#to the anon that was asking how i felt about double d angst

[peachcreekhustler]

"Well excuse my sincerity for thinking I had lost the only two people I have left in this world!"

[swtsupernatural]

D&S W. || NEVER ENOUGH

Dean & Sam Winchester & Winchester! Middle-Sibling! Gender Neutral! Reader

Content Warning Takes place after John's death, no specific episode, just soon after. Swearing, dealing with John's death & grieving, reader throws up once, use of knives and guns, mentions of demons, dean being unable to communicate his feelings

Summary Angst !!! hurt/comfort for reader - Dad died, and all you could think about was how he died not even liking his middle child. You.

W.C. 2.2 k

Ask anon : Could you do something with the Winchester brothers and a Winchester reader? Where the reader is the middle child and is the forgotten one of the family. The reader feels kind of useless compared to Sam and Dean.

Playlist: ♫ I Love You So - The Walters, Better Than Me - The Brobecks, I Know the End - Phoebe Bridgers

A.N. first platonic winchester reader fic ! wrote this sooo fast lol (I think I was projecting even though I'm the oldest child) also I had to include my fav chaotic old man duo in this one...enjoy! - claire <3

Dad was dead. It hadn't been too long since he left, but fuck. He was dead and all you could think of was how much of a shit child you were. You tried your entire life to prove yourself to your dad; but you weren’t Dean; you didn’t follow him blindly, listen to his every order, pick up on hunting skills like it was playing cards. And you weren’t Sam; you weren't booksmart, you didn't have a touch for understanding, and you weren’t as defiant. Yet, it still seems like your whole life that you were your dad’s least favorite. Now you didn’t have Dad, and you felt sick to your stomach that you were almost relieved. It was like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders and another one had been placed in your stomach. Your own father had died and you were relieved. No wonder you were the least favorite. 

When you were younger, you’d been more like Sam. Dean was Dad;s pupil, and to you both it didn’t matter who was second because you were both not your older brother. You’d move to a random small town school,get picked on like Sam did, Dean told you he’d beat them up for you, and then you moved again. Every now and then shit would go down and you’d spend some nights at Bobby’s — and it repeated all over again. Then, Sam had graduated highschool and left you and Dean for Stanford. You and Dean never went into upper education, it hadn’t really crossed either of your minds. Sam was 18, you were 20, and Dean was 22. You’d been out of school for a bit, trying desperately to keep up with Dean and Dad, you were just never as good. You didn’t know anything else, and couldn’t see yourself doing well in any other ‘profession,’ if you could even call it that. A couple weeks after Sam left, you were digging through the trash like a damn raccoon looking for a note cliping you’d accidentally thrown away with some crucial information about your current hunt. You found the sticky note, but it had latched onto a thick, white piece of paper. It was a job application. It was Dean’s. You nearly cried, he wanted to be a firefighter. You were so emotional because you know he totally could; he’d be wonderful at it. But he’d never leave the hunting life, especially not after Sam had “abandoned Dad and us,” as he put it. The heat of the fire brought you back to the stupid forest you’d bought Dad’s body to. The fire was warm, but still not comforting in the slightest despite the chipping cold. Your cheeks were pink, and you could feel your eyes starting to water. This was it.

You began walking with your head down in the opposite direction of the Impala. 

“Where the hell are you going?” Dean’s voice was gruff, his own head and heart in turmoil, showing in his wavering voice. He never sounded like that. It was so uncharacteristic and gazing up at their faces made you sick. They were lit up warm from the fire, both of their green eyes shining, frowns and dirt on their faces. You doubled over by a tree, placing your hand on the tough bark as you threw up your breakfast on the dewy grass. You heard Sam sigh, the thick, uncut grass rusting, a hand coming to your back as he pushed the hair from your face. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes told you everything. He knew more about your struggle with Dad than Dean did. Sam had always been easier to talk to. That’s why you wanted him to leave.

“Sam,” you whispered after wiping your face, “you need to go back to school, dude.” Sam looked down sheepishly.

“Y/N, cmon, you know I was there on scholarship, I–

“And you were also the best in your program, Sam. Dad’s gone. Go back, go make something of your life, please.”

“And what will you do? Keep hunting?”

“What the fuck else am I supposed to do? I’m not good at anything else, Sam! Hell, I’m not even that good a hunter. I’m half the reason he left to go on that stupid hunt in the first place.”

“Don’t start with that, Y/N.” 

“I know it, you know it, and Dean knows it. Just…I need to be alone.”

“No, you don’t.” Dean’s voice came from your left, walking up at a quick pace with his hands in his jacket pockets.

“You don’t get it.” You whispered, and they just heard your small voice.

“What’s there to get?” Dean huffed, shaking his head.

“Dean, knock it off,” Sam muttered.

“What you don’t get, is that Dad never fucking liked me while like he liked you both. And Sam, don’t act like he resents you for leaving or something. He stayed up sighing and reading all those student aid and college billing bullshit because he knew you could do it. And Dean, he always taught you so much more than me because you actually got hunting like he did and knew what you were doing. I was never good at either. I wish I was the one burning in that fucki—

Dean grabbed your shoulders and pushed you against the tree.

“Can you shut up about yourself for two damn seconds when we're at Dad’s funeral? I don’t need you crying about him being a dick when he’s dead. He had funny ways of showing it, but he loved you, Y/N.”

“No he didn’t,” You shoved him off of you, shoving your hands in your coat and huffing out steamy air as you returned to the car. Your brother’s followed you, but you were already lifting the trunk and grabbing your duffle bag. 

“Bye. See ya around.”

“Dean, let them go,” Sam grabbed his arm, stopping his brother from getting to you. “Even I know Dad was always a dick to them.

“C’mon, dude, give ‘em a break, just for now. We’ll call them in a couple days, it’ll be fine.” Dean shook Sam off of him, opening his car door and slamming it aggressively. Sam sighed, getting in the car and watching the black smoke in the rearview mirror flying up into the sky.  __________________________________________

It had been four weeks. Four weeks, two cases solved, 11 missed phone calls from Sam, 6 from Dean, and now you were cornered in a damn demon’s trap. It was 5 against 1, but that didn’t change how useless you felt. You were never as good of a fighter as Sam or Dean, you weren’t as obnoxiously tall or particularly strong. You always felt useless as a child, as a sibling, as a hunter, and as yourself. Of course this would be how you died.

You were at the point of just giving in and calling it quits on your life when a booming BANG rang out. From behind you, two more shots rang out, knives slashing. You didn’t question it, you just acted. You managed to corner the last demon, grabbing his head from behind and shoving your knife in his throat, killing it. You focused your eyes up and saw the last person you were thinking about. But boy, were you glad to see him.

“Bobby?” He crushed you in a big hug, gun in one hand and a first aid bag in the other. 

“Heard’a some weird stuff in this town, deaths and weird figures, figured it was demons. But, when Rufus and I went into the local police office as P.I.s, they said someone with your description already came by,” He grumbled.

“You know how stupid it is to go on a hunt alone when you're young, kid?” Rufus spoke, as his way of greeting you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder in a half-hug. “That’s why I always drag this old man with me in case shit goes down. So I can throw him in the storm and buy myself some time to run.” Bobby rolled his eyes at Rufus’ sarcastic words, and led you both out of the building.

“Why aren’t you with the boys, Y/N?” You sighed, running a dirty hand through your hair. 

“You uh…heard about Dad?” Bobby stopped the tread to his old car, turning and peered at you with dark eyes. 

“I did. Don’t worry, m’not gonna hit you with all that “I’m sorry, woe is you” crap you hate.” You huffed, smiling at Bobby, “But, I am gonna tell ya you always have a place to stay, kiddo.”

“Thank you.” 

He looked at you expectedly, his head tilting towards you, “...So?”

“I left them after the funeral. I was just…having a hard time, Bobby.” You muttered, sitting in the back seat like a little kid.

“I know, kiddo. How’s about you come to my place and get yourself straight, hm?” You nodded, and Bobby watched you through the rear view mirror hanging above him. Your hair was greasy and the bags under your eyes almost purple. This had been fucking you up a lot.

Bobby got out and opened the trunk, rearranging things while Rufus opened the garage to grab salt, bullets, and gear to restock after your predicament. He tossed you his keys and you caught them with a jingle. You shoved them in the door and finally turned the janky lock, pushing it open. You froze.

Sam and Dean were sitting on the couch. The second you sighed and stepped inside, Dean shot up from his seat rushing towards you, wrapping you in a far too tight hug. He pulled away, his lips in a straight line as he lightly smacked you upside the head.

“You scared the shit out of us, dumbass.”

“Great to see you, too.” 

“Where were you?” 

You shrugged, moving past Dean to Bobby’s cramped, warm, familiar living room.

“I was on the road…hitchhiking, looking into cases, all that.” “I’m gonna refrain from telling you how dangerous that is and opt for a hug,” Sam grumbled as he wrapped his long arms around you. 

“Why are you here?” You asked, settling down on the couch like no time had passed at all since you last saw them. Sam began to speak up, but Dean cut him off and Sam stared at him sternly.

“Cause we couldn’t find you and you weren’t answering us, and Bobby said he found you on a hunt near his place. We got here right before you guys. Y/N you had us fucking worried.”

“I’m sorry. I needed some time alone. I…love you guys. But being around you after Dad, it just reminds me that I’ll never be good enough for him. He’s dead and all I can think about is how he died not even liking me. I’ll never be like either of you.”

Sam laughed; he actually laughed out loud. “Like me? Are we talking about the same people? Cause I see visions of people dying, Y/N. I dropped out of college and can’t do anything right in anyone’s eyes, not just Dad’s.”

“That's not true, Sam…” He sat down next to you on the couch, his knees turned towards you, his eyes dark and watchful. Dean mumbled something about getting you all drinks and disappeared into the kitchen, sensing a touchy conversion he'd rather not be a part of just yet.

“And Dean,” Sam continued, “Dean would rather die than open up to anyone, even either of us, and he can’t function if he’s not drinking, hooking up with some random girl, or drinking. Which is why he’s getting us drinks right now. If anything, you’re the one I’d rather be like. I know Dean would too.” You rolled your eyes pointedly, like Sam was talking nonsense. He moved his head to find your eyes, tilting his head towards you with that face he made that would always stop you from talking. “Y’know, you’re so good at reading us and we didn’t even realise until you were gone. Honestly, Dean and I have never fought that much. And you’re always good at talking with the vics and feds, way better than me or Dean, I–

“Can we end the girly-crap convo now, please?” Dean handed each of you a beer, throwing his back the second he sat down, drinking way too much in one sip.

“Sorry we have feelings, Dean. In case you forgot; most people have those.”

“Yea, yea. Listen,” he turned to you after he groaned, trying to look sincere, well, as sincere as Dean could look. 

“You’re probably the least fucked up one in our freak family, Y/N, so quit it, alright? Sammy and I���we love ya.” He threw his hand that wasn’t clutching his drink up in a surrender. “That good? Can we please drink now and head to our next stop with a hangover in the morning?”

You chuckled, clink-ing your drink with your brothers, and nodding to Dean. He smiled silently, thankful you were back. He hadn’t realized how much you kept the peace and sanity between the three of you. He really missed you. 

“There better be two of those left, idjits,” Bobby grumbled, Rufus on his tail as they went into the kitchen grabbing a bottle each. They sat opposite of you all on the other couch and you held up your bottle. 

“Cheers. To being a weird, fucked up family.”

“Cheers!” Sam gave you a tight lipped, sweet smile. “Cheers to that,” Dean finished the rest of his drink, throwing his head back.

“You kids are gonna kill me,” Bobby muttered.

[snek-disappearedagain]

Is it ok if you do a one-shot with Jade, Cater and Malleus with a reader who admits to accepting that they will pretty much die alone?

Context, reader is aromantic, and is used to being left behind when their friends find romantic partners. And is just waiting for everyone else to leave them even after they promised to stay with them. And also admits they are expecting them to leave them too at one point and is preparing for that moment.

It's ok if you don't! Understandable if you don't.

I can totally do that! Thanks for the request anon :D

Notes; Gn!Reader who is aromantic, ANGST, reader is called y/n, not romantic

Characters; Jade, Cater, Malleus

I swear I love writing angst-

Writing under the cut!

Jade

"Y/n? Are you thinking about something?" Jade asked out of the blue, snapping you out of your train of thought. The two of you were just hanging out in the garden, as not many other people came here. He never told you why though, and he didn't spark up any conversation up until this point.

"I guess, nothing important though. Why do you ask, Jade?" You replied, looking the other in the eyes. What you were thinking about didn't matter, you were just fine. Jade thought otherwise though, you could see it in his eyes.

"You looked miserable Y/n, I wanted to double check that you're okay," He stopped for a brief moment, as if considering what to say next. "I also wanted to offer you a place to talk, that's why I brought you here. Talking can take a lot of that heavy feeling off your chest; Even if you think there wasn't anything at all" You looked away for a second, before letting out a small sigh. Smiling softly, you look back at Jade.

"Jade, I'm going to die alone. I know it, because everyone always leaves me when I need them the most." He just nodded, although his mood shifted in a very subtle way. Jade didn't seem to have expected that, and you didn't expect to accept the moment it came out of your mouth. You were going to die alone, and that's that.

"Do you know how many times people promised me they wouldn't leave, but then the moment they find someone it's like I'm forgotten? It hurts Jade, and I can't stop it" You continued, feeling a burning in your chest. A few tears gathered in your eyes, and you felt Jade's hand wiping them away.

"Y/n, I may not know how you feel exactly, but I can tell you one thing. There are so many people who care for you and support you, and although they may leave eventually, you always find new people to do the same thing. I'm not saying to stop mourning those who have left, but I am saying that you will find new people. Friends come and go, but your memories of them stay."

You didn't tell Jade you expected him to leave you eventually as well, but you did think about what he said. Memories did tend to stay, didn't they?

Cater

You knew Cater, and you knew in some ways how he felt.

Cater knew you, and HE knew a little bit about how you felt.

You two didn't know how, you hardly talked about those kinda things after all. You just kinda, knew.

Today though, just knowing wasn't enough. For you maybe, but not for Cater. And so, he asked you to hang out with him. Why? You didn’t quite know, but you had an idea as to why.

You two sat in the rose maze of Heartslabyul, drinking tea and eating finger sandwiches. You two were having small talk. Very small talk. ‘How have you been?’ ‘Good. How about you?’ ‘Good.’

Until Cater brought up what you were dreading to hear.

“Y/n, although we may not hang out much, I think we can relate to each other in a way. You always act joyful and such, but I can tell you’re not happy. I should know, I do the same,” Cater said, and although you expected him to mention the not being all that happy part, you didn’t expect him to admit doing the same thing.

You chuckled a little, as did Cater. You two began laughing, so hard you started to cry (or were you crying for a different reason?)

You now knew Cater, and knew the reason why you related to each other.

Cater now knew you, and he thinks he’s always know why he related to you. Maybe.

The reason? You both had no true friends, you faked your happiness, and you both knew (completely knew) that you two would die that way. Unhappy, and very very alone.

It had happened too many times to not be true after all! And you thought for a moment ‘we could have each other!’ but that was far too hopeful for the both of you.

After the two finished your laugh-crying, without a word you both left the rose maze of Heartslabyul. Who knows the next time you’d hang out together, it could be never.

Maybe just knowing someone felt the same as you was enough. Maybe you felt a little comforted by the thought.

Maybe not.

Malleus

A daily session, one could call it.

You and Malleus sat on a high up balcony at exactly sunset, kicking your legs and talking. Sometimes it was small talk, sometimes you got into it. Sometimes you comforted Malleus, and this time Malleus comforted you.

“Have you ever felt like you’ll die alone?” Was the conversation starter this time. Malleus looked at you, and you could tell he understood.

“On occasion, yes. Why do you ask child of man?” Malleus replied in his usual calm voice, although you could tell he was slightly concerned.

“Because it’s constantly in my head, and I’m afraid of how quickly I’ve accepted it. I mean, people always leave me Malleus. I’ll never have someone forever, because before I know it they move on and I’m alone again.” You said, also in a calm voice- although at one point your voice began to shake.

The fae was silent, and the two of you sat together, legs dangling as the sun set.

“I won’t promise to never leave you Y/n, but I’ll be your friend for as long as you want me to be by your side. You are important to me, and I would miss our talks for the world,” Malleus said with a smile. You smiled back, feeling a little better.

You hoped that you and Malleus could be friends for a long time, and even if (when) he did leave you, you could at least think back to your talks.

Your daily sessions, one could call it.

-

Even though you don’t need a romantic partner, having friends by your side was enough to comfort you in your times of doubt. When ever you felt as if you’d die alone, you began to think about what all your friends said to comfort you. Whether it helped you or not, the comfort was still there and (maybe) you felt a little better.

Fin.

[thefanficmonster]

Sign From The Past

Andrew/Abraham (The Dark Pictures Anthology: Little Hope) x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Spoilers for Little Hope, Swearing, Blood and Injury, Bus Crash (Mentioned)

Genre: Romance, A bit of Angst

Summary: Following the bus crash and the group of students and their professor getting stranded in the eerie town of Little Hope, Y/N and Andrew come to find out a lot about and themselves as in their thoughts and feelings as well as about each other. It does take a little push from the past to pass the threshold though.

Requested by 💞 Anon. Hi darling! Thank you so much for your lovely request, it was a real joy to write. Also thank you so much for your patience - I know the wait has been really long and I’m extremely sorry for that but I still hope you come across the fic and read it. If so, I hope you enjoy it! Love, Vy ❤

Y/D/N - Your Double’s Name (Same first letter as your name)

Y/N stands behind John and observes as her professor is attempting to wake up the possibly concussed boy sitting on the ground with his back against the roof of the flipped bus they had all been safely seated in less than ten minutes ago. Her classmate and best friend Taylor’s struggling to fetch even the tiniest possible signal with her phone held up in the air, muttering curses under her breath. Two more classmates are unaccounted for at the moment but that’s not what’s bothering Y/N the most right now - maybe it’s messed up, but it’s true. 

The girls main attention and worry is focused on the boy who’s still unconscious. The boy she’s praying will wake up soon.

Being the only one with a med major, Y/N was quick to tend to any external wounds such as the cut on Andrew’s forehead which was rather deep but nothing to get too worked up about. There was not much she could do without a med-kit which made her feel utterly helpless and useless while John continuously reassured her Andrew and the rest of them would all be ok.

Come on, Andrew. Don’t scare us like this

As if overhearing her thoughts, Andrew’s eyes started fluttering open, causing Y/N’s heartbeat to pick up, her legs automatically carrying her closer to him, ducking down in front of him to get a good look at him.

She’s the first person his gaze lands upon before fluttering over to John. His eyebrow seems to raise ever so slightly before he looks at Y/N again, “Y/N, what happened? Who’s that?“

Her heart dropped and so did the smile that appeared on John’s face as a result of Andrew’s consciousness returning.

Overhearing Andrew’s question, Taylor quickly comes over as well, ducking down next to Y/N. “Rise and shine, Andy. We’re stuck in a ghost town, this is no time to be taking naps.”

Andrew scoffs, looking at Taylor, “Maybe you could run that back a bit cause I have no idea where I am or what on Earth happened.” His eyes shift back to you, “Any explanation would be nice, Y/N. Even a shitty one.”

Y/N sighs, “We were going on a fieldtrip and our bus crashed. This is our professor,” she points to John and then to Taylor, “And this is our classmate. Two others are with us but we don’t know where they are at the moment.”

The boy stays quiet for a moment, his gaze distancing and becoming unfocused to the point of scaring Y/N but then he starts talking, focusing again, “You’re a med major, so doc can you please tell me why the hell I remember none of what you just told me?“

Even though the girl is rather shocked by his memory of her and her major, she hurries to recompose herself and reply, “You’re just concussed, Andrew. Don’t worry, you’ll be perfectly fine soon, nothing to panic over. I promise.”

Taylor snorts from next to her, cutting the tension, “Wow Andy, you know Y/N AND her major but you can’t even remember our names. Just wow!”

“Not everyone leaves the same impression on a person, Taylor.“ John says, looking between Y/N and Andrew knowingly.

“You got that one right professor.“ Taylor agrees, nudging Y/N’s shoulder with her own, sending a wink her best friend’s way despite the other girl desperately avoiding her gaze.

All she can really do is sit in the intense heat of her blush and hope it’s not as apparent as her crush on Andrew seems to be.

It’s gonna be one hell of a night, she thinks to herself.

If only she knew how right she was...

                                                            *  *  *

“Feeling any better? Any fatigue or nausea?“ Y/N asks Andrew as the two continue down the road, walking ahead of everybody else. This is a routinely question she’s been asking him every thirty or so minutes while hoping she wasn’t annoying him too much with it.

Luckily, he never made her feel like she was, always replying in a friendly, light-hearted manner and even with a hint of a smile, “No, I’m good, don’t worry.”

Right, as if Y/N had a switch to flip to turn her worry off. She’s always been the nurturing type. The one who always over-cares and is always over-kind. She’s been like that with everyone since forever. But with Andrew, though she refuses to admit it, it’s obviously a bit different and more intense.

Seeing as how she’s the only one he remembers, he’s been sticking by her side and gravitating towards her the whole night - much like she’s been doing as well. Little do they both know that even back on campus, in the gardens and the hallways of their college they’d somehow always end up finding one another and walking together to or from class. There are invisible magnetic forces between them, pulling them towards one another so subtly neither of them have noticed. Not yet, at least.

“Hey look! An old train station.“ Y/N points out, looking first to Andrew then turning around in search of the rest of their group members. Her heart drops when all her gaze lands upon is the thick fog that’s been following them everywhere they’ve gone so far and doesn’t seem to show any sign of thinning anytime soon.

Having noticed her mild distress at the absence of their professor and classmates, Andrew hurries to approach her, subconsciously resting a hand on her shoulder, “Hey, they’re probably right behind us, don’t freak out, ok?” His eyes stare into hers so convincingly that all she can do is nod. When she does so, he continues, “Ok, good. Let’s go into the station, see if we can find anything or anyone.” She nods again, praying the blush that’s appeared on her cheeks as a result of the physical contact isn’t visible in the faint light of the streetlight.

As the two turn to venture onward, Y/N nearly jumps out of her skin when she feels Andrew’s hand slide down her arm to take a hold of hers as if afraid he’d lose her in the dark. She tries not to pay too much mind to it and not read into it, biting her lip to suppress the involuntary smile that’s creeping up on her face.

Seeing this moment with the two so at peace and relaxed, the horrors felt mocked apparently and felt the need to intervene.

Just as the two students are about to pass the threshold into the station, a hand covered in cracked ashy skin takes hold of Andrew’s forearm, pulling him in the station.

And simultaneously into the past.

When him and Y/N come to they are shocked at the sight that greets them: themselves. The two of them are standing next to a horse carriage, wearing attire from centuries ago and speaking in hushed tones and whispers but loud enough to be understood at the distance they were at. Y/N and Andrew decide to stay quiet and avoid being spotted by them.

“Never have I thought I’d have to send you off such a way and for such a reason, Y/D/N.” The man who looks exactly like Andrew says, his head hanging low with disappointment, regret and sorrow.

“Abraham, listen to me, this is no fault of yours. You are doing what you think will keep me from harm and I’m grateful with all my heart. I just worry the Reverend will find out you had something to do with me...“

“I’d regret not a single thing even if he did find out.“ The man, Abraham apparently, cuts the girl - Y/D/N - off, his eyes coming up to meet hers again, his hand taking hold of hers. The girl looks around nervously as if to make sure she’s got permission to hold the hand of the man she clearly loves, but then just nods in gratitude.

“I’m forever in your debt, Abraham, thank you.“ She says, bowing her head now too.

“Do not thank me, Y/D/N, and do not speak such nonsense as debt. I would rather die seen as a betrayer of God than see you burnt at the steak or hanged. My lover is no witch and won’t be treated like one till the day I draw my last breath.“

With that Abraham and Y/D/N share one final hug before he helps her up on the carriage which takes off in a direction where Y/N and Andrew see nothing but darkness.

And just like that, the two present versions of those people, are put back where they belong - in the present, surrounded by fog and darkness as previously. The surroundings that previously gave them an uneasy feeling now make them feel comfort because of their familiarity.

“You ok?“ Y/N jumps when Andrew’s hand’s hold on her tightens ever so slightly as if to free her from the web of confusion and fear.

She nods then shakes her head but manages to let out an affirmative hum to reassure him. “You?”

Andrew repeats the same motion she did - a nod followed by a shake of the head, “Yes and no, if I’m being honest. And on the topic of honesty: I haven’t been at the peak of mine as of recent.”

Y/N’s eyebrows furrow, “What do you mean?“

The boy lets out a heavy sigh that is meant to prepare him for what he’s about to say. What he’s about to confess to. “There’s plenty of things I haven’t told you. Things I refused to tell myself too...”

“Andrew, sorry but, I’ve had it with puzzles and riddles all night long. Can you please be straight-forward, I promise I won’t freak out or anything.“

Despite still being hesitant on the matter, Andrew decides to listen to Y/N’s advice - or rather request - and nods before continuing, “You’re one of my best friends, Y/N, I hope you know that and I trust you and I care for you and...and I just tonight came to understanding that it was always something...more than a friend. More than a best friend. I’m sorry if this makes you feel weird or awkward or if you don’t feel the same way please don’t cushion the rejection or pity me. I just...” As he’s talking he makes the mistake of looking her in the eyes which are giving him the most unimpressed look which gets him to shut up asap.

“If you didn’t already have a head injury I’d smack you.“ She says, eyes narrowed, “Andrew, I’m sorry, but you have to be one of the densest and most oblivious guys I’ve ever met. Like, you’re up there at Daniel’s level when he refused to believe Taylor liked him back. That’s how high up you’re on the scale.“

Her words confuse him, leaving him to process all that she’s said until some type of realization hit him. Only one is turning up and he refused to believe it cause it seems so impossible to him.

“I like you too, you dumbass.“ She says, a smile on her face hiding the tons of exhaustion he’d been seeing on it for the past few hours.

“FUCKING FINALLY!“ The familiar voice of no one but Taylor arises from somewhere behind the couple who have now found themselves at a closer proximity than before, arms automatically reaching for the other to take them in their embrace.

Fucking finally indeed, Taylor.

[heroes-writing]

Hello! It’s great to see you back again, you’re one of my favourite OPM writers! And greetings to Stella, it’s good to have you aboard •v• Is my Zombieman with a former experiment s/o still on the books? If not, I’d like to request it again if that’s alright. Good luck with the quarantine, and stay safe! •v•

Greetings Anon!

Okay well shit, maybe it’s impossible for me to do headcanons for prompts like these without turning it into a story-length outline, goddamnit. I always feel the need to put more and more detail to make it feel real. Hi, my middle name is ‘Extra’.

This also turned out to be a wild animal - morphed into a double whammy of HC-scenarios. I hope it’s close enough to hit what your prompt asks.

Enjoy under the cut,

Stella

Word count: 1202

Okay, so I get the feeling that successful mad scientists like Dr. Genus are not, in fact, running rampant, even in a universe like OPM’s. This shit takes a lot of hard work and knowledge and you gotta know what you’re doing. Most rogue scientists either quit because of the low success rate or get killed by their creations.

Zombieman’s SO would, in fact, be a scientist that volunteered to experiment on themselves, backed by a team in the Hero Association’s Research & Development biology division. (Side note, obviously no one in the OPM world ever has taken a course on scientific ethics or human subject research.) They’re trying to get powerful enough to become an A-class or even an S-class hero. They have a strong drive to make the world a better place, along with scientific curiosity (to see what they can do with their knowledge), and this is the result of their extreme devotion and obsession taken to its conclusion.

They know what they’re doing, but guys, shit happens. The experiment is only moderately successful due to some unforeseen hiccups. SO joins the Hero Association as a high B-rank hero. This obviously isn’t good enough to investigate further in, so that little research foray is scrapped by R&D and kept on the down-low. 

SO is neither particularly well-known nor obscure and they periodically suffer from side effects of surgical augmentations; their hero name is “Human Experiment” (lol). Zombieman hears about their vague origin story (at least part of it, anyway) and seeks them out to find out if they were also a victim of the House of Evolution, in hopes of tracking down Genus.

He’s disappointed to find that they are not part of the House of Evolution. Despite that, he still feels a weird kinship of sorts with them, and they end up talking a little longer. Zombieman ends up enjoying their company, and they start hanging out whenever they’re both at HQ. Because it’s classified information, SO doesn’t reveal at this point that they experimented on themselves with the help of the HA.

After a few weeks, Zombieman finally asks SO out on a proper date, and it’s during this first date that SO reveals their true origins as an experiment, because they don’t feel like they should let Z get into a relationship with them under this huge lie of omission. Z is surprised and a little disappointed since he’d been under the impression that they’d had an extremely similar experience to him. But, they didn’t actively deceive him about it, so he puts it behind him and accepts it for what it is. 

Despite this, after a while of being in a relationship with SO, he feels able to talk about his experiences with them and is interested in hearing about how theirs was similar or different. He’s a little bitter, but too rational and calm to truly be upset about how his experimentation was forced, and how theirs was consensual and self-inflicted. It’s their past, they accept each other, it is what it is. 

Although they’ve both come to terms with their life before meeting each other, they still talk about their experiences together. It provides him with a source of relief to be able to share with someone the worst parts of his life that he can remember and not have to censor the most graphic parts. He shares his fears and anger, and they their hopes and doubts, about what they both went through during their experimentation. 

He shares his hatred of being drugged to the gills, the mindless terror of a prey animal he’d felt as he fought for his life and then died during the first few dozen times his regeneration was tested, desperately wanting to actually die to end it, the rush of adrenaline that still floods his body after he wakes before he realizes he’s no longer a captive in the basement. His sensitivity towards being called a monster as he is definitely still a human.

SO has the utmost empathy hearing about Z’s experience -- they were willing, but he wasn’t; they imagine their own experimentation if it were non-consensual and how awful it would have been. SO is extremely indignant on his behalf and can’t help but rant about how disrespectful it was to Z, how improper those procedures were, and how Genus is a disgrace to all scientists and shouldn’t be considered a proper one. They soothe Z with kisses and reassure that he is in no way a monster.

His SO shares their naive idealism that had spurred them to volunteer their body for the cause, their wavering conviction as it became clear that the overwhelming success they had planned for was no longer guaranteed, their uncertainty that it was worth it at all. Their struggles as they doubt if they’re human anymore: they look like one, but they feel like they’ve been changed on such a fundamental level, they’re not sure if they can even share the full human experience anymore.

Z is not unsympathetic towards SO and knows better than to blame them for their self-inflicted situation they’d created. He tells them that they shouldn’t worry if they’re human or not: their heart is in the right place and their actions are pure and good.

SO then confesses that they actually hate killing monsters because they feel that they’re too much like humans -- monsters have feelings, ambitions, thoughts, and dreams of their own. Zombieman reveals that his enjoyment of killing monsters (often brutally so) is only because he feels the desperate need to prove he’s not one.

Shit gets philosophical between them. They become engrossed in their conversation as the sun sets and the street lights flicker on. What is the line between human and monster? The difference between extreme experimentation and monsterization? There are humans that harm other humans in egregious ways, but they don’t get hunted down like monsters. There are monsters that don’t harm humans, but they are exterminated anyway. What makes a monster a monster? Intent, actions, self-perception, or how others see you? And in the end, does it even matter at all? 

-----

Finally, I have an unhealthy love of angst, so I have a little separate headcanon-plot about Zombieman and his little science-experiment-SO being in a steady relationship, but with the twist that they have to deal with the fallout of his SO’s experimentation, which is starkly different from his own outcome. 

His SO doesn’t have a “positive” result like Zombieman and their experimentation was botched and unsuccessful. Instead of regenerative abilities and basically not being able to die, she has the thematic opposite, i.e. slow-acting but terminal cancer from her exposure to the carcinogenic substances that were used during her time in captivity. 

She can buy a little time with amputations of body parts (contrast with Z being able to GROW BACK parts), but it will kill her eventually. She opts to do this to be able to spend more time with Zombieman, but they both have to deal with the consequences of her declining ability to be independent and care for herself with the loss of each limb. 

Oh lort I just made myself supremely sad.

[dylinski]

Trick or Treat

Request/Prompt: Anon - Hey , i have two Halloween prompt ideas . 1/ Reader and Stiles are trapped in a haunted house . 2/ Reader is going to a Halloween party , Posting a Pic of her sexy costume , Derek seeing that,decide to go there to tell her how He feels . Hope youre gonna Like it

Warnings: make out, light smut?, possessive, mild language, angst (because we all know i can’t write something without it)

Relationships: Derek Hale/Reader

Word Count: 2067

Author: @dylan-obrien-fanblog

A/N: part two of a double request from anon. this is the first non-dylan fic i’ve written, so sorry if it’s trash (like most of my trash 😅) hope it’s what you wanted. and still working on part one. 

Trick or Treat

You couldn’t believe how sexy you felt in the Halloween costume you were wearing. Being friends with Stilinski had its benefits, and he was sneaky enough to get you a deputy’s outfit from the station. You made some modifications of course. You replaced the pants with a black skirt that clung to your ass, barely covering it. You wore the shirt, but had the bottom half tied in a knot, showing your stomach. Most of the buttons were undone, showing your cleavage. Stiles even managed to get you a utility belt with everything but the gun. You slipped on your heels, making you 6 inches taller, then took a mirror selfie. You posted the picture on Instagram, only to antagonize a single person. You have had the biggest crush on Derek Hale for the last year, but he wasn’t one to show or even see emotion. You flirted with him, but he seemed impervious. You had begged him to come with you to the party, but he rolled his eyes and told you no. You really wanted to spend time with him, but honestly you wanted him to see you in your outfit. This was the first time you had ever worn something like that. Well, if he wasn’t going to be therein person, he can see what he’s missing.

Lydia texted you as you posted the picture, letting you know she had just arrived to pick you up. You grabbed your bag, took one last look in the mirror to make sure everything looked good, then headed outside to meet her. When Lyds saw you, her jaw dropped. “Daaaaaaaamn girl!” She howled as you opened the door. You couldn’t help but blush as you thanked her, sliding into the seat as best you could with the short skirt. Lydia turned on some dance music, pumping you both up for the party. When you arrived she made you take a selfie with her, both of you making kissy faces at the camera. She took a couple others, both of you making cute and sexy expressions. When you entered the party it was already flooded with bodies, moving to the beat of the music. All your confidence suddenly melted away and you felt doubt seep in as you found yourself lost in the sea of people. Being alone in your room, wearing this outfit, was one thing, but in front of a hundred people was something else. Hopefully, once you got some liquid courage in you, you’d be fine. You headed to where they were serving the alcohol with Lydia.

After a couple drinks, both of you felt relaxed and let the night take over as you danced to the pounding of the speakers. Lydia kept taking pictures of you and the other people you had just met. She liked to ‘document’ everything and was always posting online. Typically you would be against this, but you were too drunk to care. “Hey! Lydia! I’m gonna her another drink!” You shouted over the blaring noise, but she didn’t hear you. You could barely hear yourself. Unsure of what you said, she still nodded. You headed to the bar when strong hands grabbed you from behind by your hips. They pulled you tight, crashing you into a muscular body and almost tumbling you to the floor, but their grip kept you upright. “What the..?” You mumbled under your breath. The lights were flashing and there were too many bodies, making it difficult to make out who it was. The blurry vision didn’t help either. The hands were now holding your arms and pulling you through the crowd. “Ow. You’re hurting me.” Your arm was starting to throb where the grip was, signaling your brain of the pain.

You were pulled through a door that led into an alley. The cold brisk midnight air raised goosebumps on your skin, clashing against the warmth and heat of the party. “Let go of me!” You shouted as you yanked your arm from the hand as it’s tightness loosened. The hands grabbed your shoulders and pulled you to face a familiar and grumpy face. “Aww. You’re grumpy. You’re cute when you’re mad.” Your antagonizing only made him furrow his thick brows deeper, almost cementing them into a single brow. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” He growled at you through his teeth, eyes watching you fiercely as he held you in place.

“I’m partying. At the party.” If it weren’t for Derek’s arms holding you up, you thought you might keel over. You were seeing double and starting to feel sick. Your eyes widened as you felt your stomach churning. Derek’s face immediately relaxed and changed to worry. Thankfully, his quick reflexes were able to bring you over to the wall before you puked on him. You held your weight against the wall as he held your hair and rubbed your back up and down. Oh God. That’s when it hit you. Sobering up, you realized you looked like a complete mess. No, you were a complete mess and it was all on display for Derek to see. Your makeup was smeared and created dark circles around your eyes. You were pale and clammy from throwing up and feeling just as bad as you looked didn’t help.

You turned, leaning your back against the wall as Derek gave you a sympathetic half smile. He offered you a piece of gum that you took graciously, still irritated by his empathetic expression. “What?” He just shrugged and crossed his arms across his toned chest, causing his biceps to flex. Thankfully you were already flushed. “Don’t look at me like that!”

“Like what, Y/N?”

“Like I look the same as I feel.” You couldn’t look him in the eyes for more than a couple seconds at a time, embarrassed by your current state.

“And how do you feel?” His question was antagonizing and almost sarcastic. You show him a hard look, shooting daggers at him. You quickly looked back down to the ground, counting the pebbles to distract you as you answered.

“Like shit.” Derek walked to you blocking you in between him and the wall, his hands resting on your arms.

“You don’t look like shit.” His voice was soft and his look genuine, something you had never seen him wear before. You cocked your head to the side with intrigue until his words registered and red rushed to your cheeks.

“Thanks.” You were breathless as he inched in closer, causing you to inch back, his body almost pinning you to the wall now. “Um. Derek?”

“Yeah?” He breathed, his air hitting your lips as he spoke, your faces only inches apart.

“Why...why are you here?” Your question triggered something in the man. He immediately released his hands and took multiple steps back, putting a good three feet between the two of you. You stayed, leaning against the wall, afraid to move.

“I saw the pictures.” He looked at the ground when he answered. His voice was hard and deep, almost like he was ashamed of his words.

“Pictures?” You stepped forward, pushing off the wall, but he mimicked the movement, stepping back. His arms were crossed and his eyebrows pulled together, wearing his never changing brooding expression. He refused to look at you. You took another step towards him. He flinched, but didn’t move this time. You took a few more steps until you could place your palm on his cheek. He turned his head away, but didn’t fight your touch. Your fingers trailed down to his chin, moving it so you could see his eyes. His face may have been contorted and full of anger, but his eyes were sad. “Derek, what is it?”

He stepped back, pulling from your grasp as he threw his hands up, bursting with fury. “You can’t just do that!” Confusion covered your face as you looked at him like he was ranting and raving over nothing. What had you done to him? If anything, you should be complaining about him. In response to your expression, he widened his eyes and jerked his head as he threw his hands up in your direction. “You! This! You can’t just wear something like that! Especially where everyone can see!”

“Excuse me?” Your confusion turned to rage. Who the hell did he think he was, telling you what you can and can’t wear? “What gives you the right to say something like that? You can’t just come here out of the blue after I asked you to, and you said no by the way, then tell me I'm ‘not allowed to wear this’.” He didn’t appreciate the quotation marks, evident by his scoff. “Look, I’m not one of your little werewolves, okay? You’re not my alpha. I’m my own goddamn alpha!” You shoved his shoulder, furious at him now. How dare he treat you like some sort of property. He gritted his teeth, his jaw hurting out behind his tight lips.

When he didn’t say anything, you pushed him again, and harder, causing him to shift his balance. He glared at you and without hesitation pushed you back up to the wall, caging you in with his arms. His hot breath panting and washing over your face. Terror flooded you and Derek saw. He dropped his arms to his side and looked disappointed in himself. “It’s not like that.” His voice was soft again. “I don’t want you dressing like this because I don’t want...I don’t want other guys looking at you.” You couldn’t help but open your mouth in shock. What was he saying? Did he mean what you thought he meant? Was he trying to tell you he-

Your thoughts were cut off when he pressed his lips to yours, taking advantage of them being parted and pushing his tongue past without hesitation. You pushed back against the wall, railing yourself up on your toes. He pulled his lips back, your foreheads still connected, and you both gasped for breath. You stared at his lips, processing what just happened. After only a couple seconds, you grabbed his face with both hands, pulling his lips back to yours in a deep kiss. Your mouths were open wide, teeth clashing and tongues swirling as you wanted as much of him as you could get. He cupped his hands at the top of your thighs and pulled up, prompting you to jump as you wrapped your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck.

He pushed you against the wall as his lips moved from yours down your jawline until they met your neck. This summoned a moan as he nipped and sucked at the skin, erupting a growl from him. His hand slid up your skirt, gripping your ass tight. You could feel the fire building inside you, craving every inch of him, but you dropped to your feet. He looked at you in confusion. “Not here.” All you could manage was a whisper from your dry throat, panting for breath as your desire raged inside. “Believe me, I want nothing more than to jump your bones right here and now, but I doubt our first time together should be in the middle of an alley...next to my puke.” He laughed and nodded in agreement.

He grabbed your wrist with deep dark eyes, full of lust and pulled you to his SUV. Thank God he only lived 10 minutes away. As you got into the car, you went to buckle your seat-belt. “Oh. You think we’re waiting to get back to the loft?” His words were menacing and hungry. He leaned over and kissed you again, holding your cheek in his hand, picking up where you left off in the alley. You were rudely interrupted by some drunk college kids cackling outside the club a couple feet away, oblivious to the two of you. It was still annoying though. You shot Derek a look and he didn’t seem to care they were there.

“Just drive you idiot.” He laughed and turned over the engine, taking you back to the loft to finish what he had started. He took your hand, squeezing as he drove, you squeezed back and gave him a smile. “Trick or treat?” He looked at you with his wolf eyes, red and full of fire as he smiled devilishly at your question.

“Treat.”

[btsjeonjazz]

Favourite color: Black II pt. 1

Yoongi x reader

genre: Mafia!Yoongi, angst, violence

contents of violence, heavy words and so on

Thanks to the anon who requested a Mafia/Underground!Yoongi story, I hope you enjoy even though I changed the plot

word count: 11.4k

Does Min Yoongi stand for death or safety?

Right now it definitely was the first word to describe the rather cruel man and his actions who threatened you with your mother’s life if you wouldn’t obey his orders as he wanted you to. His plans for your further cooperation sounding strange. At first.

He crawled under your skin.

His pale, flawless skin, the silky hair which was so utterly soft under your hands as you touched it for the first time and those dark, unfathomable, but smart eyes, secrets and things you better not knew about hidden behind love filled pupils whenever he laid those brown orbs on you. His face was mostly cast in shadows, liking the way it turned all attention on him the moment he entered every room, human beings shaking to the core at his sight. People had more than respect for him, fear letting their faked smiles crumble if he spoke to them; unlike you. You never were afraid of him only his cruel actions at the beginning, found him fascinating and beautiful, especially the prominent scar which reached from his jaw down to his chest. The first time you had sex you were shocked, tracing your fingers over it slowly while tears strained your face. The night turned around and with the few words of his dark, raspy voice you stopped crying and felt nothing more than pure hunger for his body. He made it his goal to pleasure you and so did you and in no time you were head over heals for this man, his secrets slowly loosening around him. But let us start elsewhere; at the very beginning.

It was nearly a year you knew Yoongi by now and this period was exciting, full of sex and expensive presents you had never asked him to give you. The most precious one his undoubtedly strong bond to you, called love. You met differently than other couples do.

The club you partied your latest birthday at was full of good-looking people, men and women alike. You decided to give this evening a chance after a ruined day at work, your co-workers one hell of an annoying, smartass bunch of people. Your best friends gathered you let the party get started, drinking like crazy, making out with several guys and unluckily your best friend, to be more precise best female friend, too. Oh yes, when you partied then without regrets, that was your motto. You hadn't noticed Yoongi at first as he sat quietly waiting for someone at the bar, a scotch in his jewellery covered hand and a tall, pretty chick in his arm. Therefore you danced like crazy until early in the morning, drowning one shot after the other.

Your friends were long gone as you and the only remaining familiar face of your best friend lazily staggered out of the club at four in the morning, drunk as fuck and wobbling on your legs, the high heels you wore clearly a hindrance topping the alcohol in your bloodstream.

“I think..I have to puke”, your voice was weak in your ears and you weren't even sure you said these words as you helped your friend sit on some stairs while you wavered towards an alley one house further from the club to vomit all the liquor you gulped down tonight. The loud music was only a rustle in your ears, the alcohol numbing your senses as you turned the corner to step inside the alleyway. But ere you had the chance to hurl out your alcohol, your senses came rushing back a rapid speed, sobering up partly to swallow a scream at what you witnessed while standing in front of the lane.

Two men lay on the ground, blood straining their light shirts, eyes turned white as their pupils rolled to the back of their heads. Talking about their heads.. Well, one thing was sure, you weren't able to recognize them anymore. What made you turn white – despite the bloody bodies on the ground – was the man who stood in front of them, a knife in his pale hand, face turned towards the dead men, his face a mixture of deep satisfaction and disgust as he smiled down onto his doing. Behind him stood two other men, broad shouldered and expressions contoured in nothingness, coldness as if it was daily routine for them. His own face and clothes were sprinkled a dark red, drops of his victims' bloods turning his white shirt as well as his pale skin bizarre crimson. You were seriously drunk, even though this scene made you sober up a little, but completely, utterly drunk enough for your next thought. He is beautiful. You were no psychopath who liked such sort of things, but something in you was awake as you looked at him. Yes, your fear and the thought of running for your fucking life, so take those shoes off, collect your damned thoughts and run like the devil, your last bit of rightful thinking reprimanded you, but it was too late.

With that you crouched down, the cocktails and shots which were delicious a few hours ago, landing partly on your new shoes and partly on the ground beneath you. Wavering you fell on your hands, the remaining alcohol spreading around you. If you weren't that hazy, you would have ran instead of getting down and vomiting. But here you were, on your knees, witnessing a murderer and his deformed victims inside an alley while hurling out everything you had in you. By the time you finished, six pairs of furious eyes looked down on you. When did they come so close?

“She has seen too much for her to let her live”, a man's voice reached you, an octave too high for his tall body.

You were flinching, well as far as you thought so, trying to get back on your feet, thinking you had a chance to escape if you started to run. Funny, what a drunken mind could make up. As if you even could stand right now. It was only a blur from then on. Muffled voices discussed some issues around you as you started to hurl again. Why you? Why on your fucking birthday? And why the bugfuck were you so damn stupid to go alone? Not that you and your friend had a chance, but it would've made it a lot easier to die together, so you told you your own lie.

“Lift her up”, a dark, raspy voice made its way through your drunken mind, your head looking up only to see through a blurry vision, the alcohol letting you see the man in different shades, double or thrice in front of you. “She is too drunk to think straight anyway. So hurry the fuck up or do you want me to repeat my words, you fucktards? It's not an invitation, but an order”, his voice spit fire, making you flinch at the harshness of his words. Fear flooded your body, your bones and muscles wouldn't let you give them a command as you sat there, eyes wide with terrible anxiety of the upcoming event – even though you couldn't really see anything through the milky vision that blurred your view.

“D-don't kill me”, you whispered, voice stuck in your throat while you tried to slide your body further away, failing at the attempt because your body didn't move one bit. “I..I..”

“Shut up, will you?”, the same cold voice filled the air again. “You witnessed something nobody should have seen. What is a pretty girl like you even doing outside at this hour, behaving like a slut?”

Your muscles twitched, the need to run was too heavy, but still not a limb in your body moved. Trembling like hell you narrowed your eyes, hot, salty tears starting to roll down your cheeks. So that was it. Your life was at the end, although you hadn't started to live like you wanted to. Early twentieth, young, full of energy with an awesome family, but no more time than a few minutes.

“Make her forget, got it?”, the man shot you a grin, crouching down next to you. Up close you stared at his face, the last one you would see before his men would kill you, right? Why had he to be so beautiful? He had pale skin, almond eyes with a lot of darkness – and amusement? - inside them, his lips shaped in the form of a heart, pink, wet lips dyed in crimson colored drops just like the rest of his face. His hair was neatly combed, only a few parts standing high from the violent, disgusting murder he had done. It wasn't fair and despite your fear you collected every courage you had in your cell, shoving the alcohol to the side. You would die, okay, but not without leaving an expression this bloody idiot would ever forget. Adrenalin crawled into your veins, blood starting to boil with anger, pushing the fear aside.

“Listen, you bastard”, you started, voice not shaking, but a little slow, the liqiour from before making it difficult to form the sentences as sharp and fast as you wanted to. The man's eyebrows were cocked up, a spark of interest tracing his view as he tilted his head. “I don't care whose big boss you are or what your revolting goals might be, but it's sick, okay? You're fucking sick! And I don't have anything to do with you, got it? I'm not even sure if I.. I remember all of this by tomorrow”, up until now everything seemed to run smooth from your lips even though the man's expressions changed from confused to even more confused. You didn't care, in your head everything made perfect sense, although you bet that not the half of what you thought left your lips in the right order. “So, how about you let me go? I won't call the cops, I don't even carry a phone with me. And these dudes”, you made a sloppy movement with your hand towards the other two men behind him, “can go an' fuck themselves. If you dare to touch me, I will scream, bite or whatever, but leave me alone, you retards..”

“Big words from someone who stands of the verge of death”, the man snickered, a dark sound without any amusement at all. “Better shut your little mouth before I do.”

“As if I would, you fucker”, you mumbled, words getting difficult to form on your tongue, the adrenalin slowly vanishing and exchanging to fear again. “Get it on with then or you got no balls to kill me? Nice birthday, y/n, really nice birthday. After these dumb co-workers at work and a shitty day you come and ruin my super good night. Good fucking job, you trolls!”, you were angry, why had it to end right now? You definitely weren't ready although you told them right now they had no balls to end your life. How stubborn and stupid were you? Instead of trying to lull them in, you decided to make a riot to leave an expression. Your emotions mixing together, changing throughout the passing minutes.

The men straightened again and hovered dangerously over your weak body. He said something to his men what you couldn't define, the numbness slowly drifting to your senses again.

“See you, little girl”, the boss of them said, patting your head ere he stepped out of the alley, his black figure disappearing from your sight, screeching of breaks, a car door being shut and you were alone with them.

You shut your eyes, cursing yourself for not vomiting right there by your friend's side on the street and witnessing a murder, now facing the end of your life.

“Unbelievable”, Yoongi chuckled, his hands holding onto a wet tissue to wipe off the fucking blood of the two idiots who now lay dead inside the alley he left a few seconds ago. “How can such a tiny women be so aggressive? She couldn't even move, but her mouth was so loose, you won't believe me”, he said to the guy who was his best buddy and had picked him up as planned.

“She dead?”, he asked, wiggling his brown brows at Yoongi who just shrugged.

“I told them to beat her up so she would not remember anything she saw. No clue why, but her courage was so impressive, I couldn't let her be killed”, Yoongi said, the tissue turning crimson by now. “She wouldn't make any problems anyway, and if she tries she's deader than dead. The girl forgot she wore a handbag and you can bet I have her purse, name and address. Maybe I make her my new bitch or something.”

Both men chuckled at that thought, but Yoongi wasn't sure if it was just a joke or if he should visit you some time to see if you remembered him. And maybe you would cooperate and be his new toy for a while, who knew? Threats always helped reaching his goals.

Everything went dark the moment a rock hard fist landed on your temple. You had to concentrate yourself as your eyes fluttered open, light illuminating you. Am I dead? Is this the afterlife? But what is this awful noise next to your head? Pain. You definitely weren't dead as you tried to turn your head in the direction of the high pitched sound echoing through the room you lay in, your headache splitting your head as you opened your eyes fully. It was a hospital room, white walls, white sheets, cables and equipment of medicine lining the shelf in front of you, the smell of sanitizer and blood filling your nostrils.

Hallelujah you weren't dead!

You looked around, nobody in sight, only muffled steps and voices reaching through the closed door of your room. Your head fell back on the uncomfortable pillow beneath your head, the simple move letting your brain explode again. What happened to you? Sparks of a party night flooded your mind, droning music, shots without end and a dark path lining to an alley. Blackout. Again. You had birthday yesterday, the day was shitty, but the night awesome, friends making up for your lost hours in the bureau that afternoon. You knew, you had unbelievably much fun that night and went home with Alice, or didn't you?

“She's awake now!”, a woman's voice reached your ears, loud, high and full of relief. The door you hadn't heard opening closed behind three people storming inside the hospital room. “Baby, how are you? Are you hurt? What happened to you? Who did this to you? Please, tell us what for god's sake happened?” It was your mom, only she was able to ask as many questions at the same time without breathing.

“H-hey”, your voice was hoarse, your throat dry as the desert as you tried to speak up.

“Oh god”, it was your friend, Alice whose voice was loud now. “Y/n! Thank god, you're okay!”

Both women tried to hug you carefully, the catheter in your vein hindering them to fully embrace you. “I'm..fine.” You sounded awful, as if you had screamed, cried or whatever, voice cracking up after such simple words.

“Miss y/l/n, how are you feeling?”, another, strange voice was heard behind your mom and friend, manly, loud. It was the doctor.

You contemplated, how were you feeling? Despite those merciless pains in head and throat, you felt good. “If I can get painkillers for..my h-headache and a glass of water, it's okay.”

“Right away”, the doctor smiled at you, his dark hair strained with some grey wisps. “I will send a nurse with your needs and will be back for a check-up after your visit leaves for a bit.”

You nodded, a fatal mistake. Your brain felt as if it was leaking out your ears, the pressure inside unbearable. Hopefully the nurse was flying over ere you died of a migraine.

“You have to tell us what happened!”, your mom pressed further, her voice octaves too high and loud for you right now.

“If I would know, I would tell you, mom. But please, be quiet, my head..”

“I'm so sorry, baby”, she responded in a whisper, sitting down next to you on the small chair a typical hospital room always was furnished with. “We were just so worried about you. Some nice man found you yesterday night a few houses away from the club you two partied in”, her hand moved in Alice's direction, who looked deep in concentration, her eyebrows knitted over her round eyes. “You were bleeding on your temple, vomit all around you”, the first sniff. “Luckily he found you and called an ambulance the instant he saw you, who knows what folk would have done if they had found you like this!” And she was crying. You understood her worries, if it were her or Alice or some other friend of yours you would have found unconsciousness in the hospital you would be as agitated and shaken, too.

“It's okay, mom. I had a bunch of drinks and might have been knocked out by accident”, you tried to sooth her ruthless mind, hand holding hers. Not even you believed the shit you just told her. As if something could knock you out by accident.

Her sniffling got harder until she sobbed for a few minutes, the nurse interrupting her waterfall as she was asked to stay outside as long as my headache didn't go down. She brought you medicine and after good twenty minutes everything slowly mitigated and your mother and Alice were allowed to come in again. By the time did your mother stop crying, your friend holding her in her arms as long as you couldn't sit straight. You told them what you remembered, but that wasn't much, so your mom decided to get some tea for you while Alice took a seat, face gone pale as she looked at you.

“Y/n, don't you remember anything?”, she asked, her hand laying on yours, eyes concerned as she rubbed over your skin.

“Only what I told you, but don't you know anything? We went home right? Why were we separated in the first place?”

Alice was quiet ere her eyes opened wide. “You and I went down a few metres outside the club, and you had to puke, y/n! We sat down and you went straight to, I don't know where to, to vomit out the alcohol.”

Pictures formed in your head, blurry, vaguely drawing a person with dark eyes. A cold shiver ran down your spine as you remembered someone's oculars, cold, scheming with a spark of amused interest. Then you saw yourself on the ground, vomit all around you, even on your new shoes, glistering in the street lamp..crimson on pale skin. You shook your head. Which memories were planted in your head? Definitely not yours!

“Yeah, and then something hit my temple”, you said, rubbing over your face. It was useless to reconstruct the scenes from yesterday, maybe later, but you were so exhausted right now that every time a piece of important memory slipped just through as you tried to grab it.

“You seriously have to thank the man who found you. He saved your life. Okay, maybe it wasn't that heavy, but your mom's right. Who knows what other people would have done if they would've found you there? A scantily dressed girl, drunken and past out in some alley..”, she shuddered at the thought and so did you.

“Is he here in the hospital?”, you asked her, curious about the 'hero', who decided to safe you from some folk ere it was too late.

“Yeah, he's down in the cafeteria waiting for you to wake up while calming down you mother. Unlucky that your dad is abroad for work right now”, the girl with the light her smiled weakly at you, trying to calm you as well, but you were perfectly calm. Lost memories getting on your nerves. Why couldn't you complete the puzzle inside your head? Drunk and hit wasn't the best friend of consciousness, that's for sure.

A soft knock on your door your mother entered the room again, a smile on her face, her eyes swollen. “Y/n, I brought a visitor you should be thankful for”, she said holding the door for a man, a few years older than you, pale white skin glancing underneath a black shirt, black suit pants and black shoes, his thatch a color opposing to his flawless skin. You saw a scar going down from under his cheeks to the hem of his shirt, disappearing underneath it, his eyes narrowed to the ground while a faint smile pulled the edges of his pink lips up. His oculars slowly darted towards you, dark eyes, smart, calculating with a spark of uncountable secrets focused on you. Grim reaper, a small voice inside your head screamed with all its might, blasting, roaring, howling with everything it got: RUN! You had to hold your head as one picture pushed trough everything that flooded your mind. Crimson on his face, drops of blood running down his handsome features as he said something to you, his voice darker than the night – Grim reaper – making you shudder in your bed, cold sweat forming in the palms of both your hands. The voice in your head wouldn't shut up, a mantra repeating, Grim reaper, run, Grim reaper, beautiful. Over and over and over again until he opened his mouth, a voice dark, raspy filling the room. “I'm glad you're awake by now.”

You stood in the alley, the only light illuminating it from the street lamps behind you. Two deformed bodies laying on the ground in front of three men; one holding a knife, the other two big guys, seeming like bodyguards while the other looked at you as you hurled your insides out in front of you. His voice echoed through you, fear building inside your whole body which trapped you, pray for the lions. A command followed, a gentle pat on your head as a door closed and a car drove away with full speed. Then one of the big guys reaches down, grinning crazily as he knocked you out. Blackout. Hospital room.

It was silent, the bastard who stood in front of you cocking his brows up, contemplating how much you knew after what happened to you. Everything, you asshole, you spit with your eyes, not saying a word, too afraid he might pull out the knife from yesterday and kill your mom or Alice if you opened your mouth. It was a battle you fought with him, staring in each others eyes, and you wouldn't be the one avoiding your gaze first.

“Sit down, Mr. Chen”, your mom invited him to sit right next to you on the chair she sat on before. “Don't hesitate, y/n is a little shook right now.”

You observed his every step, his gaze politely on your mother. At least the silent battle you had won. He was too close as he sat down, your voice stuck in your throat, limbs tensed and cramped under the blanket. What now? Did he come to kill you now? Wasn't it enough for you to feel this fear yesterday? Why? Just why had he to come here again, disguised as the superhero who oh so rescued you, not the one who got you in this situation in the first place.

“Do you mind letting us alone for a while?”, you spoke faster than you thought, the knot in your throat repressing your usual voice as to why it sounded forced even to you.

In no time Alice and your mother exited the room, leaving you alone with the guy who let his big guys take care of you, who murdered two men in an alley and who is definitely about to take your life as well. The same feeling that numbed your limbs yesterday was taking its toll on your now again.

“How are you feeling today?”, he broke the silence – Mr. Chen?

Flinching at his voice your nostrils blew a little, fear and strong, heavy fury running through your veins. “Fuck off, you dirty fucker.”

“Harsh words to your one and only saviour”, faked disappointment and sarcasm lacing his dark voice. “Manners, my cute little girl, mean that you should be thanking me and not insulting the one who rescued you from a dirty lane, laying on the ground, bleeding in your own vomit.” He pulled his brows back up, a mocking smile exchanging the faint one he shot towards your mother a moment ago.

You felt furious, veins pulsating with hatred more than you felt anxiety. Bloody hell, you would face this man as the grim reaper he is, not flinching if he pulled out a razor sharp knife, but instead of threatening you for your own life, he started to chuckle. The sound ringing in your ears making you shudder.

“I didn't come here to murder you”, he spit fire. “I want to offer you something you aren't allowed to decline, little girl.”

“That is not an offer, you bastard. This would be a threat. Learn your own conditions ere you come here and try to pull something”, your voice was reserved, drawing attention to the obviousness of your words with a pulled eyebrow. Big confidence y/n. Better shut up.

The man grinned, seemingly liking your bold attitude towards him. “Sure”, his deep voice echoed quietly through the room. “Listen, I'm here in person and that should be honour enough, you showed backbone, resisted me and mocked my men and myself. You think you get through with that without suffering a loss? I answer it for you. No, you are not.” He folded his hands on your bed, chin laying on them as he observed you, eyes filled with interest and the mocking amusement he showed you even yesterday. “What do you think about being my company for official occasions in my kind of territory? It's not easy being a bad ass boss if every woman you meet is afraid of you, boring. Unlike you. I don't like beating around the bush, little girl. Do it or you won't hinder me in getting to know your lovely mother a bit more.”

His severe threat hung in the hospital room, its stench overwhelming even the strong smell of the sanitizer. The smirk of his mocking, challenging and superior, knowing your answer before you started to think your possibilities through.

Your breath was stuck in your hurting throat at the thought this cruel man would touch your mother or anybody else who you loved, making you sick. Of course you had to agree, he knew it as he spoke out the worst of words.

“Don't. Touch. Her!”, your voice was cold as ice, eyes showing what you felt; hatred. “If you do, I will chase you in your dreams, Mr!”

The man clapped his hands, snickering at your words. “I chose you exactly because of your loose mouth, keep going”, he grinned, pearly whites showing for your display. “After your stay some of my men will escort you further.”

He stood up, the chair pushed back while smirking down at you. Shudders ran down your spine, you felt like vomiting and as you were finally alone in your room again tears rolled down your face. Sobs filled the small room, violently you tried to muffle them with your hands around your mouth. This short visit crushed your whole life. You knew that everyone close to you would be at danger if you would've protested against him. Up until now you had no idea what this man's business contained, his name or the reason he chose you for his cruel, sick games, but one thing you were confident about: He could try to make your life a living hell, but the first time he would show you his back he was dead meat.

Your tears still flowed down as Alice and your mother entered the room again, chatting ere they saw you. They had a hard time calming you down, your breath hitching as you wiped off your tears. Both women asked you out, but you wouldn't say anything this man did or said, he had seen your closest friend and family. If you didn't behave and obeyed whatever his next command was you knew that he wouldn't hesitate taking whatever you loved from you. You had seen it ins his eyes, shocking cruelness, no fear of consequences.

After your visitors left, you felt ice cold, limbs cramped, but you were determined that nothing this man did would make you and your hatred falter.

Yoongi was late. He visited you an hour ago completely forgetting his next meet up to make business with his typical client and friend. Light-footed he walked to the door of the old building Hoseok would wait in to conclude the contract he had talked Yoongi in. His thoughts were elsewhere, but business first, so he shook his thatch, signature cold mask his expression as he stepped inside the building, two big guys behind him.

“Min Yoongi”, a familiar voice greeted him, the face of the man in front of him as handsome as ever. “Long time no see.”

“Three days”, Yoongi answered, crossing his arms in front of his black shirt. “Have the papers?”

Hoseok sighed, nodding as he pulled a white sheet out of the metallic case in front of him. It was a contract of a bunch of weapons illegally shipped to the two dumb guys who now lay seven feet under the earth. They tried to interfere in his business deals, threatening him to take everything he loved from him. Too bad he loved nothing more than money, and money was so easy to get back to. But he wouldn't let anybody live who even tried to form the words of a threat towards him. Never. Well, at least not as long as they weren't you.

Three days ago Hoseok coaxed him into dealing with these two fuckers, guaranteeing him that he would get fifty percent of the commodity as well as forty percent of the upcoming profit if Hoseok's other business contract was a success. But Yoongi knew that dealing with weapons wasn't the best income the underground scene worked with right now. Organ trade and the newest technical gadgets which could crack important persons' bank accounts were the shit on the black market right now. He knew it as he was the one who started this kind of trade a few years ago, but Hoseok and the other clients of his didn't know how mighty Yoongi really was. They would only start to avoid him or worse, trying to kill him to get access of his belongings. Although he knew the man who stood in front of him better than anyone else,he should never know which field Yoongi usually played on. The league certainly too dangerous for him.

“Fifty percent of the trade and forty of the money I earn with the next one”, Hoseok said, looking at Yoongi who signed the piece of paper with his signature autograph. “It's always a pleasure to make a deal with you, Yoongi.”

Yoongi grinned, his eyes unfathomable as he watched the handsome man in front of him shoving the sheet inside the case again before he reached out his hand. “Sure thing, but don't you think to change from weapons to a new scene? It brings in more money than this kind of market, Hoseok.”

The other man shook his head. “Not going to happen. It's too dangerous.”

He didn't quite get him. Too dangerous? Underground scenes were always on thin ice. You knew how to use men and women, guns and traps? You live. Trying to deal with the big fishes without having backup or an empire behind you? You're dead. There's no in between. Either you side with the mighty or you lose everything that you hold dear. Yoongi had to experience this kind painfully early, with the age of fifteen.

His father was the boss of several scenes on the black market, but after he lost a few of important partners and teamed up with a weak, old man who claimed to be the big boss of one company abroad he had lost it all. First his mother, his father's second wife, shot in the head as she drove with Yoongi to his piano lessons with age thirteen. Then Yoongi's older brother who was a loser, a weak nerd who decided to study abroad, medicine his only passion. He was found dead, shredded to a mess, inside a warehouse of the man his father thought was the boss of a firm. He had given him everything and as Yoongi turned fifteen he had the choice himself. Working with that cruel bastard who murdered his brother and killed his mother as he was present or getting shot by one of his own gun. His father coaxed him into choosing death as he was forced to give his whole money, buildings and family to this fucker, losing everything he owned and loved to someone who claimed to be fragile but turned out to be the western underground boss.

As you can see, he didn't chose death like his father. No, Yoongi first shot the man who gave him life and then reached out for his own head, the western boss laughing like hell at him. Yoongi just grinned, almost pulling the trigger as this retard was so dumb to turn around, clapping like a seal and insulting the young boy's family honour with phrases such as: “His mother was the perfect whore! Fucked here the evening before I let her head explode. Now look at this child, brave enough to shoot his father and a coward to chose death! Hilarious!” It was his own wife he talked to as it was a dinner only the both of them were invited to. This man wasn't afraid of him. Until another loud shot filled the expensive furnished house of him.

“Oh, I'm sorry, but it seems that your wife's head just exploded like my mother's did”, Yoongi chuckled, the gun firing a salve of bullets in the man's direction, hitting his shoulder several times. One bullet left, Yoongi lazily slandered forward, reaching the body of the man's wife, kicking her bleeding head ere he smiled coldly. “Guess it is time to say good-bye.”

“What the fuck you son of a bitch! You're dead meat if I call-”

The last bullet fired into the throat of the talking man who held his shoulder as he kneeled beside his dead wife.

“Who do you want to call now? Too late old man”, Yoongi said, patting the man's head as blood streamed out his throat. Maybe five or ten minutes and not a sound would be heard out of his body.

Just then Yoongi let the gun fall to the ground, feeling the stinging pain behind his eyes he felt as he heard from his brother's death or stood next to his mother's coffin. But he swore as he searched for a box of matches that he would never shed a tear for something he loved a second time. If it's gone, then so it should be, but nobody and he swore that by his own name, nobody would take anything from him, ever again.

After he burned the house down he was determined to build his own empire, be the boss of every damn human being and start his own business. And that was the beginning, a lost family and a promise to himself made him the man he was today. Some might say he was cruel, had no heart and was ice cold, a beast who thirsted for money, but it wasn't like he had a chance to be someone else. Therefore he helped out at whatever charity he laid eyes on, gave his employees enough money to have a huge family and had a dog at home. It gave two sides of him, but he would never admit the one to anyone who had a beating heart. Whatever could be done with money was done by him.

“Are you even listening?”, Hoseok's voice woke him up, shaking him out of his grumpy thoughts about his past.  

“Of course I am”, Yoongi scoffed at his friend and partner who pulled his eyebrows up.

“Great then it's set. I introduce her to you, but be nice, yes?”

Blinking he nodded, too proud to tell Hoseok that he wasn't listening actually, caged in his past as he was talking about someone he addressed with 'her'. He didn't care, shrugging his shoulders while he said his farewell to Hoseok.

“See you next week at the audition then”, he said, leaving the handsome man behind to get into the expensive car that parked in front of the old building's entrance.

Next week.. Audition.. He sighed, massaging his temples whereas he thought about the possibilities and dangers about next weeks event. Yoongi held this audition, deals with the highest valued trades concluded with powerful people, women and men alike. As the host everyone expected the most beautiful or sexiest accompany and he was lucky that he found you. Not just that, but exclusive food, costly champagne and the best entertainment program the city had to offer from him as he was the biggest fish right now. The threat and the murder you witnessed should be enough to let you stay put at least this night. He'd never concede the fact that he needed you, his honour stood on the edge if the others saw him alone wherefore it gave you. Obviously he would be able to be escorted by models, singers or actresses, but he found a liking at your loose mouth and the way you didn't fear his appearance, yet, although you had seen him at his worst – or best what he could do. Of course he had the most influence in this scene and the ground they walked on belonged to him, but one small rumour and the underground scene would go wild around him.

Yoongi had witnessed this several times, people with power falling down because of one small mistake, a wrong word or a fatal trade. His family the best example. Therefore he would visit you at your home in a few days.

The car parked in front of his house, the huge, electronic fence with electroshocking effect open for him. At home he called his men to escort you not to his mansion, but to your own home. He wanted you on 'friendly' terms and not dead after your next meet up, his patience utterly thin as he received a message he didn't expect.

Two beefy, grumpy men explained that they had the command to bring you home that night, visitors time long over as you tried to close your eyes to get some rest. In vain. They barged in as if they owned this place and your heart sank to the bottom of the ocean. You struggled to keep up with their pace, legs wobbling while your head still felt as if it would split in the middle. The anxiety in your bones paralysing your movements as you stumbled forward.

“Move, bitch”, one of the retards turned your way, his eyes cold and you bet he was pissed that he had the task to escort a young woman, a nuisance for his big, important plans. You scoffed at him. “If the boss doesn't kill you, I will the time he releases you out of his grip.”

“Try”, you mumbled while the three of you reached a costly, black van in which you were pushed in.

The time you set food inside your apartment you fell down, the floor hard and cold under your face. Exhaustion, pain and fear made your body tremble. You weren't afraid of the man who did all this to you, of the two bad boys down the stairs in front of your home or for your own life. Hours you spent thinking about a way to just escape, but it was useless. He knew your name, address, your parents address and also Alice's. How could you just go and leave them in his hands? Right, you couldn't. And this was the only fear that cramped your limbs. Losing your whole heart to a cruel man's sick plans.

With tears falling down your cheeks onto the ground, you felt darkness surrounding you, sleep slowly creeping its way inside your head. Relieved you exhaled, until nightmares made your sleep another terrible place you thought you could hide in for a while.

To your positive surprise was the rest of the week completely silent. No sick freak in sight, no annoying co-workers as you had the rest off, no damn person getting on your nerves while you curled up under a blanket on your couch, your favourite TV-series playing on the screen, but you did everything but watch it.

Your thoughts roamed to the night your life started to turn. It was five days ago, your bruises vanishing and mind still hazy whenever the bell rang, your phone vibrated or a loud noise woke you up at night. Several friends had asked if they should keep you company after what happened, but you immediately denied every request, too afraid that the bastard would take them a hostage of your obedience as well.

By time you had developed a deep feeling of fear of every sound on the street, the thought of him seeing you inside your apartment huge as you turned the TV's volume up, the loud speakers deafening the noises of cars, steps and the ringing bell. You shrieked as you heard it. Neither your mom nor anybody else had called you for a visit wherefore you didn't move an inch. And there it was again and again until you heard a key turn in the lock of your door, your stomach turning upside down as you jumped up.

Nobody owned a copy of your key, not even your parents! Adrenalin shot through your veins, the pyjama's shorts so tiny that the autumn air in your apartment made your hair stand up. Luckily you had the bright idea to shop at the nearest hardware store, an axe, a baseball bat and several boxes of nails which you laid out at night under the carpets lining from the front door to the living room. In the blur of the five seconds you had time you snatched the baseball bat, the axe which was far more efficient, hidden underneath your bed, but you had no time to get it right now.

“Whoever there is, I dare you to push the door open”, you shouted through the dark corridor, your position slightly crouching, bat held up high, ready to hit the person invading your private rooms. But there was only one man on this planet you had in mind. “I count to three and if you leave I refrain from calling the police!” Useless threat, you knew it yourself. Whoever wanted to do something to you could just do that. You were a woman, young and without the strength to fight against a man.

A deep chuckle rang through the door, his voice as dark as you heard it the last time inside the hospital room. Shudders and cold sweat ran down your back, your eyes wide with shock although you knew it already. Who else would be so polite to break in with a key?

“Go away!”, you cried out, rushing to the still closed door to throw your body against it. “Talk through the fucking door or leave!”

Silence. You waited there, body clinging on the door-handle for whole five minutes before you slowly separated yourself to look through the small peep-hole. It was dark, your brows furrowed, but ere you could react the door was pushed open with a strong heave, your face colliding with the wooden material letting you stumble back, falling down with the baseball bat in your hand.

“You're too stubborn, little girl”, his voice was heard inside your home while you rubbed your nose and opened your eyes. There he stood, the darkness around him letting his pale skin glow as it reflected the soft light of your living room's lamps. His arms were crossed in front of him, eyebrows pulled up, the typical smug smirk plastered on his damn handsome face. “I even rang the fucking bell for you to open the door, but what did you do? Ignore me!”, he chuckled, an inside joke? “Luckily I made a copy of your key. So, ready to talk things through?”

You didn't move, jaw dropping as he just walked passed your body, kicking the bat out of your hand – he hurt your skin with his bugfucking black boots – ere he sat down on your couch as if it was his own. Without moving your body your head turned towards the man who casually crossed his legs, arms spread out on the rest while tilting his head in your direction. You contemplated of running, but a picture flashed inside your head: Alice and your mom laying on the ground of an alley, faces deformed while he stood in front of them with the corpus delicti.

“Come here or do you think I will shout it all?”

Flinching at his loud words you gritted your teeth, the rude comment swallowing down while you stood up, the bat too far from you to grab it without notice.

“What do you want?”, you spit at him as you leaned against the frame of the door never letting him out of your hatred filled eyes.

“Oh girl”, he said as if it was a lazy thursday evening and he ordered food to talk about the newest episode of your shared favourite TV show, not about his sick actions and threats towards you. “I came to introduce myself and my world to you.”

“I don't even care who you are. Leave my family alone, you sick freak”, you trembled while you heartbeat increased with every phrase of his. It made you uncomfortable to listen to his melodious calm voice, because it was strangely dark, beautiful in your ears.

The man laughed again, his pearly whites showing and you had the feeling that he looked a thousand times younger, rather cute with an actual smile on his face. “First of all, keep that attitude, like it. But most importantly here, I'm Min Yoongi, not Mr. Chen, it's just an anonymous name. The underground scene is my territory and workplace. You could say, I'm the biggest catch on the black market right now, not even the Western Mafia is able to take my business down as I burned theirs to ashes a while ago”, he sounded so full of himself while you started to crunch your face, his words made no sense for you. The police busted the crime scene of all drug lords, the black market and arrested the bosses of all underground activities two years ago. So it was nonsense he tried to tell you wherefore you chuckled the more you thought about it.

It was one thing to be the hostage of a cruel man, but he was a freak. Lunatic, caged inside his own fantasies of being an underground king. He was dangerous, unpredictable as he turned out to be more psychotic than you imagined.

“I'm sorry Min Yoongi, but you are extremely sick in your brain, right? Better tell me a lie I can believe and don't try to fog my mind with your cute story about being a big fish. I don't believe that shit”, you laughed, holding your stomach, the previous adrenalin clouding your rightful judgement as you looked at him. You were the insane one to seemingly laugh at him about his fake name and identity and maybe it was time to shut up y/n.

“Are you laughing at me right now?”, his voice was dangerously quiet, all senses of amusement gone. His eyes were narrowed, darkness filling them as he silently stood up, his steps large, bringing his body closer to your own.

You nodded, wiping off a tear as you calmed down from your adrenalin lead outburst about his dumb story. But before you could fathom what happened next, you were pressed violently against the frame you leaned on, a big, veiny hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing as to why you had hard time breathing, every noise stuck in your pressed throat. Wide eyes locked with Yoongi's furious ones, making you stop every movement in one go. This distance allowed you to see the light scar you had already witnessed in the hospital room, the dark light around you swallowing its sight from you until now.

“Nobody is laughing at me, got it? Not you, nobody who has a fucking beating heart”, his voice was soft, far too calm for your liking. “Believe it or not, if you try anything again, might it be not opening your fucking door or mocking me, your pretty face wouldn't be as pretty anymore. Better write it on your list, little girl, before I lose my temper the next time”, after he emphasised the word 'fucking' his voice got an octave lighter, loud words ringing in your ears as it was impossible to breathe, his hand heavily strong enclosed around your throat. “Answer me.”

It was everything but a nod, even though he understood and let your aching body go. With a thud you landed in front of his shoes, holding your throat while you inhaled more oxygen than necessary. Slight coughs filled the room whereas Yoongi didn't move away from his position, feet touching your bare knees on the floor.

“I'll never apologise to you, y/n”, he whispered your name the first time which let you look up, his face cast in shadows again, eyes hidden by the darkness around him. “Now stand up and listen carefully.”

Wobbling your stood up, the first time seriously afraid of him. The story of his seemed to be true, but you didn't want to believe it with all your senses.

“Don't look at me with those eyes”, another whisper, honesty and pain in it which made you confident that he had a split personality.

“Talk”, you said weakly, taking a seat in the armchair across from the couch he sat on. You watched him intensely, his movements, his eyes, his lips at his next words, attentive to little details. He had pale skin, flushed by the action, clothes as dark as before, but the metallic case he had with him new.

“As I already told you. My name is Min Yoongi, don't ever call me 'Mr. Min' if you're alone with me. To be honest, I don't know why, but I see potential in your loose mouth. You're not afraid of myself, my actions another category. I like that and need an accomplice for some expensive trades with a client abroad”, he started his explanation, the doubts about the truth of his words slowly disappearing which let you glance at him wonderingly. “I don't want you to interfere in my business, just hold your eyes open whenever I tell you to. This weekend, saturday night to be precise, is an important audition and I get the feeling a spy is following me wherefore I need you.”

He was kidding, right? Why you? And why not one of his god damn employees? You were pretty sure he had plenty of women lining the alley to his door. But ere you could speak up he motioned you to stay put and listen further.

“You're unknown, not the least suspicious unlike other women who are content with that kind of business. If you're a nice little girl and follow my rules I let you free if the rat is caught and as dead as the other two whose bodies you witnessed. They played on my ground, killed the family of one of my men, kids and women alike.”

You swallowed the knot in your throat. The last fact rushing passed you as the only thing in your mind were his first words. I let you free if the rat is caught.. Your family and friends would be save again as long as you played by his rules. Free after his enemy was caught. The part with killing him shoved to the furthest corner inside your head you nodded slowly.

“What if you don't find him?”, your question hang between your head a few seconds before Yoongi leaned forwards, elbows laying down onto his legs. The smug grin was back as he never left your face with his dark, now light illuminated eyes. You saw it, challenge, confidence and something your couldn't define burning behind his oculars.

“You really think I won't be able to find him?”, he asked quietly, voice amused again, the outburst of both of you forgotten. “Make sure to do as I say and watch out for a special person when I tell you to on saturday and if you do a good job you're ready to leave that night already. Deal?”

You heard yourself enthusiastically shouting a word before you could realize it was your voice you heard. “Deal.”

“A few conditions have to be talked about and then I let you alone with your thoughts”, his voice mocked you, grin spread over his teeth. But he was right, you would think about everything if he left, especially about being save after saturday – if you were lucky enough.

“Go on already, I don't have the whole damn night”, you tried to masquerade the bit relief that crawled on your face, looking pissed was way better, keeping up the face of a strong woman without emotions.

Yoongi leaned back again, his arms wrapped around the rest a second time this night while he inhaled, looking at you with unfathomable dark eyes without saying a word. Nervously you fidgeted in your seat, his intense gaze let your hands sweat, heart racing.

“Don't mock me, little girl. It's fatal”, Yoongi started his excursion about how to behave and what to do if he was present. “Don't talk to anybody if not necessary at the audition. I'll tell you if you can, and by god, don't disagree with my story about you. One wrong word.. Further you should stay at my mansion as long as he isn't caught, after saturday, if we did not find him. It's far more dangerous for you and your family if they know where you live, let alone knowing your face.”

Encouraging, Min Yoongi, you thought, crossing your arms in front of your chest as you listened to his conditions. Up until now you couldn't disagree with him, except for the point of agreeing with every insult he might throw at you if you're surrounded by his people. Okay, maybe there was a second aspect.

“I won't move in with you. Not for a second. Mhm”, you stated your opinion with a fanning movement of your hand. “I can understand your points that it's dangerous, but I gladly accept that.”

“Don't be stupid. You wouldn't even get a glance on me, just stay there and be ready to be my personal detector”, he responded, the tone of his voice not allowing any disobedience.

“You really think I believe every word that comes out your mouth?”

“Do it or not, if you're ready at seven on saturday that's enough for the beginning”, Yoongi shrugged his shoulders, seemingly not caring about your objections. “Now shut up and listen again. You will be escorted by the two guys you already had the pleasure meeting. They sit inside a car near your house to protect you for two days. Ignore them and the most important condition is: Open eyes and obeying my orders. I contact you if something changes till saturday.”

Your lips formed a thin line while you nodded. You could start a discussion with him, the rage in your veins pooling at the edges, the bit restraint you had pushed back with force. The fact that he held you on a leash drove you crazy, but what should you do? It wasn't your life you were afraid about, but your families and friend's. Therefore you nodded stiffly, neck restraining to form this simple action.

“Perfect. I have your number and call you tomorrow. If you want something ask Ron or Mike downstairs”, with that he stood up, eyes darting around your room for the first time that night. “Meek apartment, y/n. And here I thought you could have at least a bit of fashion sense.”

“Oh, I dare you to mock me right now. You piss me off, your conditions stupid, so leave finally”, you had enough. The short visits shattered your nerves. His chuckles the icing, but as you reached out to push him forward you stopped dead in mid-air. What were you doing? Touching the enemy?

He didn't say another word as you followed his dark figure through the even darker corridor to the front door ere he stopped, his hand on the doorknob. “Just a tip. Don't use a baseball bat against burglars, you're too weak and would hurt yourself. See?”, his head pointed towards the scratch he had caused on your skin as you sat on the floor with the bat in your hand.

“It was your boot, you retard and now go”, you shoved him out, touching the leather jacket of his, feeling the heat radiating through the fabric as to why you flinched back. The spot your palms made contact with his clothes slightly tingling. Disgusted you wiped them off on your shorts while the door fell in its lock. After a few minutes of silence you exhaled.

The endings of your nerves still twitched after he was long gone, his manly cologne intoxicating your apartment even through the closed door that lead to your bedroom. You couldn't bring yourself to close your eyes to fall into a deep, dreamless sleep rather shoved yourself of your bed to slander to the bathroom across the floor. Your reflection blinked a few times, strange, happy tears grazing your cheeks at the thought of an end to your nightmare.

Five fucking days felt like five years as you wiped your tears with the back of your hand. Min Yoongi..his name rang in your ears, a silent mantra inside your clouded mind like a warning signal, bright lights blinking as if it was a neon sign signalling customers to enter an open bar. Min. Yoongi. Yoongi. Something gnawed on you, a thought you couldn't really touch while you splashed cold water in your face. Drops of wetness flowed down your flushed face, the previous encounter let you feel too much. Too many different emotions. Unbearable fear as he squeezed down your throat, relief at his words of your freedom, disgust at his conditions to stay with him after saturday was over. Not even compressed they fit inside your brain!

“Play along, y/n, then you're free. If he holds his words though”, you talked to yourself, calming your electrified nerves while you reminded yourself that it could be over if you just made a good job as his 'companion' for the night. Hopefully you could recognize the described person, busting its damned plans and happily walked away.

Plan all set you smiled encouraging at your reflection, the shot grimace not even a resemblance of a smile wherefore you flinched back. You gave up the tries of being a positive person as you lazily set one foot after the other towards your bedroom. This night was a haze of peaceful sleep, his – you claimed it to be one – promise lulling you in, your mind at ease as you thought about his words..let you free.. After nights with maximum two hours of sleep it felt like heaven as you woke up to the sunshine illuminating your room, determined to call your parents and invite Alice over before you may start as Min Yoongi's, an underground lord's, accompany for his business event, a detector of his enemy.

“No way, y/n! You can't live alone anymore. And by the way would I feel so relieved to know you at my place”, Alice was angry, her beautiful face red from anger. She tried to coax you in living with her a few blocks down the street. Again. Alice was on the opinion that you weren't safe anymore after the incident on your birthday, the icing that you hadn't made contact to her after you got home, ignoring her messages and calls intentionally, but that was a secret.

“God, Alice, please calm down. I'm perfectly fine”, you rolled your eyes back to your head, hand holding onto hers as she looked at you with the most worried expression.

“No way”, she repeated, her face contoured in determination to make you come with her. “Tell me one thing why you shouldn't move in with me. I mean, shared rent, your best friend always around you, not eating one more dinner alone”, she smiled, her eyebrows cocked up high.

“I-I like my apartment?”, your argument sounded weak and it was an obvious lie. Alice knew how much you hated living here, the house cold in the winter, hot in the summer, small and loud, but it was cheap. And of course you had contemplated to ask her if you could live in cohabitation, but not now. If everything was over, then you would be happy to agree with her suggestion.

“Yeah, right, y/n and I-”

You door bell rang, interrupting your friend mid-sentence. Stiff you walked to your door, expecting the worst as you looked through the peephole, this time seeing a postman standing on your porch instead of a black hole.

“For y/l/n”, he said, handing you a package before leaving with fast steps. Confused you closed the door, eyes glued to the neatly wrapped box in your hands. It had a dark red color, a black ribbon enclosed around it and a card attached to it. With shaking hands you read it, your jaw dropping to the ground at its words.

Wear it and look like the women who are usually seen with me. And make sure the microphone works. I pick you up at seven.

Your heartbeat increased as you read the small card, his handwriting neat and pretty, so not like his appearance. On one hand you were excited what might be inside the box for you to wear, but on the other you wanted to open the trash can to drop it were it belonged.

“What's this?”, Alice made wide eyes as you hid the card inside your pocket, shrugging your shoulders as if you didn't care whose present you just got.

“Just an order of mine”, you said, dropping the package next to the baseball bat on your shelf in the corridor. “How about we go and eat lunch?”, you tried to distract your nosy friend who watched the box intensely before she inhaled.

“Y/n, since when are you having so fucking much money? Damn girl, have a sugar daddy or what?”

Pulling up your eyebrows you glanced at the box again. You had not realized what brand was printed on it. It shook you as you kicked the box, furious that he had to send you such a bugfucking expensive 'gift'. “Stop it, y/n. Better open it instead of destroying its content!”

“Forget it”, you said chuckling, but then you remembered that she didn't know of that sick deal with Min Yoongi and reprimanded to act as usual. “Maybe later, okay? First let's go eat, I'm starving here.”

Suspicion laced Alice's eyes as you avoided her gaze. “Not a chance.”

You turned around in front of the big mirror which reflected your body from top to toe. Black elegant silk lined your body, the soft fabric like sand in your hands whose slowly slid down the material from your breasts down to your hips, ending at the long slit that showed your leg. It was shoulder free, black diamonds casing the gentle belt around your waist.

“You look so beautiful”, Alice looked at you in awe, sitting cross legged on your bed while you slipped into the dress, which lay inside the box, on your body. Carefully, not to rip the expensive dress in two pieces. “Too bad you have to sent it back.”

Gulping you also glanced at your back sight, the words which filled the room ignoring. You never looked that pretty in your whole life, the fact that it was caused by an underground lord made you quite angry, but the sight alone let you forget from whom you got it. Just then your phone started to play your favourite song, Alice picking it up cheerfully.

“Y/n super best friend Alice here, what can I do for you?” Her expression changed from confusion to embarrassment as she handed you your phone in silence.

“Hello?”

“Got the dress and mic I sent you?”, Yoongi's voice was calm, but you heard the menacing undertone that not you picked up his call, but your friend. Eyes darting towards Alice who just blushed in her seat you turned around again.

“Yes.”

“Does it fit?”

“Yes.”

“And the damn mic? I don't have plenty time to talk to you”, he pressed you further, but you couldn't look away from the young woman who watched you out of the mirror, the black dress fitting perfectly on her body. On you.

“Yes. What do you want anyway?”, your voice spit fire ere you locked eyes with Alice who tilted her head.

“Seven o'clock, be ready”, Yoongi bluffed before he hung up on you, seemingly pissed at your tone of voice. But you didn't care what he really wanted as you slid the dress down your figure. It fell down with a silent rustle while you turned towards your best friend.

“Just my secret ex, nothing more”, you smiled innocently, but the girl whose head was still tilted just shook her head.

“And here I thought we both had no secrets, y/n. This man made clear that he fucks you, not a trace of being your 'ex-boyfriend'”, Alice expression showed her amusement whereas she crossed her arms, not believing the shitty lie you told her and definitely not noticing who was talking to her recently. “I sense your lies like my own baby.”

You nervously laughed, your face suddenly pale as you processed her said words. Fucking him? Never ever, not in a million years, but you better played along.

“Ah sorry that I didn't tell you, Alice”, you scratched your neck, sweat from his sudden call wetting your hair.

“It's okay, but make sure we go on a double date some time”, she grinned at you while she stood up, lifting the dress from the floor you stood on. “Should I take it with me to the post office?”

You shook your head, taking the costly black silk out of her hands.

“No need to”, you smiled stiffly at her as you stuffed the dress back inside the box. The thought about tomorrow evening started to sink through your bones, the black color reminding you of the man who would be your strange boss for a day.

Would it turn out alright? Were you ready to play along with his charade or would you lose yourself when you stood next to him? Was it fear you felt or just the adrenalin paralysing your limbs? You didn't know what to expect, but one thing was for sure: You would never lose yourself in him and his cruel methods.

[letstrysomefanfic]

I Thought We Already Weren’t PART 3 (Peter Parker x Reader Angst)

Request: anonymous asked: Ooh I love angst!! Can you do something where the reader has a huge crush on peter but he likes Liz and he asks her out on date and he asks the reader for help with everything so she basically plans the whole thing for him and he keeps saying things like “wow ur such a good friend” and out of jealousy she asks Flash on a date and they start to go out and Peter says he’s not good enough for her and they get into a huge argument and deicde it’s better if they stop being friends…

Word Count: 1,772

Warnings: angst... lot’s of it 

A/N: So wow i gotta admit this one’s gotta be the saddest i think out of all the parts haha sorry (not sorry) and hey, if you want, it hurts more if you listen to ‘Amnesia’ by 5SOS (just a thought, if you’re into feeling rly sad whilst reading this). But wow thanks so much to all those who’re enjoying this request-oneshot-turned-series! I’m soooooo glad you guys are loving it cuz i’m having such a ball writing it! ❤️❤️ So anyway I think I’m gonna be doing one last part after this, cuz i have such a great way of ending it, i think but more on that later ;} (also i didn’t edit or proofread this really so sorry for grammar lol)

again, anon, if you’re out there THANK YOU for this request ❤️❤️

Part 1   Part 2   Part 4

“Helloooo? Earth to Peter…” Liz summoned Peter from his deep thoughts about what Flash could possibly try to do tonight to ‘wow you’. He jerked his head toward her, off his propped up forearm.

“Sorry,” he stammered. “What were you saying again?”

“I was just asking what you got for number four ‘cause my equation looks different from yours…” Liz looked at him with concern. “Are you okay?” she whispered.

“Hm? Yeah yeah, no yeah I’m good,” he squeaked. Crap he thought.

“Are you sure, Peter? Because you’ve been—”

“Liz, I’m fine,” he snapped. She withdrew a little, eyebrows still furrowed with worry. Peter immediately regretted speaking so sharply; he knew she was only worried and wasn’t trying to be annoying. But every time he was with her he felt guilty. He would spend the entire time in her company trying to force himself to not feel that way, or at least figure out why; but he just couldn’t.

“Okay, come on,” she grabbed ahold of Peter’s wrist firmly and led them away from their library table.

“What—where’re we going?”

Liz led them up the stairs, through the science wing, up the narrow fire escape stairway, until they finally hit open air. She leaned back on an AC unit, and even though her arms were crossed, her face was soft and expectant.

“Look, I know I’m not supposed to push and stuff if you don’t want to tell me what’s going on,” she began. “But, Peter, you gotta give me something! You have to talk to me.”

“W—What?” he stammered. “We are talking, what do you mean I don’t want to tell you what’s going on? Nothing’s going on…”

Liz cocked her head at him, “Nothing going on? Peter, you haven’t been yourself lately, and it’s making me kinda worried.”

Peter hung his head. The last time he had a conversation about him not being himself still stung potent in his mind. The last thing he wanted now was for this discussion to end up like the last one.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been myself lately,” he pleaded. “I just… honestly just… I… I don’t know what’s going on with me, like I’m trying to figure it out but I just can’t and—” Peter faltered when he saw Liz’s eyes. The worry was hidden behind a deep sadness that he didn’t even know could be seen through someone’s eyes. “What?” he shakily asked.

“I know what’s going on with you, Peter,” Liz whispered. “And I think you know it too, but you don’t want to admit it. God, this sucks,” she muttered. She glanced up, blinking rapidly, trying to put back the tears that were forming against her will. “But that’s what makes you all the more so… so… so good and this so fucking hard.”

Peter couldn’t even speak. He could feel his old friend, guilt, clawing up his stomach and latching onto his chest. He knew what was coming, and he knew why, but he didn’t want to believe it. Part of him wanted what was coming too, but not like this. No, this was going to hurt too much.

Liz took a shaky breath, “I know you haven’t been hanging around Ned and (Y/N) as much. I know you and (Y/N), had like this… this falling out kinda thing. I know you haven’t been the same since that. I know you see me differently now, even though you try so hard to fight against it and not show it, and for that, Peter, thank you. Because I know that that’s so hard to do.

“But I also know how you look at her—don’t feel guilty; you can’t help it. You know you can’t keep a secret to save your life. It’s also just one of those things no one can help or hide. I’ve seen the way you look at her, Peter. It’s okay,” she uncrossed her arms and gripped Peter’s shoulders. His eyes were welling up as well, no matter how hard he clenched his throat or bit his lip. “That way you look at her, Peter? You used to look at me just like that, when you thought I wouldn’t notice. Well, there was less sadness in your eyes then, but considering all things now…”

Peter regretted that what she was saying was true. It was every little thing that had gone through his mind these past couple weeks, but refused to truly believe. He wished it didn’t have to be like this. There had to have been some other way this could’ve played out where no one was crying, where no one was regretting anything.

The only thing he could muster out was a small, “I’m sorry…”

Liz pulled him into a hug. For the first time in weeks, this one didn’t feel empty. Peter didn’t feel distant or like he wanted it to be over so it wouldn’t feel awkward. This was a hug he didn’t want to step away from because it felt real.

“I know,” she whispered. “But I don’t want to be part of the reason you’re not happy.” They stood there, softly holding each other for what they knew was probably the last time. “I just regret not asking sooner. I can’t imagine what it must be like, carrying that around with you all this time…”

“You don’t deserve this,” Peter mumbled into her hair. He felt her exhale a chuckle.

“Yeah, but,” she pulled away, looking down, “life isn’t really about deserving, is it?”

Peter echoed her movements, anxiously twiddling his fingers as Liz began to walk back to the exit.

“Just promise me, you guys’ll both figure it out, okay?” she called back. Peter looked up at her, forcing himself to nod. Liz’s lips pursed into a bittersweet smile, and she turned and shut the door behind her, leaving a physically, mentally, and emotionally numb Peter.

Sightings of Spiderman had doubled within these last few weeks, and the crime rate dropping by nearly the same amount. Many were applauding his productivity, wondering how Queen’s local hero had become so efficient and driven lately.

But you and Ned knew why. It was his distraction. Like those Flash dates had been for you. At least Peter’s was more constant and fulfilling than just your two hours every week.

It wasn’t like the hot air balloon lunch upstate wasn’t completely distracting, or the early screening of some new movie Flash was into (seriously impressive, you had to admit). They worked, but just for a short while. And once you really thought about it, you found that you felt worse afterward than you did before. You were just reminded of how you were trying oh so hard to forget the main reason you were doing those dates in the first place. It was like how you try so hard to forget something that you end up having it come to mind more.

Once Peter and Liz ended things, it didn’t stop your pain. But it did make you realize what you were doing was pointless. So you ended it. Not like Flash cared much anyway. But why make Peter suffer anymore than he was already. He didn’t need the weight of seeing you with Flash, added on to his guilt and sadness from Liz, crushing him more. 

“So what do you wanna watch now?” Ned asked, scrolling through the menu.

“I’m cool with anything really.”

As he selected ‘Ferris Buller’s Day Off’, he passed you the popcorn bowl. “So… have you talked to Peter yet?” he tried to ask lightly and casually.

You sighed, “You know I haven’t.”

Ned turned to you, his voice dropping into a more serious tone. “I think it’s about time you guys face this head on, you know? Confront it. Confront him. Well maybe not confront him, but at least talk to him—”

“Honestly, Ned, I think I’m just gonna feel a whole lot shittier if I do that.”

“Well I can’t keep being the mediator between you two! Honestly I always feel like I have to evenly split my time between you two, running from one end of school to the other just to hang with my two best friends, who don’t even want to talk to each other!”

“You know you don’t have to do that, Ned.”

“I know but I do anyway. ‘Cause I love you guys and if I can do anything to help you guys be happy, I will! So, that’s why I’m saying you guys need to talk.”

“I don’t even know if he’s ready, you know? To talk? I mean it’s only been like what? Two weeks since, you know... That’s not that long—”

“Pretty sure he is now.”

“‘Pretty sure’?”

Ned glanced up from his phone. “Almost positive,” he assured.

You stared at the floor, contemplating whether it was worth it to or not to reopen that wound. You knew you both knew that you had hurt the other. What you didn’t know was whether you were ready to admit why. Why you were hurt in the first place, why you hurt him in return.

Suddenly the bed lurched as Ned leapt off of it, jerking you out of your head. “Sorry, I uh—,” he stumbled to shove his feet back in his shoes. “—I gotta go, I just remembered my mom set a new curfew, so… yeah.”

“What?” your brows furrowed. “Since when?”

“Since now, apparently?”

“What?”

“Sorry, (Y/N)! Enjoy Ferris Buller without me, I’ll see you Monday!” he sped out your door.

“Okay…? Bye?”

As your front door slammed shut with a loud BANG, you pulled out your phone and texted Ned to let you know when he got home. Reading the clock’s display of 10:41, you found it odd that Ned would suddenly barge out like that. You figured you could interrogate him on it back in school, so you laid back and started to scroll through your phone. As early as it was, you found yourself dozing off. Your eyes had just fluttered closed when—

*tap tap tap*

You bolted up, eyelids heavy, not sure if you had really heard it. Grabbing the remote, you shut the TV and listened again. Nothing. Beside you, your phone buzzed and you read Ned’s message.

You up still? it read.

Yeah why???? you replied.

No later had you hit the send button did you hear the window tapping again. You were sure it was real this time, and your body automatically responded faster than your mind did. Throwing the curtains back and raising the window, your heart beat up to your brain. You had no idea where this was going to take you. As you saw those fluffy brown curls amongst the scarlet and blue, your breath caught.

“Hey.”

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