#this was actually supposed to be a fluffy lil imagine???

[pines4thetwin]

Thinking about sea grunks pre-stancest stuck together on that tiny boat tiptoeing around their feelings

Theyre just happy to have each other back and neither wants to mess this up but it feels like theyre walking on eggshells, trapped in a web of soft hesitant touches and half spoken words. Spun so tightly that a single step, a single breath could bring them to ruin.

And neither wants to be the one to sever them again. So they laugh and they argue and they explore the open seas but they dont dare talk about it.

Afterall, what if its just in their head?

[borathae]

The Consequences of Fucking Up

“Your break up was messy and painful. All you want to do is to forget about him. His friends, who ever since you ended it with Yoongi see you as their bullying target, make sure that the memory of him stays fresh in your mind however, haunting you day by fucking day. While Yoongi makes it seem as if he gives no fuck about your situation. Until one night he is in front of your door. Drunk and fucking regretful.”

♥️ Requested by anonie ♥️

Pairing: Gangster!Yoongi x f.Reader

Genre: Exes!AU, Messy Break-Up!AU, Crime!AU, Cop!AU, Hurt and Comfort, Angst, Smut, a lil bit of Fluff

Wordcount: 15.9k

Warnings: lowkey they're bad for each other, but also somehow so right?, OC is such a people hater, I feel like she has mental health issues which are never addressed tbfh, she is quite the pessimist, unhealthy consumption of alcohol, smoking of cigarettes & weed (listen. i hate smoking and stand by that but it sadly fits their characters), Yoongi is kinda apathetic and cold, or is he??, IS HE???, implied violence and murder, corrupt cops & lawyers, policeman!Jungkook makes an appearance and he stole my heart tbfh :(, he is so cute that i almost sobbed, drugdealer!Hoseok makes an appearance too, there is also detective!Namjoon and smuggler!Taehyung because I love this vibe :); abuse of power, fuck Yoongi just fuck he is so ngngn, slightly protective & possessive!Yoongi, intoxicated sex, desperate!Yoongi, no foreplay, but she is not uncomfortable, choking (m.receiving), rough desperate sex, position change from sex against a sofa to missionary on said sofa, a lil bit of strength kink hihi, he cums too soon, dirty talk, tears :'), he is actually so emotional during the sex, the ending is so cheesy and cute <3, Spoiler: he is willing to change!! and he is a cutie actually, jsjsjsj sorry but i love yoongi a lot :(

Disclaimer: This is purely fiction and isn't like my usual stories. It does not portray how the boys actually are and it is not how I see them. This is a work of fiction with no correlation to real life. The type of relationships depicted in this story are far from how I normally portray my relationships and I do not advertise for such relationhips or staying in such relationships. This story is supposed to be twisted and dark & so are the relationships in it, as well as the characters. You have been warned. If you decide to continue reading, then it is out of your own free will.

a/n: now that the disclaimer is out of the way i can officially bark because woof woof fuckkcc anonie thank you so much for this idea. i had the worst and best time writing this story like nfnfnf her mental state was definitely very difficult to write, but their tension just got to me. i made the ending as cute and fluffy as possible just as you wanted hihi <3 also i love villian characters who would set the whole world on fire just to prove their dedication :) i hope this is what you imagined, because i kinda made it longer and with more plot than i planned to at first sjjsjs i couldn't be stopped jsjsj ALSO this is giving me the perfect opportunity to finally write a Kook request I got years ago ohoho

Yoongi collides with the wall, feeling the cold nuzzle of the gun press against his chin. He drops the keys and flowers he was carrying, lifting his hands in defeat.

“Careful, it’s just me”, he lulls.

“Get the fuck out of my house”, you spit, carrying murder in your eyes. 

Three months prior

“So you’re breaking up with me?” he asks, gawking at you with widened eyes. He looks more surprised than he does hurt. Probably because it hasn’t actually sunk in yet.

“I am.”

“No, you’re not.” He laughs because he never takes anything seriously.

“Yes. I am.”

“Too bad, I won’t act like it.”

“Yeah, you will.”

He laughs, “you’ve had better jokes, but I still admire the commitment.”

“You see. That’s the problem with you. Everything’s a fucking joke to you.”

He is smiling. It reaches his eyes.

“Your job, your men. Me. Everything’s a fucking joke to you. If you would have taken Sukuna’s thread seriously, Soojin would still be alive. If you didn’t fucking insult Miss Mei, you wouldn’t have lost twenty thousand in drugs and you wouldn’t have to fucking kiss asses like a beggar.”

His smile doesn’t reach his eyes anymore.

“If you would have put any kind of effort into me, I wouldn’t be leaving now. You take everything as a joke, while in reality you are the biggest joke here.”

His smile falls. You stood up and that actually scared him. 

“Wait baby, wait. Princess, we can talk about this”, he argues, closing the distance with his arms stretched open. “I’ll fix the issue with Miss Mei, I promise.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m done talking. Soojin died because of your recklessness.” 

Yoongi touches your hands. He holds them, clutches them. You have never felt such a touch from him before. As if he actually loved you. 

“What can I do? Tell me and I’ll do it”, he offers, caressing your knuckles. 

This is what you craved for months. Affection. Attention. You were always a passing thought to him. Something to fuck and possess. Something low maintenance like all his other shit. His current touch almost makes you want to stay because for the briefest moment, your breaking heart wants to believe that he finally changed. 

But you know better. He doesn’t take you seriously and if you stay, you will one day end up like Soojin. Metaphorically or not, you will end up dead because of him. 

“There is nothing you can do. Sorry.”

You slip out of his touch.

“Baby”, Yoongi follows you with panicked eyes, trying to touch you again.

“Goodbye, Min Yoongi.”

“Please don’t leave me.”

You close the door and run, finally letting the tears escape. 

You love him.

You always have and perhaps always will. 

You don’t want to leave, but know that staying will kill you. 

One week passes. You spent it holed up in your small, shitty apartment, crying your heart out. Yoongi was the best and worst thing that ever happened to you and you miss him. You hate that you miss him. Because he was way worse than he was good. 

He was never abusive. He was a violent man to anyone but you. You, he always touched with utmost care. At you, he never screamed. But he was still not good. He was cold and apathetic at times, then terribly affectionate at others, only to become cold again. And you couldn’t take it anymore. 

You wouldn’t have left your apartment today if your fridge hadn’t been empty. It wasn’t always empty, but sadly enough, groceries don’t magically appear. Not even for an outlaw such as yourself.

The city is busy. The smell of street food, smog and body odor poisons the air. The weather is hot these days and people started sweating more. You can’t stand people. You pull the mask tighter around your nose, hoping to shield the stench this way. 

You greet the clerk when you enter the shop, lowering your mask. It smells of grocery store in here. Fresh bread, produce and clean floors. It’s a welcome change to the rancid outside.

You spent fourty minutes in the shop and pay with cash. You never pay with card because it can be traced. Someone like you can’t risk being found. 

“See you”, you say your goodbyes and leave the store. You plan on coming back in three weeks. You can’t stand being outside often.

The door just about closed behind you and then someone jumps you. Three people to be more exact. Two hold your arms while one rips the bags out of your hands. 

“Let go! Hey, you fuckers!” you fight them off instantly, surprised at how easily it is to do. Way too easy. They let go of you as quickly as they grabbed you. At first you think that nothing happened, until you notice your grocery bags in one of the guys’ hands. They stole your stuff!

“You motherfuckers! Get back here! They’re mine!” 

They run away, flipping you off over their shoulders.

You sprint after them, but before you reach them, they jump onto a tuk tuk and drive off, finally showing you their faces. Those were some of Yoongi’s underlings.

“What the fuck?” You stumble back in disbelief. “Did they fucking steal my food? What the fuck’s happening?” 

It takes you a while before you finally come to the conclusion that you have to buy everything they stole a second time. And you do. And nobody jumps you. And you go home, make yourself shitty dinner and drink a bottle of soju all by yourself. It isn’t a good night. It’s a shit night. But then. All your nights have been shit for years.

You met Yoongi four years ago. It correlates with when your shit nights began. Okay, you are being unfair. The first two years with him were paradise and your nights were wonderful. You were an aspiring lawyer, while he was in the midst of getting a promotion to superintendent.  You supported each other’s dreams, motivated each other and celebrated when your goals were achieved. Then the truth spilled out. The man you knew to love turned out to be a lie. Why you never left, you do not know. He gave you the chance to leave, but you didn’t. You made yourself low maintenance to him and your nights became shit. He pretended to be a proper policeman by day while you pretended to be a proper lawyer and at night he became what he hunted by day while you tried to hide whatever evidence about him flooded into the offices. You hated it at first, then loved it, then lost your job because of it and became dependent on him and started to hate it again. Well, at least working for him. You liked everything else. Having to work in the system and seeing how corrupt even the most eligible politicians or CEOs truly are, made you realise that perhaps stealing from them isn’t as bad as it first sounded. You liked being on the dark side of the law because the bright side was just as twisted. You just simply started to hate that it means being close to Yoongi.

It took Soojin’s death to finally make you realise that staying with him will end in your death as well. And so you finally left.

You will start a new life, make up a new identity, move to a different country and forget about him. Maybe. Who knows. You haven’t decided yet.

A letter comes five days after the grocery store incident. It is stuffed into an unsealed envelope and clearly delivered by the person who wrote it. You open it, feeling shit instantly. Whoever wrote this letter is calling you the most hurtful of names, telling you personal stuff which truly hurts. You throw it away and go back inside, opening a bottle of soju. It wasn’t Yoongi’s handwriting, but somehow you still think that it is connected to him. You try not to let it get to you, but you still end up rotting away in your bed for the rest of the week only leaving it to piss, shit and eat. 

The next week your packages are missing. You never get them back. The culprit is never found. You curse the sky, knowing that it was fruitless. Yet again, you think that it was connected to him. To Yoongi, the man you wanted to forget, but who keeps haunting you day by day.

The city at night is a dangerous place. If you don’t know where to walk, you could find yourself in a rather messy situation. Especially as a woman. You are glad that most women are clever enough to stay at home once darkness greets the streets. Most women don’t know how to defend themselves though. Properly and without the law in mind. You killed before. Once. It was self defence. Yoongi took care of the body, you never found out what happened to it. He stayed with you the night it happened, even let you cry in his arms. He was gone the next day and never spoke of it again.

You clutch the big knife tightly in your bag, scanning the streets constantly. It isn’t far anymore until you are home. Hopefully the heavy rain clouds stay dry until you get there. You aren’t in the mood to get wet. Not tonight. You would have never left if you hadn’t ran out of fucking cigarettes. The kiosk was closed, so the journey was useless. Thunder announces that the clouds aren’t your friends. Mere seconds later, it starts pouring.

“Fucking shit, I hate this city.”

Rain in this city is always dirty and never really cold. You take it as a bad sign. Rain shouldn’t be warm. Not always, not constantly. Something’s wrong with this city. Something is rotting slowly until one day it will consume everything in its wake. You hope to have left before it can wake up.

The way home is too long for the amount of dirty rain it pours. You find refuge under a shop sign. There are no rooftops or canopies in sight and the only thing close to a safe place was the stupid restaurant sign. Authentic Asian Beef Noodles, it reads in bright red letters. The place is stuffed with people and the smell of beef broth mixes with the dirty scent of rain. You grind your teeth. What a shitty situation you find yourself in. You prefer being outside though. You know that once inside, the restaurant would be hot and stink of digested booze and body odor. You take getting wet over breathing in people’s air.

Except that you don’t really stay wet for long. The distinct sound of rain hitting an umbrella meets your ears. You look up. Black. You look to the side at the person holding it. Yoongi. Your stomach twists, your heart skips a beat. He is wearing a suit tonight. Black with a black tie. His hair is slicked back. He used makeup to  conceal the scar running all the way from his forehead over his eye and down half his cheek. This is his work outfit. His police chief outfit. Yes. He is a chief these days.

Your instincts tell you to leave without saying anything, but it’s been six weeks since the breakup and you still love him. You hate that you do, but can’t stop staring at his face. He has his brows raised in a nonchalant way as he inspects the heavy rain. He doesn’t grant you eye contact, but holds the umbrella in a way which lets you know that he came out here after seeing you. His left shoulder is getting wet, while you stay dry completely.

“What are you doing here?” you hear yourself ask him.

“Work dinner. I have to pay ‘cause I’m the boss and all that shit. They’re eating like greedy pigs”, he scoffs, “fucking assholes.”

“I see.”

“You?” 

“Buying smokes.”

He finally looks at you, studying from head to toe.

“The kiosk was closed”, you answer his question about your cigarettes’ whereabouts before he can ask it.

“I thought you quit.”

“Some things happened which made me start again.”

“Mhm”, he hums and takes out a packet of cigarettes from the inside of his suit jacket. He lights himself one and puts the packet away again, leaving you to stare at the smoke he blows out through his nose.

He isn’t actually serious, is he? It is like he is mocking you. It is already bad enough that he sends his stupid goons to terrorise you, now he is mocking you as well? You hate that you still love him.

You stay like this for a while. You staring at him while he holds the umbrella for you and smokes. You don’t know why you stay. You hate that you love him. You hate it so much.

Yoongi takes a long drag of the cigarette and exhales the smoke in an almost sigh-like breath. He lifts the cigarette, holding it closer to you.

“What?” you sound disbelieved, scandalised even.

He doesn’t say anything. He just shows you the cigarette as his eyes follow the endless rain. You hate that you love him. You hate it so much. But you still take the cigarette and put your lips right where he had his’ moments before. But you still smoke it as if it was the most normal thing to do. Because it once was. You and he shared many smokes in the past. It was once the most sensual, erotic thing to do between you and him. Barely clothed, intoxicated minds and high on the other, you often shared a joint as you got each other off. Fuck, it was always so fucking orgasmic to be with him that way.

“Wanna grab a bite?” he offers, pointing at the restaurant behind him, “one more mouth to feed isn’t gonna ruin me.”

You are hungry. You haven’t had a proper meal in weeks. Instant ramen, frozen food and snacks is all your body has to run on. You have no energy to cook and with how shitty you eat, it is a vicious cycle. Shitty food gives little energy, you already have low energy. The motivation to properly cook grows lower and lower each day. You dread the day you have only enough energy left to open a package of chips and eat it for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

“I’m not hungry.”

He glances at you. He knows that you are lying. Your eyes have greyed in starvation. He almost rips the cigarette out of your fingers and smokes it angrily, huffing out the smoke. 

“I’m offering”, he hisses.

“And I’m declining. I can take care of myself”, you throw back and rip the cigarette from his grasp to smoke it angrily. 

You may be starving, but you will be damned if you make yourself dependent on him again. You left him to finally prove to yourself that you can take care of yourself. You don’t need his help. Not anymore. 

You take another deep drag, then hand the cigarette to him. He smokes it, glaring at you. You know that your stubbornness angers him.

“Tell your men to stop pestering me”, you say into the tense silence. 

He looks over his shoulder at his police team. They are too drunk and caught in conversation to pay their boss any mind.

“They’re inside”, he says.

“You know I don’t mean them. Tell your other men to stop annoying me.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Yes. You do.” It is your turn to smoke. “It all started when they stole my groceries, but it’s been getting childish. My packages keep getting stolen, my internet cuts off, I find letters in my mail. Letters saying awful things about me. It’s getting ridiculous. Tell your men to stop terrorising me.”

“Stolen packages?” He takes the cigarette from you, brushing his fingers against yours as he does. The touch feels like the sweetest poison on your skin. “This doesn’t sound like my problem to solve. Go to the police.”

“Are you serious?” 

He inhales, exhales the smoke into your face. You should be disgusted by it, but almost huff it in like an addict. Yoongi watches your lids lower and your chest raise in a greedy breath, finding it hard not to stare at your lips as he hands you the cigarette. You smoke it. His eyes are still on your lips, glued to the shape of them as his throat runs dry.

“Very serious”, he rasps.

“You are the police”, you throw back in disbelief, exhaling the smoke into his face that way.

“Mhm yeah, I guess I am.” He takes the cigarette, smoking it with half lidded eyes. He exhales, handing you the cigarette. “When are you going to come home again?” he asks, looking back at the rain.

You almost choke on the smoke, exhaling it in a cough. Yoongi glances at you from the corner of his eyes.

“Your farce is getting ridiculous”, he says coldly.

“My farce?”

This break up wasn’t the first break up you and he went through. You left many times before, always thinking that you were finally strong enough to forget him only to come crawling back again. You don’t blame him for doubting that this time will be different, but you still can’t stop yourself from getting angry.

“Did you even hear what I said?”

“I did. Go to the police. I have nothing to do with it.”

You drop the half-finished cigarette. It dies in the puddle on the ground.

“I was smoking this”, he says dryly, “besides, don’t litter.”

“Pick it up yourself if you care so much about these dirty ass streets”, you spit and turn to leave. You take getting wet over being with him any longer.

Yoongi watches you leave, shakes his head in disbelief and bends down to pick up the cigarette. He won’t run after you because you will come crawling back eventually. You always do.

“Sir?” 

He turns his head. One of his officers. He is young and with sparkles of big dreams in his eyes. Yoongi pities him. This city is going to chew him up until there is nothing left of him. He had the same dreams once and knows what the viper nest, which is the justice system, is going to do to him. 

“What do you want?” he asks him dryly, rolling the wet cigarette between his fingers.

“Who did you talk to right now?”

“Just someone important to me.”

“Shouldn’t we escort her home? It’s raining and there could be criminals on the streets. It’s too dangerous for a woman to be alone.”

“She’ll get home safely.”

“Are you sure, Sir? I stayed sober for cases like these. I could get the car right away.”

“You’re sober?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“But it’s a work dinner. You’ve been off work for hours.”

The young officer salutes, “I know, Sir but a policeman shouldn’t slack, Sir.”

Yoongi feels deep pity for the young man. He is so motivated, so proper and full of good spirit. Waking up is going to hurt like a bitch for him.

He pats him on the shoulder.

“You’re a good person, Jeon”, he says and swerves past him to get back inside. 

The young officer follows him with pride glimmering in his innocent eyes. Yes, waking up is going to hurt like a bitch for him. 

Yoongi wasn’t always living two lives. He was like his young officer once. Full of dreams and motivation. He dreamed of using his powers to do good, to help those who needed it most and then he woke up. He watched politicians and men in power ruin, rape and kill the powerless without ever getting punished for it. He felt helpless. If even someone in his position can’t change the world, then who will? His criminal work was honourable once. He slipped evidence money under the table to hand out to the powerless, he let proof disappear for people doing crimes out of desperation. One time he was supposed to put a starving mother behind bars because she stole diapers for her babies. Yoongi couldn’t do it and so he disobeyed the law for these kinds of people.

But then his criminal work became less about the powerless and more about him. Making money the illegal way was easy and it is fucking addicting. Especially when he could make sure that evidence about him never reached the higher ups. Yoongi fucking loved the sudden power he possessed and he was too blinded by it to see that he became exactly what drove him to criminality in the first place.

Yoongi tells his officer to check up on your place that night. The young officer rings the doorbell like he was told to do.

You open it, swaying from intoxication as you do. The stench of digested booze wafts off you. But you somehow seem to sober up when you see the police badges on his shirt.

“You’ve got the wrong person”, you tell him, trying to morph your face into an expression of sobriety.

“Don’t worry, Miss. I came here to check on you.”

“Check on me?”

“Yes, Miss.” He salutes you. “I have orders from my captain to make sure that you arrived home safely and that you received this”, he says with an innocent smile on his lips, presenting a plastic bag to you. 

Authentic Asian Beef Noodles, it reads in red letters and inside, three big takeout containers of food are waiting to be eaten. 

Everything clicks into place. This is one of Yoongi’s employees. Another young, hopeful spirit which will be crushed in the system. You pity the young officer. You had the same innocent sparkle in your eyes once.

Hesitantly, you accept the takeout food.

“Thanks”, you mumble.

“Any time, Miss.” He studies you for a moment. “Are you…are you okay, Miss?”

You bite back tears. His empathy is going to kill him one day. But it feels so good to receive. You haven’t been asked this question in so long.

You shake your head. He straightens up in worry. 

“Should I call help for you, Miss?”

You know what he indicates.

“Thank you, no. I’m just going through some shit. Sorry, I’m being sappy tonight.”

“You don’t have to go through it alone, Miss.”

“I know. I’m just… I’m seriously alright, I won’t do anything stupid. You don’t have to worry, officer.” 

“Yes, well I still see it as my duty to stay because you seem sad to me”, he says and tries to go inside your apartment. He still has a lot to learn. You know from his eyes that he has no bad intentions and that he truly wants to help, but you know how the city will treat such deeds. One day he will try to help the wrong person and end up with attempted sexual assault charges. And it will fucking destroy him because people like him only see the good in the world and can’t imagine that others would want to hurt people.

You stop him with a guiding hand on his chest.

“That isn’t necessary, really. My packages keep getting stolen and I guess it’s been annoying me.”

He pulls out a pen paper instantly, stepping closer to you without noticing, “your packages? Have you seen anyone suspicious? How many packages have gone missing? When did it start?”

“No, I… Thank you for your concern and the food, but I will get through the night safely.”

He steps back, cheeks reddened in embarrassment.

“Forgive me, I don’t know why I did that. My captain said that you were important to him and that I should make sure that you are well, so I wanted to do a good job at it.” He bows at you deeply. “Please forgive me, Miss.” 

“He said that?” you whisper.

He nods his head, “yes, Miss.”

“Oh. Uhm. ” You clear your throat. “Thank you, I, uhm, tell him that I’m good.” 

“I will, Miss. Here, my card. You can always call me when you need something” he hesitates, “or when you just need someone to talk to.” 

“Thank you. This is so kind.”

“You are never alone, Miss.”

“Thank you”, you say, bowing at him. He is so kind. God, you want to grab him and tell him to run before it’s too late.

He bows as well, “good night, Miss.”

“Good night.”

You watch him leave. He gives you one last look out of the police car and a kind wave, then drives off. 

You close the door with a curse. This just sobered you up. The young policeman’s kindness just sobered you up. You check his name on the card he handed you. Jeon Jungkook. Why someone like him? He never should have found his way into this field of work. 

You look at the takeout food next, feeling your stomach twist. You are important to Yoongi. Holy fuck.

It’s been eight weeks since you left him. You don’t feel better. The cigarette you shared was two weeks ago and yet you still feel as if it was sticking to your lungs. Each time you breathe out, you swear you can taste him. It almost suffocates you and keeps you from relaxing. So you leave your depressing place for a walk to the kiosk. You read somewhere that walks are good for one’s mental health. You can’t agree. Walks force you to be outside where people are loud and fucking stink.

The vendor must be fucking with you. The day is bright, but the kiosk is closed again. You bang your fist against the closed door, cursing loudly. You want your fucking smokes is that too much to ask? This city is fucking shit.

You’ll just call someone who will always help. You saved him as Jay. His real name is Hoseok. You don’t say his real name in public. He doesn’t say yours. Yoongi sometimes called him his best friend, but what is such a title out of the mouth of the most apathetic man you know? You were his girlfriend too and look at where this has gotten you, living as an outlaw in the shit and dirt of this city.

Like always, Hoseok lets the phone ring four times then he picks up.

“Flames are hot”, he says.

“And the arsonist works hard”, you answer him.

“Hyacinth, it’s good to hear your voice”, there is finally a smile in his voice now that you answered the code correctly.

“The same goes for you, Jay.”

“What’s up? I haven’t heard from you in ages.”

“Nothing much. I’m out of smokes.”

“The corner in twenty?”

“Yeah.”

You and he end the call at the same time. Twenty minutes later you meet. He wears black overalls and smudged eyeliner. He says it keeps the char easier to hide. Like always, he greets you with a quick hug.

“What do you got?” you ask him.

“Whatever you want.” He opens his bag. “I’ve got cigarettes, but something stronger too”, he says, scurrying around the contents of the bag with his fingers. He always has burn marks on them, but somehow they are never dirty.

“What do fifty bucks buy?”

“For you? Two packs of cigarettes and two joints. That’s a steal.”

“Fuck dude, you’re getting expensive.”

“Yeah well, a man’s gotta eat.”

“Fine, I’ll take it.”

You and he exchange goods. He makes small talk.

“But why are you here with me? Did Suga run out of goods?”

Suga is Yoongi’s codename in public. The sound of it almost brings bile into your throat. You did such a good job in forgetting him and now the memory of him is as fresh as a new day. At least you like to pretend that you are doing a good job at forgetting him. Your heart knows better though.

“We, uhm…”

Hoseok exhales sharply, “again?”

You nod your head.

“When?”

“More than two months ago.”

“Damn, that’s long.”

“Yeah, I’m serious about it.”

He cocks his brow up.

“I am”, you insist just a little snappishly.

“Alright”, he closes his bag, “I gotta go now.”

“Already?”

He looks around nervously. Almost as if he didn’t want to be seen with you.

“Yup. Use the stuff wisely, I won’t have new stuff for a while.”

“Seriously?”

He nods his head and salutes you nonchalantly.

“See you around.”

“See…you?”

He turns his back to you and walks off quickly, soon disappearing into the busy crowd. Is this your fate? Even the people closest to you avoid you now that you aren’t Yoongi’s anymore? Were you truly only worth something as his little thing? You ball your hands into fists, bending the joints this way. You have to leave this fucking place. There is actually nothing holding you here anymore.

That night the phone terror starts. Numbers keep calling you over and over and over again. You pick up the first time, only to have to listen to the most hurtful things another human has ever said to you. The voice wasn’t Yoongi’s, but you still blame him. Now that you aren’t his thing anymore, you became free food to whoever had been waiting to make your life a living hell. You turn off your phone after an hour and go to sleep with the help of Hoseok’s joints.

The doorbell wakes you the next morning. You consider not answering because it’s probably just one of his goons wanting to terrorise you. But whoever is ringing the doorbell is stubborn, forcing you out of your bedroom. You look through the door cam first.

That young officer. He is in full uniform.

You open the door hesitantly.

“Good morning”, he greets you with a wave and a smile.

“Good morning”, you murmur. Your mouth is as dry as a fucking desert. You are also so hungry that you could throw up in his face right now.

“How are you feeling, Miss?”

“Good.”

“That’s good to hear.” He says and shows you a package which he kept hidden behind his back all this time. He smiles brightly and proudly. “Tada!”

“What’s that?”

“I caught the package thief, Miss.”

“Are you serious?” you gasp and your eyes instinctively drift to the car you have noticed parked outside your unit for days. The door is opened and someone is sitting in the backseat. He looked cuffed to the seat. You glance at the young officer and the shiteating, proud grin he is sporting. He has been watching you? Did Yoongi tell him to?

“Wait. You’re actually serious.”

“Very serious. For you, Miss”, he says and shoves the package into your face.

“Uhm, uh. Thanks”, you accept it, putting it under your arm. “Have you been watching me?”

“Did you notice the car? Sorry, I thought that I was better hidden. I’m still new to all of this. But I caught the thief, heh.” He points at himself with his thumbs. “That’s my first real arrest.”

He manages to drag an honest smile to your lips. He is kind of adorable in a way.

“That’s cool. Thank you for taking care of it. Now I’ve got nothing to worry about anymore.”

He grins and nods his head, studying your features afterwards. He opens his mouth.

“Jeon are you there? Over”, his walkie talkie interrupts whatever he wanted to ask you. He takes it off his chest harness.

“I’m here, Kim Sir. Over.”

“Come to the precinct. We need reinforcements. Over.”

“Coming right away, Sir. I caught a thief right now, Sir. Over.”

A pause where the higher officer is definitely baffled by his confession.

“Good job, Jeon. Over.”

The young officer giggles before he speaks again, doing so as seriously as possible.

“Thank you, Kim Sir. I am taking the criminal to the precinct. Over.”

“Understood. Over.”

He puts the walkie talkie back on its harness and gives you a sorry smile.

“That was my boss. My other boss, not your friend who is the boss of this boss. Anyways. I have to go now, duty calls. Are you going to be okay, Miss?”

“I am. Thank you for your kindness.”

“Anytime, Miss. Uhm, have a good day”, he says and leaves with a wave of his hand. He waves again as he drives off. You retort it, staring at his car until it disappears behind a corner. You sigh deeply. He is so nice. Why someone like him? Why does this life always find people like him?

It’s been ten weeks since you left him. You read somewhere that walks are good for your mental health. You still can’t agree. Walks force you to be outside where people are still loud and still fucking stink. But it’s better than staying in your apartment. You’ve got new neighbours since Monday. They keep fucking like actual animals. They fucked when you left your place tonight. You were this close to kicking their door in and slaughtering them like pigs. You opted for a walk in the end.

You walk for a while then sit down by an empty bench next to the river. It is quiet. Nobody is really here. At least nobody important. A couple, how disgusting. A late night jogger, clearly a man. A homeless person, who uses another bench as their bed. You hate looking at homeless people because you feel helpless seeing them. You stopped being on the bright side of the law because of people like them. You thought that maybe if you stole from the corrupt men in power often enough, you would be able to help the ones who truly needed it. But you never managed to actually achieve anything. The homelessness in the city grows, while the pockets of the politicians become fatter and fatter in wealth. You fucking hate this city. It is rotten to the core.

“Look who we have here. If that isn’t our pretty little Hyacinth.”

You aren’t quick enough to get up to leave and then you already have two men throwing their arms over your shoulders while a third is grabbing the back of your head from behind. You try to reach for your knife but can’t. Their grip on you is too good.

“What are you doing here all alone?”

Their voices are familiar and one look at them confirms your suspicions. It’s them. The same three underlings who stole your groceries months ago.

“Leave me alone”, you tell them.

“Why should we? You are all alone. If the boss knew we’re leaving you alone, he’d grow angry.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Now, now don’t be like that. You’re just a girl and there are many dangerous men out there.”

You look to your side. One of them is licking their lips like a hungry animal.

“Yeah? And you’re being fucking inappropriate. Leave me alone”, you spit, shaking off their arms.

They let you. Just as they let you stand up and take your bag.

“Goodnight”, you tell them and leave. Quickly. You walk a good hundred feet until you finally dare to look over your shoulder only to realise in horror that they are following you. Quickly.

You can defend yourself. You know how to kill, but you also know when you are outnumbered. And three bigger men against a woman is sadly never going to end well for the woman. You hate this city and you hate this life. You know that their words were nothing but provocation. They know you aren’t with Yoongi anymore, that you aren’t under his protection anymore and that in some weird way, you sullied his honour. You also know how people who bring dishonour to the gangs of this city are punished. The men are murdered and the women, well, they are murdered too but not before being sullied themselves. You hate this city and you hate this life. This life which is going to fucking end for you soon.

You dare to look over your shoulder one more time. They are so close that you can see the hunger in their eyes. No. Nononononono. It can’t end like this. You were supposed to leave this city, start a new life, forget about Yoongi. You are not going to die here in this dirty, shitty park far away from your dream.

Thump.

You bounce back from the impact, letting out a blood curling scream. It was instinct. Just as it is instinct of the person you ran into to grasp you by your arms and pull you closer again.

“Let me go! Help! Help me!”

“Quiet”, the person hisses and shakes you. This voice sounded different. Familiar in an almost intimate way.

You dare to shift your eyes to them.

Yoongi.

“I, I, I”, you stutter, feeling delirious in both fear and shock. You grab his shirt, twisting it to get closer to him. The act is intimate and out-of-place but you are too frightened to think clearly. 

Yoongi brushes over the state of your glassy eyes to look over your shoulder. There are three men suddenly scurrying away, using the darkness to hide. He managed to get their faces.

He looks back at you. Your eyes meet. A little bit of clarity returns to you. What are you doing? Your fingers soften around his shirt. 

“I don’t…”

“Come on, we’re going home”, he say sternly and puts an arm around your waist, dragging you with him like this.

You follow him all the way to his car. You even let him sit you down on the passenger seat and you even stay seated when he rounds the car to get to the driver side. You think that you are in shock because you don’t protest when he starts the car, nor when he drives off. You simply stare outside with your knees turned to him because your body acts against your consciousness. The city passes you by in flashes of neon colours. His car smells like his cologne and leather. He has no music playing. 

Yoongi glances at your face. You have your head against the window, squeezing your hands between your thighs. The neon lights illuminate your features each time he passes by another light source. He can see that you are trying not to shake.

He takes a deep breath, shifting his eyes to the road. He has to grip the steering wheel, otherwise his hands would shake in anger.

“Should we get dinner?”

His voice rips you from whatever trance you were in. You sit up straight, looking at him. He is gripping the steering wheel to the point his knuckles pale. His long hair is hanging into his face tonight. A turquoise varsity jacket adorns him. His scar wasn’t hidden behind concealer. He wasn’t working his day job today. What was he doing at the park? Why was he there?

“Take me home”, you order him.

“I am.”

“No. Home. Not your place.”

“My place is your home”, he gets out through gritted teeth.

“No, it isn’t. Not anymore.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Did you see what they were doing to me?”

“No.”

You are lost for words for a moment. The tears come afterwards.

“Stop the car.”

Yoongi looks at you because your voice was shaking. He holds his breath at the sight of your tears.

“What?” he makes sure.

“Stop. The. Car. Now.”

He laughs and shakes his head.

You pull the knife out on him. He swerves to the side on instinct, fixing the mistake so vigorously, you and he shake in the small space. You don’t let it affect you, holding the knife against his skin.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he hisses.

“Stop the fucking car or I’ll kill us both”, you spit, holding the knife against his throat.

“Fuck”, he growls and hits the steering wheel. The car rolls to a stop.

“Get out”, you threaten.

“I am. Fuck.”

He follows your orders because you have his life at blade’s end. He still slams the door closed. You leave the car instantly.

“What the fuck were you thinking? You could have killed us both” he tries to scold you, but you silence him.

“I’m talking now”, you roar.

Yoongi closes his mouth because he has never heard you like this before.

“You are such an asshole! Each day I regret the moment I met you! You are the worst thing that ever happened to me!”

Yoongi gulps. 

“I had a life before you. I had dreams and ambitions and, and goals and…a chance. I could have had a good life. I was supposed to use my degree to help people but you ruined everything for me.”

He rounds the car in big steps, coming so close to you that you smell his breath. It smells like chewing gum. 

“You could have achieved something? What exactly did you achieve as a lawyer? Mhm, what did you achieve? This city is fucked.”

“Yes, because you fucked it!” you hit his chest. He doesn’t budge, but also doesn’t stop you. “You fucked it and you fucked me and I hate you for it!”

“Don’t blame me for your decisions. I gave you a chance to leave me back then. You were the one who stayed.”

You inch closer until your lips are almost touching. Yoongi exhales shakily, placing his hand on your hip. 

“And I will regret this decision till the day I die”, you whisper, breaking the closeness.

You slip out of his hold. He follows you in a small stumble and a trembling gasp. 

“I never want to see you again. Are we clear?” you hiss at him.

“Don’t be fucking ridiculous, you don’t want this”, he hisses back at you.

“You’re wrong, I don’t want you. I thought I still did, but I don’t. You don’t care about me, it’s finally so fucking obvious to me. You don’t fucking care.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“They are terrorising me, Yoongi!” You finally scream. “I wake up to people ringing my doorbell in the middle of the night, I have to keep my phone turned off because the phone calls don’t stop. I keep getting my stuff stolen and, and I thought I was going to be raped tonight! They are terrorising me and you called it not your problem!”

“No, you-”

“I’ve been living in constant fear, our friends don’t even look at me anymore, I haven’t eaten in days and I can’t-”, you stop yourself. He doesn’t even deserve your anger anymore. “-you know what? Fuck this and fuck you. I’m leaving.”

You turn your back to him and leave. 

He says your name and takes your hand. He pulls, tries to turn you to him. But you rip yourself free again.

“Don’t go”, he says.

You don’t listen.

“I’m ordering you to stay”, he sounds desperate, yelling your name, “I am ordering you!” 

He can yell as much as he wants to. You don’t listen to him anymore. The subway station isn’t far. You will make an exception and take it tonight. Even if you hate it. It stinks. Just like the rest of this shitty city.

You are going to leave. Once you are home, you are going to start packing and then you are going to leave. You will call V. You don’t know his real name, but he can change your identity as quickly as others change their socks. You will call V and tell him to have your passport ready the day after tomorrow. You will pay him with the money you have under your pillow and then leave for somewhere clean. Maybe somewhere with lots of mountains. You always heard that the air at these places is breathable.

You call V the same night. He tells you that two days is too short and to wait another week. So you wait. Your bags have been packed. You live out of them in your own place. You don’t leave it. You are scared. With how little Yoongi cared about your situation, you doubt that he told his men to stop. You are scared that if you left again, they would finally go through with what they couldn’t finish back then.

The doorbell rings during a rainy, dark night. You flinch awake to the point where you feel sick to the stomach. The lights are turned on instantly eventhough you know not to do that in such a situation. You can’t think clearly. You just want this to be over. All of it.

You run to the front door because you suddenly feared that it was unlocked. It isn’t, but you can watch someone push an envelope under your door. The shadow blocking the light outside leaves the moment the letter is inside your apartment.

You don’t want to open it at first, staring at it as if someone had planted a bomb in your apartment. Fuck it, if that is how you die then so be it, you think in the end and bend down to pick it up. It feels different in your fingers. Sophisticated. Intimate. The envelope is glued closed as if someone licked the glue stripe and the faint smell of well-known cologne lingers on the paper. You open it with shaky fingers.

A letter. It is heavy and folded once. You open it, gasping when three photographs fall out of it and onto the ground. You don’t know what is on them because they landed on their face side. So you read the letter first.

“It has always been mine as well.”

Written in black ink and a familiar handwriting. This is Yoongi’s writing.

With even shakier hands, you pick up the pictures. You feel sick for a moment, gawking at the cruel pictures with your hand thrown over your mouth. The three men who terrorised you. Their mutilated corpses look back at you. He tortured them to death.

You rip the door open, stumbling onto the balcony. You look down at what tripped you. Two bags of your favourite takeout food and a six pack of water. Both clearly fresh. So it was him. Yoongi must be here somewhere. You look into the distance. The night is loud and blurry in a thunderstorm. The streets are empty. The ghost of your past is gone again. You squint your eyes. A person.

“Yoongi!” you call out, unable to realise that you are smiling and waving your hand.

The person moves. Oh. It was just the shadow of a tree. For just a moment you had hoped that the dark shape was him waiting for you. It was just a tree…and you were happy that if could have been Yoongi. The realisation hurts.

“Fuck”, you press out, going back inside. The lump in your throat makes it hard to breathe. You stumble back to bed, halting for a moment when you pass your suitcases.

It has always been mine as well. His words repeat themselves in your head. All this time, you thought that he didn’t care. All this time, you thought that your terror left him cold. Your eyes drift over the empty takeout boxes from the noodle place. You still haven’t cleaned them up. He made sure that you were properly fed for days back then. A glance at the new stuff he got tonight. He is still making sure that you are. Your eyes drift over the package next. He made sure that they stopped getting stolen. You look at the pictures in your hands. He made sure that they would never hurt you again. All this time, you were so blinded by your own anger that you missed how he had always looked out for you. You missed his way of showing you that you were important to him.

It has always been his problem as well.

Something inside you breaks and you scream. You don’t know what you scream for, but you scream. It hurts so much. It hurts so much because you will still leave. He will hurt you again if you stay. All his efforts healed your heart and it hurts so much because you will still leave. You were meant to stay broken hearted. Leaving would have been so easy this way. Now it hurts like a bitch. But you can’t sway. You have to leave this place. It will chew up what little is left of you until you truly cease to exist.

V comes to your place the next day. He rings your doorbell. It wakes you from the uncomfortable sofa you fell asleep on last night. You groan as you sit up and you barely want to open your eyes as you stumble to the door.

You open it without checking the camera first.

“Took you long en- you?”

Jungkook, the young officer, greets you with a smile.

“I swear I’m not stalking you.”

You have a headache today, so it is difficult not to snap at him. He is also not the person you wanted in front of your door today.

“I’m starting to doubt that.”

He laughs, “it’s not that. I talked to my boss. Your friend, the boss of the other boss. Sorry, anyways. I need you to come to the precinct with me.”

“What? Why?”

“Okay so, this is actually so cool and I shouldn’t even be telling you this, but you’re my boss’ friend so I guess it’s okay”, he begins with sparkling eyes, “turns out that the package thief is actually a serial thief and you aren’t the first one he stole from. Isn’t that cool? It’s like in those movies. Those cool cop movies.”

“Really? He stole from more people?” You highly doubt that.

“Yeah”, he laughs as he answers you, nodding his head excitedly, “now we’re calling in everyone who he stole from so we can take their statements. My boss says that we can’t keep the thief locked up for long otherwise.”

You know that this wasn’t really how the law works. After all, you were once a lawyer who was fucking good at her job. Is Yoongi trying to drag you back to him? First he tries to change your mind by killing your bullies and now he is trying to do the final blow by abusing his power as police chief? You check the time. Couldn’t the young officer have come later? You could have had your passport already and be far, far away from this place.

“Can I just give it to you here?” you ask him.

“Mhm”, he tilts his head to the side, “no, I don’t think that it works like this. I’m sorry, Miss. The captain said that it’s important that all the victims come into the precinct.”

You have to give Yoongi that. He is real clever about it. That means however that you can’t escape this situation. Any more resistance from you would make you suspicious.

You give up with a sigh. “Can I just change into something different?”

“Of course, Miss.”

The young officer lets you sit in the passenger seat. He is so new at all of this. With such naivety he tells you his entire life story. That he was from the countryside and that his dream has always been to be a policeman in the city. That he studied hard for years and that he completed his enlistment with honour just so he could be a proper officer. He sounds so proud of himself that each second with him makes you hate his presence more and more. He is so fucking stupid and it angers you. Why would he throw away his life like that? Why someone like him?

You are led to one of the precinct’s interrogation rooms and are told to wait there. The table is decked with different foods.

“What’s all that?” you ask Jungkook.

“Breakfast, Miss.”

“Did your captain tell you to do that?”

“He said that wanted to make sure you get your breakfast because we called you in so early. The captain really cares for the citizens.”

You stifle a scoff. Sure he does.

“Mhm, I see.”

“Either way, it won’t take long”, the young officer bids his goodbyes and leaves you in the interrogation room.

His words were a lie. You wait and wait and wait, but nothing happens. There are no clocks in this godforsaken room, but you still know that it has to be hours. You didn’t want to eat the breakfast at first, glaring at the two-way mirror because in your mind, Yoongi was behind it, watching you and making sure that you ate. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction at first, but had to in the end. The body begins working against one’s will when it is starving and the breakfast looked way too good. You eat all of it, then glare at the mirror again. You are still left alone and more time passes. It is as if they are trying to wear you down, as if you were the criminal in this situation. Granted, you are a criminal, but only Yoongi knows that and right now you are a poor civilian having done nothing wrong. You know that it’s Yoongi’s doing. That he somehow wants to terrorise you.

So when the door finally opens and he walks into the room, you almost throw the empty bowl at his head.

“Forgive the wait, Miss but something came up”, he says nonchalantly, flicking through some papers.

His second in command Kim Namjoon and the young officer Jeon Jungkook are behind him, which is why he is putting up this act. You grind your teeth.

“I already started to wonder if I’m in danger here”, you say way too sweetly.

“That depends on how you are going to answer our questions”, he says and sits down on the chair in front of you.

Jungkook stays by the door while Kim Namjoon stands a little to your side.

You look around yourself. He is trying to intimidate you.

“What’s that supposed to mean? I thought that I’m here to give my statement because of my stolen packages.”

Yoongi glances up from the papers. This is the first time your eyes meet after your fight and he killed your bullies. If only the others in this room would know how much blood he has on his hands and to which length he is willing to go to protect you. There were times where you would have dragged him over the table and kissed him senseless, but not anymore. You are stronger than your urges, even if it hurts your heart. You can’t give in again. If you do, he will take you for granted again. You won’t be happy with him. You finally have to fucking understand that.

“You’re right. You are here because of that”, he says dryly.

“Good. It started on May sixteen. I came home at around seven ten and noticed that my packages were missing. Two were stolen back then, but in total he stole eight packages”, you say and proceed to tell him the exact dates with the time as well as what was stolen.  

“You seem to know how such hearings work”, he says after he wrote down what you said.

“I had a few hours to practice what I was going to say”, you say with a poisonous smile.

One Yoongi retorts with just as much poison and a deep hum.

“Apologies again.”

“Don’t worry, I know how hard the police works at keeping this honourable city safe.”

He tongues his cheek. You give him a victorious smirk. This cut. Good. He takes a deep breath and releases it through his nose, reaching into his suit pocket to pull out a cigarette. He gets as far as to put it to his lips and then Kim Namjoon already speaks up.

“Captain. Smoking is prohibited in this building.”

“Fuck”, Yoongi presses out and takes the cigarette between two fingers to tap it against the table instead.

“Smoking is bad for you either way”, you say.

He tongues his cheek again. You know that he wants to curse at you right now, but can’t. He has to put up a friendly act.

“I know, can’t shake the habit”, he says and studies your face, “so what now?”

“Sir?” Kim Namjoon is rightfully confused. Yoongi slipped up.

“I don’t know, I was never in such a place before. Do you still need to take my information?” you act oblivious.

“We already have everything.”

“Great. Then I can go?” you ask, fluttering your lashes innocently.

“I don’t know yet.”

“Sir?” “What? Why?”

Yoongi shifts in his chair until he manspreads like an idiot. He crosses his arms in front of his chest.

“What are you going to do now?” he asks you.

“Uhm…is this still part of my hearing?” you ask, glancing at Kim Namjoon.

“No of course not, Miss. Please, follow me.”

“Sit. Down.”

The room is silent for a moment. You glare at Yoongi while Namjoon and Jungkook gawk in complete confusion. Their captain acts out of character. There is no reason to keep the innocent lady here any longer. This isn’t like him at all. He has been fidgeting all day, barely drank his coffee, went for far too many smoke breaks and now this. The officers have no explanation for their captain’s sudden behaviour.

“What is the reason for this?” you ask him.

“Just safety precautions. We wouldn’t want our honest citizen to get into danger”, he says coldly, “now answer my question. What are your plans now, Miss?”

“I will go home.”

“Where is that home?”

“Sir, I don’t know if that is necessary.”

“Shut up, Kim.”

Namjoon gulps, exchanging a confused look with Jeon Jungkook. This is really not like their captain.

Yoongi straightens up and leans forward so he is closer to you.

“Where is that home, Miss?”

You lower your eyes in anger.

“I don’t know yet, I’m planning to leave this city.”

“What?” his voice shook as he spoke. His fingers close and break the cigarette that way. His eyes almost bore holes into yours from how deeply he stares into them.

“This city’s become too depressing for me. I plan on leaving it for good.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Yes, I do. There is nothing holding me here anymore.”

“Yes, there is.”

“No, there really isn’t. I will leave.”

Bang!

You flinched back. Namjoon and Jungkook tense up as well.

Yoongi slammed his hand on the table, jumping to his feet.

“No the fuck you won’t!” he yells.

“Sir? What are you doing?!”

“Excuse me? It’s my right as an honest citizen to move”, you act oblivious as well.

“Keep her here”, he talks to Jungkook, pointing at him, “lock her up and keep her here.”

“Under what pretence, Sir?” the young officer asks with widened eyes.

“I, I, I don’t know. Refusal to, to, to cooperate or some shit like that”, Yoongi never stutters and he never paces, but he is currently doing both of those things.

“Sir…is…this legal?” Jungkook asks shyly.

Yoongi is by Jungkook’s side within a few steps, grabbing him by the collar.

“Do as you are told, Jeon! Unless you want to lose this job!” Yoongi growls, making Jungkook whimper with fear.

“Captain Min, you are stepping out of place”, Kim Namjoon speaks up, dragging him away from Jungkook, “and get off this poor officer’s neck. He is just doing his job.”

Yoongi whips around, now targeting his anger at Namjoon.

“If he was doing his fucking job, he would lock her up”, he hisses, pointing at you.

“I need you to step out for a moment, Captain”, Namjoon says and gestures Jungkook to open the door. The young officer obeys, holding it open as Namjoon shoves a protesting Yoongi out of the room. He closes the door again, muting the vivid fighting Yoongi was doing with Namjoon outside.

He meets your eyes, smiling awkwardly.

“Please forgive the Captain, Miss. He is very concerned about his citizens’ safety.” He is a terrible liar, but you don’t blame him. If you were in his situation, you would have no idea how to explain such a situation to a supposed innocent citizen either.

“Don’t worry. I, I’m just wondering if maybe I can finally leave? I’m sorry, this just really scared me and I just want to lie down at home now”, you act shaken up, looking at the young officer with pleading eyes. 

“Of course, Miss. Our honest apologies again, Miss. Please follow me”, he says and leads you out of the room.

Yoongi and Namjoon are still arguing, but stop when they see you come out. You lock eyes with Yoongi for the briefest of moments. 

He closes the distance and grabs your wrist, dragging you with him with such vigour that nobody truly gets time to act. Not even you know what was happening to you until you find yourself in his office with the door slammed shut. 

“What are you doing?” you gasp.

“Shut the fuck up, you’re not the one asking this question right now!”

“Yoongi, lower your voice. This isn’t the place for screams.”

He steps closer to you, pointing at your face in warning.

“I have every fucking right to scream right now and you know that”, he presses out through gritted teeth.

“Why? Because I finally don’t need you anymore?”

“You can’t move. What the fuck are you thinking?”

“I’m-”

‘I'm not done”, he interrupts you, “I killed them for you. I did it. Just for you. Because your safety matters to me. I care.” He hits his own chest. “I showed you that I care and you’re gonna leave?”

You hate that you love him, but not for the usual reasons. You hate it because it hurts. You are going to leave despite not wanting to. You love him, perhaps you always will but you are also going to leave. 

You nod your head.

Yoongi exhales shakily, taking a stumbling step back. He stares at you as if you were the ghost whose haunting hurts him the most. He huffs out air, rubs his hand over his mouth, then runs it through his hair and down the side of his neck.

“I’ll kill the thief”, he says in the end.

“What?” 

“I'll make it seem like suicide. He’ll look like a pisser who couldn’t take prison and killed himself.”

“Are you out of your mind? He’s just a thief.”

“Well, what more do you need?!” he screams

“Nothing! I don’t need anything from you!”

“Why not? I can give you whatever you want!”

“Look at you. Now that you finally realised, I’m actually serious about the breakup, you wanna act like you care.”

“I care”, his voice broke, but you are both too angry to acknowledge it, “i-i-if I knew that you- I just-” He breathes in, breathes out, rubs his mouth, then his neck. “It can’t end like this. It can’t.”

“It can. I’m done begging you for everything.”

Yoongi steps closer.

“I can-”

“Sir? What is the meaning of this?” 

Kim Namjoon and Jeon Jungkook are in the office. The rest of the precinct gawks at you and Yoongi through the doorway. The latter lifts his hands and steps back. His fingers are shaking. 

“The captain just voiced his worries for my move. Don’t worry about it, Kim Sir”, you lie and turn to leave, “may I finally leave?”

Namjoon tells Jungkook to handle it with a nod of his head. The young officer points at the open door.

“Please after you, Miss.”

Yoongi says your name. 

You look at him over your shoulder, despite knowing you shouldn’t. He takes a step closer, lifting his brows in pleading. Don’t give in. Don’t give in. Don’t give in. You ball your hands to fists and turn your back to him.

Yoongi tries your name again, hoping for another look. One which doesn’t come. 

“Come back”, he tries, but gets stopped by Namjoon.

You can hear them talk as you leave.

“What the fuck’s your issue, man? You’ve been weird all day and now you’re screaming at citizens?”

“Watch your tone.”

“Hyung, I’m not here as your colleague right now. I’m here as your friend.”

“She’s gonna leave, she can’t…”

Jungkook leads you away from the office before you can hear Yoongi’s full answer. 

“Are you crying, Miss??”

“Hm? Oh that, don’t mind them. It’s just…” Your heart is broken and you want to run back to Yoongi. “...forgive me, I’m just a little shaken from everything.”

“I’m sorry, Miss. The captain isn’t normally like this.”

“It’s alright. I know how Yoongi can be sometimes.”

“Yoongi?” Jungkook asks, glancing at the captain’s office. He wonders what kind of friends you and he are. Maybe Those kind of friends? Is that why you are important to the captain? 

“I mean…sorry, I don’t know why I said that. I just wish to go home now.”

“Of course, Miss.”

“Oh god, I don’t even have money for a bus ticket with me”, you murmur to yourself, looking for your wallet. This is all a scheme to get Jungkook to drive you home again. You are worried that if he didn’t, Yoongi would somehow get to you before you could reach the station.

“Don’t worry about it, Miss. As a policeman, it is my duty to make sure that you get home safely.”

“Really? I wouldn’t want to waste your time.”

“Of course, Miss.”

And so he takes you home and you hate yourself because of it. So it began. You were the first person who used his kindness to her advantage. You were the drop beginning the inevitable filling of the tank until one day it will swap over. And once that happens, it is almost impossible to stop the leak. Fuck, you are just as terrible as everyone else in this city.

But the young officer is oblivious to what you just did, driving you home with a kind smile on his face. He even walks you to your door and stays as you unlock it. Your neighbours are fucking again. He glances at their door, then awkwardly at you.

“Yeah, I’ve got new neighbours. You can’t go over there and flash your badge and tell them to shut up, can you?”

“Of course I can, Miss. Just one mom-”

“No stop, I was joking”, you stop him, studying him with exhausted eyes. You are so sorry. You are so fucking sorry.

“Ah, okay. Please forgive me, I always take everything way too seriously”, he says, scratching his own neck shyly. He furrows his brows. “What’s the matter, Miss?”

“Can I tell you something?”

“Of course, Miss.”

“Run.”

“What?”

“Run back to your hometown. Run and never look back.”

“Excuse me?” he laughs in confusion, furrowing his brows harder.

“You’re a good person, Jeon Jungkook. This city will fucking ruin you.”

“I…uh…” He laughs nervously. “I don’t seem to follow, Miss. Sorry.”

“You don’t need to get it, just listen to me. Please.”

“O…kay? I uhm…”

“Thank you for driving me home. I’ll think of you sometimes in my new home.”

“Miss, are you okay?”

“I am. You don’t need to worry about me anymore. Just promise me to run.”

“I promise?”

“Good. Be happy, Jeon Jungkook.”

“Miss, I-”

You close the door on him and lock it. You don’t expect him to knock or ring the bell. He is too proper to annoy you this way. You check the camera. He stares at the closed door for a few moments longer, looking confused. He lifts his hand to knock, hesitates and turns his back to the door instead, leaving down the steps to drive off. You know that you confused him, but you had to. Please let it be enough to save him.

V arrives later that day. He is stressed and clearly in a hurry.

“What’s wrong? You look like you need to be somewhere or like you need to shit. Do you need to shit?”

“What? No”, he sounds out of breath as well as annoyed, “I’m risking my ass being here. I’ve got your stuff. It’s the only thing except mine that I managed to save. Give me the money, quick.”

“Save?” you probe, giving him the money.

He stuffs it into his boxers hastily, looking over his shoulder again.

“My place got raided by cops. I was at the market getting food, then came back to five cop cars in front of my place. I barely escaped. If I didn’t always carry my stuff with me, I’d have been fucked.”

“What?!”

“Sorry, Hyacinth. Gotta leave the city for a while. I wish you all the best.”

“V, what the fuck?”

“Here’s to never seeing each other again, aye?” he jokes, laughing nervously. It’s a good thing he said. Never seeing each other again meant that you and he managed to escape safely.

“Wait. Where will you go?”

“I can’t tell you. You know I can’t.”

“Yeah, just…be careful.”

“You too.”

He leaves and you know that he will be successful. If there is one person who won’t ever be found it is V. 

You are in a trance for the rest of the day. Yoongi raided V’s place. He went as far as to betray his own people just to make sure that you wouldn’t leave. Carrying your new passport feels like a trophy, as much as it feels like a curse. Leaving this city won’t be as easy anymore now that he knows. You are so fucking stupid for telling him, but you didn’t want to miss out on his reaction when he found out. The small moment of satisfaction seems skippable now that you know how far he is willing to go to keep you close. And because V came as late as he did, your means of escape don’t drive anymore either. You have to wait for the earliest bus if you wanted to or not. Fuck, you did this to yourself. You stupid fucking woman. Look at you. You have this big, honourable degree and still manage to get yourself into shitty situations over and over again.

You go to sleep with a gun under your pillow. You won’t risk anything.

You don’t get a lot of sleep and then a noise wakes you. You heard it as clear as day. Someone unlocked your front door. He sent men to get you. Now he’s gone too far. You jump out of bed and grab your loaded gun, tiptoeing to a spot from where you could observe the apartment. You have to be strategic about it. First count the men, then calculate the fastest way to shoot them, then act. The door closes and locks again. Clever bastards, they want to make sure that you don’t flee. Oh, you are going to have a blast killing them. One last little thing to leave Yoongi before you abandon him.

The automatic lights turn on. Got you, assholes.

The first enters your vision.

“Hm?”

Yoongi. Clearly drunk, he is dragging his feet over the floor, using the wall as support. No one else follows him. So he came here alone. 

Overtaken by anger, you jump out of hiding and at him.

Yoongi collides with the wall, feeling the cold nuzzle of the gun press against his chin. He drops the keys and flowers he was carrying, lifting his hands in defeat.

“Careful, it’s just me”, he lulls.

“Get the fuck out of my house”, you spit, carrying murder in your eyes. 

“I can’t believe you’re still hiding your keys under the flower pot. Don’t make me so worried, anyone could enter.”

“I’m gonna count to three and if you haven’t disappeared by then, I’ll shoot.”

“Can we talk?”

“One.”

“I know I fucked up. I can’t stop thinking about you. Please, can we try again?”

“Two.”

“I promise I changed. You were right, I was a joke. But I wanna do better now.”

“Three.” “I’m sorry!”

Yoongi squeezes his eyes shut. His death never comes. He peels his eyes open again.

You are staring, panting heavily. Tears are in your eyes.

“I’m sorry”, he whispers.

This is the first time he is the one to say these words first. It feels so good, but you can’t give in again. You made up your mind to leave…didn’t you? You study the state of him. He is heavily intoxicated. He looks the way and reeks of it.

“You’re drunk.” 

He nods his head, furrowing his brows. He touches your elbows, caressing them softly. Such touch you only get when he is drunk.

“I drank because of you. What you said today. I just…don’t move away, please”, he begs, eyes filling with tears.

“So now you care? I wasn’t important to you when I was with you and now that I’m leaving, I’m suddenly important?”

“You’ve always been important.”

“No, I haven’t. You took me for granted.”

“I did and I’m sorry. I never should have taken you for granted. I’ll do better now, please just give me a chance to prove it to you.”

“If I give you a chance again, you’ll just abuse it and hurt me.”

“No, I won’t. Please, I just.” He cups your face, running his thumbs under your eyes as gently as possible. “We were right once. We were so good together. We were a team and, and we had dreams and we made each other happy. I want this back, I wanna try to get this back again please.”

“I just want to be happy, Yoongi”, you press out.

“I’ll make you happy, baby. Please, I-I’ll make you happy again.”

“No, you’re drunk and talking fucking shit.”

“I’ll leave this city if you want me to.”

You falter. He would give up what he built just for you?

“You wouldn’t do that.”

“I would. For you I would. I’d set this whole city on fire and leave with you as it burns to fucking ashes behind us, please.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Please”, he whispers and drops his forehead against yours, “please, I want to make you happy again.”

You hate that you love him. You hate that he made you addicted to him. This is so awfully him. He gives you enough affection that you get addicted to it then takes it away again. And once he feeds it to you again, you drink it up like an alcoholic. It is always the same. 

“No, you won’t. You’re drunk.”

“Please.”

“Leave my place.”

He presses himself off the wall and grabs the nuzzle of the gun, guiding it right between his brows.

“You have to kill me if you want me gone.”

You gulp. He forces your finger to the trigger. Your airways close up.

“Kill me. Fucking kill me. I can’t live without you anyways.”

You could end it. You’ve got everything. Your suitcases, your papers, the keys of his car he drunkenly drove like an asshole. You’ve got everything you need to escape this place. You could end it, finally make sure that you have no temptation to return. You could end him and your addiction with it. He’s got your finger on the trigger, it needs just one flex and it would be over. But you never wanted him dead. No matter how much you wished for him to be gone, you never wanted him dead. Because in some fucked up way, all you really wanted was for him to put more effort into you.

“No”, you whimper, shaking your head. 

He rips the gun from your fingers and drops it on your dresser. 

“I don’t want to kill you”, you press out, sobbing softly. 

He cradles your face, wiping your tears. 

“I know”, he gets out, nodding his head, “I know you don’t, princess. I know.”

“Yoongi”, you squeak out, twisting his shirt. 

“I’m here, princess. I’m here.”

He pulls you closer until his kiss is just one breath away, feeding on the shaky breath you let ghost against his lips. His drunken eyes gaze at your mouth, his heart is racing in his chest.

“Push me away”, he tells you.

“I hate you.”

“And I love you.”

“Yoongi”, you whimper, finally touching his chest instead of his shirt. 

He moans and pulls you into a kiss. A deep, hungry kiss. 

You pull at his hair to get him off of you as much as you pull him closer, fighting for air. You hate that you love…do you really? Do you really fucking hate it? Do you really hate it when his kiss makes you feel alive again? You spent months feeling out of breath and now it’s gone. You can breathe again. At least metaphorically, physically he’s got you very close to passing out. You push at him to get distance. Air. He lets you breathe, but not escape. He pushes you to your sofa until your legs collide with the back of it. Your shaky breaths intermingle, your shared moans follow. His right hand slides to your ass, his knee lifts to your middle. 

You gasp, grinding down on him. You can’t protest because he kisses you so deeply it feels as if he wanted to consume your soul. He kisses and gropes, kisses and gropes until air is sparse. He gasps.

“Fuck. Fuck, I’m fucked”, he gets out and pulls your head back so he could drag his tongue up your throat. 

It should disgust you, but it doesn’t. You moan, running your nails down his chest and arching your back. He lifts his head, looking at you with drunken, crazed obsession. His fingers just can’t stay still on your body. It is as if he wanted to touch everywhere at all times. The attention makes you short of breath.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.”

You touch his cheek. He leans into your palm, closing his eyes when you trace his scar. You were with him when he got it. It was during a fight. He fought with his fists, his opponent chose the cowardly way and pulled a knife on him. He was lucky that he didn’t lose his eyesight. He hated it at first, but you made him feel handsome. You always looked out for him that way.

“Do you…do you think I’m handsome?” he asks. Such questions you only get when he’s drunk. 

“I do.”

His breath trembles as it leaves him. He drops his hand from your hips to take out his cock. He touches himself, gazing at you as if he needed the view of you to stay hard. And he does. He needs you. You are the only person who can turn him on.

You look at what his hand is doing, gulping heavily. He sighs, gazing at your face. You are as mesmerised by him as you were when everything was still good between you and him. His cock still has the same effect on you.

“Princess?” he tilts your head back up to meet your eyes, using only two fingers under your chin for it. 

You meet his eyes, heart racing unbearably.

“Yes?” One little lift of his brows and you give him the answer he craved. 

You part your legs, tilting your hips closer to him. You nod your head vigorously, gazing at his cock again.

He doesn’t bother to pull his pants down all the way, neither does he care about taking off your panties. He pushes them to the side and stuffs you full of him, gripping the edge of the couch and your right thigh as deep moans leave him. Your right leg is lifted like this, supported by him.

You gasp, tensing up. Your toes curl instantly, your fingers clutch his lower arms. His cock stretches you out and stuffs your walls. It’s not uncomfortable, but it is definitely intense. You gasp again, looking at him with widened eyes.

“I know baby, I know”, he breathes and bottoms out. “It’s been too long. Fuck.” 

He moves, chasing your warmth in drunk, sloppy thrusts. You writhe and gasp repeatedly, scratching the back of his neck. You want to hate that you love him. He should feel like an intruder. You should want to kick and scream for help. But you don’t want to. You feel whole again. No preparation, but he doesn’t hurt. His kiss and touch was enough. Your addiction to him runs so deep that his cock is pure heroin to you.

“Yoongi”, you get out, grabbing his throat. Your thumbs are on his Adam’s apple, threatening to press down.

He smiles, “I love you”, he gasps out and drops his head against yours. His long hair tickles your face, his drunken breath swirls over your skin. He gulps and moans under your fingers, pumping into you with no signs of slowing down. You start losing strength in your calf, standing like this is exhausting, but if you were being honest, you don’t want it to stop. 

“I hate you.”

“Fucking kill me then”, he rasps.

You close your fingers slightly.

“Harder. This isn’t gonna do it.”

“You first.”

“Fuck, baby”, he gets out and lifts you so he could round the sofa with you. He pins you down into the pillows, ripping the panties off of you and kicking his pants off. He pushes into you before you can truly realise what was happening, feeding you all of him until he can’t give any more. He twists the pillow next to your head as he takes on a punishing rhythm. His dark hair hangs into his face, his teeth are bared as he huffs like an angry animal.

“Yoon-”

“I know, baby I know. You already told me, baby. I know”, he whispers, wiping your cheek, “take me, I know you can. You’re my baby, you’re made for me.”

His praise is like medicine to you. This is all you needed. To know that he is still obsessed with you and that you still affect him. 

You close your legs around his hips, keeping him with you this way. You need him to always stay like this. He moans your name, slipping his fingers from your cheek to hold the pillow instead. You told him that you hated him, but your body betrays you. Your eyes betray you. You keep him close, gaze at him as if he was your everything. Yoongi’s head is turning. Not only from the alcohol, but also from being with you again. And from knowing that you still loved him.

Because he loves you so much. He hates himself for taking you for granted. He never should have. You are his everything. The fucking reason why he does all of this. The last three months were torture for him. He started smoking again, drank too much, slept too little, worked too many hours. And if he didn't distract himself with work, he tried thinking up ways of showing you that he was still there for you. He ordered his officers to look out for you, sent food deliveries to your place, parked in front of your place somewhere hidden to watch you smoke on the staircase. He also followed you sometimes after you confessed to him that some of his goons were terrorising you. And each time he followed you, he wished for you to notice him just so he could get a chance at talking to you again. But you never did and Yoongi thought that you will come back again soon. Then you told him that you would move and Yoongi finally broke. He was truly losing you. Three months of hell, of lonely nights and heartbreak and he was truly losing you. 

“I missed you”, he gets out, painting his name against your favourite spots. The eagerness with which you clasp him results in your hips to lift off the pillow, allowing your clit to grind against him each time he bottoms out. The necklaces he is wearing are tangling over your face. They were too long once, but Yoongi cut them to the perfect length so they wouldn't hit your face when you are underneath him. That was six months ago. During a time you thought he didn’t care anymore. You feel so stupid now. His way of showing you that he cared was always there. He was always looking out for you. You were just too blind to see. 

You gasp and whimper, mewl and keen, looking up at him with teary eyes and your fingers closing around nothing. You can’t tell him that you missed him too because you are too overwhelmed. 

“Did you miss me too?” but Yoongi is drunk tonight and when he is drunk he is needy for your affection. 

You nod your head. 

“Say it.”

“I missed you”, you get out, following it up with a sob. 

“Baby, I love you”, he croaks, wiping your tears before dropping his forehead against yours, “I love you, baby, I love you. Don’t leave me again, please.”

“You’re so drunk.”

“Yeah, drunk ‘cause of you. Thought I’ll lose you. Baby, I can’t lose you”, he croaks and shows you his honesty with passionate rolls of his hips. Somehow he goes even deeper than before, he hits your favourite spots even better. 

You arch your back and scream his name, throwing your head back as best as possible. This is electric. Holy shit, he makes you feel good. Your face scrunches up against your will, your feet shake on his back. 

Yoongi admires you with a pounding head and racing heart, repeating what he did before over and over and over again. You react in mewls and moans and screams and he can’t get enough of it. He wants for you to lose your fucking voice because you couldn’t stop screaming for him. Because if you sound like this for him, he makes you happy. It has been too long since you actually screamed this way, so Yoongi is especially affected by tonight.

He laces his fingers with yours – again, he is drunk – and squeezes them needily. He thinks that he is crying too. He watches pearls of something drip onto your face sometimes. His eyes also burn. He doesn’t want it to stop. He is willing to carry his emotions on his sleeve if it meant you were happy again.

“Is this what you needed? Does this finally make you fucking happy?” he gets out, chasing the ecstasy as much as he helps you with your own pleasure trip.

You squeeze his hands back, making him moan your name.

“Ye-yes.”

“Argh”, he growls, trying so much harder to fuck you right. It feels so good. He has to tell you. He stayed silent way too often in the past. You want his efforts and he wants to give them to you. “You feel so good.”

The first confession was hard because he isn’t used to sharing his feelings. It was hard, but it was also ecstatic because your sounds of pleasure became louder and you tightened around him, squeezing his hands happily. 

“You feel so good. You feel so fucking good. You feel so good, princess. You feel…so good”, he can’t stop now that he started, telling you over and over and over again how you make him feel. Good. So good. He feels so good when he is with you. “You are so good. Princess, fuck. I have to..I, I have to- ah!” 

You open your eyes in time with Yoongi collapsing on top of you. He whimpers into the crook of your neck, shaking almost pathetically.

There are two things you always believed to be true about Yoongi. First: When he fucks, his moans are always deep, raspy and growly. Second: He has perfect control over his orgasms. 

Both of these things are getting proven wrong to you right here and now as he whimpers and shakes and paints your walls with his unexpected orgasm. You want to blame the alcohol on it and maybe the months of abstinence, perhaps even the fear of losing you paired with the relief of having you again. Holy fuck, he actually loves you doesn’t he?

“I love you”,  he sobs, hugging you close. 

“Yoongi ah”, he breaks you with his confession and the tenderness with which he holds you. You swear that you can taste colours for a moment. You haven’t felt honestly good in your own skin in months. This right here is what feeling good is. This is it. 

You don’t know who comes down first. You think it is Yoongi, but even if he does, he doesn’t pull out. He lets you shake and throb and clench around him until your moment of peak pleasure is over as well. He holds you silently afterwards, catching his breath in the crook of your neck. He missed your scent like nothing else. Truly, it leaves him so drugged out that he actually finds himself drooling as he smiles like a giddy boy. 

You calm down with his weight atop your chest, his length still inside you and his hair between your fingers. It is still a little stiff and crusty from the variety of hair products he keeps in it during his day job. To think that mere hours ago, you were screaming at each other in his office. It feels so far away to you now. Like a memory of an unbelievable life.

You don’t hate that you love him. You really don’t. 

“How.” He clears his throat. “How are you feeling?”

“Good.”

“Are you sore? Does anything hurt?”

“No, but I’m leaking.”

“Fuck”, he laughs into your shoulder, nibbling on it gently, “sorry, I just…am drunk and missed you.”

“You were pathetic doing that.”

He laughs harder. You and he have a peculiar sense of humour. He knows that you meant it fondly. You laugh as well. He lifts his head at the sound of it, cupping your cheek. 

“If it means you’re laughing, I can live with being pathetic.”

Your heart flutters.

“What’s gotten into you?”

“Booze. Way too much booze.”

You laugh again. His eyes soften, he caresses your face. 

“Definitely too much booze, yeah”, you agree.

“Mhm, fuck.” He cuddles into your shoulder again. “I’m sleeping here.”

“And you think I’d let you?”

He nods his head.

“Fuck, you’re the worst.”

“Am I wrong?”

“No, you’re not.”

You wake up alone the next morning. It hurts. So nothing changed. He got what he wanted, made you addicted again only to leave. Like he always did. And you are left feeling dirty and used and fucking awful. 

You probably would have stayed in bed to cry the entire day if a very worrying noise hadn’t come from outside your door. Someone’s in your kitchen. You roll out of bed and leave the room. You don’t need weapons today. You are angry enough that you will probably be able to beat whoever is dumb enough to break in. 

You cross the corner and stop, lowering your fists.

Yoongi. 

He took a shower and tied all of his wet hair into a messy bun. He is shirtless, wearing a towel around his hips. Music is playing from his phone while on the stove, breakfast is sizzling. 

“You?”

He turns at the sound of your voice, face lighting up instantly. 

“Good morning, beautiful”, he says, closing the distance to take you into a hug. “Did you sleep well?”

You don’t answer him, you push at his chest so you could look at him. You can’t believe that he is still here and that he is making you breakfast.

“What’s the matter?” he asks. 

“Why the fuck are you still here?”

He furrows his brows, “why not?”

“I, I don’t know. I just, just. I thought that…huh? You didn’t leave?”

He frowns in regret for a moment, before leaning in to kiss your cheek. He gives your left buttock an almost playful squeeze afterwards, stepping back to return to the cooking.

“I’m making your favourite. I also cleaned. Your place was a shithole, honestly.”

Still flabbergasted beyond relief, you look around your small apartment. He didn’t just clean up the garbage and tidy, he fully wiped the place down. You check the clock next. It’s way past one at noon. You slept for more than twelve hours. Damn. You never even realised how much sleep these last three months took from you until you finally fell asleep in his arms again and actually stayed asleep. You feel refreshed and not uncomfortable in your own skin. 

Last, you look at Yoongi. He is humming to the music, switching between stirring the eggs in the pan and chopping up some pork belly. 

At first you don’t want to accept that this is actually happening to you, but then the desire to be close to him gets too grande to bear. You almost run to him, colliding with his back in a passionate hug. 

He stumbles and grunts, following it up with a fond chuckle and his big hands rubbing your lower arms. 

“Please don’t make me regret this again. Please.”

He turns in your arms, caressing your waist. He shakes his head, looking at you in ways he hasn’t looked at you in ages. As if he honestly loved you. 

“Can you promise me?”

“I promise you, baby”, he says in a soft voice and locks pinkies with you. 

The gesture is so cute and honest, that you have to stifle a giggle. Your heart hasn’t fluttered like this in ages.

“I have an idea. How about I’ll take next week off and we’re leaving this city for a while? Maybe the mountains? You’d like the air there”, he suggests. 

“Are you serious? Do you actually mean that?”

He nods his head. You and he began swaying to the music, looking at nothing else but the other. 

“But first I gotta sort out the mess I made when I busted V’s place”, he says.

“Yeah true.” You slap his chest. “Fuck you for that. He didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I know, I know. I acted irrationally, I admit. But I’m gonna fix this. You know how easily I can make stuff disappear. He’ll be able to return again in a week or so.”

“I hope you’ll fix this, you idiot you.”

“Mhm, I will and then I’m taking you on a long vacation”, he says, kissing your forehead before hugging you against his chest.

You close your eyes, melting into his chest. 

“And when we’re there, I’m gonna make you breakfast and make you cum and make you smile. Yeah?” he whispers.

“Yeah”, you snicker.

He smells like your shower gel today, but you don’t mind. He hasn’t shown such an actual desire to change in months and it feels so good to receive. You love that you love him. You really do. 

“I love you, Yoongi”, you whisper, feeling him squeeze you for just a moment as your confession overwhelms him. 

“I love you too, princess”, he tells you and he is sober for it because he swore to himself that he won’t need alcohol anymore to be able to show you his affection. 

He is willing to better himself, he truly is and a week later, you and he are in his car on your way to a long vacation in the mountains.

[brokenmenswhore]

can I request a jace x reader? rhanerya sends her kids away (s3e3) and baela is off worried about king’s landing so he’s lonely and misses his family and it’s just super pure and fluffy?

if all else burns | jacaerys velaryon

pairing: jacearys valeryon x reader

warnings: s2e3 spoilers!

a/n: sometimes i feel like i’m fighting for my life with the spelling of some of these names that have either ‘ae’ or ‘ea’ in the middle. a lil short i hope that’s ok!

────── ☾ ──────

Jacearys did everything he could to hold his head up high at all times, but each day weighed him down more and more. He still grieved his little brother, his betrothed was off on her dragon keeping an eye on King’s Landing, and now his mother was sending the last of his younger siblings away for their safety.

He was proud to stick around, happy he was needed, but being professional at all times was getting difficult.

He hugged his younger brothers, squeezing them one last time before they were sent off with Rhaena.

He attended his mother’s council meetings, standing tall and keeping his mouth shut. He held his head up high and supported his mother.

You and Jace had been friends since childhood, always leaning on one another when things got hard. Your family had sworn allegiance to Aegon II, so you had fled to Dragonstone in support of Rhaenyra and her family. You couldn’t imagine what Jace was going through, his entire family at war, and no matter what he did, he just kept having to say goodbye to someone.

“Jace?” you whispered, slowly pushing open the door to the room he was sat in, elbows on his knees as he watched the fireplace.

“Hey,” he spoke softly, “everything ok?”

You walked closer to him, taking the seat next to him. “I actually came to ask you the same thing.”

You watched Jace, the fire contouring his face differently each time the flames moved. “I miss Luke,” he spoke.

You reached out a hand, placing it atop one of his. “I know.”

You both sat in silence for a moment, watching the fire dance before he finally spoke again. “Everyone keeps leaving. I fear it’ll only get harder with the war.”

You stood at this, moving in front of him and kneeling before him. His eyes met yours in a moment of vulnerability.

“I won’t leave, Jace. I’m right here.”

He smiled at you, pressing his forehead against yours and taking a deep breath. You continued, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m not sure what I would do without you.”

You smiled warmly, “good thing for you that you’ll never have to find out.”

You leaned up and hugged him, allowing him to take a deep, relaxing breath while his chin rested on your shoulder.

“I don’t want to fight this war,” he admitted, “I just want it all to stop. If the Greens would just give my mother her throne, we could move on from all of this- this hatred.”

You pulled out of the hug, placing your hands on either side of Jace’s face.

“I wish for the same,” you replied, “but until then, you are strong, and you will persist.”

“I’m so tired of being strong.” His voice broke, tears threatening to spill.

“So be weak with me.”

Jace smiled as you pulled him into another hug, allowing him to cry for a bit in your arms, using your presence as an outlet for the emotions he never let out. You knelt there for several minutes, not daring to move, just allowing him to get it all out.

When his breathing calmed down, he pulled back a bit and pressed his forehead to yours again.

“I don’t know what to do,” he began to ramble, “I don’t know how to keep everyone safe. I’m supposed to lean on Baela, but she’s been so occupied surveying King’s Landing that she’s rarely ever here. My mother grieved, and now needs to be pragmatic, rather than let her grief consume her, but how do you not let this grief consume you? Until my grandsire died, everything was so simple. The only squabbles were between Luke and Aemond. I don’t know how everything got so complicated. I miss the peace.”

You felt bad for him. You empathized with him; he was in such a complicated position, and you could tell he felt like his family was shrinking with the war, making his responsibilities even more important. His mask of strength was fading. You were the only outlet he had.

“You mean everything to me, Jace,” you spoke, “if all else fails, if all else burns, we’ll always have one another.”

Jace smiled. “If all else burns, we’ll always have one another.”

[samkerrworshipper]

Please could you do an imagine with Lucy bronze where the reader is also on the England team and gets injured during a game and Lucy is basically just being really cute and fluffy as well as a little protective 🥰

AHHH

I loved this request sm so here you go!

i feel like this could be followed up with a part 2 to expand on the reader and lucy’s relationship so lmk if you want to see that! also please feel free to keep sending in requests god knows i need inspo rn lol

A shoulder to cry on

Lucy Bronze x Reader

fluff, lil bit of angst, injury, graphic injury, pain, hurt/comfort, 3200 words

blurb: when lucy’s girlfriend goes down in a match how does she deal with it and how does lucy look react

I was too busy watching the ball flying towards goal to see the body flying at me. Too busy focusing on the Australian goalkeeper to acknowledge the knees slowly sliding under my own feet. Too busy focusing on getting my team a goal to give us a chance to stop myself from being floored by the Australian whirlwind, Ellie Carpenter. I went head first into the turf, my body flopping down onto the grass with my head dug into the dirt. My ears were ringing and I was a groaning mess. My whole body hurt and I couldn’t even muster the energy to turn over to access the damage that had been inflicted. All I could feel was gut wrenching pain, from my feet all the way to my hip.

When I was finally turned over I was met with the sight of Ellie and Steph Catley, two Australians that I didn’t want to see right now. I was a screaming, shaking, crying mess. Both women were very clearly taken aback by my emotion. The stadium was a ruckus, and as my teary eyes flashed up I saw my goal being replayed on the big screen, a goal. At least that was something, I’d done something to help us claw our way back. We were 100 days off from the World Cup start though, 100 days. Judging by the amount of pain I was in though that was nowhere near enough time.

As a professional athlete there is always the background fear that you are going to get injured. An overwhelming worry constantly in the back of your head that maybe this time it is going to be your last, maybe the next time you step on the field it might be the last time in a while. As you become a professional, as you start playing for your nation you learn to silence that part of your brain, you can’t afford to live in fear that you are going to get hurt. But watching teammates, friends, people you love get hurt, reinstalls that part of your brain, makes you wonder if maybe you are next, maybe next time it’ll be your turn. That fear though, it’s nothing in comparison to actually getting hurt, nothing in comparison to realising maybe this time it actually is your last.

That was all I could think about as the two Australian women tried to talk to me, tried to communicate with me. The first one of my teammates to rush over was Leah, who shoved both Australians away before crouching down beside me.

“Hey y/n, take a deep breath, the medics are about to get here, you don’t need to worry.”

Leah’s words were like a breath of fresh air, a break from the constant ringing in my ears.

“L-ucy, need Lucy.”

Leah nodded at me, smiling down at my face and nodding. Her hand made it’s way down to my face and wiped away the tears that were falling.

“She’s on her way angel, just stay patient for me, she’s making her way over, just take those deep breaths.”

“Hurts, hurts so fucking bad.”

Leah nodded at me, I watched her eyes creep down my body to my legs and that was how I knew it was bad, because not even Leah could avoid looking.

“I know, I know angel, I am so sorry that I can’t do anything about that. Just keep taking those deep breaths for me.”

I couldn’t help but continue to sob as I waited for someone, anyone to give me some kind of relief. All I could feel was pain and it was clear in Leah’s mannerisms that she didn’t really know how to help me, how was she supposed to help me?

“Y/n, listen to me, take a deep breath, I know you are in pain, the medics are getting here as fast as they can so you just need to take some deep breaths.”

It didn’t help that we were positioned on the opposite side of the field that the medics would be on and it was also a problem that if the umpire hadn’t blown her whistle they wouldn’t be allowed on.

“How bad is it?”

The words left my mouth in between sobs and breaths. Leah clearly didn’t know what to say, she clearly didn’t want to worry me any more but Leah wasn’t a good liar and she had a shit poker face.

“Don’t worry about that, keep your eyes on me. It’s just me and you, kiddo.”

Leah had taken me under her wing long ago, she treated me like her little sister.

I watched her eyes flash up in a panic and before I knew it she was jumping off of her feet and rushing off in the direction behind my head. I couldn’t help but turn my head to watch where she was going. I was still a little bit spaced out so it took me a few seconds to spot her out but once I did I found her rushing towards Ellie, who was sitting a few metres behind me. I couldn’t figure out why she was rushing over until I spotted Lucy approaching, running towards her, a look of absolute anger on her face. Leah was trying to get to her before Lucy inevitably got to Ellie. I watched it unfold as Lucy just made it to Ellie before Leah did, yanking her up by under her armpits.

I didn’t get to see much more, my head was pulled back to being flat on the turf by Millie and Sam Kerr, my ex-teammates from Chelsea.

“Hey y/n/n, the medics are just about to get here, it’s going to be alright.”

Millie’s tone of voice was similar to that of Leah’s, calm, patient, the voice of a captain.

“I need Lucy.”

Lucy was my other half. The love of my life, my everything. I wanted her, I wanted her to be there to hold my hand and to tell me that everything was going to be fine, even if it wasn’t.

“I know, Leah’s sorting her out, she’ll be here in a minute.”

Lucy was insanely protective over me, to a concerning degree. In the past year I’d made the decision to move to Barca, to be with her and it had been great but something I’d learnt from playing alongside her regularly was that she was a little bit too protective over the people she loved. A defender did so much as foul me on the pitch and she did everything in her power to seek some sort of revenge whether it was in the form of physically hurting them or doing anything in her power to get to them.

“I need her Mil, please.”

Millie nodded at me and then looked at Sam, I was in fucking shambles.

“I’ll go get her okay, feel better kid.”

Sam patted me gently on the shoulder before leaving just me and Millie. I was still lying on the pitch, fighting back more tears as I looked up into the sky and just prayed for this to all be over, for the pain to subside and for everything to just dissipate.

The medics were the next people to make it over to us, accompanied by Sarina and our trainer. The game had obviously been stopped for me so they seemed to be in a rush to get me off, with my goal we had a shot at winning now.

“Hi Ms y/l/n, how are you feeling?”

“In pain.”

My answer was flat and the medic let out an empty laugh at my reply.

“Okay, on a scale of 1-10 where would you put yourself at?”

“A 6.”

Sarina snorted at my reply, she knew that I had a high threshold for pain, I’d met her originally when I was playing as a rookie for Chelsea, she’d been the Netherlands coach at time and the coach for a professional team in the Netherlands which she’d tried to recruit me for but I’d turned her down. I’d never have guessed a few years later she would be coaching me on a National level.

“That means its a nine.”

I glared at Sarina, she knew me a little bit too well.

“Okay, this is a penthrox whistle, it should administer immediate pain relief, enough that we should be able to get you on the stretcher and off the pitch.”

I looked at Millie, then at Sarina, then at the Medic, immediately shaking my head.

“I’m walking off.”

All of their faces told me that I was missing something.

“I can’t allow you to do that.”

In all of the chaos, all of the emergence, I hadn’t had the opportunity to even look at the source of my pain.

Before I could say anything more Lucy was crouching down beside my head and I couldn’t have been more grateful to see her. Her hand slid into mine and just her face, her smile, it was enough to make me feel like I wasn’t fighting a fucking battle.

“Luce, can you please tell them to let me walk off the pitch, just let me have that.”

I was fighting back tears and I could tell that Lucy was fighting an internal battle. Her eyes flashed down to my legs and then back to my face and just the split second gasp was enough to tell me that it was bad, really bad. Her hand fell to my face and that was how I knew it was not good and that was when I started sobbing again.

“How bad is it? Stop beating around the bush just tell me.”

All of the people above me looked between each other before the medic spoke,

“Your knee is dislocated, you’ve got some deep lacerations and stud marks in your shins and a piece of your tibia is sticking out of one of them. You are bleeding a lot, we need to get you off the field and to hospital, take the green whistle and we’ll get you off the field as soon as possible.”

Those words hurt, a lot, more than the injury itself. I nodded to the medic, I wasn’t walking off the field with that list of injuries, I was surprised I was still conscious with that comprise of injuries.

“Baby, just take the pain meds, you're in enough pain.”

Lucy’s voice, her convincing was probably the only thing that made me nod my head and let them pass me the inhaler. I got straight to inhaling it, and within the first ten or so inhalation I felt the pain relief start to kick in. It was good, it made me feel almost ten times better. Lucy was there the whole time, whispering sweet nothings into my ear as they medic attended to my legs and Sarina wrapped a blanket around my shivering upper half.

It was about five minutes before I was floating on a pain free drug induced cloud. When that happened they started to transfer me to the stretcher, with the help of Sarina, Lucy, Millie, Leah and the two medics. It was a touchy process, they were very clearly trying to keep the movement of my leg limited. The actual movement of getting me onto the stretcher had me screaming, pain relief or not it hurt insanely and I knew at that moment that my World Cup dreams were pretty much over. I cried the whole way to the ambulance. Lucy and my teammates had to desert me once I made it over to the sideline so they could finish off the game, eventually, along the way I passed out from the mixture of drugs and blood loss, something I was grateful for.

When I started to stir I had a headache but I felt warm. It took me a few seconds before I cracked my eyes, it was dark outside, my room was dark. But not so dark that I couldn’t make out everything around me, the lights from the hallway and machines giving me a steady source of light. The first thing that I saw was that a big percentage of the Lionesses were piled into the room, Georgia, Leah and Keira and piled onto a pull out sofa, Rachel, Millie and Mary sharing the spare cot beside me and a few of the other girls scattered in seats across the room. It was cute, looking at all of my teammates who were clearly gassed from the game but still here. Sarina and Lucy were slumped in the seats immediately to my side. Just as I let my eyes float over to Lucy her own blueish eyes tiredly connecting with my own. A tight lipped smile made its way to her mouth as she acknowledged me.

“Hey baby.”

Her voice was hushed, it was clear she was trying her hardest not to awaken any of our teammates. As she blinked away the sleep she slipped her glasses over her face, locking her eyes properly with me once the frames were slipped over her eyes. Her voice was enough to put more tears in my eyes, I was pretty sure I’d cried enough tears for about six people.

She stood up quietly, letting her hand fall to my face, gently rubbing a circle against my cheek. It was enough to have my lip trembling and my eyes darting across the room. Before I knew it I was a pleading staggering mess.

“Why me? Why now?”

Lucy’s facial expression just broke into a frown and I could feel her worrying from a few centimetres away from me. Before she said anything she pressed her lips to my forehead. I sobbed into her, not really worried about waking up any of our companions.

“I know sweetheart, I know, it’s okay, I’m going to be here for you every step of the way.”

My breaths came out in hiccups and the hospital gown I was in clung to my body with the sweat that I was producing from working myself up.

“How bad is it, did we win?”

My words came out in pieces, it sounded like my Spanish, which was very rough and not very consistent.

“No, but don’t worry about that. They relocated your knee, you had to have surgery on your leg but it’s just a metal plate and some stitches for the lacerations from Carpenter’s boot.”

I honestly felt bad for the Australian defender, she’d had it bad enough with the press for the last while, let alone getting someone else’s blood all over their cleats.

“So my world cup dream is over.”

Lucy let the words hang in the air for a few seconds, it solidified the words in the room.

“Hey, not necessarily. The doctor said that the surgery went really well, that the fracture was pretty minor and that he expects a speedy recovery. You could be back running in 4-6 weeks.”

Even Lucy didn’t sound that optimistic, it was clear she was trying her hardest but she was struggling.

“My fitness will be shot, 4-6 weeks off the pitch pre world cup practically guarantees my spot gone, even if I’m running, in what world would Sarina take the chance of putting me on the pitch.”

Lucy’s brow furrowed, it was hard to catch in the dim light but I managed to with my eyes adjusting to the darkness.

“I won’t have anyone putting my girl down, especially not you. You will be fine. I can’t promise you that you will make it back on the pitch, you will make it to Australia, if it’s the right fit. Maybe it won’t be, maybe that’s fate and I know that’s shit to accept, shit to get the short straw and I am so sorry that you are in that position. If I could switch with you I would. I would do anything for you and you know that, I’ll be here for you everyday, I will give up anything to make this easier for you, I can promise you that. I can promise that I’m here to be whatever you need. You need a shoulder to cry on? I’ve got two. You need someone to listen? I’ve got two working ears and great advice if you want it. You need someone to just be here for you? I will sit with you for as long as you need.”

Lucy’s words hit home for me. She had always been willing to do anything for me, she’d walk to the ends of the earth to do anything for me, she’d made that clear from when we’d first met. I’d been apprehensive from the beginning but she’d fought and fought until I’d given into her and when I had I’d fallen head over heels in love with the woman.

I moved myself over in the bed and patted down next to the space I’d left open beside me. Luc seemed apprehensive to begin with, her eyes darting between my leg and my eyes.

“Please, I just want my girlfriend to hug me, can I have that?”

Lucy bit her lip, she was clearly a little bit nervous about the idea but her slumped shoulders and tired eyes were enough to tell me that she was tired and just as needy as I was. Neither of us slept well without the other, on the rare occasion that we were separated we both struggled with the loss of contact.

“I’m not sure y/n/n, I don’t want to hurt your leg.”

She was so cute when she was nervous, her voice a nervous murmur. I put her worry to rest fairly quickly though, the pain meds were running through my veins and I was equally as tired.

“Luce, my bad leg is on the other side, I just need some contact, I need to feel loved and comfortable and this hospital bed is making that hard, so please, just hug your girlfriend.”

Lucy sighed and nodded at me, she couldn’t deny me, ever, I had her wrapped around my little finger.

“Alright, how about I slide behind you and you can rest against me?”

It took a little bit of push and shove and some wincing and pain on my side but eventually we got Lucy situated behind me, up against the pillows. I was resting comfortably against her chest and stomach, my head resting in her neck. It was everything I’d needed to make me feel a little bit better and once we’d both gotten settled I smiled up at her gratefully. She pressed her lips to my forehead, I swore that I could feel the compassion behind it but maybe that was the morphine speaking.

“I love you.”

She’d smiled down in that goofy way that she did when I gave her a compliment. Lucy was a goofball, it was one of the things that I loved about her. She was always laughing and making people around her laugh, she was just full of good energy and it made me a better person.

“I love you too, my love, always, get some rest. It’s all going to be okay.”

[heartsandstars46]

Imagine Peter like sitting down with you before bed and reading to you 🥺

(You can just respond to this with your thoughts or this could be a request if you'd like)

My first request! 😭🥹 tysm lovely, it was a lot of fun to ride this creative wave! It ended up being a fluffy lil prequel to bf tasm!Peter x fem reader where he takes care of you when you have a cold. 🫶🫶🫶

word count: 1.1k

Be Nice to Spiders

“Peter, I’m fine. You didn’t have to come all the way home with me from the Daily Bugle.”

He stared at you. “Oh sure, right, you're totally fine on your own practically bumping into things and slurring your words. How much of that cold medicine did you take? Is this your house key?”

You couldn’t deny that his concern was sweet, especially since you guys were just coworkers/kind-of-friends.

“Yeah. Wait… we took the subway already?”

Peter laughed, unlocking your front door. “Yes. You slept most of the way. On my shoulder.”

“Oh my god. I hope I didn’t drool on you!”

Peter could only laugh as he ushered you inside and locked the front door. “No, you were fine.”

“Great. Well, okay then!” You dropped your bag and coat on the living room floor. “I think I need to lay down.”

“Good idea. Is this your bedroom here?”

“Yep. God, I need to put on some comfier clothes.” You were too out of it to care or fully remember that Peter was standing in the doorway. Luckily, he spun around in time to avoid seeing anything or getting hit with a flying blouse. 

“Whoa! Ha! Um, just let me know when you’re changed there.”

“Okay, all good!” Now in your pjs, you climbed into bed.

“Great.” Peter pulled the comforter up to your chin, then frowned. “Do you mind if I…?” He gently pressed the back of his hand to your forehead. “Oh man, you’re burning up.”

“It’s okay, I just need to sleep it off.”

“You should probably take something to bring down the fever.”

His care and kindness made your heart flutter. “Don’t worry, I already did. Hey, Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you gonna head out now?“

“Uhh… not yet, if that’s all right. I think someone should keep an eye on you in this state.”

“Cool.” You smiled and pulled the blankets nearly up to your nose. 

Peter looked around for a place to sit and dragged your desk chair over to the edge of the bed.

“Hey, what did your parents do for you when you were sick?” You asked. “Did they read to you?”

“Ah, maybe? If my father read anything to me, it was probably, like, Watson and Crick discovering the DNA double helix.” Peter looked very pleasantly surprised when you laughed. “I’m going to choose to believe that wasn’t just the medicine talking and that you truly appreciate my fine science humor. I’m guessing your parents read to you?”

“Oh yeah, every night. We practically lived at the library.” You smiled, remembering. “Goodnight Moon, The Snowy Day, all that stuff, sure, but other awesome books that people have probably never even heard of. Like If I Owned a Candy Factory! Ooh, or Be Nice to Spiders! Whoa, are you okay?”

It looked as though Peter had nearly fallen out of his chair. (Weren’t you supposed to be the woozy one?) “Huh? Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry, you had a book about being nice to spiders?”

“Yeah! I don’t remember much, except that the spider’s name was Helen, and she was actually really helpful to people—and that’s why you should be nice to her instead of scared of her. And I was terrified of bugs as kid, so my dad made it, like, required reading. Look it up, see if it’s on Google Books or Amazon, or something. It’s a real book, I swear. This is not the medicine talking!”

Peter started scrolling on his phone and murmured, bemused, “Spiders are really helpful to people. Oh wow, here it is—Be Nice to Spiders. And the spider’s name is, in fact, Helen.”

“I knew it!”

Peter smiled. “So… how do you feel about spiders today? Are you still nice to them?”

“I try to be. They’re not here to hurt anyone, and they spin their cool webs. Why do you look so excited about this? Please don’t tell me you have, like, a pet tarantula or something, because I cannot deal with that.”

He laughed, looking weirdly delighted. “No, no tarantula, don’t worry.”

“What then?”

“I don’t know. I guess you’re just… cooler than I thought.”

You stared at him. “Oh yeah, that’s me! Sleeping on you on the subway, babbling about kids’ books and spiders, super cool. What a delight!”

Peter smiled. “You are a delight.”

Your face suddenly felt flushed and not entirely from the fever. You had thought he was cute and sweet for a while now. And you were just delirious enough to make the slightest bit of a move…..

“You know, there’s something else my parents used to do when I was little and couldn’t sleep. My mom would sit next to my bed, kind of like where you’re sitting, actually, and she’d hold my hand. It was like that last earthly connection as I drifted off to sleep.”

It looked like he was trying not to smile. “And that helped?”

“Yeah, it felt really nice. Comforting.”

“Do… you think it would help if I did it?”

You nodded shyly. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Okay.”

Slowly, tentatively, you reached toward each other. You’d only ever grazed hands exchanging papers at the office. You could feel your heart beating faster. Then you noticed Peter’s face.

“Hey, you’re awfully flushed. Oh gosh, I hope I’m not getting you sick!”

His face turned an even deeper shade of red, and he ducked away from you. “No, no, I’m fine. I’m great. Don’t worry about me, you’re the patient here.”

Hmm. You smiled, interlacing your fingers. Could it be that he liked you too…?

“Peter, I really appreciate this, but I don’t want to make you stay all night.”

“Actually, uh, if it’s okay, I’d rather not leave. I want to make sure you’re okay. If that’s okay’s with you.”

He was so endearing when he got flustered. “Sure. And you don’t even have to hold my hand or read me kids’ books all night, I swear.”

“Oh, that’s right!” With his free hand, he picked up his phone, scrolled a bit, then looked at you, cleared his throat, and said very seriously. “Be Nice to Spiders. A dramatic reading.”

You laughed and snuggled down into your cozy bed, your hand holding his.

“‘One morning as the Keeper of the Zoo was about to unlock the gate, he noticed something on the steps. It was a matchbox with a note that read: ‘Please look after Helen. I’ve had her since she was a baby, but I can’t keep her anymore. We have to move to an apartment that won’t take pets.’”

You could feel yourself smiling as your eyes grew heavy and began to close. Peter’s hand was warm and gentle; you didn’t mind it being your last earthly connection as you drifted off to sleep.

Part 2!

[mypoisonedvine]

32:"I wish they could all know about us." 48:"there's no way that was just a one-night thing." 54:"just one more kiss?" With Thomas Shelby, Raymond Leon or Ernst Schmidt

-❄

oh my gosh I've been wanting an excuse to write for ernst for ages!

warnings: smut (18+ only!!), secret relationship, semi-public sex, a bit of marking kink?, cocky lil shit ernst with a fluffy side

100 random prompts - send me a number and a character!

You could feel his eyes on you as you worked-- it was distracting, even though you were pretending to ignore it, and you had to put all your energy into looking like you were actually being productive so he wouldn't interrupt you.

Which, a few minutes of silence later, he did anyways. "So, are we going to talk about it, or--?"

"No," you said firmly.

"O-okay," he agreed, looking back at his own work.

That silence only lasted for about ten seconds.

"I want to talk about it," he announced.

"I don't care," you frowned, turning to face him, "we said we wouldn't talk about it. There's nothing to talk about."

"Nothing?" he repeated with a scoff. "That's what it meant to you, nothing?!"

"No, I didn't say that, of course it meant something, I just--" you began, but stopped yourself when you realized what you were doing, and he smiled proudly.

"See? See what I did there? I made you talk about it," he explained smugly, "and now we're talking about it. Was that so hard?"

You wondered if he meant to say that-- to say exactly what he'd said to you two nights ago. Of course, he'd said it pretty differently then: he'd told you he was going to make you come a third time, and you swore up and down you couldn't do it again-- but then after a few minutes you were clawing helplessly at the sheets under you, sobbing his name, shaking all over. Was that so hard? he'd asked you, mocking how quickly you'd fallen apart for him.

So, yes, your heart sort of skipped a beat when he said that, and your thighs pressed against each other-- he noticed, clearly, since he glanced down at your legs and back up at you with a smile, but thankfully he didn't call you out.

"We can talk about it," you offered, making him perk up, "later."

He sighed again. "And how am I supposed to be productive when all I can think about is this conversation in the indefinite future?"

You rolled your eyes. "I don't know-- just figure it out, okay! We can't talk here, in case someone comes in..."

His eyebrow raised. "So that's what you're afraid of, then. Of anyone finding out."

"W-well, yeah, of course," you replied. "It would make everything so much more... complicated. And I'd never hear the end of it-- and think of how hard I work to be taken seriously around here. Can you imagine if some of those guys knew about it? They'd probably think I only became an engineer to sleep around-- or think they have a chance with me, too. I just can't handle that right now."

He nodded, stepping a bit closer to you. "You're right. I hate that you're right, but you're right."

"It's not that I'm... ashamed of it-- or of you," you offered, lowering your voice a bit. "You understand, right?"

He reached forward, a hand resting on your waist which made your heart skip again-- the way he'd held you that night, keeping you pressed up against him, touching you everywhere he could reach-- "Of course I understand," he said, breaking you out of the memory. "It's just a shame... I wish they could all know about us."

You looked up at him, smirking a bit. "Us?" you repeated. "Who said anything about us? We just hooked up one time, that's it."

His hand slid up from your waist to your back, pulling you into him. You knew you should push him away-- you had your hands on his chest, prepared to if you heard anyone coming by-- but you were too caught up in the warmth of him, the smell of his cologne, the way he was looking at you right then. "There's no way that was just a one-night thing," he said, almost a hint of anger in his voice-- of incredulousness, that you could even suggest that. "You were there, you know what it was like."

"What was it like?" you challenged.

"Perfect," he answered instantly, making your face heat up.

"Well, I don't know about that," you hummed, "there was that time where I accidentally kicked you. Or the part when you stopped for water and totally spilled it all over your bed."

"No, that was all perfect, too," he decided.

"You didn't mind sleeping on a wet patch?"

"Darling, you'd already made one."

You choked on your own throat, looking away to try to collect yourself. He smiled and used the opportunity to hook a finger into the neckline of your uniform, tugging it down a bit and humming proudly.

"My mark is still there," he noticed. "You're welcome, by the way-- for only leaving them where no one would see."

"No, there was one here," you corrected, placing your finger on a certain place on your neck, "I covered it with makeup."

"Oh! Impressive," he nodded, "I wouldn't have noticed-- right here, you said?"

His finger traced the place, and you nodded.

"Hmm, this spot right here?" he repeated, voice softer, moving closer.

Your eyes fell shut as he latched his lips onto it again, you mouth falling into a quiet sigh. "E-Ernst, I told you, we can't--"

You cut yourself off with a whine as he grabbed your hips, guiding you back to sit up on the console; your legs instinctively wrapped around him as his teeth grazed your pulse again, and he growled quietly.

"What if someone c-comes in, and sees us?" you panted, holding tight onto his shoulders.

"Let them," he purred. "They'd have to see it to believe it, anyways: how beautiful you look like this... how easily you give in to me..."

"Fuck," you whimpered, your back arching when his tongue traced a line up your neck.

"I still can't believe it," he continued, "everything you let me do to you, how perfect you feel inside. It's like you were made to take me."

"God damn it, Schmidt, don't talk like that," you hissed, using a commanding tone that he was much more familiar with from you.

"Are you getting bossy now?" he noticed with a grin, pulling back to look at your face. "I don't mind. You can tell me what to do."

Your heart pounded but your brain, finally, took control. "Fine, here's what you should do: stop. Before we do something really, really fucking stupid."

He smiled a bit, and nodded. "Okay-- you're right. We shouldn't."

You sighed with relief, and he pulled back slightly, though not enough to let you get off of the console.

"But before we stop, just one more kiss?" he pleaded, giving you those cute puppy eyes you couldn't resist.

"Sure," you agreed, smiling as he leaned in closer-- but he stopped, and his hands were suddenly opening your uniform's belt. "Wh-what are you--?"

"Sorry, darling," he winked, "but you didn't specify where to kiss you. So I chose myself."

Your head fell back with a sigh as he sunk to his knees in front of you. "F-fuck, Ernst, you can't be serious-- if someone saw us--"

"Don't worry," he purred as he started to tug your trousers down, "if this goes anything like last time, it shouldn't take me very long."

[lotusarchon]

i just had a idea for Macaque's Successor BEAR WITH ME

Macaque who damn well heard them fucking in the alleyway, doesn't matter if he's in the dojo or somewhere else far far away he WOULD have heard them doing the nasty, so when he sees the reader he starts giving them the silent treatment for a few days or weeks, depends on how nasty we were my man is just traumatized with the image of his unofficial successor fucking his ex (husband) friend's successor in a dirty alleyway in tuktuk NONETHELESS and we're not that bothered since we got together with MK now yay😃 but of course mah boy has to keep this secret so his pookie doesn't get targetted😞 and yeah that's basically it, Macaque giving us the stink eye and going protective monkey mood once his disgust and shock wears off and us eventually going to MK's apartment for a lil date✨ if it's fluffy or not is up to you

Goddamn I went crazy here😦

Given how things went down I don't see Macaque and Successor interacting for a WHILE until s2 (theatre episode) but I'd like to imagine he was recuperating at his dojo and accidentally got an earful of MK DICKING DOWN HIS NOT-OFFICIAL SUCCESSOR?? AND HE'S HORRIFIED?? CAUSE THIS KID WAS A VIRGIN WASN'T HE?? WTF??

Anyways MK knew very well Macaque was around at the term and he purposely fucked Successor so hard because he KNEW the six eared lying fuck would hear >:) what better way to avenge yourself than to fuck your enemy's...kid? Or whatever y'all wanna assume the relationship is hshwhwudje

What I have planned for the au though is that Macaque and Successor don't really talk for a long time. Each interaction they have is Macaque giving them a genuinely hard time, and while Successor does tolerate him s4 for Mk's sake, they don't really interact much. Macaque's still scarred so he's incapable of looking Successor in the eye, but he does try to apologize post s5.

It's just a shame Successor isn't forgive or forget type. Macaque's response to that apology is a broken nose for both terrorizing Successor and giving MK shit because yes, Successor had a grudge watching her bf get beaten up by her supposed mentor :D

I do like your idea tho, so maybe in an au thing yeah, this could happen, but in the actual story, nah, I can't see it. I plan to write Macaque canonically to his portrayal in the show, which is manipulative and very much selfish until the incident with the Samadhi fire, and even then he's a prick still. Successor isn't someone who forgives easily, and while she did once like Macaque as her fave, she doesn't really care that much after personally dealing with Macaque. And I have a few ideas for some more angst too :))

I also really wish for Macaque to earn his redemption with the reader, rather than just apologizing or helping and thinking that's gonna fix everything. Their dynamic is NOTHING like Sun Wukong's and Mk's, and Successor ISN'T MK. She's not forgiving him anytime soon, even if he did help save the world

I want more petty bitch readers and if I cannot find them I'll write em myself :3

[sleepdeprivedsimp234]

Main 6 appearance headcanons cuz I'm once again bored :]

==========================================

Florida:

Hair: brown and damaged by bleach. Not that long, it covers about half the back of his neck. And he has a mullet cuz I said so.

Eyes: Light brown, but sometimes they look golden yellow if the sun hits em right.

Height: 5'9

Build: He has a fairly muscular build, probably due to the many times that he wrestled a gator.

Skin: I imagine him to be kinda tan. Reason one being, he's Spanish, and reason two being all the time he spends at the beach.

Nationality (or whatever I'm supposed to call it): Spanish/Puerto Rican.

==========================================

California:

Hair: he has messy ass brown hair. And he has the damn tiktok e-boy hair cut. He probably also has blonde highlights. I dont think about him a lot lmao.

Eyes: reddish brown. Red cuz fire and the redwood forests, and brown cuz idk.

Height: 6'4

Build: This man had Arnold Schwarzenegger as his governor and you think I'm not gonna make him buff as hell? Ha. That's cute. He pretty buff, but at the same time he's comfy cuddle with (Just ask York and Texas)

Skin: He has tan-ish skin, like he's a lil dark but also pale as hell.

Nationality: Mexican-American

==========================================

Gov:

Hair: fluffy brown hair that goes down to his shoulders. It just makes me wanna ruffle his hair and pet him like the f*cking wet soggy kitten of a man that he his. Id lose a finger tho. Worth it.

Eyes: he has one red eye and one blue eye cuz I said so. And his pupils dilate if he likes something. Also he has dark circles under his eyes cuz he doesn't sleep.

Height: 6'1

Build: he has a sort of slim build, but also he has some muscle in him. He barely weighs anything tho cuz he rarely eats and whenever he does, it is usually something small that provides no actual good vitamins and nutrition. He passes out a lot due to this and is half-forced to eat something that has actual vitamins and sh*t that he needs to fully operate properly.

Skin: he has rather fair skin cuz he spends the majority of his time in his office.

Nationality: So he's PA's kid, so I'm just gonna say that he's German/Dutch/English

==========================================

Texas:

Hair: dark brown curly hair that rests at his shoulders. Sometimes he allows Loui to put little gold/silver accessories and flowers in his hair. Its also hella soft and I just want to pet him like a dang dog and idgaf how weird that sounds.

Eyes: dark brown eyes that have a slight red glint to them if the light hits them properly.

Height: 6'5

Build: like California, he's also decently buff, but he's on the leaner/slim side. Cal definitely is able to throw this mf around like a ragdoll.

Skin: he has darkish-tan skin.

Nationality: Mexican/Puerto Rican/Vietnamese

==========================================

New York:

Hair: he has long-ish messy brown hair that reaches down a little bit past the nape of his neck. It is usually a complete wreck seeing as he wears the beanie most of the time, but it also somehow never gets matted and/or severely knotted. And it's really f*cking soft as well.

Eyes: his eyes are a light golden-honey brown. He also has doe eyes, so he is automatically adorable by default. Although he can barely see out of one of them cuz he got hit by a glass bottle.

Height: 5'10

Build: He is lanky af but it is somehow really strong. But he also weighs literally nothing and is adorable so he gets picked up out of nowhere alot. He loves hates it.

Skin: This boi is a mf vampire. He's pale as hell cuz he never goes outside. Tho it is easy to see when he's blushing.

Nationality: Dutch/English/Italian (cuz I said so)

==========================================

Louisiana:

Hair: he has long dark brown curly hair that goes down to the middle of his back. Sometimes, he will do his hair in braids/dreads and decorate it with beads, flowers, and other dainty little gold pieces. Whenever it's not done in braids/dreads, he usually keeps it all in a bun, ponytail or single braid.

Eyes: he has one green eye and one purple eye (they aren't extremely vibrant tho, they are kinda pale/pastel). He also has dark circles under his eyes cuz he rarely ever sleeps.

Height: 5'7

Build: Like NY, he is lanky af but is also really strong. He is also a victim of getting picked up and cuddled out of nowhere. He's just- so huggable.

Skin: he has darkish-brown skin

Nationality: African-American/French

==========================================

[toomanydamnmuses]

((oops))

It was the usual bright, sunny day in Seireitei. Only a few fluffy white clouds in the sky, lazily floating past as if they have nothing else in the world to do. Which, Rangiku supposes, they must not. Clouds don’t have to worry about hollows, or missing captains, or paperwork, or anything like that. 

Clouds don’t have to worry about the promises that were never spoken aloud, or the promises that had never been kept. She remembers it had been sunny that day, too.

-

“Ne, Gin,” she calls up to the captain, perched just a little bit higher than her on the rooftops of the Third Division. “Pass me the sake, won’t you?”

An almost skeletal hand, one that many seem to be frightened by, oblige her even as he slides down a bit to sit beside her properly. His ever present grin in place, and she can tell that his gaze is locked onto the sight of a frantic Lieutenant of the Third trying to find his missing captain in order to get some paperwork signed. It is both sad, and funny, to Rangiku. Funny, because Izuru really does work far too hard and should take the break when it is offered to him on a silver platter like this. Sad as well though, because of the same exact reasons. The fact that Rangiku has anything to do with Gin being missing at the moment, of course, has nothing to do with her mixed emotions as she watches Izuru scurry about.

A bit further off in the distance, she sees Kuchiki-taicho and the memory of a rumor sparks in her mind. “Gin?” She begins, waiting for his vulpine gaze to lock onto her face, “is it true that Kuchiki-taicho had been married?”

Gin’s smile widens for a moment, before shrinking to be a touch smaller than it had been before she’d asked the question. If she hadn’t been so familiar with his expressions, the varying degrees of his smiles, she probably would have missed it entirely. He then nods. “Yup. Met ‘er out in the Rukongai somewhere, from what I heard. Lil’ lady passed jus’ recently, an’ asked him to do somethin’ or other. I dunno what, though, her final wishes were.”

Rangiku looks back to the apparently widowed Kuchiki, her heart aching for a moment. “Do you think we could ever do that? Marry, that is?”

She feels more than she sees how Gin tenses up, looking towards him again. His smile is now much more forced as he looks at her. 

“Nope,” he answers. She opens her mouth to ask why, when he continues. “I already looked into it. Apparently, for us Rukongai rats, they don’ want us marryin’ when we are high-rankin’ officers. Somethin’ ‘bout liability and not bein’ able to control ourselves if somethin’ went wrong.”

Somehow, Rangiku can see that being the case. After all, the stuck-up nobles in Central 46 wouldn’t dare to imagine that people from the Rukongai could be rational people too, able to control their emotions in a time of need. She snorts in response. “But the nobles can, then?”

Gin shrugs, his gaze moving to the ring he’d given her so long ago, that she wears on a necklace every day. She’d always thought of it as his own unspoken proposal, an unmade promise that he would always be there for her so long as they both may live, through sickness and in health.

“Maybe I can get my Captain, or some noble with some pull to maybe pull some strings for us,” she muses almost absently. She feels Gin tense more, and doesn’t know why other than perhaps nerves at the idea of actually doing it for real.

“Don’ bother,” he almost hisses out, but he sounds more afraid than angry. At least to her. “Like I said, I already looked into it, Ran. Ain’ no way we’d be able to. No way, no how. Nothin’ we can do, nothin’ anyone else can do. We jus’ gotta live wit’ it. We can keep spendin’ time together, an’ havin’ fun together. We jus’ gotta keep it as casual, no-strings-attached sorta fun, at least to everyone else’s eyes.”

Rangiku sighs dramatically,  but agrees. If nothing else, they can wear gigai, fabricate some identities for themselves, and get married in the world of the living.

-

It isn’t until now, years later, that Rangiku fully realizes what he’d done. As she watches Renji and Rukia announce their engagement, and thus their upcoming wedding, her mind wanders back to that day so long ago. Her hand moves up without her realizing, to find her ring and lightly hold onto it, her gaze distant as she remains lost in thought.

She’s happy for them, of course. She also knows now, and not just from this, that what Gin had said back then was a lie. How many other things he’d said to her, that were lies, she isn’t sure. She’ll probably never find out.

It’s probably a good thing, then. That he’d never actually made those promises, since he was never able to keep them.

[officialralsei]

heeey ralsei 😊

got a question for ya!

if you are a goopy lil fluff boi, what do you feel like? i vote slime ❤

or

2. if you are not a goopy lil fluff boi, do you think i could try to 'flopperdopper' you? it goes somethin like this:

(step one is the most important)

NYEHFULLY YOURS,

Soda

Are you asking how it feels to touch me? Umm... I suppose I'm, um, kind of cool and a little springy to the touch... um, I guess you could say it is like slime? Haha.

And, um, once the Lightners arrive, I'll be soft and fluffy enough that someone could do that! It might be a bit before I fully resemble a Lightner, but that's okay! I'll still be fun to pat and cuddle! Um, I don't know that you, specifically, will have the option to do that... you won't actually be in my world as yourself, haha. But, um, if it makes you happy to imagine that you could do that, then you're welcome to do so!

[systematicallycapricious]

Some plushie concepts that I’ve been working on recently! I still need to do the back and side profiles for Sho and Minazuki’s outfits, but I have to rest my drawing arm first, so I might add those in a reblog later.

Anyways, bullet list of lil’ details:

I’ll be making the Minazuki plush in full size (about 12in IIRC), while the Sho plushie will be roughly the size of a large keychain, because then I can bring Sho many places and make all the post-Ultimax world-travel references that I want. And maybe inevitably drop him off a cliff by accident, but I’ll try my best not to. xP

The sclera and teeth are gray instead of white because the white blended into the skin too much to be visible.

Yes, the hair will be that fluffy on the actual plushies.

Ideally, all the clothes will be removable, and the sheathes actually functional, but I’m not sure if that’ll be feasible and/or secure enough at a smaller scale intended for travel, so we’ll see.

They’ll probably have little crescent moon charms instead of recreations of the moon key, but I have to see what I can find materials-wise on that front.

Random circle-star on the sneaker tongues because I have no idea what’s actually supposed to be there. I looked through all the art and live-action costumes that I could think of, to no avail. >_>

Conversely, I can say with confidence that the Yaso High 3rd year pin is canon in some form. If you look carefully in Ch28, Vol4 of the P4AU manga, it’s distinctly a 3rd year pin on the jacket Minazuki nicks.

I’m undecided on if I’ll use the gray-eyed version or the blue-glow version for Sho’s face yet. Minazuki’s will keep the slate blue irises though, because imagining that the Plume affects the color of their body’s eyes the more active or energetic it is is fun.

Both of them will have the scars on their bodies though. I just drew them on a separate iteration for referential ease. :P

A lot of Tsukibat’s design here won’t match up with the final plush because fabric and pattern differences. For example, Tsukibat-back #2 is not at all how the fabric I have is going to work, alas. Also, I still need to finish wrangling a helmet reference for Tsukiyomi so I can better translate that to the plush... <_<;;

Tsukibat’s lil’ sun and moon charms are there to represent his two Persona-users.

I didn’t give Tsukibat Tsukiyomi’s crescent-mohawk because I thought it would be a bit much with the giant ears also being present. I think it looks alright with the design though.

I’ll be using [this pattern] and [this pattern] with some modifications for the plushies, respectively. (The latter was what inspired Tsukibat in the first place, actually. Galaxy bat x Tsukiyomi = this.)

I don’t currently have plans to make some to sell, but I might consider it in the future if it’s not too much of a hassle to create them. I’m not a professional or anything though, so IDK if they’ll even be sale-quality, lol.

Read all the way down here? Cool. Your reward is getting to see the derpy little embroidery color tests I’ve done for these so far:

(This second/third one was supposed to be a Minazuki expression version, but I botched it by doing the outline before the fill and then pushing the fill too close to the outlines, so it took on a much derpier form, lol.)

[hotgarbagedumpsterfire]

the one where Gojo gets turned into a chicken

crackfic, comedy, one-shot, not canon-compliant, putting those traumatized characters in silly lil situations, but they're less traumatized here and everyone is Still Alive, something something just this once everybody lives, for best results imagine Gojo as a white Silkie chicken

A/N: I can already hear ppl complaining like “bUt hE’s tHe sTrOnGeSt sOrCerRer oF tHe mOdErn agGe, he wouldn’t get turned into a chicken!!”

I literally don’t care, I wrote this for shits and giggles. Go find serious, canon-compliant fanfic somewhere else.

This was not how the mission was supposed to go, and yet, here he was.

Satoru Gojo had been turned into a chicken. 

A cloud-soft, white, Silkie chicken.

Granted, no one at Jujutsu Tech had actually seen the embarrassing incident/transformation as it occurred, but there was no mistaking the blindfold and the fluffy plume of feathers on its head. 

The strongest-sorcerer-now-pathetic-poultry had finally made it back to the high school and strode as quickly as his little drumsticks would carry him across campus in the last of the evening light, still determined to check in on his students as they settled into their rooms for the night. But he didn’t get very far before one of them found him. 

“A chicken?” Fushiguro asked, mildly amused, “what are you doing here?”

Gojo pecked at his pupil’s feet, trying to communicate his plight. 

Unfortunately, the only thing Fushiguro picked up on was the insane amount of cursed energy emanating from the feathered being. 

“A stray shikigami? That’s strange. They usually stick pretty close to their masters,” he mused, “and one of such power…”

Just then, as if magnetically drawn to the absurd situation, Itadori appeared, interrupting Fushiguro who was lost in thought.

“Megumi! You gotta help me, Kugisaki wants to drag me downtown to go shopping again!”

Fushiguro turned to look at his boyfriend idiot classmate.

“Just tell her you’re not interested.”

“Are you kidding? That girl won’t take no for an answer when it comes to shopping, and she always makes me be her bag boy!”

As Itadori was complaining to Fushiguro, who just sighed and shook his head, Gojo hustled over to Sukuna’s vessel, hoping he would somehow understand the predicament that the special grade sorcerer had found himself in.

“Whoa, is that a chicken? Where’d you come from, lil guy” Itadori asked, unknowingly lifting his teacher and inspecting him from some very unflattering angles.

“I have no idea,” Fushiguro answered, “but based on its cursed energy, I think it’s a stray shikigami, and a pretty strong one too.”

“No way,” Itadori scoffed, “Shikigami are totally tied to their masters, you taught me that, Megumi.”

Fushiguro smirked, “ok then, what do you think it is?”

Itadori thought for a moment, “hmm, maybe one of Yaga’s cursed corpses?”

“You think Yaga would create a cursed corpse out of a chicken?”

“Well, maybe! He’s got all those cute handmade dolls and stuff doesn’t he?”

“I guess,” said Fushiguro.

“I know, we could ask Panda!”

“Ask Panda what? What are you two morons going on about now,” asked Kugisaki, who had given up on shopping upon realizing that all her favorite stores were closed at this hour.

Itadori held the chicken close to his chest and hid behind Fushiguro, “n- nothing! It’s just guy stuff, you wouldn’t wanna know!”

But Gojo squawked in indignation at being squeezed, and Kugisaki raised an eyebrow.

“‘Just guy stuff,’ huh? Yeah, right. Care to share what you’ve got there, Itadori?”

Fushiguro leaned out of the way, exposing Itadori and his feathered friend.

“You know what? You’re right, I don’t wanna know what sort of ‘guy stuff’ you’re gonna do to that chicken.”

“Hey, don’t make it sound like we’re gonna do weird stuff to the chicken! We just found it and wanna know what its deal is, that’s all!”

Gojo took Itadori’s flailing as an opportunity to hop down and out from his grasp. He landed at Kugisaki’s feet, again pecking at the ground to try to get his point across. 

Kugisaki stepped back in surprise, “then why the hell is it already wearing a blindfold?!”

“What?”

“It was like that when we found it,” said Fushiguro, “and like I already told Yuji, it’s probably a stray shikigami, no need to freak out about it.”

Gojo decided enough was enough, and took off down the hallway of the dormitory and out into the common area, desperate to seek out someone else.

He ran right into Inumaki. 

“Kelp.”

“Huh? What’s wrong,” asked Panda.

Inumaki pointed, “tuna mayo.”

Panda lumbered over from his place on the couch, “oh, I see. Whatcha doin’ here, lil guy?”

Gojo tilted his head, before flapping his wings vigorously, trying to explain his situation.

Just then, the first years burst into the room.

“Have you guys seen a blindfolded chicken?”

“Right here, Itadori,” said Panda. “Cute lil guy, isn’t he?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess so…”

“Hah! So you were going to do something weird to that chicken!”

“No no no! Just because I think it’s cute, doesn’t mean I was gonna do anything weird!”

From her seat at the table, Maki ((because I respect her wishes and dare not call her “Zen’in”)) sighed in exasperation.

“Can you keep it down, I’m trying to relax over here.”

“Aw, c’mon, Maki, cleaning your cursed tools doesn’t count as relaxing,” said Panda.

“Besides, you should take a break, come see what we found over here!”

Maki sighed again and stood from the table, “fine, but this better be worth my time.”

“Salmon.”

Maki crouched down, looking over the chicken with a critical eye. Gojo stared her down, but it didn’t exactly work with the blindfold and the fluffy feathers falling over his face.

“Interesting, but definitely not worth my time.”

“What?”

“I mean, it’s got some serious cursed energy, even I can see that,  but it’s just a chicken,” she pressed her palms to the tops of her thighs, preparing to stand. But Gojo pecked at her knee, and then her fingers insistently.

“Ouch! Alright, you lil shit, now I’m going to exorcise you and cook you for dinner!!”

Gojo retreated a few paces before pecking at the ground again.

Maki was still glaring at the offending poultry, watching as it used its beak to tap out a message in Morse code. Her expression changed, from irritation to confusion to bewilderment.

“G-Gojo Sensei?”

“Huh?/mustard leaf,” five voices asked in unison.

Maki shushed her curious cohorts.

“He’s pecking out a message… Got cursed… need help… get Shoko!”

“Well, we better hope she’s still up,” Fushiguro said.

-

The students shuffled quickly across campus to Ieri’s office, Itadori carrying chicken-Gojo in one arm and banging on the door with the other.

“Ieri Sensei! Open up, it’s an emergency!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Ieri said, as she approached the door.

“What’s the emergency,” she asked, opening the door.

“It’s Gojo Sensei! He- he, well, just look at him,” Itadori cried, holding out the chicken and nearly thrusting it right into Ieri’s face.

Ieri chuckled, “wow, Gojo, you really got yourself in trouble this time!”

Gojo bobbed his head as if to say, “yeah, yeah, just fix it.”

“I don’t know what you expect me to tell you, Gojo, but I’m not a vet. I don’t know if I can fix this.”

“So he’s stuck like this?!”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But will Gojo Sensei be ok?”

“I’ll have to do a full exam, and I can apply some RCT, but other than the transformation, there’s no obvious sign of any sort of injury or ailment here to be healed.”

Ieri set chicken-Gojo on the exam table and looked him over carefully. Once she had confirmed that there were no apparent external injuries, she began to ask him some questions, using Maki as a proxy.

“When exactly did this happen?”

“...Mission today,” Maki interpreted.

“O-kay, uh, where were you when it happened?”

“...doesn’t matter.”

“Do you even know how it happened? Or who did this to you?”

“...no clue.”

“But you can still think, and speak for yourself, and understand me.”

“...Duh.”

Ieri scoffed a bit at that, “Ok then, smartass, why haven’t you turned yourself back?”

“...tried….can’t”

“Ha! Strongest Sorcerer my ass! Can you even use your cursed energy or cursed technique right now?”

Maki watched chicken-Gojo intently, waiting for his reply. Chicken-Gojo turned away from Ieri on the exam table, and looked almost embarrassed.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no,’” Ieri said, trying not to laugh. 

Chicken-Gojo still had his six eyes and saw it anyway, flapping his wings indignantly.

“Fine, fine, I’ll try my RCT. But you owe me, big time.”

Ieri placed her hands on chicken-Gojo’s chest and back, letting her reverse curse technique flow through him. The students in her office watched and waited with baited breath.

Nothing happened.

Gojo was still very much a chicken.

“Hmmm…” said Ieri, as the students practically erupted with concern.

In the midst of the commotion, there was a big puff of smoke, and suddenly, a very human, very naked (except for his blindfold) Gojo was sitting on the exam table, a wide grin on his face.

“Gojo Sensei! You’re back,” Itadori exclaimed.

“I could’ve gone my whole life without seeing That,” Fushiguro complained.

“Good, now I can go back to relaxing,” said Maki.

“Salmon roe,” said Inumaki, giving Gojo a thumbs up. 

“C’mon guys, let’s give him some space,” said Panda, waving the others towards the infirmary exit. 

“Oh, god, I’m gonna need so much therapy,” groaned Kugisaki, rubbing her temples.

-fin-

[soulofgenocide]

Cano-appearence

So, Genocide was never supposed to be this stick ripped guy, I mean he quite literally played football in high school and had a body sturdy enough to survive an IED. However, I love the Mikoto Suoh face claim and will be continuing to use it, but I'm going to place it down here in writing what exactly Genocide looks like in his human form.

Below the cut is photos & description

Genocide's human form (Richard) has a body type similar to the current Kratos from God of War, except Genocide is a lil bit more 'swol' especially around the arms as his Greatsword is insanely heavy.

Pretty decently large difference between Mikoto and Kratos, like how Mikoto has negative body fat, but quite simply just place Mikoto's head on Kratos body and you've got what he actually looks like. I'd do a cursed edit, but I don't really want to experience that either.

Description:

Richard stands are a towering 7'4", starting from his fluffy blood red hair with a little horn and cracked base of one inside to his amber eyes, and a seemingly permeant five o'clock shadow around his jaw. It's all resting on an angled face with a somewhat pale flesh around it, as the poor guy barely sees the sun. Just below are a pair of broad shoulders, with typically a fur collared coat and a red t-shirt hiding his torso, though on a good stretch one could see the muscular body beneath. Rather than a ripped body builder physique he has one of a fighter, muscle and that little bit of fat to help take the blows, wide enough he could grip anyone in a hug and crush them. A nice pair of black jeans are directly below, covering fairly muscular legs which reach obscene lengths for a human. When Richard speaks it is a deep, but clear voice and only being changed if he were to be flustered in which his 'natural' accent comes out and he speaks more in line with a Brit. (His British mother is the one who taught him speaking, writing, so he just copied her. )

Basically, just imagine this face but with Kratos bod.

[quirkythequill]

The Mayor's supposed pet, "Charlie Lil Boyz"

Explosive Debate Unleashed: Are Guinea Pigs Real, or Just a Global Hoax? Shocking Interviews Fuel Controversy

In a conspiracy that has left pet store shelves empty and backyard cages abandoned, a heated debate is raging: Are guinea pigs real, or have they been an elaborate global hoax? Shocking interviews with alleged guinea pig witnesses and skeptics alike are fueling the controversy.

Interview with a Guinea Pig Believer:

Madison Whiskertail, a self-proclaimed guinea pig enthusiast, shared her conviction that these furry creatures are nothing but figments of our imagination. "I've seen them on social media, but have you ever met someone who has actually seen a guinea pig in person? It's all an elaborate ruse," insisted Whiskertail.

She went on to describe her theory that guinea pigs are CGI creations carefully planted in photos to create the illusion of their existence. "Think about it—how can something that cute and fluffy be real? It's clearly too good to be true!"

Interview with a Skeptical Scientist:

Dr. Leonard Scepticus, a skeptical scientist specializing in Unverified Animal Existence, argued that the guinea pig debate is a colossal distraction. "People are so caught up in the guinea pig narrative that they're overlooking real issues like the existence of narwhals or whether llamas are, in fact, secret agents," expressed Dr. Scepticus, raising an eyebrow.

He dismissed guinea pig sightings as mass hysteria fueled by the desire for adorable pets and suggested that people might be projecting their desire for companionship onto imaginary creatures.

Guinea Pigs Speak Out:

In an exclusive interview, two alleged guinea pigs, Fluffington and Snugglebuns, vehemently denied the conspiracy theories. "We're real, okay? Just because you can't find us in the wild doesn't mean we're a hoax. We're just really good at hide-and-seek," declared Fluffington, with Snugglebuns nodding in agreement.

As the guinea pig debate rages on, social media is ablaze with memes featuring elusive guinea pigs and hashtags like #ProbablyRealPigs and #GuineaGossip trending worldwide. The world awaits the definitive answer to this fluff-filled mystery.

---

About the Author:

Sam Scuttlebutt

Sam Scuttlebutt, a Ph.D. holder in Conspiracy Mysteries, has been unraveling the threads of absurdity since the days when tin foil hats were considered high fashion. Known for turning conspiracies into comedic narratives, Scuttlebutt possesses a knack for making even the wildest theories ripple in the lake of history. When not chasing conspiracies, Scuttlebutt can be found teaching fingerprinting to cryptids or hosting earth science to skeptical extraterrestrials. Because sometimes, the truth is funnier than fiction.

[hanibalistic]

I reread celestial strings pt 1 and 2 and back then when i first read it i was way too shy to say anything but now i am changed and LEMME JUST

the way i smiled at my phone like an idiot and giggled and cooed AND CLUTCHED MY HEART

im really looking for pt 3 of it bc its just so so so good and my heart just breaks for them at the end of pt 2 (begging for a happy ending for them BC THEY HAVE TO BE HAPPY TGT LIKE WDYM)

(the amounts of times i clutched to my cat bc it was so cute and when it was so heartbreaking)

also would you consider expanding this universe when this series is finished? like I can imagine a cute fluffy series for Felix too. His thing about love and soulmates is just so 🥹🥹🥹 LIKE IT FEELS LIKE HE DESERVES HIS OWN LOVE STORY TOO YK

anyways your an amazing writer and im starting to get self conscious and shy abt sending such a long thing to you

gskshkddh WAIT SORRY TO BOTHER but also the celestial strings links atm are like a lil broken cause it directs me to the web version of tumblr as opposed to the app honestly its fine if you dont fix it but just to let you know

here’s the cat that I CLUTCHED AND BASICALLY MANHANDLED bc the story was giving me too many emotions (shes fine and actually really happy abt it tho like shes is an extremely clingy cat)

hopefully this brightens your day like how celestial strings brightened mine <3

hello there! how wonderful for you (and your cat! whose name i don't know so pray tell!) to drop by ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

thank you so much for reading celestial strings, that story is my absolute baby and always will be (っ- ‸ - ς) i can't even remember how that story came to life in my head, it kind of just did, and it was surprising i managed to finish that story at all the first time i posted it because i am having a lot of issue with writing it now. i don't know what you meant exactly by the first time you read it, but (if you know) the original version of it has a happy ending, which is not happening (๑ᵔ⤙ᵔ๑) the two main reasons why i decided to reupload celestial strings on here blog is because (1) i love the story a lot so i wanted it up, and (2) to give it the ending i wanted it to have, which is arguably a non-happy one!

i actually have expanded the universe in my own time! i mainly worked on the magic system + minho's family, though. i don't think i would write something long for the extra characters in the story. and even though the way this new version ends would seem like it's setting up for a sequel (i suppose? it will depend on the way i write it!), i don't think i will ever write one. i have a track record of writing blurbs for characters within a universe, though, so cs!felix will still appear occasionally.

the links are weird! i don't know why tumblr is doing this even when i didn't insert the web links on the masterlist (·•᷄‎ࡇ•᷅ ) it's been doing that for other links too. i will see what i can do though,,,

[ficthots]

Statute of Limitations

A/N: Cute lil turkey day fic. As always let me know what you guys think and enjoy!

Warnings: SMUT. DNI if you are under 18. 18+ only.

Word Count: 7.4k+

The holidays can evoke many emotions that someone would not expect nor want. Thanksgiving was notorious for being the holiday where family members got in vicious spats over rivaling political ideologies. Christmas brought on dreaded yearning for loved ones who have since departed your life in one way or another. New Years held bouts of loneliness over your shoulders as you watched on as couples and strangers alike connected in a kiss to ring in the new year.

Many feelings that were not always welcome guests during this time of year. However, it was always easier to manage when you were surrounded by people who were in the same place you were in life. In fact, when it was your best friend, you wouldn’t even notice these waves of varying mental states because they were entertaining you and keeping you afloat. 

More than afloat. Joyous. Elated. Hopeful. Content. 

But that is to be discussed at a later time. 

You were frantically running around the house, trying to make sure that everything was where it should be. That everything was going according to schedule. That everything was perfect. Because it was supposed to be. Had to be.

“Turkey will be done at five forty-five. Candles will be lit at five-forty. Bar area is stocked and ready. Name cards. Where are the name cards?” Your eyes darted up from your crumpled list that sat in your hands, pen marking off items as you mumbled out loud to yourself, beginning the search for the name cards.

His curly head bopped down the stairs, seeing you hunting around the house for what he already knew was in hands. He held up the brown paper, smile growing as he did. “Name cards? Got ‘em right here, hammy.” A breath of relief tumbled from your lips as you watched him go around the large dining table and place the cards where they were supposed to be. 

You trailed behind him, slightly moving and adjusting them to be where they actually should have been. He stopped in his tracks when he noticed what you were doing, turning and facing you with his hands on his hips. “They looked just fine where they were.”

Wiping your hands on your pants after taking some lint off of a napkin, you weren’t looking at him as your eyes scanned the table for any other imperfections that you could immediately see. As you went to slightly move a pillar candle two inches to the left, his hand darted out and captured yours in his, drawing your attention to him.

He offered you a large smile, hands moving to cup your cheeks as he did. “Everyone’s going to be here within an hour, hammy. Why don’t you head upstairs and start getting ready, yeah? Your clothes are laid out on my bed, your bathroom stuff is on the counter, I can handle what’s left down here.” Reluctantly agreeing with him, his hands turning you around and in the direction of the stairs, you kept turning, not really ready to hand over the full responsibility of him taking over for the last forty-five minutes. 

“Go!” He shouted, hands shooing you away, laughter following his words as you pouted your way up the stairs. Just like he said, your outfit was laid out across the bedding, your personal care items atop the counter in the bathroom, a fluffy towel hanging on the rack to greet you. 

He knew you would be flustered with planning out every miniscule detail you could for this dinner so he took it upon himself to make sure the other aspects did not fall through the cracks, simply making sure you were taken care of. 

Josh always made sure you were taken care of. That’s why he’s your best friend and whom you love the absolute most in the world. Truly, you could not imagine a life without the ball of sunshine that was Joshua by your side. 

He had been in your life for years, originally meeting him through Danny, but there was something about him. You two meshed so well, becoming close in high school and hardly being separated from them on out. 

As you all grew older, new traditions popped up and stuck with your small group. One of those traditions was the annual Thanksgiving supper. Each year was a rotation between the couples of the group. Each pairing hosted at their own home with an immaculate table scape and menu to accompany along with a new tradition that would happen at their home. 

It was fun, lighthearted, and a reason for everyone to see one another during the holidays. Given you are one of the two singles in the group, the other being your best friend, the burden fell on your shoulders this year. A group text message revealed that everyone else had decided to partner you up and to be ready to host the soiree of the year at one of your houses. 

Planning began immediately, beyond infuriated that everyone took pity on the two lonesome creatures of the posse and you decided that you were going to put them all to shame, hosting the best bash they had seen yet. 

Josh was just along for the ride, happy to be included in whatever you needed from him. You had been staying at his house for the last two days as you prepped for the upcoming party, doing as much ahead of time as possible. He was there, right behind you, reminding you to take a breath, sit down, and eat some actual food every once in a while.

He knew how type a you could be, incredibly anal about the details of it all, because once you set your mind to it, he knew it was going to be done, sparing no expense of yourself. He had seen in the past how you could and would schedule your life down to the last second, wanting any and all control over any situations you found yourself in. Josh would watch as you would forget the littlest things to survive, like sleep, and would gently guide you into the direction he knew you needed to go. He would ensure that you were being taken care of. That’s who he is. 

This wasn’t the first time he had seen you like this and he knew it would not be the last either. As long as he was there besides you, he would be happy as a clam to aid you in whatever way he knew how to. To make sure that you would slow down and enjoy what life was offering, tonight was going to be no different. 

Josh wanted you to see what you had spent weeks obsessing over and notice how beautiful it had all turned out. Your goal had succeeded, this was going to the best gathering that had happened yet. All he wanted was for you to see that. To see how magnificent it was. How magnificent you were. 

As he finished moving the chairs to where they needed to be, basting the turkey once more, playing the music you had meticulously picked out for the evening, he heard you come bounding down the stairs. He couldn’t help but beam at you, seeing how radiant you looked in only the dim lighting and candlelight from the room that set the table aglow. 

Attempting to swallow his heart back down from his throat, a blush crept onto the apples of his cheeks as you smiled at him. He couldn’t hold your gaze any longer, eyes darting down to the record he held in his hand, hearing your gasp as you took in the space. 

“It’s unbelievable, Josh. Look at this! Oh, it’s perfect,” you squealed out as you moved around the space, double checking whatever you could. As you checked the watch on your wrist for the time, your eyes went wide, shooting up in a panic at him.

“I basted the turkey four and a half minutes ago. It looks devine, hammy,” he could see the relief actually roll off your shoulders at that. A small grin took over your lips, a silent thank you being shared between the two of you. 

When the first knock of the night came in, he watched you shoot up straight, hands clasping together in front of your chest, excitement tangible from you as you rushed around the table to link your arm through with his. 

“Ready handsome?” You leaned into his side as you spoke out, head lightly resting against his own. He couldn’t respond to your words, only offering a quick nod as he moved you both to the door. 

As he opened the door as dramatically as he could on the left, you still holding onto his arm, blocking the entryway so they couldn’t entirely see what was behind you both, he gave a large grin. 

“Welcome one and all! We are so pleased you could join us at the twenty twenty two Thanksgiving celebration. Now, I hope you all came prepared to witness the best of the best because that is what we have offered you. Please, help yourself to the bar and chat amongst yourselves,” as Josh finished his small speech, everyone giggling at his words, the laughter stopped as soon as you both stepped out of the way. 

Greenery was hung and wrapped around the wooden beams, candlelight danced on the walls, and no one could seem to figure out where to look first. You were beaming with pride as Josh shot you a quick wink, knowing all of your meticulous planning had turned out as immaculately as you had hoped it would.

Drinks were flowing right after and given that everyone hadn't really eaten anything but the hors d'oeuvres you had set out as everyone started mingling, your guests were growing tipsier by the minute. Just as you had planned. 

As the dinner bell rang, signaling it was time for everyone to find their seats, a chorus of oo’s and ah’s flew around the room as Josh brought the turkey and ham to the table. Applause rang out into the room as you and your party partner thanked everyone, Josh pointing to you and speaking out that this was all your doing. 

“Before we eat, we are ready to share our tradition that will happen at every Thanksgiving we are set to host.” You sipped your drink as you finished speaking, pointing to Josh across the table as he sat at the other head spot and urged him to start. Heads bounced back and forth between you both as you giggled out to him.

“This was Josh’s idea so I think it’s only fair he shares what it is and he has to start!” He rolled his eyes at your words, smirking into his glass as he did. “Fine, fine. Our tradition is that instead of everyone saying what they are thankful for this year you must divulge one secret! Statute of limitations applies to whatever is shared so there is immunity!” Eyes around the table went wide, some excitedly shouting out that they loved the idea, others collectively groaning with one another. 

His smile grew, eyes going wide as he peered at you, clearing his throat as he finished his drink, standing from the table and over animatedly began telling his secret. “Once upon a time,” his brother groaned as he started, trying and failing to trip his sibling as he made his way around the table. “Come on, just tell your secret!”

Josh shushed him, flicking his ear as he did. “Shut up. It’s my turn to speak.” Sam rolled his eyes at his brother, letting him continue his tale. Josh cleared his throat as loudly as he could, continuing on where he had started. “In a time far from the one we are in now,” he moved to stand directly behind his twin, hands landing on his shoulders as he did. 

“I pretended to be this devilishly handsome fellow here,” he bent over, cheek smashed against cheek before standing back upright as quickly as he had knelt over, “To take out Jessica Park on a date where the entire time she thought I was my twin. I did however get lucky that night! It was quite weird hearing her moan out my brother's name whilst I was in bed with her, but I digress.” He plopped back in his seat, everyone laughing and howling at his confession, clapping and cheering for him. 

Jake eyed his brother, set on murdering him in that moment from the sheer look he sent his way before he spoke up. “You knew I had a massive thing for her, you jackass.” Josh shrugged with a laugh as he poured himself a glass of wine. “Oh I am fully aware of that. She had a thing for you, not me, which is why I was you for the evening.” His lazy smile graced his face as you snickered behind your glass. 

Josh clapped his hands together, eyeing the dining room table and its occupants before selecting the next person who needed to confess their secret. 

Tears streamed down everyone's faces at the stories being shared. When Danny finished, he sipped his drink contents, a shrug accompanying his final words. “I swear it’s true.” He set his glass down on the table, surveying who was left and needed to share. His gaze fell to you, a smile taking over his face as he looked at you. 

“Last, but certainly not least, my dearest friend. What is your secret?” You sighed, seeing the giddy look of Josh to see if he was going to discover some new information about you or if it was information he had already filed away in the folder about you in his head. 

Looking out over your friends from behind your glass, you took one last swig for confidence, eyes setting on Jake as you set the glass down. You leaned forward on the table, seeing the unremarkable similarities between him and his twin, but noticing how insanely different they were. As the candlelight held their features, your heart swelled at the sight of Josh and the adoring look that graced his face as he waited with baited breath to hear what you were going to reveal. 

Eyes falling back to his counterpart, you spoke out with a laugh. “Jakey, I am the one who hit your car, not Josh.” His eyes narrowed at you before turning his attention to his brother, Josh’s jaw hanging open at your words. Everyone sat in utter silence, waiting to hear what his reaction was going to be.

“No, Josh did. I saw him in the driver's seat.” You couldn’t contain your giggles, liquid courage assisting in your tale. “He switched seats with me. It was me,” Jake shook his head, cradling his face in his own hands as he roughly rubbed, a long groan following it. Everyone’s laughter picked up right after as his shoulders started to shake from his own laughing. 

Josh stood, grabbing the carving knife as he did. “Alright, I think that is enough secrets for the next decade. Who wants turkey?” Plates were shoved in his face after his question, earning an exasperated sigh from the boy. “Wait your turn! Hammy, you first.”

When the last of the guests filed out of the house for the night, you collapsed into a heap on the couch, a yawn escaping your lips as you did. Josh couldn’t fight the smile that was taking over his face at the sight of you. 

He lifted your legs, placing them tentatively in his lap as he did. He poked your cheek, leaning back on the couch, a sleepy smile taking over his face. “I would say that was a success. I don’t think I will be able to eat again for the rest of the week. Which is probably for the best since there aren’t any leftovers.” His hand rubbed along his slightly pooched stomach, rolling your eyes at his flair for the over dramatic. 

“Thank you for the help, Joshy. It was a great night,” he shrugged, hand rubbing along the bare expanse of your calf, eyes slipping shut as he breathed out. “It was all you, ham. You did amazing. Seriously, the best one we’ve had yet. I heard Jita saying she wasn’t sure how she was going to top you next year,” you giggled at his words, happy that it had been such a hit. 

“Can I ask you a question?” You hummed at him, letting him know he could continue on. “What other secrets do you have? I feel like I got cheated out of one because I already knew about the one you shared.” You peeked an eye open at him, seeing his excited gaze staring down at you. 

You thought about it for a second, turning onto your back and staring at him. “Fine. But I get another secret from you. Deal?” He thought about it for a second before agreeing with you. You sighed in thought, trying to figure out what you could share with him. 

A sheepish smile took over your face as you thought about what to say. “I have this coworker. I hate him. Ever since I met him he was super misogynistic towards me. Called me sweetheart, sugar, the whole nine yards at work. I decided that I had had enough of it and took it upon myself to secretly do things to annoy him every single day.” Laughter wracked your body at Josh’s shocked expression.

His own chuckles seeped into his words, hands still firmly planted on your legs. “What do you do to him?” You shrugged, thinking back to what you had done to him as of late. “I move his food and drinks in the fridge. Like I’ll hide them. I wear my badge as a lanyard because the rattling of it drives him insane. If he walks by me I’ll whisper his name out with some occasional name calling just loud enough for him to hear, but I act dumb when he asks me if I heard that. I also move his coffee cup throughout the office so he can never find it. Oh, one time I took all of the trash wrappers I could and placed them on his desk. Everyone else hates him too.”

Josh was hunched over in tears, snorts falling from his lips at your admission. Your snickers matched his as he calmed back down, wiping at his eyes. “Wow. That’s amazing. What are you going to do when he finds out?” You reached your hand out, pushing fallen curls from his forehead back up.

“I have you to beat him up for me,” his face went serious as your words settled over him. “Baby, you see me right? I mean I’d give it a shot, but I can make no promises here.” Your laughter roared over his voice, his own nervous giggles mixing. “I’m serious! How big is this guy?” You were trying to catch your breath at his words, hearing his worried tone seep out more than he would’ve liked to admit. 

You poked him with your bare foot as you relaxed back into a calmer state. “Your turn. Another secret and make it a good one!” He drummed along your leg, searching his mind for a secret he had yet to share with you. It was difficult seeing as he shared every detail of his life with you that he possibly could, but as he settled on one, you watched guilt take him over.

“Alright, but I’m not very proud of this one, okay? When I was little I would steal money from my grandma,” your jaw fell slack at his words, eyes as big as saucers at his words. “No, no, it’s not as bad as that! She had this jug that she would put loose change in and I would take the change, bring it to her, and she would be so proud of me for saving change that she would exchange it for paper money, and I would get ice cream.” He scratched the back of his neck as he finished, clearly guilt ridden with what he would do as a child.

Being his best friend meant making it worse. “Wow, Josh, that’s horrible. I can’t believe you stole from your grandma. You’re going to hell for that, you know that right?” You could see how sad he was getting from sharing that secret, knowing that it was most likely one of his deepest and darkest secrets he ever had. It was adorable.

You sat up, moving to almost sit in his lap, cupping his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you. “Joshy, I’m messing with you. You were a kid. It’s okay, I promise.” You were stifling laughter, his cheeks and the tips of his ears burned bright red as you leaned forward placing a quick peck to the tip of his nose. 

Seeing that he was still feeling bad, you fought within yourself about telling him this next secret. “Okay. I’ll tell you one of my deepest secrets if you promise to keep it a secret, okay?” His eyes fell to you, nodding slowly as you removed your legs from his lap, sitting directly next to him as you got the courage to tell this. “You have to tell me another one first though.” He groaned, head hitting the back of the couch at your words. 

His tongue darted out and wet his lips, deciding that in order to hear this juicy secret of yours he was going to have to share another one with you. He cleared his throat, trying to determine which direction this could go in. “When I was like fifteen I was watching dirty stuff on the computer,” you chuckled at his words, cutting him off as he spoke, “As one does.”

He nudged you with a laugh of his own. “Let me finish! Anyways, Sam came into the room and saw what I was watching, ran and told mom, mom came storming into the room pissed. I’m in a panic, knowing I need to come up with something quick and I do. I told her it was a popup on the computer and I couldn’t get it down.” You were gasping for air at his story, heads almost pushed together as his brilliant smile shown at you, happy to see you were enjoying his utter embarrassment from his teen years. 

Playing with his fingers, he chuckled after seeing you weren't going to speak yet. “Your turn. Tell me a secret,” he was speaking softer, almost in a whisper as he came back to reality.

“No one knows this. Literally no one,” his brows furrowed, seeing how nervous you were getting, peeking his interest as you gnawed on your lip. “I almost didn’t graduate from college.” Josh’s eyes went wide, but as he went to speak you held your hand up to him. “That’s not even the worst of it.”

He settled back down, waiting for you to continue. “I was failing one of my classes. It was two weeks to graduation and the only way I was going to pass was if I got a two hundred percent on the final. So, I went to my professor's office hours to talk to him about what I could do to pass. This man was one of the most gorgeous men I have ever encountered before in my life. One thing led to another and I ended up sleeping with him.” 

You had never seen such a shocked expression take over his face. You giggled at it, feeling a million pounds lighter after being able to share that with someone after all this time. “It wasn’t even for the grade, which is the crazy part. I did however end up graduating and walking two weeks later.” He started laughing with you, in awe of the confession you had just divulged. 

Hearing that you had slept with one of your professors was a shock in itself, but he wasn’t sure why he felt a growing bulge in his pants. Imagining you with a professor, telling them you would do anything you could to pass the class and graduate. It was hot.

Adjusting himself as nonchalantly as he possibly could, you caught your breath, realizing how close to Josh you were in that second. His eyes darted down to your lips, smile still as prevalent as ever, dimples deep as happiness coursed through him at being able to share this space with you. 

“It was bad. I shouldn’t have done it.” You whispered out, your breath fanning across his lips, seeing his pants grow tighter at your words. He shook his head, tongue moving across his bottom lip, “No you shouldn’t have.” His voice was huskier than before, going a touch deeper, lust fluttering with his words. 

He was psyching himself out, almost unable to be sure if this was real, having wanted this for so long and you not feeling the same he wasn’t sure if this was real. If you were real at this moment. 

Your smile was small, battling within yourself if you wanted to take this next step. Cross this threshold with him. For him. Josh had never shown true interest in you, you thought to yourself. Maybe it was the alcohol buzzing through you that gave you an extra boost of confidence because you threw caution to the wind, leaning forward, lightly letting your lips feel his. 

Not hesitating, he deepend it, hand cupping the back of your neck, pulling you to him and tongue pushing into your mouth with haste. 

Whimpering into his mouth, feeling the plushness of his lips push back against your own, clawing at him to get him as close as possible. Swallowing each other in any and every way you possibly could. 

Years of tension, angst, yearning had built up to this moment. This singular moment that you could have bursted into tears for. That you spent countless nights dreaming about. 

About him.

It took all the strength you had to pull away from him, both heaving and watching the rise and fall of each other's chests. You wanted to give him once more chance, one more opportunity to turn this down. To think twice. 

While you knew that this is what you had been craving since you were young, you couldn’t make that assumption for him. Your eyes danced across his features, his kiss swollen lips bright red as he eyed you in utter confusion. 

“I’m going to go upstairs and change into my pajamas.” Was all you said to him. Squeezing his hand briefly, a silent telling of what you were asking of him. 

Josh didn’t have a second thought in his mind. He watched you ascend the stairs, right into his room, as the door clicked behind you, he bounded up them two at a time to reach you. 

There wasn’t a single possibility in which he would let this go. Let you go. He opened the door and saw your dress pooled around your feet, a breath of relief expelled from your lungs seeing that he in fact wanted this just as much as you, if not more. 

He crossed the room to you, attacking your skin with his searing kisses. You had just caught your breath and instantaneously it had been knocked out of you as you felt his hands paw at you. 

Your head lolled to the side, greeting him with the entire expanse of your neck. He nipped, sucked, and licked the soothing marks he was leaving behind. Wanting to create a lasting memory of tonight on you. 

Knees hitting the edge of the bed, you sat, eyes boring into his as he stared down at you. Your doe-like eyes screamed at him all you had been wanting to say for years. His heart was doing somersaults in his chest. 

Peeling off layer after layer of his clothes, you watched. Of course you had seen his naked torso. Plenty of times. Countless times. 

But this was different. 

Vastly different. 

Seeing the pink tint that sat on his skin, how his chest rose and fell with short breaths, his stomach caved in as you touched his hip bone. It was the most intimate you could be. 

His bulge greeted your hand as you moved it further south. Eyes slipping shut, lips parted, unable to watch your movements, too entranced in what you were doing to him. 

Moving his briefs down, his hardened cock greeted you. The swollen and leaking tip, a bright pink that perfectly accompanied his lips, the few veins that trailed along the shaft, the kept bush at the base. He was gorgeous. 

Taking him in for a brief moment as your hand firmly held him, you felt like you could cry tears of joy. This man was beautiful. A complete wonder. 

You lightly traced the slit of his tip with your tongue, watching as his eyes fluttered behind closed eyelids. Not wanting to waste anymore time, you accepted him in the warm embrace of your mouth. 

Relaxing your jaw to take as much of him as you could, he whimpered out, a cry escaping his lips at the feeling of bliss you gave him. It was almost painful how good it felt. 

You moved up and down his length, hand working the base of him when you moved back towards the tip, his hand tangled in your locks, cradling the back of your head and guiding your motions. 

Normally, Josh was a much more vocal partner, but given how in shock he was with what was happening before him, he was silent. Worried that if he spoke anything, he would either finish too fast or scare you off. 

He eventually had to pull you off, growing too close to his release. “Not yet, please.” You smiled up at him and he could’ve had a heart attack right then. Seeing his cock in your hand, right next to the breathtaking smile you gave him, it was a true sight to see. 

Pushing you to lay down flat on his sheets, he savored your naked frame that waited with anticipation for him. He didn’t want to make you wait. He didn’t want to wait any longer. 

The head of his cock moved through your folds, and if he hadn’t held back, he was sure he would’ve bursted on you right then. He was like a teenager again, worried that he would cum too fast and ruin it all for you both. 

As he pushed into you, the moan that left your lips was simply pornographic. It sent a shiver down his spine, knowing he was the one bringing those noises from you. He was who was bringing you to the verge of tears because of how amazing this felt as he thrusted in and out of you with an earth shattering pace. 

Your legs wrapped around his waist, bringing him closer to you, allowing him to sit even further in your tight heat. He stuttered, curls stuck to his damp forehead. “Cum in me, Joshy. I want you to cum in me pretty boy,” he finished immediately after, sending you into your own mind numbing orgasm. 

Your body was in a constant tremor as you came back down, breath stuttering out of you, feeling your damp body sticking to his as he tried to gain the strength to open his eyes to see the beauty that was before him. 

Neither of you said any words, his forehead nudged yours, pushing your head back to let him capture your lips with his. He hesitated getting up at all, but he knew you both needed to shower, exhaustion riddling both of your bodies after the events of the day and evening. 

When you returned to bed together, without a second thought, you clung to him, head resting on his chest. His heart rate increased, unsure what entirely he needed or wanted to do in the moment. Something had shifted between you two, but he wasn’t sure what to do to maneuver through it just yet. 

His eyes started to slip shut when he heard your sleep riddled voice speak out to him, pulling him back from the brink of unconsciousness. “Joshy?” His hand rubbed along the bare skin of your back, letting you know without words that he was listening. 

“Why did you switch spots with me?”

Strike

Your irritated gaze fell on him as he turned around, a large goofy grin taking over his features at you. “Your turn, hammy.” You mumbled under your breath, knowing you were over sixty points behind him, just wanting the game to end. 

You were a sore loser. You admitted that and took pride in it. Losing was not your thing. You had to be the best at everything and if you weren’t right away, you hated whatever activity it was that put you behind others. 

This time? It was bowling with your best friend.

He was just so good. You had no idea how he had seemingly become a professional bowler, but it was irritating. If he wasn’t throwing a strike, he was getting spares left and right. He wasn’t even trying that hard either!

Throwing another gutter ball, Josh’s snicker came from behind you. You turned on your heel, shooting daggers at him, but he sighed, standing and coming towards you. “Let me show you how to do this.” 

Trying to say no didn’t work because he stood right next to you, showing how your arm should’ve looked instead of it turning over like it was. As you did it again, he shook his head. “No, like this.” He showed you again, but your arm turned over on itself.

Josh moved behind you, pressing his body against yours, feeling the warmth emanate from him. His scent of patchouli and vanilla filled your senses, his hand coming up and covering yours, forcing your arm back and forth.

He was trying to focus on getting you to throw the ball how it was supposed to, but all he could think about was how close he was to you. Your hair brushing against his cheek, how cold your hand was as it cradled the ball, the cotton of your shirt rubbing against his bare arm, your smell of coffee and cinnamon. It was enthralling. 

When you released the ball, watching it knock down all of the pins, his smile grew as he watched how excited you got at it. Turning around and wrapping your arms around his neck, squealing in pure joy, he was shocked, not even having seen you throw the strike, only able to focus on you. 

Arms wrapping around your torso, squeezing ever so slightly, he was on cloud nine. You hugged him. Him. Josh. He had never thanked a god more than he did at that moment. 

His eyes were darting around the backstage space, trying to find you. You had disappeared five minutes ago after telling him you would be right back and he was due on stage any second now. He wanted to see you just one more time. 

As his brothers began making their way out, he assured them he would only be a few seconds behind. When you rounded the corner, a breath of relief flew from his lips. Your eyes lit up as you saw him decked out in his onstage garb. The screams of the crowd were deafening as you took him in.

Walking up to him, hands on your hips, a low whistle following. “Well I must say, you look dashing.” His cheeks burned at your scrutinizing gaze. Closing the gap between you two, your chest was pressed against his, a smile taking over your face as you held out a small piece of ribbon to him. 

“This is what I went to grab. You gave me this during my first tennis match on the varsity team my junior year of high school. Told me that it would soothe my nerves and that you’d be with me, channeling your attention seeking ways, so I wouldn’t be nervous in front of anyone.” He could’ve collapsed right then, turning his wrist over and tying the velvet orange ribbon to his wrist with a small smile. 

“Don’t remember the attention seeking ways portion,” he mumbled out, but you shrugged at that with a small giggle. “I might have added that in.” When he went to say something else, feeling like it was the perfect moment, the moment he had been waiting for all those years as you peered up at him, eyes dancing with an emotion he was sure was directed at him, his name was yelled from behind you both, causing you to jump back and away from him. 

You gave a brighter smile that diminished as you took in his hair. “Go get ‘em. I’ll be watching, but hold on,” as you went to fix it, he was being grabbed and ran on stage so you caught his eye and told him where it needed to be smoothed and he did it. Shooting you a thankful wink as he did. 

“If you could see that I’m the one who understands you, been here all along, so, why can’t you see, you belong with me?” You were belting the lyrics as you drove back towards the Kiszka family home, your best friend in the passenger seat next to you. 

He rolled his eyes, not joining in with your singing of Taylor Swift as it blared through the speaker. You two had run to Walmart, grabbing snacks and drinks for a movie night together, and now as you pulled back into the driveway, you were giddy with excitement to watch The Purge. 

You don’t know how it happened, but when you felt the car jolt after putting it in park and knock into the car sitting directly in front of you, your eyes went wide. Your head shot to the side, seeing the shocked expression of Josh in your passenger seat. 

He erupted into a fit of laughter as you hopped out of the car, going to survey the damage. It wasn’t much really, hardly a scratch, but you knew Jake would see it. He was going to be livid. He was going to hate you.

That car was his baby. It was his everything. He was going to murder you and then hate you for all eternity after. Your chin wobbled, eyes filling with tears as you went around to Josh’s side of the car. “Josh, what do I do?” 

He wiped the stray tears, trying to catch his breath. “Nothing, hammy. What’s done is done. God, Jake is gonna murder you.” He hadn’t taken in your expression yet, but a sense of happiness coursed through him.

Maybe if Jake did in fact yell at her and hate her, her little crush on his twin would diminish. I mean it was a slap in the face really. His twin? His spitting image? His opposite? Come on. 

But when his head turned and saw the tracks your tears were leaving as you sniffled quietly, his heart actively broke. He didn’t realize how upset you truly were, but he fought within himself about what to do. 

Pushing you to the side, he quickly made up his mind. “Get in the passenger seat,” your brows furrowed, fresh tears still falling as you wiped at your cheeks.  “Wha-what?” You mumbled. 

Josh grabbed you, pushing you into the seat. “Hurry, he’s going to be out any minute. Just sit there, stop crying, and let me do the talking.” As you went to tell him no and to let you take the blame, he hurried around to the drivers side and sat down. 

His twin appeared in the front door, coming down the steps to where you two were. His eyes went wide as he took in the sight before him. Josh quickly whispered to you as he made his way to the door. “Keep quiet, okay?” 

The door was pulled open, eyes wild with fury. “Are you fucking kidding me, Josh? Are you actually fucking kidding me? You hit my fucking car? Are you that much of an imbecile that you couldn’t see that there was another car in front of you?” Josh rolled his eyes at his brother's anger.

“Relax, dude. It’s not even that bad. I’ll pay for it.” Your eyes went wide, shaking your head at Josh, Jake’s back facing you in the car. He lightly held his hand up, silently telling you to stay where you were. 

“Damn right you will. Fucking idiot,” his brother retreated from the driveway and back into the house with a slam of the door behind him. A shaky breath expelled from your lungs as you looked at Josh. 

“I’m so sorry, Joshy. I will pay for it.” He gave you the most gentle smile you had ever seen in your life as he went to the backseat, grabbing the grocery bags and nodding towards the house. “Don’t worry about it, hammy. He’ll be fine in the morning. Come on, let’s go watch the movie.”

As Josh waited for you near the hood of the car, you had no idea what was going on in the turmoil of your brain, but as you took in the skinny boy, a warmth blossomed in your chest. Gratitude? Relief? Whatever it was, you shook it off, not wanting to pay much more in mind to what it was. 

His light laugh echoed into the quiet room. “I knew you had a crush on Jake at the time. You were so petrified that he would hate you that I knew I needed to take the fall,” your sat upright in the bed, wrapping the blanket around yourself as you did, eyes looking down at him in pure shock. 

“I mainly did it to get you to stop crying,” he hesitated as he tried to decide if now was the time to tell you this. Share his deepest secret he had. “But I was so in love with you that I didn’t want to see you so upset. So we switched.” He finished with a shrug, nerves rattling him. 

He had said it. It was out in the open now. Up to you to decide how to play this out. 

“You liked me?” It was a whisper shared out in disbelief at what he had just said to you. He laughed, pearly white teeth sitting on his lip as he nodded. “Still do, hammy.” His eyes moved up to meet yours, seeing them flutter as you let the words sink in. 

Not knowing what else to say back to him, heart overwhelmed with the notion that even back when you two were teenagers he was so in love with you that he was willing to take the fall for a car accident that you caused, and now as you admired the gorgeous man below you, you could only jump him. 

Landing on top of him, placing kisses anywhere you could land on his skin, his laugh bellowed out into the room, arms wrapping around you and holding you flush against him. His hand held your face still, letting your lips dance together.

His fingers tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, a light smile coming out as he admired your beauty from this close. “You know they set this up right? Danny said it was their plan all along. They were tired of not seeing us together,” Josh spoke out, breaking the peaceful silence that had settled over you both. 

Laughter shook both your bodies, your head falling forward, resting your forehead on his bare chest. “Of course. God, we were pretty oblivious, huh?” He nodded, but finished with a small shrug. 

“Yeah, but now we get to make up for all that lost time.” A small squeal flew from you as he flipped you both, lips landing on your neck as he did. 

Best friends were there to make things better during the rough times of the holiday season. However, you wouldn’t even notice these waves of varying mental states because they were entertaining you and keeping you afloat. 

More than afloat. Joyous. Elated. Hopeful. Content. 

Wrapping you in pure love that had been trailing behind you for years, just waiting for the right moment to appear after the statute of limitations granted immunity to those sheltered feelings.