#she's more open to that than she is being tethered to someone romantically

[batthiief]

She's not interested in genuine relationships, love hurts, love scars, and it's not really something she has any desire for.

[merbear25]

Thank you for your last response! I'd love to see America, Italy, Denmark, and Spain(if you write for him) finding their soulmate(red string, numbers counting down, first words spoken to each other, whatever works best!). She's shocked that someone like them ends up with her(plus size or just insecure if you don't mind? If not thats ok!) Please and thank you again!

Hello again! I have a 3 character limit, so I'm sorry but I decided to give Spain the chopping block 😭 Hope you like it regardless!

CW: SFW, fem!reader, reader has slight insecurites, fluff

Tethered love

America: Destiny was something he'd always believed should be molded, not something that was set in stone. The freedom to choose your own path was an idea he held very dear. This extended to the idea of soulmates: he was in full control of whoever he chose to date, not leaving something as important as this up to the stars. Despite the front he put up, he held out a bit of hope that such things regarding love existed: red string being his favorite. However, with years turning into decades and decades into centuries, the probability that he was tied to someone felt more and more unlikely.

Cruising down the same interstate he always took to the world meetings, he'd been caught up in belting his heart out to a song on the radio, causing him to miss his exit. Cursing under his breath, he was left no choice but to take the next one, but there was something off in the distance, further down the road, that caught his eye: a car pulled off on the shoulder and what looked like someone darting to the trunk.

Pulling up behind the supposedly broken-down vehicle, he went to ask if the driver needed any assistance. Your soft cries were muffling your pleads for any help he could offer. The soft features you had were now flushed from the paniced tears. However, they only added to your charm: the damsel waiting for her knight to come to her aid.

You showed him that one of your tires had popped and you'd forgotten to replace your previous spare. Embarrassement prickled at your nerves when admitting your lack of oversight, but he didn't seem to be bothered by the inconvenience you were troubling him with.

Gratitude could not leave your lips fast enough as you watched him graciously attach his spare to your car. Reassuring you that it wasn't a big deal and that he was happy to help, you still felt like you ought to properly thank him. Your stance shifted as you contimplated how to propose getting coffee with him—fearing the rejection that could follow.

Seeing you sway from side to side in his peripheral, he automatically thought you were about to pass out—why else would you be teetering back and forth? So as not to startle you, his concern was coated in a soothing tone. The redness in your cheeks deepened, only making you appear sweeter to him.

Choking your doubts back, you stumbled over your words asking him out. There was a light that shined behind his eyes—a beckon of hope for what he'd thought wasn't possible. Agreeing to the date was the only way to keep this feeling alive, and perhaps, he was willing to let destiny decide his fate just this once.

Italy: He'd built up the reputation of a fleeting lover. It wasn't intentional; he simply had a lot of love and affection to give and limiting it to one person wasn't something that necessarily came easily. That being said, he was a hopeless romantic at heart, which meant soulmates was something he held in high regards. However, he didn't consider this to be in the cards for him, at least not in the same regards as it was for typical humans: their lives were, of course, much shorter than his. Despite the sliver of doubt he had for his own destined love, he kept his heart open to the idea.

That summer had been a rather hot one, but a cold front had alleviated the sweltering heat a bit. Trying to make the most of the nice weather, he went to one of the many river banks. The shade under a tree was calling his name; he made himself comfortable underneath it, looking out at the water, enjoying the slight breeze before drifting off into a cat nap.

Sounds of a distant cry woke him and looking around in a haze, his drowsy eyes fell on you. Your sun hat had been blown off of you from the sudden gust of wind and you were chasing after it. The breeze carried it in his direction, and without thinking much of it, he reached out to grab it for you.

Offering it to you, he was able to get a better look at you: you were huffing a bit from having to chase it around, but the gratitude for his kindness actually made the out of breath 'thank yous' all the more endearing.

When he got up to properly introduce himself, you tucked your hair behind your ear and bashfully looked to the side; he was, in fact, fairly handsome and being in your current unkempt state made you shy away from the warm smile beaming at you. Wanting to meet your gaze, he leaned to catch your eyes.

You had a unique charm to you—there was no denying it, but why weren't you letting him admire it? The redness in your face was becoming more noticable, leading him to ask if you were feeling well. Spitting out that you felt fine, you finally turned to grant him the eye contact he'd been after.

A tightening in both of your chests was pulling on you; your heart beats quickened their paces the longer you maintained the shared gaze. You let out a soft chuckle at the constant attention. He found your laugh infectious and a grin appeared on his face, giving him the incentive to ask if you were doing anything later.

Denmark: He was fairly strong in his personal beliefs and self-assured in where life was taking him. However, there were aspects of life that held wonder and mystery, one of which being able to find a soulmate. There was a decent amount of uncertainty burdening him, since he'd like to think something as pure as a red string was real but was reluctant to fully invest himself in the theory—not wanting to hold his breath that such a thing existed. There were still moments that made him wonder though: seeing others share joy and the spark of love they held for each other.

Having to stop at the bakery was only one of the errands he needed to run that day. The smell of freshly baked bread always put a smile on his face, since he couldn't wait to eat that first slice. Exiting the shop, he'd gotten a bit distracted by his whetting appetite.

Not noticing the dog sprinting towards him, he hummed at the thought of the jam he was looking forward to spreading on the fresh bread. Your dog hurried up to him, circling around his legs and causing the leash to tangle around him.

Luckily, he was quick enough not to fall flat on his face, but the bread tilted in his arm, causing it to slide out to the packet. Annoyed at the inconvenience, he was sensible enough not to blame it on the dog. Looking around for the overly excited dog's owner, he saw you hurrying towards him.

Any aggrevation he could've had towards the careless owner faded when he saw your sorrowful expression calling out to him. When you finally reached them, your dog was jumping up on him trying its hardest to receive a pat on the head, which he absentmindedly placed on its eager head.

After catching up to your dog, you apologized profusely for your carelessness. Despite being in the midst of pouring your heart out about how you'd buy him more bread and how sorry you were, his tender eyes made you lose your train of thought.

The way you stumbled over your heart-felt apology was endearing to him: you were darling. With your dog licking his hand, you reached down to untangle the leash that was still wrapped around him. Taking you up on your offer to reimburse him, he mentioned that he'd instead like to be repaid with something more formal: a date.

[thequeenofneverland1]

Damon and Stefan Salvatore//// In the shallow of Katherine Pierce

Anonymous request: hi. Can you do where y/n is the twin of Elena but in reality she’s the daughter of katherine and the Salvatores likes her

Warnings:Emotional Distress, Threats of Violence:, Supernatural Themes, Family Dynamics, Romantic Tension and Self-Discovery.

growing up as Elena Gilbert’s twin, sharing every birthday, holiday, and milestone side-by-side. On the surface, you two were inseparable, sharing everything from a room to friends. But there was always something different about you, something unspoken that hovered in the background like a shadow. You couldn’t explain it, yet the feeling never left. It was as though some invisible thread tethered you to a part of yourself no one else could see.

You kept secrets, even from Elena. Small things, at first, hidden moments of intense emotion, instincts that flared up in ways you couldn’t explain. You were tougher, sharper, with a temper that burned quicker and brighter than hers. People noticed, joking that you must’ve inherited some kind of “Gilbert fire,” even if no one in your family was quite like you. Still, you brushed it off, thinking perhaps it was just part of being a twin, of having to share every part of yourself with someone else.

But as you grew older, whispers and rumors seemed to follow you in hushed tones. More than once, you caught adults exchanging glances, your name dropping like a slip of the tongue before they’d clear their throats and change the subject. Sometimes you’d catch a glimpse of someone in the crowd, a stranger with piercing eyes and a smirk that felt oddly familiar, and feel an inexplicable pull, only for them to disappear a moment later.

Then, when you encounter Katherine for the first time, you’re struck by how similar you feel to her. The way she moves, the way she thinks and schemes, it feels like looking in a twisted mirror. The feeling unnerves you, a strange resonance you can’t ignore. She stares at you with a knowing gleam, as if she sees right through you, and it unsettles you in a way nothing else ever has. But why would Katherine Pierce, the infamous vampire, care so much about you?

Unbeknownst to anyone, even Katherine, she had a second child, one that was taken from her while she was still on the run from Klaus Mikaelson, hidden away as a twin to Elena by those who feared her power and lineage. You have her blood, her cunning, and perhaps her destiny. But for now, that truth lies buried deep, waiting to surface in ways that could change everything.

The day Elena brings Damon and Stefan to meet you is quiet and warm, one of those rare moments when Mystic Falls feels almost normal. You don’t have many expectations; after all, you’ve heard enough about them to feel prepared. But the moment you open the door and see them, you’re struck by a strange, inexplicable familiarity.

Damon’s eyes rake over you with a flicker of recognition, a glimmer of something he’s not used to admitting: intrigue, maybe even a kind of awe. You know Damon’s reputation, his devil-may-care attitude, but in this moment, he seems almost taken aback, as if seeing a ghost he’s crossed paths with before. Stefan, though more composed, is no less surprised. He stares at you with that quiet intensity, the kind that feels like he’s searching for something hidden just under the surface.

There’s a heartbeat of silence, an unspoken something filling the air. You meet Damon’s gaze, holding it just a little too long, and a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. You have a feeling you’ve just accepted a silent invitation into a game he plays with far too few worthy opponents. And Stefan, with his thoughtful, steady eyes, looks at you like he’s trying to piece together a memory that won’t quite come into focus.

Elena notices the looks. She steps between you and them, the tension sharpening her voice as she blurts out, “Okay, why are you two looking at her like that?”

Damon glances at Stefan with a mischievous glint in his eyes, raising his eyebrows as if to say, Did you notice that too? Stefan, on the other hand, shifts his focus back to Elena, as if deciding on how much to reveal.

“It’s just… strange,” Stefan says finally. “It’s like we’ve met her before.”

Elena rolls her eyes, folding her arms defensively. “You haven’t met her. This is my sister. Not some long-lost friend of yours.”

Damon, never one to back down from a chance to stir the pot, leans casually against the doorframe and smirks. “Relax, Elena. It’s just a bit… eerie. It’s like I’m seeing something familiar, but in a way I can’t put my finger on.” His gaze flickers to you again, that flirtatious gleam in his eye making it clear he’s more than willing to investigate the mystery further.

Your heart skips a beat, a mixture of irritation and intrigue taking hold. You’re used to getting looks, but this, this is different. You match his stare, feeling the subtle weight of his intensity, realizing that whatever unspoken history you may or may not share with him, he seems determined to uncover it.

Elena huffs, moving a step closer to you as if to shield you from whatever games they might be playing. “Well, you don’t need to figure it out. She’s not a part of whatever mess you’re dealing with.”

Damon’s smirk widens, his gaze darting back to you. “Oh, but something tells me she can handle a little mess. Can’t you?”

You give him a small, sly smile, letting him know you’re more than capable of handling whatever he’s thinking. Stefan clears his throat, shooting Damon a warning look, but you can sense that even he’s still trying to decipher the strange familiarity he feels around you.

It’s a strange, charged moment, one that leaves you wondering if this pull between you and the Salvatores is merely a quirk of shared history, or if there’s something deeper, something neither you nor they fully understand. For now, all you know is that you have their attention in a way you hadn’t expected, and part of you can’t help but be drawn into the mystery just as much as they are.

In the dimly lit corner of the Mystic Grill, Elena sat across from Caroline, swirling her drink distractedly as she tried to find the right words. She hadn’t been able to shake the strange, almost protective feeling she’d been harboring since the moment Damon and Stefan first laid eyes on you. There was something in their expressions, something that had nagged at her from the start.

Caroline tilted her head, picking up on Elena’s discomfort. “What’s up? You look like you’ve got something on your mind.”

Elena let out a sigh, glancing around before leaning in. “It’s… it’s Y/N. Or, I guess, more like the way Damon and Stefan act around her.”

Caroline’s eyes widened, intrigued. “Oh? You think they have a thing for her?”

Elena bit her lip, unsure of how to explain. “I don’t know… it’s more complicated than that. Since that first day, the way they looked at her, almost like they’d met her before. Like they recognized something in her that they couldn’t shake.”

Caroline raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. “Do you think it’s because she looks like you? I mean, you two are twins, after all.”

Elena shook her head, looking slightly frustrated. “Maybe… but it feels like more than that. Like they’re seeing something, or someone,they’ve lost. I’m worried they might be seeing Katherine in her.”

Caroline’s expression shifted to one of sympathy. “Elena, they’ve been through so much because of Katherine. But I don’t think they’d just start confusing the two of you. They know she’s your sister.”

Elena’s jaw tightened, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “It’s just… every time they’re around her, there’s this look, this intensity. I know they’re drawn to her, but I don’t want them to think that she’s Katherine. I want them to see her for who she really is.”

Caroline reached across the table, squeezing Elena’s hand reassuringly. “They know who Y/N is. She’s nothing like Katherine, and Damon and Stefan are smart enough to see that. They’re probably just a little… nostalgic, maybe? They’ve spent years haunted by memories of her, and seeing someone who reminds them of you, someone new, yet familiar, could stir up a lot.”

Elena nodded, though the worry in her eyes didn’t fully fade. “I just don’t want them to project their issues with Katherine onto her. Y/N deserves better than that. She’s not part of their past, she’s her own person.”

Caroline gave her a gentle smile, her voice firm. “And they’ll realize that, Elena. Besides, you’re not the only one watching out for her. They both care about you, and I don’t think they’d ever hurt her or use her as some replacement.”

Elena sighed, managing a small smile. “You’re right. I just… I just don’t want her getting caught up in all of this.”

Caroline nodded knowingly. “Trust me, you’re a great sister. And if Damon or Stefan start acting like idiots, we’ll set them straight.”

Elena chuckled, feeling some of the tension ease, knowing that no matter what, she had people looking out for her, and you

The Salvatore brothers returned to their grand, dimly lit boarding house, silence stretching between them. Each was lost in thought, still feeling the lingering effect of their encounter with you. Damon poured himself a glass of bourbon, his eyes distant as he swirled the amber liquid. Stefan, leaning against the doorway, finally broke the silence.

“She’s… she’s not like Elena,” Stefan murmured, almost to himself, though Damon heard every word.

Damon smirked, though his expression was more bitter than amused. “You noticed that too, huh?” He took a long sip, the warmth of the alcohol doing little to soften the twist of unease in his chest. “She’s got Katherine’s eyes, the same fire behind them. Like she knows more than she lets on.”

Stefan nodded, his mind drifting back to the way you’d looked at them, a flicker of recognition sparking in your gaze. It was the same feeling he used to get whenever Katherine looked his way: a sense that he was being seen, truly seen, with a level of intensity that went beyond the surface. The resemblance to Katherine was uncanny, not in looks alone, but in the subtleties of your expressions, the way your smile hinted at secrets neither brother could decipher.

“Did you… did you feel it too, Damon?” Stefan asked cautiously, his voice carrying an almost wistful tone. “Like we’ve met her before?” He knew it sounded absurd, but the connection felt strangely familiar, like your presence filled a void neither of them had realized was there.

Damon leaned back, exhaling sharply. “Yeah, but it’s more than that, Stefan. There’s something about her, like she’s the part of Katherine that got away, the part she kept hidden.” His jaw clenched as he recalled the nights he’d spent unraveling Katherine’s lies, searching for pieces of her that never quite fit together. Now, standing before you had felt like finding one of those missing pieces, resurrecting a part of him he thought had been buried with her.

“She isn’t Katherine,” Stefan reminded him, though the words sounded hollow even to his own ears. The intensity of Damon’s gaze as he spoke wasn’t lost on him. “But… there’s no denying the resemblance. It’s unsettling.”

Damon let out a humorless laugh. “You don’t think I know that? Believe me, I don’t need any reminders of who she isn’t.” He paused, swallowing his emotions. “But seeing her… it’s like being haunted by Katherine all over again.”

They both fell silent, wrestling with feelings neither could entirely pin down. The line between memory and reality was blurring, and neither could deny the strange attraction, the unspoken tension that had hung in the air from the moment they met you. You were Elena’s twin, yes, but something about you stirred in them a feeling both exhilarating and painful, an echo of the past they thought they had left behind.

Stefan finally spoke, his voice softer now. “We can’t let Elena know. She’s already suspicious, and if she finds out we’re… drawn to her sister, it’ll only hurt her. And… she doesn’t need to know that Y/n remind us of Katherine.” He met Damon’s gaze, a silent plea in his eyes.

Damon nodded, the usual cocky glint in his eyes dimmed by a seriousness Stefan rarely saw. “Agreed,” he said, though the words felt like a weight in his chest. “But let’s face it, Stefan. Whatever this is, it’s not going away. Not unless we get to the bottom of who she really is, and why we’re both feeling this way.”

The brothers exchanged a heavy glance, each recognizing the turmoil brewing between them. It was a pull neither wanted to confront, yet ignoring it felt impossible. The question now wasn’t just who you were, but what your arrival would mean for them, and for everything they thought they understood about love, loyalty, and the ghosts that refused to stay buried.

The arrival of the Mikaelsons sends a ripple through Mystic Falls, a new storm on the horizon. You’ve barely stepped out of the boarding house before you see them, all four of them, a striking and intimidating presence. Kol, Elijah, Klaus, and Rebekah stand together like something out of an old painting, a darkly elegant family bound by blood and the centuries that forged them. Their eyes scan the area, searching, and when they spot you, three sets of eyes light up with interest.

Kol is the first to approach, a wicked smile already playing on his lips as he watches you with an unmistakable spark. “Well, aren’t you a sight,” he says smoothly, his eyes drifting over you with an admiration that’s anything but subtle. “And here I thought Mystic Falls had grown boring.”

Elijah is more reserved but no less intrigued. He steps closer, his gaze thoughtful, his head tilted ever so slightly as if he’s studying a rare piece of art. “It’s rare to meet someone who carries themselves with such… poise,” he says, his tone polite yet filled with something deeper. He gives you a small, approving nod, and you can tell he’s the kind of man who’s drawn to people of depth and mystery, and it seems you’ve caught his attention.

Klaus is last to make his move, standing back a bit, his eyes dark and assessing. The way he looks at you is intense, almost possessive, as if he’s already decided that whatever’s drawn his interest here will soon belong to him. “You must be Elena’s twin,” he says with a smirk, his gaze practically pinning you in place. “Though, I must say, I expected something… softer.” His voice drips with challenge, and the gleam in his eye is as predatory as it is fascinated.

Before you can respond, Damon and Stefan appear at your side, their expressions tense. Damon steps forward, slipping an arm around your shoulders with a look of defiance. “Well, well,” he drawls, his voice edged with sarcasm, “look who decided to show up. What, Mystic Falls not deadly enough without you lot?”

Klaus’ smirk widens, and he meets Damon’s challenge head-on. “Relax, Damon. We’re only here to get reacquainted with an old friend.” His gaze flicks back to you, lingering with interest that he doesn’t bother to hide. “One we didn’t know we had.”

Kol chuckles, his eyes still fixed on you as he pointedly ignores Damon and Stefan. “Can’t say I blame them for hovering,” he murmurs, leaning a bit closer to you. “With looks like yours, I’d be protective too.”

Stefan shifts uncomfortably, a flicker of jealousy flashing across his face as he watches Kol get a little too close for comfort. “Maybe you should take a step back,” Stefan suggests, his tone controlled but firm.

Rebekah, who’s been watching the tension build with a smirk, finally speaks up, adding her own fuel to the fire. “Oh, don’t be so touchy,” she teases, glancing between Damon and Stefan with an amused glint in her eye. “It’s not our fault if she prefers better company.”

You can feel Damon’s grip on your shoulder tighten as he glares at the Originals, his jaw clenched as he looks between them. “I don’t think she’s in the market for new friends,” he says, his voice edged with a protectiveness you haven’t heard from him before. He throws a pointed look at Kol, then Klaus, his eyes flashing with warning.

But the Mikaelsons are undeterred, clearly enjoying the reaction they’re getting. Elijah, ever the diplomat, holds up a hand as if to diffuse the tension, though there’s a sly glint in his eye. “Let’s not be hasty,” he says, looking directly at you. “Perhaps she can make her own decisions.”

The moment he says it, you feel their eyes on you, Damon and Stefan on one side, Kol, Elijah, and Klaus on the other. The pull between them is palpable, and you realize with a strange sense of satisfaction that you hold all the cards here.

Damon’s lips curl in irritation, but he doesn’t let go of you, his arm still firmly around your shoulders. “If you think we’re just going to stand by while you try to—”

“To what?” Klaus cuts in smoothly, his voice low and laced with amusement. “Show her a better time? Give her a taste of freedom, perhaps? Because something tells me she might like that.” His gaze never wavers from yours, an unspoken invitation in his eyes.

The tension between the Salvatores and the Mikaelsons is electric, and you can practically feel the jealousy radiating off of Damon and Stefan as the Originals blatantly express their interest in you. Damon leans in, speaking low in your ear, “Don’t let them fool you. They’ll drag you into their twisted little games and spit you out when they’re done.”

But part of you is tempted, intrigued by the promise of something unknown and dangerous. You’ve always been drawn to things that lie outside the lines, and the Mikaelsons, especially Kol and Klaus, seem more than willing to play along. You smile at Damon, giving him a look that says you can handle yourself, and then meet Kol’s gaze with a spark in your eye.

The Originals might have come to town to stir up trouble, but they didn’t expect to find someone who could stir them up just as much. As you hold their gaze, you sense that this is only the beginning of a rivalry that’s bound to get more intense, and you’re more than ready to be in the middle of it.

The following evening, you found yourself at the Salvatore boarding house, standing in the dimly lit parlor with an expression that was equal parts confusion and frustration. After everything you’d witnessed at the gathering, the cold stares, the thinly veiled jealousy, and the sharp tension between the Salvatores and the Mikaelsons, you felt you couldn’t stay silent any longer. You needed answers.

Stefan and Damon stood before you, Damon leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, wearing his usual smirk, though tonight it seemed forced. Stefan was watching you, his brow furrowed, clearly sensing your frustration.

“Okay,” you began, folding your arms. “What was that back there? You two were acting like absolute jerks.”

Damon scoffed, raising an eyebrow at you. “Jerks? Us? I’d say we were just… looking out for you,” he replied, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. He tried to brush it off with a smirk, but you weren’t buying it.

“Looking out for me?” you repeated, voice thick with disbelief. “It didn’t feel like that. It felt like you were trying to scare them off.” You looked between the two of them, your gaze intense. “Why, Damon? Why did you feel the need to interfere?”

Stefan sighed, running a hand through his hair, looking like he wanted to step in and explain, but Damon spoke first.

“You really don’t see it, do you?” Damon replied, his tone sharper than he intended. “The Mikaelsons, they’re not exactly known for their warm and fuzzy reputations. Klaus, Elijah, Kol, they don’t care about anyone but themselves.”

“That’s not your decision to make,” you shot back, frustration growing. “I can handle myself, Damon. I don’t need you two stepping in like… like some overprotective bodyguards.” You paused, meeting Stefan’s gaze, who looked down as if struggling to put his feelings into words. “What is really going on here? Because this isn’t just about keeping me ‘safe.’ This feels… personal.”

Stefan shifted, glancing at Damon before meeting your eyes. “You’re right,” he admitted softly. “Maybe it is personal. But not in the way you think.”

You waited, crossing your arms, silently urging him to continue.

“Seeing you with them, it brought back memories,” Stefan continued, his voice tight. “Memories of Katherine. The way you looked at them… it reminded us of things we thought we’d buried.”

“Katherine,” you murmured, the name feeling strange on your tongue. The infamous vampire you’d heard countless stories about, the one who had left a mark on everyone in Mystic Falls, including the Salvatore brothers. “You think I’m like her?”

Damon’s gaze softened slightly, the cocky veneer slipping as he studied you. “It’s not just that you’re like her. It’s that… you remind us of her. There’s this part of you, this fire, this strength, and the Originals, they’re drawn to it. Just like they were to her.” He clenched his jaw, as if the words were a bitter pill he was struggling to swallow. “And maybe we don’t want to see that happen again.”

The weight of his confession settled over you, and you looked between them, realizing the depth of what they were saying. It wasn’t just jealousy, it was fear, an old wound reopening, and they were terrified of losing someone else to the same darkness that had once pulled them both in.

You exhaled, trying to find the right words. “Damon, Stefan… I’m not Katherine. I get that she hurt you both in ways I can’t even imagine. But that doesn’t mean I’m her.” Your voice softened as you continued, “And the Mikaelsons, yes, they’re different, maybe even dangerous, but that’s my choice to make. Not yours.”

Stefan’s expression softened, a trace of regret appearing in his eyes. “We know that. It’s just… difficult. Seeing you with them, it brought up feelings we didn’t realize we still had. It’s not an excuse, but it’s the truth.”

You took a step closer, searching their faces. “Then be honest with me. Is that all this is, some unresolved ghost of Katherine? Or is there something else?”

Damon’s jaw clenched, and he looked away, clearly wrestling with something he couldn’t bring himself to say. But Stefan, his voice low and filled with honesty, spoke up.

“It’s more than that,” he admitted, his gaze steady. “It’s about you. You’re not just Elena’s twin to us, or some reminder of the past. You’ve… become important to us in a way we didn’t expect. And maybe that’s why seeing you with them was so hard.” He took a deep breath, his eyes full of unspoken words. “Because we care about you,more than we probably should.”

Damon shifted, his usual bravado fading as he finally met your gaze. “He’s right,” he said quietly, a rare sincerity in his voice. “Look, I don’t do this whole ‘feelings’ thing, but… yeah, you matter. And maybe that scares me more than I’d like to admit.”

The confession hung in the air, heavy and electric, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. The fierce protectiveness, the jealousy, the vulnerability, they had all been signs, masked behind layers of bravado and denial.

After a moment, you took a deep breath, your gaze softening as you looked at them. “I understand now. And maybe… maybe I feel something too,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. “But that doesn’t mean you can protect me from everything. I need to be able to make my own choices, even if they involve the Mikaelsons.”

Damon sighed, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Alright, we get it. We’ll back off… a little. But don’t expect us to stay quiet if those Originals start playing games.”

Stefan nodded, giving you a small smile. “We trust you. And we’ll be here, no matter what you decide.”

With that, an unspoken understanding settled between you, a recognition of the complex feelings swirling between you all. And as you left that night, you knew that whatever lay ahead, with the Salvatore brothers, the Mikaelsons, or the ghosts of the past, you wouldn’t be facing it alone.

After the heated conversation, the atmosphere in the boarding house has softened slightly. The tension between you and the Salvatores seems to have loosened its grip, and they’re no longer brimming with protective anger. Instead, Damon is leaning against the wall, arms crossed, studying you with his usual half-smirk, while Stefan is seated on the couch, still watching you with that cautious yet gentle look. They might still be worried, but you’ve made your point clear, and for now, that’s enough.

You take a deep breath, realizing that maybe this is the perfect time to lighten the mood and remind them, and yourself, that life doesn’t have to be all danger and drama. A glint of excitement shines in your eyes as you turn to face them both.

“So,” you start, a playful smile spreading across your face. “Speaking of needing you two… I have a favor to ask.”

Damon raises an eyebrow, looking at you curiously. “A favor, huh? Haven’t we done enough heroic, life-saving duties for the day?”

“Oh, relax, Damon,” you say with a laugh. “I’m not asking you to save my life or anything.” You pause, glancing at Stefan, who’s watching you with a small, intrigued smile. “I wanted to ask if you’d go to prom with me.”

Both of them look momentarily stunned. Prom probably isn’t something they’d expected you to bring up, especially not in the middle of this entire Mikaelson drama. But as the surprise fades, you can see a hint of something else in their expressions, something warm, something that speaks of a life they’ve nearly forgotten.

Damon recovers first, his smirk growing into a full-blown grin. “Prom, huh? I haven’t been to one of those in… well, let’s just say it’s been a while. Are you really asking us?”

You roll your eyes, fighting back a smile as you cross your arms. “Yes, you two. I mean, technically, it’s supposed to be a date thing, but seeing as I’m not exactly swimming in options that don’t involve ancient, overly charming Originals, I figured I’d bring my two favorite guys along.” You give them a playful nudge. “Come on, are you in?”

Stefan chuckles, leaning back on the couch with an expression that’s somewhere between nostalgia and amusement. “I never pictured myself going to another prom, but… if you’re asking, how could I say no?” There’s something soft in his tone, a sincerity that warms you. He’s been through so much darkness that the thought of a simple, carefree night must sound almost like a distant dream.

Damon, however, seems less sentimental and more intrigued. He steps closer, eyeing you with that familiar glint of mischief. “So, let me get this straight. You want both of us to be your dates to prom? You realize that’s going to turn a few heads, don’t you?”

You laugh, nodding. “Oh, I’m counting on it. I mean, if I’m going to prom, I may as well go all out. And besides…” You hesitate, a flicker of honesty slipping through. “After everything that’s been going on, I kind of just want one normal night. And I couldn’t think of two people I’d rather spend it with.”

For a moment, the lighthearted tone shifts, and there’s a silence that feels like understanding, like they realize what you’re really asking. It’s not just a night at prom, it’s a chance to escape the weight of the supernatural world, to remember what it’s like to feel young and carefree.

Stefan’s expression softens, and he gives you a gentle smile. “Then we’re in. We’ll make it a night to remember.”

Damon chuckles, but there’s a glimmer of something real in his eyes as he nods in agreement. “Fine, we’re in. But if we’re doing this, we’re doing it right.” He gives you a sly smile. “I’ll make sure to get us a limo, maybe even some flowers. A real prom experience.”

You raise an eyebrow, grinning. “Flowers, Damon? Are you actually saying you’ll go all out?”

“Hey,” he protests, feigning offense, “if I’m going to be one of your dates, I’ve got to bring my A-game. Besides,” he adds with a smirk, “I think I might enjoy this whole ‘normal life’ thing for a change. Plus, it’ll be fun to watch everyone’s reaction when you show up with not one, but two dates.”

You can’t help but laugh, already picturing the scandalized looks, the whispers. It’s a tempting thought, but more than that, you feel a warmth growing in your chest at the idea of a night with Damon and Stefan by your side, where, just for a few hours, you could all forget the supernatural chaos.

Stefan’s expression shifts as he stands, his tone quieter but full of genuine excitement. “It’s a good idea, Y/N. After everything, I think we all need this.”

“Agreed,” Damon says, his usual sarcasm replaced by something softer. “So, prom it is. I hope you’re ready to be the center of attention because something tells me this night’s going to make a splash.”

You nod, feeling a surge of excitement. For the first time in a long while, you feel a flicker of that simple thrill, that feeling of looking forward to something without any hidden dangers or secrets lurking around the corner. The thought of going to prom with the Salvatores, of having an evening where you can just be, it’s exactly what you need.

“Then it’s a date,” you say with a grin, looking between Damon and Stefan.

Damon raises his glass in a mock toast, his smirk widening. “To prom. And to making everyone at Mystic Falls High question exactly how you managed to score two dates.”

Stefan laughs, clinking his glass against Damon’s, a relaxed smile on his face as he glances at you. “And here’s to you, Y/N. For knowing how to keep us on our toes.”

Your heart warmed at the sincerity in his words. For a moment, the weight of Mystic Falls, the dangers, the past, the uncertainties, melted away. This felt real, uncomplicated by secrets and rivalries. Just you and the two people who, despite the chaos, had come to mean so much.

When the night of prom arrived, you felt an excited nervousness settle in as you stood in front of the mirror, smoothing the elegant gown you’d chosen. It was a deep, rich color, one that brought out the warmth in your eyes and made you feel almost like a character from an old romance novel. As you looked at your reflection, you could hardly believe that tonight was finally here, that you were about to share a moment like this with Damon and Stefan.

In the hours leading up to prom, the Salvatore boarding house buzzed with an energy usually reserved for battles, not ballroom dances. But tonight was different. Tonight, Damon and Stefan were putting in effort that went far beyond the usual suit-and-tie routine. They were getting ready for prom with you, a night that had come to mean far more than either of them initially realized.

Damon stood in front of the mirror, his tailored black suit fitting him perfectly. He smoothed his lapel, inspecting himself with a critical eye, his usual cocky grin absent as he actually considered his appearance. The suit had been specially selected for the night, a sleek, modern cut that hugged his frame just right, exuding a devil-may-care charm that was so quintessentially Damon.

“Looking a bit serious there, aren’t we?” Stefan’s voice came from across the room. He was meticulously brushing his hair, his suit equally tailored to perfection, a classic, timeless look that spoke to his sense of elegance and quiet confidence.

Damon smirked, brushing his hand over his jacket. “Can’t help it, little brother. Tonight’s a big night.” His voice carried a hint of excitement masked under his usual sarcasm, though Stefan wasn’t fooled.

“Big night, or big ego?” Stefan countered with a grin, adjusting his cufflinks. His suit was a deep charcoal black, accentuating his calm, refined aura. He’d chosen it specifically to match your dress after overhearing you mention the color once. Stefan ran a hand through his hair one last time, making sure each strand was in place.

“Say what you will,” Damon replied, ignoring the jab as he spritzed some cologne on his wrist, dabbing it against his neck. “But I’m just making sure I’m at my best tonight. We have competition.” He shot a look at Stefan in the mirror, referencing the lingering threat of the Mikaelsons, who had made their interest in you known a little too clearly for the Salvatore brothers’ liking.

Stefan rolled his eyes, his tone turning more serious. “Right, because a few sprays of cologne are going to keep the Originals away.” He tightened his tie with a practiced ease, still watching Damon with a bemused expression.

But Damon was already unscrewing the cap of his cologne again, this time going in for another spritz… and then another. “I’m just being thorough,” he shrugged, giving himself a liberal amount, until the scent filled the entire room in a thick, woodsy cloud.

Stefan coughed, waving a hand to clear the air. “Thorough? Damon, you’re basically choking the room at this point,” he complained, though his tone was amused. “Do you actually want her to smell anything else tonight?”

Damon shrugged, unbothered, his smirk widening. “What? She likes it. And it’s not like I’m risking smelling like Old Spice and regret like some people.” He shot Stefan a teasing look.

Stefan gave an exasperated sigh, but his eyes held a glint of humor. “Alright, alright. Let’s just try to leave her some oxygen to breathe tonight.”

Ignoring his brother’s complaints, Damon checked himself out in the mirror one last time, his gaze slightly softer as he thought about seeing you. “She deserves a proper prom night,” he murmured, more to himself than to Stefan. For a second, a look of genuine anticipation flickered in his eyes, something vulnerable and uncharacteristic, a glimpse of his softer side. “One she’ll remember.”

Stefan watched him for a moment, his own expression softening. “Agreed.”

The truth was, neither of them would admit it, but they were both nervous. The idea of a regular night where they could just enjoy your company, no threats, no looming dangers, was something they both hadn’t realized they craved until now. They wanted this night to be special for you, and, perhaps secretly, for themselves, too.

Stefan brushed his hair one last time, giving his reflection a final, approving nod. Damon adjusted his collar, straightening the lapel and flashing one last, self-assured grin in the mirror.

“Shall we?” Damon gestured toward the stairs, but as they both walked toward the door, Stefan couldn’t help but stop, catching a whiff of Damon’s overwhelming cologne. He raised an eyebrow, giving Damon a smirk.

“If she faints tonight, it won’t be from excitement,” he said dryly.

Damon laughed, waving him off. “Oh, please. She’ll love it. Besides, no one will be able to ignore my charm when I walk into that room.”

A knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts, and you opened it to find the Salvatore brothers standing there, both dressed in sharp, tailored suits. They looked every bit the part of classic gentlemen, yet each in their own way. Stefan with his calm, reassuring smile and Damon with his roguish smirk, his gaze lingering on you with open admiration.

“You look… incredible,” Stefan said softly, his eyes alight with warmth as he took in your appearance.

Damon stepped forward, his eyes glinting with his usual mischief, but there was a sincerity there that made your heart skip. “Well, princess, if I’d known you’d clean up this well, I would’ve asked you out sooner.”

You rolled your eyes, unable to suppress your smile. “Thank you. You both look… well, let’s just say the tuxes suit you.”

As they each offered you an arm, you slipped yours through theirs, feeling a thrill of excitement as you walked out of your house with the two of them by your side. Arriving at the prom with both Stefan and Damon drew some curious glances, whispers trailing behind you. But you ignored it all, your focus on the magic of the night and the two people who’d made it feel so special.

As the night went on, the three of you laughed, danced, and shared stories, the usual weight of Mystic Falls lifted, if only for a few hours. You found yourself captivated by Damon’s sharp wit, his playful remarks making you laugh more than you had in ages, while Stefan’s gentle kindness made you feel safe, his quiet strength grounding you in a way that felt natural and right.

When a slow song began, Damon gave Stefan a quick nod and took your hand, leading you to the dance floor. He wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you close, his intense blue eyes locking onto yours as the two of you swayed in rhythm. For a moment, the world shrank to just the two of you, and you could feel the connection between you, a pull, a shared understanding, deeper than either of you could deny.

After the song ended, Damon reluctantly stepped back, giving Stefan a turn. Stefan’s touch was soft, his hand resting gently on your back as he guided you through the next song. There was a gentleness in his gaze, a tenderness that made you feel seen, truly seen, in a way you hadn’t before. As he held you, his eyes never left yours, and you could sense that he, too, felt something he couldn’t quite put into words.

When the music finally stopped, the three of you lingered on the dance floor, sharing a quiet, meaningful moment. Damon’s smirk softened as he glanced between you and Stefan, a flicker of genuine contentment in his expression.

“I’ll admit it,” he said, his voice a low murmur. “This was a pretty good idea.”

Stefan chuckled, nodding. “Agreed. I’m glad you asked us.”

You smiled, feeling an overwhelming sense of happiness as you looked between the two of them. “Thank you… for making this night unforgettable.”

And as the three of you stood there, bathed in the glow of the twinkling lights, you knew that this was more than just a prom night. It was a memory, a rare and precious moment of peace and joy in a world filled with shadows. Whatever the future held, you knew this night would always be a reminder of the bond you shared, and the feelings that had quietly taken root between you and the Salvatores, feelings that promised to grow, even amid the turmoil of Mystic Falls.

The music at the Mystic Falls High gym is loud, pulsing with a beat that reverberates through the room, blending with the cheerful shouts and laughter of the students on the dance floor. The air is filled with the scents of perfume, cologne, and the faint aroma of punch. Damon and Stefan stand at the edge of the room, keeping a watchful eye on you as you move through the crowd in your elegant dress, the color complimenting your skin and the lights reflecting in your eyes. For the first time in what feels like forever, you’re smiling, carefree, sharing a moment with friends, soaking in the thrill of the night.

You glanced around, your instincts screaming that something was wrong. A figure in the shadows near the entrance caught your eye, his silhouette tall and ominous. Mikael. You knew the stories, heard the tales of his ruthless pursuit of the Originals, but he had never set his sights on you, until now.

Before Damon or Stefan could notice, you slipped quietly out the side door, hoping that maybe you could lure him away from the prom, away from everyone you cared about. But as soon as you stepped outside, you could feel Mikael’s presence, looming and heavy, like a predator stalking its prey. You took a deep breath, moving quickly down the empty school hallway, hearing the faintest echo of his footsteps behind you.

The announcement for prom royalty echoes over the speakers, and the crowd’s cheers swell as your name is called. “And this year’s prom Queen is… Y/N Gilbert!” The room erupts into applause, and heads turn, waiting for you to step forward.

But you don’t move. Damon’s playful smirk drops as he scans the crowd, his brows knitting in concern when he doesn’t see you. Stefan is quick to follow suit, his eyes darting around the gym, searching for any sign of you.

“Where did she go?” Damon mutters, the hint of worry creeping into his tone as he starts to push through the crowd, Stefan close behind.

“She was right here a minute ago,” Stefan’s brow furrowed, his eyes darting through the crowd

Damon didn’t wait another second. He pulled out his phone, ready to call you, when suddenly, it buzzed in his hand. Your name flashed on the screen, and he immediately pressed the answer button.

“Y/N? Where are you?” Damon’s voice was edged with worry.

Your breath came out in ragged gasps as you whispered into the phone, “Damon… Mikael is here. He’s… he’s chasing me. I had to leave the prom—I didn’t want him hurting anyone else.”

The weight of your words hung heavy, and Stefan’s eyes widened as he picked up on the conversation. He moved closer, trying to listen, his face contorted with worry and determination.

“Where are you?” Damon’s tone sharpened, the protective side of him igniting at the mention of Mikael’s name.

“I… I think I’m near the science wing. I’m trying to stay ahead of him, but he’s… fast.”

Stefan took the phone from Damon, his voice calm but urgent as he spoke. “Stay where you are, Y/N. We’re coming to get you. Don’t try to face him alone.”

You swallowed hard, glancing over your shoulder as Mikael’s silhouette emerged at the end of the hallway, his cold eyes locked onto you. “I’ll try. Just… hurry.”

With that, you ended the call, your heart pounding as you backed up, searching for an escape route. But Mikael’s predatory gaze never left you, his every step deliberate as he stalked toward you.

Damon and Stefan didn’t waste a second. They pushed through the crowd, ignoring the curious glances as they headed for the exit. Damon’s jaw was clenched, his eyes blazing with determination. “If he lays a hand on her…”

Stefan placed a steadying hand on Damon’s shoulder, his own face grim. “We’ll get to her first.”

They moved quickly through the dimly lit corridors, following the faint sound of your heartbeat, a skill both brothers had perfected over the years. The closer they got, the louder your heartbeat became, each rapid thump a painful reminder of the danger you were facing.

Meanwhile, you darted around the corner, your breathing shallow as you tried to stay quiet. But Mikael was relentless, his pace unwavering as he followed the trail of your scent. Every door you passed, every hallway you ducked into, seemed to only draw him closer.

“Do you really think you can outrun me?” Mikael’s voice echoed down the corridor, cold and taunting. “You may look like her, but you are not Katherine. You’re weaker, more… vulnerable.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you clutched your phone tightly, hoping that Damon and Stefan were close. You could feel your strength waning, the adrenaline beginning to fade as the reality of your situation set in. But you knew you couldn’t let him see your fear.

You turned to face him, standing tall despite the tremor in your hands. “I’m not afraid of you, Mikael.”

He chuckled darkly, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Brave words for someone so… fragile. I’ve taken down creatures far stronger than you.”

Damon and Stefan moved swiftly through the winding corridors of Mystic Falls High, their steps purposeful and their expressions set with determination. You were out there, facing Mikael alone, and every second counted. Nothing mattered more than reaching you. Their thoughts were focused solely on getting to you before Mikael had a chance to harm you.

But as they turned a corner in the empty hallway, they came face-to-face with none other than Klaus, Elijah, and Kol. The Mikaelson brothers stood there, blocking their path, each wearing an expression that ranged from mild curiosity to amusement.

“Where are you two rushing off to in such a hurry?” Klaus asked, his voice light but laced with intrigue. “Don’t tell me there’s trouble brewing at the Mystic Falls High prom.”

Damon shot him a dark look, jaw clenched. “We don’t have time for this, Klaus. Get out of our way.”

Kol smirked, stepping closer, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “What’s the urgency, boys? You seem… tense. Care to share?”

Stefan cast a quick glance down the hall, clearly itching to move past them. “This isn’t any of your business. We need to go.”

But Elijah, with his usual composed demeanor, raised an eyebrow. “If this concerns Mystic Falls and involves my father, I’d say it is our business. What’s going on?”

Damon’s patience snapped. “Mikael’s after Y/N. She’s out there, alone, and we’re not wasting another second talking about it.”

Klaus’s smile faded instantly, replaced by a look of concern, and something else that flickered briefly in his eyes, something dark and protective. He exchanged a quick glance with his brothers, and for once, the usual rivalry between the Salvatores and the Mikaelsons seemed to fade.

“If Mikael’s after Y/N,” Klaus said, his voice low and dangerous, “then you’ll need all the help you can get. She’s valuable to us, too.”

Damon sneered, clearly unconvinced by the sudden show of camaraderie. “Right, because you care so much. Spare us the act, Klaus.”

But Elijah stepped forward, his gaze earnest. “This isn’t an act. Mikael’s vendetta is reckless and cruel, and if Y/N’s caught in his crossfire, it affects us all. Let us help.”

For a tense moment, Damon and Stefan stood there, sizing up the Originals. They knew the Mikaelsons had their own motives, but this wasn’t the time to argue. You were in danger, and any delay only gave Mikael more time to close in on you.

Finally, Stefan gave a quick nod. “Fine. But stay out of our way.”

Without waiting for a response, Damon and Stefan turned and resumed their sprint, and the Mikaelsons followed, their footsteps falling in sync as they raced through the school, united in a rare truce for the sake of protecting you.

As they approached the science wing, Damon’s ears picked up on a faint, familiar heartbeat, yours. It was rapid, but strong, and it propelled him forward even faster. When they rounded the corner, they spotted you at the end of the hall, trapped between Mikael and a row of lockers, his looming figure casting a shadow over you.

In an instant, the Salvatores and the Mikaelsons moved as one. Damon and Stefan surged forward, drawing Mikael’s attention away from you, while Elijah and Klaus moved to your side, each taking a protective stance in front of you.

Mikael turned, his expression twisting with disdain as he faced the five men now blocking his path. “Well, isn’t this a touching little reunion,” he sneered. “The Salvatore brothers and my wayward children, all coming together for a mortalgirl.”

Damon’s eyes blazed, his voice a deadly growl. “Call her that again, and you’ll regret it.”

Klaus smirked, a glint of satisfaction in his gaze as he added, “You always did underestimate the people we care about, Father. But tonight, you’re going to regret it.”

Mikael’s face darkened, but before he could respond, Kol lunged forward with supernatural speed, striking the first blow. The others followed suit, surrounding Mikael in a whirlwind of force, each blow fierce and unyielding. Damon and Stefan fought side by side with the Mikaelsons, their combined strength holding Mikael at bay, pushing him back with every strike.

Meanwhile, Elijah turned to you, his voice gentle despite the chaos. “Are you hurt?”

You shook your head, still catching your breath. “No… but thank you.”

He nodded, a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “Stay behind us. We won’t let him near you again.”

Klaus threw a look over his shoulder, his voice laced with unexpected concern. “Get her out of here, Elijah. We’ll handle this.”

But you stepped forward, determination flaring in your eyes. “I’m not leaving any of you to face him alone. He came here for me, and I won’t run.”

Damon, catching the exchange, shot you a quick look, his expression both exasperated and protective. “Stubborn as ever, aren’t you?” he muttered, though there was a hint of admiration in his voice.

Finally, with one final, powerful blow from Klaus, Mikael staggered back, his eyes blazing with anger. He took a moment to assess the line of his enemies, his gaze moving from the Salvatores to the Mikaelsons, before he gave a cold, bitter laugh.

“You think this is over?” he sneered, locking eyes with each of you. “This girl is a weakness, a liability. She’ll be the end of you all.”

With that, Mikael disappeared into the shadows, his promise lingering ominously in the air.

As silence fell, Damon turned to you, his shoulders relaxing as he took in the sight of you, safe and unharmed. He moved toward you, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “Next time, don’t run off without us. Got it?”

You managed a shaky smile. “Got it.”

Stefan gave you a gentle smile, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “We’re glad you’re okay.”

Klaus watched the exchange, his expression thoughtful, though he quickly masked it with his usual cool demeanor. “Looks like we’re all a bit protective, aren’t we?”

Damon glanced at Klaus, the usual animosity softened, if only for the moment. “This doesn’t mean we’re friends, Klaus. But… thanks.”

Klaus smirked, giving a nod. “Trust me, Salvatore, it’s a one-time alliance. But you’re welcome.”

With that, the Mikaelsons turned, disappearing down the hall, leaving you and the Salvatores in a rare, quiet moment. Stefan pulled you close, and Damon wrapped his arm around you, a silent promise of protection.

As you walked out of the school, flanked by the Salvatores, you felt a sense of gratitude and belonging. No matter what threats loomed, you knew you weren’t alone, and with Damon and Stefan by your side, you could face anything.

The night was finally quiet as you stood in the empty school parking lot with Damon and Stefan by your side, each of them visibly relieved that you were safe. After everything that had happened, you felt an overwhelming wave of gratitude and affection for them, and without a second thought, you pulled both of them into a warm, thankful hug.

Damon’s arms wrapped around you first, holding you protectively, while Stefan smiled softly, his hand resting gently on your shoulder. For a moment, everything felt right, a rare moment of peace in Mystic Falls. But just as you closed your eyes, letting the safety of their embrace sink in, a voice cut through the silence, sending a chill down your spine.

As you walked out of the school with Damon and Stefan on either side, a sense of calm finally settled over you. The night had been intense, terrifying even, but you had made it through with them by your side. Their presence grounded you, and the silent comfort they offered was all you needed. You came to a stop, turning to face both of them, and a small smile spread across your face.

“Thank you,” you whispered, wrapping your arms around both of them in a warm embrace. It was a moment you had needed, to feel safe, supported, and understood. Damon rested his chin on your head, his usual smirk replaced by a rare, soft expression, while Stefan’s arms wrapped protectively around you.

But the moment was short-lived.

A familiar voice, smooth and taunting, cut through the quiet, sending a chill down your spine. “Well, isn’t this touching?”

You froze, your heart thudding as you slowly turned to see Katherine Pierce standing a few feet away, her lips curled into a smug smile as she took in the scene before her.

Damon and Stefan’s relaxed postures vanished instantly. They stepped in front of you, shielding you from Katherine as their gazes hardened. Damon crossed his arms, his tone sharp and suspicious. “Katherine. What are you doing back in town?”

Stefan’s eyes narrowed, his stance protective. “Last I heard, you had no reason to be here.”

Katherine ignored them, her eyes locking onto you with a look that was both intense and unnervingly affectionate. She took a step closer, her gaze appraising. “I came back for my daughter,” she said, her voice smooth but carrying a weight of finality. “And I’m not leaving without her.”

Your breath caught in your throat, her words settling heavily as the truth began to dawn on you. Daughter. The word echoed in your mind, sharp and disorienting. You glanced between Damon and Stefan, your shock mirrored in their expressions as they exchanged a stunned look.

Damon was the first to break the silence, his voice thick with disbelief and anger. “Wait. Your daughter? Since when do you have a daughter?”

Katherine’s smirk only deepened. “Oh, come now, Damon. Did you think my life began and ended with you two? There’s so much you don’t know.”

You took a shaky step forward, your eyes never leaving Katherine’s. “What… are you talking about?”

Katherine’s gaze softened, though there was a glint of something almost predatory in her eyes as she looked at you. “You’re my blood, Y/N. My own flesh and blood. You may have thought Elena was your only family, but there’s more to the story than anyone told you.”

Stefan’s voice was cold, his protective side flaring as he stepped closer to you. “If this is some twisted game, Katherine, it ends now. She’s been through enough tonight.”

Katherine held her hands up in mock innocence, a hint of amusement in her gaze. “Oh, don’t worry, Stefan. I don’t intend to hurt her. Quite the opposite, in fact. I want her to come with me, to leave this dull little town behind and be a part of something bigger.”

Damon’s eyes narrowed, a mix of anger and suspicion clouding his expression. “After everything you’ve put us through, you expect us to just hand her over to you?”

Katherine let out a low chuckle. “I don’t expect anything from you, Damon. But Y/N deserves to know the truth. She deserves to know who she really is.”

Your heart pounded as you stared at Katherine, every instinct telling you to be wary, yet something in her gaze drew you in. There was a strange familiarity in her face, a resemblance you had always ignored, but now couldn’t deny. The way her eyes sparkled, the way her smirk mirrored your own… it was like seeing pieces of yourself in someone else.

But confusion and hurt welled up within you, and you shook your head, taking a step back. “Why now? Why would you show up now, after all these years, and claim to be my mother?”

Katherine’s expression softened, but there was still a calculating edge to her gaze. “Because, my dear, I’ve kept my distance to protect you. But things have changed.“

Damon clenched his fists, stepping between you and Katherine once more, his voice filled with a dark warning. “If you think we’ll let you just waltz in and drag her into your mess, you’re delusional. She’s not going anywhere with you.”

Stefan’s eyes darkened, his protective instincts kicking in as he placed a steadying hand on your shoulder. “She has a life here, Katherine. Friends, people who care about her. You can’t just claim her like a prize and expect her to follow you.”

Katherine arched an eyebrow, her tone sharp. “Oh, but I can. Because I am her mother, and I’ve done everything in my power to keep her hidden from the dangers that haunt my life. Unlike you, I’m willing to do whatever it takes to keep her safe.”

You swallowed hard, emotions swirling inside you, fear, anger, disbelief, and something you couldn’t quite place. A strange curiosity that tugged at the edges of your mind. You looked at Damon and Stefan, their faces set with determination, a silent promise that they wouldn’t let Katherine take you without a fight. But part of you couldn’t help but wonder if there was truth to Katherine’s words.

“What if… what if she’s telling the truth?” you whispered, barely able to get the words out.

Stefan looked down at you, his expression softening as he saw the confusion in your eyes. “Y/N, whatever she’s saying, you don’t have to go with her. You don’t owe her anything.”

Damon’s gaze flickered with a protective intensity as he nodded in agreement. “She’s lied more times than I can count. She’s only ever looked out for herself.”

But Katherine’s voice broke through, filled with conviction. “You may not trust me, but you can’t deny the truth of who you are. Y/N, you’re stronger than you know, and I’m the only one who can help you tap into that power. I can teach you things these two never could.”

The offer hung in the air, and Katherine’s gaze never wavered as she held her hand out to you, an invitation and a challenge. “Come with me, Y/N. Let me show you what you’re truly capable of.”

You stared at her outstretched hand, a part of you tempted by the mystery she promised to reveal. But as you glanced at Damon and Stefan, standing resolutely by your side, their loyalty and love a constant reminder of the life you had built here, you felt torn.

With a shaky breath, you looked Katherine in the eye, your voice steadier than you felt. “Maybe you are my mother. Maybe there’s a part of me that wants to know more… but I’m not going anywhere with you. I belong here, with people who care about me.”

Damon placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, his voice full of quiet pride. “She made her choice, Katherine. And it’s not you.”

Katherine’s face hardened, her gaze flicking between the three of you. “Fine,” she spat, her voice laced with venom. “But don’t think this is over. You may feel safe now, but one day, you’ll need me. And when that day comes, don’t expect the same kindness I’m offering now.”

With a final, piercing look, Katherine spun on her heel, disappearing into the shadows, leaving a cold silence in her wake.

You stood there, your mind still racing, and Stefan wrapped his arm around you, his warmth a balm against the lingering chill Katherine left behind. “You don’t have to face this alone, Y/N,” he murmured. “We’re here. Always.”

Damon gave you a reassuring smile, his arm slinging protectively around your shoulders. “And if Katherine comes back? She’ll have to go through us first.”

As the Salvatores led you into your house, you could barely hold back the flood of emotions that threatened to overwhelm you. The events of the night, the encounter with Mikael, the terrifying chase, and Katherine’s bombshell revelation, had left you feeling raw and exposed. Damon kept a gentle hand on your back as you walked through the door, while Stefan lingered beside you, offering silent support.

Once inside, you caught a glimpse of Elena waiting in the living room. She rose to her feet the moment she saw you, concern etched across her face, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at her. Without a word, you brushed past her, tears gathering in your eyes as you hurried up the stairs. You heard her call your name, but you just couldn’t deal with her questions or confusion right now. All you wanted was a moment alone to process the whirlwind of emotions tearing through you.

Elena’s face fell as she watched you disappear upstairs, her brow furrowing in confusion. She turned her gaze toward Damon and Stefan, who remained in the entryway, both of them looking grim and exhausted. She crossed her arms, an angry spark flaring in her eyes. “Alright,” she demanded, her voice sharp. “What happened? Why is my sister—no, my twin—crying?”

Damon sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair, clearly in no mood for another confrontation. “Elena, it’s been a long night. Maybe we can talk about this in the morning.”

But Elena wasn’t having it. She planted herself firmly in front of them, blocking their path as her gaze darted between the two brothers. “No. I want answers. You two were supposed to protect her, and now she’s up there crying her heart out! What did you do?”

Stefan’s jaw tightened, his usual calm demeanor wavering as he glanced up the stairs, clearly worried about you. He looked back at Elena, his tone soft but steady. “It wasn’t us, Elena. Katherine showed up tonight.”

Elena blinked, taken aback, and for a moment, her angry expression faltered. “Katherine?” She let out an exasperated sigh. “What does she have to do with any of this?”

Damon’s eyes darkened, his expression guarded. “She’s the reason Y/N was crying. Katherine… she told her something. Something that none of us saw coming.”

Elena rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed. “What, that she has some new plan to ruin our lives? Or that she’s out to hurt us all again?” She crossed her arms tighter, an edge of skepticism in her voice.

Stefan took a step closer, his expression serious. “No, Elena. She told Y/N that she’s her mother.”

Elena’s mouth dropped open, and then she let out a short, incredulous laugh. “What? You can’t be serious. That’s just… Katherine being Katherine. She’s playing one of her twisted games, and you two actually believe her?”

Damon crossed his arms, his gaze steady. “We don’t know for sure, but it hit Y/N hard. Katherine told her she came back specifically because Mikael was after her, and that the only reason she stayed away this long was to protect her.”

Elena scoffed, rolling her eyes again. “And you actually think that’s true? Katherine only looks out for herself. She’s lied to all of us more times than I can count. This is just another manipulation tactic to get under Y/N’s skin, and clearly, it worked.”

Stefan looked at her, a flicker of frustration in his usually composed expression. “It’s not that simple, Elena. Katherine seemed… different. She was cold, but there was something else in her eyes when she looked at Y/N. Something real. And Y/N feels it too, even if she doesn’t know what to make of it.”

Elena’s eyes blazed with anger as she shook her head, disbelief twisting her features. “So, let me get this straight. Katherine shows up, spins some ridiculous story about being Y/N’s mother, and you two just… believe her? She’s doing this to mess with her head, to make her doubt herself, and you’re playing right into it.”

Damon’s face hardened, his voice dropping to a dangerous calm. “Elena, believe what you want, but you didn’t see the way Y/N reacted. She’s not just upset, she’s questioning everything about her life right now. Katherine got to her in a way none of us expected, and if there’s even a chance that she’s telling the truth, then Y/N has the right to know.”

Elena let out a frustrated noise, pacing back and forth. “She has a family, me, and she’s letting Katherine, of all people, get inside her head. It’s exactly what Katherine wants! You two were supposed to protect her from people like her, not indulge in her twisted mind games.”

Stefan’s patience seemed to wear thin as he stepped closer to Elena, his tone firm. “We’re trying to protect her, Elena. But this isn’t just some lie we can brush off. For Y/N, this is about her identity. Whether it’s true or not, she deserves the space to figure it out without us dismissing her feelings.”

Elena’s expression hardened, and she shot them both an accusatory glare. “So, what, you’re just going to let Katherine manipulate her, twist her around until she doesn’t know who she is? I thought you cared about her.”

Damon’s eyes flared with anger, his voice sharp. “We do care, Elena. That’s why we’re letting her make her own choices. She’s strong, stronger than you’re giving her credit for. This isn’t about controlling her; it’s about giving her the support she needs.”

Elena scoffed, disbelief still evident in her tone. “Right. Support. By letting Katherine just walk into her life and saying that My twin is her daughter.”

Stefan shook his head, his voice calm but unyielding. “Elena, if you want to help, then be there for her when she’s ready to talk. She needs her family right now, and that includes you. But we can’t ignore the possibility that there’s more to her story than we know.”

Elena opened her mouth to protest, but before she could say anything, a quiet sound drifted down from the stairs, a muffled sob, barely audible but enough to pierce through the tense silence in the room.

All three of them paused, their gazes turning toward the stairs. The anger in Elena’s expression softened, replaced by a flicker of worry as she listened to the sound of your crying. A moment passed, and she let out a long breath, her shoulders slumping slightly as she seemed to grapple with her frustration and concern.

Damon glanced at her, his tone softening. “She’s up there, questioning everything she thought she knew. We’re not asking you to believe Katherine, we’re just asking you to be there for her, to understand what she’s going through.”

Elena looked at him, her expression conflicted, but finally nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “Fine. I’ll… try. But I don’t trust Katherine, and neither should any of you.”

Stefan gave her a small, reassuring nod. “None of us trust her, Elena. But right now, Y/N needs us to support her. We’ll deal with Katherine later.”

With a final, wary look, Elena relented, letting the tension slip from her posture. Damon and Stefan exchanged a relieved glance, and with a quiet sigh, they moved toward the stairs to check on you, hoping that when the time came, all of you could face the truth together, whatever it turned out to be.

[austennerdita2533]

@sekretny friend, I need you to explain all the reasons you paired invisible string with emma x knightley? I want to crawl into your brain, please share your thought and vibes 😭❤️

Well, of course! Since you asked so nicely, I’d be happy to give you a window into my thought process. :D

(Had to answer you here because this got way too long!)

SO. I think the main reason I paired ‘invisible string’ with Emma and Knightley is because the song, as a whole, feels reflective to me. Wistful. Experiential. An echo of love that follows along as well as points you, like an arrow, back to where you belong. 

It’s a full circle tune, beginning and ending in Centennial Park, which tells the story of a relationship over time. A friendship that becomes more, perhaps. Or will. One that evolves in increments - subtly, of course - with the changing seasons and the “barbed wire” mistakes that are tended to with care, concern, and genuine affection. It’s this idea that unconditional love has been the underlying “thread” or “string” between them all along. And it’s been there from the start. 

That, to me, is what Emma and Knightley have always had. They’re friends and neighbors. They’re confidants. They have good rapport. He sees her for who she is - graces, faults, and all; she values his opinion more than anyone else’s and always strives to do better when she knows she’s erred. They bicker, naturally, (which is part verbal foreplay, part challenge to grow), but there’s an ease and familiarity between them that allows for frankness. For authenticity. There’s no pretense in their dynamic whatsoever, they’re simply free and open to be themselves no matter what. And the fact that they genuinely like and respect each other at face value is the “invisible string” that binds them together. It’s the base, the sturdy foundation, on which their love is built--allowing them to elevate from friends to lovers with the naturalness of a released breath. 

This song is also about the passage of time, with someone looking back at significant moments they’ve shared with someone they’ve known for a long time. For years and years. (Centennial Park --> The yogurt shop --> First trip to LA --> Getting lunch down by the lakes --> That dive bar --> Centennial Park again) It’s about two people being tethered together since they first met - in a soft, understated, maybe even unobserved way - and one of them is only now realizing the truth of it all. What they are to each other, what they have. Where they’ve journeyed apart to get here, now. How special and “pretty it is to think” that something invisible could have been working behind the scenes this whole time to pull them together. 

There’s a sort of epiphanic feel, mid-song, where one of them is finally deigning to ask, “Were there clues I didn’t see?” And the best part about it is that the question is rhetorical. Why? Because the answer is “one single thread of gold tied me to you”  and they know that now. THEY CAN SEE IT. FINALLY.  So here they are, in this reflective headspace, tracing it backward and forward, letting it burn their retinas in shades of gold.

I think this song fits particularly well with Emma, who, while quite taken up with other people’s romantic sensibilities, takes almost the whole novel before she evaluates her own feelings for Mr. Knightley. However, once she does, after she probes the inner-workings of her own heart, she realizes he’s been there, waiting to be discovered, yet also never to be removed, the whole time. 

Likewise, Mr. Knightley had to endure the agony of suffering in silence. The passage of time is excruciating for a man who must love and admire in secret, never at liberty to speak, watching the years roll by like monotonous hills. For him, the thread was already apparent and he was following it--only at a longing distance--while Emma remained oblivious.

In a way, Emma and Mr. Knightley each had to grow to acknowledge, as well as express, the “invisible” regard they harbored for one another, so that’s why I love this song for them. 

[witchhazelevesque]

Hazel should have been involved. Like if it had to come down to a trio then Leo, Piper and Hazel.

Hazel could have weakened Gaea so much more than any of the others, it could have been a whole maze like situation, a shrinking down and going into someone’s body trope if need be.

There was so much potential for an interesting setting as the enemy was the literal planet they stood on. Gaea’s plan was to destroy the gods by pulling them up by the roots? Then that’s what Hazel does to her.

Maybe Percy and Annabeth get all the campers they can into Long Island Sound so the sea will offer some protection. Maybe Frank and Jason take to the sky to offer air support.

Maybe Nico and Reyna combine their waning strength to open a tunnel to the Underworld to shelter some of the demigods that were too far from the water.

Maybe the most ridiculed cabins Hypnos and Aphrodite mix their magics to put the other campers to sleep so that Gaea’s suffocation happens slower and they have to put their faith in the seven of the prophecy.

This started with the lost trio and I love them, but there is something heart breaking about all the trios being divided for this final battle.

Jason unable to reach Piper and Leo; Percy and Frank and Hazel all separated from one another.

The idea of humanity could have played a really significant role here. Piper and Leo were friends before the gods got involved. Hazel and Leo’s souls are connected through mortal and mythic means: their families and their roles as the demigods who defeat Gaea.

In canon, Leo dedicates defeating Gaea to his mother. She would have been his tether if he were to walk into the River Styx, she was his home, she was the very embodiment of human love for him. Imagine Leo, who has been so focused on girls and women as romantic partners for the sake of feeling like he is loved and belonging somewhere, facing his destiny with two girls who are his platonic soul mates, the memory of his mother in his mind and knowing that whatever comes next, he is going to be okay.

Imagine Piper, who is learning to embrace all aspects of herself, both mortal and magic, her flaws and her strengths and her notions of love. Imagine this girl who has always had to hold on so tightly to everyone she loves, having to let go of her friend but knowing this is how it has to be.

Imagine Hazel, who has sacrificed and waited and lost so much to this goddess. Imagine her surrounded by her enemy, but not like she was when she died, not crushed and choking but safe by her own hands, keeping her friends safe like she couldn’t with her mother. Imagine her knowing that this enemy that hurt her and her family so deeply was about to get her due.

Imagine Leo, bearing the weight of this curse of fire from his father, using the strength he learned from his mother, and relinquishing it now, suffusing it into the very earth around him. Imagine him giving all he is, his physical body burning away, this fire inside of himself that is somehow powerful enough to stop a primordial goddess and his consciousness set to spread across the world to engage in an eternal conflict with Gaea. He is willing to hold her back in this form for the rest of time if he must, because that’s how long his love for his friends and family will last.

Imagine his sacrifice being so much deeper than they all anticipated. Imagine his surprise when he wakes up sound of mind, if not of body, in Elysium. Because two such powerful magic wielders as Piper and Hazel would not allow Gaea to take all of him. She can have his fire but not his soul. Piper has called back souls from Erebus, she can send one there as well. The earth and the dead are Hazel’s birthright, and she takes them now.

It is somber in the mortal world. The land is in ruin, but it is still.

The people mourn, but they could have lost so much more.

There are many reunions, but some must wait.

—————

Okay, I have to actually write this now.

Why I don't like the last Gaea battle

Only 3 of the 7 prophecied demigods actually helped defeat her (Technically only 2, since Jason was just transport)

It was way too short (Leo admits it lasted only 40secs)

Piper's charmspeak shouldn't have worked (many gods have ignored it before. Gaea is more powerful than them)

Couldn't Leo have blown up Gaea without her sleeping?

It was too physical (a bomb? To defeat a primordal goddess? Seriously?)

Leo didn't die (look I adore Leo, but him dying permenantly would be much more impactful)

[blade-liger-4ever]

Comic Analysis: Toxic and Healthy Relationships, Part 2 - Green Lantern

Hello, faithful readers! Well, it’s certainly been a while since I last made an analytical post. As you may recall, I made a previous analysis delving into Moon Knight’s two most well-known love interests, where I hinted at another post analyzing relationships. Well, after watching two different animated Wonder Woman films with a friend the other day, said friend sent me an article analyzing Wonder Woman, where Green Lantern/Hal Jordan - who also so happens to be my favorite GL - was mentioned in passing.

That reminded me of my desire/need to write a post detailing the toxicity of Hal’s longest running romance (as well as his driest), and the healthiness of, quite possibly, his most overlooked romance. Once more, I do not have a diehard’s knowledge of the OG comics, nor the experience of reading them firsthand. I do, however, have my own opinions and thoughts on what I’ve read/watched/researched. So, please take this post as that: my personal take on Hal Jordan’s romantic life, which you are free to accept or reject.

Now, without further ado, let’s get into the thick of it.

The Toxic Relationship with Carol Ferris

Carol Ferris, for those not in the know, is the owner of Ferris Aircraft in the DC Universe. Taking over her father’s company, Carol was, arguably, one of the few women to head her own company, even if it was handed down from her beloved father. Because she was in charge of her father’s company, Carol was often curt, to the point, and business-like, rarely being more open than necessary. Despite this, she struck up an odd, rocky relationship with one of her employees - an excellent pilot by the name of Hal Jordan. However, while they were enamored by each other, it was for the wrong reasons.

Now, to understand why this relationship is toxic, I need to explain a bit about Hal and Carol as people. To begin with, Hal is the self-assured pilot; he’s the best of the best, adventurous, daring, and selfless. However, Hal’s most notable trait is his love of flying. The man cannot get enough of it, as his backstory shows in heartbreaking detail how the sky called to him and his father, Martin Jordan. This shared interest brought Hal and Martin together in a way that the rest of their family couldn’t understand, and so when Martin died in a test accident, Hal was left completely alone. Driven by a need to learn who his father had been, Hal desperately grabbed anything relating to the air, causing a severe rift between him, his older brother, and his mother, who was terrified of losing her son as she had his father.

The reason I bring up this part of Hal’s backstory, readers, is because it offers an insight to his personal life and secret wish. For, despite being freed from the chains of the earth, Hal is always looking for someone who he can come back to, who will be a stable and loving tether in an otherwise hectic and pained life. And so Hal, acting on that subconscious need - as well as a childhood crush - pursued Carol. After having such a tumultuous life from at least the age of ten, Hal was searching for a sense of stability. He needs someone who he could rely on and know would be there for him, and he thought Carol could provide that.

Carol, despite her contentment in owning Ferris Aircraft, felt bound by the desk and paperwork she dealt with twenty-four/seven. She longed for a release from the dull, monotonous routine she inherited, although she wouldn’t let it go for love of her father. But seeing Hal Jordan/Green Lantern’s complete and utter freedom attracted Carol more than anything. Carol craved that same liberty of worry and boredom, desiring a life of excitement over remaining trapped inside an office day in and day out. And so, falling for the freedom he offered, Carol chased the dream she wanted to live.

Needless to say, this is not a healthy relationship. It’s more of an infatuation than anything else. There are two additional facets to their romance that makes it unattainable, although I will share some pieces from the original comics before I expand upon that.

Now, it’s not explicitly stated here, but for any big company/celebrity from 1900 on up until at least the 80s, marrying someone of a more blue-collar background was considered...unseemly, shall we say. Marrying, or even dating, someone such as a secretary or employee when you were - oh I don’t know, a billionaire or CEO - was seen as lowering yourself to a standard below what you were raised to/worked to get above. And since Hal was literally Carol’s employee, not only would that have been an affront to possible investors and an insult to her family, but Carol would have also been accused of favoritism, while Hal likely would have suffered extreme ridicule for daring to chase someone of a "higher” walk of life.

In essence, Hal and Carol fell in love not with each other, but with the idea that the other represented.

The Healthy Relationship with Kari Limbo

Now, Kari is a lesser-known love interest of Hal’s from his infamous run with Green Arrow from the early 70s. A psychic Romani woman, Kari had previously dated Guy Gardner (yes, you read that correctly, but believe it or not, Guy wasn’t always a pill. That came later, and I’d rather not get into the muddiness of that particular sliver of trivia.) After Hal met with Kari to inform her of Guy’s apparent death, the two spent time together before falling in love. Kari loved him so much, in fact, that she accompanied not only Green Lantern on his adventures, but also Green Arrow and Black Canary. Heck, she even got to be on nigh sisterly terms with Black Canary, casually calling the superheroine Dinah when the ladies’ men were away on some mission.

Kari is shown to be a patient and understanding woman. She is supportive of Hal, encourages him in his moments of uncertainty, and remains with him through many stories. Kari never abandons Hal, instead choosing to be present for him and help him through whatever is troubling him. She loves Hal for his sacrificing nature, his strength of character, and his protective concern for her. In a way, I believe Hal gives Kari a sense of belonging; I do not recall if we ever saw people from her past, but Hal allows her to feel at home with him. He provides her with the necessary qualities to begin a shared life with him, something she longs for - just as Hal longs for a woman who he can come back to every day. Hal and Kari have the same goals for eternal love and companionship, and that is why, near the end of the run, Kari proposes marriage to Hal (hot dog, Hal, you were moving too slow for her!)

Unfortunately, comic writers feel compelled to keep their heroes single, and so Hal and Kari’s wedding was cut short. It’s truly a shame, as Hal deserves to get married and live a happy life, just as Kari deserves to be a loving wife to him. I dearly wish she and Hal were together in the modern day, as their dynamic borders a fairytale romance in its beauty. They are truly underrated, and I believe they should be married, especially since the writers of today focus on the stale and toxic relationship with Carol.

Well, I believe I’ve said my piece on the matter. I don’t know if there will be a third installment to this series of mine. Perhaps there will be, but it will have to be one riveting romance to catch my attention. Then again, I can feel the gears in my head turning...

Farewell, fellow Lanterns! I hope you enjoyed my article!

[memxntomxri]

𝚏𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚕𝚎

𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝟮 | 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 | 𝗵𝗼𝗺𝗲

𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 - bisexual!hinata shouyou x gn!reader, hinata shouyou x miya atsumu

𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦 - angst, break up

𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘤 - hinata shouyou is trustworthy - with everything except for your heart

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 - 2.4k words

𝘵𝘸 - slightly descriptive nsfw?, cheating (i'm sorry to be doing my children hinata and atsumu dirty this way but this got stuck in my head 😭), major angst, break-up, no happy ending, lots and lots of crying, lots and lots of reader's internal thoughts, atsumu is an asshole

𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘴 - this is the result of brainrot i had stuck in my head after reading chapter 18 of SabbyWrites' A Study in Depravity. HAIKYUU BOYS ARE NOT CHEATERS - I REPEAT, HAIKYUU BOYS ARE NOT CHEATERS. BISEXUAL PEOPLE ARE ALSO NOT CHEATERS. i just couldn't resist writing this lmao

also, i'm doing my best to make this a gender-neutral reader, but it might lean more towards AFAB/non-binary readers since i'm both ashelkgjkdlkjf male-identifying readers i'm sorry

thanks @meiansmistress, lou (LouEve_094 on ao3), lena, and emmy (Noisy_Emmy on ao3) for betaing! your feedback helped me a lot

𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙤𝙧𝙨 𝙙𝙣𝙞 - there are some descriptive scenes of smut in here 👀 shoo, shoo

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Hinata Shouyou is trustworthy.

You know this.

It's the reason you met, after all.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

The summer you moved to Miyagi, following your father's dream of teaching in a little town similar to the one he lived in as a child, you were unhappy. Who could blame you, after all? You had a comfortable life back in Osaka, and unlike your father, you were a city dweller at heart. It was also the middle of your first year of high school—who wanted to transfer schools, let alone across prefectures, in the middle of a school year?

It was hot in Miyagi, and when the moving truck broke down on the side of the road, the entire family piled out and sat on the curb. Just your father (who you were still mad at), your mother, and you. That was what it had always been. Sure, you had friends, but somehow the friendships never got too deep. You were willing to bet that within a month, there would be no texts other than the occasional New Year's greeting or "happy birthday" from your so-called friends back in Osaka.

And don't even get you started on romantic relationships. It wasn't that you weren't attractive, or that you weren't easy to get along with—it was just that there was never anybody. Yes, you had liked people before, but nothing had ever come of it.

Your mother piped up, saving you from your dark thoughts about the state of your relationships with other people. "Y/n, love, can you go back down the hill again? I think we saw a konbini a bit that way, please buy some cool drinks." she says, depositing coins in your outstretched hand. Oh well, something to do, you supposed.

You strolled casually down the road, sweating buckets. When you pushed open the doors of the konbini—Sakanoshita Store, you noted, it definitely didn’t look like a konbini—opened, you basked in the cold air of the air conditioner for a bit. As you stood there, looking a bit dumb with your arms outstretched, you felt a weight barrel into you from behind.

With a bang, you fell forward, the weight landing on your back. "Ow!" you cried, rubbing your right wrist, which had unceremoniously made contact with the ground, pain shooting up the limb. You twisted around to glare at whatever had so unceremoniously bowled you over. You were met with the sight of wide, brown eyes and flushed cheeks. "Sorry!" the boy squeaked, getting off of you quickly. "So sorry!" You frowned and got up.

"Watch where you’re going, okay?" You were a few centimeters taller than him, you noted.

He started blabbering, talking about how he needed to get the first-aid kit because a "Stingyshima" had "accidentally" ran into "Bakageyama" and this "Bakageyama" now had a bleeding knee and that he was the fastest runner in their volleyball club (he was strangely emphatic about this point). By the time he was finished rambling, you were chuckling slightly. It was obvious that he hadn't meant anything by running into you, and it was actually kind of endearing how earnestly he was trying to explain himself.

You held up a hand, stopping him from continuing to ramble. "Y-you aren't mad, right?" he asked anxiously. You smiled and shook your head slightly. "It seems your team trusts you to help take care of your friend, so why don't you grab the first-aid kit and go help him?" You suggested gently.

He nodded quickly and darted behind the counter, grabbing a white box. As he jogged away, he seemed to remember something and turned around to holler at you. "My name's Hinata Shouyou! I'm a first year!" he introduced himself in a bright voice.

Just inside the konbini, a small smile slipped across your face.

Hinata Shouyou, huh. He seemed nice.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Hinata Shouyou is trustworthy.

It's the reason you fell in love with him.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

The first day of school, you meet Hinata Shouyou again. And again. And again. He somehow seems to pop up everywhere you go—not that you're complaining, he's entertaining and nice—and soon, you think you can count yourself as his friend.

You go to his game against Aoba Johsai, then Shiratorizawa, then you're hugging him as he jumps up and down, celebrating their win. That’s the first time your heart jumps when you look at him, haloed by the lights of the gym.

Slowly, you feel yourself falling in love with him. Not just falling for him, no, because Hinata Shouyou will not let anyone do anything in halves, especially not falling in love. Shouyou, to you, (because by then you were on first-name basis) is someone you can rely on, someone that is always there, like the sun, trustworthy.

And because he is always there, it's also easy to confess to him in your second year. You know him well enough by now to know that even if he doesn't feel the same, nothing would change about your friendship except for the addition of unspoken words. And you think that he might love you back, if the lingering glances and brighter smiles are any indication.

Your guess is right, and by New Year's break, the two of you are a happy couple.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Hinata Shouyou is trustworthy.

It's why you let him go, if only for a little bit.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

When Shouyou left for Brazil, you took a break from each other. To be honest, it was your idea.

It wasn't that you didn't think that you couldn't trust him ten thousand kilometers away—it was that you knew you would hold him back. He was going to Brazil to chase his dream, and having a tether to his hometown would only slow him down. It hurt, having to say goodbye at the airport, but somehow the two of you got through it.

You still talked—a little more than "just friends" should—but you were careful not to let him think that you were together.

Shouyou was meant for greater things, and back then, as an insecure, just-barely-adult going into medical school, you weren't sure if you fit into the picture.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Hinata Shouyou is trustworthy.

It's the reason why you let him back in.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

When Shouyou returns from Brazil, the first person he visits is you. You, all the way out in Osaka, pushing yourself to your limits as you study for med school. When you open your door and see him standing there, smiling as bright as ever, you fall into his arms—both literally and metaphorically. It turns out, even two years later, you trust him to catch you.

It was all too natural for you and Shouyou to get back together, and by a stroke of luck, he joins the MSBY Black Jackals, right there in Osaka. You move in together, his slightly larger salary allowing the two of you to rent a bigger apartment.

Yes, it's hard work being in a relationship again, but you like having Shouyou to return to every night after your shift is over. You wake up early every morning to make the two of you breakfast and lunch, and Shouyou always has dinner waiting for you when you step back in the door, often also staying up so that you can talk.

You're content.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Hinata Shouyou is trustworthy.

It's the reason why you think nothing of his closeness with his teammates.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Shouyou has always been a people-magnet. Even back in high school, everyone loved him. Shouyou is bisexual. You know this. He’s always had more than enough love to give back, too, and his bisexuality had never impacted your relationship. Why should it, when you’re every bit as queer as him? Your relationship was strong, and you believed in it. That's why, at every team dinner that he takes you to, when someone else inevitably takes the seats next to him instead of you and you're relegated to a corner, you don't worry about it. Shouyou loves you, and it doesn't matter where you sit for a couple of hours.

Yes, Miya Atsumu is a bit aggressive whenever Shouyou compliments him, throwing a smirk over his shoulder at you triumphantly, but you chalk it to them being good friends and Miya-san wanting to get to know you better by having a little friendly competition, and that's okay.

Yes, Shouyou starts going out with his team more and more, but they're his team. He's supposed to be close with them.

Yes, you start to feel a little neglected, but it wasn't as if you were the most attentive back when you were still struggling through med school.

And anyways, Shouyou always makes time for the two of you on Saturdays, your designated date nights. You have trust in your relationship, in its rock-tight foundation built upon years of knowing each other.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Hinata Shouyou is trustworthy.

It's why you believe his words.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

One Friday, after an especially busy shift at the hospital that got cut short for you when a coworker unexpectedly came in to fill in for you, you decide to head home early and get some rest, maybe cuddle with Shouyou while watching those romcoms you both enjoy.

You had told him that you'd be home late that night, and you hoped that you could surprise him with some dinner. So, you swung by his favorite yakitori place and ordered dinner, driving home as fast as you safely could.

As you open the door to your apartment, you hear the distinctive sounds of sex, skin slapping on skin, grunts and moans, high keens. You frown. Maybe Shouyou was watching porn? He sometimes liked to get himself ready (the two of you enjoyed the occasional pegging) before you got home. You drop the food on the kitchen table and put your jacket on the hook.

"Love, I'm home!" you call out softly. No response.

Frowning deeper now, you move towards the bedroom door. Just as you're about to open it, you hear something that stops you cold.

"A-ah, Atsumu!" It's distinctively Shouyou's voice, and suddenly, you can't move anymore.

Shouyou, who told you you could make it through med school.

Shouyou, who made you yakisoba and miso soup whenever you were stuck studying.

Shouyou, who whispered sweet nothings in your ear every morning as the two of you made breakfast.

Shouyou, who is currently in bed with Miya fucking Atsumu.

You want to get up, you want to slam open the door, you want to demand answers, but somehow, you can't get your legs to budge from the spot in the ground they've rooted themselves to.

Then,

"Who do you love, Sho?" Atsumu growls.

Your heart skips a beat.

No.

No.

You pray to all the gods you know that what's about to pass Shouyou's lips will miraculously stay trapped in his throat, but it seems like the gods don't feel kind today.

"Y-you, Atsumu, you!" you hear Shouyou cry.

Your heart shatters into a million little kaleidoscopic pieces. Tears start running down your face, hot, involuntary, painful, because they represent the six years of a beautiful relationship down the drain, because nothing will ever be the same, because Shouyou is cheating on you.

Finally, your legs decide to move again. It seems like someone else is controlling your body as you walk towards the door, opening it with a shaking hand.

Shouyou is pinned down by Miya-san on the bed, legs thrown over his shoulder, as he slams into him.

The door bangs against the wall.

Shouyou looks up, and when he sees you, his face floods with guilt.

You don't say anything. You just stand there, tears flooding down your face, betrayal evident in your expression.

"Y-y/n!" he says. "I-I- I swear, this isn't-" he begins.

You cut him off. "I don't want to hear it, Shouyou." you spit.

Miya-san chuckles. "Who are we kidding, this is exactly what they think it is. What, did you think that you would be enough to satisfy Sho? You, with your infinitely busy schedule? You, who has no clue about volleyball?" he says, cutting into you.

"Atsumu, stop!" Shouyou says, frantic. He can tell that he's going to lose you, but he's not going to go down without a fight. "Babe, I love you, please-" he says, getting out of Miya-san's embrace and moving towards you. You sidestep him, holding a duffel bag with a change of clothes.

You stand there, looking at the scene, chuckling darkly inside your head. Just a scorned lover, a man, and his side-piece. You take a deep breath.

"You know, Shouyou, if you fell in love with someone else, you should've just told me. I trust you to be honest. I'm leaving—because even though you might love me, you're in love with Miya-san." you said.

Shouyou looks stricken with guilt, but you know it's from lying, not because he loves you anymore. Your laugh is broken and rough on the ears. "You think I didn't hear you? Oh, Shouyou, I heard more than enough. Have a nice life, and I hope that you remember how you broke me. I hope it fucking haunts you to the day of your death," you hurl at him.

Because even though at that moment you're screaming at him, you know that you still love him, that you’ll always will love him, and that you will carry this scar for the rest of your life. And even though you love him enough to leave now, to let him be with the person he loves—you still have enough love for yourself to hope that he bears some of the weight of this horrible, messy end too.

And with that, you walk out the door.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

But you're wrong.

Hinata Shouyou might love Miya Atsumu, but he still loves you more.

Years later, looking back, he comprehends that he didn't just break you. As he stares at his empty apartment, devoid of a lover—because what you said was true, he still carries the guilt, the memory of your tear-stained face, the recollections of your golden time together that ruined any relationship he might have had before it started, the echo of your absolute trust in him,

—Hinata Shouyou realizes he ruined himself too.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

© ʙᴇᴛʜᴇʏᴅᴏᴄʀɪᴍᴇᴡʀɪᴛᴇꜱ 2021 - ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴏʀ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴄʀᴇᴅɪᴛ

[idontwanttospoiltheparty]

@goodbye-home-demo

All right so basically, I've been chewing on the juxtaposition between Taylor clearly worshiping Love as a concept (and her own love/lover, specifically) and her frustrations expressed in Lavender Haze:

No deal! That 1950s shit they want from me / I just wanna stay in that lavender haze.

All they keep asking me is if I'm gonna be your bride / The only kind of girl they see is a one night or a wife.

Since Taylor otherwise really values her relationship (see: her entire post-1989 discography) and has even alluded to marriage positively in song (eg. Paper Rings, Lover) I think the issue she's expressing is less with her being viewed as a part of a relationship per se, and more with the way she's perceived within that relationship, namely she doesn't want to be seen as a passive participant in her own love story and specifically doesn't want people thinking that she's going to retire her creative work and "settle down".

But here's the thing, her creative work is very much tethered to her current relationship – and I think that's kind of the crux of it all.

Love and songwriting form a synergy within her – the fact that she has both expressed more joy than ever before, having found happiness with someone, as well as been on a creative roll in the last 6 years is not a coincidence. Contrary to her erstwhile fears that lasting happiness would lead her into a creative drought, it's actually opened up more doors than she could count.

Basically, I think that to her, one of the marks of a truly great love is it inspiring her to create.

(Also, I think it's noteworthy how Midnight Rain kind of portrays these passions as opposites and unable to coexist, and You're On Your Own, Kid describes them forming separately but eventually converging within her.)

It's interesting to me that she's used similar words to describe love in songs as she does to explain inspiration.

And there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you dear. — Lover (2019)

"I've never been able to fully… explain songwriting other than… It's like this little like glittery cloud floats in front of your face and you– you grab it at the right time." (x)

"My answer is always that it happens differently every time, and that's why I'm still so in love with songwriting." (x)

She's also outright written love songs directly referring to being inspired to create.

Lyrical smile, indigo eyes, hand on my thigh, we could follow the sparks, I'll drive. — I Think He Knows (2019)

And from the same song, this line, which, based on what she said, implies the same:

He got my heartbeat skipping down sixteenth avenue. — I Think He Knows (2019)

"I mention a street called 16th Avenue, and that's a street in Nashville where I used to write songs. The songwriting/publishing houses are on that street, so if you're wondering if I just picked a random number, I didn't." (x)

Lastly, also need to point to this line:

I'm setting off / But not without my muse. — the lakes (2020)

Taylor's also outright expressed interest in what makes someone inspiring. Look at this passage from her 2018 conversation with Pattie Boyd:

TS: I don’t know what it is that makes some people really creatively inspiring. There have been people I’ve spent a lot of time with who I just couldn’t write about. PB: Yes, now what is that? TS: I don’t know. It’s just that some people come into your life and they have this effect on you. It’s really interesting because in your case you inspired that creative output from two iconic musicians. That just blows my mind. It’s very rare! (x)

Circling back to Lavender Haze and the idea of being reduced to a passive, docile woman within a romantic relationship (You see all the wisest women had to do it this way / 'Cause we were born to be the pawn in every lover's game.) I think, aside from her justified outrage at sexist standards, this concept is also something that is antithetical to how she specifically approaches love; she's an active participant in it via the art she creates about it. Creative inspiration is a pillar of the great love of her life.

Somewhat off-topic post-script: It's also interesting to consider the current speculated timeline of her relationship – which, of course, may be proven wrong some day – that appears to imply she began writing songs very early into dating her current partner, despite having been in a writing flunk for the previous year, which, in fact, coincides with her previous relationship, which was with someone who seemed to express shame about her co-writing a song with him and possibly wanted her to rein her creative and career drive in.

Your picket fence is sharp as knives. […] Storm coming, good husband, bad omen / Dragged my feet right down the aisle / At the house, lonely, good money, I'd pay if you'd just know me / Seemed like the right thing at the time. / You know there's many different ways you can kill the one you love / The slowest way is never loving them enough. — High Infidelity (2022)

I have so many thoughts about the way Taylor's view of love is inextricably linked to how she views writing but alas, I have like ten swiftie followers.

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Cupid & Psyche (S.R.)

Summary: Reader and Spencer get kidnapped by a rather romantic matchmaking unsub who demands they perform for him. Request: Reader and Spencer both have feelings for each other & an unsub called "cupid" abducts people & sets them up, but when the couples can't convince him they're in love, he kills them. Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Dubious/Non-con (kissing as described in request), consensual fingering, penetrative sex, loss of virginity Word Count: 9.3k

MASTERLIST

It is a strange experience to meet a very important person under the worst possible circumstances. Call it star-crossed lovers, soulmates, or fate— it didn’t matter. All I knew was that the day I met Spencer Reid was the best and worst day of my life.

It started like any other normal day, and almost ended like it, too. But it didn’t.

There is something distinctly terrifying about your home no longer being safe. I was just lying in bed, trying to quiet my mind enough to fall asleep, when I'd heard the unmistakable sound of the front door to my house being broken down. With no subtlety or caution, it took the man less than 2 minutes to find his way into the first bedroom.

That room happened to be mine.

I don’t remember much, but I do remember the sharp pain of something hitting me over the head as I tried to open my window. With perfect clarity, I could recall the look on his face when he pinned me against the ground just to realize I wasn’t the one he was looking for.

He left me there.

Survivor’s guilt, Spencer had assured me multiple times, isn’t only a product of situations where someone else dies. And that was clear, because my roommate had lived, and I still felt terrible. Terrible that she had been the target of most of the monster’s rage.

I was the one who had called 911, and I was surprised when I heard the sound of swiftly approaching sirens. I didn’t stay on the floor. Painfully and slowly, I tried to crawl through my concussed delirium to my friend.

Luckily, the FBI made it there first. A voice loudly announced their arrival, and I felt a wave of immense relief rush through me. The first person to make it through the door, however, wasn’t what I was expecting.

The first thing I noticed was that he was wearing red converse high tops with mismatching socks. The second thing I noticed was how soft his hands were when they pushed my hair out of my face, helping me off the ground.

Maybe it was my damaged brain, or the adrenaline coursing through my veins, but this stranger wrapping his arms around me felt like home. The way he picked me up and carried me out of the building gave me the strength to breathe as he gently instructed me to.

Spencer had since then told me about transference, that I only liked him as a person now because he had been there to help me when I was in danger. But I didn’t remember anyone else from that night. I didn’t keep talking to any of them.

It was just him.

When I got to the paramedics, he kept my hand in his. He didn’t leave and he didn’t ask me what happened. Instead, he asked me about things I loved; the things that made me happy. It was a welcome distraction.

Spencer somehow kept me sane. Not just that day, but every day after that. At first, he kept in contact with me through letters. Like, as in snail mail letters… from less than thirty minutes away.

As romantic as it was, I quickly realized I needed more.

He must have felt the same, because soon I received a letter containing only his phone number. I called him immediately, and we talked for nearly 3 hours. It felt so effortless.

Talking to him made the darkness brighter. It made the painful memories change into something we could share. He kept me tethered to reality and made me want to stay there.

After a few months, we finally decided to see each other in person again. He always made sure we were in public. At first, he said it was because he wanted me to associate the outside with happiness again; to remind me that I could exist in the world without everything going wrong.

But I thought it was also something else.

With Spencer, there were clear boundaries.

On the day I told him about my new apartment, he insisted on walking me home. Standing outside the door to my new home, I think he could tell I wanted to kiss him. I didn’t end up doing it. I just couldn’t, especially considering the fact that, earlier that day, he’d told me about the only time he ever crossed a boundary with a victim on a case.

Perhaps sensing the indecisiveness in the sway of my body on the balls of my feet, he all but flat out said that we could never happen. I was so desperate to keep him in my life that I didn’t even try to fight for him.

I’m not sure which he hated more.

Since then, each time we met, he would follow me back to my apartment, but never further than that. I never asked him to come in, no matter how badly I wanted to. I wondered if it would always be like that. I hoped not.

That hope was the reason why I waited up each time he left, no matter what. I would sit there for at least an hour, hoping that he would change his mind and turn back around to knock on my door and beg to come inside.

It didn’t seem so crazy, that one day it would be too much and we’d have to act on it. So, when I heard a hard, anxious knock on my door not 20 minutes after he left, I walked over, anticipation building with each step towards it.

I opened the door. The only thing I saw before the world went dark was that the man on the other side of the door was not Spencer.

I woke up to stale air that reeked of bleach. Some vague memory dictated that I’d been in a place like this before. Opening my eyes slowly, I realized in the dim light that I was in a motel room.

The memories all came back at once. I shot up in the bed in a panic, running to the door to realize it was locked. The windows were locked, too.

My heart felt like it would burst through my chest, the blood rushing in my ears and my hands shaking more than I thought possible. The sound of my hurried breath filled the room and my mind.

That was, until I heard him.

“Hello?” Spencer’s voice came from behind the door of the shared room. I ran over to it, both hands against the wood as I whispered back.

“Spencer?”

“(Y/n)?” The shock in his voice hurt my chest. “A-are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. Are… are you okay?” I returned, listening in the relative silence for whatever truth or information I could glean from it.

“Yeah.”

He was doing something, but I couldn’t tell what until a small piece of paper was nudged through the gap in the bottom of the door. In Spencer’s characteristically goofy writing, I could make out the message.

‘I recognized him. My team is on the way. We just have to stall. I’m sorry.’

I wanted to ask him why he was sorry, but it was clearly not safe to speak about it. I guessed that we were being watched. Beside me, there was a webcam set up facing the bed, the light indicating it was on. So. I took the paper, folding it up and putting it into my pocket.

“Why are we here?” I asked, unable to resist.

Spencer paused, probably trying to figure out what he could say. But if he recognized him, surely he knew why we were her.

“I made a mistake.”

I let the vague words hang, pulling my hands back from the wood just in time to hear the lock unlatch from the door.

“Open the door,” a third, garbled voice said through a speaker in the room. They didn’t have to tell me twice; I threw the door open and quickly jumped into Spencer’s arms.

They still felt like home.

His face buried in my hair, his hands clinging to me like static, he somehow already started to ease the dread. But we were still here. He whispered into my ear, “I’m so sorry. He must have heard me talk about you. I-I just…”

Talk… about me? I thought, wishing I could pull back and ask for more, but knowing this wasn’t the time.

“I just don’t understand. This… so far he’s only targeted a very specific type and it doesn’t fit. I didn’t think I was putting you in danger.”

His words were so fast and hushed, it was dizzying. His breath on my ear and the confusing nature of the words made the anxiety set in again.

“What type?” I asked, scared of the answer. I wasn’t sure which was worse- the situation actually being my fault this time, or this being second time my associations had led me straight into the hands of a serial killer.

“… Virgins.”

The word sent a shock through my body as I got my answer, and I immediately broke apart from the embrace. My cheeks burned as they flushed, my chest heaving with the realization that this time it was at least partially because of me that this was happening.

But Spencer didn’t know that about me. Was this man stalking me? How did he know? It didn’t really matter, though. We were already here.

Spencer was watching me with a confused concern that quickly morphed into an expression of horror.

“Oh.”

That was all he said. He tried to shield the mounting panic from my perception, but he failed. I didn’t know what was going on. Evidently, he did. He either couldn’t tell me, or didn’t want to.

Luckily, he didn’t have to.

“Take a seat on the bed,” the robotic voice commanded.

Suddenly, my feet felt bolted to to the floor. I was too scared to move.

Spencer recognized my deer in the headlights expression and put his hands on me, trying to help me onto the bed. One hand brushed over my pocket that kept the note in it.

The message was received. We just had to stall. It would be okay.

Once we’d sat down, he didn’t remove his hands. One stayed on the small of my back and the other held onto my hand resting on my thigh. It was the only thing keeping me from screaming.

“Dr. Reid,” the voice started, and his fingers gripped harder against me as it did. “You have spent months now in denial. You have deprived not only yourself, but (y/n) of one of life’s greatest treasures.”

The man speaking paused like he was disgusted with the both of us.

“Do you honestly believe that you know better than the divine universe?”

Spencer was breathing heavily, his eyes fixated on the camera, but the side of his body pressed up against mine.

“No.”

There was hatred in his voice.

“I don’t believe you.”

“What treasure?” I piped in, unable to control myself with the adrenaline lighting every nerve I had on fire. Spencer looked at me now, like he was remembering something. His clenched jaw slackened along with his hands.

“Love,” the voice answered for him.

I looked away from Spencer, tucking my hair behind my ear as I tried to figure out what the fuck was happening. Was this psycho trying to play matchmaker? There were simpler ways to do that. None of which involved kidnapping.

“Your inaction cannot stand any longer. It ends today,” the speaker instructed as the lights began to dim even further. The soft glow of yellow reminded me of candlelight.

This man was insane.

“I will be your Cupid. I will guide you through the hardest part. When it is over, you will thank me for doing what you were too afraid to do.”

When I realized what he meant, I wanted to respond. I wanted to scream back that we didn’t need his help; that I didn’t want it to happen like this. But I couldn’t. Spencer was gripping me so tightly, begging me with his eyes to remember not to fight.

We just had to stall. But what did that mean? And for how long? Was I supposed to…

“Whenever you hear the sound of this bell,” he paused to allow a chime to fill the room, the lights pulsing in time, “you will proceed to the next step.”

I couldn’t breathe. My head was pounding along with my heart, and I clutched my chest to try and convince myself I was still alive at all.

“If you do something wrong, Dr. Reid, you will hear this noise.”

A harsh buzzer sound tore through the room, and I flinched like the sound had shocked me.

“If you fail three times, I will have no choice but to take her away from you.”

Spencer’s hand was shaking.

“Because if you fail, you don’t deserve her,” he clarified before the bell chimed again.

“You may begin.”

“Spencer, what is going on?” I immediately asked, tears welling in my eyes as he turned to bring me closer. He pulled my face to his chest, shushing me gently.

“I’m so sorry,” he croaked before breaking us apart. With his hands firmly on my shoulders, he swallowed. “I-I… I have to…”

The terror in my eyes was, I’m certain, the least romantic thing in the world.

“I have to kiss you. Is that… is that okay?”

On instinct I shook my head no, only because nothing about this was okay. I’d wanted to kiss Spencer for months, but not like this. Not if he didn’t want to.

“Yes,” I answered so quietly I was surprised that he heard it.

“Are you sure?”

I felt like time was running out. Like any second now, the buzzer would ring. It felt suffocating and overwhelming, and something told me that no matter what I said, it wouldn’t be enough for Spencer to believe me.

So, I took action. I wrapped my arms around his neck, my hands tangling in his hair as I drew him closer. When we touched, the first thing I noticed were that his lips were somehow softer than I’d imagined. The kiss was hesitant and panicked, but I tried not to focus on that.

Instead, I tried to feel the emotions that were hiding behind the tidal wave of fear. I was too afraid to end the kiss entirely, so when I stopped to breathe, I opened my eyes to look into his.

He seemed… lost. In what, I was unsure. I bit down on my bottom lip that still tingled with the feeling of his.

This time, he was the one to move. He placed both of his hands against my cheeks. The warmth and security the touch provided felt like a life vest keeping me afloat while stranded at sea.

I gave myself to the kiss, and Spencer seemed to respond to that. Slowly and without breaking apart, his hands slid down my sides and brought us as close as the position would allow.

It felt like an eternity kissing him, and not in a bad way. I tried to forget what had led to this. I knew it was playing into what this creepy motherfucker wanted, but it was all I could think to do.

If this had to be the first time Spencer and I kissed, I wanted it to be as much like I wanted it to be as I could make it.

That was the thought I had when the bell chimed. I jumped at the sound, my fingers wrapped within his hair tightening slightly.

“W-What does that mean?” I asked under my breath.

He sighed, pressing our foreheads together and clenching his eyes shut.

“I don’t know.”

They were his least favorite words, and it only made it worse to say them here, under these circumstances. He was shifting in place, trying to think of what to do, or say, or anything. Eventually, he managed to open his eyes.

“Can I try something?”

Dumbly, I nodded. Despite telling me, I was still surprised when he lifted me off the bed, carrying me a few feet before laying me down on my back. I turned my face to the side and saw the light of the camera staring back at me.

Dread set through my stomach, and I gripped Spencer’s arms like they could provide me safety. He used a hand to gently guide my face back to him.

He looked so different like this. I hated to have these thoughts right now, but it was impossible not to. The way he looked at me with his pupils blown wide in the golden light was intoxicating. And when he licked his lips, I remembered that they were the very same ones I had just kissed.

“Are you okay?”

His voice was shaking as much as his arms, like he was holding himself back from so much. I couldn’t speak, so I just nodded instead.

“Tell me if you need me to stop.”

I arched my back when I felt his hand begin running down my side. It was terrifying and humiliating, to have this experience knowing someone was watching. Knowing that something horrible will happen if I don’t play along. It hurt worse knowing that it would also hurt Spencer either way.

“I-If you stop… he’ll hurt you.”

He smiled at me, a sad, meaningful smile as as he said, “I’d rather he hurt me than I hurt you.”

I didn’t even realize the tears falling down my face until his thumb began to wipe them away. He gave me a quiet, chaste kiss on the lips before moving to my jaw. I gasped at the sensation, my hands wrapping around his head when his lips were against my neck.

“I’m so sorry. You deserve so much better than this.”

The words felt like daggers to my heart, and I tried not to think about the rest of the world for a moment. I stared at the pattern on the ceiling, letting my body respond however it saw fit to the way Spencer delicately laid his lips across the column of my throat.

“Just…” his voice caught in his throat, and the words stuck to my skin, “Just pretend that I’m someone else.”

My mind immediately rebelled against the thought, but I couldn’t tell him why. This situation was fucked up enough. I can’t even imagine pausing to take a moment to say, ‘Hey, by the way, I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you. When we escape from the serial killer, do you want to try this again sometime?’

“I can be whoever you need me to be,” he continued.

It just made me feel even worse. I felt so guilty, to think that some part of me was enjoying the way his body felt pressed up against me. But what if he wasn’t? In some fucked up way, was I an accomplice in his suffering?

“Just close your eyes and picture someone you love.”

I didn’t have to close my eyes for that, but I did it, nonetheless, hoping that it would make it easier for him. Finally finding the courage to move, I hooked one of my legs around his, pulling his body closer to me and sighing at the way it felt when he bumped against me.

His tongue on my neck became more insistent, and I bit down on my lip to prevent myself from giving the creep watching any satisfaction. Still, I wondered how Spencer would have reacted.

“Kiss me, Spencer.”

It was more a beg than anything else, with the purposeful use of his name. He dragged his nose up my jaw, opening his eyes to look at me with that calming look he gave me the first night he met me. Except this time, it was mixed with something else.

“Are you sure?”

The way he said it lit a light bulb in my mind, identifying that feeling as the same one I was experiencing.

Longing.

“Please,” I whispered, my fingers lightly tracing the outline of his jaw as I guided his lips to mine.

I’d never done this before. Don’t get me wrong; I’ve kissed men, but never like this. I’d never had one of them hold me so softly, expressing so many emotions with just one little touch that it sent shivers down my spine.

I swiped my tongue against his lips, implicitly asking for his permission to continue, the same way he’d kept asking for mine. With only a little hesitation, he accepted. And no matter how hard I tried to contain it, I couldn’t help but whimper into his mouth.

He must have heard it, because he immediately brought his hand to my head, lacing it through my hair and pulling me impossibly closer to him. I couldn’t tell if he was trying to shut me up, or just look more convincing for the camera.

Maybe he just wanted to? Probably not.

It didn’t matter; the thought vacated my mind the second the bell chimed. My eyes shot open only to see that Spencer’s had opened, as well. There were only so many other steps we could take before things got way too real.

How much longer was his team going to be?

This time when he pressed our lips together, it was with more force than I was expecting. Soon after, his hand that was on my hip had begun sliding up my side under my shirt.

“Oh, god.”

Embarrassingly, my skin broke out in goosebumps. I took a sharp inhale of breath, closing my eyes before his hand stopped completely in its tracks.

“Is this alright?”

If only he knew why I was reacting the way I was - the thoughts that I’d had about this exact feeling. The way that his skin was even softer, even warmer than I’d ever thought.

“Yes,” I sighed, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he urged with a broken voice, “Please.”

Instead of trying to maneuver that conversation, I opted to kiss him. Having gotten past the initial stage of awkwardness, our mouths slid across each other with a renewed vigor.

That was, until his hand got to its resting place against my breast. My body entirely froze, and my exhale shook with all the nerves rushing back.

“You’re okay,” he whispered onto my lips, the words sounding even more intimate than our current embrace, “I won’t hurt you.”

And he didn’t. His touch was soft as his fingers danced along the outside of my bra. My eyes fluttered shut when he kissed me again. I wondered if he noticed the way his body was beginning to rock against mine ever so slightly. The friction was driving me insane.

“Tell me what you need from me,” he said through a heavy panting, “I-I want to give it to you.”

With a sudden rush of boldness, I tugged on his hair to separate the two of us enough to see the other’s eyes.

“The truth,” I said through swollen, well-kissed lips, “I want the truth.”

He looked terrified and confused, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he tried to swallow the doubts no doubt crawling through him.

“About what?” he asked quietly.

“Do you…” I paused, noticing the way his body froze in place, his hand shrinking back slightly to rest against my ribs. “D-Do you want me?”

With blown pupils and empty lungs, Spencer’s mouth open and closed a few times as he tried to get his voice to make a sound.

I never got my answer.

Before he could say a single word, I heard the unfortunately familiar, unmistakable sound of a door crashing open. I closed my eyes, bringing my hands over my ears and shrinking into myself as the chaos rung through the room.

Spencer’s body left mine so quickly that I almost accepted that as my answer. When I opened my eyes, I saw him standing with his hands in the air; the same hands that had been holding me seconds earlier.

I didn’t move until JJ had come to my side, helping me off the bed and asking me a bunch of questions that felt so far away. Spencer frantically looked at the panic on my face, then down at his hands before bolting out of the room.

He didn’t come back.

Every time I asked the team to see Spencer during the interviews, I would get an awkward non-answer telling me that it was probably best he was left alone for now. While I understood, it didn’t make it hurt any less.

My calls to him also went unanswered. Not that I needed to hear it from him — I could hear the same lines about professional boundaries and transference running on repeat in my head. I accepted that it was probably the only answer I’d ever get to the question that had sent him literally running away from me.

Even if he did want me somehow, it wouldn’t ever happen. Especially not now. And as heartbreaking as that was, it didn’t make me want to see him less.

I missed him. Not just his body that I momentarily got to hold, but his company. Since I met him, we’d become close friends. Dare I say he was my best friend. To lose him to a serial killer’s perverse fantasy seemed… wrong.

I knew I had to give it one more try. I had to attempt to convince him one more time that things could be normal. At least, I hoped that things could be normal again.

Despite the sun quickly setting, I knew Spencer wouldn’t be anywhere near sleep if he was in town. The poor thing never slept. In fact, it was probably time for his evening cup of coffee he had every day like clockwork. I wanted him to share it with me, just like we used to.

So, after making myself presentable— no sense in going overboard when he probably wouldn’t even answer my phone call— I gathered my things to head to the cafe.

Quickly enough so that I couldn’t second guess myself, I dialed his number.

My phone was wedged between my shoulder and ear, balancing precariously as I struggled to hold my keys and purse. I paused for a moment and found myself suddenly remembering the night I had opened my door to find someone else there.

And just like that, the door seemed so heavy; so impossibly difficult to maneuver. I stared at it vacantly and hoped that the feeling would disappear.

It did, but for a strange reason — music.

It was the soft humming of Spencer’s ringtone on the other side of my door. It was so quiet and muffled that I almost didn’t believe it was real. But it was, and it was his. I would recognize it anywhere (God knows he gets too many calls from work).

Then, it was quieter; receding from my door as the man with it was about to run off again. Terrified that he would leave before I could talk to him, or just see him and know that he was okay, I flung the door open without caring about what monsters might be on the other side.

Thankfully, there were no monsters. Just Spencer.

“… Hey.”

That was all the insight the genius had to explain why he was standing outside my door at 8pm for no apparent reason.

But that was fine, because all I could offer in response was a shaky breath and another soft, “Hey.”

“Sorry to show up like this I just… I hoped we could… talk.”

The nervous wobble of his voice did more to calm me down than I’d like to admit. In a way, it also made me guilty. I felt bad how relieved I was that he was also an anxious mess.

“Yeah,” I dumbly responded, not giving him any indication of what we should do next.

His eyes kept glancing away from me, unable to maintain eye contact and looking at something over my shoulder.

“C-can we?” he finally asked, “…Talk?”

“I’d like that very much,” I said, but then didn’t move. We just stood there for another couple of seconds until he was gracious enough to point out the flaw with my current plan of saying as few words as possible.

“Do you want to go to the cafe or do you want me to…”

“Come in?” I finished for him, before realizing that I was essentially blocking his way into my apartment.

“Oh. Yes! Please! Come in. You’re already here so, you should just come in,” I nervously rambled, trying to make sense of the fact that Spencer Reid was going to be inside my apartment… alone. “I-I’ll make a pot of coffee.”

Shuffling awkwardly inside, he stood just inside the door instead of outside of it. He was waiting to see where I would sit, but I hadn’t exactly decided yet, either.

“You know me well. I can’t ever say no to coffee.”

“Don’t think that one is exactly a well-kept secret, Spencer,” I responded with a light laugh, the butterflies returning to their soft flutter in my gut. It was weird how quickly we fell back into our rhythm.

He just nodded, accepting the slight dig at his caffeine habit. His eyes followed me across the room, his feet staying firmly rooted a few feet away from me even as I sat down on the couch.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” I asked once he finally sat down. My hands were smushed between my thighs as I tried not to give away just how nervous I actually was.

“The obvious thing, I think?”

He clearly wasn’t ready to talk about it, either, which was reassuring in its own way.

“The serial killer kidnapping us thing?” I responded with a smile to hopefully lighten the incredibly tense environment.

“Yeah, that’s the one…” he laughed, running a hesitant hand through his hair. His tongue swept over his lips, and I tried not to stare at it. It was still so hard to believe that only a couple weeks ago that tongue had been on my lips and kissing my neck.

“I just…”

His voice broke me out of my reverie, and I shook my head gently like it would physically knock the thoughts away.

“I wanted to apologize. For everything. It was my fault you got wrapped up in it and… the last thing I ever want to do is hurt you.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“It was, a little bit.”

He turned his legs towards me, but his upper body shifted further away. I wasn’t a profiler, but it really felt like mixed signals.

“It was just… Morgan kept asking me questions and I let my guard down with suspects around and that was just so stupid. I never thought it could actually affect you. If I’d known you were a—“

Honestly, the fact he couldn’t even say the word virgin made me even more uncomfortable. I hadn’t even decided whether I would ever tell him if I got a chance. But now it didn’t matter. He knew, and it clearly bothered him.

“I shouldn’t have mentioned you at all,” he amended his thoughts, “I’m sorry.”

But truthfully, there was something else weighing on my mind.

“What were you saying about me?”

“What?” His mouth puckered before he sucked his lips in, worrying the skin. I watched his hands begin to fumble with each other. But any distractions weren’t going to work right now.

I had waited long enough; I wanted answers.

“He… he thought you were in love with me after what you said. So… what did you say?”

He grimaced, then took a sharp inhale before blowing out an equally uneasy breath.

“Would you believe me if I said I don’t remember?”

… said the man with the eidetic memory.

“Spencer!” I screeched with laughter before punching him on the arm, “What kind of lame ass excuse is that?”

“So, no?” he asked, obviously hoping that I wouldn’t push it. My glare told him that he had no such luck.

“I don’t know…” he started, looking down at his hands instead of me, “I was whining about not being able to see you because of the case and Morgan asked me if I’d ever considered being…”

There was that hesitance again, his teeth closing over his tongue to try and prevent the words from escaping. The words looked painful, which hurt me in turn.

“More than friends,” he managed.

“And… what did you say?”

The lack of pause between his confession and my response only unnerved him more. He sighed, picking at his nails like those hands that had touched me so gently could work their way out of this.

“You know,” he muttered with a shrug, “Transference… professional boundaries…”

He still wouldn’t look at me.

“I see… Are those the only reasons?”

That caused him to look up, his eyes squinted with genuine confusion. But he had to know what I was asking, right? He heard himself when he spoke?

“I mean, are there other reasons? Like, do you not want to be with me? Do you not like me?”

“What?” he spoke far too loudly, and far too quickly, “I didn’t say that—!”

“Did you enjoy kissing me?” I cut him off, changing the route of the conversation to hopefully land us in waters that were more transparent, even if one of us would drown there all the same.

“That’s not a fair question,” he replied with a trembling voice, “It wasn’t exactly an easy time to distinguish feelings.”

“Then kiss me again.”

I heard the way the breath caught in his throat, his eyes widen and jaw slackened as his brain processed the request. He had heard me correctly, but for some reason his mind was rejecting it.

“What?”

“Kiss me, Spencer. Right now.”

Sitting up straighter, I turned my body to him and moved closer. When our legs bumped together, I stole the warmth he so effortlessly gave. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat and his eyes flickered back and forth across my face.

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” I urged him, placing my hand more confidently on his leg, “I want you to.”

He wanted to do it. I had to tell myself that, because otherwise I was ruining everything we had built. I’d been paralyzed with the fear of losing him for so long, but now I was just stuck with the desire and longing he’d left on my skin.

He had to feel it. I could see it in his eyes.

“Please. Kiss me.”

Then, before I could blink, his arm was around me. Tugging me closer to him, his lips crashed onto mine clumsily, but with purpose. My hands flew around his shoulders, holding onto him and the moment as tightly as I could.

Apparently, he didn’t need that much convincing. Because now that we were here, his tongue was more insistent than that night in the motel. His hands roamed my body, and I could feel the desperate gasps for air between each movement.

For a moment, I almost tried to end the kiss, but he held my face to stop me from leaving too soon. When we did finally part, his teeth held onto my bottom lip as it slipped away.

The second he opened his eyes, they were burning into me. I let my lips tingle, catching my breath before I decided to ask the question I was still waiting for an answer to.

“So… What do you think?”

His answer took a form I wasn’t expecting. Before we could even fill our lungs, his mouth captured mine again. Although not the words I thought I would hear, I accepted the way he kissed me as confirmation that he felt the same stifling longing that had plagued me for so long.

When he pressed his whole body against me, I found myself leaning back and pulling him with me. Because this time, there was no one watching. It was just the two of us, allowed to surrender to the desire we’d danced around for so long.

“Spencer…”

His name felt welcome on my tongue. His nails dragged across my back over the thin layer of my top and goosebumps ripples over my skin.

“You drive me fucking crazy,” he mumbled into my ear. His hands seemed so reserved, staying far away from the areas I wanted him to touch the most.

“Please, Spencer,” I whimpered, “touch me.”

His hands hesitated, hovering over my chest before falling back to my hip.

“I can’t.”

The two words hurt, and the insecurities buried deeply in my mind were blossoming anew.

He saw it, and immediately explained, “I can barely hold myself back when I kiss you, (y/n). If I touch you again, I…”

“I don’t want you to hold back.”

There was a long silence, his eyes displaying his thoughts so vividly in front of me. He was trying to determine whether I was lying. His logical brain told him what I was requesting was irrational, but it wasn’t.

“But you’re—you’re a…”

Again, he had paused. He couldn’t say the word. I hoped that soon, he would never have to again — at least, not about me.

“I’m asking you to change that.”

His eyebrows jumped up, his body moving away from me as he held a hand to his chest, obviously shocked by the idea. But was it really that surprising? I thought I had made my interest obvious over the past few months but apparently, I hadn’t.

“Me?” His voice had nearly jumped an octave, and I couldn’t help but giggle at the sound.

“Yes, Spencer. You.”

Still, he looked bewildered, like I was preparing for some massive practical joke. But I wasn’t. So slowly, I grabbed his hand, leading it to the bottom of my shirt and slowly pushing the fabric up.

The tips of his fingers were much too soft for someone who so often wielded a gun. I wasn’t going to complain; not while they ghosted around the edges of my bra.

“Show me what that genius brain is good for, Dr. Reid.”

I wasn’t sure what about that sentence it was— whether it was the honorific, the humor, or the flattery— but he sprung into action at a dizzying pace. Within seconds he’d pulled my shirt over my head and tossed it to the side before picking me up with ease.

I squeaked when I felt my body leave the couch. He hugged me close in the bridal position, not even bothering to look down at me as he made his way to my bedroom like he’d been there a million times before. Wondering for a moment if he could actually see the stars in my eyes, I allowed myself to feel the burning anticipation and anxiety of what I hoped would follow.

Spencer looked nervous, too, but in an entirely different way.

“Tell me if you need me to stop.”

He spoke so quietly, I wasn’t sure how I even heard him. It didn’t matter, though, because once his hands were on me any worries I had on that front disappeared as I whined, “Please, don’t stop.”

If he had been cautious in touching me before, he wasn’t any longer. Those large, warm palms slipped behind my back and unclasped my bra with only a little difficulty, which was impressive enough, considering I was lying down.

He waited for me to remove the bra, granting me the power to decide whether or not I wanted him to see me yet. While at first, I almost gave into the nervous voice in the back of my head telling me that I would never be good enough for him, I was persuaded not to listen by the calm and steady adoration in his eyes.

And those eyes roamed over my figure as soon as the garment was gone. Then his hand followed, hovering softly over my ribs before letting his fingers drift over my breast.

“You’re so beautiful.”

The romantic words only barely matched the dark, predatory tone that bled through each syllable. When he went to kiss me again, he let those feelings come through loud and clear, his tongue claiming as much as it could reach.

I openly moaned into the kiss, my hand running down his side. Each muscle I touched would tense under my touch, and soon enough I rested my hand against his hip.

He ended the kiss, moving that skillful mouth down my jaw to my neck. I tried to sustain my thoughts long enough to voice them, eventually managing to speak.

“Can I touch you?”

“Yes. God, yes,” he enthusiastically replied as he pulled back just long enough to remove his shirt before his mouth continued its assault over my collarbones.

The spark that he lit inside of me was now raging through my entire body and I was becoming overwhelmed with how badly I needed things to escalate quickly. With an uncharacteristic bravery, I slipped my hand down between us so I could cup him through his pants.

His mouth that had been kissing me gently changed, his teeth digging into the sensitive skin as he stifled a moan against me. I let my fingers experiment, providing varying pressures as my hand slid along the smooth fabric of his slacks.

Spencer surprised me by beginning to rock into my touch, his hands gripping me tightly as he sought for things to escalate the same way I had. Which is probably why his hand also found the waistband of my pants.

“Can I take these off?”

His voice was strained, trying to maintain the gentleness while his body undoubtedly told him to tear the fabric away without another thought. But he wanted me to want it; he wanted me to agree.

“Yes.”

With that, he didn’t waste time in removing them, his vision clinging to each inch of skin as it was exposed to him. Once they were out of the way, his hands held my legs during his ascent, his lips peppering soft kisses along the way.

I closed my eyes, trying to memorize the way it felt to be showered with his affections. My breathing was unsteady and loud as he pressed a long kiss against my inner thigh before withdrawing completely.

Huffing in minor annoyance, I opened my eyes to see him smile at the same time his hand cupped my sex over my underwear. I jumped with a gasp, but his hand remained still for a second as he read my reaction, trying to gauge my comfort level.

Once he was satisfied that I wasn’t begging him to stop, he began to move, rubbing soft strokes along the fabric.

“Is this okay?”

“I want more.”

“Patience,” he chuckled, giving more pressure as he continued and noticing the dampness soaking through the fabric. He bit down on his bottom lip, his eyes closing as that obvious restraint returned.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.”

“I told you,” I gasped between breaths, “I want more. I’m ready.”

“We’ll see about that.”

Without any other warning, one slender finger breached my entrance, and I nearly screamed from the sensation.

“Spencer!” I shouted, feeling my muscles clench around him as my body begged him for more.

For the first time in awhile, he wasn’t kissing me. He was just watching me, noting the way my body squirmed around his touch.

“Is this the first time a man’s touched you here?”

I wasn’t actually expecting the question for some reason, which was silly, considering the nature of his job. However, he hadn’t figured out that I was a virgin, so how would he have noticed that I’d never gotten past second base?

That elusive darkness appeared in his eyes once again as I slowly moved to nod between the lewd noises.

“Y-Yes.”

Spencer’s pupils dilated at the sound of my voice, and he casually brought another finger into me as he spoke, “I had no idea you were so fucking innocent.”

No matter how difficult it was to speak, I tried to continue. I was worried that if I stopped, he might doubt my ability to continue. Truthfully, I hadn’t told him because I knew that so many men were terrified by the prospect of an emotional attachment from a hook up. But something told me that wasn’t an issue here, so I admitted it freely now.

“I didn’t want you to be scared.”

“I’m definitely not scared.”

He took my hand that had fallen away from his pants and brought it back to its prior resting place, rubbing it harshly against the fabric over his erection to remind me of his desire.

There was something about the way he was so comfortable commanding my movements, telling me where he wanted me and what to do that made this experience so much easier. But at the same time, I didn’t want him to feel like each step forward was only made by him.

“Take off your pants.”

I made my instruction very clear, yet still whimpered when he removed his fingers. I watched the way they moved carefully, already missing their touch. But that was okay, because he was now using them to reveal something much better.

Although thrilling, the size of his length was simultaneously terrifying. I’d rarely used anything in those late night trysts with myself, and some illogical part of me was worried he wouldn’t be able to fit. But that was nonsense — we’re built for this, right?

Judging by the way he was beaming with pride, I’m guessing he had noticed my enthusiastic shock. I wanted to wipe that smug grin off his face and replace it with something equally wanton, so I reached out and gripped his erection with no hesitation, beginning soft strokes along the length of him.

“I want to fuck the shit out of you.”

The way he said it was not through clenched teeth or anger, but with a desperate desire. It made my body ache, wishing more than anything that I could give him that release.

“Then do it.”

“Not this time. I promised I wouldn’t hurt you.”

This time?

Like he heard my thoughts, he repeated with a hint of a smile, “This time, I’ll be gentle.”

My eyes lit up with hope as he straddled my legs, one hand holding him up while he leaned forward to kiss me with as much longing as he had before. This time, however, the energy had shifted. The languid, sloppy kisses showed me that imprecision was okay, that imperfections were just as enjoyable.

Between us, I could feel the way he lined himself up against me, the tip of his sex pressed against my heat.

Resting his forehead against mine, he spoke the words quietly and close, “Are you ready?”

Cautiously, I nodded, scared that my voice might break the moment. But Spencer didn’t appreciate my silence, and brought his hand up to caress my face.

“Say it. Tell me what you want.”

“I want you, Spencer.”

Unhurried, he sunk into me inch by inch, his eyes inspecting the way my face contorted with pleasure and a slight pain at the intrusion. His thumb rubbed gentle circles on my cheek as he continued for an impossibly long time.

“Fuck, (y/n),” he moaned, his eyes finally fluttering shut as he bottomed out inside of me, “You’re so tight.”

He was practically kissing me as he spoke, so I, too, mumbled the words into his mouth as he began to move, drawing out of me at a torturous pace.

“I was waiting for you.”

My words did more to him than I thought they would, and his hips snapped forward into me with one fluid motion.

“Shit,” he cursed, “You have no idea what you do to me.”

Although slow, his thrusts were strong, and each time he stretched me open my lower body would tremble, my fingernails digging into his arms or back — whatever I could reach.

Soon after, his movements became faster, with the sound of his low moans in my ear driving my pleasure to new heights. Something about the way our bodies started to meld together, with my mind unable to keep up with where I ended and he began, made another strange and familiar feeling bloom in my chest.

With both hands, I pulled his face back so I could look into his eyes, biting my tongue whenever my mouth wasn’t falling open with lustful sound.

“Spencer—I…”

I what? I knew what. Almost every fiber of my being begged me to just say it, let it be known so that we could move past it. But there was still that one piece of me that told me not to, that the words said in this circumstance would be tainted with distrust.

“Say it.”

His answer caught me off guard, and my eyes met his to find not a single ounce of worry. Instead he stared at me, his gaze displaying the same words that hadn’t yet reached my throat. The rhythm of his movements faltered for just a second as he slowed his pace once more.

“Say it,” he repeated softer now.

“I love you.”

He smiled at the words, relief washing over his features as he waited another moment before he kissed me. In that time where the only sounds we could hear were our heavy breaths, hearts pounding, and our bodies joining, I could feel myself falling even more in love with him.

“I love you, too.”

His answer pierced all the other sounds, and my back arched as all the feelings became too overwhelming.

“God, I love you.”

The next kiss we shared was just as sloppy, but now it was only because our hearts were so full that they overflowed. I was drowning in the sensation of him surrounding every part of me, and I knew that he was the paradoxical cure — The only way I could get relief was to throw myself headlong into his love.

And so, that’s what I did; I rushed into the pleasurable abyss without looking back. All the muscles in my body began to tense, and it only took one more rough thrust for me to come undone. I threw my head back against the pillows, shouting out what was supposed to be his name as my heat pulsed around him.

He groaned in pleasure, his hips hitting me harder now as he struggled to remain composed through the duration of my orgasm. I knew that’s what he was doing because seconds after it was over, he spoke.

“I don’t know how much longer I can last like this.”

Still out of breath, I panted while I responded, “Don’t hold back, Spencer.”

The words were vague, but I could tell by the way the sweat dripped from his brow that he knew what I wanted. Swiping his tongue over his lips, he barely managed to get the words out to ask my permission one final time.

“Are you sure?”

Taking his face into my hands again, I forced him to look directly in my eyes that were clouded with lust and euphoria.

“Show me how I make you feel.”

Suddenly, I saw something flicker in those golden irises that gave me a deeper understanding of just how precious this man was to me, and I to him. He buried his face into the crook of my neck, and I laced my fingers through his hair to hold me closer to me.

And then with one final thrust, I felt his muscles tense and tremble under my legs that were wrapped around his waist. An unfamiliar warmth spread through me, bringing with it a lightness in my limbs.

“(Y/n)…” he mumbled as his hips jerked a few more times, ensuring that my body accepted all that he had to offer me.

“Spencer,” I returned, giving one final moan before his weight fell onto me, his arms unable to hold himself up any longer.

We laid there like that for awhile, with him resting against my neck and feeling the way my pulse beat gently against his face. Meanwhile my hands drew barely-there patterns along his back and shoulders, trying to soothe the tired muscles.

Once he did move, he pulled out with a small hiss from the unwelcome friction. I couldn’t help but smile at just how tousled his hair had become during the frenzy. He didn’t notice, though, still too drunk on what had just happened.

He plopped down next to me on the bed, turning his head to look over my naked figure. When his eyes came back to my face, he must have noticed the emotions lurking behind the way I was staring at him.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his hand coming up to stroke my cheek, “Did I hurt you?”

I turned my body towards him, but maintained the distance between us when I replied, “No, you didn’t.”

“Come here.”

We both smiled as he gave his chest a few small pats to show me exactly where he wanted me. Scooting over to him, I felt my cheeks start to burn with embarrassment and unbridled joy.

I could hardly believe that I had just lost my virginity, and to Spencer nonetheless. And now he was practically pulling me onto him because he couldn’t stand how slowly I was coming back to him.

After I was settled, he let out a sigh of relief, his hand stroking the top of my head and playing with my hair.

“Thank you. For letting me share this experience with you,” he explained quietly, careful not to move too quickly or speak too much.

My palm rested over his heart, still just trying to accept that this wasn’t some crazy, wonderful dream.

“No, thank you, Spencer,” I said with a smile, “I put it off for so long because I was scared. I always heard horror stories about how it hurt and was so awkward and uncomfortable and…”

I tilted my head to look up at his face, finding him looking at me with a slight concern and an even larger curiosity. He was hoping I might ease that pained part of him that was still convinced he might have made a mistake.

“It didn’t hurt. It was wonderful.”

And then he smiled, his cheeks dimpling as it slowly took over his entire face the longer we stayed happily curled against the other. But soon he realized what the situation normally called for, and spoke the words I didn’t want to hear.

“Do you want me to stay?”

My mouth twisted into an awkward half-frown as I tried not to look bothered by the question.

“Do you want to leave?” I returned, finding it to be the only safe way to respond.

“No,” the word was said with a nervous chuckle.

“Then don’t leave.”

It seemed to be so simple; and it turned out, it really was. Spencer wanted to be with me, and I wanted to be with him. Not once during this experience had I been worried about transference, and breaching professional boundaries had been the furthest thing from my mind.

All I could think about when I lay with him was the way my heart felt like it was finally complete after years of searching for someone suitable to hold it. Resting my eyes for a few seconds before I would have to get up and ruin the moment to clean myself up before bed, I chuckled.

“What’s so funny?”

“I was just thinking…” I started, causing more bubbly laughter to spill out of my lips between the words, “At least we don’t have to worry about me being a part of any more virgin sacrifices.”

He snorted back, shaking his head and bringing both arms around me and pulling me tighter.

“No, we do not. But… I’m looking forward to showing you a few more new experiences.”

“I can’t wait,” I replied with a toothy grin, crawling further up to press a hard, passionate kiss against his lips. His fingers brushed over my hair, smiling into the kiss until we couldn’t hold it any longer.

“Good,” he said playfully, “Because we don’t have to wait.”

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[dayseternal-blog]

This one song really makes me think of NaruHina: Friend of Mine by Juris Fernandez

Sooo I had no intention of spending a month on this, but I did 😆 I don't know how, but this song just really got the angsty/fluffy/comedic high school AU gears turning in my head.

Summary: When Naruto finally decides to confess to Sakura, Hinata begins to reevaluate her close friendship with her longtime crush.

Rating: T

"Friend of Mine"

When his smile falters and the sparkle of his eyes softens, she doesn’t have to turn to see the object of his attention.

But she doesn’t know what hurts more. To see feminine perfection embodied in the one-and-only Haruno Sakura, or to see his jaw set in determination, to see the light of a “hilarious” idea spark behind his rosed gaze, to see him say, without even a glance of goodbye, “Hold on, one sec,” and then to watch him abandon his lunch across of her.

It’s cold. It paints her bruised somewhere in her ribs, and she stares at his two cups of ramen as if time might speed up any moment now.

“NARUTO!” Sakura shrieks and his burst of laughter that follows draws her attention like a moth to a hot lamp. Sakura pushes him even as his entire body is shaking with exaggerated mirth. “I almost dropped my lunch!” She wacks him, and Naruto slaps his own knees just to emphasize how funny his prank must have been.

It’s the way Sakura touches him so casually…even if it isn’t exactly affectionate, Hinata knows exactly how Naruto craves it. It’s the way his eyes focus on her every expression, as if he doesn’t want to miss a single exasperated groan or a single blink of her startlingly green eyes.

Everyone else begins to turn back to their own lunches, ignoring the deescalating conversation that Naruto somehow struck up once Sakura found her seat, and so Hinata pretends to ignore them, too.

Somehow, she can’t even try to pick at her food.

It’s been more than “one sec.” She already knew it would take more than “one sec.” So why did his thoughtless words make her hope for anything different?

...It’s like this everyday. She thinks of herself as perhaps, putting it nicely, as positively as possible...his comfort zone. Anyone else, someone like Sakura, is an adventure, something spirited and refreshing who’s suited to someone daring like him.

As they get older, Hinata can see how the idea of more calls to him, while she’s happy with what she already knows. Instead, the unknown of the future, how everything can change in the blink of an eye, fills her with anxiety.

It’s so strange how the space of one day can make such a difference, spectacular news electrifying an otherwise ordinary school week. She actually heard it from Sakura herself before the gossip blew up the rest of the student body.

Sakura, the charismatic darling of Konoha High, had auditioned and was accepted as an idol trainee at Shikkotsu Entertainment. She would be transferring next week to a new school that would better fit her new, busy life. It’s not hard to imagine that within a few years, she could be debuting in the next hottest girl group or starring in a tv drama.

For those few early morning minutes before school, it’s only excited jitters and star-struck squeals among the little circle of girls. Hinata completely forgets about romantic rivalry or comparisons amid the honest glee and humble uncertainty Sakura exudes. The world was meant to admire genuine girls like Sakura--her naturally attractive personality and clever looks a rare gift meant for everyone’s delight, herself included.

It’s only as the door rolls open and Ino blindly turns to loudly announce it all to the newcomers that Hinata remembers what always seems to tether her down.

Naruto’s less-than-happy, shocked “What?” speaks volumes.

After school, she bikes over to the riverwalk and finds him sitting in what she secretly calls his Lonely Place, despite being in complete view of any other pedestrians. It is special to them, though. The gentle, grassy slope leading down from the road to the stream. An in-between type of realm, bordering civilization and nature, where time means nothing.

He’s sitting on a random patch of grass, throwing stones at the water below.

Plunk.

As she’s done before, she slowly takes a seat beside him.

As usual, he’s lost in his thoughts. He doesn’t acknowledge her.

She watches him sink rock after rock into the stream.

Every so often, he pauses to look around, to pick together a small stack of debris at his feet.

It’s quiet save for the cars above them and the intermittent plunk of each stone below them.

He gathers a handful, crunching the rough rocks together in his palm. Tosses them all at once. They rain down into the stream, lost beneath tiny ripples colliding and disappearing. “I’m going to confess to her.”

Hinata nods, knowing, having always known, but somehow it still hurts. And yet, she wishes to encourage him. Softly, she voices, “You can do it.”

He leans back on his hands, his posture relaxing. “She probably already knows. Everyone probably knows. But still.” His expression hardens as he looks toward the sky, and it’s that determined gaze that she’s always adored, the one that burns with self-belief. “I think it’s worth it. To say it…. Make it...real.”

Her heart trembles for attention, for her to care about herself, but she forces herself to pay no mind to insignificant pain. This moment is for him. “Yes. It is worth it.” She swallows back the knot in her throat. It’s difficult to meet his attentive gaze, but she does. “You love her, right?”

He contemplates the stream now, rushing on uninterrupted by a teen’s troubles and aggression. “...I dunno. I look forward to seeing her. I think she’s awesome. Funny. Smart. I don’t want her to leave… I can’t help but wonder if she’s doing this for Sasuke, trying to chase after him or...reconnect with him. I know she doesn’t like me. If she did, she wouldn’t just...leave. I don’t know if what I feel is love, but…” He sighs heavily. “I’m just stupid, right?”

His dark expression is lonely.

And she doesn’t know either whether what he feels is love or not, and his reflective honesty is enough to make her wonder about her own feelings, too. Who’s to say for sure if what she feels for him is true love? Are they too young to know? “Naruto-kun...what you feel is real. And...and it’s important.”

He looks at her full-on, blue piercing, and she doesn’t dare turn away. He’s processing, finding some kind of reassurance in her, and that’s what she’ll always try to do for him no matter what. “Yeah... I think so, too. And-” He looks back up at the sky. “-it would be enough for me to know that she’ll know. If that can be her strength. For her to know for sure that she had…” He frowns, gestures aimlessly in the air. “...admirers...before all of the bullshit that comes with the entertainment world. That I’ve always seen her for who she is. Violence and all.” He chuckles for a short second at his own joke.

She’s emotional. Something complicated swells in her chest with the internal echo of his words, and all she can do is look at him. All she can do is nod. Inexplicably, heat edges at her eyes, and Naruto’s expression opens up with confusion.

“Are you...are you crying?!”

She squints away and shakes her head. Tears haven’t fallen, so, no, she’s technically not crying.

“Don’t cry for me, Hinata, fuck-” His breath hitches.

And she’s looking back to see a large frown pulling at the corner of his lip, the back of his hand roughly smearing at his eyes. “Oh,” she gasps, and now the waiting tears wet her vision. “Oh, Naruto-kun,” she manages to tremble out, and he shakes his head, his lips tightening into a hard line.

He eases out a controlled breath. “I’m okay. It sucks, but…”

Pulling her face into her knees, Hinata calms herself and dries her tears. She can cry later if she wants to, in the privacy of her room, but she doesn’t think she will. She’s used to this. She knew this already, that Naruto really likes Sakura...but maybe she didn’t know that she’d relate so well. In a way, it’s so much worse for Naruto. After all, Sakura’s moving away, that one spot of joy in his life is going to a place that they can’t reach, to a world that society draws a strict line across, and he’ll always have to watch her from afar… Fresh tears prickle and her stomach drops just imagining that happening to herself and Naruto. She’d be inconsolable.

“Are you okay?” he murmurs. “Why are you crying?”

She shrugs her shoulders, wiping her leaky eyes, shaking her head.

“Hinata, you really don’t have to cry for me…”

She nods, understanding that she doesn’t have to, that she kind of isn’t crying for him per se, but that he doesn’t know that. “I’m...sorry…” She is. She feels for his pain, just as much as she feels her own.

“Hm...me, too.” He almost chuckles this out, and she can see a fake smile trying to grimace through his expression.

So she offers him the same half-smile.

The air stills once more, and he suddenly throws himself back, sprawling into the grass. “Thanks, Hinata... You’re always so...nice.”

She hums a quiet disagreement, slowly lying down, too.

...

“Hinata.”

She opens her eyes, intaking a sharp breath of panic, before seeing that the sun has yet to begin its descent.

“You knocked out.” He’s sitting up now, looking down at her, and she sits up immediately.

“Sorry! How, how long?”

“It’s only 4:30. I thought 20 minutes would be good, like a power nap. You must’ve been tired. I don’t think you even lasted a minute once you lay down.”

That uncontrollable burn of embarrassment flushes through her system, and she starts to stand up, get some distance between herself and her careless act.

“It’s okay! You probably needed it!” He stands, too, and as they brush off the grass and dirt from their uniforms, it finally feels like time has started running again, the quiet spell of the moment and this special place broken.

She shrugs. “Maybe I did…” All of the emotional turmoil probably tired her out more than she realized. She lifts her attention and finds his, focused on her earnestly. Her heart needlessly flutters. “Hm?”

“Really, thanks, Hinata. I feel a lot better.”

“Oh...no… you’ve done the same for me.” Not concerning love, no, of course not. But concerning bullying and the color of her eyes. Concerning her mother’s passing. She gives a soft smile, remembering all of the times he’s been there for her. Realizing that this is another one for the count of times she’s been there for him. “Good luck, Naruto-kun,” she whispers.

“Thanks. Uh...pray for me, too. She might beat me up when I tell her.”

Despite herself, a laugh bursts out of her. “Sakura-chan won’t beat you up!”

“She probably will!” he argues, sounding completely convinced.

“She wouldn’t!”

“Oh, Hinata, Hinata, Hinata...Sakura-chan’s a different person around you.” He looks thoughtful as they pick up their bicycles and climb back up the hill. “Hm. A lot of people are different around you.”

Hinata doesn’t know how to take that. When she thinks about it, she understands exactly what Naruto means, though. Her classmates don’t seem to be as...loud...around her. She’s always wondered if people feel like they can’t “be themselves” or be natural around her. “...Is that a good thing or a bad thing?...”

“Mmm…” He stands in thought once they reach the sidewalk. “It’s a Hinata-thing, I guess? It must be a good thing then.”

“A...Hinata-thing?” She looks at him doubtfully, but he just smiles widely at her.

“I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“Okay...see you tomorrow, Naruto-kun.” A smile and a wave, and she turns around to head home, rolling this Hinata-thing idea around in her mind.

Naruto has always been quieter around her. He’s never teased her. Never pranked her. Never insulted her or spoken arrogantly to her. He’s always been a kind friend to her, never trying to make her laugh or annoy her. He’s like a different person... Not like with Sakura.

He’s always trying to make Sakura look at him, either with jokes or by bragging loudly. Uzumaki Naruto turned up x100.

When romance talks about love being a game or a chase, Naruto certainly fits the bill, a classic case.

What if she tried to chase him more? Calling out his name, calling for his attention if he gets distracted? What if she tried to joke around Naruto? Or tried to tease him? Or spoke more of her accomplishments to him? Would he notice? Would he laugh? Would he ignore her?

Would he realize?

Would he get annoyed? Would he panic? Would he distance himself from her?

He would blame himself.

He would feel guilty.

He might even pity her, but in a kind way. Always kind, never ill-intentioned.

They’re friends. Precious friends. Childhood friends meant to be lifelong friends. The type of friendship that few people can speak of, the type of friendship that most people dream of. But is it strong enough to take such a hit?

“It would be enough for me to know that she’ll know. If that can be her strength.” If Naruto knew how she feels for him, would it...could it become his strength…?

--

He somehow managed to catch Sakura alone, right at the end of lunch. He somehow managed to get her to follow him to the far stairwell. Somehow managed to get a moment of her time.

“Soo, what’s up?” Sakura asks. Her tone is so conversational, he can tell that she has no idea that he’s about to confess.

“I…” He loses his nerve. “I wanted to wish you well, good luck, and all that...”

“Oh!” Her face lights up with surprised joy, and it’s beautiful. “Thank you! That’s so nice of you!” Her gaze grows distant. Her heart is already in the future.

“I wanted to tell you something else, too.”

Her attention zips back to him, to the present. “Yeah?”

His adrenaline spikes, and he knows there’s no turning back now. “I know you don’t feel the same way, but I wanted to tell you before you leave.” He swallows his fears, readying himself for the inevitable shame. “I like you, Sakura-chan.”

She blinks twice, brows furrowing, his stomach churning in the embarrassment he already knew was coming. “What? Naruto-” Her tone is scolding. Strangely. She blinks several times, obviously thinking about something, obviously not believing him. Her jaw finally drops. She’s looking up at him with a kind of disdain that he really was not expecting, then whispers out, “You broke up with Hinata?”

“......What?”

“What? Or, you’re joking after all? Or, you really do like me, but, like, what about Hinata?!”

“What?!” The whiplash is almost too much, but he gathers the shambles of his mind just enough. “I’m not dating Hinata!”

“What?!”

“What, we’re not together! We’re childhood friends! I...I was so obvious about you, wasn’t I?! You had no idea?!”

“What??” Her voice is rising several volumes, but he can’t even think to tell her to go back to whispering again. “Naruto!! This WHOLE time I thought you and Hinata were secretly together!! We ALL think that, Naruto!”

“No! What? What do you mean you ALLLL think that?! Who??? Why???”

“Well, okay, I mean not ALLL of us think that, I mean, Ino kept saying that you might be gay-”

He sputters in disbelief.

“-To be fair, she’s always thinking that this person or that person is gay, okay? But, like, seriously, we all thought so!”

“Who??”

“Everyone!”

“Everyone?!!”

“YEAH. Everyone! Except maybe Ino.”

His shoulders slump. Faces of their classmates running like a reel through his mind, and he wonders now if every single one of them thought that he and Hinata have been dating.

“Listen, okay? The theory is that Hinata’s father wants her to focus on her grades, so she’s not allowed to have a boyfriend, so the two of you are just in a relationship but without the dating, without the labels, without the physical stuff.”

He stares at her, just trying to adjust to the reality that everyone else has been living in except him.

“This really changes my view of you…” Sakura grimaces. “I thought the real you must be this really nice guy actually, like so patient for Hinata, waiting for graduation, in it for the long-run… You’re actually just annoying, aren’t you? And Hinata’s actually even more of a saint than we thought for dealing with you everyday.”

He stares at her. “...Ow?!”

“Oh.” Sakura seems to suddenly remember his confession. “Oh. Sorry.” She pinches her lips into a tight line of contrition. “I’m really sorry, Naruto. I...yeah...I don’t see you that way.” She suddenly looks meek, her vividly green eyes full of a kind of pity that he’s not used to seeing from her. “You’re a good friend to me.”

Naruto can’t handle it. He bites his lips, gaze on the ground, trying to recenter. This confession was supposed to be meaningful for her. Instead, it completely fell off the tracks, a wreckage of surprising parts that he doesn’t know what to do with. He clears his throat. “Just, don’t forget about me, okay? I know you’ll do great. I’ll be cheering for you.”

“...Thank you. And of course! I won’t forget anyone!”

He finally lifts his face and sees her earnest expression. “...I can still be your friend?”

“Of course. Walk back with me?”

He sighs. Nods. “Sure.”

Unsurprisingly, it’s a quiet walk, but he can’t find it in himself to regret his actions. Even if it wasn’t meaningful for Sakura, it’s still a load he got off his chest. He can at least tell Hinata that it’s a relief, that he did what he said he would do…

…Everyone thinks he’s in a relationship with Hinata?! That can’t be. They’ve never been lovey-dovey with each other. Sakura has to be wrong.

So after school, he buys time to investigate. “Hinata.” He gets to her desk, and she’s still packing her backpack. She’s one of the slowest ones, usually the slowest one, and she mentioned once how much she tries to hurry. It’s hilarious to him, watching her shove her notebooks into her bag with that daily look of slight distaste, disappointment, and frustration.

“I’m sorry to make you wait. Again,” she mutters mostly to herself. She zips up her cutesy pencil bag.

“Oh, no. I wanted to tell you that I’ll call you later. So you can relax. I’m gonna hang out at Kiba’s place.”

She looks up, her glassy eyes scanning him. She’s always had this way of seeing through him, or maybe it’s his imagination, maybe it’s that spiritual color of her irises...

“I’m fine.” His tone is so steady, even he’s surprised. Confessing and getting seriously rejected...it’s what he expected all along. Just finalizing what he thought could be his...way out...an escape from….

She grips her pencil bag in both hands, squeezing it as she searches him for any pain.

“Really. Don’t worry.” He just needs to look for a new distraction.

“Okay.” She makes that Hinata-smile. That small, trusting one. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Hey, Naruto! Let’s go already!” Kiba calls.

He starts walking backwards, saluting Hinata. “Go beat up your old man at judo!” “Alright,” she easily promises, even though her father, the coach, never actually participates in the practices that way. Unfailingly, Hinata will go along with whatever stupid thing Naruto says, even if it’s the same stupid joke every week, and it’s too cute to him. She waves, her relaxed smile bidding him permission to leave, and he turns around to dash out the door.

“...Do you and Hinata talk every night?” Kiba asks him as they walk down the corridor.

“No.” He doesn’t call her usually, actually, if they talk during the day, which is everyday. He just knows that Hinata probably wants to check on him today due to his confession.

“Oh.” Kiba sounds surprised, and it reminds him of his little mission to find out if everyone thinks he’s dating Hinata, but Kiba continues, “Do you get along with her dad?”

“Uhhhh…” He shrugs and laughs. “He probably hates me. Buuuuut there’s nothing he can do about it! He’s stuck with me for the rest of his life because I ain’t going anywhere!”

Shikamaru laughs, Kiba pats him on the back encouragingly, and it only strikes him at that moment how he must’ve sounded. He doesn’t mean it like that. He meant it like...

Shikamaru turns to look back at him. “You’ve said before that you don’t like him, right?”

“Oh yeah. For sure. Hinata’s dad sucks. If I were Hinata, I’d go full-delinquent just to spite him. He doesn’t have a single sympathetic bone in his body.” He sighs. “Hinata doesn’t cry, but sometimes I think she wants to. He puts way too much pressure on her for no reason.”

“Well, you’ll probably wear him out over time,” Shikamaru adds as they head down the stairwell.

“I think I’m already wearing him out!” he laughs, but that itch at the back of his mind begs for attention already. “Hey, so you know something funny Sakura-chan told me today?”

“What?” Shikamaru asks, and Kiba seconds the question.

As incredulously as possible, he finally airs his concern. “She told me that everyone thinks Hinata and I are in a relationship!”

Silence.

He’s at the verge of an awful realization.

Kiba looks at him, face all twisted up. “You guys aren’t together?!”

And all Naruto can do is mimic his confusion. “No! You thought so, too??”

Kiba grabs Shikamaru’s shoulder. “Shika, you thought so, too, didn’t you??”

To Naruto’s horror, Shikamaru turns to look at him with the same expression of confusion.

“No, you thought so, too??” Naruto points at him, the entire town’s highest IQ of this generation.

“Naruto. You mean to tell me you’re just friends with Hinata?”

“Well-” Somehow “just friends” sounds a bit derogatory in Shikamaru’s tone of voice. “-yeah? We’re childhood friends! You guys knew that! We’ve been together nearly all our lives!”

Kiba’s hands are on his head, and it looks like he’s experiencing some kind of migraine with his face incredibly pinched. “No, no, no, wait, wait. I don’t think even childhood friends operate the way you two do. Shino and I aren’t-” He gesticulates in the air meaninglessly. “-sharing food at lunch. Demanding the teachers to place us in the same class every year. Hovering over each other after tests and shit.”

Naruto stares at him, understanding that somehow all of their behavior has equated to romance. “...I mean, so? Hinata makes bomb tamagoyaki and korokke, she cooks for her family since her mother passed and her father is shitty, so she sometimes shares food with me, too. I’ve told you guys before that Iruka-sensei can’t cook, so Hinata’s food is literally the healthiest I eat all week. Also, Iruka-sensei knows that Hinata and I need to be in the same class, it’s like a...symbiosis! I keep her bullies away, she makes me do my work.”

Kiba’s not even looking at him anymore, his attention on Shino, Chouji, and Sai waiting by the shoe lockers, and Kiba shouts out, “Get a load of this nonsense! Naruto says he was never dating Hinata!”

It dawns on Naruto then. That when Sakura said everyone, she really did mean everyone. “Don’t tell me you guys thought that, too…”

Sai reacts first. “I called it! You really are gay. It’s okay-”

“Shut up, Sai! No! Why?? Why would you assume that??!” He wouldn’t normally be this upset about it, he has nothing against anyone else for their sexuality, but it’s that two people were saying that behind his back, and he can’t think of any reasons for it.

“Okay, but it really is unbelievable, isn’t it?” Kiba continues. “Naruto. You have to understand. You stick to her like glue!”

Shikamaru lets out a long, heavy sigh, as if he’s already over this conversation. Back turned, changing his shoes.

But Naruto himself isn’t. The way Kiba is putting it sounds way over-exaggerated, and as if the blame for this misunderstanding falls entirely on him. “Sticking to Hinata.” Upset, he shuts his locker with a loud clang. “We’re friends. It’s not a big deal like you’re making this sound.”

“It is kind of surprising, Naruto.” Chouji’s calmer observation is more agitating than it should be. “You two are sorta known as...the couple.”

Naruto turns sharply at this. “What do you mean? I thought Shika and Temari-senpai were ‘the couple.’”

Shikamaru grimaces at this, probably to mask a blush, but Naruto ignores that prime opportunity for teasing to see even Shino nodding in agreement.

“You’re really not dating…” Kiba says to no one in particular, blinking at the floor as he shuts his own locker.

“You don’t...like her?” Chouji asks in a much quieter tone than the earlier commotion.

“…I liked Sakura-chan…” Realizing all of this shows him he never stood a chance with Sakura. On top of him coming off as...just annoying...unsurprisingly, but still...he also seemed unavailable. Everyone thought he was unavailable.

That’s not Hinata’s fault. So that really is his own fault?

“I thought I was being obvious. That I liked Sakura-chan…” he mumbles, trying to get a stroke of affirmation from someone, anyone. “...Hinata knew. She encouraged me.”

“Really…” Kiba breathes, and at this point, Naruto is starting to see that Kiba is truly shocked.

“What was obvious was your special treatment with Hinata. You’re nice to her. You’re mean to everyone else,” Shino offers in reply, but it’s definitely not what he wanted to hear.

“You can’t be mean to Hinata, Shino. That’s just setting yourself up for a bad guilt-trip. Only assholes are mean to Hinata.” He’s stating the obvious. He feels like he’s been stating the obvious this entire time. How can it be that all of this wasn’t obvious?

Shino frowns. “But you are an assho-”

“Toneri’s going to be happy to hear about this,” Sai suddenly interjects with a chipper smile as they head toward the school gates, and Naruto’s temper shoots sky-high.

“First, fuck you, Shino-” He points at the bespectacled boy high-fiving Kiba. “-and fuck that fucker. I can be mean to that guy all I want, he’s asking for it!”

Shikamaru audibly sighs once again, but much more exasperated this time.

“What?! You don’t like him, either!”

“I don’t care either way about him! You’re the only one who hates him, Naruto.”

“Well you should hate him.”

“Uh…” Chouji starts. “What was the reason again? How come you don’t like Toneri?”

Within their first few months in high school, right before summer break. PE. Naruto already should have known what was going to happen, and it’s not that he doesn’t understand the...attraction...and it’s not that he’s so much better than any other guy, but… “Toneri was talking about Hinata in the locker room! After swimming!” Remembering it leaves a discomforting sourness in his mouth, a thickness in his throat, and irritating jitters of anger in his legs.

“Oh,” Chouji verbalizes, and the other guys make similar short sounds of understanding, and Naruto wants to tear his hair out.

“Seriously, fuck all of you.”

Chouji’s eyes widen in shame, Kiba makes a less-than-sorry face, Sai laughs out loud.

“This is why I’m mean to everyone except Hinata!”

“Naruto, you’ve never liked Hinata?” Shino asks in a sudden divergence. “You’ve never considered trying to date her?”

Caught off-guard, he feels the angry heat flee his legs, settling pink and stuffy in his chest. “No!” Minus the strange dreams from two years ago when his hormones were out of whack. And not counting holiday and birthday celebrations when she gives him handmade presents and chocolate and food, and she just has this way of making him feel really special. And not counting yesterday. When he watched her sleep was timing her nap. “It’s not like that between us.”

“...Are you sure it’s not?” Kiba asks.

“Yeah. It’s not like that. We’re friends and we like it that way.”

Shikamaru hums at this, pushing the crosswalk button at the first busy intersection. “What if Hinata likes you?”

His cheeks heat up reflexively, a type of bitter apprehension slinking at his skin, and he hopes it doesn’t show. “She doesn’t. She encouraged me about Sakura-chan. And if treating someone differently is a sign of feelings, she treats me the same as everyone else. She’s nice to everyone. She even greets fucking Toneri so nicely every morning.”

“Hm,” Sai sounds out thoughtfully. “So what if Hinata likes somebody? But you’ve been scaring everyone off?”

“...I don’t think she likes anyone,” he hesitantly considers. “She’s never said anything.” His mind flashes through the past, not finding any inkling of her showing great interest in anyone.

“But he doesn’t deny he’s scaring everyone off,” Shikamaru drawls out.

Kiba nods vigorously, pointing accusingly. “Yeah, yeahh. I was trying to place my finger on it this whole time, and yeahh!! You don’t let any guy talk to her! You always answer for her even if it’s the most mundane things. Like if she’s coming to a class party or not!”

“Hinata’s gay,” Sai states, and there are suddenly way too many things to think about.

He refutes everything.

From the street to Kiba’s house, during homework and video games, from Kiba’s house to back home, during a takeout dinner with his foster dad, up to the point he’s supposed to call Hinata before it gets too late, he’s still thinking.

--

Her phone finally vibrates, Naruto’s name lighting up her screen, later than she expected.

“Hello? Naruto-kun?” she greets.

“Hello, Hinata.”

“Good evening.” She takes a seat on her bed, grabs a lion-shaped pillow, and hugs it tight.

“Good evening.”

She waits for him to continue, but when he’s silent for three seconds, she carefully asks, “How was Kiba-san’s house?”

“It was fun. I got second place on Rainbow Road. Of course Kiba won.”

She ponders this piece of information. “Mario Kart?”

“Yep.”

“Good job!” she congratulates sincerely, but she doesn’t know how to address the metaphorical elephant in the room.

“So...I confessed to Sakura-chan during lunch.”

She bites her lips, glad that he brought it up on his own. “Mhm.”

“It was...a relief. Just letting it go, ya know, it’s not a big deal.”

She remembers his tears yesterday. She remembers how moody he was. But she doesn’t bring up any of it. She’s nodding, and she realizes he can’t see her nonverbal responses. “You’re okay?” she quietly asks.

“Yeah. I’m fine. But…”

Internally she freezes up in fear. She doesn’t want Naruto to hurt. She doesn’t want him to suffer in any way.

“...Hinata…”

“...Yes?...Is something wrong?” Panic slowly builds along her consciousness with each second of his hesitation.

“Ugh...um...you have to be honest, okay?”

At a loss, she can’t immediately agree. “...What is it?”

“Do I get in your way?”

She can’t ever remember a time Naruto got in her way. She doesn’t think they’ve even ever accidentally bumped into each other. “...Huh?”

“Or, like...do I bother you?”

“No…? Naruto-kun? Why would you ask that? You never bother me.”

“Okay. Okay, yeah, okay. That’s good! I mean, I didn’t think I was, I don’t want to bother you, it’s just- No, what I should ask…”

She waits, wishing she was right next to him so that she could see every expression. If she could see him, she could try to help him with the words…

“Hey, Hinata, so, I know that you’re not very talkative about your feelings. Not like me, how I just say whatever, however, bam! You know? Haha, so it’s all out there, and you know...pretty much everything. And, I feel like I can usually read your moods or at least, I feel like I know you, like, we’ve been friends for a long time, so, yeah.”

She hums an affirmation.

“And...so like, you know how you used to have those bullies?”

She blushes a bit. “Mhm.”

“So, I know I got them to stop bothering you.”

“Mhmm. Thank you,” she murmurs.

“Oh, no, I’m just saying, that I don’t like people bothering you.”

“Mm. Thank you,” she quietly repeats anyway.

“Oh, yeah… Well, I still don’t want people bothering you.”

She smiles in confusion, charmed and utterly lost in his thought process. “...Hm? No one bullies me anymore,” she shyly informs him. “You don’t have to worry, Naruto-kun. I think people grew out of that behavior.”

“Oh, okay. Yeah. Yeah. No. Well. So. Haagh.”

Hearing his frustrated sigh, she tenses. “Naruto-kun? What’s wrong??”

“Hinata. You don’t have to tell me anything if you feel uncomfortable, but I feel like maybe I’ve been, I dunno, too much or something. But, ugh. Is there anyone that you like?”

She jerks straight, bewildered and caught off-guard.

“You can tell me those kinds of things, too, Hinata. You were there for me about Sakura-chan, so I feel like I should try to support you, too...you know...with things like that..if you want.”

She can’t tell him that she likes someone. Because if she does, he’ll inevitably want to know who it is. And she can’t tell him who it is. Not today of all days. Not tomorrow. Probably not any time soon. But now that she’s been silent for so long-

“You like someone.”

“Um...no. I don’t know.” She blinks rapidly, finding her noncommittal answer a safe bet.

“Oh. Well...who were you thinking of…?”

“Um…” She squeezes her plushie tighter, faces of boys flashing through her mind. It doesn’t really matter who she chooses if she said she doesn’t know if she likes them or not. “Well… Toneri-san is nice.” Toneri always very politely greets her in the morning, which is nice. And he seems smart and polite to the teachers. So, technically, she’s not lying. Another positive is he’s not in Naruto’s group of friends.

She holds her breath, waiting for his reaction.

She starts to worry when she doesn’t hear anything. She checks her phone’s screen just to make sure they didn’t somehow disconnect.

“...Naruto-kun? Are you there-”

“Hinata, you can’t be serious.” He sounds upset.

“Well. I don’t-”

“Toneri’s NOT nice.”

“Oh, well, I-”

“Are you serious?!”

“Well, no, I don’t know…” She squirms, flummoxed and wondering what could be so wrong with Toneri. “Toneri-san seems nice, he says good morning to me and he’s polite…”

“HINATA. He’s NOT nice!”

She considers herself a pretty good judge of character, so she starts to feel a bit offended. Naruto’s practically yelling at her, and she doesn’t like that, either. “Why do you say he’s not nice? He seems nice to me-”

“That’s-!...That’s because you’ve only seen him in the classroom!! You don’t know what he’s really like!! You shouldn’t like him! He’s NOT nice! He’s NOT a good guy!”

She frowns, finding Naruto’s vehemence somehow upsetting, especially after everything he said about trying to support her. It all just seems a bit rude and dismissive of her feelings, even if these supposed feelings are fake. He doesn’t know that it’s fake, so shouldn’t he be trying to be more sensitive? “Well, Naruto-kun,” she starts, frustration coloring her voice. “I said I don’t know! So, I don’t know if I like him, and, and maybe I don’t! And-, well, you wanted me to tell you, so I told you! And, and, you don’t have to yell at me! You don’t have to tell me like that. Maybe, maybe Toneri-san’s not nice like you say, but you don’t have to yell at me.”

“...No, Hinata, I wasn’t yelling at you-”

“Yes, you were.”

“No, I was just...I wasn’t yelling at you. I was just- I don’t want you to- Ugh...Hinata… are you mad at me?”

She blinks, confused as to how things devolved so quickly into this unnecessary mess. She doesn’t even like Toneri in that way.

“I’m sorry. Shit, fuck. I just, out of all the guys in the class, and you like Toneri?”

She doesn’t like Toneri. She can’t believe this ridiculous conversation is happening. “No, I don’t like him.”

“Hinata…you’re lying to me, aren’t you.”

“I don’t like him,” she states with zero room for argument. “I thought he seemed nice, but if he’s not nice, then I don’t like him.”

“...He’s not a nice guy.”

“Okay.”

“You’re just saying ‘okay’ to agree with me. I can tell.”

Mindlessly she squeezes the ear of the lion pillow, regretting ever saying someone’s name. She should have just said that there was no one, even if he didn’t believe her. “I don’t know myself that Toneri-san isn’t a nice guy because he’s always been nice to me. But if you’ve seen otherwise, I have no reason to not believe you, Naruto-kun. You’re friends with a lot of people, but I noticed that you’re not friends with him. I didn’t know that there was any particular reason for it…” She could ask why he thinks Toneri’s not nice, but she realizes she just doesn’t want to drag this on any longer. “I know that you’re looking out for me...you always do.”

“...I’m sorry, Hinata. I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

“Mm, I know, it’s okay.”

He sighs hard and long. “...So...how was judo practice?”

With the forced change of topic, they settle back into their normal dynamic, and even after what she might consider a heated argument, she finds herself falling a little more in love.

She doesn’t know what she expected from Naruto. His response was on-brand for him. He’s always been protective, and it seems as though he’s never considered before that she might like someone.

If she didn’t like him, she could share that part of herself. They could truly be friends, in everything, no matter the problem. But this will just have to be an important part of herself that she keeps closed off from him.

What Naruto said is true--she doesn’t reciprocate his vulnerability.

The day she does, they won’t be friends anymore.

But apparently, no one thought they were friends in the first place.

“Is it true?” Ino whispers fiercely along with the other girls in the class before the bell rings.

Sakura stands, arms folded, beside her. They tower over her desk, and she gets the feeling that she’s in an interrogation.

“Sakura said that you and Naruto were never in a relationship.” Her tone is accusing.

Sakura nods. “That’s what Naruto told me! So it’s not that you two broke up?”

Hinata stares at them. Something like fear tenses through her. Embarrassment clenches across her skin. “What?”

“Naruto told me that you two were never in a relationship! We all thought that you guys were dating, or liked each other, or something!”

Her stomach flips. The truth is that it is one-way, they’re at least half-right, but she has to shake her head, deny their imaginations. “We’ve known each other since before his parents passed. Our mothers were friends.”

“The two of you are really close, though,” Sakura presses.

“Mmm..I guess…” But not as close as she wishes they could be.

“I can’t believe this,” Sakura mutters, hand on her forehead. “You two had us fooled since middle school.”

Hinata bites her lip as memories of middle school flash across her mind.

When Naruto’s parents passed in the first year and Sasuke abruptly moved away. She was the only one he talked to for weeks.

When Naruto was in the wrong place at the wrong time and got into a physical altercation with a delinquent from another school. And she volunteered to bring him his schoolwork while he stayed home.

When she fainted due to her period. And Naruto was there in the Health Room when she woke up.

When she was running in PE, and like a dumb klutz, she fell, the proverbial “eating it,” and skinned open her knees and hands, blood everywhere. And Naruto let her lean on him all the way to the Health Room.

...She can see why they thought so. And she can see why she always wants to be first in his life. She doesn’t want to give up her spot by his side to anyone. But… “We’re just...childhood friends, so we know each other really well.”

“Hmm, so you two have never thought about being more than friends?” Ino squints at her, and Hinata blinks back.

She can feel her stomach tightening, she feels the color draining from her face, and she knows she needs to say something. “Well...no...we haven’t really talked about that kind of thing together… and I don’t have time for a boyfriend...my father wouldn’t approve of me dating...”

“Hinata, you don’t need to date to have a boyfriend,” Sakura states, leaning in close. “And you two already act like a couple, so like hell anyone could ever compete unless you both got into some ridiculous argument, and you have Naruto whipped; he’d never argue with you anyway, so really the only difference here is that you guys aren’t kissing, so the question is-” Sakura sits up, and Ino’s and the other girls’ eyes are sparkling with delight. “-have you never thought about kissing him?”

Her jaw drops, her mouth trying to settle around syllables that won’t come.

Their expressions brighten and brighten, smiles growing wider and wider.

“Good morning!” Naruto’s voice barges through the huddle, and everyone stands straighter, revealing the rest of him to her frozen gaze. “Hinata! What’s going on-”

She stands, her chair clunking back loudly. “No,” she intones, and she can hear the hurt in her voice, too much revealed. “Sakura-chan, how could you ask that?” It’s a cutting accusation that she doesn’t have time to regret as she pushes past them and heads out for the bathroom.

But it’s obvious to her. Naruto’s feelings didn’t register meaningfully at all in Sakura’s conscience, his weighty confession holding no light in her heart the way Naruto wished, and she doesn’t understand whether to feel relieved or upset. Relief that Sakura could never reciprocate. Or upset that maybe that’s how it is to confess to an unrequited love. In the end, the action is meaningless for the receiver…

“Hinata, Hinata!” Sakura comes running up to her side. “Go away, Naruto.”

He’s there, too, arms crossed and an angry expression that is surprising to see directed towards his crush. “Hell no.”

“Well I can’t talk to her if you’re here!”

“Yes, you can! There’s nothing that you have to say to Hinata that I can’t hear, too! Even if it’s girly shit, it’s natural, it’s not anything to be ashamed about, just pretend like I’m not here!” But his voice is far from acting like he plans on fading into the background. Plenty of threat in his enunciation.

“It’s not that! You’re ruining the mood!”

“Good! From what I could tell, the mood was shitty before I got here!”

Sakura tsks and groans, her eyes rolling dramatically. “You’re not even dating her, so actually, you don’t need to be here! Stop acting like her boyfriend if you don’t want to be one!”

“What?! What does that have to do with anything? What?! I’m her friend!”

“Yeah, you are.” Sakura stares at him, fake smile plastered on. “I am, too.” Sakura hustles them to the bathroom, slides open the door, and pushes her inside.

But Naruto grabs the handle, keeping it from sliding shut again. “Say what you gotta say out here!”

“Go! You’re going to make us late to class if this takes any longer!”

“Then say what you gotta say right now!”

“Then let me close the door!”

“No! I might as well just come in then anyway! Not like you girls pee out in the open!”

“NARUTO-”

“Naruto-kun.” Hinata stares at his shoes, and she’s amazed at how they both quieted. “Hinata-thing” he called it. “I should let Sakura-chan talk to me.” She looks up to see his stern gaze. “I know that you mean well, but you can go back.”

His face scrunches up adorably. He looks like he wants to say more, but he jerks a glare at Sakura before letting go of the door, letting it slide closed between them.

“Oh my gosh,” Sakura sighs. Then suddenly, Hinata finds herself in one of Sakura’s notorious squeezes. A hug of vice-like strength. “I’m sorry, I got carried away. I got excited, and I...wasn’t thinking. Please forgive me, Hinata.”

“Mm,” she manages to sound out.

Sakura lets her go, and honestly, Hinata feels like the bad emotions got squeezed out of her. A therapeutic hug.

“I’m sorry, too, Sakura-chan. I overreacted, and I, I knew you didn’t do any of that intentionally.”

“No, no, it’s my fault.”

She shakes her head.

Sakura offers a small smile. “So...you like that knucklehead, huh.”

“...How could I not?”

“What? More like, how could you??” Sakura laughs. “But I guess I see what you mean. He really dotes on you, so if it’s always been like that… Anyway, thanks for making him go away. I would’ve hated to have to leave without apologizing properly.”

“Sakura-chan…” Hinata grabs Sakura into a tight hug, too, remembering then that today’s her last day.

“Good luck, Hinata, with everything. I’ll miss you so much.”

“I’ll miss you, too, Sakura-chan.”

--

By the end of school, Naruto had been asked several times in variations: “You and Hinata broke up??” The rumor of never dating morphing into breaking up isn’t really that hard to imagine, but the question still got progressively more and more irritating to take.

They make it sound as if they got tired of each other! Or as if they just stopped liking each other and decided to call their relationship quits! As if they stopped seeing eye-to-eye or somehow lost interest in each other or maybe even got in an argument that was just too tough. A few people went on to say it must’ve been his fault, as if there’s an inherent problem that not even Hinata could overlook. Talk about offensive.

He’s relieved that it’s the weekend, and he hopes that all of this will blow over by Monday.

To all this venting, his foster father only stares wide-eyed, nodding appropriately, frowning.

“Hinata and I are childhood friends. I had to keep explaining that over and over!”

Iruka nods sympathetically.

“Hinata told me herself that I’ve never been a bother to her! These people! They don’t understand that our friendship is-” Naruto gestures with stressed hands, trying to find the right words. “-it’s unbreakable? Deep? You know?-”

“Yeah, yeah-”

“Like it’s…” Naruto frowns, trying to express the unshakable faith he has that Hinata would never just let their relationship dissolve. “...beyond what they think. Not every boy and girl who are friends are dating.”

“Yeah, of course.” Iruka nods enthusiastically. “That’s very true, Naruto. I guess at your age, most boys and girls aren’t as close as you two are, so everyone made very wrong assumptions. Hinata’s such a nice girl, so I do hope that the two of you continue to get along.”

Naruto nods, feeling affirmed for once in the last 36 hours or so.

“How did Hinata take all of this?”

“...Uhhh…..” He mentally traces back through the day.

He waited outside of the girls’ bathroom until they came out, booking it to the classroom before the bell rang. Sakura and Hinata didn’t answer his expectant look, opting instead to run.

But when they opened the classroom door, the first thing that greeted them was fucking-Toneri’s question: “Wait, Hinata, Naruto, so are you two dating or not?”

He was shot back nearly 12 hours to the night before when Hinata confessed that maybe she likes Toneri. And so his attention flickered straight over to catch Hinata’s reaction.

She was speechless, hesitant, pink at her cheeks, and slowly her gaze turned toward him, a meekness that he read as something akin to guilt, and he couldn’t help but suspect that she may still like Toneri, even after his warnings and her assurances.

Discomfort was twisting and clawing in his gut, quickly followed by annoyance. Why does it even matter to Toneri? “No,” he stated clearly, with as much a tone of isn’t-it-obvious? as possible. “We’re childhood friends! We’ve never dated!”

The classroom erupted into I-told-you-so’s and no-way’s just as the bell rang. And Hinata and Sakura promptly found their desks.

“I don’t know. Probably surprised…” At that moment, he realizes that he didn’t even think to warn her the night before. It didn’t even occur to him to tell her what happened with Sakura, Shikamaru, and Kiba. If she was surprised, that was totally preventable on his end. But he was way more concerned about whether he’s been bothering her or getting in her way.

That, and...what if she likes someone? What if she really does like Toneri?

If she really does, he would tell her what Toneri’s said to deter her...but what if...what if, since she likes him anyway, she doesn’t mind? What if that just encourages her?

Pissed off, he goes to play some games.

Yet not too much later, Hinata calls him. He turns her on-speaker.

“Hello? Hinata?”

“Good evening, Naruto-kun.”

“Good evening. I’m kind of in the middle of game. Is something up?”

“Oh. It can wait. I’ll call you later.”

“Yeah, okay...my team’s winning, so may be 10 minutes left. I’ll call you after.”

“Okay.”

He can’t focus on his game. He can’t enjoy his game. He manages to finish it anyway so that his account doesn’t get flagged for ditching, but it’s with an uneasy spirit that he picks up his phone.

A message from Hinata reads, “Nevermind, it’s okay. You can play, and we can talk another time! Good luck!”

“What?” he verbalizes aloud to no one. Ignoring her message, he calls her anyway. “Hinata? What’s up?”

“Oh, no, Naruto-kun...I’m sorry for interrupting your game.”

“No, it’s fine, we won. And it’s just a game.”

“...okay.”

“So, what is it?”

“Well, I…” Her voice is quiet. Melancholy. She’s sad about something, and it could be any number of things, from her shitty father to the incident this morning, or anything in-between. “...I didn’t know why you were asking me all those questions last night, but now I see. I’m sorry.” She sounds mournfully apologetic.

But he has no idea why she would feel the need to apologize. He’s about to ask when she continues.

“I ruined your chance with Sakura-chan.”

Shock makes his brain freeze in place. “What?!”

“I…’ve been...in your way.”

“What, no,” he intones in full-on disagreement. “No. No, no. Hinata, no. It’s not your fault. Sakura-chan wouldn’t have liked me anyway… and fate had other plans, so it wouldn’t have worked out.”

“Still...I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for. If anything, I should thank you for making me go through with it, and now I can move on, you know? It just wasn’t in the cards for me.”

“...hm.”

He’s always known she’s had this stubborn streak in her. There’s nothing he can do about it. Talking and reasoning with her doesn’t work, and she’ll just pretend to agree just so that they can move on. It’s maddening and confusing. He sighs. “This morning you must’ve been surprised.”

“Um..yes… I didn’t know people saw us that way.”

“I didn’t know, either.” He grimaces a smile even though she can’t see it. “Pretty crazy, huh?”

“Yeah… I’m sorry…”

“Hinata!” he shouts and he hopes that she understands that he’s not mad but exasperated. “It’s not your fault! They’re all just dumbos!”

“Well I...you… you don’t like it, right? I’ve been too...too much.”

Exasperation molts into frustration. “It’s not your fault, and you haven’t been too much. You’re never too much.” An itch at the back of his mind annoys him, and he realizes that he never apologized for not forewarning her. But he doesn’t think he should or needs to. That would validate Hinata’s apologies. “It’s not our fault. We’re not wrong, Hinata! We’re friends! And friends are there for each other! We’ve known each other all our lives! I shouldn’t need to explain this to you, too, right??”

“....”

He waits impatiently, tense in his face and in his grip on the phone.

“...I know you don’t want to hear it again-”

He rolls his eyes, already knowing she’s about to apologize again.

“I’m just...I’m just sorry, Naruto-kun...I can’t explain it. I know and understand what you mean, and, and, I’m just… I think maybe I need to… I don’t know.”

Perplexed, he straightforwardly asks, “What? What’s wrong, Hinata?”

“As long as I’m beside you, I, I…”

He quiets. Her stuttering and pauses are getting worse, and he worries now that she’s really upset. More upset than when she first called.

“I think...I think….I think I need to…”

“...Hinata?” His throat starts closing up with her building anxiety.

“I think I need to spend less time with you,” she whispers.

He squints, wondering if he heard her correctly. “What?”

“If, if we keep being...the way we are… people are always going to misunderstand...and...and, Naruto-kun, you wouldn’t like that, right?”

“I don’t care what anyone thinks! They’re all just idiots! What do you mean by spend less time with me?”

“We probably...spend too much time together...and, and so, and, and Sakura-chan said that, she said that it seems like no one can...get between us…. Naruto-kun, I mean, what I mean is, you wouldn’t, be able to have a girlfriend...because of me…”

“Why would Sakura-chan say that?” As if he didn’t already have a reason to be upset with Sakura. He’s getting over that crush a lot faster than he could have predicted. “Is that what got you mad at her this morning?”

“N-no…”

“Well, then, what? Why are you putting words in my mouth? What makes you think that I want a girlfriend?”

“...Don’t you…? Want a girlfriend…?”

“Well, I don’t know-”

“Isn’t that...isn’t that why you confessed…?”

He hadn’t quite thought of it that way. Usually that’s what confessions are for after all, but for some reason, he didn’t even consider what would happen if Sakura took him up on his feelings. “I don’t know,” he fumblingly defends. “I don’t need a girlfriend!” he decides, suddenly feeling against-the-grain and righteously defiant. “Who needs a girlfriend! I have you! You’re a girl and you’re my friend, and I get along with you better than a lot of other girls, so who needs one!”

“...but Naruto-kun...I’m...not...a...your...girlfriend...and, and...you’re not….my….boyfriend…..”

His gut drops as he realizes that somehow, she’s not on the same page as him. His words aren’t solving the problem, this isn’t as simple as he’d like it to be. This isn’t about him. This is about… “Hinata. You...want a boyfriend?”

“...I...maybe...I don’t know…”

Cold discomfort works across his skin and clenches sorely at his gut. She basically said yes. He’s basically not good enough. He’s not enough, and for whatever reason, Hinata would rather have a boyfriend over being his friend. “Why? You’d rather have some guy...buying you stuff and carrying your bag and...taking you on expensive dates?” he accuses with disgust.

“No!...Naruto-kun!...I don’t-...I’m not like that-!”

He already knows she’s not the shallow type, but if it’s not that, then… “Is this-” Horrid realization upsets him even more. “-because you like Toneri?!” She would rather have Toneri close to her than have his friendship?! Their years-old friendship?! She’d throw him aside for Toneri?!

“What? I, I don’t like Toneri-san!”

He tsks in irritation. “Don’t- Stop lying to me! I saw your face this morning when he asked about us! When we got back to the classroom!”

“I don’t like him!”

“I know what I saw! You got all shy and-” He remembers how she blushed and how her eyes lowered before peeking to see his own reaction, how self-conscious she was. “-you got all embarrassed! You’re embarrassed of me? You do think that I’m in your way! That’s why you suggested we spend less time together, that’s so that you can get closer to Toneri?” Bile’s closing up his throat repeatedly, rising up and sinking down like this realization he can’t swallow.

“No! Naruto-kun, no! This, this morning, that was...that’s not why! It wasn’t because of Toneri-san! I don’t like him! I really don’t like him!”

She’s denying everything so easily, he pauses to think that maybe she really doesn’t like Toneri. “...Then what, Hinata? Why are you being like this? If it’s not because you like Toneri, then why don’t you want to be my friend anymore!”

“Naruto-kun, I do...I do still want to be your friend.”

He thinks she might be crying. Her voice is trembling and quiet and strained, but for once, he doesn’t feel bad because he thinks he might cry, too. “But not like how we are now. You’re too worried about what other people think and you want a boyfriend and I’m not your boyfriend so you’re telling me to back off so that others don’t keep getting the wrong idea about us. You don’t have bullies anymore so you don’t need me anymore, huh. I get it. You want to distance yourself. Fine.”

“No! That’s not it!”

He thinks about how it would be if she did have a boyfriend. Another guy, like Toneri, would always be in her vicinity, and he’d be the extra. Whenever he looks at Hinata, some dude, like Toneri, would be sitting by her. She’d be sharing her food first with...a guy like Toneri...and turning first to...a guy like Toneri...smiling first at… “I’m okay with it. Do whatever you want.” He suddenly wants to shut his mind off. He hates this.

“Naruto-kun, I do still want to be your friend!”

“Yeah, whatever, Hinata, just...whatever...I don’t care.” If she doesn’t want to care about him anymore, then he doesn’t have to, either.

“Well I-! Naruto-kun! I care! And I care too much! And that’s why!”

She’s crying for sure now, her voice is thick and heated, and fat tears burn fast to his own eyes because he doesn’t get it. “Then what is it, Hinata!! Are we arguing about nothing?!”

“I...I...I don’t...I don’t know…”

“What?!” He’s so upset and frustrated and confused and angry. He’s angry. “I lied, okay! I care! I care, too! So what is it! You can’t just say shit like this, Hinata, and expect me to not get mad! We’ve been friends for...for 10 years practically! And it pisses me off that you’re not telling me what’s wrong! Is it the boyfriend thing? Is it that other people thought we were dating? Is it me?! Is it something about me? Or is it about Sakura-chan?? What did she say to you this morning? Did she hurt you? I’m over her already if it’s going to be like this.”

“...It’s...it’s not Sakura-chan, Naruto-kun. She’s perfect, and, and I understand why you like her, she’s fun and pretty and happy and honest.”

He closes his eyes, head in his free hand. He’s tired and confused and a part of him just really wants this conversation to be over. “What are you saying? What is it then?”

“...”

“Why aren’t you telling me what it is?” In her silence, the cloud of frustration starts to wane. In its place grows a different pain. Every shade of hurt tonight. He didn’t know he could suffer in so many ways, and now it’s like his life force is slowly leaking out of him as his newest realization takes form. And this time, he gets the feeling he’s not jumping to conclusions. “What did I do, Hinata.”

“You...you didn’t do anything.”

“Bullshit. You don’t want to tell me what it is, so the problem must have something to do with me after all. We’ve always been able to work things out. You’ve always helped me. I’ve always helped you. You’re afraid of hurting my feelings? Just say it. Rip the bandaid off.”

“I...I can’t.”

“I promise I won’t get mad. Whatever it is, Hinata. I just…” He wants this to be over. He wants things to be how they usually are. “What do you want me to do? Is it because of this morning? Are you mad that I followed you and Sakura-chan to the bathroom?”

“No. It’s not that.”

“...Okay…” He can’t think of anything else he could have done recently. “When did it happen? Today, right?”

“No….Naruto-kun….it’s not something you did really...it’s something with me.”

So the problem’s not with him? He wakes up a little, as if a noose around his neck slackened and his death isn’t imminent. “Tell me. I’ll be the judge of that.”

“...I...I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called. I didn’t want any of this to happen. I...now’s not the right time, and...nevermind. I’m sorry, Naruto-kun.”

He’s perked up now. “Nevermind?! You think after all of this, after twisting me around for the past...however long we’ve been talking...you can just say nevermind??? No, Hyuga Hinata. You’re going to tell me right now!”

“...It’s...no good, Naruto-kun. I can’t. In the end, it doesn’t matter. I’ve been like this for….years now...and it’s been fine...so, it’s okay.”

“Years? What do you mean, years?” He hasn’t noticed something for years? “Tell me. I want to know, Hinata! If it’s been years, then of course it matters! Anything about you matters. C’mon. Tell me.”

“Naruto-kun...I don’t want to say it.”

He feels like he’s finally reached the truth of the matter. It just lies beneath a black cloth, and all they’d have to do is uncover it. All she’d have to do is show it to him, and he’d know what to do. They’d figure it out. “Why don’t you want to tell me?”

“I just...can’t say it now. It’s not the right time.”

“When will it be the right time?”

“...I don’t know...maybe never…”

“Never?! No! You owe me this after all of the fear you just put me through! I thought I just lost my best friend! Again!” First his parents, then Sasuke.

“Naruto-kun....I’m sorry...I’ll tell you when the time is right…”

“You just said that the time might never be right!”

“I promise. I promise to tell you.”

He bristles. They’ve never broken a promise to each other. Promises are kind of their thing. But with that knowledge, it feels like a cop-out. “That’s cheating. What could possibly happen if you tell me now. Hinata, I could help you. If this is about us, then I should know anyway, right? I can help you. I want to help. I want to do my part. Don’t you trust me?”

“...”

“C’mon, Hinata. I’m here and I’m ready to hear it.”

“...”

“Hinata?...It’s always been you and me. And whatever it is, it’s not going to change things between us, I’m sure of it.”

“...Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow, can you meet me by the river?”

“Oh.” The place that he mentally dubs their Thinking Place. “Yeah. What time?”

“Mmm...11. I’ll bring lunch.”

“You’ll bring lunch?” The world brightens at that, and suddenly he really can’t wait. “Okay. I’ll bring drinks.”

“Okay.”

He can hear the trepidation in her voice, but he knows there’s no need for her to worry. He knows that if it’s something important, something serious that’s been years-in-the-making, he’ll treat it with care, too. “Hinata. It’s going to be nice. We haven’t had a picnic together in ages. We’re going to be okay.”

“Mm. Goodnight, Naruto-kun.”

“...Goodnight, Hinata.” He waits for her to end the call before putting his phone down. He wonders what world-splitting secret she has to tell him. What could possibly get her so worked up, and then not trust him to just tell him.

Maybe she did something in their past that’s making her feel guilty? Maybe...maybe she’s gay like Sai said...and she doesn’t want to be mistaken as being into boys……..those kinds of sensitive things are hard to say to anyone, right?....….Maybe it really is something having to do with him. Of course Hinata would say the problem is with her even if the problem is with him.

No matter what it is, he vows he’s going to treat tomorrow’s Hinata with care. More care than tonight, definitely. He’ll apologize for his outbursts…

He’ll apologize now.

He starts typing out a message: I’m sorry for making you cry. I swear I won’t act like this tomorrow. Or ever again. I won’t make you cry again.

He frowns. He really is being crazy. Wasn’t he himself the one who said only assholes are mean to Hinata? And somehow he gets the feeling he was being mean all night. No matter what it is, he shouldn’t have gotten angry.

He really is an asshole, just like Shino said.

Guilt builds up as he stares at his message.

He adds on: I promise.

Feeling a little better about it, the promise instilled across his heart, he presses send.

He waits for an answer, but one doesn’t come.

--

It’s her luck that her father’s at work Saturday morning. No one besides Hanabi to witness her cooking for Naruto as if it’s his birthday.

“A date?” Hanabi asks with teasing eyes and an expectant smile. “With Naruto-senpai?”

She shakes her head as she wraps up their food.

Ten minutes later, ready and at the door, Hinata spies her sister peeking at her. “Hanabi, what is it?”

“You look nice,” she casually observes.

“...Thanks…” She wants to hate herself for trying so hard. Trying so hard with the food. Trying so hard with her clothes. She’s always been a try-hard. She knows that Naruto only sees her as a friend, a childhood friend, but still she’s trying. “Call me if anything, Hanabi. Don’t worry about bothering me, okay? And yes, I am going to be out with Naruto-kun--it’s not a date--I’ll come right back if you need me.”

“I’m old enough to take care of myself, Nee-san.” Hanabi pouts and crosses her arms. “I’m not going to burn the house down or anything.”

“Hmmm, famous last words….”

“Well don’t jinx me!”

Hinata laughs despite her melancholy mood. “I know you’ll be fine. You’re smarter than I was at your age.”

Hanabi preens at this. “Have fun with Naruto-senpai~!”

“I’ll be back.”

“Take care!”

The bike ride to the riverside is quick. Nerves speed her over, and she hopes she got there before him to sort her feelings out some more.

But surprisingly, he’s already there.

One of those cheapy pink-trimmed goza mats laid out on the grass. A curious, small, wrapped bouquet laying beside him. A small cooler bag, likely filled with vending machine drinks. He’s sitting there in his casual white sweatshirt and blue jeans, gaze focused on the river.

She slows her approach and quietly steps off her bicycle. Taking a deep breath, she begins the descent off the path. “Naruto-kun.”

“Hinata!” He turns to her with the brightest smile. So bright, it’s blinding.

She wonders if he would ever give her that soft smile. That one he briefly showed whenever he spotted Sakura.

He stands up. “Hello!”

“Hello.” Carefully, she takes their bento from her bike’s basket and places it on the mat. “Were you waiting long?”

“Mm, well, I had nothing better to do, honest.” He turns suddenly and grabs the bouquet. “This is for you.” He holds the tulips out expectantly.

“Oh.” A blush rises, discomfort following soon after. It’s not fair that he acts this way. So unthinkingly.

“You like pink, right?”

“Yes,” she mumbles, finally taking the flowers, her eyes focused on the small blooms.

“I really sucked last night, Hinata. I’m sorry. I mean it. I can’t believe you cooked for me still. You should run me over with your bicycle. Or smack me with those flowers.”

She clutches the potential weapon tighter to her chest and lays her bicycle down in response. “It was my fault. You had every right to get upset.”

“No, I didn’t. You were crying. And...I can’t believe I made you cry.”

She knows she never replied to his message. She couldn’t acknowledge his promise since he doesn’t know what he’s doing, he doesn’t know that he has no control over how much of a crybaby she is, whether she cries after this, too. She shakes her head, denying his words, and takes a seat.

“Hinata...I’m serious, you know. I said a lot of mean things last night and I’m really sorry. I care a lot. I really, really care. I mean, like, look at you. I act like a jackass and the next morning, you’ve made a picnic for us. You know? Like, Hinata…”

At the pause in his nonstop talking, she finishes unknotting the handkerchief holding their bento and peers up at him.

Blue eyes search hers, and she wonders if this is one of the last times they’ll ever be able to look each other in the eyes.

“What?” she whispers.

“You do know that you can’t possibly tell me anything that would make me want to stop being friends with you, right? You could tell me to do anything, and I’d probably do it for you, like, I don’t have anyone besides you from my childhood… So if it’s space that you want, I’ll do it, as long as we’ll still be friends. If this is supposed to be our last lunch together or something...I can accept that...if you tell me why…”

She works her stress into the corners of the handkerchief, folding and unfolding the corners. She’s shocked that Naruto could sense that she meant this to be an ending for them. He’s always been weirdly perceptive at the most random times. Most times he’s as dense as a brick. “Let’s...eat first...okay?”

When she looks back at him, she’s never seen him look at her with so much hurt. Like she really did hit him with her bicycle and smacked him with the tulips...or something worse. He looks away, and his eyes squeeze shut.

“Naruto-kun…”

“I’m okay, I’m just…” He shakes his head. “I’m not okay, but I’m saying I’m okay. Okay? So, please pretend that I’m okay.”

It’s not fair that he’s so honest. It’s not fair that he needs comfort. It’s not fair that he’s the victim of her feelings. It’s not fair that she fell in love, and he didn’t. None of this is fair.

“What did you make for our last lunch together?”

She knows that he meant to try to joke around, but now she feels like crying. She takes off the cover and passes the top container to him. The bright, flower-shaped carrots in the nishime, the nori face on the onigiri, the heart-shaped tamagoyaki, all of it is too cheerful.

“It’s so cute, Hinata..it’s like my birthday...thank you.” He opens the cooler bag, takes out bottles of iced green tea for them, and passes one over.

She passes him chopsticks, and quietly they murmur their gratitude.

But he doesn’t start eating. He’s just staring at the lunch.

So she can’t start eating, either. Not that she really has an appetite. She just wants him to enjoy the food she made for him. “....Is the food not what you like anymore…?”

“It is. You made all my favorites…”

She thought so. He’s like a kid still. He always wants the potato korokke and tamagoyaki. “Please enjoy it…”

He sighs, a heavy sound that makes her heart squeeze sorely with shame. Slowly, he lifts his chopsticks. After a bit of deliberation, he starts eating the nishime. “...It’s really good, Hinata.”

“I’m glad.”

They eat quietly and unenthusiastically for another minute when he puts his chopsticks down. “I can’t.”

She stops, too. The twisting of her nerves makes her feel like she’s going to be sick, the understanding that he’s waiting for her to spill her secret like a sword’s tip sharp at her spine.

“Tell me what it is so that I’m not just miserably waiting for the axe to fall.”

So that’s how he feels.

Frowning, she focuses on the smooth cracks between the dried stems of the mat. Running her fingernail along a crack, she goes through what she had planned last night. A slow revealing of what she already knows. Slow enough for him to hopefully understand, too. “Where do you...see us...in a few years.”

“...What do you mean? Like...university?”

“Mhm.”

“We’ll both be majoring in something…I guess…”

“Do you think we’ll be able to go to the same school?”

“That would be awesome.”

Hinata nods, eyes focused on the shine of the mat’s straws. “Do you think we’ll be in the same classes?”

“Mmmmm...probably not, huh, realistically, our studies would probably be different.”

“...Would we still hang out?”

“Yeah, of course! We could still study together, even if it’s different subjects, we could at least be in the same room to do homework.”

“What about...meals?”

“...Yeah. Yeah, Hinata. If possible, yeah. The school cafeteria or….restaurants around the university. If our schedules allow for it...I’d like that...”

She can hear the hesitation now, the confusion marring his tone, but she hums an agreement. “What if you meet someone?”

“Huh?”

“A girl you like. Then we wouldn’t be able to eat together, right? Or study together…”

“Hinata.” His sharp tone forces her attention on him, and she sees the look of irritation that he probably had on the night before. “You asked about where I see us. I wasn’t seeing any imaginary girl, I was imagining us.”

“Okay,” she murmurs, accepting that he won’t take further questioning on that topic. “Then what about ten years? Where do you see us in ten years?”

“Five years, ten years, twenty! It doesn’t matter to me, I want us to still be friends.”

That word he throws out carelessly. That word she loves and fears. A relationship she treasures and can’t appreciate honestly. “Like we’ll still eat meals together even when we’re 26?”

“Yeah! Whenever possible. We’ll probably have jobs, and...I guess we wouldn’t see each other as often as we do now...but we could still see each other every week, at least, right? Hopefully.”

And that’s the extent.

It’s what she already knew. His answer ready-to-go.

“...I’m not okay with that…” She digs her fingernail into the spaces between the poorly tied straws, poking at the young grass and earth below. “...Once a week...isn’t enough for me…” Heat fills her face as she reveals her first truth, however small.

“Oh. Well, more than once a week would be better to me, too! I was just trying to think realistically.”

“Realistically,” she repeats to herself.

“Yeah, you know, like we’ll probably be busy. By then, maybe we won’t live as close to each other as we do now...”

She knows she’s being stupid, that he doesn’t mean to break her heart without even hearing her confession, but her vision waters and blurs, tears falling out and onto the mat.

“Hinata? Hey, are you...why are you crying?”

It’s not his fault. She hates it that he’s blaming himself. “Because I don’t want that!” She sits up suddenly and looks at him, takes in his alarmed expression, sees how much he really does care for her...just not in the way she hopes for. “What if I want to see you everyday? Even when we’re 26?”

“Then let’s do that, we can do that,” he says softly, earnestly, but it doesn’t help. She knows he doesn’t understand.

She rubs her eyes furiously, the backs of her fingers wet, and tries to steady her breathing. Because now, she’s really going to tell him, even if it’s far from being the right time. But maybe it would have never been the right time. So she confesses her second wish in a shaky breath, “What if I want to see you every morning?”

He’s watching her, body frozen, his blue gaze concentrated, brows pinched.

“What if I want to see you every night?” She feels like she’s burning away beneath his scrutiny, and there might not be anything left of her by the end. “What if I want to cook for you all the time?” Her voice wavers thickly here, and she’s afraid she won’t make it to the most important part. Each wish is a layer of her heart, peeled off, blown from her fingers with only a silent prayer. “What if I want to make you happy?” She can see herself being happy everyday. That sense of safety, warmth, comfort, and ease she only feels around him, that delight in seeing him smile, it’s only too simple to give him more and more love. “What if...what if I…”

His expression is opening up with a kind of wonder, his posture rising, his lips parting.

“...want to always be closest to you?” She’s talking to the mat again, unable to face him and see his final reaction. She asks, whispering, “Is that realistic?”

His silence is filled with the rush of the water below, the spring wind shaking the branches of trees above.

She can’t breathe, her throat and chest constricting in anxiety. She feels like a mess even as she’s trying to calm down.

“Hinata…”

She swallows the knots and steels herself.

“Do you...really...want that?”

Yes, she does, but she can’t verbalize it again when it’s taking everything to keep herself from running away. Her eyes squeeze shut like the clenching of her exposed heart, and she waits.

“We can do that…we can do anything you want.” His answer is soft, gentle, and not enough. He still doesn’t understand her.

She manages to look at him again.

His face is turned down, too, but his eyes flash up, catching hers.

“But...what about what you want?”

He shifts his legs, leaning closer, his proximity making nerves race up and down her arms. “What I want...well...I want...a lot of things, so, that’s why, we should do what you want.”

She shakes her head, dissatisfied. “Naruto-kun...I, I...I don’t mean it as,...as friends.”

“Okay.”

She looks up fully, and she can see her own disbelief and uncertainty reflected in his own expression.

“I want a lot, Hinata. Unrealistically a lot. So, you saying all of this, I’m...”

There’s a shine in his eyes that flushes her too warm, makes her heart beat fast, a new kind of apprehension flit through her.

He lets out a breath, his chest falling, then rising. “I’m so happy. I’m so happy that I’m afraid I don’t deserve it. I’m too scared of losing you. I’m constantly saying sorry, and even now…” His gaze is frantic, looking off, perhaps internal, perhaps distancing, then back on her, his brows furrowing upwards. “I hurt you, didn’t I?”

She knows who he’s talking about, but she knows he never meant to hurt her. If anything, she was hurting herself, right? Each time she let him confide in her, each time she encouraged him, that was her own choice.

“Hinata…” He lets out another shuddering breath. “I didn’t think you… I thought… I’m sorry. I’m afraid I’m always going to be saying sorry to you.”

She doesn’t want this hesitation. She doesn’t want apologies. “Naruto-kun.” She waits for his attention to draw outward again until she can feel his gaze warm on her cheeks. “I don’t want you to say sorry… I just need to know if you-” want me, want a relationship, want more than friendship. She tenses up, suddenly unable to voice it.

“It was never Sakura-chan. I tried, but.” He laughs humourlessly. “The only person I was really trying to fool was myself. I didn’t mean to hurt you or ever make you feel like I wouldn’t want to be with you.”

His acceptance dawns slowly on her, fluttering hope leaving her speechless.

“Are you really okay with an asshole like me?”

“You’re not-”

“I am.”

“You’re my best friend. I’ve known you the longest. I trust you the most.” She notices then that she leaned forward, that they’re close, and that they’ve been closer than this before, but now…

“This is real, huh.” His words are only just above a whisper, but she can almost feel the texture of his voice.

She can see how his eyes flit to hers then trace paths along her face, she can feel her heart heavy and bursting as she takes in the slope of his nose to his lips, and the world stills when she finds him, when he meets her.

A kiss is simpler than she imagined.

Fitting her lips to his takes little thought, but it’s the rest of her that rises up in tingling emotion. It’s her body that’s ready to fly away even when they part. It’s his smile that tints her pink and flowery. “Naruto-kun…”

His fingers lace with hers, his forehead rests atop her bangs, and he’s every kind of light and softness.

--

Small kisses and quiet whispers, her fair skin, the flutter of dark lashes over shining eyes. He’s settling himself into feelings he had long since given up on.

It’s like indulging in giant milkshakes and cakes, just suddenly binging and smothering himself in a sweetness he thought too risky, and now he remembers what was so addictive about them in the first place.

For how many months...years?...had he been brainwashing himself to let go of his romantic hopes. Allowing himself to admire and yearn without rebuking himself, it’s like cascading magic through his whole body, just sparkles of joy raining over him.

“I can’t believe it,” she murmurs.

“Me, neither.”

“I’ve...liked you since we were 9.”

His brows raise, heat coming to his cheeks and spreading through his chest. “Really?” He remembers when he started liking her as more than a friend. “I’ve liked you since the sixth grade sports festival.” They were just walking from one event to the next, and then she turned to him with the poutiest face he’d ever seen, going on to lament about how she wasn’t good at running. After consoling her, she smiled prettily at him, much like now,...and something clicked in his prepubescent brain.

“Since that long ago?”

He doesn’t know why she’s acting all astonished when apparently she started liking him first. “Yeah,” he quietly affirms, playing with her fingers in his hand, and that fluttery fog of sixth grade is surrounding him now, too, just like back then. “You were always cheering for me…”

“Mm...well, you were the anchor for our relay, and you covered for my loss to make a come-from-behind win!”

“I couldn’t let myself look bad in front of you.”

She gives him another bewildered look, her eyes all wide and disbelieving. “Did you really think things like that?”

He frowns, starting to feel self-conscious, like he must’ve said something really embarrassing. “Well...yeahh….I promised to win, so…”

She leans in, a fourth little kiss pecked on his lips, and he could swear a cube of sugar is slowly melting down his tongue. He lets out an exaggerated sigh of happiness, and she giggles, that super nice blush tinting her cheeks.

She looks down at their joined hands, squeezing his a bit with a gentle pressure. “I wonder what everyone at school will think of us…”

With the commotion on Thursday and Friday, and with their vehement denials, he can imagine the ridiculous gossip. He snickers. “What if we don’t tell anyone anything.”

Her brows furrow, but a smile starts to sneak across her expression.

“Just let them figure it out, you know. Like, let them see us holding hands a little, or-” He leans in close. “-talking and whispering like this to each other…”

Her face squishes up, red filling in her skin, and she straightens away from him, squealing, “Naruto-kun!”

“What?” he laughs.

“That’s...that’s….” She looks away. “Too much.”

He didn’t even say kissing, but that’s what he wanted to list next.

���I do like the idea of not saying anything, though. We can...keep it secret until someone asks again…”

“Mmm…” Suddenly, he doesn’t really like the idea all that much. He’d rather people know. So that someone like Toneri doesn’t start getting ahead of themselves.

She’s already laughing to herself, though, and he kind of understands the desire for revenge on everyone's nosy assumptions.

“Yeah, that sounds funny. We’ll keep it secret until someone asks.” He just has to get someone to ask about them, like, as soon as they walk into the classroom.

So when he walks into class on Monday, he makes his way to Hinata, who’s smiling shyly up at him from her desk. And he leans down and kisses her, right on the top of her head.

She stares up at him with the most stunned expression to date, her skin blossoming a flaming red from below her collar all the way up to her ears, and that in itself makes the risk worthwhile.

“I thought you said you guys are just friends!” Kiba screeches, finger jutting out at him like he just witnessed a crime.

People who saw stand in equal indignation, and he knows things are about to go crazy. He relishes the incredible power of being the source of chaos. “What? We’ve never been ‘just friends.’ Hinata’s my girlfriend.”

He turns a proud smile at Hinata, who looks quite faint, as the rest of the class blows up.

[sleepylittlenecromancer]

Despite the prudish reputation she’d gained at Hogwarts, this wasn’t the first time Hermione had taken somebody to bed. It had just felt beneath her to waste a fumbling experience with someone who didn’t really matter in the end. Who didn’t care beyond a quick bit of fun.

Her little romantic heart had wanted things to be special, but her head was logical and though the Order tried to shield her from the worst of what the Death Eaters would do if they were caught, she wasn’t stupid. She wasn’t going to let them take a first from her.

She’d made her choice, and Severus was going to be another - not one she’d ever thought she would actually get a chance to make, but that was all the better. As much as he’d taken precedence in her fantasies, it was about time to see if he was up to the task.

Not the only one, of course, she wasn’t strangely obsessed, but every mark he left on her skin was pretty much blowing the competition out of the water. She gasped and let out a needy whine as he sunk his teeth into her neck, marking her for his own.

The idea of being his admittedly turned her on even more, returning the favor by slightly digging her nails in his back. It was as much to keep her tethered to the earth as to be possessive, but he very much seemed to like it. Before long it felt like the whole bed was shaking as if he would drive her right through it!

His sweet murmurs were what finally drove her over the edge though, the man losing a touch of control as much as she was and whispering such filthy things in her ear. That timbre could probably send her straight into bliss all on its own, something she made a note to try before losing all track of thought together with a sharp cry.

~~//~~

Hermione had never been a morning person, far preferring to stay up into the late hours of the morning with a thick book in front of her. But there were multiple things that shot her eyes open, from smell to sight to touch. Maybe it was a leftover from ‘camping’, always having to be aware and ready for anything.

The first thing she noticed was the heavy arm draped over her waist, forcing her to keep incredibly still as her head carefully turned. The second was this was most definitely not her room. And third…

Watching Severus sleep so peacefully brought back a rush of memories, along with the telltale soreness between her legs. Fantasy was beautiful, but reality was far too quick to crash in and believe he would be just as sweet and tender the second time he woke.

Guilt twisted in her stomach at the thought of taking advantage of his state, however good she tried to make it for him. He couldn’t find her here, it was just unacceptable. Easing out from under his arm both as quick and slow as she dared, she grabbed up her wand and cleared both the smell and the evidence in the bed of their coupling.

Wadding up her nightgown she shrugged on the bathrobe, clutching it tight around her body as she slipped from the room and made her way down to her own room. She wasn’t limping or anything so dramatic, but it felt like she’d be bow-legged for a good portion of the day.

As long as he didn’t remember, didn’t hate her for what she’d done.. Maybe it would be okay. She’d kept secrets before. But this one made her heart ache more than most.

For obvious reasons, it was impossible to see him now as he would likely be at Hogwarts. Hermione had to wonder whether he would be as he was before or if he planned on changing. It was certainly a change from what she expected to see no anger in his eyes.

On the contrary, the way he looked at her sent a shiver down her spine. Whatever he had taken was still in effect to some level, she was sure, but after imagining it for so long it was impossible not to lean into his hand and take some of the comfort offered there.

You are an angel sent to soothe my soul. Those words seemed to sink right down into hers, the distance between them closing that much more. It was dangerous to be so close, inappropriate at the very least, but… after everything they’d been through she found she didn’t care.

Hadn’t they earned even a sliver of peace after everything? Even if it was just one night… The aching in her chest was already proof she would want more than that, want more of him, but that would be for her to handle after. “I shouldn’t.. but I want to..”

The confession came in a whisper, easily enough spurred on by the way his hand slid around the back of her neck to close the distance between them. Sliding her own up from his chest she cupped his cheek as their lips met for the first time, a pleasant hum running through her very magic.

“Severus..” He had been so in her mind for longer than she’d admit to anyone, but there was a thrill that came with actually getting to say it out loud. Pressing her lips more firmly to his own she let the desire sweep away the flicker of better judgment in the back of her mind.

For years she had always had to be rigid one, giving up what she wanted for the Greater Good. Now she’d do it all over again in a heartbeat to help Harry, but this… Severus had to want her in some way, the way he was being so tender with her.

Tangling together it didn’t take long for them to roll over to the middle, Hermione arching up towards him as he pinned her to the bed. It felt good just not to think for awhile, lead by touch as they tugged at each other clothes. They were just in the way!

“Please..” She pressed her head back against the sheets, drinking in every groan and press of his hips to hers as slightly rough lips made their way down her throat. She wanted to remember this feeling forever, bringing her legs up on either side of him to hook one over his back. “You feel so good..”

[whimsywillowwrites]

  🌻🌸 Story Garden 🌼🌷

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🌱 Hazbin Hotel:

Demon Summoning & Other Neat Party Tricks | Parental Alastor & Original Character | Demon Deals, Birthday Parties, Fluff & Humor, Angst | Rated M for violence | Read on AO3 |

Summary:  Six-year old witch, Imogen Woods, steals her late grandmother's spellbook and tries to summon a hellhound, hoping for a puppy to become her new familiar. Instead, she accidentally summons one of the most powerful beings in Hell, Alastor, the Radio Demon.They strike a deal where Alastor must celebrate Imogen's birthday on earth with her every year until she is eighteen. In return, he gets her soul ... terms and conditions permitting, of course. Unfortunately, deals are difficult to maintain when Alastor begins to feel like a father to the very witch who summoned him.

A Cup of Chaos With A Shot of Disaster | Platonic Alastor & Original Character | Coffee Shops, Fluff & Humor, AroAce Alastor, Queer Epiphany | Rated T | Read on AO3 |

Summary: Alastor walks into a Starbucks and discovers something new about himself. The denizens of hell soon join him. Chaos ensues.

🌱 Sander Sides:

Vanishing Act | Romantic Prinxiety | Mindscape Fic, Action/Adventure, Fantasy, Love Confessions | Rated M for fantasy violence | Read on AO3 |

Summary: After Thomas has a panic attack followed by a medical emergency, Virgil disappears. It's up to the other Sides to find him. They just didn't think it would involve visiting a certain snake in his garden. 

Hooked On A Werewolf | Romantic Logince | Urban Fantasy AU, Soulmates, Merman Roman & Werewolf Logan | Rated E for explicit sexual content | Read on AO3 |

Summary: Logan Frost might appear to be your average marine biologist, but he's also closeted and a werewolf—one that's tethered to his inescapable pack. His father, the pack Alpha, incessantly reminds Logan that he is nothing like his stereotypical pack members. Logan doesn't know how to react when his soulmate starts courting him by drawing beautiful pictures on his arms. Terrified of his father's reaction, Logan tries to ignore him, but Roman, a determined and flirty merman, refuses to be ignored. 

A Lesson In Love and Romance | Romantic Prinxiety | College AU | Rated E for explicit sexual content | Read on AO3 |

Summary: Virgil isn't good at romance. He isn't good at being vulnerable and opening his heart up to someone else.

That doesn't mean he can't try.

Someday My Prince Will Come | Romantic Prinxiety | Established Relationship, Fluff/Smut/Humor | Rated E for explicit sexual content | Read on AO3 |

Summary: Roman wants to have sex to a Disney playlist for his birthday. 

Roman's Roses | Prinxiety (can be platonic or romantic) | Magical Realism, Light Angst | Rated G | Read on AO3 | Read on Tumblr |

Summary: Virgil almost forgets how hot Roman's passion burns. The garden is full of ruby red roses, each one fully opened and perfect. Their petals are tender and soft, glowing from within, even during the daytime.  He can feel the heat rippling off of them. Get too close, and Virgil would scorch his hands, and that would be so embarrassing.

"What happened to you?" people would ask. "How did you burn yourself?"

 Oh, on Roman's roses. 

 Humiliating. 

🌱 Pokémon Universe Series:

To Extend Our Reach To the Stars Above! | Romantic Prinxiety | Rated T for canon typical violence, language and sensuality | Read on AO3 |

Summary: Becoming the Pokémon League Champion seems simple to Roman Prince: defeat Virgil Storm, the Ghost Pokémon Gym Leader, and be on his way. Easy, right? Except Virgil proves to be a more difficult opponent than planned. He’s also spooky. And infuriating. And definitely not hot!

But when Team Rocket is thrown into the mix, how will Virgil and Roman manage to put aside their differences and save the day?

Patton's Heart, In the Clouds | Romantic Logicality | Established Relationship, Cuddles, Snuggles & Smooches, Action/Adventure, Fluff, Fluff, Fluff | Rated T for canon typical violence, language and sensuality | Read on AO3 |

Summary: Pokémon Professor Logan leaves on an important business trip, not realizing he's forgotten his briefcase at home. His husband, Nurse Patton, flies across the region with the help of his trusted Pokémon partner, an Altaria named Sir Fluff.

It's too bad that Patton hadn't accounted for the angry Gyarados he'd encounter on the way, or the biting cold awaiting him in Snowspell. Had he known, he might not have worn his skirt, of all things.

(Or: Logan pampers Patton after a long, perilous journey. Cuddles and kisses ensue.) 

Logan's Heart, In Auroras | Romantic Logicality | Meet Cute, Falling In Love, Warm Fuzzy Feelings, Love Confessions, some descriptions of Pokémon injuries but nothing too graphic, you can sort of think of this as a veterinarian au but with Pokémon | Rated T for language and sensuality | Read on AO3 |

Summary:

"I'm just here to let you know that the nurse you haven't been able to shut up about for two weeks is here."

Logan swiveled in his computer chair. "What?"

"I said the nurse you're in love with is here."

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm not in love."

Remy slid his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose and gave him the look. "Dude. You haven't stopped talking about his sweet pea scented hands all week."

Logan sputtered.

"That doesn't mean anything. He has soft hands. Sweet peas have a very distinctive scent. Anyone would have noticed!"

"Oh my god," Remy said, delighted. "You really are in love."

🌱 Snippets:

Janus Meets His Match | Rated G | Read on Tumblr |

Summary: Crime Lord Janus takes in a stray kitten. Part of my larger project, tentatively titled Soulless. Takes place within the same universe as Hooked On A Werewolf. 

Only Fools Rush In | Romantic Lociet | Rated T for language and sensuality | College AU, Meet Cute | Read on Tumblr |

Janus crushes on Logan from afar. He finally gathers the courage to ask him out on a date with some encouragement from his best friend, Remus.

Thanks for stopping by! ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭.*･｡ﾟ

[grandcompany]

LFRP: Fhion Teag

THE BASICS –––

Name: Fhion Teag

Pronunciation: “Fawn Tee”

Birthday: 23rd Sun of the 1st Astral Moon

Race: Keeper of the moon Miqo’te

Gender: Genderqueer

Pronouns: She/They

Alignment: Neutral

Sexuality: Lesbian

Relationship Status: Single

Server: Mateus (Crystal Datacenter)

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE –––

Hair: Their dirty blonde hair is a shaggy mess that’s been clipped short, with a slightly longer fringe hanging in front of her eyes. Despite the fact that it continually gets into their face Fhion seems disinclined to tame it. It’s thick and unruly and streaked with gray and black.

Eyes: Amber

Height: 66 ilms (5’6”)

Build: Fhion is broadly built. Most of it is muscle, a little of it is chub. They are soft enough for hugging, but also able to parkour over just about anything at a moment’s notice.

Distinguishing Features: Freckle under her right eye, a small scar beneath their left eye. A striped pattern on each of their cheeks and faint brown-gray spots along her tail. Tufted, lynx-like ears.

Common Accessories: A scarf or some type of cloth around her neck, fingerless gloves, their chakram, sandals, a pack full of random bits and bobs, a book with a crystal scarred cover, anger problems.

PERSONAL –––

Professions:

Bouncer, brawler, general muscle-for-hire. (Monk)

Acrobatic dancer, storyteller, and entertainer. (Dancer)

Untrained / unwilling tether to their tribe’s elemental guardians. (Summoner)

Hobbies: Enjoys playing music and singing but is surprisingly shy about it. Loves dancing and is NOT shy about that. Enjoys parkour and other acts of idiotic adrenaline chasing. Can be surprisingly philosophical at times. Enjoys cooking more than they let on.

Residence: The Twelveswood

Birthplace: Mor Dhona

Religious Affiliation: Menphina / Nophica / Oschon

RELATIONSHIPS –––

Romantic: none

Children: none

Parents: Fhina Teag (mother), Ardith Teag (other mother)

Siblings: Keelie Teag (sister)

Other Relatives: Used to have a large extended family / tribe. They are all deceased now because this is a RPG character.

Pets: none

TRAITS –––

* Bold your character’s answer.

Extroverted / In Between / Introverted

Disorganized / In Between / Organized

Close Minded / In Between / Open Minded

Calm / In Between / Anxious

Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable

Cautious / In Between / Reckless

Patient / In Between / Impatient

Outspoken / In Between / Reserved

Leader / In Between / Follower

Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic

Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic

Traditional / In Between / Modern

Hard working / In Between / Lazy

Cultured / In Between / Uncultured

Loyal / In Between / Disloyal

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION –––

Smoking Habit: Not a smoker, but frequently burns incense so they may smell like it.

Drugs: Shockingly spiritual about drug use. They do not use it for recreation.

Alcohol: Absolutely.

Quirks: Distinctive, rumbling laugh, fast walker, props their feet on the furniture, hates wearing heavy or tight clothes, always has a scarf or bandana, loves being flattered, opinionated about food.

RP HOOKS –––

Opportunistic Brawler: Fhion’s main line of work these last few years has been hiring themselves out for the strength of their fists. Until recently she hasn’t been able to be discerning and that’s led them to do bodyguard, bouncer and backroom-brawling work for some shady individuals.

Talespinning Dancer: Out of an effort to keep the traditions of their birth family alive Fhion practices a type of acrobatic dancing that tells their tribe’s history and important stories. Her efforts at it are piecemeal as she tries to remember and fill in the gaps of what she was taught so long ago.

Adrenaline Chaser: Fhion can’t get enough of their favorite natural high - almost dying. They’re happy to parkour off buildings, climb trees they shouldn’t and otherwise behave like someone who wouldn’t know self preservation if it bit them in the tail.

Elemental Tether: Before their birth tribe was decimated Fhion was earmarked to take up the mantle of lorekeeper and spiritual guardian. Though they began their training they had not completed it before being separated from their family. The partial tethers to their tribe’s elemental guardians and incomplete training will lead to a big, hot mess one day if they don’t do something about it.

OOC INFORMATION –––

FHION IS LOOKING FOR

Dirt on some of their former employers that screwed them over.

Women to flirt with who don’t want a big commitment.

A place where she feel comfortable and at peace.

Somewhere to lay low for a while.

I’M LOOKING FOR

A place where Fhion can learn to calm down a little.

People that don’t mind them being a little sassy pants.

Communities with an active LGBTQ+ population.

Collaborative storytelling and character development!

CONTACT INFORMATION –––

In-Game: Fhion Teag

Asks & Info: @grandcompany

Carrd: fhionteag.carrd.com

[liptonsbabe]

The light is coming [B.W]

Previous

Bill Weasley x Lexington! reader

Summary: The reader wants to leave Beauxbatons attending to her sister’s pleadings to join the Order of the Phoenix. Byron Murphy wants to leave with her and the rumors about the two of them having a romance follows them to England

Word count: 2.4K

Warnings: none(?

A/N: Chapter 2 of this new story. I hope you like it! Bla bla bla english not my mother language bla bla, let me know if i screwed something up. Enjoy!

Chapter2: Beauxbatons

You received your sister's desperate letters all the way to your own room at Beauxbatons Academy of  Magic. Your brow couldn't help but twitch at the sight of the dozens of letters crowding your window sill after you had finished teaching your classes for the day.

You let the Tonks family owl get in before it fell from the tenth floor of the castle of how gnarled its wings were. France had turned into a huge fridge in the last few days, so you were surprised that the little grayish owl could carry so many letters tied to its legs in the middle of a blizzard.

The owl let out a whimpering sound as you took it in your arms and, removing the tethers, laid it on your bed near the fire in the fireplace; you scooped some food onto a napkin and walked to your desk to read the correspondence.

Although you were familiar with your older sister's great euphoria when sending letters, you recognized that this time they were not just letters asking you to tell her how things were on the other side of the pond or demanding to know the latest gossip about your love life. No, the letters that your sister Nymphadora had sent you were totally serious, mature and direct; in each and every one of them she asked you for help on her behalf and on behalf of Albus Dumbledore.

Nymphadora asked you to return home even though she knew the reasons why you had decided to leave for France. She demanded your help to put an end to an evil that was plaguing the community and was forcing you to be part of an organization that Dora described as 'The Order of the Phoenix' created and spread by the Hogwarts’ headmaster.

You knew Albus Dumbledore very well, you remembered the man who had visited you at the Tonks' house on your eleventh birthday asking you to join the school he ran. No matter how much he begged you, you never agreed to what he asked, not cause you didn't want to, but because you and your adopted family would be better if you went away from there.

Andromeda Tonks was the mother of a little two-year-old girl when someone knocked on her door in the midst of a blast of icy rain. Opening the door she found to her surprise that a small basket was in front of her feet, soaking wet and holding a rain-soaked baby girl who was crying inconsolably.

"Ted! Come look at this, Ted!" She cried out as she carried the wet baby in her arms who snuggled into her arms as soon as she felt the woman's warmth “For Merlin's sake, Ted!

Her husband ran to the doorway as he carried little Nymphadora, who was hugging a stuffed hippogriff. The man stopped in front of his wife, staring in amazement at the gift that had been left in front of their house.

"It's a baby, Ted! Someone has left their baby here and in the middle of a storm!"

"There's got to be a note" Reasoned her husband, shaking with fright "If there isn't, maybe... maybe she was left here by mistake and we'll have to look for her parents.I s there a note? What does it say?"

The note Ted Tonks was referring to was nothing more than a piece of parchment worn and almost undone by the water in the basket. Andromeda held it up to the light to decipher the message, but all she could read was: "HER NAME IS (Y/N)". The message was accompanied only by a golden locket that had the image of a clay pot with hands that molded it; on the back were the initials '(Y/N) and an S at the end. Andromeda didn’t understand why.

Even with all that, they decided that they would keep little (Y/N) Lexington -that was the word that was engraved on the basket, with which Andromeda concluded that that must be your last name- at least until your real parents came back claiming that everything had been a big mistake. Years passed and no one went in search of you.

You caressed the necklace slowly, remembering the story your mother Andromeda told you, always telling you that, even though you were not her biological daughter, she loved you as much as if you were, and that Dora loved you as if you were her sister. So, you felt the need to help her in everything your sister asked you.

Your powers were strange, no one knew what they were due to, but the Tonks family never wondered even when they appeared out of nowhere, at five years of age and after having seriously injured Nymphadora. You decided it was best to leave for France and learn to use your powers away from your family.

Now you didn't know if Madame Maxime would let you go back home, after all, you had thought of quitting being a teacher to devote yourself fully to be an auror because for that you had studied day and night until exhaustion, however your intentions had been an enigma for Madame Maxime, who flatly refused to let you abandon your classes of defense against the dark arts. But, if Dora needed you, you had to be there, because there was nothing you wouldn't do for your sister.

Folding each of the letters, you approached your bed and with your wand made all your clothes fly out of the closet until they dropped into the open suitcase that rested under your chest of drawers. You deftly closed the latch and made it become the size of a coin, loading it into your front pocket. You opened the door and ran down the stairs.

You greeted every student you came across and even talked to each of them on your way to the principal's office. You started running, thinking that you had to be that very day at the address Dora had attached to you in the last letter she sent. You fixed your hair before you reached the office and knocked three times on the door. A light voice gave you the pass on the other side and you rushed in.

“Excusez moi madame” you said as you saw the headmistress sitting in front of her desk. On the other side sat a man you recognized as Byron Murphy, a senior auror who worked as an assistant teacher of defense against the dark arts. You frowned after Byron smiled at you" I'm sorry to interrupt you, but I need to talk to you about something important.

"What is it, Professor?"

"I... well" You cleared your throat, looking down at your shoes "You see, my sister has written to me from England as a matter of urgency and she asked me to return home immediately”

"C'est du jamais vu!"Shouted the woman, kicking her desk. Byron jumped in his place "This must be a joke. Just today my two defense professors wish to resign, is this some kind of loving decision?”

Your cheeks soon turned into two shiny fresh tomatoes from the embarrassment. Byron looked at you with a raised eyebrow and held out his hand for you to take, wanting to play along with what the headmistress had just said. You shook it off, because you were not indifferent to the gossip going around the school about the two of you.

Byron Murphy would take any opportunity to be near you, and you even thought it was all a plan of the auror when Madame Maxime appointed him as assistant for defense against the dark arts; you soon learned that the class itself was very heavy and that even though you refused to accept Byron's help, you had no choice but to lean on him when things didn't turn out as arranged. Even with all that, the girls came up with that both of you were in a romantic relationship. There was the day you overheard your fourth graders whispering about how they had discovered that you and Professor Byron Murphy were getting married next winter. You punished them with extra homework.

"No, god, it's nothing like that."

"Then what is it?"

"My sister needs me, ma’am. There's.... there's a matter in England that I must help her settle."

"What kind of matter?"

"Uh, well" You knew that the next thing you would say would seriously upset the headmistress, but you had no choice but to be honest and get out of there as soon as possible “She doesn't mention much about the situation, but in every letter she has sent me Albus Dumbledore's name comes up”

There was a long silence that was cut short when the huge headmistress stood up and the chair she was sitting in fell backwards causing a frightening clatter. You took a couple of steps back and tried to keep your hands as close to your wand as possible. Byron got up as well, walked over to you and stood next to you, holding your hand in case the situation got out of hand.

“Albus Dumbledore! That unfortunate little man! I've had enough of him since last year!”

“Are you referring to the Triwizard Tournament?” Byron asked

“Of course that's what I mean! That damned Tournament where Hogwarts had two winners, unfairly of course, but nothing could be done cause the laws of the damned Goblet were clear, weren't they? They didn't accept appeals. And then... what happened to that Diggory boy... what they said about the return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.... Albus Dumbledore is a liar!” You closed your eyes as a drop of spittle landed on your cheek. Byron shook his head

“You don't believe in the Dark Lord's return?”

“Of course not!” You both knew that the headmistress was really annoyed as her French accent became even more pronounced. You looked at Byron for a second before looking back at the angry woman “I've read about it in the newspaper, in The Daily Prophet, as they call it, Igor Karkarov has kept me informed of the matter.

“Do you still have contact with that man?”

“Sure do i! He and I have been friends for years and he has been affected by the thing as well. The poor man has had to hide in a hut on the outskirts of Bulgaria from where he has been able to get hold of influences who send him copies of the newspaper every month. Otherwise we would both be in the dark. So i’m very sorry for what i’m about to tell you, Professor Lexington, but I will not accept any kind of resignation on your part.

“Madame, if you'll just let me....”

“Much less when you plan to join Dumbledore's madness. I'm sorry, but you'd better get back to your classes”

The thing was, that the issue was about more than just Dumbledore, it was about protecting your family, your friends and in the worst case scenario, the entire magical community. You may not have been present at Hogwarts a year ago, but you firmly believed what Dora had told you about Cedric Diggory's murder; there was no reason not to believe in the Dark Lord's return, cause even those who were Death Eaters had been disappearing overnight. And you firmly believed in your sister's word, she, being an auror, was aware of the severity  of the situation and that's why she was strongly asking you to go back home and help her in any way you could.

No, you couldn't stay at Beauxbatons for a second longer.

"It is a pity that you don’t accept my motives, Madame, but I have already made up my mind. I have packed my bags and will leave immediately with or without your approval" The woman was about to retort, however, you stopped her "I believe in my sister's word and of course I believe in Lord Voldemort's return.

"Don't say his name!" Madame Maxime shrieked, covering her ears. Byron shuddered

"Cedric Diggory shouldn’t have died and we mustn’t stand idly by; there are people out there fighting and dying at the hands of dark magic, spreading fear and starting an internal war that we may never be able to get out of. Desolé, madame, but I cannot stay out of this. I have learned much here, and even managed to control my powers, despite that, i’m loyal to my family and, therefore, i’m loyal to Albus Dumbledore.

You turned around, ready to leave when the giant's powerful voice stopped you.

"Professor Lexington, are you aware that if you leave the school you will never return?"

You looked at her over your shoulder

"Believe me, Madame, if you refuse to believe in the return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and try to make others believe it is so, then I have no desire to return."

Leaving the office, you ran down the stairs trying to get to the front door. After all, from France to London wasn't too long a walk, you could just disappear and show up at the place Dora had marked for you. You would if you had the slightest idea where that place was.

A few hurried footsteps followed you, stopping you in front of the main door.

It was Byron, who was carrying a small suitcase on his back.

“Hey, you don't have to run away from me, honey”

“Leave me alone, Byron”

“Well, okay, listen” He grabbed you by the cheeks as you tried to leave the castle. Your eyes met his, noticing how a smile began to form on his lips “What you said to Olympe was wonderful, it really was. And you of all people know that I also believe in the return of you-know-who”

“Do you?”

“Yes. I was about to tell Madame Maxime my reasons to resigning  when you arrived”

“What are those reasons?”

Byron smiled sideways, stroking your cheeks.

“I want to fight against Lord Voldemort”

“What”

“Just as you hear, dear. After all, that's our job as Aurors, isn't it? I can't stay in this castle and pretend to be a teacher when they may need me out there. I've heard about the Order of the Phoenix, about Albus Dumbledore, his name is going around the world. So i want to be a part of it too”

“Byron...”

“Just... let me come with you, okay? You'll need all the help you can get”

Byron being an auror of a higher rank made everything easier, because then you would have extra help against the Dark Lord; however, you weren't prepared to be around him any longer than necessary. Byron stroked your cheek and, smiling, he opened the door for you. You sighed, taking his hand to disappear from there together.

[hollyxqx]

BAD FRIENDS  ;  MIN YOONGI  ;  ONE

↪ PAIRING: reader x yoongi / reader x seokjin ↪ GENRE: friends to lovers to enemies to lovers, 90s!au, college!au, angst, smut, hurt, comfort, FLUFF ↪ SUMMARY: hooking up with your childhood best friend was never your plan, but neither was falling in love with him either. he’s troubled but his heart is gold. when you move away for college, things start to take a turn.

↪ WARNINGS: TW! mentions of alcohol&physical abuse, yoongi’s dad is a terrible human, minor descriptions of violence, smut, explicit sex, recreational drug use, but despite that there is a lot of love and fluff, so much pining between these two idiots in luv

↪ WORD COUNT: 20k (it’s a big one!!!)

series masterlist

It Began As A Mistake

The shared wall between your houses is far too thin, you often think. You hear a lot of what you’re not supposed to. The mask the Min family next door displays to the world is shattered for you every night when the raised voices and banging starts.

You expect Yoongi will be requesting your company soon, if the shouting and screaming through the wall tonight is any indication to go by. It’s a pattern that has become more frequent, especially as of late, but has been going on for as long as you could remember.. It’s routine now. 

Not that you mind. Yoongi is your closest friend. The longest relationship you’ve had with any other human being (aside from your parents) is the one you share with Yoongi. You met him the day you moved in next door at the tender age of eight. He had been playing in his front yard, throwing and catching a basketball against a hoop attached to the brick wall of his house. You don’t remember much about the first meeting other than laughing at his enormous oversized shirt that reached his knees. 

According to your mother, it was a fast friendship. By the end of that first day you had proudly declared to her that Yoongi was your bestsest frien. She always recalls the story with a fond smile on her face, given how much she adores him. As an only child, Yoongi was like the brother you never had. And that’s how the relationship continued. Innocent and almost sibling-like.

Until it wasn’t. 

The memory of the first time you slept together is hazy. You don’t know exactly who initiated the first move but in the moment it made sense, as if it was the right thing to do. Yoongi had snuck out, climbed in your bedroom window as he usually did when he wanted to escape his turbulent home life and made himself at home in your room.

He had never been particularly vocal when it came to expressing his emotions. That was just Yoongi; silent, stoic, strong. It was only with you that he would allow himself to even be marginally vulnerable. Occasionally the veil would slip ever so slightly and you’d get a peek of the turmoil underneath and every time you did, you wanted to take that pain away from him any way you could. 

So when you held him in your arms and he murmured into the skin of your neck how much you meant to him, you knew you would do anything for him. Which is why when his lips found yours you kissed him back. When he slowly removed every item of clothing you wore, you let him. When he fucked you on your childhood bed, slowly and purposefully, you granted him access to your body. Whatever Yoongi wanted, you allowed him to take from you.

If it meant bringing some happiness and light into his life, it was worth it. You loved him, after all. 

As if on cue, you hear a quiet tap on your window. You look up from the book that you were unsuccessfully trying to distract yourself with to see Yoongi, peering at you underneath a mop of shaggy black hair. When you notice him he gives you the briefest of smiles, but you can see in his eyes he’s anything but happy.

“Figured you’d be over soon.” You say quietly as you push the window open to let him in. “He’s bad tonight, huh?”

You were referring to Yoongi’s father. The center of the hurricane of chaos that is the Min family. Mr Min had a serious drinking problem, and whenever he had one too many it was like he transformed into someone else entirely. Mrs Min and Yoongi took the brunt of his wrath. Although Yoongi never outright said it, you had long since deduced the violence his father inflected. Mrs Min had ‘walked into a door’ too many times for you to count.

“He’s an asshole.” Yoongi mutters, kicking off his sneakers. “I waited until he passed out, there’s no way I would leave that monster alone with Mom.”

“You wanna talk about it?” You ask, scooching over to make space for him on the bed beside you. He shakes his head ‘no’ as he flops face down on the mattress. Rarely does he want to open up. He lays on his front, head resting on the back of his palms. “I’m sorry Yoongi.” You rub his back affectionately.

“You should be, I cut my hand climbing up the trellis.” His muffled voice replies. “Maybe invest in a rope ladder for me.”

“Noted. Now let me see your hand.” 

Yoongi allows you to look at the small cut on his hand. It’s nothing serious but you go and fetch a plaster from the medicine cabinet in the bathroom anyway. On your way back to your room you pause outside your parents bedroom and listen. Their television is off, which means they must be asleep. As much as they love Yoongi, catching him in your room after hours would probably not go down well.

“Thanks.” Yoongi mumbles once the band aid is secured. “Can I sleep here tonight?” He asks quietly.

“You don’t need to ask” You tell him this every time, but he never listens. Instead he pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly as if you’re the only thing tethering him to reality. He may not pour his heart out to you but his need for affection, for love, is clear when he holds you like this.

“I had such a shitty night.” He says into your skin, face buried in the crook of your neck. His breath tickles. “Just wanna forget it.” He presses a kiss to your throat. “Wanna forget everything that’s not you right now.”

Your stomach involuntarily somersaults at his words. He’s not romantically interested in you.. You know this.. He’s your best friend. In the two years you’ve been sleeping together you’ve worked hard to keep any feelings at bay, but when he says things like that, your heart races. Your phisiolocical reaction betrays your head. 

It’s not the same for Yoongi and you know that. He doesn’t get butterflies. He’s just blowing off steam. It is why you constantly remind yourself about the reality of the situation. It’s just sex. If you even allow yourself to think otherwise for a moment you’ll get carried away and that can only mean one thing; the end of your friendship.

He leads you back to the bed, laying you down on the mattress before his lips are on yours. Yoongi is a phenomenal kisser, a fact you're reminded of when he nips at your bottom lip before sliding his tongue in your mouth. It’s slow and passionate, something you’ve grown to love about his kissing style. He knows just how much to give and take.

You’re hot all over from his touch. His roaming hands caress your body, his touch gradually growing more desperate. It’s heavy breathing and grinding and intense. Like he can’t get close enough to you. “Yoongi,” You pant as he pulls your shirt up and over your head. 

“Hmm sweetheart?” He asks distractedly, eyes on your now naked breasts. The pet names only ever come out during sex. Leaning forward he cups them in his hand, kissing all over your chest. He takes one of your hardened nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue over it, sending electricity straight down your spine. His mouth is sinful.

“I-I don’t have a - “ You moan a little when you feel his clothed hardness press between your legs as he moves to your other breast. Your hands fly to his hair, anchoring him to your chest.“Yoongi, I don’t have any condoms.” You manage to get out. 

He carries on what he’s doing but hums against your flesh, “Did we finish that pack already?”

“Y-yeah.” You stutter as he kisses his way down your navel. Yoongi hooks his thumbs in your shorts and drags them, along with your panties, down your legs. He kneels between your thighs and grips an ankle in each hand, bending your legs up and outwards and open. “I meant to pick some up.”

“Hmm,” Yoongi replies, once again distracted as he settles down on his chest between your spread thighs. Most of your hook ups begin this way. He reads your body so well now, after two years of doing this together he has every tip and trick down to a science. Spit sloppy kisses land on the soft meat of your inner thigh before his tongue makes it way in between your lower lips making your breath hitch.

He loves having his hair tugged and pulled whenever he’s eating you out, so your hands wind themselves through his dark locks. He grunts at the contact but still takes his time even as you tug on his hair, encouraging him. “God, Yoongi.” You whine quietly and breathlessly. “Feels amazing.”

His hands hook underneath your thighs, legs resting over his shoulder,, pulling your mound closer to him as his tongue begins to flick faster against your clit. It’s so hard to be quiet when he plays your body like this. You clutch at the sheets beneath you and a pillow simultaneously in a hopeless attempt at remaining silent.

“Look at you,” Yoongi breaks away, peering up at you through his bangs. There’s a dark desire in his eyes and your arousal on his lips. You can’t help but wonder if he loves the control aspect of making you feel good. “I can tell you’re barely holding it together. Fuckin’ needy for me. Do you want to cum like this? Or with my fingers too?”

“No.” You whisper and he quirks a skeptical brow.  “I want to cum with you inside me Yoongi.”

“We don’t have condoms.” He reminds you, languidly licking a stripe up your pussy, eliciting a shudder out of you. He slips one arm back underneath your leg so fingers can toy with the outline of your entrance. “As much as I’d love to feel you...I’ll get some tomorrow for us.”

You let a muffled cry as he slips a finger inside of your wet heat, curling it expertly. “A-ah, Yoon -” You gasp as he pumps it slowly. “I’m on birth control.”

His motions come to a frustrating hault. “Since when?” 

You had been on it for a while, not because you were having a lot of casual sex but just for your the sake of your period (something you didn’t feel like would particularly interest your best friend). Yoongi and you had long since established practicing safe sex so you carried on using condoms. “A few months.” 

“Are you...are you with other people?” He asks and you can’t believe he’s asking this with his fingers literally inside you. 

“Yoongi I’ve never been with anyone other than you.” You inform him quietly. He’d never known that he was the one who took your virginity. At the time you were so embarrassed to be the only one of your friend group still carrying their v-card, though looking back that was such a ridiculous thing to worry about.

“Really? Not even Jimi - “

“Don’t even say his name to me.” You cut him off abruptly. Jimin had been your boyfriend when you were a teenager, who ended up cheating on you. “No. Are we going to do this because I’m slowly starting to get turned off here.”

“I’m sorry sweetheart.” He gives you that same lopsided smile that makes your heart thud. Slowly he leans down to reattach his mouth to your still hyper sensitive clit before resuming fucking you with his fingers. “You’re the only one I’ve ever been with too.” He mumbles so quietly you almost miss it if it wasn’t the tickle of his hot breath against your sensitive flesh.

For some reason that turns you on more, knowing that this moment, this feeling, you’d only ever shared with each other. 

Your tightening around him, walls clenching as he brings you closer and closer to orgasm, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath enough to whine, “Yoongi I’m close, please stop, please, please let me cum on your cock.”

He pulls away with a smirk. “How could I say no when you beg so prettily?”

Yoongi reluctantly tears away from you and stands briefly to shed his clothing. They’re tossed uncaringly to the floor before he crawls over you, wedging himself in between your legs. When his bare cock brushes against your hot cunt you shiver. It’s electric, raw and thrilling at the same time. You can practically feel yourself dripping on to the sheets below.

Your lips brush together, before he whispers a warning with a laugh, “I’m probably going to cum really quick.”

“You better not.” You tease, closing the distance between your mouths with a searing kiss. Yoongi continues lapping at your mouth as one hand nudges your thighs apart a little wider. He grips the base of his cock, lining it up at your entrance before dipping the head of it in painstakingly slowly. 

“Ok?” He breathes against your cheek as he inches the rest of himself in slowly. You nod eagerly. When he’s sheathed all the way inside of you he groans, a little too loudly for your liking. 

“Yoongi!” You whisper shout, clamping a hand against your mouth. “Be quiet!”

He licks the inside of your palm and you squeal at the ticklish sensation,  yanking your hand away which was his goal. “Now who's the loud one?” He tries to joke but his voice is deeper, hoarser, husky,  like he’s trying to hold back from just pounding you into the mattress.

“Move, Yoongi.” You nudge your hips upward slightly, desperate to feel him,, causing him to bite down on his lip in pleasure. 

“You feel so fucking good.” He whispers in your ear as he slowly begins to rock his hips against you. “So fuking wet, so fucking warm.” He keeps his face next to the shell of your ear. “So tight for me sweetheart.”

He rests on his forearms as he begins to pick up speed. Together, after all the practice you’ve engaged in, you’ve both long since learned how to fuck quietly in your bedroom. Tonight however Yoongi seems to be losing himself more than usual. Both of you stop instantly the second your headboard hits the wall with a thud, staring at each other in fear.

After a few tense moments of waiting to ensure no one in your household has woken, Yoongi mutters a low apology before carrying on thrusting. 

“I’m close, Yoongi.” You whisper, pushing his chest up slightly so you’re able to reach down to your neglected clit. The other hand finds purchase on his shoulder. “Ohhhh,” You moan squeezing your eyes shut. You can feel Yoongi’s dark gaze on your face. Knowing he’s watching is undeniably hot. 

“Baby cum for me,” He pants. “Please, I’m so close. Wanna feel you squeeze my cock while I fill you up. I’m gonna cum in you, claim you, make you all mine.”

You’re not even sure if he’s aware of what he’s saying but it does the trick and you feel that tightly wound coil deep within you let go, and you’re coming hard around his cock. He’s gasping and swearing when he follows seconds later, slowly grinding against you to a stop.

He all but collapses against you. His skin is hot and sweaty and sticks against yours. In other scenarios it would be disgusting but you relish in it, pulling him towards you for a kiss. He tastes salty and sweet.

“Shit, that felt too good.” He chuckles breathlessly after a few moments. “I’m sorry it was so quick.”

“I loved it.”

He’s still panting when he pulls out,, rolling onto his back next to you. “What?” He asks when you start to giggle.

“Your cum is leaking out of me and it tickles.” You grab his hand and put it between your thighs. “Feel.”

“You’re gross.” He laughs but you know he doesn’t mean it when he pecks you on the cheek shortly after.

“I’m going to go clean up.” You inform him, as you awkwardly dress and make your way to the bathroom. 

When you return once again Yoongi’s semi dressed and partially under the duvet cover, patting the mattress signaling for you to join him. You clamber into bed beside him and he instantly wraps his arms around you with a yawn. “I set your alarm.” He tells you.

This is standard routine for you two so he’s able to sneak back out again undetected in the morning. You nod against his chest. As he stretches across you and flicks the bedside lamp off.

“Yoongi?” 

“Hmm?” You can tell he’s close to sleep already. 

“Will you tell me if you sleep with anyone else? I don’t want to go back to condoms but I don’t want an STD.” You shyly share. It would be a shame not to be able to have him again, raw and unrestricted. 

“Of course. I’d never put you at risk like that.” He replies sleepily. “You’re my best friend, dummy.”

“You’re the dummy, idiot.” 

“Shut up and go to sleep.” He says. You can tell from his voice he’s smiling.

It’s your last day of high school but unfortunately not the last one of your part time job as a barista at the coffee shop you work at. It’s a nice place, but it’s boring. There’s still three months left until you hopefully are leaving town for the college of your choice (in the city, you hope with all of your fingers and toes crossed for luck). Nothing terrifies you more than being stuck in your hometown. Life is for the living.

After school you head straight for your shift. Normally your shifts pass by pretty quickly but today this one drags in. You know you have a few letters watermarked with the symbols of colleges you applied to waiting at home, courtesy of an excited call from your mom to the shop. 

You have little idea what to expect, resulting in an anxiety ridden few hours of work. Driving home it takes everything in you not to speed. 

“Here, here, here!” Your excited mother is thrusting a stack of different sized envelopes into your arms. You hadn’t even put your keys down or removed your jacket yet. 

“Give me a second, jeez.” 

The nerves you feel bubble ominously deep in your gut. You try not to let it read on your face as you shrug your jacket off and toss your keys in the bowl. If anything your mother may be more excited than you. 

“Well, open them darling.” She’s practically vibrating with excitement, a wide lipsticked smile stretched across her face.

Taking a deep breath you walk to the living room. You may have to sit down for this. 

The first letter is small. The smallest one. The return label indicates that it was from a music school in Incheon. One of the choices higher up on your list. A quick scan reveals - “I got in!!!!” You shout as you stand up. Mom’s cries of joy and affirmation fall on deaf ears as your heart thunders.

By the time you’ve confirmed your acceptance to Yonsei and Seoul National your mother is crying. Last, but certainly not least is the letter to Hangyang Uniersity. Out of all your applications, Hangyang was the only place Yoongi had applied to also. The prospect of potentially going to school with him excited you.

As soon as the black and white printed ink confirms it - we would like to offer you a place on our applied psychology course - you audibly gasp. You can’t wait to tell Yoongi.

Neither Mr or Mrs Min usually arrive home before 8pm. Mr Min is a math teacher, who often works long hours before heading to a bar, whilst Mrs Min is a nurse; so when you bounce out the front door and to the house next door you know Yoongi will be home alone.

“Yoongi!” You singsong before you’ve even reached the door, knowing there’s a chance he may be able to hear you. “Yoongi-yaaa!” You knock obnoxiously on the oak, almost as if you’re tapping out a tune. “I know you’re home, your bike is in the drive!”

The door creaks as it opens, a disheveled Yoongi appearing on the other side. “I was napping.” He grumbles, tousling at his fluffy hair. You can’t help but think he looks adorable. 

“Do that later.” You tell him, with a playful eye roll. “I got into Hangyang!”

He barely has time to blink before you’re launching yourself at him, slinging both arms around his neck. It takes him a moment to react before a reluctant arm returns your enthusiastic hug. “That’s great, y/n.” He says into your hair before you seperate. 

Yoongi shuts the door behind you both. “And?” You can’t help but ask.

“And what?” He mutters walking past you and to the kitchen. You trail behind like an excited puppy.

“Don’t you ‘and what’ me. What about you? Please tell me you got in too.”

He freezes as he’s reaching for a glass. “I don’t know.” 

His words do little to kill your buzz. “What?” You laugh, assuming he’s joking. “Today is the deadline. How can you not know?”

“I just don’t, ok.” He flips on the tap and fills his glass up with water, the entire time keeping his back to you. Something is up, you’ve known Yoongi nearly your entire life. He’s withholding something. He was always the type to act defensively when he was mad, hurt, lying or all of the above.

“Yoongi, we can call the university and find out. Maybe your mail is just late.”

“I don’t want to, y/n.” He says curtly.

“Why?”

“I just don’t!” 

“You’re being so weird right now,” You frown. “Don’t you want to find out if we’re going to be going together? We’ve talked about this for years.”

“I’m not being weird. I just don’t know yet.”

“You are.”

“Just fucking drop it.” He groans, slamming his glass on to the counter with enough force that the water sloshes up over the edge. 

“Don’t talk to me like that! I have done nothing wrong!”

Finally he spins to face you, a neutral almost bored expression on his face. “You’re making a big deal out of nothing.”

“I - “ You cut yourself short, feeling a little foolish that he doesn’t seem to be as thrilled at the prospect of going to college with you. He hadn’t brought it up in a while. “I thought - thought you’d be excited. Nevermind.”

At your tone his expression softens. “Y/n, the idea of getting out of here with you sounded amazing.”

“Sounded?”

He lets out a drawn out sigh and stares at the ground. “I can’t go.”

It’s almost as if the air has been sucked rapidly out of the room. “Can’t?” You parrot back. This was the first you’d ever heard of this.

“You know what my situation at home is like. You know better than anyone. I can’t just up and leave.” He’s always hesitant, ashamed when speaking openly about what goes on behind closed doors. Even to you.

“You can, Yoongi.” You go to touch his arm for reassurance but he shrugs you off. 

“I can’t.” He grits. “I can’t leave her with him.”

“Yoonseok did.” You counter. It’s a low blow bringing up his older brother but it’s the truth. Yoonseok hightailed it out of there the second he turned sixteen, leaving eleven year old Yoongi to manage his dad alone. Yoongi’s childhood had done a number on him, burdening him in a way no child should ever be. 

“Yoonseok was a selfish dick.” He responds darkly, voice dripping with hate. “Without me, or anyone, to intervene my dad will fucking end up killing my mom. We both know it y/n.” Silent and unsure how to respond to such an uncomfortable truth you can only stare sadly at Yoongi. It’s painful to see him sacrifice so much for a family that didn’t deserve it. “I can’t leave her. It’s not safe,”

“I understand Yoongi, I do. But you can’t put your life on hold forever for your parents. At some point you need to get out, not just for your own safety but your sanity.”

“Yeah then come home to a dead mom. Great idea y/n.” He spits. “Don’t be fucking stupid. This is the reality of my situation.”

“I just want what's best for you, stop being an asshole!” You yell.

“You’re being controlling and quite frankly, kind of a cunt.” 

You scoff humorlessly in disbelief. “Really Yoongi?! Fuck you. And fuck this.”

Spinning on your heel you march towards the front door. This argument was going nowhere and you would only grow angrier if you remained in the tiny kitchen with him. One glance over your shoulder and you’re met with his glassy eyes watching you leave, the last thing you see before you slam the front door. 

Three days later you and Yoongi are still not speaking, equally as stubborn as one another. You know he’s been avoiding you because you haven’t even seen him in passing, a rare thing when your houses share a wall. So you avoid him too. Fuck him for making you feel bad when all you do is adore him, support him, care about him.

He hasn’t even attempted to apologise. If you really try you might be able to hold on to this anger for a week.

That’s the longest you’ve ever gone without speaking. And it was for something so juvenile you can’t even recall it to this day. Also, you were both twelve and kind of dumb. So you figure a week is your limit. That’s the longest you’ll go without talking to Yoongi. 

Tonight makes it particularly difficult when you hear a deafening crash and a thud. You pause, mid page turn of a book you were devouring and listen. The silence that follows is deafening. 

But then you hear it. The extremely distinct raised voice of Mr Min. It’s unclear exactly what he’s shouting but the tone is enough to send a shiver of fear through your entire body. There’s another raised voice that’s unmistakingly Yoongi. Your heart clenches at the sound of him. 

They continue like this for an uncomfortable length of time. You wonder what your parents think about this. Although it’s not a secret in your household you never exactly sit down and chat about what you hear through the walls with them.

When it goes silent you don’t relax. You gaze at the shared wall you know is Yoongi’s bedroom, almost as if your hard stare can penetrate the bricks and mortar. A selfish part of you hopes he comes over tonight, as per routine. You don’t indulge in each other’s bodies every time but you know even just your company is likely the only form of affection Yoongi gets and you want to take care of him any way you can. 

This thought takes you to the window, where you unlock the latch, expecting him hopefully soon. 

He doesn’t come. 

Yoongi lays on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. It’s not the water stain or the old outline of a where playboy poster used to be (he had snuck it out of Yoonseok’s collection and stuck there when he was a kid) that is captivating his attention. It’s the sound of his mom crying in the bathroom next door that’s keeping him awake.

His father had passed out a little while ago, thankfully. But not before smashing a glass dangerously close to his mom’s head and then pushing her so hard against the wall a hole appeared in the drywall. Yoongi had helped his mom clean up a few of the cuts and scrapes before she sent him out of the bathroom, claiming she wanted to wash up before bed. Her crying is breaking his heart.

Selfishly he wishes you could hear this.If you heard this you would understand in a heartbeat why he can’t leave. His mom is vulnerable. He knows you hear some of what occurs through the wall but it’s nothing as devastating as the muffled sobs his mom chokes back. The sound of a broken woman.

It makes him wonder how on Earth Yoonseok could just walk away from this and feel nothing. He hasn’t spoken to his brother since as a result. Through his Grandma he has a vague idea where Yoonseok is (doing odd jobs here and there in the city) but he doesn’t wish to know more than that. Hate is a word he reserves only for his father, but what he feels for Yoonseok is close.

He sighs, emotionally and physically exhausted, as he rolls onto his side. It’s been almost two weeks since he last saw or spoke with you and right now all he wants is to crawl into your bed and hide in you. Bury himself inside you while you clutch at him desperately. A world away from the pain and loveless home he’s trapped in right now.

He wants you so badly to be the bigger person, to be better than him like you always are. To come and find him, to sense that he needs you. He wants it so badly he aches.

Before his key is even in the door, Yoongi knows to anticipate a Bad Night. Not that the typical bad nights are easier but Bad Nights with a capital B and M are worse. He can hear his father before he even sees him and knowing that today was a weekend, and therefore a day off from work for his old man it means he’s been drinking since sun up.

He hesitates, key hovering over the lock. He could just turn away right now and pretend he had to work late. Dealing with his father’s abuse is literally draining the life out of him. For a moment he considers it, really considers it. Then he hears his mom cry out with agony. Yoongi unlocks the door.

“Mom?” He calls out as he crosses the threshold inside.

There’s a wail, followed by a whimper coming from the living room. He follows the sound. 

He’s greeted with his dad hovering over his mom who is cowering against the wall, looking smaller and frailer than ever. Something inside Yoongi snaps. With as much force as he can he shoves his father away from her. Drunk and already weary on his feet, the older man stumbles backwards a few steps before falling. 

“Are you okay?” Yoongi extends his hand to her. Shakily she places her palm in his and he helps her stand. This does not please his father who is yelling obscenities as he struggles to get to his feet. Yoongi glances at him over his shoulder and he can sense the shift in the room. “Mom, go upstairs and lock yourself in the bathroom. I’m going to talk to Dad.” He says sternly. 

“Yoongi,” She cries softly but one look at his expression and she knows how serious he is. Fearfully her eyes flicker to where her husband is, as if he somehow has the final say. It angers Yoongi like nothing else. 

By now Mr Min is standing, albeit swaying and his expression is murderous. “You shouldn’t have done that. This has got nothing to do with you stupid boy.”

“Fuck you, old man.” 

He isn’t thinking, rage is pulsing through his veins and all he can see is red when he swings a right hook at his father, fist making direct contact with the older man's jaw. Fight or flight instinct kicking in with brute force. He’s never thrown a punch before in his life. 

It takes a few dazed seconds for his opponent to recollect himself. His father looks at him with such disgust, almost as if he can’t recognise the boy standing in front of him is his own flesh and blood. Someone he was supposed to raise, protect and guide. 

Normally, he knows better than to talk back. Normally, he knows better than to get physical with his dad unless it's in defense of his mother. Normally he knows better. And now, the look in Mr Min’s eyes tell Yoongi one thing; he’s going to severely regret it.

This is your first taste of what feels like a life without Yoongi and it’s bitter. 

Fifteen days come and go with no sign from your best friend. The world feels a little emptier without him and it’s a sobering thought, that one day he might not be in your life. This realisation lights a fire under you and you decide to swallow your pride and take the first step towards reconciliation. It’s ridiculous. You and Yoongi don’t fight. It’s both of you against the world, the way it has been since you were kids.

Knowing he’s home alone again (both parents' cars are gone) you slip out of your house and make your way to his. This is probably the first time in your entire life you've ever felt nervous to see Min Yoongi. And not in a good way.

Knock knock.

You’re holding your breath as you wait and listen for signs of life from within the bricks. Silence. You knock again. 

Have five minutes passed or fifty? It’s an eternity waiting out here for Yoongi. When you’re about to turn to leave, the front door slowly creaks open. “Y/n?” 

When your eyes meet you inhale a sharp breath of air in, shocked. He has an angry black eye, swollen and purple. There’s a cut on his lip and the flesh around it is an inflamed shade of red. You don’t have to ask. You know where this came from. 

“Yoongi.” Is all you say before stepping forward and wrapping your arms around him. It’s a depressing parallel to the last encounter you had with each other. He’s silent but he returns your hold, burying his face in your hair. He inhales deeply as if it’s comforting somehow. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too.” He replies hoarsely.

“I understand why you do what you do for your mom.” You mumble into the soft cotton of his hoodie. “I just want you to be happy is all.”

“I know. I’m sorry for snapping at you.” He squeezes you a little tighter, planting a kiss on your head. 

“Please don’t ever go that long without talking to me again.” You say separating enough so you can see his face but still very much holding him in your arms. “Especially when things are this bad.” He smiles weakly and holds up a pinky, chipped with black nail polish. You link yours with his.

“Promise.” He assures.

As usual you ask - “Do you want to talk about it?”

He says nothing as he pulls you inside, lacing your hand with his. You think you know where this is going. Yoongi wants to feel loved. 

He leads you up the staircase, it groans under the weight of the two of you but otherwise the house is silent. Yoongi’s room is the first one on the upper landing, the mirror of your own bedroom in your house. The door still has a few posters of bands he had once loved and a worn logo sticker of his favorite basketball team. 

There’s a small twin bed almost identical to yours, except his is donned with a navy blue bedspread and doesn’t include the small mountain of assorted pillows that yours does. He always teases you about them, often joking he’s going to steal one and that you’d never notice. 

It’s quiet still as he leads you to the bed, sitting down first and scooting upwards until his back is flush with the headboard. “We don’t have to do anything.” He says softly as you mimic his actions. “I just missed you.”

Sometimes a person just needs someone to hold them, and you have no problem being that someone for Yoongi. Gently you pull his head to your chest and idly play with his hair, just how he likes.  A content sigh parts his lips. “I missed you too.” You tell him. “Do you know how much I wanted to run over here and tell you that Jimin came to my work, ordered a coffee, then tripped and spilled it all over himself?” 

Yoongi huffs a little laugh and you’re glad to make him smile. “Wish I’d seen that.”

“Next time don’t be a dick and maybe you could have.” You tease, knowing Yoongi has a penchant for frequenting your work for free coffee and sticking around, especially on slower days. He pinches your side playfully, although still hard enough to make you yelp. 

“I’m not a dick.” Although you can’t see his face you can hear the pout in his voice. “You live my life and then let’s see how stressed out you are.”

You were only teasing but his comment causes your heart to sink all the way to your toes. “I know you’re not.” You sigh, running your hands through his hair. “You can lean on me as much as you need. I’m basically your family at this point, Yoon.”

“Family.” He scoffs as if the word leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. “What’s that?” 

“People around you who love you.” You tell him firmly. You want to add on ‘i love you’  but the boundaries between you and Yoongi are so blurry now even you don’t know in exactly what context that would mean.

A comfortable silence settles after that. You almost wonder if he has fallen asleep, given the steady rise and fall of his breathing. You don’t know what comes over you but you pick his hand up, lacing your fingers together. He often paints his nails (you have always taunted he’s too goth to be a basketball player) and you’re examining the polish. The black paint is chipped and you stroke his index finger with yours softly.

“What are you doing weirdo?” Yoongi’s voice startles you and you freeze. 

“Your nails are totally chipped.” 

“Duh. Haven’t had time to fix them.”

“Can I paint them for you?”

He cranes his neck and gives you a confused look. “...Why?”

You’re not entirely sure yourself and you shrug. Maybe you just feel guilty and want to do something nice for him. “Okay.” He agrees slowly, still entirely not convinced but still leans forward so you can stand up and grab the bottle of polish, remover and cotton pads from his dresser. Everytime you come in his room you marvel at what a neat freak he is, everything is always so organised. 

“Black?” You confirm the color. He nods. 

You set your items out on the bed, this time opting to sit opposite Yoongi, facing him. To get close enough so that he doesn’t have to stretch his arms out uncomfortably you’re basically sitting in his lap, legs entwined. Gently you talk his palm in yours and begin to wipe away the remnants of the old paint. 

“No one has ever painted my nails before.” He chuckles. Your eyes meet and you can't help but smile. 

“That’s another first time milestone of yours I’ve taken.” Your expression turns into a wide grin. Yoongi rolls his eyes. 

He’s not delicate by any means (despite the bruises) and you don’t know why you’re treating him as such but delicate is what you are when you clean all ten of his nails. You can feel his burning gaze on you as you work; it spurs you on to do a good job. 

The room smells toxic, the fumes of the remover and the nail polish nearly make your eyes water. “Can I open the window?” You ask after the smell gets a little too much. Yoongi nods and you quickly hop off the bed and pop the frame open. The instant wave of fresh air clears your head. 

He’s watching you with a peculiar look on his face that you can’t help question but he brushes it off. You return to your earlier position and continue your handiwork. You can’t help but smile and admire the first nail, disproportionately proud of your newfound skill. Yoongi laughing ruins your moment.

“What exactly is so funny?” You question, quirking a brow. 

Still laughing he shakes his head. “You’re cute.”

The blush that creeps up from your chest to your cheeks is hot and there’s no way Yoongi doesn’t notice. He’s never really complimented you like that. In fact, he rarely says anything about your appearance, negative or positive. Occasionally when he’s mid way through fucking you something will slip out but it’s meaningless when he’s seconds away from an orgasm and not thinking clearly.

“Oh.” You mutter dumbly, trying to ignore why that makes you feel tingly inside. You carry on with your task at hand. When you’ve finished the second coat, you take him by the wrist and blow on his fingers, as if that’s going to do a whole lot to speed the drying process.

“Uh..” Yoongi makes a noise that sounds almost sexual in nature and you peer up at him with a perplexed look as you continue blowing. “This is such a douchey guy thing to say but when your mouth makes that shape....and it kinda gives me goosebumps when you do that...it reminds me of every time you’ve ever sucked my dick.”

“Oh my god.” You laugh, throwing your head back. “Seriously?!”

He nods, looking half amused, half ashamed. “They’re pretty memorable, you know.”

“Good to know.”

After his nails are dry and you’ve tidied up the mess you join him back on the bed. “Thank you.” He says, pulling you on his lap before you even have a moment to process what just happened. You straddle him, hands on his shoulders, staring intently at the injuries on his face. You brush a thumb along his bottom lip. 

“I like doing things for you.”

Yoongi holds your arm firmly in place, pressing a kiss to your thumb then bringing your hand to cup his face and planting a kiss against your wrist. His larger hand rests atop your hand, keeping it there and he nuzzles into you. There’s a palpable tension and the air suddenly feels too thick. It’s almost hard to breathe. As you get lost in his eyes it feels as if the world around you has vanished, leaving only you and Yoogi, in your own private universe. 

You lean in closer. His breath ghosts your lips. You’ve missed kissing him so much.

Then, the front door slams.

“Shit.” Yoongi flies up so quickly it’s a wonder you’re not thrown to the floor. “They’re home.” His parents are earlier than expected. 

“I’ll sneak out if you distract them?” It’s not that Yoongi’s parents don’t like you, they just a: wouldn’t approve of you being over unsupervised and without permission and b: the less fuel you can add to the fire the better. Mr Min will look for anything to be upset with when it comes to his son. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t apologise. Just go.” You push him towards the door. Before he leaves he turns to you and asks -

“ - See you tonight?”

Yoongi’s in - dare he say it - a good mood when he sneaks out later that same day. His dad passed out early (a rare but welcome occasion) leaving the Min household in a relatively peaceful state for once. Slipping out the front door, armed with a box of his mom’s homemade cookies that you love, he makes the short trip to your bedroom.

A knuckle taps quietly against the window and he can’t help but grin when he sees the excitement in your eyes. After all you had unfinished business from earlier. You bounce over to the window wearing that cute lilac pyjama short set (the one that makes it hard for him to concentrate) and let him inside. 

“They’re still awake.” You whisper, holding a finger to his lips when he goes to speak. He nods in understanding, aware you mean your parents.

“For you.” He matches your hushed tone as he passes you the box of cookies. Your eyes light up with delight and a tiny gasp leaves your lips.

“My favorite! Your mom must have been in a good mood today to be baking.”

“Dad went to bed early, so..” He shrugs.

“Thank you.” You put the box on your desk and engulf Yoongi in a hug of gratitude. 

His hands are cold when he slides them beneath your flimsy camisole, wanting nothing more than to feel your naked skin. He kneads the flesh of your bare hips under his hands before dragging his nose along the juncture of where your collarbone meets your neck and inhaling. The scent of you, your skin and your body wash was comforting and arousing. 

He wonders sometimes if you truly knew the effect you had on him as his lips ghost over your skin with the briefest of touches. He wants to drown in you. This is the only place he’s ever felt safe. 

You exhale a shaky breath that sounds a lot like his name. He pushes your hair over your shoulder allowing his lips to roam your decliotage freely. There’s not a part of your body he hasn’t kissed, he thinks. He laves his way up your throat and meets your awaiting mouth. He can taste your strawberry lip balm, a taste he will forever associate with you.

You whisper between kisses that he has to be quiet (as always) but intrigue him when you push him towards the white wooden chair that matches the desk. He sits down and you swing a leg over his lap so you’re straddling him, a more intimate version of how you were on his bed earlier. 

“This is new.” He hums, hands stroking up and down your sides. 

“Can’t have the headboard crashing into the wall again now can we?” You giggle, pushing some of his hair off his face. 

Yoongi agrees with a smirk, gaze roving over your willing body. He strips you of your camisole, before devouring your breasts, taking one in each hand and grazing a thumb over your quickly hardening nipples. His lips find purchase on your neck once more. It’s almost sinful how you’re already grinding shamelessly against him. 

“Stand up and take these off.” He commands, snapping the waistband of your little shorts to punctuate his point. Quickly you shed the clothing, kicking them off. Yoongi’s cock is aching a little now, having been pent up for a few hours now. He hastily shoves his sweatpants down enough for his member to spring free.

When you’re seated on his lap you moan in pleasure at the feeling of his hardness against your bare pussy. “I’ve missed you.” You breathe, rocking your hips enough so that the tip of his cock brushes through your lips. He shudders at the combination of your voice and sensation.

His hands can’t seem to decide exactly where he wants to touch you. One has a handful of your ass, encouraging your movements and the other is palming at your tits. Then when you beg him to touch you he knows exactly where his hands want to be.

A sense of pride washes over him every time he feels how wet he makes you. There’s a thrill in knowing he’s the only one who has ever made you like this. The only one who has ever touched you like this. His thumb circles your clit slowly. He watches you with ravenous eyes.

Your soft whines just make the ache to be inside you increase tenfold. It’s so much better than any dirty movie he’s ever seen. It’s real and it's for him. “O-Oh, Yoongi.” Your head falls forward, resting on his shoulder. “I’m ready. Please. Just want you. It’s been too long.”

The fact that two weeks without him was too long for you does nothing but inflate his ego. Rarely does Yoongi ever feel just this self assured. “You have me.” He whispers, positioning you over his swollen cock. Slowly you lower yourself onto him, taking him like the good girl you are. “Fuckkk.” He exhales when you’re completely full of him.

“It’s s-so much.” You choke. He knows exactly what you mean. This is a new position and a new angle for you both. As beginners to sex neither of you had the confidence or experience to experiment too much yet. With you speared on his lap, it’s deeper than he’s ever felt you before. 

His grip on your hips is bruisingly tight as he stills you for a moment. It’s overwhelming how good you feel and he already came far too fast last time. He bites down on the juncture of your neck and shoulder, eyes squeezed shut tight. 

Eventually he calms down enough to let you bounce on him. Your eyes threaten to roll back in your head, lids fluttering shut. His mouth hangs open and he knows he porbbaly looks so dumb right now but he couldn’t fucking care. Not with how unbelievably good it felt. 

“Yoongi,” You pant, laughing a little “You know I saw this in porn and wanted to try it.”

“Yeah - uh, wa - what?” He splutters, stilling you completely to ensure he heard you correctly. “Since when do you watch porn?”

“Last week the cable TV glitched.” You bite your lip shyly. “I may have watched some.”

“Fuck.” He growls, lifting you up and slamming you back down on his length. The idea of you watching porn, masturbating to porn and then thinking about him almost has him blowing his load immediately. God knows he’s thought about you countless times. Even before you’d had ever even had sex. “You have no. Idea. How hot that is.”

“Yeah? You think so?” You’re breathless, cheek to cheek as you whisper in his ear. 

“The idea of you touching yourself.” He groans. “Wishing it was me.”

“Of course I wished it was you.” You moan. “Think about you fucking me all the time. You can have me whenever you want me, Yoongi.”

Shit He’s so close to cumming already. Whispered obcenties tumble out from under his breath. Just as you’re starting to get too loud Yoongi covers your mouth with his hand but you grab his two of his fingers and suck them into your hot mouth, muffling your moan as you cum. The sensation of your mouth and your pussy is his undoing, and he explodes not even seconds later, cumming harder than he can ever remember. 

“You’re going to ruin me.” He pants, chest heaving. 

You laugh, pressing your sweaty forehead against his. “Not if you ruin me first.”

Weekday routine insists you always assist your mother with the after dinner clean up. When you were younger you were often (as your father put it - ‘deviously smart’) at inventing excuses to get out of chores. Now as an almost adult you, it isn’t such a hassle. It’s even nice to spend a little time talking with your mother. 

The relationship you have with your parents is the inverse of the one Yoongi has with his. It wasn’t until you understood the gravity of his situation did you really start appreciating them in a newfound way. You could be a bratty kid in your youth, like everyone but you thank your lucky stars you had a loving, safe environment.

“Careful with that plate darling, it’s china.” Your mom instructs as she hands you the dinner plate, knowing full well how clumsy you can be. 

“How about we just eat from paper plates now on? They don’t break.”

Your mom cracks a smile as she shakes her head. “When it’s your house you can make the rules.” She gives you a pointed look. After a few moments of silence she asks - “How is Yoongi? I haven’t seen him over in a while.”

You look away to hide the blush that floods your cheeks. He’s over nearly every other night, mother. Right under your nose.

“He’s fine. Same old, same old.” You sigh, stretching up on to your tip toes as you put the precious plate away. 

“Is he joining you at Hangyang in September?” You mom pries. 

Oh shit. You’d forgotten to tell her. “Uh, no. No he’s not.”

“Oh sweetie. I’m sorry. I know you two were looking forward to it. It’s a shame he didn’t get in.” 

“That’s not why.” You take yet another precious china plate from her to dry. “It’s his parents.”

“Oh.” 

You don’t have to elaborate any further. It’s not a secret in your home. Your parents aren’t deaf, they hear everything you do. “I wish he would leave them. He’s worried for his mom.”

A long, forlorn sigh leaves your mother. “Gosh when he was young your father and I would phone the police on the really bad nights.” She tells you with a shake of her head.

“What? Seriously?” This was brand new information to you. She nods.

“Mrs Min always defended her husband. Made us look like we were imaging things. It’s so sad.” Her eyes grow misty. “I don’t blame that poor Yoonseok for running away. At one point we even tried to adopt Yoongi, you know.”

“Fuck, really?”

“Language.” Your mother warns and you hastily apologise, desperate to hear more of the story. “Yes. He spent so much time here, it was like he was our kid anyway. We seriously looked into it, hired a lawyer and a social worker. But it was too difficult. Mrs Min stopped talking to us for a long time.”

“I had no idea.” You breathe, awed. Although the idea of Yoongi potentially being your brother makes you feel nauseous now, given everything. 

“Mrs Min is a nice woman. She adores her children but she struggles.” Your mom says empathetically. “As for Mr Min? He was the picture perfect father and husband for a good while when they first moved in. You were too young to remember.” 

“I wish I could help them.” 

“I know you do honey. If only it was so simple.” You mom smiles. “Yoongi is lucky to have you. That boy is welcome in our home any time, as far as I’m concerned. And tell him I was asking after him won’t you?”

“Of course. He’ll like that you were.”

Aside from Yoongi, Anni is probably the person you’re closest with. The juxtaposition between her and Yoongi is almost comical, like night and day. She is bubbly, fun and out-going; a stark contrast to Yoongi’s more foreboding and at times broody nature. Of course he was fun, but in such a different way. 

Anni somehow persuades you to accompany her to a house party. Your entire high school life you’ve only ever been to a handful. They’re not exactly your thing. But college is encroaching and that’s what you’re supposed to be doing there right? Partying, drinking, occasionally studying. So it doesn’t take a lot of convincing to get you prettied up and ready to go.

It’s Seyoon’s house that’s your destination, a guy in your year you’ve only spoken to a handful of times. The moment you set foot in the crowded building you already feel awkwardly out of place. As if your friend senses this she whispers in your ear, “You look great, don’t think so much.” while pushing you through the crowd. 

The first point of call is obviously alcohol. Together you do two shots each before grabbing a cup of something questionable. “Oh! There’s Soomin. Let’s go say hi.”

Soomin was Anni’s friend, someone you only knew by acquaintance. You spot her talking to a group of two guys and a girl you recognise but don’t know her name.  You instantly feel a little nervous, one of the guys is clearly older, and not to mention handsome. He looks like a model, beautiful dark hair coiffed perfectly. 

Soomin is very friendly and greets you both with welcoming hugs before introducing you to the group. “This is Yeona, her boyfriend Jongsuk and my cousin Seokjin.” 

“You don’t go to our school. You look like you spend your time in a drama as the male lead.” Anni teases Seokjin playfully. Of course she would be flirting right off the bat. He takes it in stride, shaking his head with a grin. 

“I used to. I just finished my first year at Hangyang Uni.” 

“That’s where I’m going next year.” You smile up at him. When he makes eye contact you blush like the school kid you technically are. 

“Really? That’s great. What are you studying?” He asks, stepping a little closer so he can hear you over the music. 

“I’m hoping to get my degree in Psychology and Sociology.” 

“Are you joking?” He laughs. At once you’re confused. You don’t exactly look like the studious academic type, and he doesn’t have to be rude about it.

“No…” You frown. “Why?”

“I’m a psychology student too. You’ll probably even be on the same campus as me!” He grins.

“Ohhhh, that’s cool! What are the odds?” 

“I know? Isn’t that so weird?” He laughs. 

“Do you enjoy it?” You ask, genuinely curious. That’s been a big fear of yours, worried you’ll begin your (expensive) further education and hate it. 

“I love it. I’ve always been interested in Psychology so learning from some of the best experts in the country is amazing.” He looks like a kid on christmas, eyes lighting up as he speaks. This guy might be model handsome on the outside but he is a total geek. It’s so endearing, you can’t help but like it.  “It’s a great school. You’ll enjoy it.”

By now the others' conversations have died out. Seokjin’s eyes dart downwards to your empty drink. “Want another?” 

“Yeah alright.”

“Come with me, I can tell you about all the cool spots on campus and what books not to buy.” He grabs you by the wrist as he says a quick ‘be right back’ to Yeona. Anni gives you a knowing smirk but you mouth ‘shut up’ at her. 

Hoseok’s sunny, cheerful demeanour is something Yoongi normally appreciates about his friend. Unless it’s used as a weapon against him, like it is tonight. This is how he finds himself sipping on a disgustingly warm beer in the corner of Seyoon’s vast living room, doing nothing more exciting than people watching. 

You had told him earlier in the week you’d been roped into attending. Maybe that’s why he’d agreed to go with less resistance than usual. If he was truly honest with himself he was scanning the room, hoping to find you and turn this night around. The few times you’d got drunk together were always fun. 

He spies Anni first, talking to a group of people, which means you can’t be far off. He knows you went with her. That’s when some movement catches his eye. 

Initially it’s the tall pretty boy who alerts his attention, but his gaze drops downward to see him leading you of all people somewhere, wrist firmly encaptured in his grip.

Something hot and prickly rises in his chest and his heart feels like it’s screeched to a halt. If he witnesses this strange boy take you upstairs he might just lose it. That’s what usually happens at these parties.

He exhales a shaky breath of relief when the two of you make a beeline for the kitchen. Although the adrenaline rush isn’t gone yet, his heart is still thundering his ribcage. Through a small gap in the crowd he sees you talking, smiling, laughing. You look like you’re having fun. He doesn’t want to ruin that.

“Do you want another?” Hoseok nudges him with his elbow, gesturing with his head to the nearly finished beer Yoongi clutches. 

He does want another but that would mean going into the kitchen, so he refuses.

“Come on, little MinMin.” Hoseok teases, using Yoongi’s least favourite nickname. He hates being called little, or tiny, or short. “I know you want one.”

“Fine but I’m staying here. Fetch it for me.” 

Hoseok sticks his tongue out at him before grabbing his empty bottle and disappearing with it.

“Me? No I’m not really into the partying side of college life but I can show you where to go if you are.” Seokjin has been sharing his wisdom for you for the last forty minutes. Evidently he’s learned a lot in a year at Hangyang. “I read books and chill. By myself.” He laughs and you join him. 

“It’s funny how we both aren’t the partying type and we literally met at a party.” You can’t help but chuckle, shaking your head at the absurdity of the situation. “Should we rejoin the others?”

Seokjin agrees and as you two exit the kitchen you see the back of someone’s head that looks a lot like Yoongi’s friend Hobi. You hesitate for a minute, attempting to decipher if it really is him or not when a subtle touch at the small of your back from Seokjin jolts you back into the present. 

“Come on.” He’s so unintentionally suave. It makes your heart beat just a little faster. 

Anni is animatedly telling the story of when you and her accidentally tried to give her white maltese dog Pricilla a bath and accidentally turned her pink with the wrong shampoo. “Your mom still hasn’t let me live that done!” You join in at the end. 

“Neither has Pricilla.” Anni grins.

“Please tell me you don’t have a dog.” Seokjin asks, grabbing both your shoulders in dramatic mock concern. “Please y/n, think about the animals!”

“I didn’t act alone!” You defend shooting a glare at Anni, who is playing innocent. 

“Well it’s a good thing you’re not allowed animals on campus.” Seokjin smirks. Anni gives you yet another knowing look. You can practically see the internal cogs of her brain whirring to life. Ever since Jimin she’s been dying for you to at least hook up with someone. Little did she know about Yoongi.

“You two should meet up when you’re both at school.” The look on Anni’s face tells you she’s assuming she’s doing you a favour, a gentle nudge forward in your romantic life. 

Before you can awkwardly deflect the question and give Seokjin an escape he answers first. “Yes we should, y/n. If you want.”

“Uh, sure.” You don’t see why not. As of now he’s the only person you know at Uni. It might make the transition a little more fluid. 

“Maybe y/n you can give him your number?” Anni meddles further. Oh god, you look so desperate now. You’re not interested in dating him and she’s making it seem like you are.

“I’ll have a different number when I’m at school.” You remind her. 

Seokjin reads between the lines, sensing he’s not quite privy to all the information. “No problem, I’ll give you mine.” 

He excuses himself for a moment, to grab a pen and paper. You look to see where he’s going and your eyes land on the one person you did not expect to see here. Yoongi. Yoongi watches you as he makes his way out onto the patio with Hoseok, dark eyes unreadable. Your heart leaps. Immediately you want to go over and say hello but you can’t. With one final glance he disappears through the sliding doors. Why do you feel like you’ve been caught doing something wrong?

“Here.”

Seokjin hands you a slip of paper with his home number and campus number. “Kim Seokjin.” You read aloud to yourself. “Thank you for this. I just saw my good friend here so I’m going to say hello. It was lovely meeting you!”

“You too.” He smiles warmly. 

“Come on Anni, Hobi’s here.” You inform her and her eyes widen in surprise. She likes Hobi. A lot. It’s the sweetest thing. 

“Bye Seokjin!” 

You drag Anni away before she can do any more damage.

Yoongi and Hoseok are sitting on the railing of the large wooden patio, joined by Jungkook who seemed to materialize out of nowhere. He’s talking energetically about something but Yoongi isn’t really focusing. He spots you walking over to him. Your face lights up as soon as your eyes meet. It makes him feel funny.

“I didn’t think you would be here.” You smile brightly as you come to a stop before him. 

“Hobi tricked me.” He shrugs, sipping his beer. The frown that his dry response elicits makes him feel guilty. “Are you two having fun?” He nods his head towards Anni.

“Y/n was.” She giggles, nudging you suggestively. “How about you two? I haven’t seen you in a while Hoseok.”

He flashes her a winning smile. “You’re seeing me now.” 

Yoongi fights an intense urge to roll his eyes. Hobi’s flirting always made him cringe. It’s even worse when it actually works. Hoseok offers everyone a drink but only Anni takes him up on the offer. Together they disappear in search of alcohol, leaving Yoongi alone with you. He feels awkward for some reason.

“You know she likes him, right? Hobi.” You say after a few beats of silence pass between you. Yoongi figured, from the way Anni hung on Hoseok’s every word.

“I’m sure he’d be down to hook up. He’s not picky.” He mutters. 

“Yoongi.” You scold. “They suit each other. They would be cute together.”

He hums in response. You’re right, of course but he’s not really in the headspace to be getting giddy about whether two people will fuck or not. 

You hoist yourself onto the railing next to him, scooting close enough that your bodies are touching. He tenses when you lay your head on his shoulder. “You’re not in a good mood tonight.” It’s not a question, you’re just consistently excellent at reading his emotions.

“You know I hate parties.” He mumbles. 

“Me too.”

“You looked like you were having fun earlier. Don’t feel obligated to sit with me.” He speaks before he thinks. It makes him sound bitter and jealous and angry. He hates it because not only does it make him sound pathetic; it’s true.

“I want to sit with you.” You correct quietly.

He doesn’t know how to respond, praise and affection always make him feel a little awkward. For a while you sit in comfortable silence, just watching the rest of what seems like the world have fun. Yoongi spies that tall pretty boy you were talking to glancing over and he feels a little smug at the disappointment on the strangers face seeing you and Yoongi looking cosy together. 

“Those two have been taking a suspiciously long time.” Yoongi muses, attention now back on his beer. 

“Yeah,” You huff a laugh. “I wonder why…”

“Do you wanna get out of here?” Yoongi asks abruptly. “Let’s go to the diner. I’m hungry.”

“That sounds like a plan.” You agree to his surprise. 

At your suggestion you seek out Hoseok and Anni to extend an invitation, only to find them kissing in a darkened corner of the hallway. Yoongi rolls his eyes while you snicker - “About time.”

When Yoongi smiles - really smiles - his entire demeanour changes. He has the tendency to look intimidating and cold when his expression is neutral (“I can’t help my face!” he would always defend when people mentioned it) but when he laughs his eyes light up like stars. You adore his gummy smile. 

The thought captures you in the diner as the two of you are doubled over with laughter. You were trying to throw a french fry into Yoongi’s mouth but missed completely, hitting an older woman in the booth behind, directly on the forehead. 

“No wonder you suck at basketball with an aim like that.” He grins, stuffing some fries in his mouth. 

“I’m so embarrassed.” You cover your reddening face with your hands but you’re still laughing. 

“It’s a good thing we’re Mike’s best customers or I’m sure we would have been kicked out by now.” Yoongi points out. He’s right. The greasy, twenty four hour diner has been your hang out for years now. 

“I’m going to miss it when I’m at college. I’ll have to make special trips back for the strawberry milkshakes.” You realise. 

“What about me?!” He scoffs playfully. “Nice to know on your list of priorities I’m below milkshake.”

“You know you’re my favourite.” You coo, stealing a fry from his hand before he has the chance to bite it. The look of indignation he gives you only makes you giggle. 

You walk home together, happy and still a little buzzed from the alcohol at the party. Somewhere along the way the back of Yoongi’s hand brushes against yours and he laces your fingers together. 

Summer persists in much the same way. Yoongi gets a job across the street from your work as a full time record store employee. He enjoys talking about music in his free time, so he figures he may as well get paid for it. You’re happy for him and he seems a little more content. You coordinate lunch breaks when you can, meeting to eat in the sunshine. 

Once a week Yoongi brings you a record or cassette he thinks that you’ll like. Sometimes he leaves little notes inside the sleeve of the vinyl, secret messages just for you. They range from random thoughts of his, inside jokes or just which song he loved the most. It’s such a Yoongi thing to do.

You make and bring him iced americano’s, on the house of course. At this point you’re pretty sure everyone he works with assumes you are a couple. What’s weird is that it doesn’t bother you in the slightest. 

If you thought the boundaries between you and Yoongi were blurred before, it’s even more confusing now. Yoongi treats you as if you’re his girlfriend, but only when you’re alone of course. When your other friends are around no one would suspect anything at all is going on between you. To say it’s messing with your head is an understatement. You wonder if Yoongi is going through the same mental turmoil about this as you are.

Probably not, if you’re being truly honest with yourself. A part of you knows he’s just latching on to you for comfort, for a way of coping. It’s not like his home life has magically improved in the last few weeks. Truthfully it seems to be steadily worsening. 

It’s pathetic how willing you are to pretend that it’s real. That you belong to Yoongi and he to you. Your mother once told you, amidst your heartbreak over Jimin while you had been blaming yourself for him cheating, that if someone wanted to do something, they would, regardless of you. She said it to comfort you but the words haunt you now. If Yoongi wanted you to be together, wouldn’t he ask?

You’re leaving for college soon. You won’t have Yoongi for much longer. So for now, you’ll allow yourself this indulgence, and just enjoy being with him.

“Please tell me you are not taking these.” Anni exclaims, holding up a pair of chunky black platform boots. “They’re the ugliest things I’ve ever seen.” She giggles at the look of outrage on your face. 

You’ve recruited Anni and Yoongi to help you pack some of your belongings since it’s only seven short days until you leave for Hangyang and could use the extra pair(s) of hands. The afternoon has consisted mainly of Anni questioning your taste whilst Yoongi rocks on your desk chair, attempting to solve a rubix cube he managed to find. 

“Yes I am taking those! They’re cute and they make me feel tall.” You snatch the shoes from her and place them in your suitcase. “Right Yoongi?” You ask, looking for backup.

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” He mumbles without even bothering to look up from the toy in his hands. 

“I’m going to miss you and your ugly shoes so much.” Anni sighs dramatically earning an eye roll from you. 

“I’m only one hour away from your school babe.” You remind her. Like you, she’s also leaving Daegu for Seoul. “It’ll be easy for us to meet up.”

“Have you met your roommates yet?” She inquires, inspecting yet another pair of your shoes. 

“Yeah, I’m with two girls. They seem nice enough. We have our own separate rooms which is nice.”

“That means you can have boys over.” She says suggestively. You hear Yoongi scoff slightly under his breath. 

“Yeah yeah,” You dismiss. “Speaking of boys, what’s going on with you and Hobi?” 

“He does not shut up about you.” Yoongi pipes up to Anni’s delight. “Seriously. It’s annoying.”

“I like him a lot. And we get on great.” She gushes, face lighting up. “But we’re going to be so far apart come September.” While you both are leaving for the city, Hoseok is going south for school.

“You can still date long distance.” You suggest.

“No you can’t.” Yoongi cuts in bluntly. “It won’t work.”

“What?” You look at him incredulously. “Of course they can.”

“No they can’t.” He rebuts, leaning forward resting his arms on his knees.. “It might work for a while. But she’ll be busy and will be meeting new people and he won’t be a priority anymore, because he doesn’t fit into her new life!”

“She cares about him! She’ll make time for him to fit into her life!”

“That’s bullshit. It won’t happen.” Yoongi jeers, a nasty undertone to his words that’s far too visceral to be directed at Anni.

“Alright, jeez. Calm down you two.” Anni looks between you, wide eyed. “I know you both care about me and Hobi but you don’t have to take it so personally.”

You and Yoongi lock eyes for a moment, a secret realization transpires between you, about exactly why you’re taking one another’s words so seriously. Before the tension in the room can worsen, your mom knocks on the bedroom door.

“Come in.” You call. She pokes her head through the door. “Hey mom.”

“How’s the packing going?” She inquires, peering around the room.

“Getting there.” You exhale, blowing some stray hairs away from your forehead.

“Good, good.” She nods. “I just got back from the supermarket, I bumped into Kim Jangmi and we had a very interesting chat.”

“Kim Jangmi?” You struggle to recall the name. It sounds familiar but you don’t exactly know the name of every single one of your mother’s friends. 

“Yes! You know, from my book club? Anyway she was with her son and we all got to chatting and apparently you met him a few weeks ago. Kim Seokjin!”

“Oh….yeah.” You mumble. “He goes to Hangyang and we ended up speaking for a bit.” 

“The handsome guy from the party?!” Anni interrupts keenly.

“Gosh, he is handsome isn’t he?” Your mother agrees, a little too enthusiastically for your liking. “He said you’re going to meet up at school?”

You glance at Yoongi before you answer, he  is clearly pretending not to be interested in the conversation, looking at the rubix cube as if it is the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. “Maybe. I don’t know. I barely know him.”

“He gave you his phone number.” Anni chirps. 

Yoongi’s eyes flick to you.  

“He was just being friendly.” You feel defensive for some reason. “We are on the same course, that’s all.”

“He’s a really nice boy, y/n. The reason why I came here was to tell you he’s going to help us when you move in next week.” Your mom beams.

“What?” You gasp, annoyed. “Why did you have to rope him into that?!” 

“He offered!” 

You sigh, feeling frustrated and defeated. “Okay mom. I'm sure that’s a lie, but ok.”

“Stop being difficult, darling.” She sighs. “I’m going to start on dinner now. Yoongi, Anni, you’re both welcome to stay.”

Yoongi and Anni both say thank you before your mother bids her goodbye. It’s odd in the room now; you feel exposed as if Yoongi just found out a secret you’ve been hiding. You want to tell him you’re not interested in Seokjin. You want to tell him you’re only interested in him. But you can’t. So the three of you continue packing.

Anni doesn’t sense the tension. “I hope your mom is making mac and cheese for dinner. Hers is the best.”

Seven days feels like a substantial amount of time but it’s not, Yoongi has come to understand. His last week with you flew by and he wishes he had even just one more day before you depart for Seoul. Seoul feels final. Seoul feels like the end.

Your life is going to change drastically, in almost every aspect, while his will remain the same. He knows it, feels it in his gut, that you’re going to leave him behind. You were always better than him, too good for him and now you’re going to realise it. And he’s been clinging on like a desperate man.

Somehow he manages to convince you to sneak out. It’s one am and you have to be up early for the big move but he’s grateful when you agree anyway. He’s waiting for you in his car. It’s silent apart from the low thrum of the idle engine and some indie rock playing over the radio at a low volume. 

You slip out of your front door, in a hoodie that Yoongi notes belongs to him. He can’t help how the sight makes his heart swell and excitement begin to race through him. He leans across the console and opens the passenger door for you. “Hi.” You whisper with a smile. 

“Hi.” He whispers back. 

He waits for you to buckle your seatbelt before pulling off. The roads are almost deserted at this time, a fact he finds oddly soothing. 

“Do I get to know where we are going or…?” You ask, peeking at him slyly out of the corner of your eye. 

“You’ll know in a minute.” Is his response. He’s taking you to a spot you’ve both been many times before. There’s an observatory at one of the highest points in town which gives an amazing view of the landscape below as well as the stars. It’s peaceful.

When he parks in the abandoned parking lot (the observatory has long since closed, lying abandoned now) there’s a fond smile playing on your lips. You like it here, having always been fond of the night sky. “Is there a reason you brought me here?”

Yes. 

“No,” He answers with a shrug. “Just wanted to have a nice last night with you.”

“You’re acting like I’m going to war or something.” You laugh. “I’ll be back and forth between here and Uni all the time.”

You say that now but he thinks (knows) the reality will be much different. 

He’s silent as he draws you in for a kiss. Hands cup your face and he pours as much intensity as he can into the gesture. His name falls breathlessly from your lips as he pulls away. “I need to tell you something.” He manages to choke out. He’s nervous and it constricts his vocal chords.

You blink a few times before your eyes widen with worry. “Is everything okay Yoongi?” 

“Yeah! Yeah..” He tries to convince you. “With you leaving and all I just wanted to let you know. Y/n… you mean a lot to me.” He takes a deep breath, an attempt to summon some courage, whilst you watch him curiously. “Our..friendship is different now. Things have changed.” No shit, he thinks. “I like you. So much. More than anyone else. I - I, you, you know?”

He wants to verbalise that he loves you so badly, but his brain is blocking the words from escaping. He feels like a fool. An emotionally stunted fool.

“Yoongi,” You say gently. Your eyes search his own and he knows you understand what he’s trying to say. You’ve always been excellent at reading him. “Me too.”

“I’ve never felt like this about anyone before.” He confesses in a low voice. “You’re everything to me.”

“I feel exactly the same.”

His heart constricts before thudding wildly in his chest. This was the answer he had hoped before. He hooks your pinky with his just like he always does. “Promise me if things change when you’re away we’ll be friends.” He can hardly look at you as he asks his desperate question.

“I promise.”  You squeeze his pinky tightly. “Nothing will change. You will always have me, Yoongi.”

Little more words and confessions are exchanged between you. Yoongi fucks you in the back seat of his car for what he hopes isn’t that last time. It’s different, passionate and slow. The windows steam up just like in the movies.

Still naked and sticky on top of you, he stretches forward and draws a heart in the condensation on the window. He writes both of your initials inside of it, then kisses you through your adorable giggles. 

The sun begins to rise and you watch it together before he drives you home.

The next time you will see Yoongi will be December. Three whole months from now. The thought anxiously chews away at your insides as you watch his house disappear in your rearview mirror. He has the phone number of your dorm and you promised to arrange regular phone catch ups. With your mother’s blessing you gave him a copy of the key to your house so he will always have a refuge, even if you’re not there to be one for him.

Areum and Oli are surprisingly easy to get along with. It’s never easy to live with people so you’re thankful you lucked out with some decent roommates. The first night away from home the three of you spend the evening drinking wine, eating take out and getting to know one another. 

Your room is cute, decorated with a few polaroids of you and friends and some fairy lights that twinkle at night. Among them is two pictures of you with Yoongi. The first from when you were ten and your mom managed to catch him and you napping on the sofa together and the second was from the last few months and he’s wearing that smile you love. It only makes you miss him more.

College officially doesn’t start for one week, the seven remaining days are filled with orientations and registrations and parties. Almost every bar and restaurant in the area have deals and themed nights on in order to entice the students out and it works.

The third night as an official Hangyang student you find yourself at dinner with Seokjin. After he had struggled to get your mattress into your room he had winked at you and said ‘you can make it up to me by buying me dinner’. Sufficiently guilty at receiving so much of his help you had agreed.

“I spent almost my entire first year here.” He jokes as he sits opposite you at a typical burger place he’d insisted you take him to. “You won’t find a better burger in a fifty km radius.”

“We’ll see. I have plenty of time to find out.”

Now that you’re out of the earshot of your parents you take the time to apologise for them roping him into helping you move. Seokjin waves it off with a genuine smile. If you didn’t know better you would think he wanted to help you. 

Surprisingly it’s easy to spend time with him and you soon discover you have a lot in common, beyond being on the same course and coming from the same town. He watches re-runs of 80s sitcoms too and loves bad horror movies. He even has the same obsession with milkshakes you do. 

“Let’s share one.” He suggests, ordering only one lone milkshake from the waitress. 

“This isn’t 1950. Or lady and the tramp.” You laugh, scrunching up your noise. 

“Hey! Lady and Tramp share spaghetti. Have some respect.” 

“Oh I’m sorry, I naturally should have assumed that you, a twenty two year old college male felt so strongly towards an old disney film.” You giggle.

He leans in close and beckons you to do the same, as if he’s going to whisper a secret. “I think it’s the cutest film ever.”

“Aw, you’re a secret softie.” You smile.

“The softest.” He agrees. 

Your milkshake arrives and it suddenly dawns on you why he wanted to order one to share. This thing was as large as a two liter bottle, and after a huge burger you doubt you could have finished one alone. 

It’s almost - dare you say it - cute, sharing the dessert with him. You’re glad you agreed to the dinner. It’s been years since you spent time with another boy that wasn’t Yoongi and it’s nice. Between some of the classmates you’ve met, your roommates and Seokjin college feels hopeful. You’re excited. 

You go to pay the check but Seokjin stops you with a laugh, assuring you he was only joking before. “Let me treat you, as a thanks for your time.” He says before walking away with a grin. 

Three weeks away from home and your routine is beginning to shape and settle itself. Classes aren’t as hard as you expect them to be but you have a sneaking suspicion it won’t stay that way for long. Seokjin offers to help if you need it and you’re grateful that he’s slowly becoming a friend. 

Thursday nights have become a regular thing in your new home. Areum, Oli and yourself make it a thing to have dinner together and gossip about the week. Oli is majoring in sports medicine so is almost always busy while Areum is studying law, which all but shackles her to the library. 

There’s a knock on the door and you hop to your feet, hungry and eager to receive the chinese food you’d ordered for the three of you. To your surprise is Seokjin on the other side and not the delivery guy you’ve become so familiar with as of late. 

“Seokjin. Hey! What brings you here?” You ask, trying not to sound too put out. As far as you were aware you had no prior plans arranged.

“I just finished my shift at the library and thought I’d come see my favourite freshman.If that’s okay?” He eyes you curiously.

“My roommates and I were just about to have dinner. Unless you want to join?” One more can’t hurt and usually you order far too much food anyway. He agrees eagerly with a smile 

Areum and Oli have met Seokjin once before and they greet him warmly when he joins the three of you in the small sitting area. Areum helps you grab some plates and napkins in preparation for the food arriving. Once in the kitchen she peeks over her shoulder to make sure she’s not heard, whispering lowly - “Are you two dating now?” 

“W-what?” You stutter, so completely taken aback you almost drop the porcelain you’re holding. “No!” 

“Don’t look so offended.” Areum laughs at your reaction. “He’s gorgeous. And so into you.” “No he’s not. Don’t be ridiculous.” You’re quick to defend. Seokjin is your friend and nothing more. You have Yoongi. Sort of. 

“So you wouldn’t mind if he and Oli…?” She nods her head towards the two of them, talking and smiling.

“Of course not.” You answer sharply. Areum looks at you as if she doesn’t believe you but doesn’t press the topic further as you rejoin your friends.

“Oh y/n, before I forget someone called for you this afternoon. I totally forgot to say before I had my nap.” Oli says as you sit down. “That Yoongi guy.” 

Both of the girls are familiar with Yoongi, given the amount you speak with him.  You called each other every other night, it was unusual for him to call during the day. “Oh. Thank you for letting me know. Do you guys mind if I call him back real quick before dinner?”

Your friends assure you it’s fine and you disappear to the kitchen where the house phone resides. Quickly you dial Yoongi’s number, having long since memorised it. You eye the clock, hoping it’s him that answers and not one of his parents. Thankfully your silent prayer is answered when his gruff voice greets.

“Yoongi, it’s me.” You begin quietly. “I’m so sorry I missed your call today, I only just found out - “

“ - It’s okay.” He interupts gently. “You’re calling now.”

“How are things?”

He lets out a worrying sigh. Something in your gut alerts you that things are not good for him right now. “Mom’s in the hospital. Courtesy of Mr Asshole himself.” He spits the last part out with venom.

“Oh my god. Is she okay?” 

“Yeah. No. Well, she’s alive. He broke her jaw, knocked out a few teeth.” He says it so casually, it only further exemplifies how used to this behaviour he has become. It’s a miracle he is nothing like his father. “She lied about it to the doctors but y/n, they know. I can see it in their eyes and they either look at us like we’re stupid or that they pity us.”

“I’m sure they don’t think that. They probably see instances like this all the time. It’s heartbreaking as an outsider.” You assure. “This could be a huge turning point. To actually get your mom away from your dad.”

“Yeah.” He exhales. It’s clear he doesn’t believe your nor agree. “Fuck, I wish you were here right now y/n.”

“Me too.” You reply softly, heart aching in your chest. You wish you were too. “It’s almost the weekend, maybe I can book a train home?” You have your first assignment due in a week and definitely don’t have the time to waste at home but for Yoongi you would do anything. 

“You don’t have to do that.” He sounds choked up. You wonder if he’s crying. “I’ll be busy looking after my mom anyway. I just needed to hear your voice. I miss you.”

“I miss you. Remember you have my key? Use it as much as you need it. You can always come up here for a day or a weekend.” You suggest.

The knock at the door signalling that the food has arrived is loud enough that Yoongi hears it through the phone. Areum’s voice yells to you as she answers it. “Sounds like you have to go. I’m sorry if I’ve ruined your evening.” Yoongi tells you sadly.

“Can I call you later?” You ask hopefully.

“Please.” Yoongi sighs. 

“Bye Yoongi. Speak soon.”

“Bye.”

You hang up, plastering on a fake look of happiness as you rejoin your friends. They seem convinced, apart from Seokjin. “Boyfriend troubles?” He asks, in a not so subtle attempt of inquiring information of your relationship status. Areum and Oli exchange a knowing glance. 

“No,” You reply with a shake of your head. “I don’t have a boyfriend. Just checking in with a friend back home.” 

“I see.” Seokjin side eyes you, a secret smile tugging at his lips. 

Strangely, Yoongi sleeps better knowing his mother is in the safety of the hospital. He spends the night alone, dad having long since fucked off somewhere. Yoongi doesn’t know where and more importantly, he doesn’t care. There’s peace in his home for the first time in forever.

His mind wanders to you. He hopes he hasn’t ruined your evening too much. From what you’ve shared through the phone college life is kicking off to a wonderful start. He wishes he could experience it too.

As you had anticipated, month two of college has your workload almost doubling. Thursday night dinners don’t happen weekly anymore, given how much time you spend studying just to keep up with the rest of your classmates. When you were in high school your natural ability allowed you to not just get by but succeed. 

To be struggling, this early on in college, feels embarrassing. 

You talk less frequently with Yoongi and your family. In fact you barely even see the people you live with. Seokjin, however you see often, given that he works in the library. The single downside to this means he’s the only one who knows your secret. That college is hard and you’re drowning a little.

Once again, it’s a friday night and you’re buried in a mountain of books, furiously taking notes. Your hand aches, you have eye strain and your stomach has been gurgling for the last hour and a half. The sound of the chair opposite you screeching along the marble floor forces you to lift your head. 

“You’re here more than I am.” It’s Seokjin, smiling at you as he plops down onto the chair. 

You sigh. “Yeah, we’ve got a huge essay due soon and I need to do well.”

“I can help you if you want. I’ve passed that course, remember?” He taps the side of his temple. “I’m as smart as I am handsome y/n.”

You can’t help but laugh as you roll your eyes. “I could use some help.” You begin timidly. “If you don’t mind! And you’re not busy. I know it’s Friday…”

“I’m happy to make time for you.” He smiles and you feel like a fool when it makes you blush. 

Seokjin spends a further hour in the library with you and your coursework. He helps you tweak the essay where it needs it, knowing exactly what the professors are looking for. By the time you’re almost done it feels as if a weight has been lifted from your shoulders. Your stomach embarrassingly gurgles again and that’s when he decides you’ve had enough for one night.

“Come on, we’re getting food.” He is so commanding you can’t help but go along with it. 

Both of your roommates are out for the night so heading to your place seems like the best idea, opting to pick up some food on the way. You’re so dead on your feet having Seokjin practically push and pull you around and then home is welcomed.

The shrill pitch of a telephone ringing welcomes you as you cross the threshold into your apartment. You dash for the phone leaving Seokjin to deal with the paper bag of take out food. “Hello?”

“Hey.” It’s Yoongi. “I’ve been calling you for ages, y/n. Where’ve you been?”

“I’ve been studying. I guess I lost track of time.”

“You said you’d call me at seven.” Yoongi sounds grumpy and defensive. You wonder what’s happened at home now.

“I’m sorry. School is kicking my ass Yoongi.”

“Then don’t tell me you’ll call me at seven if you’re busy.” He almost spits at you. Someone’s clearly in a bad mood tonight.

“I said I was sorry.” 

You watch Seokjin behind you as he dishes the food on plates for you both, politely pretending to not listen to your conversation. He has no choice, the phone is stuck to the wall, leaving you trapped there. 

Yoongi heaves a long sigh on the phone. “I’m just struggling a little too.” He admits, leaving you feeling instantly guilty. 

“How's your mom?”

“Not good, but not any worse.” 

“I know it’s hard without me and Hobi there, but christmas is soon and I’ll be home for nearly four weeks.” You remind him. 

“I can’t wait.”

Before you can reply Seokjin’s voice is tearing you away from the conversation. “Do you want to eat in your room or the couch?”

“Couch.” You reply, hand over the receiver in an attempt to mute your voice. 

“Who is that?” Yoongi's voice is terse.

“Just a friend staying for dinner.”

“It’s a guy.” Yoongi states.

“A friend.”

“You said you were studying.”

“I was.”

“It doesn’t sound like it. You’re ditching me for a college boy already and it’s only been a few weeks. Glad I’m so memorable to you.”

He hangs up and you stand there in shock, the sound of the dial tone echoing in your ear.

Yoongi slams the phone down, an action that is usually satisfying but does nothing for him in the moment. He squeezes his eyes shut and takes a few deep breaths, willing the anger he feels surging to subside. How could you move on so easily? He definitely had not imagined your feelings for him. So either he was stupid, or you had lied.

You’re hanging out with a guy who is comfortable enough to suggest being alone together in your bedroom and you have the audacity to claim he’s ‘just a friend’. He’s someone you clearly are overly familiar with. Yoongi scoffs out loud in sheer disbelief. 

He has to pull himself together. He can’t allow himself to get angry, not when his mom needs him. She still has a few more weeks of recovery and he’s been taking care of her best he can. An unfortunate and tragic upside to his mom’s injuries is that his dad has left her alone, leading to a relatively peaceful home life. Yoongi can’t be the one to destroy it now by letting his emotions get the better of him.

A few more deep breaths and he’s in a decent enough headspace to go check on his mom. Her painkillers are due soon, anyway. Yoongi retrieves a granola bar and some fruit so she isn’t taking them on an empty stomach. 

“Mom?” He knocks on the door to the spare bedroom, where she has been resting. The room was formerly Yoonseoks. In a bid to cling onto some hope of him returning, his mother has kept it intact. Yoongi knows his brother isn’t coming back. 

She makes a noise signalling he’s welcoming to come in. Because of her injuries she’s unable to talk well at the moment. 

“I brought you some painkillers.” He says gently, placing the items on the nightstand. She hums appreciatively. “I spoke to Dad.” He sighs, sitting on the edge of the bed. His mom nods, muting the TV she had been watching. “He’s staying with Uncle Jihoon tonight.”

His mom weakley reaches to squeeze his hand affectionately. He knows that means thank you. 

“The hospital called and confirmed your sick pay will extend.”He sighs, rubbing at his tired eyes roughly. “I said you were getting better and would be back as soon as you could.”

He stares at her for a few moments, wishing he had a normal life like you do. “I love you mom, I’m going to leave the door open if you need me.”

“I love you too.” She replies. It makes his chest squeeze knowing that she spoke, even though it pains her. Just to tell her son she loves him.

He nods curtly and leaves the room, ensuring the door is ajar. When he’s back in his own room he collapses on the bed exhausted. The last few weeks have been draining and his sleep is suffering. It’s restless, fraught with bad dreams. He sleeps much lighter, listening out for his mother. 

He wishes he didn’t resent you and Hobi so much for leaving him. He wishes his dad didn’t have anger issues and no self control. He wishes his mom was stronger and told his dad to get out a long time ago. More than anything, he wishes he had a normal life.

As ever you’re the nicer friend and you phone Yoongi to make up the next day. He feels like an asshole, knowing how much you hate conflict, but he misses your voice so much lately  that it’s enough to override his own dickery behaviour. As usual it  doesn’t take you long to have him smiling again. 

Before you part ways you tell him it’s only thirty three days until you’re home.  He promises to be there waiting for you at the train station the day you arrive. Something warm blooms in his chest and he realises it’s the first time he’s felt hopeful in weeks.

Seokjin insists on taking you out on the last night before winter break. Your complaints about the cold fall on deaf ears as he all but drags you from your apartment. He wraps his oversized red scarf around your neck throwing out a see? Now you have nothing to complain about. And he was right it felt nice., The cotton is warm against your skin and smells like Seokjin’s cologne. 

There’s a large christmas market close to campus in which he buys you some hot chocolate. It reminds you of the smaller one back home that you and Yoongi would frequent ever since you were old enough to understand the concept of the holidays. 

“Let’s go for a walk.” Seokjin suggests. “The Yanghwa bridge is pretty at night.”

There’s a comfortable silence between you as you stroll side by side. He spots you shivering and slips an arm across your shoulders, tugging you close to his side. His body heat is welcoming. You peer up at him to try and read his expression but he’s staring straight ahead, a wry smile playing on his lips. 

“I love Seoul.” You sigh happily. “I might actually miss it back at Daegu.”

“I wish I was going back to Daegu. My parents always go to Japan this time of year.” 

“You gonna send me a postcard from Japan?” You ask jokingly, nudging him slightly with your shoulder.

“Obviously. How are you going to go weeks without talking to me?” He grins. 

You shake your head with a laugh. He’s been such a welcome intrusion to your life lately a tiny, miniscule, barely there, part wonders the same.

Seokjin stops walking when you reach the middle of the bridge. The view combined with the lights is spectacular. You almost miss how he angles his body towards you until his hands are slipping around your waist and pulling you against his lean figure.

“Y/n, I really like you.” He says thickly.

You are almost unable to respond. You’re not stupid, he’s been dropping hints for months now but to actually hear the words leave his mouth is alarming. Your mind is racing a mile a minute, heartbeat increasing as you think of Yoongi. You shouldn’t be in this precarious situation, you’re not together but he’s yours - 

Seokjin completely disrupts your internal monologue by pressing his soft, plush lips against your own. He’s gentle, fearful as if you might completely reject him. When you don’t (to your own surprise) he presses his mouth against you a little harder. 

You don’t want to admit to yourself how good it feels. 

Seokjin’s large hands tug you somehow impossibly tighter against his body as he slips his tongue against your bottom lip, parting your mouth as he goes. It’s so different to Yoongi. It’s sweet. It’s new, uncharted terrority. Just as you begin to get into it and further deepen the kiss, his touch becomes infuriatingly tame.

He smirks at you when he finally pulls away. You can only imagine how dazed you look. 

“I- uh, what was that for?”

“You look cute in my scarf.” Is all he says, as if he didn’t have his tongue down your throat a moment ago. He laughs when your face twists with disbelief. 

“Seokjin, I’m not - I can’t. I shouldn’t be doing this..” You cringe at how embarrassing that sounds and how incoherent it is.

The confident exterior he brought with him tonight cracks just a little. “Why? You said you didn’t have a boyfriend.” He frowns.

“I don’t. But there’s someone. It’s really complicated. I’m sorry.”

“Ah,” He nods as he accepts the meaning of your words. “I see,” He sighs. “I’m not totally out of the running I hope?”

“I - “

“Look. Think about it over break. I like you. We have fun together! It would be nice to see where it could go.”

“Seokjin - “ You try once more. He shushes you with a smile. 

Despite the kiss the rest of the evening is nice. Thank god you don’t have to see him for a while though. 

The nearly four hour train ride back to Daegu leaves you with plenty of time to think. Too much time, as it turns out. As much as you attempt to bury yourself in the book and magazine you’ve brought to serve as distractions. 

Seokjin kissed you last night. Seokjin kissed you. Seokjin kissed you and you liked it.

You’re on your way to see a boy who you have admitted openly how you feel for him, a boy who has waited months for you and you spent your last moments away kissing someone else. Even though you and Yoongi aren’t official you still feel awful. And if you’re brutally honest with yourself it’s because you can envision dating Seokjin. One could argue you sort of are already. He’s definitely been courting you.

When you step onto the platform and observe Yoongi for the first time, your breath traps in your throat. He looks like a brooding artist standing there in his leather jacket and chuck taylors. Your walk turns into a half run in a bid to get to him as quickly as possible. 

He huffs an ‘oomf’ when you crash your body into his but hugs you so tightly that he sweeps you off your feet. 

Yoongi carries your suitcase to the car for you. Neither of you can wipe the lovesick smiles from your faces. He holds your hand across the console as he drives, occasionally rubbing his thumb on your palm. It’s so sickeningly domestic and you love it.

When you’re finally alone in your room his lips are on your neck before either of you have removed your outer clothing. He’s all kisses and whispered praise as he undresses you. You’re naked on your back for him as he licks your pussy and all you can manage to breathlessly gasp is “I fucking missed you.”

You come with his tongue buried inside you and his fingers tweaking your nipples. “I fucking missed you, my pretty girl.” He whispers, biting the shell of your ear. 

The weight of his heavy cock in your hand is familiar. A visible shudder runs through him at your touch. When you get on your knees for him an exhilarated sigh leaves his lips. “Gonna suck my dick huh?” He’s almost mumbling to himself. You answer him by taking his cock in your mouth. He groans like he’s never had his dick wet before. “Fuck,” spills from his mouth like a mantra. 

Before he has the chance to get carried away he’s fisting your hair and flipping you onto your front. Yoongi fucks you harshly from behind. The hand in your hair grasps at your scalp to leave your head permanently tilted back for him. He shoots his seed as deep inside of you as the angle allows. 

His heavy breath on your neck and sweat on your skin feels fucking fantastic. You could die right now, happy, satiated and stupidly in love with Min Yoongi.

Christmas Day had always been just another day in the Min household. He only became aware of how abnormal his family’s style was when he was barely a preteen and other kids at school would discuss the fantastical ways they spent their holidays. Even kids who didn’t celebrate the holiday seemed to enjoy it more. He didn’t particularly feel much about Christmas.

Until he met you. And your family welcomed him with open arms. A gesture which included inviting him over every single year. The invitation extended to his family but usually he attended solo (except for that one time Yoonseok joined and spitefully pushed your plate onto your lap). 

This year is no different. 

Your mom feeds him well. She’s kind to him, taking a keen interest in his life. Your father always asks about the one interest they have in common - basketball. It’s not much but Yoongi’s dad has never broached the subject. 

After dinner you suggest going for a walk, an idea with which Yoongi happily obliges. Unable to stop himself he’s lacing your hands together the moment you’re out of eyesight from your parents’ house. He kisses the back of your knuckles as he throws you a devilish grin. 

Naturally you gravitate towards the enormous Christmas tree and ice rink in the town center. It’s been a long standing tradition, however it feels far more romantic this time. It’s just the two of you and you’re holding hands, just like the other couples that frequent the area. The sparkling lights on the fir light up your eyes like stars.

Snow begins to fall as you come to a stop at the wooden railing that separates the tree from the public. Yoongi lifts the hood on your parka jacket up for you, kissing you on the cheek as he goes. It’s not even comparable for the amount you do for him but anything he can give you he will.

Adorably you nuzzle into him, resting your head on his chest. His arms automatically wrap around you and he lets out a breath of content. You probably won’t be able to stay out much longer given the rapidly declining temperature so he’ll enjoy this while he can. 

“Yoongi!” 

A voice startles him, calling out from somewhere in the distance. Yoongi’s head whips round to see Hoseok and Anni of all people. Without thought he quickly, albeit harshly, pushes you away from him, lest you get caught in such a compromising position. No one knows about you two and he’d like to keep it that way. He already knows you’re too good for him; he does not need others reinforcing it at every opportunity. 

Yoongi doesn’t think he’s made a mistake until he glimpses one look at your hurt, confused expression. 

“Hey guys.” Hobi greets you both warmly. Yoongi notices he’s holding hands with Anni. 

“Hey.” You reply. “Merry Christmas! It’s nice to see you both.”

“You too!” Anni replies warmly. “Did you have Christmas at the l/n house?”

“Yeah.” Yoongi mutters. “Just walking off the carbs.” 

“Hobi met my parents for the first time.” Anni’s expression is one of pure happiness and he can’t help but feel a little jealous. “We had dinner together too.”

“Aw, that’s lovely.” You say. Yoongi can tell you’re upset, your tone sounds forced. “I bet they adored you Hobi.”

“”Of course.” Hoseok flashes that winning smile. “When are you both free? We should go for dinner or something.”

“How about - “ Yoongi starts.

“I’m not sure, I’ve got lots of schoolwork.” You cut him off and he shuts up instantly. “I’ll phone you Anni and we can sort something out?”

“Sure.” Anni says slowly. “We’ll leave you guys. I want to go inside anyway because I'm cold. Hopefully see you soon!”

Anni gives you a warm hug while Yoongi hugs Hoseok. They both wave cheerfully as they leave. He watches their happy retreating forms until they disappear round a corner. When he faces you once more your body language has completely shifted. Arms folded across your chest, gaze turned downwards. 

He feels uncomfortable, he knows he hurt you but he’s not entirely sure how. Now it’s awkward. “Should we uh, walk some more?”

“Are you sure you want to be seen with me? You pushed me away from you so fast back there I almost fell over.” You mumble. 

“I didn’t mean to. Hobi and Anni don’t know about...anything.”

“So?” You finally look up to meet his eyeline. To his utter dismay your big eyes are glossy with unspilled tears. “Would it be so bad if they did?”

“Uh..I, um. I don’t know.” He trips over his wording like an idiot. The only reason he’s never breathed a word about your illicit activities to anyone is because he naturally assumed you didn’t want anyone to know. Yoongi wasn’t exactly the epitome of a model boyfriend.

“Why have you never asked me on a date? Why have you never asked me to be your girlfriend?” You demand and he panics. He doesn’t have an answer stronger than I don’t know and he’s confused as to why you’re so angry. He naively assumed what existed between you was enough. 

“Do you seriously think someone like me would make a good boyfriend?” He all but groans. You of all people should understand that fact. He’s never had a girlfriend. “I don’t do relationships.”

“Then why treat me like I’m yours? Why hold my hand? Why tell me you love me?!”

He doesn’t know what to say. He makes the fatal mistake of shrugging. 

You laugh mockingly. “Do you even love me? It feels like you’re just ashamed of me. Couldn’t even stand to touch me in front of your best friend. Just like that I let you have sex with me, I guess.”

“Y/n…” He starts. How is he even supposed to respond? This is all his fault. He’s only ashamed of himself, never you. “I can’t be what you need.”

An uncomfortable tightness constricts in his chest at the verbal admission. The sentiment has been lurking in the back of his mind since the moment he first started noticing you as more than just his friend. You deserve someone happy, stable, with a good background. Not the chaotic baggage he brings.

“You’re not allowed to have your cake and eat it too, Yoongi. That’s not fair.” You sniff as a lone tear escapes. “You can’t treat me this way, get jealous about dudes and then refuse to claim me.”

He had never even thought about it like that, unable to realise that’s what he had been doing to you.

“A guy at college kissed me, you know.” You blurt, heatedly.  His guilt quickly turns to shock and now Yoongi wants to throw up because you lied to him. You were off at college kissing people and then hopping back to him, the fool that waits for you no matter what.

“Is that so?” He mutters, hot anger bubbling in his chest. You nod staring at him fiercely. “I’ve met someone too.” It’s a lie. “I just respected you enough not to do anything.”

The entire atmosphere changes. You’re gawking at him as if he’s slapped you in the face.

“You've met someone?” 

He hums in agreement, terrified to commit even further to the lie. 

“Who?”

“No one that you know. But you’ve obviously met someone too, so it’s whatever.”

Mascara tears spill down your cheeks and it physically pains to witness. He turns his head to the side, unable to watch any further. He did this to you. 

“If it’s ‘whatever’ to you then maybe we shouldn’t do this - ” A sob chokes you mid sentence. “ - anymore.”

How is his Christmas day ending so spectacularly poorly? How is this his current reality? Yoongi’s brain and mouth stall, torn between the desire to rescue this horrific situation and hate you for kissing someone else. It simultaneously feels like a lifetime and a split second before you’re speaking, deciding for him.

“Nothing to say? Really?! Maybe I don’t know you so well after all,” the evident heartbreak in your voice makes his eyes burn. Now he really can’t bear to look directly at you. 

“You kissed someone.” He mumbles, weak and pathetic. “Maybe I don’t know you.”

“I’m leaving, don’t follow me.” 

He glances just in time to watch you walk away. “Fuck,” He groans a little too loudly, attracting the attention of a family nearby. Angrily he kicks a stone and clutches at his hair. He might be the biggest idiot alive. This is exactly why he could never be your boyfriend, he can’t handle anything.

Cold and numb, and not just from the weather, he reaches inside the breast pocket of his jacket and pulls out a cigarette. It’s a fairly new habit, so new you don’t even know about it yet, but fuck, does he need to take the edge off. 

You manage to escape your parents and disappear to the safety of your bedroom as soon as you arrive home. Aggressively you draw your curtains shut, a not so subtle message to Yooni. The implication is clear; you do not want to talk. You doubt he’ll be making an appearance tonight anyway. This was no regular arguement.

You recall that night you left for school, the night he told you he loved you. Technically he never said the words. You. knowing him for most of his life, had assumed he felt what you had. Perhaps you assumed incorrectly. Horrifically inaccurately. And now your heart is wilting in your ribcage. 

Stupid, lovesick, little girl.

The train ride back to Seoul is bordering on unbearably lonely, despite the carriage full of passengers. The days after Christmas that bled into New Years seem like a depressing blur that you don’t wish to recall but somehow can’t stop thinking about.

You haven’t heard from Yoongi since that horrible night. You wonder if someone else is occupying his time and that’s why he doesn’t wish to make amends. It’s always you extending the proverbial olive branch. You want him to want to do the same. Right now it looks like he doesn’t.

a/n: if this gave you a rollercoaster of emotions and made you feel sad, dw you’re not the only one, lol. each part is going to be about 20k so buckle up babies! (this story is still going thru editing so if u see mistakes IM SORRY) thank you as always for reading :)))))) P.S feedback makes me happy, lmk what u think! what u think might happen! if you want to slap me for writing so much angst lol! <3

masterlist

i don’t condone any copying or translations of my work. written 2020©

[greyfongschemmenti]

Do you have any theories/headcanons as to why Lin is so reserved with her emotions?

And do you have any theories/headcanons for the Kya's want to travel the world rather than settling somewhere?

-Y❤️❤️

I mean Lin is reserved with her emotions because everyone in her life has hurt her in some way shape or form. 

-/-

Kya is half air nomad. It’s in her blood. 

Toph:

Toph has never given her positive affirmation. Lin has been trying so hard to get some sort of praise from her and nothing. Toph never gave her attention and when it came time to have her back (when Suyin caused the scars) Toph basically betrayed her and covered for Suyin and made it all go away. Everything except the scars that will be permanently displayed on her cheeks. 

I want to head canon that maybe...just maybe Toph didn’t realize the extent of the damage Suyin had caused to Lin. Toph could have thought that Lin was over-exaggerating on the markings. Also think for that reason she didn’t let Lin get immediate treatment from a healer which was crucial for healing time and less scaring to occur. Only giving Lin time to just “slap a bandage on and toughen up.”

Suyin:

Suyin was a brat as a kid. She valued her freedom and because of that she legit thought she was invincible and could get away with anything because her mom practically owns the city. 

Suyin is the baby which frankly only further pushes the whole. Baby gets what she wants. Doesn’t apologize for any of her actions or thinks that a simple “sorry” erases everything. Lives in a “Me” world. 

Suyin get’s in trouble for driving as an accomplice. Suyin gets send to go live with her rich grandparents who will spoil her with immense gifts. While Lin just stays in the city and continues to groveling work. Forced to get used to the markings Suyin left which she never apologized to Lin for. 

Tenzin:

Tenzin left her. That’s the short version. 

Tenzin was her best friend turned romantic life partner. Lin knew Tenzin since she could sustain memories. Every life moment it was always her and Tenzin, they were only a year apart so they grew up together. Later started to date and they grew up being each other’s support systems. 

Although yes they did have love for each other, I feel like that love was always platonic. They confused that love for romance because everyone around them basically teased them of their hidden crushes. Once that idea gets put into your head it’s kind of hard to not think about it and your brain starts to be like “okay yeah maybe they are on to something”. I feel like it was more on Lin’s side than Tenzin. I think Tenzin for sure had a massive crush on Lin. 

back to the reason... Tenzin and Lin are both so career driven that they worked tirelessly to become someone their respectful parents would be proud of. Lin as a police officer and eventual Chief of Police and Tenzin being a councilman and representative for the Air Nation. 

Once Aang’s passing Tenzin got more pressed by himself (I’m sure from the rest of the world too) to start producing the next generation of air benders. Although I would like to believe that Tenzin respected and supported Lin’s wishes on her career goal. I feel like he wanted Lin to put a pause to help him carry his goal first. Which Lin was adamant on not doing. She never wanted kids and was never going to change. Tenzin probably hoped that after time Lin might change and in turn caused many fights and arguments. Tenzin hope he could have the best of both worlds, Lin and kids. unfortunately that wasn’t the case so after two decades of being with Lin he had to break up with her. 

Tenzin is such an awkward bean so when he broke up with Lin he definitely broke up. Like cut off all communication with Lin, because he probably thought that would be best for Lin. The only time they would talk would be professional meetings when they had to see each other for council meetings. Security and protection details for the Air Nation. They went from best friends and each others support systems to practical strangers. Which was honestly worse, imo. Lin didn’t just lose a boyfriend. She lost her person. The one person she could rely on for anything. The person who knew her likes and dislikes. The one person she wasn’t afraid to let down her walls, let down her hair and let it flow. The one person who wouldn’t judge her when she cried or laughed. So when Tenzin left, it broke Lin. More than anyone could it was Tenzin that really caused Lin to close up and say no more. 

-/-

Kya

Kya is half air nomad. 

Kya is a spiritual being and likes to live in harmony with nature. She's fun-loving and had a strong sense of humor. 

I feel like Kya often liked the idea of traveling the world to interact with other peoples and getting to know other cultures. Without the attachment of being the “Avatar’s daughter”. She wanted to be known as Kya and just Kya. 

Which she did accomplish as she became a renowned healer in her own right. All of her years of traveling I’m sure spent learning on different healing techniques and properties to improve on. Kya is easily the best healer in Legend of Korra, which I’m sure her mother is beyond proud. She managed to keep Jinora alive for weeks despite her spirit no longer being tethered to her body and was capable of treating Bumi's head wound without water ever touching him. She even managed to heal Korra, Bolin, and Mako simultaneously with her spirit water. Three people at. the. same. time!!! The only thing that ever posed too big an issue was the metallic poison in Korra in season 3. 

Kya is a person who would rather experience it rather than read about it or listen someone else share their life. She is open to listen to the stories but she wants to go out there and experience it herself. 

Kya doesn’t have a problem with settling. She can stay at a place for a couple months at a time. The most maybe a year because she gets the itch to go set off to a new adventure.