#she wouldn't hang out with me towards the end saying she was depressed over her divorce whilst going on vacation

[reserwrekt]

I feel like I had everyone fooled into thinking I was normative or "okay" for two years. (2017-2019)

But the thing is, I never said I was. I had started over after my oldest brother passed away and all my friends left me to deal with it on my own.. I had told everyone around me that I'm not okay, that I have all these diagnosis, that I was sui, and I'm sick all the time.

But everyone ignored me. They ignored those parts. Then, when I started showing signs of my problems and disabilities- they'd act surprised. "I didn't think it was that bad."

My situationship at the time famously told me to drive myself to the ER when I woke up with sepsis, beginning stages of shock, kidneys shutting down. And as I was getting ready, I passed out, pissed, and vomited everywhere. It took me not being able to get back up, for him to sigh angrily and take me.

When we got to the hospital, I was stoic. The staff didn't expect anything. When they took my blood pressure, they suddenly started swarming me, ripping my clothes off my body, and scolding him for not calling an ambulance. (Blood pressure was nothing, like I think 50/40 something like that.)

But again, the fact that the ER staff assumed nothing was wrong, taking their time, and then realizing the emergency. I've always been treated like this..

During my hospitalization, the antibiotics weren't working. That made sense, because I've had a long history with antibiotics and already had antibiotic resistant sickness. But I could hear the staff talking about moving me to a critical care unit, in my valume induced haze. I could hear the nurses explaining "sepsis protocol" to each other. I would get woken up to more anticoagulant being injected through my stomach. I could hear them gossip about how they've "never not felt a pulse in a living person." As they started using my feet to check instead.

During this time, maybe I was hallucinating, I was having long vivid conversations with my passed brother. He told me I had a choice to join him now or not.

I put my deadbeat family's grieving, over my own. It was extra hard bc I was the only one supporting my brother, everyone left us alone.. I told him I couldn't. Then I started to respond to the medication (they switched antibiotics.)

For the next year, I felt I had a tie to my brother and we kept having conversations.

I was dating someone who literally wouldn't believe me or even try to empathize (same idiot.)

I asked my brother why doesn't everyone experience this? And he said it was because they couldn't handle it... and he said "look at how you've been.." and he was right. I was starting to obsess over it. I was regretting my choice to live. And then I'd have to wake up, feeling all this grief, next to a golden retriever who wouldn't even acknowledge that I woke up sobbing every day.

I had to get out of there, but because I had started over, the only people I knew, were HIS people..

I didn't trust his friend that was a little too eager to know me, but I didn't have anywhere else to go. I talked to her about some of the issues and how I don't know how to make it on the street as I'm awaiting disability.

Ofc she invited me to live with her, but I knew she had just married a guy she didn't even like. The red flags were there. And I told her on the first day, what always happens in my life. I said how no one ever helps unless they have other motives. I told her about every "family friend" who promised to get me out of foster care. I said EXACTLY how this was going to end, and I was right every step of the way.

I told her "I have severe problems that no one understands. They always say they do, but when I show signs and symptoms, they demonize me."

"No I won't. "

She did.

I told her "every family friend that said they were going to rescue me, went around and told everyone that's what they were doing, and then usually something happens like their partner gets jealous of me or something, it creates problems, and then when they break up, they leave me to die." And literally all of those things happened.

"I'm a licensed therapist." Yeah, and that's the scary part.

Meanwhile her husband was microagressing me the entire time I was there, I had JUST got my disability money (1yr living there) and then instead of being a dick to just me, he started taking it out on her. Then she immediately found ANOTHER Indigenous, two-spirit, Bipolar person to abuse. Then, that person told me that she basically told them that she was ME. She used her photos, but told them to a T MY personality.

All the people around us during that time, had no idea about me or my life. And then I got to see her go on and be successful at MY personality.

So for the past while, the things that I was interested in, that I showed her, shared with her, no longer felt like mine. So now I'm like in a very weird place with who I am.

I basically feel like for the past couple years, everyone ignored the real me, and cherry picked every detail THEY liked. So now I'm just extra messed up.

[violetsiren90]

The Light of Your Eyes

Pairing: best friend's younger brother!Changbin x f!Reader

Genre: one-shot; friends to lovers; smut and fluff; hurt/comfort

Summary: Can the gentle touch of an unexpected pair of hands on your body heal the wounds of your soul?

Sequel: Arms Around Me

Content warnings: 18+ (minors, dni), age gap romance (consenting adults); mentions of break-up and unhealthy past relationship dynamics; depression and anxiety symptoms (mild); MC has self esteem struggles, some are body-image related; the ex was low-key emotionally abusive tbh 😒; depictions of alcohol consumption (no drunkenness); depictions of food and eating (MC has a moment of negative thought patterns in regards to food consumption); gaming/watching movies; emotional breakdowns; kissing (so much kissing, guys); Fluffy fluffy FLUFF 💕; making out; interrupted shenanigans; cuddling; shirtless Binnie 👀; strong and gentle Binnie 🥺💘 ; working through FEELINGS 😅 ; breast play; nudity; oral sex (f. receiving); feedbag position; confessions and new beginnings.

Word Count: ~9300

Author's Note: Well, here it is - my first Binnie fic! I wanted to make it as sweet and sexy as he is...which, I know, is impossible, so I gave it my best shot! Hopefully, it's something worthy of his face-claim. I'm not going to make any judgements as to whether I feel it fits the bill, but rather like the man himself, tell you to be the judge of your own opinions! Jutdae!! 😂💗 But in all seriousness, if you decide to read this story, thank you! I hope it brings you something warm and fuzzy!

*The poem at the beginning is an original, and is what inspired this story!

Acknowledgements: I cannot thank @moni-logues enough for beta reading this for me, and for all her hype and humor and general human decency - this story wouldn't be what it is without her! 💖

As always, if no one has told you today, please know that you're loved, and worthy of love! 🧜‍♀️💜

    

the

Bright color of my laughter and the

Melody of the curve of my hips and the

Soft velvet of my irises

     seemed

To have taken their first breath,

Opening gently - like flowers perfuming my soul

- When bathed in the light of your eyes.

"Changbin? What are you doing here?"

     "I could ask you the same question," he says with a little smirk, whipping a dish towel over his shoulder as he shuffles back to let you in.

     Fair enough, you suppose. You are showing up without notice. Not that you ever need to give his sister any notice - as your best friend, there's a key with all the others in your purse that unlocks the door you're closing behind you. You wouldn't have even knocked had his car not been parked in the driveway.

     "Where's Nari?" you ask, glancing at the gaming console hooked up to the massive flat-screen, and a bullet blender cup half filled with something thick, pale and probably protein-packed sitting on the coffee table.

     "She went out of town for the weekend," he calls, heading back toward the dining area. "Last minute work thing." 

     Damn. 

     Your apartment is boring and barren and lonely. You wanted to hang out. You've been coming around more than usual – almost as often as when you were in grad school together. But Nari had her own life, you understood. You had your own life too.

     And then three months ago, on New Years Eve, your long-term boyfriend called it quits. It wasn't as if you were heartbroken. Not really. The relationship had been sick and slowly dying. But returning to a life lived in solitude was proving a difficult adjustment – especially navigating the new and constant stillness which left you the mental space and dexterity to run up against the shadows of wounds unhealed. And you didn't feel like growing into your EQ. You felt like distracting yourself. So you ended up at your bestie's place more often than not, these days.

     You sigh, trailing toward the kitchen. You won't stay long - if her younger brother is house sitting, he'll probably have people coming over. It's Friday night, after all, and he's twenty-four years young.

    The sound of running water, and music from a little speaker playing a catchy beat laced with fast-paced rap draws you into the warmly-lit, open kitchen. You recognize the voice on the track.

     "This new?" you ask, dropping your bag on a barstool and rounding the island to where Changbin is up to his elbows in suds at the sink. He's in a black band tee and bright blue joggers, his curly dark hair unstyled.

    He looks over his shoulder and nods.

    "What do you think? Wait, no, lemme start it over..."

     You smile to yourself as he hastily dries his hands and whips out his phone, pulling the track back to the beginning. He braces himself against the edge of the sink, gnawing on his bottom lip as he bobs his head with the lyrical punches and runs. 

     You smile to yourself, leaning your back against the counter beside him.

     "This is good, Bin," you nod earnestly. 

     "Yeah?" he asks, returning to his soapy task.

     "It really is. Hyunjin's pretty damn fast. Not as fast as you, but who is?" 

You grin, bumping your hip into his side.

     He smirks down into the bubbles.

     He's wanted to make music for as long as you've known him, and even fifteen years ago he could spit out a diss track that would have you wetting yourself laughing. He and his buddy, Hyunjin, met in high school and started messing around with music senior year. They committed to the dream, and both worked full-time gigs - Hyunjin as a tattoo artist and Changbin as a personal trainer - while promoting their artistry in their spare time. Production was a tough road to take when they were counting on nothing but raw talent and guts, but you'd always been an unflinching supporter.

     "We've got a gig next Saturday...at The Eight Ball," he remarks, looking over at you as a proud smile presses a tiny dimple into his bread cheek.

     "What?!" you squeal, turning to smack him on the arm. "Dude, that's fantastic! Oh my god, congratulations!"

     "Thanks, and ouch!" he replies, rubbing his arm with a pout that you ignore. It couldn't possibly have hurt him, not with those biceps.

     He moves to the fridge, a grin still plastered on his face.

     "You should come!" he urges over his shoulder as he appraises his sister's stash before grabbing an energy drink. "I know the boyfriend isn't into rap, but you could come with Nari..."

     You scoff softly.

     "Doesn't really matter what he likes anymore," you mumble bitterly.

     Changbin freezes as he's about to crack open the beverage in his hand.

     "Wait, what? Did you guys...is that over?"

     You purse your lips and nod. Changbin looks completely taken off guard in a way that surprises you. 

“When did that happen?”

You reach back to clutch at the cold tile of the countertop.

“Beginning of the year.”

He scratches his head.

“Nari didn’t…why didn’t you say something?”

You shrug, your eyes falling. For reasons you'd never considered, you’d rarely brought your ex around or even brought him up to Changbin. 

He turns to the still open fridge and swaps out his energy drink for two beers, opening both and sliding one across the island between you.

     "How you holding up?" he asks in earnest concern, a little furrow appearing between his dark brows.

     You want to tell him that you're fine - it's what you've been telling everyone else - but from the way he holds your gaze before letting his eyes search your face, he's looking for a real answer. You pull your lip between your teeth. You're not ready to form the words that spell the truth. He sees it.

    "Ah," he waves dismissively, "Fuck that guy. You're too good for him anyway. What an idiot."

      You blink, a little smirk tugging at your lips.

     "You don't have to hate on him just because we're-"

     "I'm hating on him because I hate him," he stares at you unflinchingly, taking another swig of his beer. "He wasn't good to you, didn't make you happy. I'm glad he's gone. Seriously, fuck him."

     You didn't expect that sort of reaction out of Changbin. Not that you expected anything, but the strong, certain tone he took in regards to your ex's unworthiness has a tiny little warmth glowing in your chest. It was like him to feel strongly and take a stand, but to have his conviction aimed at you...

     "Thanks, Bin," you murmur softly, hiding your smile behind your beer.

     The young man nods, and his lips part as if to speak when his phone buzzes in his pocket. As he answers the call - clearly, from the nature of his greeting, one of his buddies - you're reminded that you’re trespassing on his Friday night. Draining your beer, you grab your bag and slip out of the kitchen. 

     You huff a little sigh as you pull on your shoes, lingering listlessly for a moment before pulling open the door. The thought of going home has your stomach churning. You can't go back and be alone there. 

You can't.

     You have to.

     How pathetic could you possibly get? you consider sickly, staring out into the darkness. Your self-loathing and mounting anxiety battle for dominance as you will yourself to take the step over the threshold that will carry you to your car…

     Click.

     The door swishes shut, and you blink in confusion before you note a bulky arm stretched over your shoulder, hand pressed to the wooden frame below the peephole.

     You turn into Changbin's frame and he jostles backwards, hand dropping to your shoulder.

     "Where do you think you're going?" he asks, a little smirk playing on his lips.

     You try to get your bearings as you resurface from the flash flood of inner turmoil, blinking up at him in confusion.

     "Uuhh...home?" you answer, jerking a thumb back toward your intended exit.

     Changbin shakes his head. 

     "You just got here."

     "Well...I came to see Nari but she's gone, so..." 

     When the faintest shadow of hurt seems to flicker over his features at your words, you stammer to clarify.

     "Bin, it's Friday, I- you've got plans, right? I don't want to be in the way...Like, it's really nice seeing you don't get me wrong, but, it would suck to have one of your sister's random friends underfoot if you're...if..."

     You trail off. He's watching you in amusement now, arms crossed and bottom lip pulled between his teeth, one eyebrow cocked just a little higher than the other.

     "What?" you press him, now a bit self-conscious at your rambling and still on edge from the surging anxiety of moments ago. 

     Damn, what was with you? You'd been a mess lately, and now you couldn't even get your words out with Nari's kid brother?

     "I do have plans."

     Changbin's words interrupt your muddled self-assessment. You glance up at him.

     What? Okay, that's what you had been trying to...

     "I plan to kick your ass at Super Smash Bros Brawl," he quips, turning to round the couch and settle in front of it before reaching for the blue controller discarded on the coffee table.

     Huh?

     You watch him start up the game and move through selections. Shuffling toward the back of the couch, you place your hands on it. He wants to hang out? Now that he found out you'd been dumped. Nari's away, so he's falling into stride, you think to yourself. You sigh. You should be grateful. Instead, you feel like a burden.

     "Um, Bin..." you murmur, "You don't have to do this..."

     "Do what?" he asks without looking back. "I'm not going easy on you, if that's what you mean. And I'm using Kirby - nonnegotiable."

     Your heart melts a little as your eyes rest on him. He's always been a good guy, and it was like him to do this sort of thing - look out for someone when they were feeling low. Leaving simply because you don't feel worthy of his care and attention risks hurting him more than you.

     You slowly slip out of your shoes and cross into the living room, retrieving a red controller from atop the console before sinking onto the carpet beside him. You toggle through your choices before landing on Link. Changbin glances over at you disparagingly. 

     "Link sucks."

     "Kirby sucks."

     "Hey!" Changbin, practically shouts in your ear, "Don't insult my widdle cutie guy..."

     You grimace theatrically at the baby talk.

     "Don't ever do that again."

     "Or what?" Changbin challenges as he immediately unleashes a combo move that has your character hurtling toward the edge of the battle stage.

     You hop around, avoiding him and trying out different button combos. It's been forever since you played this game. Your ex had been a Halo enthusiast. You were never big on first person shooters, but you tried to get into it for his sake. He hadn't the patience to help you learn, though, and after a couple of sessions of grimaces and apologies on your behalf mumbled into his headset, he'd stopped taking you up on your offers to join him. 

     Kirby darts back and forth across the screen after you on stubby pink legs. Eventually you get the hang of things and are returning his attacks, though he easily bests you in an embarrassingly short sequence of moves.

     "Sorry, I'm no good at video games," you mumble apologetically. 

     The smug look falls from Changbin's face.

     "Why are you sorry?" he raises a brow, dropping his controller into his lap, a little smile still playing on his lips.

     You shrug. His smile fades.

     "Who says you're no good?"

     Shit.

     You shift your focus to the screen and toggle for a new character.

     "Best two out of three."

     You can feel his eyes still on you as you opt for Princess Peach.  

     Two out of three turns into five out of eight, and around eleven out of twenty, the doorbell rings. When Changbin turns in surprise toward the sound, you take the opportunity to deliver a critical blow, winning your first match of the night. He rolls his eyes as you giggle wickedly and moves to answer the door.

     You pull your phone from your pocket reflexively to check the socials you've deleted, before sighing and tossing it across the room to land on the carpet with a thud.

     "Did you just throw your phone?" 

     Glancing over your shoulder, you catch him shooting you a quizzical look over a stack of pizza boxes tall enough to feed a small army. Clambering to your feet you trail after him into the kitchen.

     "You do have plans, you liar!" you elbow him as he opens the top box and pulls out a slice, hissing as the melted cheesy overflow burns the tips of his fingers.

     "Ow!" he snaps up a napkin and cradles it under the steaming piece of pizza, shaking his other hand before holding up his fingers in front of you.

     "Blow on 'em," he whines.

     You raise your eyebrows.

     "You're joking."

     He pouts and you want to laugh. This big, grown man is seriously going to give you the lip right now?

     "That's what you get for having no patience, Bin..." you tsk disapprovingly. 

     He lets out a little disappointed sigh.

     "Meanie..." he grumbles, and lets his hand fall.

     You return your focus to the obscene amount of food now stacked on Nari's kitchen table. 

     "So, I'm sure people are going to start showing up, so I'm just gonna..."

     Changbin hands you a paper plate with two slices of pizza and heads to the fridge where he fishes out two more beers. You stare at the plate in your hand.

     "I...Bin..." 

     "What, you don't like sweet potato?" he asks with a smirk, cracking open a can and handing it to you. 

     You blink at him in confusion. 

     "Please enjoy this meal compliments of Han Jisung, who never remembers to update the address on his delivery app. Now, load up on pizza and let’s get back to it because I'm not trying to let you act like you came out on top from winning that last match on a fluke."

     You scoff at his last remark. Watching him pile several slices onto his plate, you take a bite of yours. It tastes good, and you realize as it hits your stomach that you haven't eaten all day. When was the last time you ate a real meal? When was the last time you wanted one? 

     "Noona?" 

     Changbin's voice makes you realize you had zoned out and when you blink up at him, there's just nine inches of disposable dinnerware between you. His lips are pursed and his eyes trace your features, their gaze gentle but searching. 

    "You alright?" he asks.

     There it is again; the concern. He isn't just checking in. His voice is soft and low, like his eyes. As a rule, Changbin's voice is strong, resonant - saying everything from his chest without even trying. So when he's gentle, when he pulls himself back...

    "Do you miss that guy?" he murmurs.

     "No!" 

You say it so quickly.

     Changbin nods.

     "I'm just..." Fuck, why are you suddenly so emotional? "I think I'm...adjusting. Y'know?"

     He nods again slowly. Then he reaches up and touches your face, dragging his thumb over the side of your mouth and suddenly your brain waves flat-line. Your eyes widen and your lips part, but before you can even process what's happening, he drops his hand to swipe it on a napkin.

     "Had sauce on your face," he mumbles, and you can't read his.

     His mouth is tugged up in a small smile but somehow it looks sad, and his eyes look like they're still asking a question that was never really answered. Before you can consider any further, he picks up his plate and heads back toward the living room.

     You follow him, still half in your head.

     When you sit down next to him, there's something hanging unspoken in the foot and a half of space between your bodies. Something has shifted, gone taut. 

     Shit, had you made him uncomfortable? Why had you stared at him like a weirdo when he...wait, he touched you...

     Your eyes shift over to where he sits beside you. He runs a hand through the wavy hair over his ear. Has he always been so beautiful? He turns quick enough to catch you staring and you put your plate out of your lap. The pizza smells so good but suddenly you can't touch it.

     Changbin initiates another round, which you lose in record time. Your stomach grumbles.

     "You better eat if you're going to have any hope of beating me again," he goads, finishing off his third slice to abandon the crust with the others on his plate before launching another game.

     "I had enough," you deflect, pushing your plate toward him.

     "You took two bites."

     "I need to cut back."

     "Like...go on a diet?"

     "Yeah."

     His brows furrow and his tongue slips between his lips as he sends Kirby into a hammer flip that lands as a critical hit and you wince.

"What have you eaten today?"

"What?"

     "You heard me."

     "I...I don't know. I..."

     Your stomach twists. The hunger is there, but so is the anxiety. The fear of being judged for eating too much or too quickly or...

     The game pauses. Your plate slides back toward you over the carpet.

     "The rest of that piece. Or whatever else you want. But something." 

     His voice is gentle but firm. You sigh.

     "Fine," you murmur, grabbing the half-eaten slice.

     You take a bite, and slowly raise your eyes to his as they regard you patiently.

     "Sorry," you mumble, covering your mouth, shifting away from him.

     "Why now?"

     "I make gross noises when I eat."

     "What? No you d-" 

     A hand tugs at your elbow. When you look back toward him his handsome face holds so many things, and you watch as they take turns seizing his features. Horror...pity...anger.

     "Who told you that?" he asks lowly, but it doesn't sound like a question. "Noona..."

     He squeezes your elbow.

     You feel everything you've been shoving down in your chest begin to well up. 

Fuck, no! 

Your lip trembles.

He's shifting to face you.

You shake your head and press your eyes shut.

Your hand is encompassed in a larger one.

     "It's lies, all of it," Changbin whispers with desperate conviction...and your dam breaks.

     He pulls you into his arms as you sob with abandon. One of his hands encircles your waist tugging you against his broad, warm chest, and the other slips to brush tenderly over your nape as you tuck your face into his neck. 

     "He's a liar...shhhh...he's a lying piece of shit," he insists earnestly, into your hair. "You're perfect. He's the one who needs to fix himself. You're so, so perfect." 

     Perfect? You let your heart hold the word in its palm for one precious moment before pushing it away. Your heart had never been one to accept gifts it didn't think it deserved.

     You weep and weep in his strong arms until you run out of tears, and then he holds you while you breathe. As the catharsis of your breakdown begins to settle in, you wonder at the comedown - a softer, warmer one than you've ever known – and you consider the loveliness that has broken your fall.

     Soft and firm, everywhere he touches you. And warm. So warm. Not just the heat radiating from his body like a furnace – the velvet rasp of his voice, the absolute and unfaltering nature of his embrace.

     Your hands move tentatively against his back. Soft cotton stretches and bunches between your fingers over his sturdy frame. Where your face is pressed to his collar every breath draws in a comforting combination of detergent and cologne. When you close your eyes and sigh, letting your weight sink against him further, you feel his arms tighten in response. 

     "Sorry," you croak feebly.

     "Stop," he implores you, "Every time you apologize, I want to sock that guy in the face."

     "I...I'm so stupid, I didn't even really realize..."

     "No," his arms squeeze you again, "He had your trust. It was his job to protect you."

     Protected. That's how you feel right now. Safe. So, so safe. Letting him hold you and reassure you felt good...it felt right. But yet again, the voice in your mind that liked to remind you how much of a burden you always were speaks up in a sickly whisper.

     You pull yourself slowly from his arms and off his lap. Drawing yourself up to stand, you wipe your hot cheeks, puffy red eyes finding his like the needle of a compass. Unprepared for what awaits you in his gaze, your knees nearly give out beneath you.

     Changbin is looking up from where he kneels before you, the yearning in his eyes unchecked as they burn with  an unasked question and an unspoken promise.

     "I should go," you whisper, barely able to form the words.

     "Don't," he says, standing.

     "If I stay I'll just wreck your night," you mumble.

     "You could never," he insists, lips tugging into a little smile. His eyes are still pleading.

     "Changbin..." you breathe, suddenly drowning again in the fizzy serotonin his words ignite in your chest. "You don't want..."

     "You let me be the judge of what I want."

     His hands find your arms and he pulls you in. There are centimeters between you. His eyes rest on your lips. Your heart hammers in your ears as your brain begins to malfunction the way it had when he touched your face...

     "D-do I have something on my-"

     Mouth? His.

    The whole of your being floods with something beautiful and ineffable at the touch of his lips and no voice, no doubt, no force in the world could be stronger than the one that pulls you into him. Your arms fly up to wrap around his neck and tug yourself impossibly closer. His hands drop to your waist, pressing desperately in kind, and your bodies mold together. You flush with heat, sparks igniting in your belly and skittering through your veins as his lips move against yours. He stumbles back, pulling you with him as his knees buckle at the edge of the couch, and your body spills over his lap.

Your fingers card into his hair.

His hands drop to the back of your hips.

Your tongue brushes his bottom lip.

He moans.

     At the gorgeous, deep sound from his chest, you pull back, fighting the smile that pulls at the corners of your mouth. What the fuck is happening right now? You don't get much time to consider as his head falls against the backrest and his eyes flutter open.

     "Sorry," he grins bashfully. The tips of his ears burn pink.

     "Now who's apologizing for no reason?" you tease, pressing your hands to his chest.

     He smiles so sweetly in return you feel you might physically melt. And then the smile fades and the lids of his eyes grow heavy and he leans up to claim your mouth.

     His lips taste the same as a moment ago, but their press is slower, hungrier. His hands are powerful and assertive as they hook under your thighs and pull your hips flush against his own in a single tug. You gasp softly against his lips and you feel his smirk. You feel his smirk and something else - something beginning to press up into your ass through your jeans.

     Licking into his mouth, you push down, grinding your hips over his in a slow, deliberate undulation. The groan that falls from his lips unlocks something inside of you that needs to know every sound he makes and how to elicit them. Your mouth drops to his neck.

     Suddenly, he's gripping your waist and pivoting to lay you on the cushions, slotting himself between your legs. You're still dizzy from the sudden rush of movement, when your legs curl around his hips and over his ass and–

     A loud buzzing from the coffee table has you mourning the press of Changbin's lips to your throat as he glances at the caller ID. 

     "Shit!" he scrambles to sit up, hand still gripping your thigh above your knee when he presses the phone to his ear.

     "Hey," he runs a hand through his hair. "What? Nothing. No, I didn't forget. I will, I will."

     You recognize his tone of voice. There could only be one person on the other end of the line. You sit up, your head beginning to clear as the reality of the situation washes over you.

     "Okay, yeah. Yeah, yeah. Be safe. Love you." 

Changbin presses the end-call button and tosses the phone onto the cushion beside him. He leans back against the couch and claps his hand against your leg with a sigh.

     "She really knows how to wreck a moment for me."

     You crack a wry smile.

     "I mean, it's probably for the best that we don't desecrate your sister's couch."

     His eyes widen as horror, disgust, and amusement wage war across his features. You burst into a fit of giggles. He feigns a gag. You laugh so hard that you snort.

     "S-sorry," you clap your hand over your mouth, still tittering while your ears heat in embarrassment.

     Changbin's face softens again. He reaches for your hand and pulls it from your face, threading his fingers through yours.

     "Cut it out."

     "What? I can't be embarrassed about snorting like a pig?"

     "No. It's cute," he smirks.

     "It is not!"

     "Mhm. Everything you do is cute."

     He glances over at you, a lopsided smirk on his perfect lips, his eyes sparkling. He means it.

     You fluster, gaze dropping to your enjoined hands, and concentrate on tracing little patterns on the back of his with your thumb. He sighs.

     "Wanna watch a movie?"

     The request takes you by surprise and your heart squeezes. If it was any other guy, the night would have been over. For the fourth time tonight, you had been about to head for the door, and for the fourth time, Changbin makes you feel wanted. So you stay.

     You grab a big, fluffy blanket from the basket in Nari's room, and when you return, Changbin has the lights dimmed and Your Name ready to go on the TV. You smile as you settle in beside him, tossing half the blanket over his widespread legs.

     "We don't have to watch this just because it's my favorite, you know," you insist, but he shakes his head.

     "Taki's ma' boy," he smirks, shooting you a glance as he presses play on the remote.

     You're not quite sure what it means, but you feel your heart skip a beat just the same.

You love this movie. You love that you've seen it enough times that you can talk through it. You love that Changbin is more than willing to talk over the film himself. You're not certain when it happened, but by halfway through the movie his arm is stretched out behind your shoulders and your head rests on his bicep.

     "Do you remember seeing this together in the theater?" he asks suddenly, tilting his head toward yours.

     You grin.

     "You cried and Nari gave you shit about it," you recall.

     "You bailed me out. Told her all the sniffling was you. Never even teased me about it either."

     Changbin smiles down at you, his eyes sentimental.

     Butterflies flutter their delicate wings in your ribcage. How does he make you feel this way?

Your eyes dip to his lips for a moment. Sighing, you nuzzle into his shoulder, hiding your face as much as seeking his warmth. His arm slips off the back of the couch to curl around your shoulders and pull you into his side. The movie plays on.

     When the credits roll, Changbin stretches and yawns, and watching him it dawns on you that, working at a fitness center, he's an especially early riser.

     "We should call it a night," you offer, standing and stretching yourself, but you're tugged back down into Changbin's lap, yelping as you topple onto him.

     His arms encircle your hips as he regards you with a sleepy grin.

     "What, do I live here now?" you tease.

     "Stay the night," he urges, tightening his arms around you. "You really want to drive back now?"

     You chew your lip, eyes tracing over his face. This is all more than a bit unreal, and you haven't given yourself even one second to process what's happening, lest you utterly panic. All you know right now is that your little ship had been sinking and he had hauled you into a lifeboat. Everything outside of him seems like a raging sea.

     You nod.

     "Okay," you whisper, combing his hair away from his forehead. “I’ll stay.” 

     His eyes dip shut at your touch and the butterflies flutter gently once more.

     A few minutes later, you take Nari's room and slip into a pair of her cotton shorts, which do basically nothing to contain your ass, and tug on a plain white tee that stretches snugly over your torso. How a big guy like Changbin could have emerged from the same genetic pool as his teeny tiny sister was beyond you. As you glance in the mirror, your heart sinks. You don't like how the tight fit is pressing you out everywhere you're most self-conscious. But, they are just pajamas, and they're all you have at your disposal.

     As you're about to head into the master bathroom to finish your nightly routine, you remember that the toothbrush and toiletries you keep on hand at Nari's are in the little half-bath attached to the guest room. You groan, glancing at yourself again in the mirror, and pull a blanket around yourself before crossing the hall.

     Hoping Changbin hasn’t yet fallen asleep, you knock hesitantly on the door. You hear the bed creak before the door opens to reveal a head of mussed hair and hands scrubbing over bleary eyes. But it's not what you notice. Your apology for rousing him dies on your lips as your eyes glue themselves to his bare chest. Blinking dumbly, your eyes climb from his soft stomach subtly rippling with the presence of strong abdominals up to a pair of impressive pecs with wide-set, dusky nipples. His flannel pajama pants settle at his hips, accentuating how his body broadens as it rises from his waist to his full chest and wide shoulders flanked by bulging biceps. Thick. He's so fucking thick you could bi-

     "...Noona?" he rumbles, his voice husky from sleep. "What's wrong?"

     "Nothing...sorry..." you rush out, ripping your gaze up to his. "My toothbrush is in your room – I mean! in your bathroom. That's where I usually stay, so...but I didn't think you'd be asleep. Sorry, I can just..." 

     He rubs over one of his eyes with his palm as he steps aside.

     "You can grab it."

     Right. You shuffle in awkwardly, trying not to step on the blanket dragging around your feet. As you cross the dark room, you try not to dwell on the rumpled sheets of the bed that speak of his body having lain between them, or the soft smell of his cologne hanging in the air. You quickly retrieve the little toiletry bag and, as you move to squeeze past Changbin at the door, he eyes the fluffy shroud you're clutching to your chest.

     He raises a sleepy eyebrow.

     "I'm sure Nari has pants you could..."

     "I'm wearing pants!" you bluster, "They just...don't fit."

      You move out of the doorway to make your way back to your room, but a hand cups the side of your face and turns it as soft lips meet your forehead. 

     "Good night, noona," he murmurs with a little smile before retreating back into his room.

     You stand in the hall, staring at his door, the butterflies absolutely aflurry.

     Despite your best efforts, you can't sleep. Your mind is full of the last five hours. Full of Changbin.

     He had kissed you. You had kissed him back. And it had felt...

     You roll from your side to your back, sighing up at the dark ceiling. You chew on your lip as you remember breaking down and his arms around you. You would usually feel regretful and ashamed after baring yourself like that to someone. You despised moments of weakness. But you couldn't bring yourself to hate the moments in his arms. You didn't regret them. In fact, you wanted him to hold you again. You wanted to feel vulnerable in his hands, and you wanted him to keep you safe.

     You feel heat rush up from your neck as you recognize these feelings.

     You must be absolutely shameless, you conclude in wonder. You should be freaking out right now - this was Changbin, for Christ's sake – Nari's brother! You should be wondering what happens next, and what all of it means...but even so you can’t bring yourself to care. All your mind can focus on is how his arms felt like waking up after a nightmare to song birds and soft sunlight.

     After an hour or so of tossing and turning, the salty pizza from dinner has you parched and slipping out to the kitchen for a drink. You pull a glass from the cupboard and fill it at the fridge, gulping down the contents to refill it again. Suddenly, you feel two strong arms snake around your waist and you start, sloshing your water and smacking the back of your head into the man holding you. You hastily set your glass down and turn in his arms as he lets out a groan, one of his hands releasing you as it flies up to cup the front of his face in pain.

     "Bin, oh my god! Are you okay? You scared me!" you chide with a chuckle as you reach up to push his hand away and brush the tips of your fingers across his nose. 

    He pouts down at you and you smile.

     "Did I wake you?"

     He huffs.

     "Yeah. To get your toothbrush. Then I couldn't go back to sleep."

     "Sorry," you groan, still stroking over where you had struck his face. "Does it hurt?" 

     He nods.

     "Kiss it better," he mumbles cutely.

     You roll your eyes, but lift your lips to comply when suddenly he interrupts the motion with the soft press of his mouth to yours. It's slow and sweet, and you're struck all over again with how quickly you melt at his touch - a sensation you cannot imagine ever growing accustomed to, but to which you are fairly certain you are in danger of growing entirely addicted.

     "Bin..." you whisper against his lips, "Bin, what are we-"

     "Liar," he murmurs, pulling back.

     Your mouth parts in confusion as you stare up at him, still drunk on his lips.

     "You said the clothes didn't fit. You should wear this all the time," he smirks as he squeezes low on your waist.

     Your cheeks heat as you remember what you're wearing, but you don't have long to be anxious over it as he presses his lips to your nose...the corner of your mouth...your jaw. You tremble as you lean into him, fingers splaying over his warm, bare chest.

     "Let me show you," he whispers against your skin.

     "Sh-show me...what...?"

     He draws back, pressing his forehead to yours.

     "How perfect you are."

     You still, eyes flicking up to his. They're dark and tender and pleading. You let out a little shuddering breath.

     "I...you don't have t-"

     His arms hold you closer, gentle but insistent.

     "Let me," he whispers, the tip of his handsome nose brushing over the dip of your cupid's bow. "Please. I want to."

     You swallow, eyes dropping to his lips. You want it too, you find. You want his hands and lips and eyes all over you, bringing warmth everywhere they meet your aching body. You nod and take his lips again with yours. 

     "Yeah?" he murmurs against them.

     "Yeah," you breathe, slipping a hand up the back of his neck and into his hair.

     He groans in response, deepening the kiss as he licks at your parted lips and when your tongues brush, sparks burst in your belly. You feel it all slipping, the masks, the walls - every barrier you hold up to shield yourself from not being enough. His arms are strong and his lips are tender and you can't focus on anything but the perfection of being so utterly held.

     His mouth moves to caress your jaw, under your ear, down the column of your neck, and suddenly you feel the edge of the counter pressing into the small of your back. His hands grip your waist and he hitches you onto the tiled surface with ease. It's cold against your bare legs, but you don't have more than a second to register the discomfort as Changbin nudges his way between your knees. He runs his hands over your thighs as his eyes trail from your panting lips to your lightly heaving chest.

     You feel your nipples pebble under his gaze and a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, his eyes glinting with mischief as he runs a hand up your side, over your shirt, to rest under the swell of your breast. He flicks a thumb over the hardened bud and you whimper and jump. He laughs softly, his smirk spreading into a full smile as he squeezes your breast and brings his eyes to yours.

     "Your pretty body likes me, noona," he puffs proudly, massaging you deftly through the soft cotton of the tee.

     You don't have a witty retort. Your body likes him so much that it frightens you. And with the deep affection you already feel, have long felt, for him...

     You reach to gently tangle your hand again in his coarse, dark curls. He glances up, a sweet little smirk tugging at his pretty lips again. 

     "Bin..." you sigh.

     "Hmm?" he hums as he slips his hands to your bottom and tugs you forward so that you're flush against him.

     You dip your head and your lips ghost his.

     "Nothing," you whisper, and you kiss him again. Again and again.

     His hands slide from your ass to slip beneath your shirt at your lower waist and he kneads the soft flesh above your hips.

     "So soft. Feels so good," he groans into your mouth.

     You moan as the walls of your pussy contract. You're beginning to ache, beginning to drip – and his words seem to affect you as intensely as his touch.

     He moves his lips to latch onto the soft skin of your neck and suck, his hands bunching your shirt up and up until his mouth pops free from your skin and he's pulling the thin garment over your head and tossing it aside. The cool air pricks your skin and you become keenly aware, for the briefest moment, that you are sitting on your best friend's kitchen counter, stripped down to her sleep shorts, with her brother between your thighs. As your brain races to decide whether to find that incredibly arousing or absolutely panic-inducing, Changbin's cherry lips rewire your neurological pathways in favor of the former when they close around your right nipple. Your head lolls back, colliding with the cabinet door and it clatters. 

     "Shit..." you hiss softly, threading your hands into his hair and gripping it by the roots.

     Your eyes slip shut and you focus on the sensation of his warm tongue slipping over the peaks of your breasts, his strong, smooth palms cupping and caressing. And then you feel his little puffs of breath and the nudge of his nose at the valley of your chest as he groans and smushes your tits up to meet his face. 

     "I fucking live here now," he mumbles into the globe of your breast, and despite the heat of the moment, you softly laugh. You laugh and you feel his smile pressed to your skin.

     Then suddenly he's pulling you into his arms in a bridal carry. You know he's strong, as you wrap your arms around his neck, but can't push away a pang of self-consciousness as he bears your weight. 

     "Bin, I'm so heavy..."

     "You're not."

     "I don't want you to..."

     "Stop it," comes his voice in a soft, deep command as he halts in his tracks to kiss you.

     He kisses you and kisses you until you believe that he could carry you until the end of time, and then he takes you into the guest bedroom and sits you gently on the bed. The bed with the mussed sheets that smell like him. The sheets that he's leaning you into as you push yourself to the middle of the bed while he hovers over the top of your body, his lips never leaving yours.

     As he sinks down over you, the weight of his body pressing you into the mattress has warmth licking through your veins. You move your hands to caress over his broad back, feeling his muscles ripple beneath your fingers as he shifts to prop himself up on his elbow. You use the free space to trace your hand down his chest and abdomen until you reach the waistband of his pants. If he'd just push himself a few inches up you could...

     He pulls away, just barely breathless, and his eyes find yours. He reaches down with his right hand to pull yours gently from between your bodies and to his lips, before threading his fingers through yours and pressing your joined hands into the sheets beside your head.

     "I want to eat you out."

     He says it so simply, so confidently, and you can feel more arousal gush to join what's already begun to paint your inner thighs. 

     "Fuck..." you breathe, your fingers trembling in his grasp.

     "Can I?" he asks, kissing your lips softly again.

     For a moment you're afraid of what saying yes will mean, of the intimacy of it all, of the possibility that you won't measure up, someway, somehow, or maybe...that you will - and what in the world you would do with that level of acceptance...

     You let out a shaky sigh, as you hold his gaze. It arrests you and washes over you. You remember his eyes as he knelt on the living room floor, and all they pleaded with you to disbelieve, to unlearn. 

     Yes. Yes...If it's him, you want it, whatever it means.

     You surge forward, pressing your lips to his, your hands weaving through his hair, pulling him in. He lets out a tiny whimper as you devour him, kissing him with determined abandon until you have to come up for air.

     "Yes, Bin, yes," you shudder into his mouth as he pants over you. “Yes I want you to.”

In answer, he presses one last tender kiss to your lips before moving to kiss down your body. He moves slowly, but with purpose, pressing an adoring mouth to every part of you that’s bared. He kisses your ear, your neck, your collarbones…he moves over your shoulders and down your right arm to the tip of each finger. He kisses your breasts and down your stomach. He kisses your belly button, and over your hips and down your left thigh. He kisses the inside of your knee, and bends your leg to kiss over your calf and down to your ankle. 

You can barely watch him, as he brushes his lips over you, but he flicks his eyes up to yours so often you don’t dare look away. There is something flickering in his gaze, something like a challenge - daring you to contradict, to doubt what he seeks to impress upon you - and you begin to feel something strange and new. Something you’d never found at the touch of a lover, blooming in your chest and unfurling like a proud little flower under the sun: the strong, heady beauty of esteeming yourself worthy of his desire. It terrifies you a bit, and the ugly voice that has heckled you so often tries to cast doubt, but Changbin’s lips and hands are too persistent and assured for the harbinger in your mind to linger long. And the tidal wave of lovely feelings crashing over you threatens to destroy the shabby prison your heart has lingered in for so long.

Changbin lays his head on your thigh as he brings his hand off the other to cup your pussy over the softness of your shorts. His groan is nearly as loud as yours when he rubs over your mound, and it makes you impossibly wetter. He’s so unabashed and liberal with reacting to what he enjoys, and he is clearly enjoying you as much as he ever has anything.

He moves to bring his face to your clothed cunt, hovering over you for a nanosecond to catch your eyes as he mouths down over you. Your jaw drops open, and when his teeth scrape dully over your clit, your hips jerk and you fist the sheets. Changbin pulls back with a smirk, and sits back on his knees between your legs. He pulls one of your legs up to lean against his shoulder as his hands instinctively knead over the muscles of your calf and thigh.

“Do you trust me?” he asks, with a little smile.

You nod with one of your own.

“I’m gonna lift you, okay? You can hold onto my legs, but I’ll have you, so don’t worry.”

You bite your lip and nod, suddenly a little shy. Look at him. Where did he get all this confidence?

He drops your leg briefly to tug off your shorts and panties, cursing at how wet you are, and gently slipping two fingers to brush between your glistening lips and over your clit. You gasp at the sensation - his fingers deft, his touch soft but firm where you ache for him. And then, suddenly, he is sliding your legs back up to rest against his chest and shoulders. His hands slip down to your hips and he effortlessly tugs your ass over the incline of his thighs and flush with his abdomen. Your heart starts to thrum in your chest. His body is warm and sturdy against the soft plush of your ass. Heat floods your cheeks when you sense a slickness against him where your arousal has begun to smear against his stomach. He, however, is far less bashful. Widening the gap between your thighs, he dips his head down, inhaling deeply.

"Fuck…" he murmurs, squeezing your legs where he holds them. 

When he raises his eyes to yours again, they’re unlike you’ve ever seen. They’re dark and hungry and hooded in a way that nearly intimidates you. His expression is full of heat, and manly in its sudden gravity. He watches you as he slips his thumbs under your waist and, slowly with strong hands, pulls your hips up beneath his chin. Your legs bend at the knees and drape around the crown of his head. Your spine curves where your upper back is flush with his thighs, your arm on either side of his kneeling form, and as he embraces you tightly around the hips and waist, you feel nearly every ounce of your weight suspended in his hold. The blood rushes to your head where it lays against the mattress, your neck curving just shy of his knees, offering a clear view of his gorgeous face as he wastes no time in pressing his open mouth to your labia. 

Your core muscles flex in response, hips pressing higher against him as you feel ripples of exquisite pleasure trickle through your body from above. The smooth muscle of his tongue slips past your entrance and begins fucking into you. Your head swims, the slightest dizzying restriction of oxygen dampening your ability to focus on anything but the bliss of his hot, wet mouth. Being tasted has never felt this intense. You whimper, your hands reaching around his body to find purchase on his muscular ass. You feel the press of his throbbing erection into your back as his tongue fucks unhurriedly into you. He’s rock hard, and all for you. From the sight of your naked body, the feel of you in his hands, the taste of you on his tongue. From the sounds pouring off of your lips as he worships your sex. 

Your legs begin to shake. You’re so totally in his hands. He holds you, lavishes you, consumes you. Nothing stands between you and ecstasy, and you can feel your climax fast approaching as pleasure ebbs and flows like a crashing tide on the rhythm of his firm, languid strokes.

"Ch-Changbin! Nhhh!" you mewl, you voice throaty and muffled from your position. 

He growls against you and you nearly cum then. One of his hands drops to squeeze the soft mound of your right breast. Your cheeks burn, sweat beginning to bead on your forehead and neck. You can feel your pussy throbbing - hot and sticky and swollen with stimulation - as he devours it like the flesh of ripened fruit. His lips encircle your clit and suckle as the tip of his tongue flicks over the erect peak of your bud.

And then it all goes white. You lose all sense but feeling as you rock your hips up to meet him, the tension in your abdominals adding sinfully to the fluttering pulsating of your pussy. There’s nothing but you and him and his arms around you and his mouth against the most intimate parts of you as your orgasm washes over you in electrifying slow-motion, pulling you under a tidal wave of bliss for what seems like an eternity. Your lips part in a silent scream of his name, your eyes pressed shut, as he works you through the longest and most intense climax your body has ever experienced.

You feel him place one last sweet, gentle kiss to your cunt before moving the hand on your breast to one of your thighs as he guides you back down onto the bed. You’re panting and boneless as you watch him draw an arm over his cum-slicked chin and cheeks. For a moment he simply looks down at you, a victorious air about him as his eyes trace your sated features and his gorgeous chest heaves with labored breath, then he crawls forward on the bed, stretching himself out on his side next to you, his body flush with your own. He slips his hand over the soft skin of your belly and rubs it soothingly as he watches you with a little grin.

“You good?” he asks in a raspy murmur.

You reach for his face, bringing it to yours as you kiss him with what wherewithal you have. You pull away, still breathless.

“Am I good? Seo Changbin, I think I could fly.”

His answering smile is so filled with joy and pride and affection that you think you truly may have sprouted wings. You roll to your side to press yourself against him, your hand tugging at the waistband of his pajamas, but he takes your hand again in his.

“Not tonight.”

“Why?”

“Tonight is yours.”

“Bin…”

“I’m yours.”

You blink up at him, his head resting on his hand, his eyes sparkling and soft.

“If you’ll have me,” he raises your hand to his lips to kiss your knuckles. “You don’t have to answer right now. I know you’re going through a lot, and this is all…new.” 

He smiles again, glancing down as his features take on a boyish shyness.

  “But I care for you. And, however things work out,” his eyes lock with yours again, “I’ll always protect you.” 

Your heart stands still. There are things that are too deeply lovely for words to be wasted on them. Any words but three - three that are already deeply true, but which have begun to mean something beautiful and different tonight, burying themselves like a little seed in your heart that needs time to grow. So for now you let yourself cry tears that fall like raindrops in the sunlight, and drift to sleep with the steady beat of Changbin’s heart.

“Ay!” Nari’s voice cuts through the din of chatter as her hand shoots out to narrowly prevent a fellow patron from snagging the chair beside her. “Sorry, seats are taken.”

She takes a sip of her beer and stretches her short legs as far as they will reach across the two empty chairs beside her.

“The guys are gonna have to hustle if they’re gonna sit with us,” she says reproachfully, dark brows rising as her eyes scan the venue for the bodies that belong in the seats you have been desperately attempting to reserve for the last hour.

The Eight Ball is crowded to bursting, and you scan the stage for signs of the evening’s openers. Checking your phone, you find that it’s nearly eight. You also find a text that brings a smirk to your lips.

“What?”

You glance up at Nari, who’s staring at you suspiciously.

“Nothing…” you mumble, flipping your phone back over onto the table. You sip your cocktail through a straw.

“Are you texting him?”

You nearly choke on your drink.

“What? Who?”

“You know who,” Nari mocks, narrowing her eyes at you. “The jerkwad.”

“Oh my god, Nari, no!” you sigh, as your phone buzzes again. 

She glances at it.

“Then what was with the look? Who are you…”

“Are these for us?” a voice belonging to a smiling, dimpled young man in a black hoodie with a matching beanie pulled over his head saves you from further explanation.

“Jesus, Chris, finally,” Nari admonishes as he takes the seat next to you, pulling her legs off the remaining chairs to free them up for the other two men that follow behind him. 

The freckled blond pulls Nari into a side hug which she returns, booping his nose before leaning across him to peer menacingly at his friend.

“Yo, Jisung,” she barks, “If you’re gonna order several hundred pizzas, how about taking some with you next time? My fridge is still stuffed.”

The young man blinks wide, surprised eyes at her before his brain catches up with her scolding.

“Sorry, but it wasn’t my fault!” he insists poutingly. “I ordered them because Changbin asked me to and then he canceled gaming weekend ‘cause he had a girl over.” he grumbles, causing the other two to snicker.

“Nice,” Chris giggles.

This time you do choke.

Your eyes fly to your best friend, watching the barrage of questions bubbling up on her face when a voice cuts through the din, silencing the crowd and unknowingly saving himself for the time being.

“Good evening, Eight Ballers!” Changbin rasps into his mic as Hyunjin waves, as ridiculously beautiful as ever, beside him.

You look at Changbin’s eyes.

They’re bright and confident and determined. You smile and cheer when he finishes introductions. As the band hits the first few notes of the opening number, his gaze finds yours, and it’s full of so many things.

His eyes sparkle with seven days worth of secrets – of waking up to your eyes and arms, of a weekend of nothing but bare bodies and hearts, of weeknight phone calls until the wee hours of the morning…of a new way of caring for each other that you’ll eventually tell the others, but that is just yours for now.

As you look at him, so full of adoration, you hope you can offer him even a fraction of the new world he’s only just begun to share with you – and the reflection you see a little more beautifully each day in the light of his eyes.

-Fin-

[chaostroberry1]

Headcanons If they were on tiktok/social media PART.1

Adam

- posts family vlogs

- or atleast mini videos about his family

- maybe also posts vids about fun things that happened between him and eve.

- I see him as the type to have like 0 haters, anyone who hates on him will get dragged and bashed 💀

- one of the best out of everyone here

- his kids would also have their own accounts, or even a shared account. posting abt the pranks on each other they pulled, or celebrations, and over all just fine.

Adamas

- bro I know he'd be the type to post rant videos, tagging Poseidon and sometimes all his brothers cus he wanna bitch abt stuff.

- but yeah most of it would be towards poseidon

- bro his face whenever poseidon just replies to his videos with the most no-fucks-given comment is so funny

- he'd also be the type to reply to all offensive (or what he thinks is offensive but actually isn't) comments in the comments section

- believe me, bro would stare straight at the camera with so much hate, but in a funny way, before screaming

- last thing the video ends with is his scream that's cut out halfway.

- his content? Reaction videos.

- maybe also pranking videos, like

"pranking my baby brother"

- Poseidon is the baby brother he refers to btw🙂

- the pranks always fail and he just uses the excuse that it wasn't finished yet.

- not too bad ig

Aphrodite

- she probably posts those eerily addicting videos of herself on vacations or out shopping

- incredibly chill

- her pretty privilege has both genders on the ground for her to step on

- probably also reacts to comments too. Just imagine bro.

"please step on me", or, "mommy 🛐🛐"

- she doesn't really mind it, she likes the attention

- whenever there's a hater, she calls them out so politely but also destroying the person's ego with the most humble but ego breaking comment

- but she only rathers to post pictures of herself and all, instead of videos.

Apollo

- Bro has so many fans

- he'd post tease videos of his body to just rile people up and have them begging for more

- zesty af

- most men in his comments section would literally be like "don't let me get behind bro"

- yk what he responds with?

"come behind me"

- also posts about his shopping trips, and maybe parts of his body that has jewelry, like his legs for example.

- he'd Deffo make thirst traps I just know it.

- I also feel like he'd post sexy photos of himself, but act oblivious about it.

- like just imagine scrolling and then seeing some hot looking baddie of a guy in a mouthwatering outfit, with his bear ass out. And all he'd say is-

"does the color suit me?"

- always incredibly teasing when his fans ask him to oil up

⚠️Slight nsfw⚠️

-so yeah he oils up. ON only fans

- he would be famous online for his looks

- and if looks are what we speak of here, he would definitely have an only fans account

- he wouldn't go as far as being a 🌽 star though, he thinks it isn't very like him.

- but he will please his fans, and people pay lots just to get him to do more. But sometimes leaves them hanging with a strip tease or smth. Only the worthy are allowed to lay their eyes on his perfect body.

Ares

- leave the poor man alone

- many people tag him in thirst traps (MOSTLY APOLLO'S THIRST TRAPS)

- he just stares wide eyed in the camera, mouth agape in horror when APOLLO'S literally thrusting into his phone

- pukes afterwards

- apollo makes things worse by tagging him in his own posts, just to mess with him

- I feel like he'd post vids of ranting about people that are mistreating animals

Beelzebub

- he only got into social media cus of his friends

- he's not always online, but he has a big fan base consisting of girls cus he's a hot emo boy

- posts vids of his life, like maybe rants, or photos of his food here and there

- he doesn't always show his face, but he never dissapoints when he does.

-maybe posts lip sync vids too, the songs would be basic teenage depressed shi ykyk

- he wouldn't get hate though, cus like I said, his face was too gorgeous and cute to get mad at.

Buddha

- posts vids of his snacks

- kinda like apollo when it comes to teasing and riling people up with his body. But he doesn't go as far as only fans, or thirst traps

- I think maybe he'd just lift his shirt a little, show his abs a few times, or his muscles. And then looking at the camera with a teasful look and calling the watcher out

"you staring at these things? Ya like that~?"

(I nearly cried writing that)

- it sounds cringe, but many people are into it. I mean, c'mon, it's Buddha.

- also likes to post vids of him trying out the food from different fast food places, and just making people drool at his food, and face.

- probs also likes to do collabs with zerofuko, like going to the arcade and all. Incredibly cute bonding.

[1500-years-of-evil-spirits]

Junpei 999, Tenmyouji VLR, and Junpei ZTD for tarot!! They might all be the same but I’m curious :)

Okay, first of all I'm so sorry it took me this long to get a reply out. I have been very sick, had multiple family emergencies, technical difficulties, and basically everything blew up all at once.

999 Junpei is 1 - The Magician. This card highlights intellect, influence, and resourcefulness. It also denotes psychic abilities.

Junpei is the de facto leader, he often gets final say, and many of his choices impact the timeline (influence).

His whole gambit to get Ace to admit to his crimes is the best example of both his resourcefulness and intellect I can think of. Junpei knew he could always just put Ace on blast, but if he did that then it would not only be his word against Ace's, but Ace would have plausible deniability. Instead he decided to get Ace to incriminate himself by using what he suspected about him with a few clever white lies to get him to slip up (Junpei would make a great Ace Attorney character). He knew he had to play it smart if he wanted the truth, but also that he had to be a little secretive about it too. If Ace knew what Junpei was trying to do it wouldn't have worked. It was a lot more thought out and intentional in comparison to Sigma just openly calling out Dio in VLR.

The Magician reversed signifies manipulation, greed, trickery and deceit, and unused abilities.

Tenmyouji gives me reversed Magician vibes, particularly with how many times he backstabs Sigma and the fact that he hasn't been (intentionally) accessing the Morphogenic Field since saving Akane. However, I think 12 - The Hanged Man fits his themes in VLR more.

The Hanged Man is a symbol of feeling trapped (literally in the nonary game), uncertainty, self-limiting beliefs, a lack of direction, and a need for release and letting go.

I noticed Tenmyouji doesn't really say much about himself, but when he does it's typically in a rather self-deprecating way. Whether it's the depression from everything that's happened to him (and the world) over the years, him being too old for this shit, or just him being vague since he doesn't trust Sigma it's very Hanged Man behavior. He also doesn't seem to have much of a goal outside of getting Quark out and doesn't seem to mind the idea of dying to do it. This could indicate a lacking sense of purpose. He clung to the memory of Akane and who she was for so long that when he finally found her and saw her for the woman she had become he no longer recognized her as one and the same.

ZTD Junpei is a trip because he is such an Uno reverse card to his 999 self. 999 Junpei was very no man left behind, but ZTD Junpei is just like screw you guys I'm going home *kills Q & D teams*.

6 - The Lovers in reverse for ZTD Junpei. A lot of his contrary personality and bad attitude stem from his feelings towards Akane. He loves her dearly, but he's also clearly pissed at her too if the cake comment is anything to go by.

The Lovers in reverse signals conflict, disharmony, trust issues, and imbalance. Junpei and Akane are constantly at opposite ends of issues making Carlos be the mediator/deciding vote.

Tl;Dr:

999 Junpei - The Magician (upright)

Tenmyouji - The Hanged Man (upright), The Magician (reversed)

ZTD Junpei - The Lovers (reversed)

[raechelanne2020-blog]

I just want you all to know that my cat died a couple of months ago, and that I am still trying to process it by slowly grieving. It is the worst pain imaginable. Plus to top it off, my ex boyfriend and I ended things a while ago, too, and I'm trying to be his friend, but it's been really hard for me to, even though I work with him, and so we're trying to be friendly with and toward each other, but it's just hard, though, because I don't really want anything to do with him, since he's the one who hurt me. No, I didn't cheat, and no, he didn't cheat. We're not cheaters. We just weren't happy. Too many skeletons in the closet, and we weren't friends with each other enough before we got together, so we were having fun (if you know what I mean,) and hanging out and working together and flirting with each other without really going out on dates, or getting to know each other, outside of the texting world. Don't get me wrong, I really don't like talking on the phone, it bothers me. I don't like people listening to my phone calls, even if they are appropriate, but I just don't like people butting in, or putting their noses where they don't belong, so I would just rather not, and it's not anything personal, but I just can't have anything to do with him, especially when he won't spend any time with me. It's frustrating as all get out, because trust me, I tried to make it work. I really did. But when you're in a relationship with someone, you have to put in just as much time and effort as the other person. They can't be giving their all only to find that the other person isn't giving as much as they can give. Now, don't get me wrong, yes, I know that he's been depressed because he lost his dad a couple of years ago, and now he's lost me, but if that person is still alive, and they're still in your life, wouldn't you try to at least make it work out if you really loved that person? You see, he loves my family, but he hasn't sent a single text to me after we broke up, so that really says a lot about his personality, doesn't it? And, yes. I know. They say that you know who your soulmate is, but I don't know. I am almost thirty, and I still don't know, so maybe I don't even have one? I have been with a lot of guys, but none of them get me like that. But back to my cat. She was my best friend. My baby girl. My daughter. And, now she's gone. I had put her through a surgery to get a cancer growth off from her butt, and she died at least two or three times while she was there, at the surgery office. So I told the surgeon that it was time for him to let her go, and I gave the phone to my dad, and started sobbing. Who was I to end the fate of my baby girl? I had no option, though. Her life was over. And, frankly, so is mine. With all of this stuff going on in the world, I keep on thinking that it all is going to be over, but I need my baby girl for comfort. And, she's never going to come back, so this is just another chapter in my life, one that I will have to get used to, especially when things aren't going to change. I will always be numb with the feeling that my life is never going to be the same, but I will be okay, and that's all that matters.

[bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky]

Stay With Me: Part 1 | Bucky Barnes x Reader

this is the first fic I’ve ever written so bear with me 🙃

Warnings: Mentions of violence, anxiety/PTSD/depression, blood, little bit of cursing

Word Count: 4.3k

Part 2 💕

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"I- I just don't know what I'm supposed to do…" you almost shouted into your phone. You'd called your best friend Sharon to have her talk you out of your anxious state of mind, but discussing your situation only seemed to make things worse. You paced up and down the length of your living room over and over again, making a path in the carpet.

"I think feeling this way comes with the territory of dating an Avenger,” Sharon said. “So the mission is taking longer than expected, that doesn't automatically mean he's dead". She was trying you make you feel better, but your racing thoughts wouldn't subside.

Bucky left in a hurry 12 days ago. He had slung his bag over his shoulder, pulled on his boots, and wrapped his metal arm around your waist. The cool vibranium made you shiver as you walked with him to the front door of your apartment. It was 1:39am and the sudden ringing of Bucky's phone startled you. The urgent call from Nat interrupted your deep, soul-baring conversation. You always wished that these would turn into sleepovers, but in the few months that you and Bucky had been together, he had yet to stay the night. He never wanted to make you sleep on the floor or subject you to the screaming and thrashing his night terrors often caused.

Bucky answered the phone, listened for a few moments, and grimaced before hanging up. He told you that they were needed to take out a third party organization that had major ties to HYDRA.

"Based on what Nat told me, I think I'll only be gone a little while" he'd said. "Probably four days at the most... and then I'll be right back here with you, doll". You looked up into his intense, magnetic blue eyes.

"Please promise me you'll be careful. I love you- I need you to come back in one piece", you whispered. He pressed his lips against yours, only pulling back to cup your face in his big hands. “I promise.”

He unlocked the door and kissed you one last time before whispering the words "I love you more, doll".

"I'll update you as often as I can, okay? And don't forget to lock the door behind me". He gave you a wink as he opened the apartment door and headed down the hallway towards his next mission.

It had been 10 days since you'd heard from him. On the second day after he left, he'd sent you a simple text that read "all good. love you." Since then, you hadn't heard a thing. You didn't know anyone on the team; it wasn't like you could just call up THE Captain America and ask where the hell your boyfriend was.

Your anxious thoughts multiplied every day that you didn't hear from him. You were so afraid of getting the call from someone at the Avengers compound, saying that Bucky had been killed in action.

Suddenly, you saw Bucky's name flash across your screen and felt your heart jump into your throat. "Hey- hey Sharon, I gotta let you go".your heart pounded in your chest. "Bucky's calling. I'll talk to you later.”

You quickly accepted Bucky's call and answered with an enthusiastic "HIIIIIIIII!" only to hear a voice you weren't familiar with on the other end.

"Um, Hi. Is this- are you the girlfriend?"

You panicked, assuming that this was the call.

The words barely slipped out passed the tension blocking your airway, "Um, yeah. Yes. Who is this? Why do you have Bucky's phone?"

"This is Sam Wilson," the unfamiliar voice said. "You know, I'm the guy with the wings- the most handsome Avenger."

You didn't laugh at his joke. You couldn't. You were too worried about the fate of the man you loved. You managed to squeak out a "right, right. Hi, Sam."

"So you’re the one Bucky keeps ditching me and the boys for?" Sam seemed nice and at any other moment you would've enjoyed his humor, but not right now. You wished he'd stop being so casual and tell you why Bucky wasn't calling you himself.

"Yeah, I guess that's me." You paused and then without thinking, you let out a desperate "please tell me Bucky's okay."

Sam heard the worry in your voice and changed his tone. He became gentle, less casual. "Bucky's okay, he's here at the compound".

He's okay! You thought. But your relief was short-lived as you wondered out loud, "Wait what? When did you guys get back? And why are you calling me on Bucky's phone?"

"We got back yesterday, around 6pm."

They got back yesterday? you thought. Then why haven't I heard from him?

Sam continued, "Bucky's alright but I think you need to come see him..." His voice trailed off.

That was all you needed to hear. You dashed to the front door and snatched your purse off the hook. You pulled on your sneakers, grabbed your keys, and headed out the door.

"I'm on my way. What's the matter with him?" you ran down the hall toward the elevator, your heart pounding.

"He's just... not in a good place. Mentally. He's messed up," Sam sighed.

You already knew that Bucky was, to use Sam's phrasing, "messed up". The night terrors, the PTSD, the anxiety, the depression, the self hatred- the poor guy had a lot going on in his beautiful head. And hearing Sam say that Bucky's mental state was somehow worse than usual set off loud alarm bells. You got into your car and saw that Sam had texted you the address of the Avengers compound. You'd never been there before and under any other circumstances it would be exciting for you to be heading there for the first time. But you couldn’t find it in you to be excited. You were worried sick. You peeled out of the parking lot and headed toward the compound as fast as you could.

It should've taken you an hour to get there, but you arrived in a crisp 39 minutes. Breaking some speed limits was the least of your worries.

The security guard eyed you with skepticism when he asked for your name. He scanned his screen slower than you thought possible. The seconds ticked by, forcing your anxiety to multiply.

"I'm Bucky's- um, Sargeant Barnes's girlfriend," you said, your voice wavering. “Sam Wilson should’ve called you about me-”

"Oh, yes, I see" the guard pressed the button to open the large gate that stood in front of you.

Sam waited for you in front of the building. And sad you made your way toward him, you realized that you were possibly about to meet all of the Avengers while wearing a t-shirt that said "save a horse, ride a super soldier". A wave of embarrassment crashed over you as you shook Sam's hand, but it was quickly overridden by the nervous look in Sam's eyes.

"Hey, I'm Sam. It's really nice to meet you." You noticed that his tone had changed since your phone conversation. He was worried about his partner/ co-worker/ friend or whatever he and Bucky called each other.

"Yeah, hi. Nice to meet you, too- can I see him?" You wasted no time. You were there to see Bucky and hopefully help him out of whatever dark place he'd found himself in. Pleasantries could wait.

"This way." He led you into the most modern building you'd ever laid eyes on. He guided you down long hallways with impossibly high ceilings for what seemed like forever until the two of you reached a bank of elevators. It wasn't until you were inside the elevator and Sam had pressed the button for the ninth floor that he let you in on what was going on.

"Okay, here's the deal," he sighed, "That 'third party organization' we were supposed to handle was not just some shady corporation doing Hydra's bidding. It was Hydra. Like, full on Hydra."

"We busted in and it was full of Hydra agents... agents that Bucky had worked with-" he corrected himself, "that Bucky was controlled by for years. The facility was almost exact replica of the one they used to hold him in. I think it stirred up a lot of... unpleasant stuff. He won't talk to anyone. I tried, Steve tried, Nat tried, even Banner tried to get into his head. But he's been silent... just staring at the ceiling. Hasn't eaten anything. We keep bringing him food but he doesn't touch it. He's still in his clothes from the mission. Probably hasn't slept, either."

Your heart ached.

"We figured that if anyone could get him to open up, it would be you." Sam shrugged, "Bucky's a private guy, you know. He's quiet. But he talks about you... a lot. I've never seen him smile this much. None of us have".

The elevator doors finally opened and Sam led you down the hall until you reached a heavy-looking door. There was a name plate in the center of the door that read "J. Barnes".

Finally after what felt like years, the only thing that stood between you and Bucky was a door. But you were too anxious to move.

Sam lightly knocked on the door and turned the handle. He instructed you to wait outside for a moment and he entered the room.

"Buck? Hey man, how you doin'?" Sam said, but you didn't hear an answer. "Listen, I brought someone by... maybe you can talk to her."

Sam motioned for you to enter the room and you crept forward slowly, staring at the man you loved. Bucky looked like a different person. He sat on the floor with his back against a wall. He looked like a rag doll that had been roughly abandoned by a child. His head resting up against the wall with his eyes closed. His knees were bent and his forearms rested on them, his hands falling in between his knees.

Bucky was bruised, bloody, and broken. He had a gash in his right eyebrow and dried blood running down the side of his face. He was sporting a black eye that looked incredibly painful, a split lip, a gash on his left cheek- and those were only the injuries you could see. You had no idea what kind of damage laid below his clothing.

Sam looked at you, almost begging for you to do something.

With cautious steps, you made your way over to Bucky. It was hard for you to see him like this. You knew how much pain he'd been through in his life and you never wanted him to experience anything like it ever again. But he had. And he was hurting: physically, mentally, and emotionally.

You knelt down next to him and sat on your feet. Gently placing a hand on his right forearm, "Buck?"

His eyes opened.

He slowly turned to look at you and a smile crossed his face, but it didn’t meet his eyes.

"H-hey, doll". He slowly raised his hand to cup the side of your face, "aren't you a sight for sore eyes?"

You saw Sam leave the room out of the corner of your eye, leaving you alone with Bucky.

"How'd- how’d you get here?" Seeing you in the compound was abnormal, strange. Almost like an anachronism.

"Sam called me. Everyone's really worried about you..." your voice trailed off. The sting of tears burned behind your eyes. A catch in your throat constricted your airway. But you had to be the strong one.

"I'm- I'm fine. I'm okay", Bucky assured you, his eyes downcast. He lied so that he wouldn't worry you. He pushed his agony down and covered it with half- formed smiles and reassuring words. And as sweet as it was, you knew you had to get him to tear down his wall.

"I need you to be honest with me, Buck. Sam told me about the mission. He told me everything.” You gave his forearm a squeeze, “Please talk to me... you don't have to pretend you’re okay. Not with me".

Your words hit him like a truck. He’d been strong for the past 80 years. He ignored his anguish and let it build, let it fester. But his expression changed, his eyes welled up. The wall crumbled. He reached for you with desperation in his eyes, wrapping his arms around for waist and burying his face in your neck.

He cried hot tears all over your shoulder and down your neck. It was as if a dam broke and years of repressed emotion flooded out. The two of you sat like that for a long time. You stroked his hair and let him ride the waves of sadness, fear, and anxiety that plagued him.

When he pulled away, he looked at you with sorrow in his eyes. "It feels like I can never escape", he whispered. "This mission... It was like I walked into one of my nightmares." He ran his hands through his hair and sat back against the wall, dejected. “I relived everything. I relived eighty years in 12 days."

You didn't know what to do. You didn't know what to say. You didn't know how to help him. All you wanted to do was be there for this broken man who you loved so much and make everything okay again.

You tapped your hands on your lap, motioning for him to lay his head there. He looked at you with reluctance, almost like he didn't believe he was actually allowed to do that- to be comforted. But you motioned again, and he gave in. How could he resist?

He laid his head on your lap, he long lots falling against your skin. You looked down at this century old man who, for a time, acted as a ruthless assassin- and saw the young, innocent man he once was. He looked so small, like he needed to be protected. Tears started to gather in the corners of your eyes but you blinked them away.

"Buck..." you stroked his hair like you always did, "I know that nothing I say will ever undo the abuse you endured or stop the nightmares or fix all the fucked up things that happened to you, but…” You steeled your voice, eliminating the slight tremor, “you're safe. Right now, you're safe. You're always safe with me. Okay? I need you to know that.” He nodded against your thighs. “You don't have to put a wall up when you're going through something. And when you feel a flashback coming on or a night terror makes you wake up screaming, I'll be here. With you. I promise.”

Bucky appreciated you, your dedication to him. But he hated bothering you. He hated saddling you with his baggage. “You can tell me anything, Buck. I know you act like you can handle everything on your own, but you don't have to. You don't have to handle any of it alone. I'll always be here."

You paused, and let out a sigh. "I know that doesn't fix anything, but... I just want you to know that you're not alone anymore".

A smile gently pull at the corners of his lips. He dragged himself upward, wincing as his battered body fought against gravity. "I missed you, doll".

He cupped your face in his hands, one warm and calloused and the other cool and smooth. He kissed you for the first time in 12 days and it felt like you'd been brought back to life. You wrapped your arms around him and pulled him closer- but something made you break the embrace. You pulled away and looked at your hand. A sticky, maroon substance covered your palm and dripped from your fingers.

"Buck, what's on your shirt?" You had a sneaking suspicion of what it was, but didn't want to say it out loud.

"Hmm? Where? I don't see anything."

"Turn around for me?” Bucky did as you asked. He waited while huh ran your hands along the fabric of his shirt until you found the spot. Dread settled in your chest.

"Babe, this is blood." Alarmed, you pulled up his shirt and found a massive wound on the left side of his lower back. "Holy shit, Buck. What happened to you?"

"Umm... I don't really remember.” He shrugged, “There was a lot going on... I'm sure I just got grazed by a stray bullet or something. Don't worry about it, doll. I'm a super soldier- I heal fast. He gave you a small laugh that forced a wince to pull at his features.

You ran to his bathroom for a wet cloth, determined to clean up the area and see if it was, in fact, just a graze wound. Bucky removed his shirt and laid down on his stomach like you asked. "Okay, I'm gonna be super gentle", you promised. "I just need to make sure that-" you wiped away some of the blood and were greeted with a large, deep wound that still oozed blood.

"Oh my god, Buck. This is not a graze wound- Did you get stabbed?" Shock sent a shudder down your spine. Had he been so out of it that he didn't even notice an injury this bad? Anxiety made your heart race and rendered your mouth dry. A slight shaking made your hands unsteady.

But Bucky didn't seem surprised. "Yeah, you know what? I think I was, actually. Ummm, it was...” he thought back on the events of the mission, “it was yesterday. Yesterday morning before we headed back. Yeah, that sounds right." He said it so casually. So simply. As though he weren’t bleeding everywhere.

"This is not okay, you need to see a doctor". Bucky's attempt to protest was cut short when you grabbed his phone, called Sam, and asked him to help you get Bucky some medical attention.

He had blood all over his back- some dry, some fresh, and some just starting to congeal. You couldn't believe that this man had had an open stab wound for over 24 hours and didn't address it at all. Didn’t care. Didn’t even notice. You held pressure on the injury while Bucky told you not to worry because he'd had way worse, indicating his metal arm. "Ha. Ha. Ha. That's hilarious, Buck."

Sam rushed in and assessed the situation. He helped you get Bucky up on his feet so the two of you could take him to the med bay. "Guys, come on," Bucky groaned. He leaned on Sam as the three of you waited for the elevator. “It's not a big deal. I'm gonna be fine. I’m a-"

Sam rolled his eyes. "We get it, man. You're a super soldier. You're the big bad White Panther or Wolf or whatever. But your girlfriend says you need to be looked at, and I agree. So shut up."

The three of you shuffled into the elevator and made your way to the med bay. Dr. Cho stood by the elevator, waiting for you.

"Sargeant Barnes, how are you?"

"I'm fine, but these two don't believe me so-"

"Babe, you're bleeding. A lot. You're not fine.” You shot a look at Dr. Cho, “He's not fine."

Dr. Cho motioned for the three of you to follow her into an exam room. Sam sat Bucky down on the bed with a "stay", as if Bucky were Sam's puppy who didn't want to go to the vet. The two of you were asked to leave while Bucky received treatment. And though you had no interest in leaving Bucky’s side, you stepped into the hall.

"Hey, what's the deal?" a voice called down the hall. Sam stood up and as you turned around, none other than Steve Rogers strode in your direction.

"I got your message, I didn't know Bucky was hurt. I thought that-" He was interrupted by Sam clearing his throat and making a not so subtle gesture toward you. "Oh, I'm sorry. Hey, I'm Steve. You must be the girlfriend."

"Um, yeah. Yes. It's great to meet you, Steve. Steve Rogers."

Steve let out a casual laugh. "You don't have to call me by my full name,” he shot you a wink. “Steve is fine. Or Cap. Or Rogers. Whatever you like, but you don't have to be so formal." The three of you sat down while you and Sam filled Steve in about Bucky’s injury.

A glance downward made you realize- Bucky's blood still coated your hands. Seeing that this man, this super soldier who you loved, was actually human absolutely terrified you. He wasn’t indestructible or impervious to injury. He could bleed, he could die.

Sam’s voice dragged you out of your spiral. “Hey- hello? Were you listening?"

Your head snapped up. "I'm so sorry- what?"

Sam restated the information you missed: "Dr. Cho said that she's gonna clean and stitch up the stab wound on Bucky's back, the gash in his eyebrow, and a pretty sizable cut on his thigh. She said it's gonna take a little while and that he's gonna need his rest. Apparently, his accelerated healing isn't all that accelerated right now because of his state of mind these past few days…"

You attempted to make small talk with Sam and Steve for a few minutes, but it wasn't enough to distract you. You were beside yourself. Bucky's body couldn't heal because his mind was in such a terrible state.

You excused yourself, too embarrassed to cry in front of Captain America, and stepped out into the hall near the elevators. Bucky’s body needed to heal- but his mind had to recover first. You were desperate to help him. But you weren't a psychologist and didn't actually know how to treat the human mind for PTSD, anxiety, night terrors, or depression. You had to get creative. You started brainstorming all the small things you could do for Bucky to make him feel even slightly better. And you had an idea.

You hopped in the elevator and took it back up to the ninth floor. Booking it to Bucky's room, you appraised the state it was in. The bed had been perfectly made- and untouched. Never used. Never slept in. You grabbed the duvet and threw it to the floor. You pulled the top sheet out from its tightly-tucked position.

Build Bucky a comfortable pallet was the least you could do. And you knew he was too tired, too injured, to make one himself. You grabbed all the comfiest pillows you could find and spread the duvet over the top sheet. You had to admit that it looked pretty cozy, even to you.

You grabbed Bucky's blood soaked shirt and threw it out, making a mental note to replace it as soon as possible. Over the next few minutes of you working in overdrive, his boots were cleaned and put back in his closet, his duffel bag was unpacked and the contents put where they belonged, and some comfy clothes were laid out for him to change into.

Back in the med bay, Bucky was good as new. His wounds were clean and patched up- against his will.

Steve clapped a hand against Bucky’s shoulder, "how you feeling?"

Bucky shrugged, "I'm fine, I'm good. These two are just over protective". He shot a look at Sam and tried to find you- but you were absent.

Where were you? Did you leave because you were freaked out by his trauma? or the blood? or both?

Bucky started to get anxious. He feared he'd messed up the best thing that ever happened to him. "Wait- where is she?" Sam and Steve looked at each other with mutual confusion. Neither of them knew where you had gone.

"Maybe she went back upstairs?” Sam suggested.

Bucky raced to the elevator, ignoring the way his new stitches pulled and protested. And when he finally threw open the door, he found you. You were cleaning drops of his blood off of the wood floor so that he didn't have to do it later.

You immediately stood up and made your way over to him. You asked how he was doing, but he didn't seem to hear you. He was looking around at the room you'd so lovingly gotten ready for him. The lights were off but you'd turned on two small lamps in diagonal corners so the room didn't get too dark. You'd put the tv on his favorite classic movie channel that played all his favorites from when he was young. You'd arranged an extremely inviting spot for him to sleep in. You’d made this room feel homier than it ever had before.

"Hello? Buck,” you waved a hand in front of his face, “I said, how're you doing?" you looked at him with concern in your eyes. He didn't answer. He just wrapped you in his arms and kissed you like he hadn't seen you in years. It was a perfect moment. You broke the kiss and put a hand on the side of his face. All you wanted to do was stay there with him- but you knew he needed to sleep and he wouldn’t do so if you were still there.

"Dr. Cho said you need to get your rest, babe. So, I’m um, I’m gonna head out” you pressed a kiss to kiss cheek. “Get some sleep, okay?”

He looked disappointed. "You know you're allowed to stay here, right?" Bucky was embarrassed. He felt like he was begging you to stay. "But you don't have to", he said, “only if you want to".

"Wait, I am? Are you sure? Because I asked Sam and he said that I have to have like, security clearance or something…"

Bucky rolled his eyes and let out a groan that turned into a laugh. "He was fucking with you... Dammit, Sam".

You laughed along with him. Relief flooded your system as you realized that you didn’t have to leave Bucky’s side. But something still plauged you. “You’re sure you want me to stay? You’ve never slept over with me before. You said you that you…”

Bucky wrapped his around your waist. “I know what I said but, would you stay with me?”

You nodded and he nuzzled his face into your neck, letting out a small, happy sigh. "Thank you, doll,” he whispered against your skin. “Thank you for being here. For everything."

"Of course, Buck. Anything for you."

[sirenascales]

-> double black [part two] 18+

-> Chuuya x 1stPOV!F!Reader x Dazai

-> Who knew getting fired from work could lead to this?

-> Content: SMUT, slight angst, violence, murder, swearing

A failed friend date turns into a day of fun and laughs with a rather odd coworker. [Dazai x 1stPOV!F!Reader]

3,274 words

Warning: suicide ideation (like, it's Dazai, c'mon now.)

note: I'm glad some of ya'll seemed to enjoy chuuya's chapter! I decided to just upload Dazai's and then we can move on to the story. Please enjoy! Tags in the replies.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Final || masterlist

"Keiko-- Keiko, it's two PM!" I said into the phone, sending an apologetic look to my coworkers. "And I'm at work. You can't be calling me, especially when you're drunk so early in the day."

"Uggghhhh, you're so mean!" I sighed softly at Keiko's response, the office phone on my desk beginning to ring.

"Keiko, I have to go now, I'm sorry! Call Taichi and tell him to bring you home."

"Wait-"

I ended the call, rubbing my eyebrows as I picked up the other phone. "Armed Detective Agency, how may I help you?"

It's been around three months since I've started working at the Agency, and I have to say, it was a pretty great job. It paid well, kept me on my toes with the many different cases we took on, and my coworkers were great... despite how weird they were.

"That's like the seventh time your friend called you this week," Ranpo spoke up from his desk, the man literally surrounded by snack wrappers.

I sighed deeply, rubbing my eyebrows. "I know, I'm sorry everyone. She's not usually like this... I know she likes to drink, but... never to this extent."

"Maybe there is something going on?" the cute Atsushi suggested and I frowned. "Maybe you can try to find out?"

"It wouldn’t be wise to just push yourself into someone's private life like that," Kunikida added and I nodded in agreement.

Of course I couldn't. Not with who her boyfriend was. I was her best friend, but even I knew not to step in. "Besides, she always says she's okay when I ask..." I said thoughtfully, too distracted to continue my work. I could believe her, right? Besides, she had Taichi. He loved her, and always made sure that she was protected and taken care of. He always made sure to be around her when he wasn't away, keeping her to his side at all times. I thought maybe he was being a bit too protective, but I also understood because of his... profession.

"Alright, alright, we have a schedule, people. Let's not get too distracted here," Kunikida exclaimed and I laughed softly. The only one with a schedule was the super punctual man himself, but I still went on to do my work.

"Speaking of work..." I started, unimpressed as I Iooked to the empty desk across the office. "Where the hell is Dazai?"

Atsushi just hung his head and sighed, Kunikida gritting his teeth at his desk. "I tried calling him but he wouldn't pick up," Atsushi sighed again and I huffed, standing up from my desk. "I'll take my 30 now. I'll be in the cafe and I'll try to get Dazai to bring his scrawny ass to work."

The Agency was on the fourth floor of the building while the cafe was down on the first, very convenient for me. I was lazy and the coffee and food was good. I dialed up Dazai's number as I descended the four flights of stairs, pressing my phone to my ear.

At the top of one flight, I stopped when I heard a familiar ring tone blare out, and when I looked down to the bottom of the stairs, I saw the man of the hour. His brown hair was wavy as ever, his signature tanned jacket looking immaculate. I watched as he just looked at his phone, watching it ring before he put his phone in his pocket.

I hated him. "So you were just gonna ignore me?!" I shouted down the stairs. Dazai whipped his head up, eyes going comically wide.

"Bella!" he exclaimed, practically running up the stairs right towards me. I gasped and back away quickly, back hitting the wall as Dazai caged me between his bandaged arms. His forehead pressed against mine and I will my face not to burn as he looked at me with those pretty brown eyes of his. "I missed you."

My heart skipped a beat, my mouth going dry. Still, I glared up at the man. "We just saw each other yesterday," I gritted my teeth, trying to ignore the feeling of his soft breath against my face. I was thankful my voice didn't crack. "And you have plenty of paperwork to do still on your desk."

"Ehhh, I'm tired and I'm busy," Dazai nonchalantly waved that off, now standing away from me and waving his hand dismissively. "Got better things to do."

I scoffed and crossed my arms over my chest. "Yeah? Like what?"

With that, Dazai took my hands in his, a hopeful look on his face. Here we go again. "Double suicide."

"No." I immediately declined him. "My answer is still the same as it was last week."

Dazai visibly deflated, covering his eyes dramatically. "Sweet death... she evades me yet again..."

"Yeah," I deadpanned, brushing past Dazai and heading down the stairs. "Anyway. I'm heading to the cafe to get something to eat."

"Oh!" Dazai exclaimed, hooking my arm with his as he quickly came up to my side. "I'll go with you!"

"You have work to do!" I yelled at him, trying to push him back up the stairs. "Go before Kunikida has an aneurysm."

"But I don't wanna!" Dazai whined, quickly turning the tables on me. Now he was behind me, his arms wrapped around me and pinning my arms to my chest. I felt his breath against my left ear and I shivered deeply. "I wanna spend time with you..." he whispered softly, his voice dropping. I bit my bottom lip, looking over at him over my shoulder. I shivered again, the usual brightness in his eyes gone. I've only seen that look on his face a handful of times, and it never failed to make me feel completely on edge. Like I was in danger.

I liked it.

"Ugh," I sneered, rolling my eyes and shaking myself out of his arms. "Fine, fine. I'll treat today, okay?"

"Yay!" Dazai's jovial nature returned as he followed me to the cafe. I shake my head at the strange duality of the man. We sat across from each other, the redheaded waitress named Lucy that obviously had a crush on Atsushi giving us some menus.

As I looked over the menu, I looked over at Dazai, the man humming as he mulled over his choices. I bit the inside of my cheek, just feeling that maybe there was more to Dazai than he let on.

The weekend soon arrived and I was in a bit of a sour mood. I was at the boardwalk, sitting on an empty bench after getting off the phone with Keiko. We were supposed to spend the day together, but she had called me thirty-minutes late, all of a sudden saying that she couldn't make it.

Her tone of voice worried me, she sounded rushed and breathless, totally unlike her. "I'm okay. I'm sorry for flaking out so suddenly," she said before she ended the call. I blinked at the screen, a bit put off by the entire thing. Just what was up with her?

Though I couldn't dwell on it, for there was a presence behind me. "Well, well, look what we have here," a teasing voice whispered into my ear before blowing into it. I shrieked, jumping off the bench before spinning around.

"Dazai!" I hissed at the laughing man standing on the other side of the bench. "You scared the crap out of me!"

"Bet it got your heart pumping, huh," Dazai hummed happily, skipping around the bench and right over to me. "Bella, I missed you~" he hugged me tightly in his arms. I sighed deeply, half-heartedly wrapping my arms around him in return and giving him a pat on the back.

"We saw each other yesterday."

"Eighteen hours is too long, bella."

I rolled my eyes, pulling away from the huge and giving Dazai a look. "You're so dramatic, dude," I say with a laugh, shaking my head. "What are you doing here?"

"Hmm, well I thought this would be a great place to think about how to commit suicide," Dazai began and I gave him another look. "But, I saw my bella looking so sad and lonely! I just had to rush to comfort her!"

Dazai hugged me again, squeezing me tight. I let out a struggling breath, writhing a bit in his hold. "You're killing me!"

"Oh! Let's commit do-"

"No, oh my God!"

I turned and stormed away from the suicidal man, shaking my head when I heard him call out for me. "Bella, wait!" He latched onto my arm, pressing his cheek against mine. "Tell me what's wrong. I am your trusted friend and coworker~"

"More like trusted pain in my ass," I mumbled before sighing, walking over to the boardwalk railing and staring out into the ocean. "It's Keiko. She was supposed to be with me today, but she just called and canceled..." I frowned deeply, eyebrows pinched in worry.

"What else did she say?" Dazai asked quietly, having gone serious once he saw the look in my face. "How did she seem?"

"Off..." I answered immediately before I looked over at my companion. "Or am I just imagining things? Yeah, I'm disappointed she flaked out but...." I hung my head. "I don't know..."

"Well, it could be nothing," Dazai suggested. "Or it could be something. There's no way for you to know."

I made a face at his vague ass answer before sighing again. "I can only trust her. She was the first friend I made when I moved to Japan, and I was excited to see her today. I've been having a rough time lately."

"Is something bothering you?" Dazai asked, and I shivered feeling his gaze on me.

"Eh... just depressed," I answered offhandedly. "Lonely. Normal sad girl shit, ya know."

That made Dazai snicker under his breath. "Yeah, I know. But luckily for you," Dazai started, arm draping around my shoulders and pulling me to him. "I'm here to save the day!"

I couldn't help it, I laughed before I wrapped my arm around his middle, letting him hold me against him. "You'll hang out with me today?"

Dazai grinned. "It would be my pleasure."

Time flew by so quickly, that I was surprised to look at my phone and see that it was damn near seven in the evening. Gaping, I looked up, seeing that the sky was slowly turning dark. "Holy crap, Dazai. Did we really spend the whole day out here?" I asked in shock, looking over at him. "What the hell did we do?!"

"What didn't we do," Dazai whined, slumping against me. "I'm tired... and you still wanna ride the stupid ferris wheel!"

"It's not stupid," I said with a pout. "Besides... we're already in line."

"Meh," Dazai grumbled, still keeping his body pressed against me as we waited in line. He was behind me, his chin pressed on my shoulder. I tried not to shiver as I felt his breath along my neck.

Soon enough, we were in our carriage and slowly riding up to the top. I took a few pictures as we did so, Dazai looking over in amazement.

"You think the drop from up here would kill me?"

"Yeah, and would scar everyone here."

"Oh yeah... can't have that."

I rolled my eyes, glancing over at him and pausing for a bit. Dazai was still looking out over Yokohama, an expression I've never seen before on his face. He almost looked... sad. Very handsome, his side profile absolutely perfect. But he still looked sad. I took a quick picture, smiling as I looked over it on my phone.

The carriage stopped and I couldn't help but grin as we just swayed softly up in the air. "Thanks for spending the day with me, Dazai. It would have sucked if I had spent it alone."

"Ahh, don't sweat it, bella. I couldn't possibly leave you out here alone," Dazai answered dramatically and I laughed and rolled my eyes. 

I felt a vibration in my pocket and I grabbed my phone, smiling at the cute selfie that Keiko sent to me.

'I'm so sorry for bailing! I'll make it up to you, I promise! ❤ mwuah'

"Is that Keiko?" Dazai asked and I nodded, sending her a quick reply.

"Yeah. She seems to be doing okay," I said, feeling a bit relieved.

"That's great!" Dazai exclaimed, getting up from his spot and carefully making his way to sit beside me, much to my horror.

"Dazai! We're not supposed to move around!"

"We're fine!" he waved me off dismissively. "Now you can stop worrying about Keiko and focus on what's important. Me."

I raised my eyebrows at him. "You?"

Dazai hummed. "Yes, me. And how I'm taking you home tonight."

My jaw drops, face heating up at his words. "Wh-what are you talking about?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," Dazai answered, his voice dropping a bit as his gaze and entire mood changed. His gaze was darker now, his lips curled up in an almost dangerous smirk. "I think it's time we stop tiptoeing around each other and just take what we really want."

My mouth went dry and I quickly became flustered, turning my head away. Immediately, a hand is grabbing my face, Dazai digging his fingers into my cheeks as he forces me to look back at him.

"Nuh uh, you look at me when I'm speaking."

His authoritative tone makes me freeze, heart pounding in my chest as I stared at Dazai, completely bewildered. I knew there was something more about him than he had let on, and whatever it was, had me in fight or flight mode.

"Now, when we're done here, we're gonna leave and head back to my place, okay?" he asked me, but his tone made it seem like it wasn't a request, and it sure as hell didn't match the seemingly innocent smile on his face; not when it didn't reach his eyes.

I nodded, Dazai removing his hand from my face. His smile sent shivers down my spine.

"Good."

"Mmn... fuck, Dazai..." I moaned and gasped softly, the man on top of me littering my neck with angry red and purple marks, two of his fingers working inside my pussy. I was completely naked on his bed, Dazai only in his underwear-- and his bandages still wrapped around his arms and chest.

"Hey, what did I tell you?" Dazai whispered against my neck, curling his fingers and smirking when I cried out. "Call me Osamu. Don't make me tell you again."

I frantically nodded my head, crying out again as he sped up the pace of his fingers, his mouth moving down to my chest. "F-fuck, Osamu!"

"That's it," he whispered, taking one of my hardened nipples into his mouth. My fingers curled into his soft brown hair, head tilting back and eyes screwing shut as Dazai continued to pleasure my body.

It wasn't long until he pushed his hard cock into my wet pussy, the both of us groaning at the feeling of us finally connecting. I was on my knees and elbows, pillow placed under my hips. Dazai started out slowly, biting his lip as he watched his dick disappear inside of me.

"Fuck... I'm gonna burn this sight into my memory," Dazai groaned, making me whine as I shook my head.

"D-don't stare like that..."

Dazai chuckled softly, his hands grabbing my hips as he started to move faster, thrusting harder. I moaned and whined, it seemed to be the only thing I could do while Dazai fucked the shit outta me. "Osamu... please..."

My whining made the man above me grin widely, his thrusts becoming rougher, almost wild as he suddenly reached out and grabbed a handful off my hair. I yelped when he yanked me up, my back now pressed against his chest and his other hand wrapped around my throat.

"What is it, bella?" he hissed into my ear, pounding away at my pussy and making me cry out again. God, it was too much all at once. "What does my pretty little subordinate want?"

I whined. "I want to cum... please Osamu..."

He cackled, pushing me back on the bed, grabbing my hips so hard, I knew I was gonna bruise. "Cum then," he hissed down at me, pushing my face into the mattress. He fucked me relentlessly, fingers finding my clit and rubbing harsh circles. That made my vision go white, my scream muffled as I came hard, body going rigid as pleasure overtook my body.

"Shit, you're squeezing me so tight," Dazai grunted. He pulled out, ignoring my whines as he stepped off the bed. "Get on your back."

I barely rolled over halfway until there was a strong grip on my ankle, my body being pulled down the length of the bed. Dazai stood at the end, wasting no time in pushing my legs back by the back of my knees, and plunging his cock back into me.

I looked up at him through teary eyes, and I knew I should have been afraid of the mad look that was in his eyes, the way his lips were curled up in a snarl. But it just made my pussy clench around him in arousal, eyes rolling to the back of my head.

I came a second time as he did his first, and much to my ultimate pleasure, we weren't finished there. We pleasured each other through the night, until we wore each other out and fell asleep entangled in the sheets.

I woke up the next morning, groaning in pain as I felt my body ache. I forced myself to sit up, looking around blearily and humming softly when I found Dazai sitting on the edge of the bed, his bare back to me.

"Good morning," he sang to me and I giggled softly, carefully moving to kneel behind him. The blankets fell from around me and I pressed my bare chest against his back. "Hm, that's nice."

"Morning," I said softly, peeking over his shoulder. "What are you do-"

I stop, staring as Dazai wrapped seemingly clean bandages on his heavily scarred left arm. I swallowed thickly, my mind running at what could have possibly been the cause of those scars.

But deep down, I knew that the cause was Dazai himself.

"Do... Do you have enough?" I asked softly, not knowing what else to even say. I didn't want to pry or seem insensitive, just having to get over this metaphorical punch in the gut myself.

"Yeah, I'm fine!" Dazai answered, turning to face me with a cheery smile on his face. In a matter of seconds, I was flat on my back, Dazai on top of me with his lips pressed against mine. It was easy for him to make me forget about what I saw, his kisses stealing my breath away.

"I have to go," he said softly, pushing himself off me after a moment.

I nodded solemnly, watching him continue to get dressed. "Alright. See you at work tomorrow?"

He smirked at me. "You know the answer to that."

I rolled my eyes again, just as my phone started to ring. I grabbed it, sending Dazai a quick smile before answering the call.

"Hey Keiko, guess who got fucking laid." That made Dazai snort while I grinned, though my grin fell as I didn't hear Keiko go off like I thought she would. "Keiko?" I shared a look with Dazai.

"Hey... I need you. Can I come over?"

[maplecornia]

Chapter 4

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 3.06K

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: romance | slice of life | fluff | angst | bts x female!reader | ot7

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: You watched them from the sidelines ever since you were a young teenage girl. Now you’re grown up, they’ve returned after 2 long years and everything has changed. What happens when you pull back the mask and find the darkness within? What happens when you see that they’re broken?

𝔞/𝔫: this one is literally just revolving around one of the BTS members. i don't really have much else to say other than HYUNJIN'S BACK and I'm crying.

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: cliffhangers | angst | fluff | slight mentions of self hatred | depression | mental health illness | self harm | occurs in the year 2024 | set in a timeline where BTS went to the military together | slight language

tags: @kookaine | @fangirl125reader | @kookiebbyxx | @taradevonne

Kim Namjoon never imagined he would lose his assistant.

JaeJin was a great worker and a great friend. He loved music and expressed it through his very soul, his every move whenever he danced or helped Namjoon produce a song. Namjoon smiles as his hand hovers over the soundboard.

In the back of his mind, he remembers the days spent here ever since Jaejin was promoted to his assistant. He remembers the first time he met his dear friend, how nervous Jaejin looked, unspoken excitement reverberating off of him in waves.

As Namjoon pushes up the volume on the soundboard, he thinks back to the moments spent as Jae learned how to be his assistant, as Namjoon taught him as much as he could. How what started as respect turned into a mutual friendship, and later, a brotherhood.

Though Namjoon is sad to see JaeJin go, he is happy to see his dream accomplished. He will miss Jae's smile, his laugh, and his good heart, but he knows that just because Jaejin is taking a different path doesn't mean they will cease to be friends.

As soon as Joon finishes a part of his song, he sighs, pulling away from the board and whipping out his phone.

He doesn’t know why he started thinking about him all of a sudden, he was one of the first people to know that Jae was leaving. Besides, he would see him soon, it’s not like Jaejin leaving for a couple of months means that he won’t ever see him again.

Standing, RM walks out of the room, leaving Suga to continue by himself.

He's lucky that Yoongi has his headphones on. If he caught Namjoon slacking he wouldn't get off easy. Carefully, RM exits the room, shutting the door softly behind him as he leans against the wall next to the door to the studio. Turning his phone on, he checks the time, his heart thumping slightly.

8:30 am.

Perhaps the reason his mind is so full of nostalgic memories is that he’s been waiting since last night to meet his new manager.

Jaejin said that his replacement should show up around this time, but he hasn't given much information other than that. Namjoon pockets his phone and heads down the hallway towards the front lobby.

Staff members pass by him, some working for TxT, others for the new girl group they put together about 3 years ago, and even more for the new boy group that BigHit began putting together in 2020.

Namjoon finds their presence surreal.

The members of BTS's staff have been around ever since their debut, and even more, have joined the crew over the years. These staff members will no doubt do the same for their groups, maybe stick around till the very end.

If anyone asked Namjoon's opinion, he would say it was the staff that had to do the real work. And all from behind the scenes. They are the ones who help them put on a great show. They are the ones who tutor them, provide for them, allow them to create their vision, their masterpiece. They are the stitches behind the fabric.

To Namjoon, BTS is just the face. The whole idea of them, of their message, was created through everyone's effort. Including ARMY, including their staff, including BTS themselves.

Losing one of their members would be like trying to fill a hole that cannot be filled.

Perhaps that's why Namjoon is so worried about Jaejin's replacement.

No one can truly replace him.

Namjoon never wanted a new manager.

There was a reason he chose Jaejin out of all the others, a reason he turned a backup dancer into his manager. He needs someone with the same passion, the same grit, the same determination that he has. Jaejin had that, and more. He was able to keep up with Namjoon’s crazy schedule, his unhealthy habits, his tendency to overwork himself.

Normally it was Suga trying to keep up with him, trying to help him, trying to do the best for him, but when he met Jaejin, he found exactly what he needed in a manager.

Will his replacement be able to do the same?

Entering the lobby, he knocks on the counter, where a receptionist is taking a call. She looks up at his knock and he smiles at her, receiving the usual smile back and a slight blush on her cheeks.

After a moment of their little staring contest, Namjoon grows impatient. He indicates silently that he’s waiting to speak with her and her eyes widen in realization. She nods sheepishly at his signal, holding up one finger to signify to him that she'll talk to him in a second. He complies, settling in as she continues her call, faintly aware of Kim Namjoon behind her.

Namjoon is never sure how to feel about these types of things.

People recognizing him in the street, others noticing him even with a disguise, he doesn't know what to do with the attention.

Why didn't people pay attention to him before? When he didn't have all the makeup, the money, and the influence? Are they looking at him because they appreciate who he is as a person?

Or because he is Kim Namjoon?

RM of BTS.

Putting the thought out of his mind, he turns his back to the receptionist, unlocking his phone, and opening the chat with Jaejin. He doesn't see any sign of his replacement, but then again, how would Namjoon know what she looks like?

Hey

YOUNG APPRENTICE- oh hi, what’s up hyung?

When was your replacement supposed to be here again?

YOUNG APPRENTICE- ummmmm, 8:00 am or so, why?

RM pulls away from his phone, looking around for any sign of a girl who looks lost or out of place in the lobby. Every time Jaejin talked about this so-called friend, he referred to them as a “she” so the only thing Namjoon knows about this new manager is the fact that she’s female.

Sadly, as he desperately scours the lobby, there's no sign of anyone there that fits the description. The one girl who was waiting in the waiting area has just been called aside and led to a meeting room. Namjoon, a little worried, bites his lip before a buzz in his hands causes him to glance at his phone.

YOUNG APPRENTICE- Namjoon?

Yeah?

I’m sorry it’s just….she’s not here yet

YOUNG APPRENTICE- WHAT

Namjoon rolls his eyes playfully at Jae's reaction before walking out of the lobby. If she's not here, there's no need to hang around, and it doesn't seem as though the receptionist is paying much attention anyway.

As he leaves, the receptionist stares after him almost hopelessly, Namjoon oblivious to the longing gaze.

He glances at his phone once more maneuvering his way through the hallways of the building.

YOUNG APPRENTICE- are you sure?

YOUNG APPRENTICE- I'm gonna murder her

Well I can’t know for sure

Could I have a picture or maybe a name?

YOUNG APPRENTICE- I never gave you one?

Not to my knowledge

YOUNG APPRENTICE- oh I am so sorry hyung! Her name is Lin Yen and just give me a minute and I'll find you a picture

"Lin...Yen...." Namjoon murmurs, pondering it in his mind.

"Just who exactly are you?" he whispers, putting the phone down once more as he comes to a stop in a corner of the hallway.

Yen...he repeats in his mind, playing around with it, trying to see how it sounds on his tongue, how it feels circling in his thoughts, how it plays on his voice.

It's a beautiful name, one he hasn't heard often, and for some reason, he feels as though it's foreign. Another vibration from his phone jolts him out of his pondering thoughts, and he looks down at the screen, immediately bursting out laughing.

Jaejin has sent the picture of you, but it's not just any picture.

It's a picture of you eating salad.

But that's not what makes it so funny.

You and Jaejin are at a Korean BBQ in the picture, and you hold the signature salad bowl up to your face, your chopsticks hooked around an enormous bite. You're shoving the bite into your mouth, your cheeks puffed up like chipmunks, your eyes wide and nose pinched.

Your expression, your face, the fact that you're attempting to shove a huge bite into your mouth, everything about the picture is hilarious, and Namjoon can't stop looking at it.

He can't stop looking at you.

Now he is sure that you are a foreigner, with that complexion and your facial features. You aren't necessarily tall, but not super short either. Then again, Namjoon doesn't think that Park Jimin is short, so what does he know?

One thing is for sure, though…

You are beautiful.

And it’s not only the physical things that make you beautiful, though they are a contributing factor.

It’s the personality.

The charisma that exuberates off of you, managing to touch him most charmingly through a mere photo. The way you smile, how it lights up your eyes. The blush of your cheeks, and even the color of your hair. Everything about you has captured his attention, and he can't look away.

His smile doesn't want to fade, so he covers his face with his hand, leaning against the wall. No doubt he looks like an idiot, but he doesn't care.

You have that gift.

The natural gift of familiarity when you are less than strangers.

And it has surprised him. The cool, calm, professional, wise Namjoon wouldn't have thought that such a thing could reach his heart...and yet he can't stop smiling.

"Namjoon."

Startled, the smile fading just as quickly as it began, Namjoon jumps, his phone slipping out of his grip. Frantic, and a bit embarrassed, he fumbles to catch it before it falls, but to no avail.

He watches in hopeless despair as the phone hits the ground with a sickening thud, the screen immediately cracking at the impact of the harsh tiled floor.

Namjoon lets out a groan, while a slender, pale hand reaches out and picks it up. Wincing, he glances to his side.

Where Min Yoongi holds his phone in between his fingers as though it were a dirty piece of trash; looking unamused. Glaring at him with a stare as cold as ice, he drops it into RM’s hands before folding his arms across his chest. Namjoon rolls his eyes at his luck, sighing inwardly.

He doesn't look too happy.

"Hey, Yoongi, I--"

"Yes, please explain, Kim Namjoon." Yoongi drawls, his voice monotone and sending shivers down Namjoon’s spine. Almost shamefully, Namjoon turns off his phone and slides it back into his pocket, avoiding that icy stare.

"You're supposed to be helping, yet you left for what? To laugh at memes? Now is not the time to be fooling around with Jackson for heaven's sakes!” Though Yoongi doesn’t raise his voice, the severity of his tone is enough to make it seem as though he has and Namjoon has to restrain himself from visibly flinching away from him. After a moment of silence, Suga sighs, rubbing his temple with frustration. “Why are you so distracted today?"

Joon has been asking himself the same question.

"For one thing, they weren't memes and I wasn’t talking to Jackson. It was a picture of Jaejin's replacement. I was trying to see if she's arrived yet." He explains, a bit indignantly, before walking away towards the studio once more, hoping to escape the conversation.

He should have remembered that nothing escapes Yoongi.

"And did she?" Suga follows Namjoon, managing to walk fast enough to catch up with him and yet still look nonchalant and unbothered. RM sighs at the question, speeding up his pace, as he notices the studio door in the distance.

Jumping at the opportunity, Namjoon makes a break for the door, Yoongi calling after him in surprise. He reaches it, leaving Suga behind in the dust. Opening the door he sinks into a chair as though it were a refuge from the uncomfortable situation he found himself in. As Yoongi comes to a stop in front of the door, Namjoon acts as though he were there the entire time.

"Do you need something?" he asks innocently, and Yoongi rolls his eyes, walking in and closing the door behind him before settling into a chair of his own.

"Yes. I need you to focus on this project. This is important, and is nowhere near done if it's going to be our next title track." He murmurs, immediately setting to work, his mouse echoing in the silence. Biting his bottom lip in guilt, RM turns back to his phone, frowning a bit at the sight of the cracked screen.

Yoongi is right, Namjoon knows this.

They dedicated this day to work on BTS’s new title song.

Namjoon especially wanted Yoongi to produce it because of his incredible skill and work ethic. He practically begged him to take time off from his other projects to work on this with him, Yoongi is sacrificing a lot of his time just to be here.

Namjoon knows how important time can be.

It doesn’t help matters considering how this song is so essential to their comeback album. Promotion is still far off, but it doesn't change the circumstances. ARMY waited for them for so long to come back to them, it’s only fair that they give them the most groundbreaking album they can.

But RM can't focus.

And it’s for such a stupid reason.

Just because Jaejin is gone doesn't mean the world will fall apart.

He knows this, it's just...

Namjoon smiles a bit bitterly, turning back to the booth as he resumes his work once more.

"She wasn't there." Suga turns to Namjoon at the sound of his voice. Namjoon notices but doesn't pay any mind, continuing to play with the soundboard, creating his type of spell, his sort of magic. "In response to your question."

Yoongi doesn't respond, waiting for Namjoon to finish. That's the way he is, sometimes RM can’t finish a thought in one sentence and it takes him a moment to piece things together, what with everything else running through that expansive mind of his. Suga knows when to wait, when to stay silent, and allow RM a chance to tell him everything he needs to.

He's no stranger to listening to people, especially when it comes to Namjoon.

Sometimes, Joon just needs to let something out without anyone saying anything, and Yoongi won't say anything unless he feels it's necessary. He’ll listen, and be there for anyone to lean on, able to offer them the emotional support they need to carry on.

"I'm sorry, I guess I'm a little nervous to meet her." After a moment, Yoongi responds to him, his soft voice carrying across the room in a comforting murmur.

"What's the big deal? If she's professional, she'll be perfect. I'm sure there's nothing to be worried about." He reassures him. RM nods, trying to concentrate once more, and put the thought of your arrival to the back of his mind.

Maybe Yoongi is right, maybe there is nothing to be worried about.

However, Namjoon can't help but think that your arrival will change their lives.

And who knows if it'll be for the better?

𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢: how are you guys liking Jaejin now? lol

chapter 5 here

check the Infinite Stars masterlist for more chapters

check my BTS masterlist for other BTS content

check out my masterlist for other kpop fanfics

[rogue-durin-16]

AN UNUSUAL YEAR (Part V/V)

Summary: After having little to no interest on girls for five years, Fred suddenly feels the need to nag the shit out of a certain witch, completely oblivious to the reason behind it.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Slytherin!Reader

Genre: fluff (+ enemies to lovers)

Tags:

An unusual year: @natural-hearts @manuosorioh @lumos-solemn @westyywifee @whiskeyn-rain @warlock--protection @gossip-girl-ecr @fandomscombine @birdy944 @28cnn

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog

Warnings: a little angst, a little snogging 👀

A/N: maybe a bit longer than I expected but it's alright. Also I might write an addition to this story, not sure tho. I hope y'all enjoyed reading this story as much as I did writing it <3

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

"Y/n! Come sit with us?" George waved at me from the Gryffindor table as I entered the Great Hall, prompting me to sit across him and Angelina, and besides Fred. "Where's Mathilda?" He asked as I got closer, leaving my books on the wooden surface.

"She's feeling unwell." As I sat down, I noticed George's arm around Angelina and I couldn't help the knowing grin that tugged the corner of my lips. "The date exchange at the Ball turned out well, huh?"

"I could say the same about you." He wiggled his brows at me with the same grin I had.

I felt a sudden rush of panic going through my body. My eyes traveled to the boy by my side, who was oddly quiet, and I found him already peeking at me.

"Meaning?" I decided to play dumb, taking a bite of my golden slice of toast whilst ignoring the intending gazes of the couple in front of me.

"You two were having a great time last night." Angelina jumped in, leaning over her table. "Didn't see you coming back, Fred." She added, redirecting her eyes to the ginger.

"I did." His brother laughed. "I daresay you two had an intense night." I felt my cheeks reddening, not finding enough strength to meet George's look. "It was about time, really."

I was startled by Fred abruptly standing up. "See you in class." The curt reply he offered before fleeing shocked all of us; specially his brother, who, with a polite apology, left me and Angelina to go after his twin.

"I feel like I shouldn't ask." She spoke quietly.

"I don't have an answer."

I feared she would see through me. I hadn't lied, but my gut told me whatever happened had to do with the change of demeanor he had at the end of our night out.

I wouldn't say it out loud but a part of me began to worry.

The worry stayed throughout that entire week, guilt joining it at some point. Fred's attendance in Charms, Astronomy and Potions had decreased; I had only see him attend once to Astronomy. The only thing he did was play with his quill and, whenever he thought I didn't notice, stare at me.

Ironically enough, we started spending most of the time together; after the winter break, George had incorporated both Mathilda and me to their friend group, which, in different circumstances, would have been great.

Alicia Spinnet gained special interest on my best friend; Lee Jordan would joke about Slytherins and Gryffindors getting together, and Angelina— well, she seemed happier now that she could hang out with all her friends at the same time.

Fred was miserable. Everyone could see it, yet they did their best to cover it up.

George would overcompensate his brother's attitude by being louder and paying extra attention to me, but it worsened the situation.

I wanted to ask Fred what was wrong, but then again we weren't even good friends, so was it really my place to ask?

~~~~~~~~~~~~

George had proposed a trip to Hogsmade a couple of days ago and we all agreed on going, but the day came and Fred wasn't there.

His brother alleged he had a terrible headache and had chosen to stay in bed. We all saw through his excuse, and once more no one said a word.

It was that night that George came to look for me.

"—well then, go get her!" His shouts got into the common room when a second year entered..

"What's this about?" I inquired, coming out to the hallway to see the ginger about to throw hands at my prefect.

"I need you." He stated, quickly losing interest on whatever the prefect had to say. I only nodded and motioned him to move with me far from the Slytherin door. "You have to speak to Fred now." He almost pleaded, a frown of worry forming on his face.

"Sure— wait, now?" I stared at him in confusion.

"Sorry, I know it's late" his apology didn't mean he would ask me to do it in the morning instead.

I let out a sigh before inquiring, "Where's he?"

"The Astronomy tower, I believe." He replied.

"Alright," I said more to myself. "I'll go grab my jacket." He murmured another apology and a thank you before heading off to his House.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I came to a halt at the top of the stairs when I saw him sat against the wall, his knees pulled to his chest with his arms around them, and his face buried between them."Hey there, stranger."

He raised his head, letting his eyes and nose be seen."Who gave me away?"

"George."

"Tosser" he muttered, taking his gaze to the levitating bundle of newspaper on fire that was probably keeping him somewhat warm up there.

"Is it that bad to see me now?" I took a couple of careful steps towards the boy.

"It's always that bad to see you."

"Odd for you to say that," I let myself slide down the wall to sit by his side with my legs stretched out. "given how much you stare."

"Touché." He replied, the ghost of a smile breaking through his depressed demeanor. "What are you doing here?"

"What's wrong?"

"I asked first."

"I asked second." He raised his brows at me and it was my turn to avert my eyes from him. "I'm... Worried. About you."

When I shivered due to the wind flowing through the tower, he scooted closer and moved the little fire with his wand for it to be in the middle.

"You're all dejected and sulky," I explained. "You barely attend to our classes together, and if you do, you don't pay attention." I felt him shift uncomfortable by my side. "I'm... I'm gonna regret this— I miss you being a bloody nuisance."

"I knew you loved it." His teasing, though it was meant to be funny, sounded almost painful.

"now, what's wrong?" He shrugged, his chin resting over his forearms. "Listen, if you're not gonna tell me, it's fine, but at least tell George."

"Are you thick?" The bitterness in his tone took me aback. "Y/n, I fancy you." He hid his face between his arms. "quite a lot, actually." He added in a mumble.

"I figured that at the ball, you know?" This time it was me who scooted closer. "Tell me that's not the reason behind this."

"Would you like me to lie?" He questioned, shame slipping out with his voice. "I'm a very good liar you wouldn't even question it." He took a deep breath before looking back up, stretching one of his legs and leaning against the wall. "At the ball, I tried to start something." He began, fidgeting with his hands. "I... This never happened to me, so I wasn't- I didn't know what I was doing, but I thought I was making it clear." He tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. "But when I left you—"

"You know I fancy you too, right?" I tilted my head, searching for his eyes. "As in, more than a one time thing."

"That I didn't know." I felt a pang of guilt, realizing that unconsciously I had played a big part on this.

FRED'S P. O. V.

We stayed in silence.

It wasn't an unsettling silence, but the air weighed over us due to the tension floating on it; I needed to defuse it, otherwise it would crush me.

My heart hammered against my chest while I extended my arm to hold her hand on mine.

It's not meant to be nerve-wracking, I thought to myself as I pulled her hand away from her lap; we had already made clear we fancied each other.

The moment she put her head on my shoulder, the tension completely dissipated. I didn't notice the sigh that left my lungs when it happened.

"Didn't put you, Fred Weasley, in the I'm-a-bundle-of-nerves-with-girls category."

"Oh, shut it." I threw my head back, laughing for the first time in a couple of weeks.

"Never." She gave my hand a squeeze and I allowed my cheek to rest over her crown. "You could, of course, find a way to shut me up."

It wasn't her words that cracked me up, but the suggestive tone she used, which took me back to that night in the Duelling Room when I accidentally let slip my feelings for her for the first time.

I raised my head from hers. "Beg your pardon?" I played the fool, trying to hide the ghost of a smile when she shoot me a wide-eyed look. "What are you insinuating, woman?"

"Do you really wanna start the teasing now?" She gave me a warning glare.

"You've just said you missed it." I couldn't hold back the chuckle.

"I knew I was gonna regret it." She groaned, throwing her head back. My eyes, finally on her, traveled to her now exposed neck and collarbone. Though they weren't visible, I could see the trail of kisses I had left there just a few weeks ago. "Stop staring and kiss me."

It didn't take anything else for me to throw the levitating burning paper away and tug her closer by her hand.

The moment our mouths met, I slipped my hand away from Y/n's so I could led her thighs to straddle my legs.

A quiet moan escaped my lips when she rolled her hips against mines; my hands automatically traveled up from her thighs to her waist, pulling her flush against me.

The temperature in the high, cold tower had shot up all from sudden. Just as we were about to start discarding clothes, quick steps were heard climbing up the stairs.

"Fuck!" She whisper-shouted, practically pushing me away as she got up. "Move, move, move!" As she helped me up and we ran to hide, it dawned on me that we were way past curfew. That got me moving.

We waited for Filch to get to the top of the tower before running down as fast as we could.

"No time for goodbyes!" she warned as we rushed through the vast hallways with Filch after us. "See you tomorrow—"

Before she could sprint downstairs to the dungeons, I grabbed her hand and pulled her into a side hall.

"You won't make it to the dungeons." I stated between pants, glancing at the path we had taken. I wasn't able to see the caretaker yet, but his pants could be heard. "Take the other stairs I'll distract him."

"You'll get grounded." She observed, her breathing as heavy as mine, if not more.

"Worth it." I curtly reply, feeling the corners of my lips twisting up.

"You know?" She pushed herself off the wall she had leaned against to catch her breath. "Sometimes you're really sweet."

"Quick!" I tugged on her hand, seeing Filch finally turn the corner. "Gimme a good luck kiss!"

She pulled me down and kissed my lips briefly before taking off in the other direction. I had to tell myself to shake off that stupid smile and run.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

READER'S P. O. V.

The next morning I eagerly made my way to the Great Hall with two goals; having breakfast, of course, and checking if Fred had made it to his House without getting caught.

I soon spotted the group, this time sitting on the Slytherin table.

Soon his eyes found me too, and without saying a word to anyone, he got up and jogged to meet me halfway.

"Did you make it?" I asked, standing way too close to him and therefore attracting some nosey looks.

"By a whisker." He responded, taking a look around before looking back at me. "I was wondering if you'd like to go for a drink after class." I raised my eyebrows at him with a smirk. "We can use a passage to get to Hogsmade."

"Are you asking me on a proper date, Weasley?" I teased with my hands on my hips. "How cute."

He avoided eye contact, deciding to take another look around instead. "I swear if you tease me right now—"

"I'm free after four." I cut him off. "Now if you excuse me, I'm hungry." I passed him by, playfully bumping his shoulder, and made my way to our friends.

I didn't get far before his hands spun me around and cupped my cheeks, giving me a surprisingly deep kiss. "Are you gonna kill me?" He murmured, his lips still ghosting over mines.

"Oh, you know me so well." I replied, feeling my face heating up. We couldn't help but laugh when whistles and hollers came from behind me. "I might kill them too." I added, making fall into a fit of laughter as we pulled away in order to walk to where our friends sat. "I wanna have breakfast in peace." I warned them, sitting down with Fred by my side.

Everyone was giving looks at each other and trying to hold back the giggles, so I knew a comment was coming, but not from whom.

I could instantly tell I wasn't the only one shocked by the speaker. "But you just had him for breakfast." My best friend responded, faking confusion.

"I was just thinking about that!" Lee yelled, a bit too excited.

"Mathilda Foxglove—" I began, everyone cracking up.

"You are doomed." Fred finished, shoving a toast into his mouth to stop his laughter.

"It was worth it." She stated between giggles.

Fred gave me a side look with a half smile and I thanked Merlin no one could see the boy's fingers interlaced with mines under the table.

[aficwhore]

Truth Is

Chapter 1: A Night Many Months Ago

Frankie "Catfish" Morales x F!reader

Summary: When reuniting for the mission in Colombia, Frankie and the reader (nicknamed "Chipmunk"), bicker due to their rocky past. After some angry exchanges, a few truths come out, changing both of their perspectives. Will the relationship be mended? Or once this is over, will they go back to the way things were before?

Word Count: 3K

Warnings: explicit language, blood, violence, guns/weapons, lots of angst and emotions, infidelity, talk of sex and sexual encounters, drinking, mentions of drugs, talk of death, and talk of mental health(PTSD, depression).

A/N: This was inspired by the song "Truth Is" by Sabrina Claudio. I want to make this a series (my first series ever), but it's still being decided, so please let me know if you want this to be continued! And I am still taking requests and prompts! Thanks Lovelies <3

"Cmon, please Chip, we can't do this without you." Santiago begged, his hands clasped together in front of him to show his desperation as he stood before me in my small apartment kitchen. I sighed, glancing around our surroundings. He had come to ask about joining one last escapade, one last job and we'd all be set for the rest of our lives.

Finally breaking the silence and meeting his weary gaze, "Who all have you rounded up? If Will or Benny said no, there's no way I'm doing it without them." I took another deep breath, turning to continue the dishes I had been doing when Pope showed up.

Santi's face began to light up, his stance growing slightly as he grinned, "Great! They both wanted in, so did Tom." Seeming relieved he leaned against the counter next to the sink and crossed his arms.

"And F-Fish?" I hesitated, pausing the scrubbing on the porcelain dish in my hand. It felt like the air in my lungs no longer existed. My heart began to pound it's way up my throat and into my ears.

His head dipped down, feeling the concern laced in my voice. Clearing his voice, he quietly explained "Haven't asked him yet, he was last on my list."

I silently placed the last dish onto the rack near the sink and wiped my wet hands on my jeans, looking down and watching the wet marks gradually making themselves known. No longer forcing myself to make eye contact, I nodded at the ground.

"Look, querida, if you two just talked I'm sure it would work out." He pushed himself off the counter and stepped towards me, reaching a hand out and gently rubbing my shoulder to console me. "But don't let this change your mind, we really do need you."

"When are you going to mention it to him?" I breathed out, wanting to keep any and all emotions at bay. His hand on my arm squeezed, as if he was trying to give me some courage.

"Tonight, at Benny's fight, I thought his spirits would be up enough to persuade him." He chuckled lightly, knowing his plan was to take a little bit of advantage of Frankie's mood.

I laughed softly, "Definitely sounds like a Santi move if you ask me."

He smirked and shook his head "I know, shame on me." As he dropped his hand back to his side he quirked, "You should come tonight, we can go out for drinks after the fight, relax a little before we leave tomorrow."

It took me a second to register what he said, but when I did I burst out "wait what?! Tomorrow? Santi, why didn't you tell me that? You forgot the biggest detail!"

He cowered down slightly, rubbing the back of his neck "Because I knew you'd yell at me, it was worth a shot putting off the anger a little longer." He smiled coyly.

Rolling my eyes I couldn't help but forgive his dumb smile. "Well it starts soon, why don't I get my things real quick and we can head to the arena together?"

His smile widened, "Of course!" I grabbed my purse and keys, making sure to turn off the lights and lock the door behind me. As we made our way down the elevator and out to his car, Santi told me a few details about the missions and the plan. But once we got into his rinky dink ford truck, I turned to him.

"About Frankie, I'm sure one of the boys told you, but just in case; his license was revoked." Santi's face contorted with confusion.

"What? How? Did he crash or hurt somebody?" He questioned quickly.

After taking a breath of courage I spoke, "No Pope. He-He was caught with coke."

Santi stayed quiet, turning the engine on. "I don't get it" A sad expression plastered on his face.

With a furrow in my brow I spoke again, "What don't you get? He was doing drugs, hardcore ones at that". I began to ramble more, "For what reason, I'm not sure, maybe the PTSD and depression. Maybe he felt he had no one to go to-"

"Stop. I know." He cut me off while finally shifting the gear into drive and moving up forward. "You can't blame anyone for this. All we can do is move on and help him. He's our friend, okay? But I know he's still the same Fish, just a little turned around."

"I know, okay. I can't help it. From what the boys told me, he seems to be a lot better." I added, stirring in my seat. "Anyways, it's been awhile since all of us have been back together. It's exciting."

Santi snickered, "But didn't you all hang out while I've been out of the U.S.?"

Seeing that we're close to the arena's parking garage I explained, "I mean, yea, but only me, Ironhead, Benny and Fish. I haven't talked to Redfly in months, we all had a fallout with him. Especially me."

"Tom didn't say anything when I talked to him, Do you wanna fill me in?" He asked with a quirked eyebrow.

Huffing, I turn to face him, telling him the events of that night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~flashback~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The four of us, the Millers, Frankie and I sat on my couch, watching TV and talking, when we hear a bang at the door. I got up to open it and find Tom slumped on the doorway. He looked rough and smelled like he had been drinking the past several days. "Woah, Tom, you're really drunk, and you drove here?"

He snapped, beginning to yell, "Who are you to judge me? Huh? My wife left me, this is how I cope." He angrily pushed his way past me and tumbled into the living room. He was greeted with the boys standing around him with concerned faces.

"What the hell were you thinking? You know how dangerous that is? You know you could've called and we would've been there for you!" I raised my voice back, causing Tom to swing around to face me.

He laughed darkly, "Oh shut up 'Miss Perfect,' just like you did for Fish? When he was nose deep in coke? Or are you too self obsessed? Or do you just have favorites!"

"Hey man, that's not cool." Will interrupted and tried to get a handle on Tom. Frankie lowered his head in embarrassment. Will reached forward and placed a hand on his back, but things escalated more.

"Oh okay, yea protect the whore, we all know she's there for you guys more than just talking. I wouldn't doubt it if you all fucked her too. But me? Nah, you leave me out of everything." Tom howled, yanking away from Will and slurring his words and no longer making sense.

Anger becoming more prominent, I spoke, "Seriously?! Whore?! How is it my fault that you push us away and don't let us help? We include you in everything, but you have your head so far stuck up your ass you never show up!" I've come face to face with him, my hot breath and voice blowing into his face above me. "And another thing, I'm not a whore, you asshole, I'm with Frankie!"

He leaned closer to me, his breath reeking of alcohol, "Just him? Does he know where you're at everyday Monday and Wednesday at 1?! I doubt it!"

Frankie speaks up, "What? What is he talking about?" A devilish smirk makes its way to Tom's face.

"Nothing, I swear it's nothing." I try to explain, making eye contact with my partially hurt lover.

"Tell him, tell him you've been seeing a 'Dr. Philips.' Go on, do it." He rubs it in.

Looking behind Tom, I saw Frankie looking like his world had just shattered. "You've been seeing someone?!"

Panicking, I speak, "Yes, but it's not what you think, I promise!"

"Then what is it?" Tom adds, stumbling back a foot and crossing his arms contently at the damage he just caused.

Benny spoke up, knowing the truth about who I was "seeing." "You need to leave man, you have no right to say shit like that. You don't know the real situation"

Tom burst, yelling "I want her to admit it! I want her to admit that she isn't the perfect bitch she makes herself out to be!"

"Fuck you! Get the hell out of my house!" I scream, tears slightly welling in my eyes. "Frankie-" I turn to him, but to find him grabbing his things. "Baby please, let me explain."

"Explain what? You've been cheating on me?" his voice is loud, and cracks slightly.

A tear breaks its way down my cheek, "I haven't, Frankie, please believe me." I grab his hand, trying to stall his movements, but he pulls away.

"You just admitted it!" He frowns and yanks his hand away and heads for the door.

"That's right Fishie boy! Leave her, she's no good anyway!" Tom squawks as Benny grabs a hold of him and shoves him to the door, Will right behind to help.

"You bastard!" I lunged forward and swung my hand, landing right on the side of his face with a loud crack. Frankie spun around, startled at my actions.

The action only fueled Tom's anger because he ripped away from Benny's grip and grabbed me. I didn't back down and started to shove him and swing my arms, hitting him in the face and chest as he fought back.

But just as quickly as the fight started, it ended. Frankie tore me off of Tom, pinning me to his chest and stopping my brutal hits. Will and Benny wrested Tom into submission and dragged him out of the front door as he yelled slurs at me, and dumped him outside with a battered face.

While the brothers were dealing with a drunk Redfly, Frankie scolded and verbally fought with me.

"Just tell me! Who is Dr. Philips!" He questioned, slightly shaking me by the shoulders.

With many emotions running through my head, I couldn't process what was going on. "I-I can't, Frankie, I can't even admit it to myself." Tears streaming down my face I brought my hands up to the sides of his face. "But you have to believe me, por favor (please)."

Francisco looked like he was fighting an emotional battle in his mind. He finally spoke, "Either you tell me, or I leave, I can't do this, not if you keep things from me."

Feeling my heart break, I whispered "Please, mi amor (my love), don't make me. I'm not strong enough." My eyes now running like an open faucet and my hands tightly pressed to his cheeks.

He blinks away tears, reaching his hands up to grab mine and pull them away from his face, "Then I have to go." He drops my hands and turns to leave.

"Por favor no me dejes! (Please don't leave me)" I call after him, watching as he heads out of the door and into the night, leaving me alone. I drop to the floor, tears blurring my vision and all that can be heard are my sobs.

After what feels like hours, Will and Benny return, picking me up off the floor and taking me to my bed. They lay me down, attempting to help my emotional breakdown. They pick up whatever mess that was left after the event of that night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~end flashback~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"And after that night, Tom was no longer invited anywhere with us. Frankie distanced himself and refused to talk to me. But Will and Benny did their best to be there for me in any way they could. They did the same for Frankie. But as for Tom, they casted him out, because he changed, badly." I finished covering the story of that night, fighting the tears that threatened to spill. "And the Dr. Philips I was seeing, was my therapist. I didn't want anyone to know I wasn't okay mentally. I was embarrassed and part of me didn't want to admit I needed help. The lives we chose aren't easy."

Santi parked, and seemed shocked, "I'm sorry love, I knew you split with Fish, but didn't know any details or about Tom." He reached over and patted my thigh sympathetically. "I really am sorry that you went through all of that because Tom was an asshole. You really don't have to do this-"

"No I want to, I'm in a better place, so is everyone else." I smiled shyly, wanting to lift the spirits. "So what do you say? Let's go wrangle up our boys and get rich?"

Pope smiled brightly, "Hell yes!" We both got out of the car, and headed to the back of the arena and knocked, hoping Will was there to open it like he told Santi he would. Much to our luck, the door swung open to reveal a tall, smiling, blonde Miller brother.

"Brother!" Santi chuckled as he pulled the eldest Miller into a hug, clapping each other on the back. They pulled away as Pope headed inside to find the others.

"Hey pretty girl, long time no see." Will joked, hugging me tightly.

I scoffed, "Will, you were just at my house last night." We both laughed and he led me into a rank smelling locker room, which I assumed was for Benny to get ready. As we rounded the corner, I saw Benny and Tom chatting on one of the benches between the lockers.

"Chipmunk!" Benny roared as he ran over, picked me up and spun me around. "I missed you! I'm so glad you could make it!" He sat me back down and stepped back to sit on the bench again.

"Of course, I wouldn't miss you getting your ass beat for the world!" I giggled as I winked at him, showing the younger of us a bit of love.

He shook his head with a grin. As my eyes left him, they met with the eyes of Tom. He seemed to have a look of regret, trying to give me a sad smile.

I walked over to him, reaching my hand in a fist forward, lightly tapping his shoulder, "Hey fly, how you been?"

A small wave of relief washed over him as he responded "I'm good Chip, how are you? And look I'm really sorry, I wasn't in a good place and I regret-"

"Its okay Tom, really, it is. I'm just glad you're better. It's water under the bridge." I sit next to him and pat his back, showing that all, or at least most, is forgiven.

He nods slowly, "Thank you, it means a lot that you're here."

"Oh cmon you have to admit it, you couldn't do it without me, the best there is." I pretend to act over confident and burst into laughter. And Tom joins in.

As Tom and I begin to catch up, talking about what we've missed these past several months, I overhear a conversation.

"Hermano (brother)! How are you?" Santi greets Frankie, I assume, he was the last of us, who wasn't already here. When I realize that it is him, my heart begins to race. My skin starts to burn and get hot, my palms becoming sweaty.

"Pope! Benny! Ironhead! What is this, a reunion?" Frankie's voice echoes as they come closer. As the three round the corner, "All we need is Redfly and Chip-" Frankie stops as we become revealed to him. Tom gets up immediately and struts over to give Fish a hug. Frankie's face lights up with glee and hugs him back. When they step away from each other, I wearily stand up and all he does is give an awkward smile and nods in my direction.

Benny attempts to whisper to Santi, "Ouch, that's cold." And Santi jabs him in the stomach with his elbow, causing him to double over and make a "hmf" sound.

Being slightly hurt, I break the uneasy tension by opening an invitation, "Alright well I'm gonna go get a beer and find us some good seats, it's close to showtime!" Faking a smile I continue, "Who's coming?"

"Me, I can't be in here with this doofus anymore." Will chuckle as he ruffles Ben's hair and follows right behind me.

When we make it to the concession stand and order beers, Will taps my arm, "How are you feeling?"

With a sigh, "Honestly I expected that, but it hurt more when it actually happened. But what can I say." I grab out drinks from the concession worker and thank her and turn on my heels to find a seat. "I love him, and if that means waiting to mend things, it worth it, even if it means waiting forever."

Will offers a sympathetic grin. "It'll work, just watch. Oh! Over there! Perfect seats!" He points as his attention was caught by an opening near the rink. He pursues it as I follow behind.

While we sit, we joke around, waiting for the rest of the gang to come sit and watch Benny get thrown around. Finally the last three show up and sit with us, Tom sat on Will's right side, me on his other side, Santi on my left, but when Frankie walks up, he bends down and whispers to Santi, causing him to scoot further away from me and leaving room for Frankie to slot himself between us. Which took me by surprise. Once he was seated, he glanced over to me and gave me a genuine smile.

We don't say a word as the lights begin to dim and the announcer's voice breaks through the speaks, introducing our dear Benny and his opponent.

Our small group starts to cheer and scream Benny's name, to show him support. As he enters the rink, he searches for us, and when he finds us, he smiles big.

In the midst of all the commotion, Frankie leans over and whispers to me, "I missed you, cariño (sweetheart)."

My face whips around to meet a very close Fish, who is smiling. "I missed you too." I give a small smile and lean to my side to shoulder bump him, as he places a hand on my knee.

[love101imagines]

Way too much

request: could u pls write a imagine with Sinan,I was thinking about him and you being the best childhood friends, but they ended up getting away a lot, so some teacher spends a double job and chooses them to do it together, so they spend a lot of time together and discover that they still like each other

tag list: @zaynlikfalls @wwafangirld @girl-looking-out-window

If you asked Sinan if he had ever been happy he wouldn't answer. However, his mind would go back to the time when he was six and he used to spend every hour with his best friend, meeting you since you two lived in the same neighborhood and we’re the same age. You, the girl he used to play around on the park under his grandpa's care, the same one he used to watch cartoons with until you two fell asleep on his couch, and the one he used to play wrestle until one of you ended up with an accidental bloody nose or a broken tooth.

You were also each other's first kiss, the result of a dare when you two were nine and you wanted to know what it felt like after you watched a romantic movie.

Everything changed when you turned twelve when it was one of those nights your parents were out and you two would stay up late watching horror movies. With a blanket covering most of your face and eyes glued to the TV, you didn't notice how Sinan was looking at you.

When a jumpscare happened and you yelped, immediately grabbing his hand, he blushed slightly, finally realizing he was in love with you. And it terrified him. Even more than the old movie you were watching on the couch in your living room.

He felt his heart breaking when a few days later you arrived at his house on the verge of tears because your dad had received an offer for a better job in Ankara and you would be moving in some weeks. The only thing he could do was hug you, trying to calm you down as you continued crying into his shoulder.

That had to be one of the many disappointments he would face during his life, but he slowly got used to it, expecting people to always leave him, just like you did.

"You're staring." Eda pointed out, a smirk on her face as she leaned against the wall behind her. "Who are you looking at?"

Sinan gulped, back to reality before he looked away. "No one." He snapped in an annoyed tone.

Eda rolled her eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh as she went back to the drawing on the wall. He mentally cursed himself as he looked back at the group of girls standing nearby, no sign of the girl who had been his best friend for almost seven years. His mind had to be playing games on him, probably from drinking too many that day. There was no way you were at school, he must have seen someone similar.

He didn't have much time to think about it, focusing on the ticket Osman was handing to him for a concert.

"I'm off to the infirmary to sleep." He announced, already feeling a migraine he didn't have any intention of increasing.

Taking slow steps, he walked away from the group. The ticket was in his shirt's pocket, and he only had one thing in mind as he walked through the halls. To stop the feeling on the pit of his stomach after thinking about you in months and to sleep.

"Sinan!"

He didn't even get a chance to fully turn around before you crashed into him, standing on your tiptoes so you could wrap your arms around his neck. He didn't recognize you for a second, believing someone was about to punch him when he heard his name being called but he didn't even have time to flinch.

It was only a second though before his eyes widened and he wrapped his arms around your waist, finding comfort in the fact that nobody else was around and you two were the only ones standing next to the infirmary's door. Feeling you hug him again definitely was one of the best feelings in the world.

"(Y/N)?" He asked, chills running up his spine at the feeling of your skin against his.

You pulled away after a few seconds, even if you were sure the whole hug lasted for at least two minutes until he let you go. "The one and only." You teased.

You took a minute to get a good look at him, your hand still lingering on his shoulder. He looked...well, you didn't care about the bags under his eyes or the fact that his breath smelled of alcohol, the only thing that mattered was that you were with him again.

Sinan looked at you up and down too. Your hair was a bit shorter, not in your usual braids that you used to wear all the time. Your cheeks weren't as chubby as before and your legs weren't as skinny, and the small scar on your upper lip was faded almost completely, just like the one on the bridge of his nose.

But still, you were beautiful. That was undeniable.

You gave him a toothy grin, the same one you used to have all the time when you were kids. "It's so good to finally see you again. I missed you so much."

He nodded, a soft smile on his face as he looked at you, any thought about the migraine already gone. "When did you come back?"

As you started your rant about your father finding another job offer here in Istanbul and coming back a week ago, his mind couldn't help but drift off that you hadn't seen each other in years and many things had happened in between. His parents had abandoned him, he had turned into an alcoholic and he was about to be expelled. You, on the other hand, didn't know any of this, and he was sure you would look at him in disgust once you found out he wasn't the same twelve-year-old you had trusted with your whole life before.

He didn't even notice Osman calling him to meet when the rest until you tugged in his arm.

"What?" He asked emotionless turning to the taller boy.

Osman didn't seem to care, already used to his attitude. "Eda convinced Miss Burcu, we need to find a way to convince Coach Kemal."

Convincing Coach Kemal couldn't matter less to him, glancing at you because he wanted to take advantage of the fact that you still believed that he was the sweet boy who you had grew up with. It wouldn’t last for long, but he wanted to at least enjoy that time until you were disappointed.

You only gave him a reassuring smile. "Go on, I have to fix some things about my schedule but I'll see you later. We have a lot of catching up to do."

A bit less unsure than before, he nodded, giving you one last smile that lasted a second before he left, his heart pounding with so much force he didn't know how the rest couldn't feel it.

While Kerem was busy talking to their teacher, it didn't take much for him to run into you again, sharing your same classes. Even if most of the time he slept through Chemistry class without anyone bothering him, his brows furrowed as soon as he heard someone sitting next to him.

You only chuckled after waking the boy up, Sinan's face softening immediately. "Um, rough day?" You asked, not sure of what to say once you noticed the flask near his bag.

He shrugged, slowly leaving it inside his bag and taking out a notebook, trying to show that he cared about school even if he truly didn't anymore. Nevertheless, your bubbly attitude surely did something to him. It was like you two had never been separated before while the rest of your new classmates didn't understand why the new girl was hanging out with him, the depressed boy who mocked everyone.

It was to his luck that your teacher chose you two to work together on an assignment. Of course, you were happy, thinking you could make up for all the lost time and he allowed himself to feel happy too, even if he knew he'd fuck it up like he always did.

"So?" You started the next day as you two walked towards your home.

He raised a brow at you, his hands fumbling with the hem of his shirt. "So what?"

You rolled your eyes in a teasing way. "I want to know everything that happened since I left. My parents didn't tell me anything because they're busy with their new jobs and we haven't had time to talk. How are your parents?" You added, mindlessly looking at the colorful neighborhood you were walking past.

It was a loaded question and Sinan thought for a moment, waiting for you to find your keys in your bag. "They got divorced."

You almost dropped your keys in surprise, not knowing what to say like when you found him with his flask. "Oh." You mumbled, awkwardly opening the door for both of you. "I'm really sorry, I didn't know."

"It's fine." He brushed it off, not wanting things to change and be more awkward. "I've been living with my grandpa since I turned fourteen." He explained as he followed after you, taking off his shoes just like you were doing.

"How is he?" You asked with a smile, with a better mood knowing that the older man who used to take care of you two when you were younger was still alive.

"You know him, he doesn't die." He said, earning a slap to his arm.

You two ended up sitting on the floor of your room, a few books next to you, and a music cassette in the background. It felt like when you were seven, and he would trace out different pictures and you would giggle and try to bump his hand out of the way to color it in.

"What was Ankara like?" He asked as he turned the pages trying to look for something.

You continued highlighting a few phrases sitting in front of him. “Um, nice I think. I met a lot of people, went to a few parties, the school was pretty good.”

He glanced at you, absentmindedly doodling on his notebook. “Did you have fun in the city?” He asked sarcastically.

You punched his arm in a teasing way. “Yeah, but there wasn’t anyone like you.”

You only received a small smile before you sighed and moved over to sit next to him, knowing that he didn’t take notes and this was the most he had done in months.

“I have a question for you.” You told him.

“Go ahead.” He answered, still calm which was weird.

If someone else had asked him something personal he wouldn’t have answered or he would have given a sarcastic answer, but you were the one who was asking him. He could never snap at you.

You grinned at him. “How much did you miss me?”

He sighed, turning to look at you with a small sparkle on his eyes. “Way too much.”

It was in that moment with your smile that a small glimmer of hope built inside of him. It didn’t seem to bother you that he slept through most lessons, or that he showed up at school with messy hair and his tie undone, or that he always had his flask close to him. He hadn’t even taken a sip since you approached him that day so you two could go to your house.

“I tried to write to you.” He started, eyes directed to the floor so he didn’t have to meet your eyes. “My mum gave me your new address but...I always ended up crumpling them up and throwing them away.”

When you left, he used to write a letter every day, always trying to find the right words to express how much he missed you and to express his true feelings whenever he thought about you. It helped a bit to pour out all the feelings he didn’t know how to tell you in person, but out of fear of rejection or of ruining what was left of the two of you he never sent them, destroying them completely.

You furrowed your brows confused. “Why?”

A few seconds passed, your music being the only sound in the room.

You bit the inside of your cheek, fumbling with the hem of your skirt, knowing that things had changed between the two of you. “Sinan, it’s fine, I know that it’s been years since we...”

“Are you going to leave again?” He interrupted you, a hint of anger on his voice.

“What?” You blurted out.

“You left once, it wouldn’t surprise me if you did again.” He continued, a scowl on his face.

You crossed your arms, trying to act firm in front of him. “Are you serious? We were twelve, I didn’t have any choice and you know that.”

You stayed like that for a while, no trace of a smile on your face and a hard look on his until he gave up.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled. “It’s just, I...I don’t want to lose you again.” He admitted, vulnerability palpable on his voice.

You found yourself wrapping your arms around his shoulders again, hugging him for the second time in the same week. He didn’t seem to mind, his arms holding you by your waist and keeping you close to him.

“I won’t leave.” You added softly. “I promise.”

You tried to pull back to look at him, but it was to no avail, his grip on your waist tightening with each passing second. “Sinan.” You muttered, your hands finding his.

He was painfully aware of how close you are to him. It was like a deja vu from when you kissed for the first time, and with your eyes fixed on him, you didn’t even notice that one of his hands that was on your waist moved to the back of your neck until he was kissing you.

After you closed your eyes, you smiled against his lips. The kiss was slow, and you left your hands on his neck, bringing him closer. He didn’t pull away until you finally did for air, placing your forehead against his shoulder with your eyes closed, feeling your heart beat in your ears.

You weren’t seven anymore, you were now teens who could admit why you felt so comfortable around each other, or why one of the bests things of your day was to talk to him.

“About time.” You mumbled with a smirk, and he thought the same.

About fucking time.

[resinatingbeauty]

In Memory of The Best Friend I Ever Had - RIP Shadow (assumed)- 4/30/2021

Shadow showed up at my parents house where I lived at the time, one night back in 2016. I had just gotten home from working at a local country club late in the evening, tired, and physically burnt out from working 40+ hours a week on top of going to college for my associates degree. I saw something pass by the driveway out of the corner of my eye. Something massively fluffy, tail straight up in the air, trotting along. There are many feral cat colonies in this town and many cat owners that lived on that street. Needless to say, I didn't expect this one to whip back around and start chirping at me, rubbing my legs after I called to her.

My mother was adamant when my last two cats had past 8 or so years prior that she wasn't looking for any more pets. My mom loves animals, but she also loves her home and was thinking about doing renovations before adopting any new companions. I knew I was in trouble when this cat came to me with nothing but affection, clearly malnourished, but strangely well groomed. I knew she had to be owned by someone, I had no idea who.

That night I went inside after spending some time enjoying her company. At the time, I was calling 'Charlemange'' as a play on 'Charlemagne'. I had been taking a medieval humanities course at the time and the name seemed fitting enough considering how much scraggly fur she had. Huge paws. Big, fluffy tail and mane. I had never seen a cat so gorgeous around the area. All the feral cats are short hairs, reinforcing my notion that she had to be someone's pet.

I watched through the window slit of the front door as Charlemange played with the moths and other bugs that were attracted to the lamp post my parents have at the end of the driveway and regretted leaving her out there.

I simply thought that Charlemange would return home where she belonged. When I went out to my back screened in patio, whom do you think was waiting for me? Meowing? Charlemange. To my mother's horror, she would launch herself at the screen and hang there to get our attention. Imagine this big ass cat hanging from your screened in porch you've been trying to renovate by all her claws.

She was persistent and Charlemange NEVER returned home, wherever home was.

Eventually, I sealed the deal, low key giving her a can of tuna. Now you see how Shadow went from Charlemange to Shadow.

For about a month, all I had to do was make a high pitched noise and Shadow would come out of wherever brush she was stalking, running and talking until she found me. One evening, I went to give her her dinner, and she shot in the front door.

Mortified, I watched as she scooted right into the one place that I dreaded her to go. My parent's room. That night, as a 20 something, I received a lecture from my father about how my mother felt about pets. 'She isn't a kitten, you know,' he said, 'thats a grown cat. Someone else's cat.'

I just listened and acknowledged what he was saying. I knew there was no point trying to explain what exactly happened. When my dad got done going off on the back porch and went back in to bed, I heard a meow from the patio door. Shadow had been standing at the door, waiting for him to leave , almost like she was saying, 'Hey, I'm really sorry about that, sis,'

Shadow would go on to live in or around the property for nearly a month. I made an effort to find her owners and return her to no avail. Eventually, a single mom I had been working as a private tutor for as a side hustle agreed that she would take Shadow. This would only last for a few months. The family had another cat, Karma, whom had been declawed (I abhor this) and two little girls who had no respect for animals (especially cats) because of this. I knew how the oldest handled Karma and my only solace in handing Shadow over was that I knew she wouldn't be hit by a car, would be fed, loved to a degree, and would scratch the shit out of them if they fucked up.

Their mother ended up calling me, giving me money to bring Shadow in to the humane society, saying she was a wonderful cat, just not the best fit for the girls. I could only imagine what Shadow went through at that house, because the time there changed her. The collar I had on her was returned to me snapped in two. It looked like it had been pulled off. I cringed thinking about it and never put another collar back on that cat. At the time, a woman had been busted hoarding 100+ cats that had all been relinquished to the humane society and local rescues. The humane society's solution for most was euthanasia and I wasn't about that for Shadow. Back to my backyard she went.

Eventually, Shadow won over my mother and my father, especially my father, whom you would never think would love that cat so much. When my mother brought Shadow to the vet, we were surprised to find she had a chip in her ear registered to someone on our block. As per protocol, animal control was sent out to investigate. The woman told animal control that she didn't want the cat. All she did was run away. Shadow's real name was Holly, but she was still Shadow to me.

Shadow became the best friend I ever knew. Not a night went by where she wasn't under my covers sharing the pillow with me, laying stretched out on her back or side as the little spoon. If she wasn't in my bed, she would sit at the door to the bedroom, guarding me or in a chair next to me, always watching. I could do no wrong in that cat's eyes. She was the highlight of my day when I got home from every crappy job I had since. A furry coat to soak up the tears shed during long nights of insomnia and depression. An inspiration for my art and spirituality. My familiar and kindred spirit. If I would talk to her, she would respond with chirps and meows like she knew exactly what I was saying. If someone else was in the room giving her attention and I walked in, she would perk up and run toward me like they never existed. Shadow was the second cat that chose me. I have never chosen a cat from a shelter or adoption / rescue facility. This is how I acquired both my childhood furry friend and Shadow.

It all began when I noticed Shadow's fur was sticky and stiff, like she had been sitting in honey. Just the end of her tail at first. She always had this silly habit of sitting in her food tray, so I cleaned it and her and thought nothing of it until the drooling started.

Shadow had always been a drooler, but not to this extent. Drool bubbles would pop from her left lip. One night, when I came home from work before I started my leave to focus on my Etsy shop, I was horrified to find her sitting on the couch with a bloody chin. Now, there wasn't a large amount of blood, but this alarmed me significantly. It was time to see a vet, like, yesterday. Thankfully, my shop sales had been great and I didn't have to fret over the bill- I was ready to pay whatever it was to make her feel better.

The vet confirmed what I knew deep down and didn't want to acknowledge because the thought was just too painful. Cancer. No chance of survival even if I wanted to go through the hell of treatment, which involved removal of the tongue and jaw. I brought Shadow home and cried, hoping for the best -that the antibiotic would work. The vet said she had been wrong before, it could just be an abscess and it would heal. Shadow was still doing cat things. Shadow was still my best friend, she still loved me, she was still trying to cuddle me at night and surrounding me with the reminder of death in the odor of her breath.

Yesterday, I brought Shadow in to be put to sleep. The decision was made when I looked up from making a rune set and saw puddles of blood on the floor, a stream of it from her face as she was sitting in the window sill. I have never felt so heartbroken. Not even at a family member's funeral. I asked to bring her home, burying her under the tree where I buried my last cat and childhood familiar, Elmo. When I saw the standard biohazard bag peeking up through the dirt, I knew that was where she belonged. With her sister. Yesterday, my heart was buried with that cat. Eleven years was not long enough but each one filled with so much love and happiness. I stood with her until the end. The only peace I feel is that I know that she is no longer hurting. I know she knew I loved her.

I miss you Shadow. To those of you who have recently lost your best friend, your familiar or the love of your life, my heart goes out to you. I hope that someone else can read this and share my pain. I understand that there was nothing I could do but love her. Love your pets. Love them as long and as well as you can- nothing is immortal. We accept this when we commit to caring for our (mostly) furry (sometimes scaly or feathery) friends. This doesn't mean that it hurts any less when we lose them.

To my customers, who have been patiently and diligently awaiting orders while Etsy forced hiatus on my shop, preventing sales during this crisis in addition to my sister in law's wedding and me poking my own eye out back and February- you all are really the best turn of luck I've had. You do not know how much I appreciate you allowing me the time to spend these last few precious moments with her. It truly means the world to me and I hope at the end you receive something worth your time and patience. I have not forsaken fulfillment, and orders are still shipping. Unfortunately, I NEED to reopen and accept new orders, as Etsy is demanding payment for $600 worth of shipping labels. My shop is still appearing as in hiatus at the moment, but I ask for all the support my friends, supporters and followers can offer at this time as I essentially will be working for free when I reopen to pay these fees. Great, right?

If you are awaiting refunds, there is literally no money in the account associated with Etsy. However, as the funds become available, I will be processing refunds / cancellations. I'm sorry for the delays, I never thought I would say I found success at the worst possible time. I urge the rest of you- if you have a deadline for your order for the love of goddess TELL ME. I am getting a little frustrated with buyers (who are frustrated with me, understandably, but still, my item descriptions are clear about relaying deadlines) who are upset or complaining about meeting gift deadlines or other deadlines I literally had no idea about. I'm a decent psychic, but not perfect.

~ Samantha

(Owner/Designer/Creator blursedbaubles.etsy.com)

[fitzs-trained-monkey]

Chapter Thirty-Four: The Revelation

Rated PG-13 For mentions of abuse, trigger topics such as suicidal thoughts, torture, language, and kidnaping.

Masterlist

~I am not the only traveler

And then I can tell myself

I had all and then most of you

When the night was full of terrors

There aren't very many things worse than watching one's little brother die. I think the only thing worse than that is enduring it twice. I had already had to watch Jasper be slaughtered like a pig in front of me. Wasn't that torture enough for a lifetime? Was having to salt and burn my own brother the universe's twisted idea of a joke? This wasn't funny!

What kind of cruel world was I living in? Why did my last words to my precious little brother have to be empty promises? How was that okay? Jasper would spend the rest of eternity waiting for me to show up, tell him my stories, and tuck him into bed, but I never would. Because if I lived, I would be stuck down here on this awful planet, reliving the same day over and over and over again. And if the Winchester's decided to kill me when they found out what I was, then I wouldn't be going to heaven. I already knew where I would go. It wasn't anywhere good.

Well, if my life was a joke then I hoped at least somebody was getting a kick out of it.

I knew I wasn't.

From the top of the stairs, I heard Sam, Dean, and Cas open the sliding glass door and shuffle outside. Jack firmly insisted on staying here. He probably thought he should stay in case I ' needed him ' for comfort or something.

'Well, joke's on you, puppy, cause I don't need anyone.' I thought, bitterly. I traveled down the dark hallway to my room, the one with the plain white door all the way down on the end. The door opened with a soft click and squeaky hinges and I kicked it shut behind me.

My room was exactly how I had left it. Not a single thing was out of place. Of course, it was about as far away from immaculate as anything can get. There were pieces of paper strewn all over the desk, plenty of wadded-up sketches in the trash can and even more outside the trash, pencils were left in strange places, and mix-matched fairy-lights draped over  way  too many things. Miscellaneous articles of clothing were draped over a chair, clustered around the laundry basket, crumpled on the bed, and a few were even hanging from the doorframe of the closet. The bed wasn't made, the blankets and sheets hopelessly tangled together and there was an atrocious number of glow-in-the-dark stars glued to the roof. Oh, and let us not forget the rainbow-colored streamers hanging from the ceiling fan, so really everything was just an absolute mess.

But it was a comforting mess and that's how that girl who used to be me had lived. She had been a scatterbrained, messy-haired, and bright-eyed sort of girl, she'd had so much potential. That girl could have great. Her mess comforted me too. Maybe she wasn't as dead as I'd thought.

"Well, I'm just about done with this whole damn popsicle-stand of existence. You?" Isaac asked, sounding more dead than he looked.

"Done," I agreed. "So, so done."

I flopped down on my already messy bed, staring up at the tacky stars on the ceiling while I tried to come to terms with the fact that I'd never see my little brother again. I couldn't feel the prickling of tears forming in my eyes. I guess I'd run all out of tears to cry. Lucky me. I felt like throwing up.

"Should we go down fighting or give up and roll over? What say you?" Isaac collapsed at the foot of my bed.

"What's the point in fighting?" I asked, shaking my head.

"Dunno." He shrugged. "Frequent flyer miles?"

"So... Nothing?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

Maybe I would just attack the Winchesters once I tore Felix to sheds. Maybe they wouldn't kill me fast. Maybe they'd make me suffer. Then maybe I could cry like I was supposed to.

I had hardly been debating those thoughts for a minute when I heard footsteps pounding up the stairs. Oh, joy. Five minutes of peace was all I'd asked for and apparently I couldn't even get that. Screw my life.

The door flew open with an overly dramatic bang but I didn't flinch. Jack stood in the doorway, eyes alight like molten gold. I turned my head lazily to face him, aware of my void expression but ultimately indifferent to it. I couldn't even bring myself to act like the fake version of myself I had made to fool the Winchesters. I felt oddly numb like nothing mattered. Because honestly, what did? Not even getting my revenge on Felix would change anything. Things wouldn't get better, my life would still suck to an astronomical degree, and this whole stupid world would just keep turning like it always did. Getting revenge was just self-indulgence, really. So what if Jack saw the real me for a couple of hours?

With luck, I'd be dead by morning.

With luck, he'd be the one to kill me.

I deserved it.

"Welcome to the year Nineteen-Thirty, puppy. What do you want?" I addressed him. My tone was clipped, calloused, and cold, but I didn't care.

Jack's eyes were glowing and the air was charged with his power; it made my hair stand on end and my ears hurt like when a plane takes off. Yet, oddly enough, if there and been one in my hand, I would have been swirling chocolate milk in a wine glass for all I'd cared.

Jack didn't answer me. His mouth opened and closed and opened and closed. There was something in his eyes, something akin to desperation. He knew what he wanted to say but the words died in his throat.

"You deaf, honey-bug?" I lifted an eyebrow and took an actual glance at his expression. He didn't look angry. He looked...

Terrified.

And shocked.

And torn.

And betrayed.

I did this. It was me. I had hurt him.

His hands clutched an object tightly between them with enough force to turn his knuckles white. It was a picture frame. I caught a glimpse of the picture within; it had been taken two weeks to the day I'd died. I looked back up to his eyes.

Ah, yes. There it was. The recognition. What a clever, clever boy.

He'd finally put all the pieces together.

'Well, good for him.'

"Uh, oh spaghetti-oh's; looks like the Nephil knows," Isaac droned from the foot of my bed.

"What are you?" Jack asked, his voice trembling. He blinked back tears, biting down on his lower lip to keep it from trembling.

I blinked, feeling sick. I didn't want to lose him, I realized. As much as the bitterness inside me tempted me to bite into him and taste his sweet blood or tell him the truth and watch him squirm just for a distraction from the pain, I couldn't. Because then I'd lose him. I didn't want to lose him. I'd already lost Jazzy today for the second time, I couldn't lose Jack too.

Isaac turned to me, his expression as empty as mine. "Ya gonna tell him?"

"I am Miss. Nidsbit," I answered, flatly. It was supposed to sound friendly like I was teasing, but it only came off as evasive. Jack glared at me. It was already happening; I was already losing him. I guess I deserved that much.

"Don't joke," He said.

"I thought it was hilarious," Isaac chimed.

"In that case, I'm bottled-depression." I flashed my teeth in a way that held no joy whatsoever. "Pint-sized for your convenience," I added, trying for a familiar joke about my height. It sounded empty.

"That was better," My brother snickered, leaning back and closing his eyes. He was probably just going to keep making sarcastic jabs in an attempt to vent his anger, so I ignored him.

"I asked you a question," Jack growled in a way that somehow managed to be threatening despite the whole baby-face puppy-eyed thing he had going on. It was actually kinda hot... Wait, what? When had that happened?

"And I answered you." I sat up. Why did I sound so bitter? Why couldn't I change it? My eyes flicked down to Jack's throat without my permission. His skin looked so soft and I realized I was suddenly famished. My throat burned and desire reared its ugly head inside me. Isaac's voice snapped my attention back to reality.

"Oh dear, Marty. You made the Nephil sniffle."

Jack clenched his teeth and hissed, seemingly bothered by the fact that I wasn't afraid of him. He wouldn't hurt me, right? No, he would. He would hurt me if he knew. If he knew what I wanted to do to him. I wanted him to hold me as he had a few days ago but I wanted to sink my teeth into him at the same time. I deserved to die.

"What are you?" He repeated, taking a step forward. He would hurt me. Good.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I replied, my voice inflectionless. Wandering towards my dresser I started fiddling with some meaningless piece of junk. Anything for a distraction from his soft throat and thrumming pulse. Jack's glowing eyes followed me.

"Y-you're lying," He said. He was trying to sound strong, but there was something broken in his tone.

"Ya think?" I deadpanned. Jack swallowed thickly; his hand shot out to grab my wrist, eyes fading back to their soft blue.

"This isn't funny, Marty. Stop." His eyes pleaded with me. I eyed his hand.

"Or what?" I challenged. What would he do to me? He looked me in the eyes, frowning and moving closer to me. He needed to step away. I caught my gaze drifting to his neck again but I couldn't stop.

"I really don't want to hurt you," He said.

'Then don't make me tell you.' I thought. His eyes searched my face for any glimpse of his friend, but that girl had never been real, not really anyway. I had made her up.

I wished I could go back in time. Back to the night we met. We could do it all over again and maybe, if I had another chance, he wouldn't figure it out. Maybe it would've been better if I'd never come with Jack in the first place. I wished we could go back to the night we met. Then I could have said no. If I hadn't come with him, I never would have hurt Jack like this. If he had never touched me then I would never have had to feel this pain. If I could just go back.

"And you won't," I said, taking a chance.

Jack huffed, his expression pained.

"This is freakin' five-star entertainment," Isaac mused, resting his chin on his fist, observing Jack and me.

"Please, Marty," Jack begged in a whisper. His sweet-smelling breath was warm as it washed over my face. His eyes flicked down to my lips but only for a split second. No, no. Anything but that. "Just tell me the truth."

'You already know it.'

"I have," I lied. Everything kept coming out wrong! I sounded emotionless like I didn't care but I did! Jack's soft expression melted into one of betrayal.

"So, you're just going to lie?" He asked. "Right to my face?"

I didn't have control over what slipped from my lips next.

"Says the Devil's kid."

"Ooh! One point to the Marty!" Isaac laughed.

Jack stared at me like he was heartbroken. Then his eyes narrowed into a glare, lighting with gold as he released my wrist and moved his hand to seize my throat. He whirled us around and slammed me into a wall with more force than I'm sure than he intended to use. Not that I couldn't take it. Without so much as a flinch, I tilted my head as much as I could with Jack cutting off my air supply.

"Tell me what you are!" He shouted. There was desperation there.

"That's quite the grip ya got there, puppy," I taunted, rasping. He loosened his grip but only slightly, holding the picture of my family up for me to see, the corner was dated January 8th, 2014.

"You said they died five years ago. This picture- it was taken five years ago! You said you were nine then! But y-you - you weren't!" Jack's eyes were wide, almost crazed as he glanced from the girl in the picture and back to me. He knew the truth; he just didn't want to believe it. His voice softened. "You haven't aged a day. Five years and you haven't aged a day."

My voice was soft and it wasn't just from the lack of air. "I aged about a month, actually."

Jack let go of my throat like I was burning him, shaking his head as he backed away like a frightened animal. As well he should. He was the prey here and I did want to kill him. But I wanted him to hold me again even more. "Y-you're one of them..." He whispered.

'Don't leave me. I'm sorry, just don't leave me!' I thought desperately, but that wasn't what came out. I felt trapped in my own skin, the monster inside me taking over, fed by my own bitterness.

"I'd say something along the lines of 'say it out loud' but I'm pretty sure that would have copywrite issues," I said, shrugging and moving back to sit on my bed. Jack watched me carefully.

"Felix - h-he turned you. He made you just like him - a vampire... You're a monster!" He spat the word like it was snake-venom.

And it hurt. It hurt so freaking bad. It was like I had lodged a knife in my own chest years ago and now Jack was twisting it.

'I know I am.' I wanted to say.

"Well that's a harsh way of putting it. But I've been called worse." I brushed it off like I didn't care like it wasn't that deep like I wasn't  bleeding  to tell him how sorry I was. I lowered my head in shame.

"I-I have to tell Sam and Dean," Jack said, shifting onto the balls of his feet, edging towards the door. He was going to make a run for it. Suddenly, I was in control of my body again.

I couldn't let him. I needed more time. I needed to beat Felix first and then they could all find out. I had to fix this. I could still fix this.

I had made Jack forget once.

I could do it again.

I would take us back in time. Before he knew. Make everything right. Take us back to the night we met.

He had to forget.

"I can't let you do that," I spoke softly, my gaze still focused on my feet.

"Are you going to try to kill me?" He asked accusingly.

"No." I shook my head. No, I could never kill him. I was too selfish for that. He deserved someone so much better than me. But I loved him.

"Then what are you going to do?" Jack shifted closer to the exit.

"Isaac," I glanced at my brother out of the corner of my eye. Jack stiffened, his eyes snapping to where mine went. "Get the door."

"On it!" Isaac said, overly eager. Jack bolted but he was too slow. My brother flicked his wrist and the door swung closed with a click. Jack swallowed thickly and glanced back to me, fear filling his features. I knew what he was going to try next.

'This is necessary. One day I'll be sorry.'

"His wings," I said to Isaac, my voice breaking. Isaac grinned widely and reached out, making a pinching motion. Jack froze in a panic, then he clenched his eyes shut groaning as Isaac twisted his hands just a bit.

"Can I rip 'em off?" He asked, basking in the Nephilim's pain.

"Isaac, no!"

"Oh, come on," He twisted his hands even more and Jack cried out, his innocent face twisting in agony. "Just a little?"

"Stop! Just-" I sighed. "Please, don't hurt him, Isaac. Just keep him still, please."

Isaac rolled his eyes. "Oh, fine!" He let go and Jack fell to the ground, panting and shaking. He did his best to get to his feet but Isaac flung him into a wall, pinning him there. "Go ahead and Obliviate the simp."

I stood and stepped towards Jack, slowly and carefully, trying not to scare him any more than I had. I could tell he was trying desperately to move but Isaac was too strong.

"What are you going to do?" Jack demanded, trying to hide the fear in his voice. "Are you going to drink my blood?!"

I froze.

Because I could. Then, I could make him forget.

I glanced at his throat. My fangs ached to come out - to bite.  I could imagine what it might feel like to bury my teeth in that soft, delicious-smelling skin. I could imagine what he might taste like. He'd be sweet like candy. I could be gentle! Maybe if he could somehow understand how badly I needed him then he'd let me. And he heals fast so he'd be okay.

But he wouldn't understand. And I wanted him to hold me again.

I just wanted Jack to hold me again.

"No," I said. I plucked the picture frame from his hands, gazing at the smiles of my family for a moment. I looked up, trying to smile despite the ache of grief and guilt in my chest. "I'm going to need you to forget this."

"I wish I could," Jack said, glaring at the floor. He couldn't even look at me. He couldn't even look.

I nodded. "You will."

"W-what?"

I sighed and moved over to the window. The crisp breeze blew in from the sea as I threw it open, the curtains billowing like vicious barking dogs on a leash. It was a long way down to the black rocks where the land met the ocean. I dropped the picture and watched it tumble until it smashed into the rocks, shattering that perfect picture frame, shattering my picture-perfect family into a million pieces.

"I can make you forget," I told him, over my shoulder. "Take us back to the night we met." The power inside me trilled with excitement; it wanted Jack, it craved him. Or maybe that was just the monster I was, begging to be unleashed. I turned away from the window, closing it as I did.

"What do you mean?" He asked cautiously. He was scared. He was  so  scared.

"I'm going to talk to you, and then you're going to forget, and everything will be back to the way it was." I would fix this. His arms would be around me as soon as I fixed this and everything would be okay. I hung my head and let the power inside me launch forward and wrap itself like chains around my Nephilim. I could feel his light, his grace, fighting back but it had nothing substantial to fight. My power wasn't physical, I just imagined it being so.

"No! W-wait!" Jack watched me with dread, beginning to feel the effects of what I was doing to him. I was locking his memories away, locking him up in his own head. But I had to. Because he wouldn't understand and I needed him.

"I have to do this," I whispered, digging my mental claws in deeper.

"Stop," He gasped, beginning to tremble with effort, "Whatever you're doing, just stop!"

"I can't stop, Jack. I'm sorry, but I just need a little more time," I said, gently. "Four moves and I win."

"Four moves..." He mumbled to himself, his brows furrowing, "Four moves? I-I've heard that before. Where have I heard that before?" Then he groaned and squeezed his eyes shut again.

"Please, just forget. I need you to forget."

'I need you to hold me again.'

"Get out of my head!" Jack's voice rose with panic. He flinched away from me as much as he could but Isaac kept him pinned and helpless.

"I'm gonna make everything okay again. I promise." I fought harder against him, willing my power to work faster. Jack moaned and I glanced up to see his face contorted with pain.

"Please!" He begged me, grimacing, "Please, stop! Marty, please. It hurts." I tried harder, and a choked sob escaped his throat. "Marty, please! It hurts! It hurts! You have to stop! Please!"

"I wish you hadn't found out, Jack, and one day I'll be sorry about this."

"Wait. Wait, no!"

I pushed my power harder than I ever had before.

A horrifying scream of pure agony ripped from Jack's throat. But the walls of this house were built to withstand hurricanes. I was the only one who could hear him. With one last burst of effort, I overpowered the walls of his grace and my power flooded his mind, wiping away any memories of what I was. His scream faltered into groans and those softened into whimpers and Jack's body went limp.

Isaac let go and the Nephilim collapsed but I caught him before his head hit the floor. Carding my fingers through his hair, I pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. Picking him up, I carried him to my bed and laid him there. He weighed more than I did, obviously, but he didn't feel very heavy to me. I laid down beside him, hugging him around the middle and pressing my face into his chest.

Then I finally cried.

"I hope you can forgive me before I'm sorry. Because I'm a liar and don't think I'll ever really regret this."

***

"You hear something?" Sam asked, perking up. Castiel sat dutifully on a large black bolder, watching the house. The angel flicked his eyes to Sam and gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head before focusing back on the house.

"Hm? Uh, no." Dean hardly spared a glance. He was too busy drawing inappropriate words in the sand with his foot. Sam frowned.

"Weird." He shook his head, swallowing thickly as he paced back and forth across the moonlit sand.

"Martina threw a picture frame from her window and it shattered against the rocks approximately sixty-two feet south-east of where you are standing," Castiel informed him, "Perhaps that's what you heard."

Sam shook his head again, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"No, no. It, uh, it wasn't that. I just- I-I coulda' sworn I heard someone..." He trailed off. 'Scream,' He wanted to say. The sound had been like a phantom pain; intense yet insubstantial.

'Just like the visions...' Sam thought. But no. That wasn't possible. He hadn't had a vision or any manifestation of psychic abilities for going on twelve years! He was probably just imagining things. Sam pushed the thought away as soon as it had come. It was impossible... Right?

Yet still, his eyes wandered to the window on the upstairs floor of the dark house; the only window with a slim shaft of light peaking through the curtains. Because what if...

No .

No. Everything was fine, Jack would have alerted them if there was any danger - or at least - the brothers and their angel would've been able to see if Jack thought there was any danger. Judging by the lack of explosions, Sam could assume that everything was fine.

There was no trap here after all. Although, if he thought about it, that may have been the trap in itself. That monster called Felix had lured Marty back here to relive the most painful day of her life. There had been no vamps waiting to do her any physical harm, but Felix didn't need them to. He just wanted that poor, sweet, little girl to hurt.

And, boy was she hurting.

Sam knew how it felt to lose a brother. He knew how it felt to watch his brother die twice. Hell! Sam had watched Dean die more than one hundred times on the one hundred worst Tuesdays of his life. It had made him feel empty inside - hollow. Like somebody had scraped out everything inside of him, the good and the bad, and had left an utter nothingness in its place. And in the face of all that nothing, fear had gripped Sam's heart like a vice. Fear of that emptiness - of all the unspeakable things it made him willing to do. Sam had been willing - eager even - to do whatever it took if it meant filling that awful hole inside of him.

That was what scared him. It was that ruthlessness. It was that titanium will he'd always shied away from. It was when he'd looked into a mirror and seen John Winchester staring back at him. Deep down, that was what both Sam and Dean had always feared the most. Becoming their father. Becoming the shell of a man that had raised them.

Sam could see the beginnings of a similar shell-forming in Martina. He had seen it when they'd rescued her from that shed the week before. Her shell wasn't made of hate like John's had been - not completely at least. Marty's shell had come from grief and fear. She was just trying to hide; both from Felix and from the shell of a person that she was becoming. Jack had told Sam about Marty's memory gaps - about how she couldn't remember what had happened in the shed after she had left. Sam knew that traumatized people tend to blot things out, it was common. But things like the shed and her return to her childhood home could only serve to send Marty further into her shell.

And the last thing the world needed was another John Winchester.

"These kids were livin' a dream, aye Sammy?"

Sam frowned as Dean's mumbled words knocked him from his train of thought. "H-how do you mean?"

"I mean, look! They had everything!" He said, gesturing from the white sand of the beach to the black rocks to the brine woods. His tone and expression grew sober. "Just like a little fairy-tale. And, I mean, three psychics? Those kids - they had a lotta' potential. So smart and talented and now..." Dean trailed off with a frown.

"Yeah..." Sam quietly agreed. Dean turned to his brother with a pensive expression.

"Got me thinkin', maybe-" He sighed. It was hard for him to say and he didn't want to say it. Even though Dean knew that Marty was capable of more than she seemed and that she could affect his emotions, he didn't really care.

Well, he did  care . Dean hated people screwing with his head or his feelings, period. But somehow Marty was different. He didn't really care to admit it, but Dean had always wanted a daughter. A sweet soul he could love and care for but definitely, with a badass side, he could bestow his knowledge upon. Claire was a close as he had gotten but she had already grown up and she didn't want his help. To Claire, Dean was only a painful reminder of all she'd lost.

And, of course, there was Emma.

But Dean didn't like to think about her.

Thinking about Emma was too painful.

But Marty was still young, and she didn't see Dean the way Clair did. Marty looked at Dean with hope in her eyes and he desperately wanted to keep it that way.

Jack had used to look at him that way. Jack didn't look at him like that anymore.

Because Dean had messed up with Jack. He could admit that now. He'd messed up and he'd messed up bad. Things had gotten better between them; little by little over time. But Jack hadn't even been five days old when Dean had promised to take his life. After that, Jack had only watched Dean with fear. Not hope. Just sheer friggin' terror on his face whenever the elder Winchester walked into the room. And though things had gotten better, they'd always have that promise between them.

That promise from the night when if Dean had only been a better person he could have made things better and not worse like he always did. (Because he was always making things worse. Always too selfish. Always screwing things up. Always getting people hurt. It was always him, always his fault.) Dean could've snatched that knife from Jack's hands and told him it was going to be alright even if it didn't seem like it would be. And Dean could've given the kid the kind of hug he should've been given the day he was born; a father's hug, just like Castiel would have given him if he'd been alive to do it. Because that was Cas's son. That was Cas's kid! Oh, God... Cas... How could Dean have let his best friend down so horribly? Cas, who had given everything up for him and his brother. Cas had saved them time and time again at his own expense. Cas, who would bleed every drop of blood he had with a smile on his face, all in the name of the Winchesters. How could Dean have betrayed him like that? It wasn't enough for Dean to just let the angel die!  (It was Dean's fault, of course. It always was. How couldn't it be? He could have prevented it. If he'd just been a little faster or a little smarter.) No, he had to go and tear that innocent kid to pieces just cause he was sad. (So, selfish. How could he be so selfish? Why was he always so selfish?) Cas had trusted Dean with his son and Dean had repaid him with the promise to take Jack's life. No wonder Jack still could hardly bear to look Dean in the eyes. How could he? Dean wasn't meant to be a father to anyone. He was too frickin' selfish for that.

But this time, things would be different. This time around, Dean would be different - he would be better. For once in his life, he would be selfless and he'd do the right thing even if it possibly meant giving up his only chance to raise a little girl. Because, despite being tainted by darkness and tears, there was still so much good inside Martina Linville. She had so much potential, with the right chances, she could grow up to be great. But she would need those right chances and she wouldn't get them if she stayed with the Winchester's broken little family. All they brought to people was tears and death.

Dean didn't want that for her. She deserved better. Just like Dean himself and his brother had deserved better. She deserved to live a life free from all this pain - a good life, a happy life. Dean wanted that for her. Dean just wanted to help. That was all he'd ever wanted. The last thing Marty needed was more darkness in her life. She didn't need them in her life.

She didn't need him in her life.

So, Dean would be selfless and he would let her go and he would give her the chance to shine like the stars she loved so much. It was probably the most fatherly thing he could do for her. 'Cause Dean just wasn't cut out to be a Dad.

But, oh, did he wish he could be one. Even though he knew that Marty's empathic abilities were probably what was making him feel so strongly about her, Dean couldn't help but go along with it. It wasn't like she was stuffing thoughts in his head; his feelings may have been bolstered but Dean's mind was his own. Dean had always wanted a daughter, Marty hadn't made that up that wish, she'd just reminded him of it. He felt awful about how he had treated Jack and craved a chance at redemption for his mistakes; Dean had made those choices, all Marty had done was exist to give him a chance. Sure, she was rioting his emotions. But what did that matter? Because Dean wanted this and damn it! This felt real!

But he couldn't have it.

Because Dean, and his brother, and their angel, and - yes - even Jack -- it was all some sick, screwed up, god damn beautiful tragedy -- But they were the last thing Martina Linville needed.

So, Dean would be selfless.

"Thinkin' about what?" Sam's question shook Dean from his reverie and back to what he'd been meaning to say.

"Maybe we should put her into the system after all this," He said, thoughtfully, though there was regret in his tone also. Sam blinked twice, shaking his head.

"W-what? The system? You mean the foster system?" He asked, incredulously.

"Yeah? Something wrong with that?" Dean responded. Sam gaped at him.

"Is something wrong with that? Dean, everything is wrong with that!" He exclaimed. Dean opened his mouth to argue but Sam didn't let him. "We made Marty a promise! Just this morning you said she was part of the family. Was all that just talk?"

"No, but-"

"Then what the Hell was it, Dean? Because you can't just go back on something like that! We said we'd take care of her," Sam huffed, crossing his arms and glaring at his older brother.

"And that's exactly what we'd be doing," Dean argued, "Giving her a place that's safe."

"Who would take her in? She's fourteen and she's got more trauma than some war veterans, I don't-"

"Exactly!" Dean cut him off. "The kid's got issues! She needs help, the professional kind."

"Since when do you promote therapy? Sam scoffed.

"When it doesn't involve me," Dean grumbled. Sam shook his head, getting back to the point.

"Throwing her on a bunch of strangers with no clue what she's been through, and who couldn't possibly understand her even if they knew, isn't going to help her! She'd get tossed around or thrown into some group therapy home till she's eighteen and then they'd dump her back on the streets where we found her! How is that taking care of her?"

"It's getting her out of this life, Sam," Dean said firmly. Sam glared.

"You mean getting her out of your life," The younger brother spat lowly.

"What did you just say?" Dean asked dangerously.

"You heard me."

"You have somethin' ya wanna say to my face, Sammy?" Dean growled.

"Dean," Castiel said his name like a warning, his hand gripping Dean's shoulder, holding him back.

"Yeah, I do." Sam's nostrils flared and his mouth was pressed into a thin line. "I'm not gonna stand by and watch you do this again."

"Do what again?" Dean questioned, Cas' hand on his shoulder reminding him to keep calm.

"This thing you do. Anytime a kid comes along, you do this. You act all annoyed, then right as you start liking having 'em around something happens and you realize the responsibility and it freaks you out so you back off and you push 'em away."

"I don't do that," Dean said, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah? 'Cause you did it with Kevin, you did it with Claire, you did it with Jack, and now you're doing it again right now with Marty. The second things get real, you get scared and you run away." Sam kept eye contact with Dean, challenging him to look away. Dean clenched his teeth, his pride preventing him from losing the contest of wills.

"Quit fooling yourself, Sam. Look at me!" Dean's voice broke just a little. But he cleared his throat, quick to cover his mistake. "Er, at us, I mean. We can't raise a kid!" He protested.

"We raised Jack," Sam countered.

"Because there were  literally no better alternatives!" Dean seethed. Sam opened his mouth but Dean wasn't done. Hyperaware of Castiel's presence just behind him, guilt ate at his heart. But Dean had never been very good at apologies. "And I even screwed that up! I'm not Dad material, Sam. I'm just not!"

His outburst of emotion made Sam blink, rendering him momentarily speechless. He could have spoken his next words gently but pride made them come out like acid.

"I don't think that's what Ben thought," He hissed. Sam knew it was a low-blow bringing up Ben. That wound was still sore.

"Yeah?" Dean laughed but there was no humor in it. "WELL LOOK HOW THAT TURNED OUT!" He yelled. Sam tensed but didn't back off.

"Something isn't real because it lasts, Dean," Sam said, speaking just a little bit gentler now. "For however short a time, Ben had a dad that loved and cared about him. For however short a time, you made him happy. You say you're not dad material, but that's not what I saw. If that's what you're so worried about, then don't be. 'Cause you made an pretty awesome dad, Dean, even if Ben doesn't remember."

Dean sighed in defeat. "We have nothing to give her, Sam."

"We have trust and understanding, a-and that's more than some random foster home could give her."

Dean shook his head. "It doesn't have to be random."

"What do mean?"

"Jody," He suggested, "I mean, she's already got Claire and Alex. What's one more?"

Sam sighed through his nose, shaking his head. "Yeah, she's got Claire and Alex-" He paused giving his older brother a pointed look. "-  And Patience and Kaia. What's one more? That's only five emotionally unstable teenage girls to take care of, on top of a full time job as a sheriff, and hunting to worry about too."

"I agree with Sam," Castiel spoke up, "We cannot simply dump yet another troubled youth onto the already burdened shoulders of Sheriff Mills." Sam gestured to the angel as if accentuate his point.

"But at least she'd be safe," Dean argued, pursing his lips into a thin line.

"From monsters, sure," Sam agreed, nodding. Dean could sense a ' but ' coming. "But not from herself."

"Jody could help Marty just as much as we could - probably more!" He said. Dean could hear Sam grind his teeth in frustration, but Cas held up a hand to speak.

"I don't think that's true, Dean."

"Why not?" Dean asked the angel.

"'Why not?' Haven't you been listening?" Sam exclaimed. Cas shot the younger Winchester a look and he fell silent.

"I am sure Sheriff Mills is a competent and kind woman; however, Martina does not know or trust her. Sending her to live there would only be marginally better than shipping her off to a stranger," The angel stated, evenly.

"What's that gotta do with what Sam said?" Dean asked. Cas gave him a long-suffering look but continued in perfect patience.

"As weary as I am of Martina's true motives and intentions, I think it is plenty clear the choice she faces after the termination of her family's killer. That is, if she has not made her decision already."

Dean's face scrunched with confusion. "What choice is that?"

"The choice of continuing to live free from the threat of Felix Monroe, or..." The angel trailed off, frowning. His tone made Dean feel like there was a knot in his chest.

"Or what?" He pressed, cautiously. Cas sighed.

"Or to end her life and return to her family," Cas finished, soberly.

Dean was stunned. He hadn't thought- He had never realized.

"Wait, whoa. Are you telling me Marty wants to commit suicide?" His eyes were wide with fear and alarm. She was too young for that. Too young to want to kill herself. No. She couldn't. Dean wouldn't let that happen. "Where's this coming from?" He demanded. Sam glared at him.

"She told her little brother she'd be with him soon. Combine that with the scars on her wrists, and it's really not that hard to figure out," He said, coolly.

Scars? Dean understood now. That was why she was always wearing long sleeves, even in the sweltering heat of Florida. Sam took advantage of his older brother's silence.

"Think about it, Dean," He pushed, "Sending her away from first people she's allowed herself to get attached to in five years? You think that will help?"

The thought made Dean reconsider but Sam had more to say.

"A-and think of Jack! You've seen how much he cares about her. I've seen him smile more in these last two and a half weeks than he did in the five months since we got him back from Apocalypse World. What do you think would happen if he found Marty laying in a pool of her own blood? What do you think that would do to him?"

"It would kill him." Dean sighed, nodding in agreement and Sam cracked a smile.

"I mean, we both know he loves her, Dean. And I-I don't mean like a sister," The younger brother said, fondly. Dean chuckled and the tension in the air cleared.

"Yeah, there's definitely a thing there." He shook his head, grinning. "I mean, it's totally weird but it's a thing." Sam nodded and shrugged.

"Well, I dated a demon. I don't think I can judge."

"You can say that again!" Dean laughed.

The sudden chime of a phone ringing cut through the cool nighttime air like a knife and Dean reached to answer. The smile dropped from his face as soon as he caught a glance at the screen.

"Who is it?" Castiel asked.

"Blocked," Dean answered, apprehension filling his voice, "Three guesses as to who." He mumbled, sliding a finger across the screen to pick up the call and putting it on speaker.

"This is Dean Winchester," He announced as the line connected.

There was no voice on the other side of the call.

"Hello?" He tried again.

Again nothing.

Dean could hear someone breathing but they didn't speak. The breaths sounded ragged and uneven like the person was out of breath. There was background noise as well, a deep rumbling that seemed to increase in volume as time wore on. Without warning, the sound of a deep bellowing horn blared from the phone's speaker. It was the sort of horn that typically accompanies a low rumbling noise. It was the sort of horn that accompanies a really, really big train. The sound of the horn grew louder but soon began to fade as the train passed by whoever had been holding the phone. Something told him this wasn't a simple case of a butt-dial. The situation unnerved for some reason he couldn't name. It was like a scene from a movie.

"Tell me who you are or I'm hanging up," Dean said, his voice demanding.

"I-I would'nt d-do that if I were y-you!"  A desperate, ragged voice called from the phone. Dean had gotten it wrong. The person on the phone wasn't Felix. The person on the phone was a little girl and she wasn't out of breath. She was terrified.

"Why not?" He asked, cautiously.

"B-because little Pamala o-only get's this one c-call." The voice on the other end sounded oddly robotic despite the words being broken into syllables by the girl's sobs.

"What do you mean?" He wondered.

"She-she's lu-ucky you picked u-up. If you hadn't I'd have t-old my friends to e-eat swe-eet Pammy here! Sh-she's seven, just so you know!"  The little girl choked out.

"Felix," Dean growled, "You're using the little girl to talk for you?"

"Pamala is a c-cute little pup-pet. But she's a-annoy-ing. If she d-doesn't stop s-stutter-ing, I'll tell one of my f-friends to t-ake a bite!"  The little girl whimpered and took a deep breath, trying to steady her voice for the sake of her life. " So, what shall I make Panama say next?"

Dean gritted his teeth together. To his right, Sam looked like he was going to be sick. But this wasn't just sick, this was downright  vile . On his left, Cas looked about ready to rip that monster apart with his bare hands.

"Why don't you talk to me with your own voice, Nessie? Ya scared?" Dean taunted.

"No. That would ruin the fun of the game." The girl spoke slowly, trying her best to stay calm.

"What game?" Castiel demanded, sounding a step away from livid.

"You hunters and your angel have thirty minutes to come and rescue poor, little Pamala. When time is up, I'll tell my friends to- to r-rip her in- into itty-bitty pieces!" The girl let out a panicked sob after finishing the monster's words.

"How are we supposed to do that?" Dean demanded, fuming. "She could be anywhere!"

"No, not anywhere, Dean. She's sitting all wrapped up in the attic of the Florida East Coast Railway Station at Fort Pierce. I might be there with her too, gives you a chance to catch me just to make things interesting. But you better hurry, I hear t-traffic can be a biatch."

"You're gonna pay for this, you son of a bitch!" Dean growled.

"Watch the language, Dean Winchester. There are children present. You don't wanna spoil little Pamala's innocence, do you?"

Dean was so enraged, he couldn't even speak. Luckily, Sam was thinking the same as he was.

"We're gonna kill you," Sam promised.

"Perhaps. But not before I show y-you the truth."

The truth? What truth?

"This call will end in...

Five...

Four..."

"Stay strong, sweetheart!" Dean called to the little girl on the other side of the phone. "We're gonna come help you!"

"Three...

Two...

One...

...

...

...

Please save me...

...

...

...

I don't wanna die..."

Then the line clicked and the call was over.

Dean clenched his jaw and put the phone away.

"Let's go gank that sick bastard."

~I am not the only traveler

And then I can tell myself

I had all and then most of you

When the night was full of terrors

Lyrics from: The Night We Met by Lord Huron

I had all and then most of you

[denqis]

your heart was beating out of your chest, ears filled with white noise. you had lost track of where you were and of how long you had been running after that lanky villain. all you knew was that it was starting to get dark and that you had lost bakugou as well as kirishima.

your steps slowed down as your breath hitched when you noticed movement from the corner of your eyes. this time he wouldn't get away.

you quickly gathered your last strength to summon a gust of wind that carried you over the treetops towards the source of movement.

you started feeling dizzy the higher you got, but ignored it. this wasn't a simple training anymore, you needed to make sure that he'd pay for everything he did to you, kirishima, mina and shiro back in middle school.

he was the reason you were in isolation for years, he was the reason yours and kirishima's friendship ended and he was the reason for shiro's death.

you let your body drop bit by bit until you were at close enough range for another attack.

hail the size of basketballs started dropping around him and right when you initiated the last attack a glimpse of red rushed to the scene and pinned the villain to the ground.

you didn't know wether to scream or cry or do both. you were happy that this was finally over but you hated the fact that kirishima had stolen your limelight.

"nice work."

he sent you a glance along with an approving nod, causing you to scoff.

"don't be ridiculous, you know i did most of the work."

"still young and in love, i see. did the death of your friend teach you nothing? kirishima i wouldn't trust her, she killed your best friend."

you noticed his hardened form slowly return to normal, his body slacking. you saw his jaw clench and his eyes starting to water. he was at his absolute limit, emotionally as well as physically.

"why are you in love with a psychopath when clearly ashido loves you much more. she's a perfect fit, she helped you through the death and conviction. she was the only friend there for you all this time, yet you're choosing a murderer over her? pathetic."

kirishima's grip loosened as his head began hanging lower and lower, tears already hitting the floor.

"kirishima don't listen to him! he's lying, he's been lying all this time, please!"

your voice was coarse and squeaky but you had to get him out of the villain's grip before it was too late.

"no.. y/n. he's right."

his empty eyes stared at you and for a split second the boy before you was the same person he was three years ago.

the same boy you were walking along the train tracks with three years ago. he didn't want to go there, but you, mina and shiro had convinced him to come. it wasn't supposed to be dangerous, it was an abandoned track surrounded by the woods.

while mina and shiro went skipping across the trails kirishima had grabbed your hand and stared right into your eyes. he said that he felt that something was going to go wrong, that he felt that you were being followed.

"stop being such a coward eiji, come on. i bet shiro wouldn't act like that!"

you ran after your friends, leaving the black-haired boy behind, who suddenly felt so alone, so used. you did like shiro after all, not him. he slowly started following you further into the woods, reaching a bridge. the water in the creek was the only sound in the air, even the birds had stopped chirping when mina's terrified, bone-shattering screams echoed throughout the woods.

a villain had appeared, lanky figure slouched over shiro's body, mina and you casted aside, trembling in fear.

"eiji! get help!"

you cried, arms clenching around mina until the villain suddenly stood up straight, staring at your shaking body.

"oh, i sense young, innocent love. he means so much to you, he's more than a friend right? why don't you show him how much he means to you? he's the only boy who should be in your life."

the life left your eyes and you stood up and went over to shiro, mina and kirishima watching, frozen in shock.

you saw shiro's terrified gaze on you, his rustling breath and trembling lower lip, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. you felt sick, you didn't want to do this, he was your best friend.

you didn't understand what was happening, it felt as though you were sleepwalking as you lifted a hand, surrounded by the water you had lifted from the humid air.

"go on, sweetheart. it's not that hard. you should be exclusive to.. what did you call him again? eiji. you wouldn't want your selfish love to destroy your friendship, this is the only way."

you felt the pit in your stomach, the way your heart sank and tears dropped onto shiro's face. you wanted to apologize, say how much he meant to you, that he was the best friend you ever had but all you did was chuckle and press your hand onto his mouth and nose, restricting his airways.

he struggled, hands clawing at your back, his orange eyes staring up at you with such agony.

"y/n!"

mina ripped you from your trance, causing you to fall forward, coming face to face with your best friends white, lifeless face.

"shiro? shiro! answer me, please. hey, answer me!"

you crouched next to him, holding his hand and caressing his cheek, tears and snot running down your face before you collapsed onto his cold chest that no longer hosted the heartbeat that had calmed you down so many times.

mina and kirishima sat a few meters away, staring at their two friends, confused and traumatized.

you couldn't let this happen again, you couldn't let the same villain destroy everything you had worked so hard for in isolation again.

"kirishima. listen to me! listen to my voice, please. i'm begging you, just listen. i'll guide you. it's his quirk, he infiltrates your mind and body and makes you do things for him, kirishima, please!"

your tears were spilling over, running down your cheeks along with the rain that poured down over your head.

"eiji.. eiji!"

you screamed, voice breaking along with your tough, invincible facade that you had built and kept up during the last three years of your life.

"y/n, the real you is finally back! you're weak, you killed that poor boy to have kirishima all to yourself. that's right, you're a selfish slut, nothing more! you deserve to die a slow, painful death just like shiro!"

he kept going but his voice faded as your eyes focused on kirishima, who was still kneeling on top of the villain, keeping him to the floor.

"eiji, hey. listen to me! we can get through this. just think about all the people you love, who are worth fighting for. your family, mina, bakugou, all our classmates. do it for them. i know you can't trust me anymore after everything that's happened, but please do it for them."

silence followed.

until you suddenly heard an all too familiar chuckle and when you looked up again, there he was. kirishima in all of his hardened glory.

"you forgot the most important person i should fight for. you."

but before you could respond you felt a sudden heaviness wash over you as your body plummeted to the floor, your mind clouded in darkness.

HISTORY — a kirishima eijirou social media au

synopsis: y/n and kirishima have been friends since kindergarten up until their last year of middle school. unfortunate events started piling up and their strained relationship ended in a catastrophe.

warnings: mentions of drugs, depression, suicidal thoughts and death

masterlist

part seven < part eight > part nine

taglist: @ochabby @yeet-these-hoez @sweethyunjin17

[madness-curin-sadness]

A Killing Eve theory.

"It was Eve who killed Kenny"

It makes sense, everyone knows that Eve was the only one who was around Kenny when he died. Eve saw his body drop from the roof. She found his dead body on the pavement. - Eve could have already been at the office with Kenny sitting on the roof top.

Eve gets a birthday cake. Upset and fearful Eve brings the birthday cake up to the roof. Eve realizes because it is a bus themed birthday cake it is from Villanelle. Eve gets mad and impulsively throws the cake off of the roof, she instantly reaches for the cake at the same time, but it is too late, the cake splats on the ground. - At first we see Eve staring at the cake that is set on top of a office chair. One of the office chairs is fumbled over upside down next to a puddle of water. Eve and Kenny could of been sitting in those two chairs. Perhaps there was a altercation with Eve and Kenny resulting in Eve pushing Kenny off of the roof. That is why we see Eve reach after the cake immediately after she throws the cake off the roof. She regrets throwing the cake away or she regrets pushing Kenny off the roof. Hmm idk?

Eve arives at the office. She can not find Kenny so she calls him. Eve sees that Kenny left his phone on his desk and Kenny falls off the roof in the background.- Why would Kenny leave his phone on his desk? Most importantly why would the assassin or killer leave Kenny's phone on his desk? By the way, the desk where Eve finds Kenny's phone when she calls him was not left on Kenny's desk. Well maybe they just wanted to get the window background shot, so that's why Kenny's phone was left there.

Eve starts drinking heavily to cope with Kenny's death. - A drinking mechanism it is not okay but it is pretty reasonable, especially after seeing a close friend die. We see Eve standing outside drunk and smoking in the rain by herself at Kenny's memorial service. - We originally think Eve is just sad about Kenny's death. Then we see Eve acting like a hot mess at the memorial service, pushing the idea that Kenny did not commit suicide. We then believe Eve thinks Kenny's death was The Twelve's doing. We know Kenny, he wouldn't commit suicide, that is why we believe Eve.

We see Eve later at a bar drinking with Kenny's phone. I first thought, "omg she has Kenny's phone.. Yes she can find out who killed him". The only time we question why Eve has Kenny's phone is when Eve is with Jamie and Bear at the office. Jamie is questioning Eve's motives about not giving up Kenny's phone to them. Jamie purposely moves the conversation towards Eve personally. Eve says, "... see this isn't about me." And then Jamie says, "see that is where I think you're wrong, if this all wasn't about you, you wouldn't be keeping the phone." It is there where we assume, "yes Kenny's death and his information on his phone is linked to Eve and The Twelve.", so yes this all is about Eve. But what if Eve simply kept Kenny's phone because she was the one who accidentally killed him and there is too much information on his phone that connects Eve to Kenny?

Eve killed Kenny and she doesn't remember doing it. - What if Eve actually killed Kenny? Eve has been showcased in the show many times zoning out, losing track of time, doing odd things agressivly without thinking, and talking to herself. Something to think about; Eve was depressed over Villanelle shooting her, she was sad about Kenny's death, Eve kissed Villanelle and headbutted her, Eve was heartbroken seeing Niko nearly get killed, but then Niko lived and now she is energized to find out who did it. At first it did not make sense to why Eve's character kept switching up emotionally, but this might be why. Bair with me.

Eve tracks down Dasha and tries to kill her. - While bowling Dasha mocks Eve's relationship with Villanelle. Dasha threatens Eve, Eve does not back down nor does she get scared. Instead Eve believes it was Dasha who tried to kill Niko and that Dasha tried to frame it on Villanelle. That possibility upsets Eve, Eve gets fired up, and she wants to find Villanelle. In the process of finding Villanelle she stumbles upon Dasha who is almost dead on the ground via the hands of Villanelle. Eve checks on Dasha worriedly at first thinking Dasha is dead. Dasha is not dead, Eve ask, "where is she?" refering to Villanelle. Then Dasha speaks up and she mocks Niko's "Stalin" like mustache. Thus confirming that it was Dasha who tried to kill Niko. That switches something in Eve, Dark Eve, and Eve tries to kill Dasha by stepping on Dasha's sternum slowly. Eve had that crazy look in her eye, the same one Villanelle gets when she kills. But Eve snaps out of it, Eve stops what she is doing and takes off when she hears police sirens. The way Eve moods and actions keeps switching up so fast make me feeling like Eve is suffering from some sort of personality disorder.

Carolyn finds out who killed Kenny in ep. 8. - In one of the promo trailers to KE S3x08 we see Caroyln sat at a computer. She says, "oh my." It seems Carolyn has finally seen the information on Kenny's death that Mo found and was going to show her. Carolyn does not seem mad but kind of shocked and worried. This is where I can see Eve being the one who killed Kenny. Carolyn does not usually have a huge reaction to news but at this point I'd imagine she would. The only way Carolyn would react like that would be if Kenny did kill himself or if it was Eve.

Villanelle and Eve are the same. If all of this ended up being true it would mean that Villanelle and Eve are both at points in their lives where they regret killing someone close to them. Villanelle does not want to kill anymore because killing her mom has scarred her. Eve accidentally killed Kenny, Eve nearly killed off Dasha, Eve is spiralling out and she knows it. So Eve turns to Villanelle because she wants to see Villanelle but also because Eve needs help. This is all while Villanelle and Eve have very strong feelings for each other. This outcome would be crazy. But I mean we already love an unstable couple so it wouldn't matter lol.

"Idk how much I believe this theory. I mean I would not be suprised if it ended happening. However, it does not look like this will be the ending outcome, so I do not bet on it. Because Eve loved Kenny, why would she accidentally kill Kenny and how would she do it without realizing? I just don't see it. It was obviously The Twelve who killed Kenny. It was probably that other assassin woman Rhina who hangs around Héléne. Like why else would that woman kill Mo? Anyways, yeah it's just fun to theorize about the this amazing show."

[alj4890]

Chapter 24 Under Pressure

The Royal Romance Fan Fiction (Liam x MC*Riley) (Maxwell x OC*Amanda) (Drake x Olivia) (Hana x Rashad)

These characters are from the amazing writers of Pixelberry's Choices stories: The Royal Romance and Red Carpet Diaries. The only character of my own is Duchess Amanda Bridgerton of House St Orella. 

Masterlist of The Other Friend TRR

Chapter 24 summary: Liam talks privately with Riley. Maxwell struggles with keeping a sad demeanor. Decisions have to made.

Chapter 24

Maxwell was filling two plates with food from the dining room table when Drake walked up.

"I've got two words for you. Plan. B."

Maxwell shot him a glare. Drake nodded. "You were smiling like you were auditioning for the Joker. We have no idea who is watching. Maybe you shouldn't see Amanda today."

Maxwell gritted his teeth in frustration. "I've got it, Drake. Maybe I was smiling because we have strawberry muffins instead of boring blueberry. You ever think of that?"

Drake rolled his eyes. "Forgive me. I forgot what a connoisseur of muffins you are."

Maxwell made his way back to Amanda's room. He had one of the best nights with her. He had held her and they talked until they had fallen asleep. He never would have thought just talking would be up that high on his list of 'best things ever'. He was struggling with keeping goofy grins off his face. Maybe Drake was right. Maybe he did need to stay away for a while.

Amanda opened her door with a flirtatious smile. "Hi there. I love a cute guy who brings me breakfast."

He couldn't stop his lips from curving. "I come bearing strawberry muffins." He walked in and set up everything on the bed. Amanda took a bite of one. "Oh my, this is so good! Did Bertrand bake these?"

Maxwell shrugged while finishing off his second one. "I have no idea. If he did, I think he has found a way to bring in some money."

Maxwell stared at his third muffin, suddenly worried. "Amanda?"

"Yes."

"Drake caught me smiling in the dining room."

"Really? Smiling like the Joker or smiling like 'oh we have strawberry muffins'?"

He chuckled. "You know me so well. Unfortunately, it was Joker smiling, though I tried to blow it off as muffins. He suggested that I not spend time with you today."

Amanda reached for his hand. "Hey. It's okay. If you need me to, I will leave. I love being with you, but I want that to be permanent. If leaving now for a few days makes me able end up with the love of my life, then I'm okay with that."

Maxwell looks at her and shakes his head smiling. "There you go, tempting me to kiss you. It's crazy how much I love you. I don't want you to go anywhere, especially where handsome movie stars hang out. Maybe I will try and stay away today. I'll have Drake bring you lunch and dinner. I can come back when everyone turns in."

Amanda smiles at him. She gets up and looks at her face in the mirror. Her bruises were turning blue around the edges and a lighter purple in the middle. "Ugh. I can't tell if this I better or not."

Maxwell pulls her to him. He gently touches her injured cheek, his cool fingers soothing where they touch. "It's starting to heal. You're still gorgeous." He leans his forhead against hers. "I guess I better go. Do you need anything?"

"I wouldn't say no to a pot of tea and an ice pack. Maybe another muffin."

He smiles. "Anything for my lady."

She wraps her arms around his waist. "Remember. Be sad."

He nods. "I won't let you down. To make it harder on me, I will have someone else bring the tea and ice pack." He hugs her one more time and leaves.

Liam was walking to Riley's room, mumbling along the way. He was rehearsing what he wanted to say to Riley. He knocked on her door. There was no answer. He knocked one more time.

"Sorry, I'm not in," came from behind him.

"Oh! Lady Riley. I was wondering if I could talk to you. Privately."

Riley opened her door and and invited him in. He stood before her as she perched on the foot of the bed. "What did you wish to talk to me about?"

Liam paused. All his thoughts and planned speeches had left his mind. He was at a loss at how to begin. She looked up at him, waiting patiently. "Liam?"

He knelt down on one knee and took her hands in his. "Riley. I am in love with you. I have fallen in love with your gentle heart. I adore everything about you, from your quick wit to your fierce loyalty. Your beauty both inside and out leaves me in awe. I know I'm supposed to wait until the Cornoration Ball, yet I do not believe I can wait one more moment. Would you do me the great honor of becoming my wife and my queen?

Tears of joy were filling Riley's eyes as she listened to him. "Oh Liam! Yes! Oh yes I will marry you. I love you with all my heart. I...think you won my heart that night back in New York."

Liam swept her in his arms. He kissed her with all the love he had for her. She was breathless when they broke apart. She laughed. "Liam, I am so happy right now!"

He smiled at her. "As am I, my love. Now though, I have to tell you the rest." He sat her down and explained about his father finding out about the contract of Lord Bridgerton's. He spared her no detail as he related what happened when his father met with the four of them. Once he was done explaining Drake's plan, he saw she was shaking with anger.

"My love?"

"I can not believe your father would do that to you. And the others. No wonder Maxwell was so depressed the day of the party! Poor Amanda. And keeping Savannah a secret from Drake! Well, I refuse to let him do that to all of you. We will win this, Liam. Together!"

Liam looked in amazement at his betrothed. She was going to be the perfect queen, wife, and hopefully one day be the mother to their children. He kissed her sweetly. "Thank you Riley. I know together we can do anything. Do you mind having to elope?" Riley shook her head. "I want to be with you. If the only way is eloping, then so be it."

"Do you think you can look unhappy in front of everyone? We have to give the idea my father has won and that we have accepted it."

Riley nodded her head regally. "Of course. Whatever it takes."

She kisses him passionately and turns to leave.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to Amanda's room. We need to strategize. You need to be depressed."

Liam gives her a sad smile. "Better?"

Her lips twitched, trying not to laugh. "Have you been practicing that in the mirror?"

"Of course. It is hard to be depressed around you, my lady."

She blew a kiss to him and left.

Maxwell was thinking that he must love Amanda a lot more than he originally thought. That had to be the reason he was willingly standing next to Bertrand. His brother was great at bringing him down. He was just what Maxwell needed. After telling Drake to check on Amanda during the day for him, he came to do his duty in sending some of their guests on their way.

He glanced toward the stairs and saw Drake coming down. He inched away from Bertrand and caught up with Drake in the living room. "How was she? Is she keeping the ice pack on? Did she like the tea? What was she doing?"

Drake gave the look he reserved for his friends when they were clearly in need of psychiatric help. "You saw her a few hours ago Maxwell. She's fine. She drank the tea and was using the ice pack. She said she thought she might take a nap."

Maxwell blushed. "I realize I sound like I should be committed to an asylum. I... well, I want to be with her."

Drake shook his head. "If this is love, I hope it never hits me the same way it does you and Liam." He shudders dramatically.

Liam walks in and smiles when he sees them. He closes the doors to give them privacy. "Gentlemen. Riley accepted my proposal and is willing to elope at the ball." Drake and Maxwell congratulated him and poured some drinks to toast.

Drake began the toast. "To the future King and Queen.

Liam smiled and lifted his own glass. "To the Duchess and future Duke."

Maxwell smiles. "To finding Savannah!"

They let their glasses clink together and drank to their futures.

Riley and Amanda were planning. "We have to make sure everyone stays looking like they are trying to cover up how upset they are. Since I can't leave the room until all the court returns to the palace, I am afraid it is all on your shoulders."

Riley nodded. "I've got this. Amanda? What do you think would happen if Constantine found out what we are planning?"

Amanda leaned back on her pillows. "I've tried to think about that and honestly, I think he will do anything to get his way. With bribing Maxwell and threatening the rest of us, he will have Liam do as he is told. We have to be careful. Maybe I should leave."

Riley looked shocked. "Leave? Why? Where would you go?"

Amanda grimaced. "I could go be with Thomas as he films. Maxwell doesn't want me to. I'm afraid Constantine is going to pressure us to finish this date." She put her head in her hands. She hated being under so much pressure. The week could not go by fast enough.

Riley stood up. "Don't worry. We will figure something out. We have a good plan. We will all have our happily ever after. Just get some rest."

Amanda gave her a hug. "In case I haven't said it, I'm very happy you are marrying one of my best friends."

Riley hugged her tightly. "I am too! I'm thrilled you are marrying one of mine. Now. I'm off to monitor the men. Is there any message I should give a certain guy?"

Amanda smiled. "No message. I don't want to hinder his acting."

Riley saluted her and left.

Drake observed his friends trying to keep their facade up. It was kinda impressive. Maxwell really looked upset. Liam looked anxious. He then noticed who else was watching them. Bastien. He must be the one Constantine placed to watch and report, Drake thought.

He walked over to Liam and said under his breath, "I think it's Bastien. I'm not sure who else is in on it."

Liam glanced over and saw the guard looking closely at Maxwell. Liam gave a barely perceptible nod. "Now, we need to see how to avoid him."

Bastien left his post by the window and walked over to Liam. "Your majesty, the King wanted me to remind you to spend time with Lady Amanda today. I am also to check her injuries and report back."

Liam's eyes narrowed at the guard. "He did, did he? Very well. Come, we will get this over with now."

When they left the room, Drake reported what happened to Maxwell. "Amanda is going to have to leave, isn't she?"

Drake ran an agitated hand through his hair. "I think so. We will all meet and discuss this after dinner."

Amanda struggled to keep her temper in check. She knew Bastien was just doing his duty, but it irked to have to submit to his examination. Liam stood beside her, his anger rolling off him in waves. Bastien told her that it was beginning to heal and that in another day or two she should feel up to finishing the final date.

Liam dismissed him and shut the bedroom door. He was so angry he could hardly think. He hated the sneaking and pretending. He detested that Amanda was having to be examined and kept hidden in her room. He looked at her. She seemed frozen in fear. She met his eyes. "Liam. I've got to leave. We can't finish everything this early."

She picked up her phone and sent two text messages to Thomas and Ryan. In a few minutes she received their replies. She looked back at Liam. "I'm leaving tomorrow morning."

His shoulders slumped. "I will go tell the others." He reached out and took her hand. "We will win." Amanda looked doubtful, but nodded. "I'm going to start packing." Liam left her worrying.

He found Drake and Maxwell talking with Riley, Hana, and Olivia. He greeted everyone, then asked to speak to the guys privately. Riley met his eyes and saw the anger and worry. She knew something must have happened and hoped he would find a way to tell her soon.

Maxwell slowly made his way upstairs. He couldn't believe Liam's news. This pressure was becoming unbearable. He knocked on Amanda's door and entered when she called him in. He saw her suitcases out and watched her empty the dresser of clothes. He leaned against the closed door.

"Well, I guess I won't be pretending to be upset anymore."

Amanda grimaced and kept folding her clothes. "We knew I might have to go. I just thought I wouldn't be doing it so soon. Thomas wants my input on some things, so at least I will be of use. I..." she stopped and bit her lip.

Maxwell watched her. She looked up at him. "If something happens and we can’t...I don't know what to do.”

Maxwell takes her in his arms. "Everything will be fine. I promise. I guess there is no point in staying away from you today."

Amanda nods. "None at all."

"Want to spend the night with your favorite guy?"

"My favorite guy? I didn't know he was here! Is he downstairs?"

Maxwell swatted her with a pillow.

After wiping the tears of laughter from her eyes, she pulled him close. "I would love to spend the night with you."

He grinned. "Good. I'm going to go try and kick out the remaining members of the court. You deserve some time out of your room."

@umccall71 @fullbeaumonty @darley1101 @katurrade @cocomaxley @mynameiskaylabella @annekebbphotography @hopefulmoonobject @museofbooks