#saw this post on break at work and i knew i had to doodle it the second i got home
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✧˚ · .Painting their portrait ✧˚ · .
Note: I hope everyone is doing well 💖 I hope you will enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it 💖 If you want to commission me check my ko-fi and pinned post for prices. Thank you!
When he found out about your talent, he immediately bought you the most expensive equipment. Whether you like to paint on a canvas or on a graphic tablet, he will buy you only the best products.
He's very old-fashioned and wants a classic portrait. He'll arrange a proper setting to fit his taste. With a fireplace in the background, an expensive suit, and some other decoration that screams old money, he’ll sit with his legs crossed in his comfy chair while he looks at you. A soft smile would appear on his face, especially when you two locked eyes. You thought about painting that lovely smile and contouring those sweet dimples, but you know him better and chose to leave a stoic expression on his face. His soft side is for your eyes only.
He won’t mind sitting for hours because he'll have the greatest company. You two will gossip about the hottest tea at work, talk about his latest projects, and besides that, he'll have his romantic moments when he tells you how much he cherishes you.
The final result leaves him in awe.
"Darling, this is astonishing." He said, amber eyes studying every inch of the canvas and feeling an immense sense of pride washing over him. He couldn't take his eyes off your masterpiece.
"I knew you had it in you," he began after a short period of total silence. "Yet you managed to exceed my expectations."
You breathe a sigh of relief. Even if he was your boyfriend, it was hard to please him. He didn't coddle you, so when he praised you, you knew it was real.
He will hang that portrait with pride in his office, and he’ll tell everyone with pride that his partner made the incredible art.
With the corner of his eye, he noticed how you kept shifting your gaze from your notebook to him. Sometimes you'd stare longer at him, and sometimes your hand would go faster and then slower as if you were trying to remember something. Sometimes, you would scratch your head with the pencil and sighed in frustration.
Whatever you were doodling, it wasn't coming along as you wanted.
Not being able to control his curiosity anymore, he slowly approached your desk.
"Whatcha doing there?" he asked, looking over your shoulder, directly in the notebook. A wide smile appeared shortly.
You didn't hide the page in time, and Leon saw the sketches with his face. You drew him from three different angles. Even if you were in a hurry, you still captured his soft features—his genuine smile and his gentle gaze.
"I- uh-I..." you fumbled, hands going in random directions over the paper.
"You don't have to hide it. I think it looks good." He smirked and went back to his desk.
"Thanks. Listen, I was taking a break, and I felt a bit of inspiration coming in-"
"You don't have to excuse yourself." He chucked and turned to face you. In that moment, you saw a faint blush on his cheeks. "I think it looks great, given how fast you draw."
"And given how much you fidget,"
He chuckled.
"Seriously, man, lay off that coffee."
You both laughed, making some people turn their attention to you out of curiosity. A quick glance around, and you quiet down a bit.
"If you want to finish, I'll try my best to stand still."
"I would appreciate that."
You both smiled at each other. Time went by fast, and by the time you finished, the office was empty. None of you felt the time passing by as you got to know each other better. Leon loved his portraits and "stole" your notebook.
He loved everything you did. Every gesture, every tic, everything was just perfect for him.
What he cherished most was your talent when it came to art. Everything you touched turned into a masterpiece, something so beautiful that it can’t be described by a simple man. So, when you wanted to paint him, he looked at you in shock.
"Me?"
"Yes, you."
"Why?" he chuckled.
"Because I want to. And because I want an excuse to stare at your picture for hours while you are away on missions."
He pulled you closer and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead.
"Alright. Make sure to highlight my good side."
"As if you have a bad one."
Despite loving how affectionate and supportive you were with him, he never understood why. He viewed himself as a rough, cranky man who got on everyone's nerve. For short, an asshole. But to you, he wasn't like that. Despite the hardships in his life, he still maintained a soft gaze.
Naturally, he wondered why you wanted him to be part of your beautiful portfolio. And more importantly, did he deserve to be part of it?
For the next couple of days, he waited for you to finish. He would peek in your room to see the progress, but you didn't let him. You wanted to surprise him.
When he came back from his mission, arriving in your comfy apartment, you shoved your art in front of his face.
"Do you like it?" you asked excitedly.
He reluctantly took the canvas and stared at it for a few seconds. It's not that he didn't like it. It's the fact that he didn't recognize himself. His scars weren’t so prominent, his eyes weren't so full of sadness and anger, and his lips were curved in a soft smile. His features were softer, friendlier, even.
“This… I know it’s me, but it feels like I’m looking at a stranger.”
"Why do you say that?”
“It feels like you retouched my face.”
“Hmm, no, this is how you look in real life. You're not as tough-looking as you think."
He loves it regardless, and he loves you even more.
His muse in this life was you. Every time he looked at you, every time he saw your pretty face, his mood would lighten up in a heartbeat. A catastrophe at the moment would turn into something insignificant, something he could overcome with ease.
What he loved most about you was your talent. He was amazed at the beautiful things you could create with your hands, unlike him. He found refuge in your art, staring at your finished and unfinished projects for hours.
"Mi dulzura, what masterpieces are you creating?"
"Thank you, mi rey. Wanna be part of them?"
He smiled. He approached you with light footsteps, rubbing your shoulders gently when he reached your back.
"I'd be honoured."
He was thrilled. Being fascinated by your talent, he wanted to ask you long ago, but he didn't want to overcrowd you as you had many projects and clients. He didn't want to put more pressure. He simply told you that he doesn't want anything fancy.
He waited every day for you to finish, barely containing himself from asking dozens of questions. You had to kick him out multiple times from your room because you wanted to surprise him.
"Luis," you called out, "it's done!"
He came in a hurry, and as expected, he loved the result. He wouldn't stop praising you for creating another masterpiece.
"This is...I have no words. It's simply stunning."
"Well, you are stunning," you said, wrapping your arms around his neck.
"I guess I really am your Prince Charming."
You chuckled and were ready to say something, but he caught your lips in a quick, gentle kiss.
From that moment on, he becomes your one and only muse. You'd paint him in various poses and various clothes, sometimes with you as well. He would sit near you, watching you do your magic without saying a word. He loves and respects what you do a lot.
#resident evil#albert wesker#leon kennedy#luis sera#resident evil 4 remake#leon kennedy x reader#albert wesker x reader#luis serra x reader#jack krauser#jack krauser x reader#fluff#headcanons
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#TF2#saw this post on break at work and i knew i had to doodle it the second i got home#team fortress 2#scout#tf2 scout#engineer#tf2 engineer#doodles#sorry for no art im excruciatingly busy
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How To Woo A Hot Principal
Step 11: Realizations
Summary: Working at the Weathervane was exactly what you needed. The routine, the people, your co-workers. It certainly helped that a certain tall, blonde, fucking gorgeous woman happened to frequent the cafe. Now some may call hopelessly flirting with your customers inappropriate behavior.
But truly, when it came to Larissa Weems, who could blame you?
Y'all wanted the Larissa pain and I bring you Larissa pain. Enjoy. Also again, pls send all the love to the now co-author of this series @misssmephisto 🦐✨
Tags: @variant-2402 @the-bagel24 @eveymay @kimiinou @muffintopxs @h-doodles @bbykens @lilfartbox1 @bigolgay @winterfireblond @gela123
(pls let me know if you want to be tagged/ I missed you!)
Chapter 10
Cross Posted on AO3 here
HWTAHP Masterlist
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Larissa had fucked up.
She knew she had the moment she’d ended her bullshit-filled tirade. Knew when you had run out of her office sobbing.
And she sure as shit knew right now.
She had been sitting at her desk, re-reading the same email for what had felt like the hundredth time when she’d gotten a call from Marylin. She was confused, it was the middle of the night. She answered the call, a deep sense of dread chilling her to the bone as she did so.
“Larissa? I-I saw your girlfriend running into the woods and-and I was worried so I followed her but- she’s been attacked, Larissa. I don’t-I don’t know if she’ll make it I-“ Marylin rushes.
Larissa can’t breathe, she’s no longer listening to Marylin. Her hands are shaking and she feels like she might throw up. She brings one hand to cover her mouth, the other gripping her phone as if it were her lifeline. As panic gripped her, the words blood, ambulance and sheriff breached her mind from the device in her hand.
She’s the reason you were out there. She’s the reason you got attacked.
She was wrong. She was so so wrong. She was wrong and now you might die and she was so wrong.
She called you a monster.
Before she can even register what she is doing she has grabbed her keys and ran out of her office.
“Marylin” Larissa started, cutting off the tear-fuelled rambling of her college. “I need you to gather the staff and check on all the students and make sure everyone is accounted for. The school is on lockdown as of now, keep everyone indoors and safe. I’m going to the hospital, call me if anything else happens.” She instructs.
Before Marylin can reply, Larissa has hung up and is getting into her car. She drives frantically, not particularly caring what traffic laws she’s breaking. All she cares about is getting to you. You have to be okay. You just have to.
When she finally makes it to the hospital, she all but barges through the front doors. Rushing up to the front desk, the headmistress frantically asks about your whereabouts. She’s told you’re in surgery, you’d lost an almost catastrophic amount of blood but they were doing everything in their power. She’s directed to a waiting room and then left alone.
Larissa had no idea how long she had sat there, her eyes burning holes into the floor beneath her as the words, those horrible cruel words she spoke to you ran through her head. She keeps seeing your face, heartbroken with tears running down your cheeks. She keeps thinking of how this is all her fault, how you could’ve been safe if she had just listened to you. If she had just not been a royal bitch. If she had just had dinner with you.
She didn’t deserve you. After all you’d done for her, after all you’d gone through with her. She wouldn’t be surprised if you never wanted to see her again.
But you didn’t deserve to be alone, so she would wait here until she knew you were okay. It was the least she could do.
——————
The clock ticked on, seconds becoming minutes, minutes becoming hours. There had been no news, and she couldn’t decide if that was good or bad. Her legs were stiff, her eyes were stinging. She probably looked dreadful but she couldn’t find it in herself to care. The once powerful persona of the Nevermore headmistress was broken, stuck floating in time.
She was glad to not have heard from Marylin. Hopeful that that meant everything was well at the school. She honestly wouldn’t have been much use if something was wrong anyway.
She was startled by a set of doors being flung open, her body fuelled with adrenaline, legs quivering with how fast she was forced upwards. She was even more shocked when three of her students came bursting through said doors. Enid, Wednesday and Yoko ran up to her and before she can scold them for being off school grounds during a lockdown, Yoko speaks.
“Is she still in surgery?”
Larissa sighs and nods, deciding she doesn’t have the energy to be the stern principal she should be. Sliding back into the seat beneath her, Larissa’s mind begins to fall back into the routine she had been stuck in for the past however long. However, Wednesday spoke six words that shattered the downward spiral the headmistress had created.
“Do they know she’s an outcast?”
“What are you talking about?” Larissa responded, her head turning towards the girl, curiosity leading her fast reply.
“She’s a vampire. We can explain how we know later but right now we have to tell them she’s a vamp and will be needing blood, well- more blood.” Enid explains.
“I-that can’t…how certain are you of this? We can’t just- she could-“ Larissa stutters.
“Just trust us on this, please. I don’t…we don’t want her to die.” Yoko pleads.
Shocked by Yoko’s outright display of emotion, Larissa nods. She gets up from the chair, her joints popping in protest. She strides over to the nurses' station, explaining your situation to them. She has to argue back and forth with them for quite a while before they listen to her. The terms legal guardian, family and medical records are thrown around in protest before the desperation on Weems’ face convinces the receptionist to ring into the surgery room. Before she can turn back towards her students, a nurse in conversation with the other receptionist turns in disgust at the piece of information Larissa had shared. Continuing in the direction she was heading, Larissa barely resists the urge to cuss her out.
Returning to the seating area, she sighs. A motion filled with exhaustion, regret and deep sadness.
“Can I get you three something to drink? I have a suspicion this is going to be a long night.”
——————
The four had settled back in the waiting room, this time on the two couches that were available. Larissa and Enid had gotten a hot chocolate while Wednesday and Yoko had settled on coffee (Larissa did not have it in her to try and get them to have something without caffeine in it.) None of the girls commented on Larissa’s appearance, which she was truly grateful for.
Breaking the tense silence they had found themselves in, the headmistress spoke, “Alright, so how did you three figure this out?”
“Well, it actually started when Wednesday ran overheard you two talking about (Y/N)’s nightmares.” Enid starts.
“I’m sorry what?” Larissa interrupts, turning to shoot Wednesday an accusatory stare. She expected nothing less of the girl, knowing her reputation but a sense of upset and surprise still struck her.
“I was investigating a potential lead in the attacks and happened to walk by your office while you two were talking.” She hums, taking a sip from her decidedly not completely shit coffee.
“Anyway, from there Wednesday was uh curious about what was going on with her…” Enid continues.
“I suspected she may be the person behind the attacks.” Wednesday deadpans.
Larissa freezes at that, swallowing against the sudden lump in her throat. She feels a strong stabbing pain in her chest. In an effort to distract herself, she looked down at her takeaway cup and hums.
“Uhm so yeah Wednesday did some digging. She was trying to figure out what made her come to Jericho in the first place, given the attacks started right around the time she arrived. But then Yoko came to pick me up for a trip to Jericho to go shopping and saw Wednesday’s murder wall and found it way more interesting than I did, it gives me the creeps.”
“A murder wall?” Larissa questioned, incredulous.
“So then Yoko told us about the way your barista girlfriend had a vampire smell. Furthermore, along with some information she learnt from Outreach Day and her behaviour over the past couple of days, I deemed it appropriate to enter her home and do some more digging-“ Wednesday explained.
“Wednesday Addams-“ Larissa hissed.
“And I found these tablets she was taking. I’d never seen or heard of them before, so I did some further investigation and it would seem it's a rather poor blood substitute, which fit Yoko’s vampire theory.” Wednesday continues, ignoring the blonde’s obvious anger.
“But she has no fangs?” Larissa murmurs.
“In more conservative places there was a practice where they would file down young vampire's fangs to make them more ‘normal.’” Yoko explains with a scowl. “It's archaic and evil.”
“Why…who would do this..?” Larissa mumbled.
“Well, that’s where Wednesday’s digging into why she moved here comes in. Turns out she used to live in this super small town literally in the middle of nowhere. Everything we found about it was not like outright ‘outcasts are evil and dangerous’ but was prejudiced enough to give me the super ick.” Enid offered.
“I see…” Larissa breathed out.
Larissa didn’t know how to feel. Actually, she did. She felt a deep, deep sense of self-loathing and shame. And above all else, she felt guilt. Guilt that made her stomach churn and her chest ache. Gods she truly didn’t know how she would live with herself after tonight.
The four of them sat in silence for a while, the three girls noticing their headmistress’s unusually upset demeanour and deciding it best to leave the queries, for now. Hours went by with no news, Larissa growing more and more weary as time went on. She had tried to convince the three girls to go back to Nevermore but had received a rather strong chorus of no’s in return. Eventually, a doctor came through the doors and called out your name. Larissa immediately stood from her seat and rushed over to her, her heart firmly lodged in her throat.
“I-Is she alright? Did she make it out of the surgery okay?” Larissa asked.
“She’s just come out of surgery, we’ve taken her to the ICU. The surgery went well, surprisingly given her condition, it was touch and go for a while, but after we started administering more blood things went much smoother. I can take you to her room if you’d like?” She states.
“I-Yes, thank you.” Larissa breathes, her heart calming just a bit.
She gathers the three teens before following the doctor to your room. The doctor warned the group that you were still asleep and still weren’t in the greatest shape, so they needed to prepare themselves. Larissa had to take a moment outside your room to steel herself. She needed to keep herself together.
When she entered your room and saw you laying there, unconscious and battered her resolve to keep herself together crumbled instantly. You looked so small and fragile in the hospital bed. Your face was so pale and you were so still. She let out a choked sob, bringing a shaking hand up to cover her mouth, feeling tears gather in her eyes. She hurries over to your side while scanning you over for injuries. You have several small cuts littering your face and arms. A deeper more noticeable cut on your head, and the skin around it is bruised terribly. She’s certain the brunt of your injuries are hidden beneath the blanket covering you from the chest down and her stomach drops just thinking about it. She drops into the chair seated next to your bed.
“When uhm-“ Larissa tries, her voice cracking, “When will she wake up?”
“Unfortunately, due to the extreme nature of her injuries we can’t be certain when she will wake up.” The doctor explains.
“Do you know that she’ll wake up?” Wednesday queries.
Enid scolds her, slapping her on the arm while Larissa squeezes her eyes shut. She can’t fathom a world, a life without you. You and your brilliant smile and silly jokes that never failed to make her laugh. And yet she threw that all away anyway. Hurt you immeasurably and for what? Because she was stupid enough to doubt your character, to make out as if you were some manipulative awful creature? She was awful, irredeemable.
“Principal Weems?” Enid prompts gently.
“Hm?” she responds, not taking her eyes off you.
“We’re going to head back to the school now. Do you need anything before we go?” She asks.
She shakes her head, thanking the three of them before they leave. And then it’s just you and her. She moves the chair closer to you and settles into it, kicking off her heels. She tentatively grabs one of your hands, squeezing it gently.
“I-I know that I-“ She whispers, her voice shaking. “That I- That the things I did- the things I said were- they were-“
She breaks into sobs then, squeezing your hand as she doubles over. She cries harder than she ever has in her life. She cries for what feels like eternity and she’s honestly not sure how long it truly was. Eventually, her sobs dissolve into hiccups and a constant stream of tears falling down her cheeks. She wipes at her eyes with her free hand, careless of the way her mascara smudges.
She knows this is the least of what she deserves. She deserves to be crushed by her guilt. She deserves to feel as though all the air has been sucked from the room, as though the weight of her callous words and cruel thinking will drown her. She deserves all the pain and suffering the world has to offer.
But she will stay by your side, ensure you’re taken care of and not alone. It’s the least she could do.
——————
Larissa essentially hadn’t left your side since that night. She had gotten Marylin to bring her laptop the first time she visited so that she could attempt to get work done while watching over you. She had admittedly gotten much less done than usual but was still managing to get everything sorted. After two days of Larissa not moving from your side she had a very entertaining conversation with Enid and Wednesday.
“Uh, Principal Weems, don’t take this the wrong way but uhm…do you think you should maybe uhm…well…” Enid tried.
“You look dreadful. You should go back to Nevermore and clean yourself up.” Wednesday interjected.
Larissa had stared at the two of them, wide-eyed, before huffing a sigh and agreeing to head back to Nevermore later that day to make herself more presentable. The two had offered to stay with you while she sorted herself out. She thanked them, taking the hint and quickly returning to Nevermore and taking a much-needed shower and changing her clothes. She made sure to pack a few days worth of clothes and toiletries. The whole time she was away she worried you’d wake up while she was gone. She worried you’d think she didn’t care. She didn’t expect you to want her there when you woke up, she would leave as soon as you told her to. She deserved your anger and hate. But she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if you woke up alone.
So she packed all her necessary belongings and headed back to the hospital, to you. When she arrived back at your room Wednesday and Enid were deep in a seemingly very serious conversation. She used the opportunity to get herself a coffee from the hospital cafeteria. The coffee wasn’t terrible, but it was nothing compared to the drinks you brought her every morning. You would always bring her the most delicious coffee in the morning with the sweetest messages written on them.
And she had the gall to say all your kindness, all your actions were nothing but an elaborate ruse? She was truly the most awful person alive.
She made her way back to your room, her chest heavy with guilt. When she arrived for the second time Wednesday was nowhere to be found and Enid looked like she was on the verge of tears. Larissa stood awkwardly in the doorway, clearing her throat to alert the young werewolf to her presence. Enid startles slightly, wiping at her eyes with the brightly coloured sleeve of her sweater.
“Oh Principal Weems! I uhm- She still hasn’t woken up yet. And Wednesday was here she just- well we…” she trails off, her lower lip quivering.
“Miss Sinclaire,” Larissa starts, pausing before coming to stand next to her. “Enid, I don’t know the intricacies of your relationship with Wednesday, but if you ever want to talk about it…”
“I just…” She sniffles, fresh tears coming to her eyes, “I really thought I-I was making progress with Wednesday and-and our friendship and her accepting that we’re you know actually friends. But then every time we have a moment or something she just shuts down and runs away. I just- I don’t know what to do.”
“Well,” Larissa starts, offering Enid a tissue which she gratefully accepts, “I’m not always the best with these sorts of things, goodness I all but ruined the one good relationship in my life… never mind that. With Wednesday, I think- she’s naturally closed-off but she truly does care about you. She may not express her affection in the same manner you do but I know for certain that she values you and your friendship. She just needs some time to figure out her feelings and figure out how she’s most comfortable expressing those feelings. So just, keep doing what you’re doing, but understand and give her time.”
Enid stares up at her with wide, tear-filled eyes before launching herself forward into Larissa’s arms. Larissa startles, glad for her tall frame for once. She tentatively wraps the poor girl in a hug. She holds her as she cries into her coat.
“You really are an amazing person, Enid, never doubt that.” She murmurs.
The two embrace for a while before Enid stops sniffling and takes a step back, she beams up at her principal.
“Thank you, Principal Weems, you’re the best…” She smiles, which then turns into a concerned frown, “What was that about ruining a relationship?”
Larissa’s face falls at that, all of the colour draining from it. She clears her throat and does her best to fight the tears gathering in her eyes. Turning to face your sleeping form, she lifts a hand up to play with her necklace, swallowing thickly. She opens her mouth to speak, to explain herself but can’t find the words.
“I’ve not been a very good person as of late…” Larissa whispers, “I hurt her, possibly beyond repair. And now she’s-“
She stops herself, shaking her head and wiping her eyes. It’s highly inappropriate for her to even be talking about this with a student. She really ought to-
“Well, I’m sure whatever it is that happened,” Enid says, “If you just talk it out with her and apologize then maybe it’ll all work out.”
Enid's hope is adorable, but Larissa knows it won’t be that easy. The things she said to you were unforgivable. She had very little hope of salvaging things between the two of you. She only wanted to make sure you were okay and you didn’t blame yourself for anything that happened, as you tended to do.
Enid leaves her alone to her thoughts and she settles back in the chair. She reaches over and grabs your hand again. She can’t stand the silence of the room, only permeated by the constant beeping of the machines. So instead, she fills the silence with her apologies. She cries and apologises over and over. And when she’s all out of apologies she tells you everything she wished she had told you before that night, everything she thought and felt.
“I love you…” She whispers shakily, “I’ve loved you for so long now. I- I will never stop loving you, regardless of what happens when you wake up.”
She falls asleep that night, holding your hand while awkwardly sprawled in the chair, hoping you wake up.
——————
Marylin visits quite frequently, much to Larissa’s confusion. She brings new flowers each time (which consequentially has left your hospital room looking like a florist despite the nurses clearing the room each night.) She watches over you to allow Larissa some time to stretch her legs and occasionally go home to shower. As she travels back and forth between the hospital and Nevermore, she comes to the conclusion that the reason for Marylin’s visits are because she was in essence the one who found you. She also constantly reminds herself that she has no right to feel jealous of whatever friendship you and Marylin may share.
Along with Marylin some of her students come and visit you. Yoko comes around the most, often not staying very long but checking on you nonetheless, occasionally leaving small trinkets with your still form. Despite not knowing the true depth of your friendship with her student, Larissa feels comfortable giving you two space when Yoko visits.
Enid and Wednesday were the next most frequent visitors. Often they came together, a good sign Larissa hoped, but sometimes one of them would come on their own. Often Enid would chat with Larissa, ever since they had their heart-to-heart a few days ago she found the young werewolf had deemed her someone she could gossip or rant to. Larissa didn’t mind, often she found she actually really enjoyed Enid's company.
Wednesday was the complete opposite. She would always come in, check your vitals and flip through your chart that sat at the bottom of your bed (Larissa had given up on scolding her for it after three days.) Then the dark-haired girl would nod at Larissa before slipping from the room, off to cause mayhem no doubt.
James had visited every day, often chatting to Larissa while he did. Larissa didn’t know how to tell him he should hate her, should be cursing her and being as cruel to her as she was to you, if not worse. So instead she took to making important calls just after he arrived. She figured he appreciated the time alone with you anyway.
On one rather strange occasion, Tyler Galpin had sheepishly knocked on the door of your room. He had glanced from Larissa to you and then stared at you with a hollow, almost guilty look. He had dropped off some flowers (adding to the ever-growing collection you now had) and then left. The entire visit had felt strange to Larissa but she didn’t have the energy to put into thinking about it further.
It had been over a week since the accident, twelve days to be exact. Twelve days of restless sleep, nightmares and uncomfortable sitting. Her whole body ached from being sat in the less-than-comfortable chair all day and night. Often she’d have to redo her makeup at least once a day (made so much easier with her shapeshifting abilities) on account of all the crying she was doing, despite feeling she had cried enough to fill the Pacific.
She worried you would never wake up. That one night she would fall asleep in that awful chair and wake up to the long unending beep of the heart rate monitor. And then they would take you away, and there would be a funeral and she would be completely and utterly lost without you. She worried you would wake up and quietly ask her to leave and never come back. She worried you would wake up and rightfully hate her and everything she stood for. She just worried.
Larissa never stopped speaking to you. On some days it was simply her telling you about the work she’d been doing or the latest update from Enid. Others it was her begging for your forgiveness. But she always made sure to tell you she loved you at the end of each day, regardless of whether you could hear her or not.
——————
It was the evening of the fifteenth day since the attack. Larissa was holding your hand with one of hers while she read a book she had been meaning to finish for months. She had taken to reading aloud, she found it helped keep her mind occupied and off of the crushing guilt she felt. She was halfway through the chapter when she felt your hand twitch.
She dropped the book, scrambling to bring her other hand over yours, her eyes rapidly searching her face for any sign that you may be waking up. Her heart was in her throat and if she hadn’t been holding your hand so tightly she would’ve noticed just how badly they were shaking. Her heart stops when your brows furrow, your nose scrunching. The beeping of the heart monitor beside you, began to speed up slightly.
“Darling?” she breathes out.
And then your eyes flutter open and her breathing stops.
You’re okay, you’re waking up. Everything is going to be okay-
Larissa’s back hit the floor, the chair she had been stuck to toppled beside her but she didn’t hear it fall. Everything was silent, the world had stilled. Her eyes were pinned to the ceiling staring at the fluorescent lights above as she began to feel a deep, burning pain in her neck. Slowly turning her head, she discovered the source. It was you.
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An ALNST Theory/Hypothesis/Over-analysis/Interpretation of events
AKA: Me slowly descending into madness over an animated web series-
(Btw this is mostly just for fun, don't take it too seriously lol)
(TW: Death, Blood)
Long post warning:
I assume we've all seen the newest posts that Vivinos has put out on their YT community tab (or wherever you get your ALNST updates), and the one that everyone is obviously talking about is the post titled <CURE>
And.. yeah, of course, just goes to show that Round 6 is just around the corner (I am screaming internally) and the attention is going to be focused on Ivan and Till, and how their story will progress (or end, depending on if someone's gonna die, which seems likely, unfortunately).
But the post that really caught my attention.. was this fucking post:
When I first saw it, in my mind I thought ''Haha, how cute and goofy! This is exactly how I saw their dynamic!'' and went on with my day.
But after thinking about it for a while, my brain decided to think up this wonderfully awful thought:
''What if Hyuna (unintentionally) had a hand in what happened to Hyun-woo?''
Now, at first, this sounds fucking crazy. The general consensus (from what I've seen) is that Luka killed Hyun-woo. But I do see some parallels between this post and the incident in Round 5 which might help explain what actually happened, but first:
Why I don't think Luka would have been able to kill Hyun-woo:
Luka is DEFINETELY not known for his muscles or strength, I mean look at him:
He's like a sickly Victorian child, not to mention his asthma, chronic migraines and heart disease. I don't believe Hyun-woo has any health problems (not that I know of anyways), so I feel Luka would have a hard time trying to push Hyun-woo over so he'd fall onto a rock. To put it simply, Hyun-woo could most likely beat Luka in a fight, unless someone interfered in some way...👀
Luka's ''fighting'' tactic:
With the parallels between The Trio doodle and Round 5, I've noticed there's a pattern with how Luka gets rids of his ''opponents'', be it on stage or outside of it (*cough* Hyun-woo *cough cough*).
He initiates the attack, it being mentally or physically depending on his opponent. He's subtle about it however, the only one being aware of his antagonism being the one he's antagonising, preserving his perfect, can-do-no-wrong persona.
2. Obviously, the opponent retaliates. But, of course, Luka expects this, it's what he wants, after all. He knows he'll be seen as the victim by onlookers. How could anyone hurt such a precious, weak, defenseless little guy??🥺🥺He doesn't even bother to fight back at all (may be too weak to).
3. A stronger force, seeing Luka in ''distress'', steps in and takes care of the attacker (the opponent), avenging Luka, who they see as the victim. He isn't the type to do it himself, letting others do his dirty work.
Now, let's apply this to the flashback in the All-In MV..
What may have happened to Hyun-woo:
Luka may have said something to Hyun-woo that deeply distressed/angered him, or perhaps Hyun-woo knew about what Luka did to Hyuna.
2. Angry, Hyun-woo attacks Luka.
(I'd also like to note that in this frame, Luka looks more like he's just had someone pulled off him, rather than he's just attacked and pushed someone over onto a rock.)
3. Hyuna finds Hyun-woo attacking Luka and, naturally seeing Luka as the victim, tries to break them apart (which would have been hard if Hyun-woo was super pissed). There's a struggle, and.. well...
Hyuna accidentally kills Hyun-woo, which doesn't bother Luka. Just means his opponent has been eliminated. As far as he's concerned, Luka wins.
Final Thoughts:
Does this theory leave a lot of questions? 100%. For example, if this theory was true, why would Hyuna be so angry at Luka? Does she later find out about his manipulative nature? How? On the stage perhaps? I find this unlikely, however, since I don't believe Hyuna ever went on stage and escaped beforehand, due to a post Vivinos made a while back:
Can this theory be easily debunked? Oh, ABSOLUTELY (I hope it is debunked in canon, to be honest lol). But it does give ideas for some angsty fanfics, I believe hehehe-
For real though, Alien Stage is all up to interpretation. Some questions may never be answered. It leaves room for different ideas, which is one thing I love about the series. <3
Thank you for reading my batshit little ramble/theory!! Hope ya'll have an awesome day/night!
#now back to my art#i don't usually do these types of posts/essays/whatever but twas fun#alien stage#alnst#alnst hyuna#alien stage hyuna#hyuna alnst#hyuna alien stage#luka alnst#alnst luka#alien stage luka#luka alien stage#alien stage hyun-woo#hyun-woo alnst#alnst hyun-woo#hyun-woo alien stage#toon talks
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~ "Doodle" - changbin x chichi ~
embedding in time: march 2023, right after "Break The Rules"
word count: 1.5k
summary: changbin and chichi finally talk things through
warnings: hurt/comfort, fluff
disclaimer: Chichi is an O/C invented by @chiskz who gave me explicit permission to create and post this.
a/n: This is the final part of a 3-Part-Series, so I recommend reading part 1 and 2 first
Part One
Part Two
Do not repost or translate my work.
© All Rights Reserved
Reblog or comment if you liked it. Let me know what you enjoyed.
"I'm sorry, but I can't do this right now.", her voice was quiet.
She was about to leave again, but this time he was fast enough to grab her wrist. He didn't apply any pressure, but the young woman had no fight left and let him hold her in place.
Seungmin appeared in the doorway. "Sorry guys, but you need this.", he closed the door to the practice room. The two best friends knew they were locked in when they heard a key turning in the lock. How the hell did Seungmin even get a key for the room?
"Changbin, please let me go.", Chichi turned towards the young rapper who still holding her wrist in his hand. But instead of following through with her request, he shook his head, "Please, Ichi, I just need to talk this through with you. Just hear me out. I'm begging you!" He gave her arm a small squeeze and let her go right after in hopes of having convincer her to listen to him, letting his hands slide into his pockets, "Besides, I don't think they'll let us out anytime soon, unless we talk."
The older girl sighed, before sitting on the floor in front of him. She didn't want to move over to the couch in the corner of the practice room - too afraid that it would be comfortable and she'd lean onto him like she always used to do. It was something she couldn't do anymore.
It didn't take Changbin long to sit down aswell, facing her. He thought she would not notice the way his hands were shaking. It was confusing to the fake maknae - Why was he nervous, when she was the one with a broken heart? She took a deep breath and lifted her head, finally looking into the boys eyes. "You want to talk, Changbin? So talk."
His heart ached for her calling him by his name. She always called him Binnie. Everytime without fail. But she was in too much pain to do that. And he couldn't help but hear the venom in her voice. He knew she didn't mean it - it was a mere attempt to push him away in order to reduce the pain for herself. But that didn't make it hurt any less for him. With a slightly quivering lower lip he finally started speaking.
"I want to apologize to you, bunny. I have been wanting to do that for a while now, but whenever I tried to talk to you, you did everything in your power to avoid me. You didn't even give me a chance to explain myself!", he stopped himself before the passion in his voice would become too strong and he'd get loud. He knew he shouldn't blame her. She was only trying to protect herself.
Chichi wanted to leave. She wanted to run away from this again. But she knew she couldn't. They were locked in a room by their friends and she was sure that they would not allow them to leave until they finally solved the issue that had been clouding both of their minds throughout the last days. So she bit her lower lip, sucked in her cheeks harshly and kept every mean word in her mind from spilling out. If she yelled at him again she not only would start another fight, but also wasn't sure if she would forgive herself for hurting him again. Her heart may have been broken because she lost her love, but he lost her best friend.
Changbin looked at her expectantly - wanting to get a reaction out of her. Any reaction, really. But when he saw the the pinkish color slowly drawing from how much force she was using to bite down on her lip, he knew what he needed to do.
Shuffling over to her was kind of awkward from his cross-legged position, but he still made his way over to her and got closer. He lifted his arms, streching them away from his body as a way to offer her a hug. It was a way to make sure she was okay with this - with his embrace. He would never need to ask her permission for a hug, but he wasn't so sure right now. And it didn't take long for the tears to spill out of the corners of her eyes. Her heart was racing, unable to control her emotions anymore. Chichi basically jumped into Changbins arms and after barely a second he went and closed his arms around her, successfully pressing her body into his chest. The hug was tight, but he knew she needed it.
Ichi let her tears fall, her body still shaking. She couldn't voice her fears to him. She was so sure she lost him. Yet all she really wanted was his embrace.
The younger man removed one arm from her back and put it to the back of her head. He brushed through the strands of her hair carefully, like he had done so many times before.
It was difficult for him to find the right words - he opened his mouth to speak so many times, only to close it again. But when he heard her sobs he decided to just let his words spill out. He was going to let his heart speak.
"Park Ichi, can you not tell how much you mean to me? When I wake up the first thing I think about is how much I hope we can go to the gym together again. When I fall asleep you are the last thing on my mind. I constantly think about your beautiful bright smile, especially when I am the one that makes you show it. I never stop thinking about how I can be closer to you than the day before. When you were with Seungmin, even if it was only for show, I could feel my heart break. I could feel it shatter. When I see you in a shirt you stole from me I could start crying from how adorable you look in it. And when you give it back I hope that it smells like you."
The girl couldn't see his tears, but she felt the wetness of them on her shoulder - seeping through the material of her shirt. He was shivering but continued, "I would give up everything in life to be with you. To get another minute with you. I wrote a whole damn song for you! Even STAY figured out that Doodle was about you, but you were so goddamn oblivious. And that day, when you told me how you felt about me-", he stopped in the middle of his sentence when he felt Ichi loosen their mutual embrace. She pulled back to look into his eyes. Her arms had found his back a while ago.
The hand that Changbin had rested on her head moved to Chichis cheek, softly holding his palm there. He was sunbconsciously drawing small patterns on her chin and she leaned into his touch - her eyes closing for a moment to feel his touch more vividly.
When the rapper continued talking she looked at him again. "The reason why I didn't react was because it didn't feel real. I felt like a teenager who's crush just confessed to him. Which is kind of exactly what happened, I guess.", he sighed, annoyed that he still couldn't find the right words to tell her how he felt.
Both of them stopped crying slowly, only staring into eachothers eyes. They were stuck in this moment. And all they found was pure adoration and love. For the first time in days both of them felt that comfortable piece that always surrounded them when they were together. Not a single sign of hesitancy was in either of their faces when they both leaned in simultaniously.
It felt like a firework exploded the second their lips touched. Ichi noticed that his lips were softer than she imagined, when she thought about kissing him during some intimate moments they shared. And now - for the first time - those thoughts became reality. He let out a tiny, almost inaudible, sigh into the kiss when Chichis arms moved from his back to his neck. He pulled her face even closer into his, if that was even possible.
Neither one of them wanted to release the other. Not one of them wanted this moment to end. But the need for oxygen in their lungs unfortunately won over and they pulled apart breathlessly.
When their eyes met for the nth time this day, both of them started smiling. Changbin tried to keep his smile subtle, but he couldn't stop from grinning widely. Ichi blushed visibly, but so did he.
The young man moved the thumb from her chin to her lip, touching it carefully, as if he couldn't believe what just happened and needed to relive the moment.
"Seo Changbin, I love you. So, so, so much. So much, that it hurts."
"Aishiteru, usagi."
Ichi broke out in loud laughter, "Let's work on your japanese pronounciation, boyfriend!" "Boyfriend? I like the sound of that, bunny!"
A loud knock on the door stopped the boy from puting, "Ayo, are you done being all gross now? We're all going out to eat. Wanna join us?" "Only if you pay, Seungmin!", Chichi jumped up, slid her hand into Changbins and pulled him up and towards the door. The singer let out a disapproving huff. "Maybe I'll just leave you locked in, then." "YAH, LET US OUT SEUNGMIN-AH!"
"Aishiteru, usagi." - "I love you, bunny.
Taglist: @longingpurity @hyujinnie1 @sensitiveandhungry @yrhome @hee0soo @minnnie-binnie @zoe8stay @l3visbby @bbyquokka @imafivestarkpopstan @mxnsxngie @serenitysoda200 @lino-jagiyaa @notastraykid @alixnsuperstxr @chanlovesme
Feel free to let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist!
#stray kids#skz#drabble#skz drabbles#skz oneshots#skz imagines#stray kids oc#skz oc#oc#kpop addition#stray kids 9th member#kpop added member#alysdrabbles#chiskz#skz angst#skz hurt/comfort#angst#hurt/comfort#kpop angst
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Hiiii! I saw that tank dempsey and video games post and it made me think... How would the bois (primis and Ultimis) do with good ol' Jackbox?
(spoiler alert : it'd be a hot mess. Especially with Ultimis)
HELLO MY FRIEND! You’re correct, Ultimis can barely hold together a game of Mario Kart without someone throwing a shit fit (even Takeo). This all takes place in a modern AU btw. Each group gets 3 games so this doesn't get overwhelmingly large
I'm also using an emoji guide bc it's going to be very detailed
Primis: Tank( 🪖), Richtofen (🧪), Takeo(🌸), Nikolai (🐻)
Ultimis: Tank (🧨), Richtofen (🧟), Takeo(🗡️), Nikolai (🍷)
JACKBOX NIGHT WITH THE AETHER CREW
Primis:
Behold, the group that actually has fun with it!
Everyone’s favorite game has to be T-KO. Nikolai kept coming up with hysterical shirts with risqué jokes. The shirt seen below was his magnum opus:
Richtofen insisted his was a really funny pun, but nobody laughed again no matter how much he milked the joke :( But it's DummKoffee...
During Job Job, Everyone kept losing their shit. For examples:
"You want to make a good impression for the district manager. How do you stand out?"
🧪: I like to cry for help to the district manager
🪖: respond Based off of gooey cheese cheese cheese cheese snacks ("Not gonna lie, this stuff is why I joined the Marine Corp")
"You had your picture taken for your work badge and it's awful! What do you do?"
🐻: pillow Hangover
🌸: I hose that Karen
Richtofen nearly choked on his beer hearing Dempsey's answer
🧪Goodness, Dempsey! Are you starving?
🪖I mean, sure. I could go for somethin' cheesy right now (And so they heated some Totino's and pizza bagels from the freezer, in which Takeo kept quietly stealing one off of everyone's plate until Nikolai caught him in the act. Did I mention they were slightly tipsy?)
Overall, they all had lighthearted fun with it. And it slowly becomes a game of choice when they hand out besides poker and online gaming once in a while.
Ultimis:
Ok so already everyone is taking at least 15-30 minutes to connect tO THE FUCKING TV
🍷Wait wait don't start guys! I haven't signed in yet!
🧨COME ON NIKOLAI! GIMMIE YOUR PHONE! (The same man who struggled several minutes earlier to jump on)
🗡️Hmmm, what should we play first?
🧟OOOH! Let's play Murder Trivia! It sounds delicious~
🧨Ugh, give me a break...
So murder trivia was a rough start. Not only did everyone have a tough time with the puzzles. but only Takeo and Richtofen were getting most of the questions right. This left Nikolai and Tank dying every round and failing their redemption challenges.
Nikolai would angrily pout and mumble "Fuck this game" while Tank roared with so much visceral rage in his throat. This is worse than him fighting with someone in the MW2 Voice chat
Richtofen thought it was funny until Tank was about to get violent and punch a hole in the TV. Takeo and Nikolai had to restrain him while Richtofen scolded him. No more Murder Trivia...
🧟Maybe Monster Seeking Mon-🧨NO. I get to pick this time!
Tank chose Survive the Internet! And… it went as well as you’d expect.
Surprisingly, it was Takeo that added the hashtag for Richtofen's tweet! 🗡️Ha ha ha! Are you surprised by my ambush, Doctor? 🧨Alright, Tak! It's funny 'cause it's true🧟I hate you, Dempsey
A taste of karma on Richtofen's part for the #whycollegematters comment
Honorable mention to Dempsey's gut-busting commentary here. Everyone laughed so hard that even Takeo had beer come out his nose!
The final game was Civic Doodle. Literally nobody knew how to draw and Richtofen kept slamming down everyone’s “crappy job” on their artwork.
🧟AAAACH! WHAT AM I LOOKING AT?! DIDE YOU SMUDGE IT ALL WITH YOUR THUMB?! 🍷HEY FUCK YOU I CAN’T TOUCH SCREEN! IS TOO TINY FOR NIKOLAI! Besides, I can see two of what I’m drawing which makes it harder for me :(
It sadly ends with a lot of quarreling because the wifi had issues and everyone thought it was because someone was doing it on purpose to cheat 🧨Hey wait a minute… YOU DID THIS ON PURPOSE, DIDN’T YOU RECTALFAN! 🧟Why is it every time something goes wrong, you assume it’s MY fault? HMM?! Maybe I should remind you of all the times you’ve thrown a wrench into my- our plans! 🍷I think it was the bushido warrior. He’s too quiet… and his jokes are unfunny as shit🗡️Says you, Russian pig! [INTENSIFIED OLD MAN YELLING] They tire themselves out into slumber in the living room.
#cod zombies#call of duty zombies#codz#primis dempsey#ultmis dempsey#tank dempsey#primis richtofen#ultimis richtofen#edward richtofen#takeo masaki#primis takeo#ultimis takeo#nikolai belinski#primis nikolai#ultimis nikolai#i poured my heart and soul into this so I hope it's worth the unecessarily long wait#im still so very sorry!!!!#I just wanted to make sure I gave it more than just basic responses
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She Should Be With Me ~ Ota
Hey!🩵
Finally getting around to posting Ota's story as part of this mini series. 😊
⛔️Trigger Warning! ~ Heavily implied and talks of violence, DV, self loathing. Please be aware of this before reading.⛔️
I really debated whether I would post this version or completely rewrite this entire fic. It heavily implies DV and briefly discusses the trauma/self loathing that comes from such relationships.
However, today marks 7 years of one of my own family surviving DV and making her break with both her and her child, so as it is a topic that really is close to my heart, it just felt right to keep it how it is.
The thoughts of the characters with how DV makes you feel are based on the emotions and beliefs my family member has described to me.
I do not claim to be an expert on DV or trauma. I am no trained expert. All I am aware of, is my own families experiences. ⚠️
As always, I included the link to the prologue below!⬇️⬇️
So far Eisuke, Mamoru, Soryu and now Ota have been posted, leaving just Baba's story to go! 😊
So this is...
Ota x MC
While there is jealousy, this story has much more focus on helping a loved one out of a harmful relationship.
Disclaimer ~ Characters belong to Voltage Inc
~ 4058 words
Everything fell silent. He could see the others lips moving. He knew they were making sound. Probably shouting various comments, voicing their surprise. Yet Ota could hear nothing. Nothing over the thumping of his own heart. The rapid ba-dums ringing in his ears. A throbbing pain started in his chest, as it tightened.
How long had he cherished MC? She had come to him when he was in such a low place, he guessed it was inevitable she would come to mean so much to him. But for him to have fallen in love? That had been the greatest shock to him.
Slapping on his usual angelic smile. Ota began to reminisce on the past few years, and how MC had become someone irreplaceable to him.
It had been months. Months since Ota had touched a paintbrush. Months since he could bring himself to look at a canvas. The media were having a field day with his lack of released works. He could still see the headlines now. “ANGELIC ARTIST A FRAUD?!” and “WILL OTA KISAKI, THE ANGELIC ARTIST, EVER PAINT AGAIN?”.
Despite not painting, Ota still carried a pad and pencil with him wherever he went. Was it habit? Or was it hope that something, somewhere would trigger his spark for drawing.
Ota was always doodling some sort of design. Nothing he would publish. But just random everyday things he saw. Such as the calloused hands of the food vendor on the street. The silhouettes of the happy couple he had witnessed on their first date. The swaying cherry blossoms, just starting to see their petals drop.
His designs, they were all drawings which to anyone else would be perfect. Yet for Ota… they lacked something. They had no depth. Was it his strict parents who were both top of their own fields that had left Ota with such a perfectionist trait? Or was he just hard on himself because he wanted to show his teacher he had been right when he believed Ota had the talent to be the best during this time?
One particular day Ota had entered a coffee shop a short distance from the hotel. He took a seat in the corner of the café, out of the way, somewhere he would be less likely to be spotted. After his coffee arrived, his eyes roamed the café.
Until they stopped.
There, in the opposite corner of the café sat a lone woman. Her hair cascaded down over her shoulder, tucked neatly behind her ear. She was beautiful. To Ota, she was as bright as the sun, or the brightest star in a clear night sky. He was drawn to her like a magnet. He watched as she enjoyed her coffee. She appeared to be doodling on a pad. Her face held a beautifully concentrated focus. Ota felt mesmerised, and before he knew what he was doing, he too was sketching. Forming on his pad, was the beautiful woman who had captured his attention so fully. And for the first time in months, something sparked in his creative mind.
By the time Ota had finished, his coffee was cold and the woman was gone. His shoulders slumped knowing he’d missed his chance to say hello to the mystery woman. But for the first time in months, a genuine smile featured on his face as he gazed at the drawing he had just completed.
For the next few weeks, Ota had similar experiences. He would casually find himself in the same locations as the mystery woman. It was genuine coincidence that he found her again and again. But to him, it felt like fate. After a few weeks, he had pages of various drawings of the woman he had watched from afar.
They were all of her completing mundane tasks. Grocery shopping, buying food from the street vendor, sitting on a park bench doodling, picking flowers, texting on her phone. Nothing particularly special, but yet these drawings, to Ota, were the best he had done.
The next place Ota spotted the woman surprised him. He was walking through the hotel lobby when three employees walked in to begin their shift. As always, he plastered on the angelic smile to greet the maids. But suddenly he froze. Were his eyes deceiving him? There with the other two maids, wearing the same uniform, was the lone woman he had been drawing these last few weeks. She was a maid at the hotel?! All this time she had been right next to him?
He raced back up to the lounge where he knew Eisuke was. He had to find out who this woman was.
When Ota showed Eisuke his drawings, Eisuke seemed pleased.
“Who is she, Eisuke?” He asked, desperate to find out the name of the woman who had reignited his creative flame.
“Her names MC. She’s a good employee. Why do you ask?” Eisuke smirked, testing Ota.
“Introduce us. Please.” Ota practically pleaded with Eisuke, which made his smirk deepen. He pulled out his phone and after 2 short rings he issued his command.
“Kenzaki, bring MC up here for me immediately”.
Ota sat patiently waiting. The 5 short minutes they waited had felt like hours. When the door opened the lone woman walked in quietly. Ota caught his breath. She was breathtakingly beautiful. A natural beauty. And the brightness he had seen before seemed to have grown. He couldn’t remove his eyes from her.
“Mr Ichinomiya, you wished to see me” she spoke. Even her voice, to Ota, was gentle, sonorous like an angel.
“First, coffee.” Eisuke instructed. MC seemed to be accustomed to this command. She even knew exactly how Eisuke had his coffee, which surprised Ota. How well did they know each other?
“Your coffee, Mr Ichinomiya… Sir.” MC placed a coffee in front of both men before Eisuke gestured for her to take a seat beside Ota.
“MC, the man sat beside you is Ota Kisaki, I’m sure you recognise him as both the angelic artist and one of our VIP guests. He asked me to introduce you both”
“Eis—I mean Mr Ichinomiya, w-why me?”
“MC it is ok, you can call me Eisuke when here. Ota state your business.”
“Do you two know each other?” Ota asked looking between MC and Eisuke.
“Our parents were good friends, when MC’s sadly passed away I brought her here to the hotel so she had work and a place to live. So, you could say we are friends” Eisuke replied, smiling kindly in MC’s direction. “Now, MC came all the way up here Ota, state your business”.
“Oh… yes right. MC, I’m Ota and I’d like you to take a look at a few of my drawings before I ask you something. Please, consider what I have to say before you say anything.” Ota pleaded slightly, and MC, confused, nodded.
Ota showed MC his drawings of her from the last few weeks. With each new drawing, the confusion but also surprise in MC’s eyes intensified.
“A-are they all of me?” MC exclaimed, looking up at Ota.
“Yes… you see, whenever I saw you I just had this urge to draw. I haven’t felt this creative urge in months. So please, please would you consider agreeing to be a model for my drawings? A couple of hours 2 or 3 times a week. We could talk pay?”
Eisuke and MC looked at each other and laughed. Ota was confused. Why were they laughing?
“No, we don’t need to talk pay” MC responded, still giggling.
“But please--!” Ota began to beg before Eisuke stopped him.
“Ota don’t beg. She isn’t saying no to modelling for you”
“She isn’t?” Ota looked bewildered, both Eisuke and MC smiled, chuckling again.
“No, she’s a nice girl Ota. She’ll help you out, won’t you MC”
“If you really think I’m good enough as a model for your art, I would happily help you” MC smiled.
And that smile was the beginning of Ota’s fall. As the weeks turned to months, and months turned to a year, then another and another, MC did as she promised. She sat and modelled however Ota asked for a couple of hours, 3 times a week.
As they got to know each other better, their time together wasn’t just spent modelling and drawing. MC had shown Ota her own drawings, and while she hadn’t been too happy with them, Ota could see she was talented, she just needed guidance to reach her potential.
So, Ota taught her. He showed her better techniques, gifted her better utensils, offering her guidance. During this time, she showed him smiles so full and bright, that falling in love with her was inescapable.
Ota could feel himself tensing. He had known about Mason, of course he had. But knowing about Mason was never going to be enough to prevent him falling so completely for her.
And if she was going to move in with him, Ota feared he would lose everything. His best friend, his muse, the woman he loved. All would disappear. All at once.
“No.” One voice sounded above the others. Eisuke’s.
“What do you mean, ‘no’? It is hardly your decision Eisuke” MC responded angrily. She was the only person capable of standing up to Eisuke. Perhaps due to knowing each other since childhood.
“I mean no. MC think about everything you have told us about him. I have tried to be patient and wait for you to end this farce of a relationship, I have kept quiet and kept out of your business. However, if you are serious about moving in with him, then I will step in and prevent that.” Eisuke spoke with authority. He spoke of everything each of the others were thinking but did not say themselves.
The truth was, Mason was controlling and had on occasion been physically violent towards MC. The guys had all at one point had to step him to keep MC from being badly hurt.
Without fully controlling and watching her constantly, they couldn’t stop her from sneaking out to meet him.
The decision to move in together, would prevent them from having any ability to protect her.
It had been Ota who first told Eisuke he suspected MC was being mistreated. Cuts and bruises on her arms, legs and back were visible on occasion when she was modelling for him.
When he asked her about them she brushed him off. “Oh, I’m just clumsy” or “Must have been while I was working”. Typical responses she would give.
“You can’t stop this Eisuke… it’s already happened. Anyway, things will get better living together. He won’t be worrying about what I’m doing all the time because I will be there at home”
“MC… don’t you see how that’s another way he will control you?” Ota tried to intervene, offer a calmer voice. But Eisuke wouldn’t have it.
“Shut it Ota. MC this man has hurt you. He controls you. We care about you MC. Too much to let you go and live with that man. I’m sorry, truly, but I can’t let you put yourself in danger any longer. You are to stay here, until we have spoken about this properly. In one of the suites here in the penthouse. You choose.”
“Dammit Eisuke!” Anger boiled in MC’s eyes, Ota was glad Eisuke was intervening but he hated seeing MC hurt.
“She can stay with me.” Ota spoke up, and everyone looked towards him. MC momentarily seemed to calm down at that thought. “Makes sense, she spends a lot of time with me anyway with the art stuff”
“Fine, I’ll stay with Ota. For now.” MC barked before storming off. Everyone watching after her.
“She’ll understand, I’m just doing what is best for her.” Eisuke stated, his eyes focusing in the direction she left.
“You’re doing the right thing.” Ota replied, following after MC.
**
A few hours had passed since Eisuke had placed MC under 'house arrest'. Ota had sat on the sofa in his suite silently sketching as he waited for MC to come out of the bathroom she had locked herself in.
His blank page had soon been filled with a silhouette drawing of MC sitting in a windowsill.
He was just beginning to add the finishing touches when he heard the sound of the bathroom lock clicking open.
Looking up he saw MC emerge, looking sheepish. Placing his sketchpad on the table, Ota headed into the kitchen and prepared two coffees.
“Thank you” MC whispered as she gratefully accepted the drink from him. A satisfied sigh leaking from her lips after the first sip.
Ota noticed she had begun to relax and so he silently continued to sketch. He figured he would wait for her to be ready to speak.
Although, he did not have to wait for long.
“I know Eisuke and you guys are only looking out for me…”
“Mhm” Ota replied, letting her know he was listening. Encouraging her to continue.
“I know I need to be away from Mason… I know how he treats me is wrong. But I’m scared, Ota… he knows where I am at all times. When I’ve been around you guys, his behaviour is worse… I thought leaving was the right thing. I thought… I thought I could help him, make things easier for him” MC stuttered, weeping as she spoke.
“MC… there is no way we could rightly let you go back. We have made that mistake too many times. You aren’t safe there. And you’re telling me you’re scared? That alone tells me Eisuke is doing what is best, not letting you leave.”
“But Ota… if I don’t go… he’ll just get angrier…” MC cried.
“That is why it is safest for you to stay here. He can’t get you if you are here. I promise, you’re safe here with me… *cough* I mean with us” Ota hastily corrected himself, dragging MC into a warm, tight embrace.
The scent of her perfume filled his senses. She smelt like cherry blossoms. The smell warming Ota’s heart. It made him wish to hold on tighter. Although, truthfully, it wasn’t the nostalgic smell that he wished to hold on to so dearly.
It was her.
This beautiful, wonderful woman who had come into his boring life, and filled it with so much joy. So much colour.
Someone like her crappy boyfriend, who didn’t know how to treat her properly was undeserving of such an angel. He would cherish her. He would love her how she deserved to be loved. Treat her with the care and kindness she warranted. She should be with him, he thought.
As he felt MC return his embrace, Ota placed a tender kiss to her forehead. Feeling her nuzzle into his touch, he lingered. Bringing a hand up to caress her cheek. The action bringing a blossom pink blush to them. A look that made her all the more endearing.
As MC looked up into Ota’s eyes, he brought his forehead to rest against hers. Everything felt right. In that moment, Ota felt like they were connecting on a deeper level. Her eyes hadn’t left his.
Her wide eyes, beckoned him closer.
And closer…
And closer…
Until.
“I need to go speak to Eisuke!” MC suddenly pulled herself away.
Out of his embrace. Ota was shocked for a moment. Frozen in place. Before he suddenly nodded, agreeing.
MC hurried from his suite, not before sparing one last glance in his direction.
Was her heart racing like his? He hadn’t imagined that moment, had he? They were… they were about to kiss?
Right?
**
It had been a few days since Ota and MC almost shared their would-be kiss.
Things had been relatively normal between them. They still spent their free time drawing together, with Ota teaching MC better techniques, while MC modelled for his art.
MC had spoken with Eisuke and apologised for her outburst. She was honest with how she was feeling, and had explained to Eisuke she was actually grateful that they would be helping free her from a relationship which had been making her miserable for a long time.
While they may have gotten her out of the home she had been in. They were having to keep her hidden away in the penthouse.
Particularly since Mason’s anger at her being taken from him was at its peak. He was sending horrid messages. Angry phone calls. Creating disturbances in the hotel.
All the while, Ota ensured MC was with him safe, while Eisuke and the others prevented Mason from getting any closer.
Mamoru had actively encouraged MC to report the harassment she was receiving. However, she blamed herself for his temper and outbursts.
She was the one who was abandoning him. She was the one who had moved in with him one second, and disappeared the next.
Yes, it was unhealthy. Yes, she knew that it was unsafe for her to return. But logic defied her. Logic wasn’t enough to make her feel like she was doing the right thing. For both her and Mason.
She had almost gone back.
A number of times she almost broke down and returned.
See that’s the hold these people hold over you. They are capable of making you blame yourself. Making you think that they need you, to be ok. When in reality they are taking every ounce of your confidence, worth, belief. Destroying it, until you rely on them solely.
This was something Ota and the others had been showing MC she was better than. That she was worth something. That she mattered.
To Ota… she was everything. And he was adamant he would make sure he built her back up. Build her confidence, show her how much she was worth. Help her believe in herself again.
And he would do it in the only way he knew how.
His art.
**
A few months had passed since the bidders had pulled MC out of her relationship.
After a month and a half Mason finally gave up.
He stopped messaging, calling, showing up at the hotel. He had suddenly become eerily silent.
Ota had had to promise MC that Eisuke and Soryu had not ‘taken care of’ Mason. Although, he couldn’t promise that they had not given him a helping hand in encouraging him to back off.
After 2 months, MC had moved back into the staff dorms. Back into her old room. Ota missed her company in his suite. It was quiet without her. But it did give him the time to work alone on his creation.
After deciding he was going to show MC exactly what she meant to him, he had begun designing his largest art piece yet.
He was creating a time lapse piece. Each canvas displayed a different part of the story.
From a young girl falling in love, to the pain of being trapped in a controlling relationship, to finally breaking free, and ending with the beauty of a woman as bright as the sun, walking to her future.
He was detailing her story. He wanted to show her just how magnificent she had become, how brightly she shone. Show her she was worth so much more than what she had once believed.
He called the piece…
A journey to self-love.
Each stroke of his paintbrush had been filled with his love for MC. Every dab of paint and colour held greater meaning than any piece he had completed before.
Every section had a purpose.
It was his greatest masterpiece. Just as she had become his greatest love.
When Ota had finally completed the piece, he invited the bidder’s to be the first to view it. He could guarantee they would be honest with him. They would tell him if he had captured the essence of what he wanted.
Especially Eisuke. His harshest critic. Particularly where MC was concerned.
Everyone was silent as they walked around the gallery. Moving from one canvas to the next. Ota could see in their eyes they were moved. They were impressed.
Eisuke had stopped in front of the last canvas. His eyes seemed softer as they gazed at the detailed painting of MC. Ota knew he was gazing at her with the care and love of an older brother.
The other bidder’s left, leaving the pair alone in front of the final canvas.
Ota waited with bated breath. What would he say?
“It’s perfect. You truly captured her journey. Thank you.” Eisuke whispered, eyes still focused on the canvas, before he continued. “She’s in love with you, too, you know. She told me, about your almost kiss… that was when she realised” Ota’s breath hitched. He had hoped, but was never certain. “Look after her”.
“I will.” Ota replied, a smile gracing his features. “Do you think she’ll like it?” He asked nervously.
“Mhm” Eisuke nodded, the gruffness back in his voice. Finally, he turned away from the canvas. Placing one strong hand onto Ota’s shoulder, before striding from the gallery.
All that was left for Ota to do now… was show MC. He desperately hoped she would like it, and understand how he feels.
**
Ota kept his hands covering MC’s eyes. She giggled as he awkwardly tried to lead her into the gallery. He placed her in front of the first canvas. Taking a deep breath, he whispered quietly into her ear.
“This is my greatest masterpiece…” slowly releasing her eyes.
The time MC took to adjust to the light felt like eternity to Ota, as he waited for some sort of reaction from her. Anything.
He watched as she took in each canvas. Spending time to truly appreciate each, and every one. Each stroke. Each detail.
The way she always took her time when observing his art always filled Ota was glee and satisfaction. For her, his muse, his love, to enjoy his creations… well, it filled his heart.
Ota noticed the changes in MC’s features as she went from one canvas to the next.
How she smiled in reminiscence at the young couples love blooming. How her features darkened and her smile faded at the young woman being trapped. The way her eyes shook with unhealed pain as she observed the pain the woman in the painting felt too.
And finally, he saw as her eyes glistened with unshed tears, sparkled with joy, as she observed the final canvas. The canvas which showed the woman as bright as the sun, journeying on into a better future.
MC turned to Ota, but before she could say anything he pulled her into a crushing embrace.
“You are incredible, MC. You have come so far. You are worth so so much. You truly do shine brighter than the sun, and I just needed you to know, just how amazing you are. How much you mean to—” Before Ota could finish, MC interrupted him.
With a kiss.
A deep, all consuming, kiss.
The softness of her lips pressing to his own, filled Ota to the brim. A satisfied sigh escaping his lips as he joined her in deepening their kiss.
Their tongues danced together to the beat of their own song. His hands snaking around her waist to pull her to him. He felt as her body shivered in obvious pleasure.
After what felt like forever, yet not long enough, they pulled away from each other.
“Thank you, Ota” MC whispered, as she attempted to calm her breathing. A single tear drop rolling down her fevered stained cheek.
Ota reached up, gently caressing her cheek, as though to dry her tears. He peppered featherlight kisses to her eyelids, cheeks, forehead, nose. The gesture resulting in a soft giggle from his loves lips.
“I love you, MC” Ota finally breathed the words he hadn’t dared share in the years he had known her. “I always have. Please, please let me continue to love you”
“I love you too, Ota. So much”.
Her honest, heartfelt declaration brought immense joy to Ota. He lifted her up into his arms before crashing his lips to hers once again.
Finally, the angelic artist had captured the heart of his muse. His love. His sunlight.
And like how his art would remain part of this world, he hoped their love too, would never fade.
#kbtbb fanfic#kbtbb ota#kissed by the baddest bidder#kissed by the baddest bidder fanfic#voltage fanfic#voltage inc#voltage otome#love 365#voltage games#kbtbb#ota kisaki
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Hey! I’m so excited to find a blog investigating the WH website! I’ve been trying to find blogs that try to piece together what’s been going on but since this is an upcoming project the fandom is pretty small (not that that’s a bad thing it’s just harder to find theories and informational posts about it sometimes) so it’s great to see you gather up the info and sharing ideas on what’s going on. Also, I checked out the site and the books in that gif of Frank’s head spinning and thought I saw something else that I wanted to add. In the “Do you think/know about me” part there’s additional text right after it that seems to say “You do.” which I thought was pretty interesting! I’m thinking that this could be Wally since he’s the one breaking the fourth wall the most so far and that he’s kind of answering for us (kind of like what he did on that phone call when he went: “Did you like my joke”, “I think you were going to say, yes!”) which could be because he can read our minds (from the call: “it’s hard to you think through this funny phone”) but what are your thoughts on this?
Also, I was wondering if you are interested in making any post on the images in the WH website and what happens when you inspect them? Because I have screenshots of all the info I found when investigating them if you were interested!
thank you!! there’s definitely other folks out there keeping an eye on the site and archiving things even more extensively (before the old phone recording was re-uploaded, for example, i knew at least 2 separate people who just Had It on hand. they never shared it publicly, for obvious reasons.) but most of the discussion’s in private gcs and servers and such. i’m definitely not complaining about that btw - the more the merrier! - but i thought it’d be convenient for other folks who were interested to have somewhere to host the observation doc in public.
and YESSS i would be VERY interested in seeing those screenshots if you’ve got them on hand. i’ve tried inspecting other images on the website before, but i’ll admit my tech literacy is lacking and i’m always scared of irrevocably fucking up the site layout somehow, so i’ve never gotten very far.
as for the actual observations:
i Do see that “you do”! i’ll add that to the doc right now. it definitely seems like wally’s being presented as a “patient zero” of sorts, since we know from the actual overview page that eventually Everyone gets in on the 4th wall-less existential dread roulette one way or another. however, i feel like “patient zero” is kind of a misleading term here, not only because there isn’t anything to suggest that this meta-awareness(?) is contagious in a traditional sense (at least not yet, but i don’t think there’s ever going to be, is what i’m getting at here) but also because i don’t quite think that wally being aware of the 4th wall is something that was an accident, per se - currently i think that at most, it was an unforeseen consequence of something very much intentional.
something about wally that clown likes to emphasize on their tumblr or on livestreams a lot is that he can Learn and is constantly Learning, though he may not always draw the “correct” conclusion from information he’s gathered (one example they’ve given multiple times is that barnaby taught wally how to laugh, but instead of actually laughing, wally just says the words “ha ha ha,” implying he thinks of it as a general expression of contentment/good will instead of something that’s usually an involuntary reaction.) you see some of this in the filenames for the guestbook doodles, too, where wally has to ask other neighbors what clowns are or what wiggle means, and doesn’t seem to realize that frank’s example of a clown was supposed to be a dig at barnaby (or alternatively, he just chose not make note of it since it’s not very polite.)
my working theory is that this is a result of wally being an audience surrogate, or at least the neighbor that was meant to be the most relatable to children, since As A General Rule, kids have a lot to learn about the world. if we follow that train of thought, wally has a greater reliance on human input than perhaps any other neighbor, and may be making himself at home on the welcome home restoration project website (or maybe even set the website up himself, somehow) so that he has a way to continue learning even after the show’s cancellation and/or get the show back on air in order to continue learning; it is called the welcome home restoration project, after all. again, heavy emphasis on “theory” here - this definitely doesn’t account for every specific instance of weirdness on the site right now, nor is it the Full scope of what i think may be going on, but it’s what’s most relevant to this ask!
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An Amalgamation Waltz 1839. |01|
> pairing: min yoongi x reader
> genre: FallenAngel!AU
> words: 23k
> warnings: hints of smut (heavy make out), a scene of harassment (nothing explicit), violence. possible heresy. forgive me. a third party’s unrequited feelings for OC. don’t know if i did this right, it’s 3 am right now.
> summary: When it comes to the both of you, a lifetime is not enough. And when it comes to you, there’s really no lines he wouldn’t be willing to cross. Even on the brink of a war that could destroy the world as we know it, you’re everything.
“ (...) ‘Would you be able to love someone as tainted as him?’ he asked wistfully.
You lifted your upper body, compelling him to a sitting position as well.
‘I’ve never had to,’ you pecked his lips chastely, even though he still kept his eyes trained on the grass underneath you.”
a/n: my love for Paradise Lost gave birth to this. i really like this one :) gonna be posting the second (and last) part soon! no need to say that PL was just an inspiration, this isn’t exactly based on the poem.
“(…) Here at least
We shall be free, the almighty hath not built
Here for his envy, will not drive us hence:
Here we may reign secure, and in my choice
To reign is worth ambition though in hell:
Better to reign in hell, than serve in heaven.”
The sudden thud on the wooden surface of the table made you jolt and close the book, heart rate increasing considerably.
“Y/N.” His voice was deep, dragging your name through his teeth to evince his annoyance. The bustling café was already at its peak hours and you didn’t even notice the time as it passed you by.
“Yes, Taehyung?” You ogled your grumpy friend, his noisy arrival being due to the study material he tossed in front of you.
“You said you’d help me with English lit. I was waiting for you at the library for about an hour and your phone is off.” As you remembered why you were even in the café in the first place, you threw him a guilty look. He pouted. “Hey, what does that Milton guy have that I don’t? And the fancy words don’t count.” You giggled.
“John Milton has nothing on you, Tae. He’d probably need my help to get through this semester as well.” The joke seemed to almost let you in his good graces again, but you knew he still needed the bribery. “I’ll buy you your favorite if you forgive me.” You could tell he was fighting back a smile upon hearing your offer, his mood suddenly uplifted.
“Okay. But don’t think I’ll let you off the hook that easily.”
“I wouldn’t dare. Wait here.” You went to the balcony to pay the check and get his frappuccino to go. Taehyung was a sweet guy who liked sweet things, and that also applied to his coffee. His sweet tooth earned him a nickname from you – Marzipan. Waiting for the bartender to finish your order, you looked over where your best friend was digging through your copy of Paradise Lost without much enthusiasm.
You had moved in next door to his house about fifteen years ago, and you two instantly initiated a solid friendship. As much as you could say about three-year-olds. Despite him being one of your favorite people in the whole world, the both of you were into totally different things. He went to parties, you enjoyed some lone quality time. He played all sorts of sports, you preferred to stick to your writing and, sometimes, the piano. You were still working on the latter. But even though you seemed to be totally opposites, he still got you like no one else could. He was the person you told all your secrets to, not that you had that many anyway, and you liked to think – no, you were sure of it – he felt the same way about you.
“Here’s your overly-sweet drink, Marzipan. I don’t even know if you can still call it coffee,” you scowled.
“Don’t diss my frappuccino, it’s the sole reason of my forgiveness.”
“Yeah, right. So, you wanna get going? I’m sure you have a lot of thoughts on that book already.”
“It was very average so far, if I do say so myself. I don’t know why you like it so much,” he teased you.
“Well, that’s what the private lessons are for. So I can teach you good taste.” You pushed the door open and immediately shivered as you felt a cold gush of air. It was snowing.
“Here, take my coat. Why don’t you ever wear decent clothes in the winter? I swear to God, I don’t know how you never caught something serious, like pneumonia or whatever,” he scolded.
“You don’t have to. We’re near home anyway,” you tried to reassure him, but he was, as usual, outwardly ignoring it. “Really, Tae, it’s no big deal. Let’s go.” He was ready to fight you on this one, but you were already walking away. He took a few hurried steps to catch up.
After a ten-minute walk, daylight was almost completely gone, lit lampposts following its wake. You both hit the front door rug with your feet several times before getting inside, your mom was a bit freaky when it came to cleaning.
“Mom, Tae’s here!” You shouted from the living room, guessing she was in the kitchen. “We’re going upstairs for a bit! School work!”
“Okay, honey! Tell him that dinner will be ready soon!” She responded.
“I love you, Ms. D’Angelis!” He shot back. Yes, you had an italian background. When she heard his voice, she made sure to come out and greet him.
“Love you, too, honey”, she pecked his forehead and he beamed. They liked each other way too much for their own good. “And you,” she pointed in your direction, “give mamma a kiss.”
You sighed before attending to her request. It was in your best interest not to fight it. “Okay, enough of this. We’ll be upstairs if you need us.”
“Have fun, kids.” You sure would. Taehyung might beg to differ.
The rest of the night was somewhat peaceful. You had helped Taehyung as much as you could before your mother called you out to eat, claiming that you shouldn’t starve the boy and then make him eat a cold meal. He couldn’t agree fast enough. For the most part, that was your life. Uncomplicated and comfortable, which was plenty for an eighteen year old. When you went to bed after practicing the piano for a little while, you were completely unaware of the pair of pitch black eyes that observed you through the window. But he was fully aware of you.
||\\
[Fear of the Water, by SYML]
You knew it was a dream. From the moment your brain processed the heavenly sight that unrevealed before your eyes, you knew. It was breaking dawn, the soft orange light kissing the ocean like a long lost lover. You were at the end of a cliff, but couldn’t find it in yourself to be afraid. You looked down at the waves that broke into the rocks almost violently, the salty breeze somewhat comforting. You loved the sea.
Taking a few deep breaths, you barely noticed the crack. The sound came from somewhere behind you, but you didn’t want to look away from the view, neither did you want to wake up. When you heard it again, you recognized footsteps. You turned around lazily, curious as to whom it would be the visitor of your reverie. When you fixed your eyes on him, though, you stopped breathing for a moment and your heart surely skipped a beat. He was a stranger in a number of ways, for he was seemed truly unworldly. Maybe ethereal was the word you were looking for. His violet eyes were scrutinizing you from head to toe. Beautiful. His hair was dark as it fell like a silky curtain on his forehead. Not a single flaw on his skin or his body, but none of that was as breathtaking as what lied on his back. Great, large white wings, so beautifully outstretched that you felt unworthy of looking at them.
You opened your mouth a few times, but nothing would come out. Probably for the best, you didn’t want to make a fool of yourself in front of what was probably your mind’s greatest creation. How you could come up with him was beyond you. You wanted to ask his name before it all ended and you had to go back to real life, back to average. You wanted to touch his face, his wings, see for yourself if they felt as they looked. You wished you never woke up. As he took a step closer, you took your own back, startled at the sudden movement. Before you realized your mistake, it was too late. You had lost your balance. You knew it would be over soon. Taking one last look at the stranger, you saw as he stretched one arm to reach you, but to no avail. Too soon, the wind was ricocheting your skin and you were falling.
You woke up with a loud gasp as you searched for air, finding it oddly rarefied. When you registered the annoyingly high pitch of your alarm, you whined. Real life was the last thing you wanted to face right now, but if you told your mother that you’d stay in bed daydreaming about a figment of your imagination, she would personally retrieve you from the bed and toss you into the shower. Made sense.
Getting ready as quickly as you could manage, you felt excited for no obvious reason. Maybe it was the afterglow of the dream, but now you were eager to get out of the house, as if you wanted to find him. Which was insane, because you knew he did not exist. Come to think about him now, it was getting harder by the minute to remember his face. You panicked.
Running towards your desk and grabbing a pencil and your notebook, you tried to recreate him on paper, which was a lost battle from the start. Even if you were some doodling genius – you were definitely not – you would never be able to do him justice. You doubted anyone who had ever stepped on this planet, past or present, ever would. It was not the kind of beauty that could be explained or demonstrated, but rather felt. He wasn’t just inhumanely pretty, wings and all. There was something about him that you couldn’t quite pinpoint. It may sound cheesy and totally deranged, but you felt whole in those few shared moments, like you knew him your entire life. Your mind didn’t recognize him, but your body did.
Groaning at the piece of paper and throwing the pencil at your baby-blue wall in annoyance, you gave up. It was pointless, his features were already escaping your mind. You didn’t know why you were so hung up on a dream, honestly. Seeing that you were a little riled up, you decided to let it go and just finish getting ready for class. You could see through the window that Taehyung was already waiting for you.
||\\
“So, how did it go?”
He pouted before answering. “It went alright.” Lies, he was a big fat liar.
“C’mon, Marzipan, be honest with me for a second.”
The nickname finally broke him down. “Fine, I hated it. I remember you telling me about every important detail of the subject yesterday, but I couldn’t put it on paper. Plus, why the fuck does he have to elaborate the questions so much? Most of the time I didn’t even understand what was being asked. Literature sucks,” he whined indignantly. You could tell it was taking a toll on him.
“Don’t worry too much about it, okay? I will help you. We’ll both graduate this year, yeah?” you reached his hand on a reassuring squeeze.
“If you say so.”
“I do.”
“Then sure. But you have to take me seriously, Y/N,” he warned you. “No more losing track of time in coffee shops.”
“Hey, I bought you a frappuccino, that incident should be six feet under by now,” you accused and he mumbled a grumpy response.
The both of you spent half of the morning taking the lit test. You thought you did fine, though the questions really were a little bit tricky. Walking side by side with Taehyung, you didn’t notice him at first. But once you realized there were no seats available right next to each other, your eyes eventually landed on his.
“We can’t sit together through this class, we’re too late,” Tae grumbled, trying to get your attention back to himself, but to no avail. “Y/N? Hey!” He flicked your forehead and you yelped.
“Did you just… flick me?” you seethed.
“I wouldn’t have had to if you weren’t lusting over the new guy. Who is he, by the way?” If you acknowledged the hint of jealously in his tone, you didn’t show it.
“I was not lusting over anybody,” you huffed.
“If you say so.”
“Stop saying that.”
“Grumpy. Is it because I caught you?” You just snarled and took a seat at the front row, while he chuckled and chose the one in the back.
To be honest, you were lusting a little. Those eyes seemed oddly familiar, though you couldn’t quite put a finger on why. The rest of the day passed by smoothly; you were able to sit with Taehyung for the remaining classes you had together and even helped him a bit with some homework. After a while, your new classmate was nowhere near your mind, despite that funny feeling you got every time you looked at him. Maybe it was because he was stunningly handsome. Who knows? You never cared much about those things, but you were only human.
On your way home with Taehyung, you felt eyes burning on your back. You turned around and found him staring, expression unfathomable. He wore a black lather jacket, jeans and a black shirt, his dark hair beautifully disheveled. He gave you a wanton grin and you scoffed. Well, you knew his type, and it unnerved you to death.
Preppy playboy. Nothing more, nothing less.
He cut off the eye contact abruptly, heading towards a grey motorcycle. No shit, huh? You almost laughed at the predictability. You weren’t exactly into bikes, but that looked expensive. And it suited him perfectly.
“Holy-… do you see that? That’s a Triumph fucking Rocket,” Taehyung gasped, shaking your elbow lightly. “A 2500cc engine capacity Triumph Rocket. Man, his parents must be loaded. That’s not a high schooler’s bike,” he said, almost dreamy. Yeah, you saw that coming from a mile away.
“You talking about the new guy?” You asked nonchalantly, turning your head as you resumed walking.
“Don’t even try to pretend you weren’t ogling just now,” he accused.
“You’re obsessed with our new-found bad boy. Maybe you should date him, Tae,” a snicker left your lips at his appalled expression.
“Shut up,” he pushed your shoulder. “I’m just curious.”
“As in bi-curious?”
“Okay, that’s it, I’m leaving you behind,” he grumbled as he fastened his pace. You chuckled, trying to catch up with his long legs.
When you arrived home, you noticed an attempt of a drawing on top of your bed. It looked like a poorly doodled angel. First things first: though it definitely looked like something made by your hands, you didn’t have any recollection of it, let alone of leaving it on display like that. You looked around, searching for something, but nothing else seemed out of place. Trying to shrug the uneasiness off, you picked some clothes off the wardrobe and went for a warm bath.
||\\
It was a Saturday afternoon, so you planned to do the usual: hit the library and grab some coffee on your way home. Taehyung had promised to watch a movie with you this weekend, but a surprise party to one of his friends came up. He’d invited you to tag along, more out of habit than anything else. Your answer was always the same when he asked you to spend time with his peers; you weren’t even remotely fond of them. They had maybe one functioning braincell and a whole lot of conceit. Not your crowd at all.
“Mom, I’m leaving. Do you need me to get you anything?” You said, already on your way to the front door.
She was sprawled on the couch, gazing attentively at the TV. “No, honey, thank you. Are you going out with Tae?”
“Nope, something came up, we rescheduled. I won’t be long.”
“Okay, then. Be careful!”
“Will do!”, you shouted from the outside.
It was closing time when the sweet old lady had to gently kick you out. You weren’t surprised when you found out your phone was dead; you probably had a billion calls from your mother and, if she was desperate enough, maybe even Taehyung. Letting out a sigh, you grabbed your stuff quickly and waved goodbye to the librarian as you made your way out the door, grumbling to yourself about not being able to pick up some coffee now.
The air was hazy and cold, you couldn’t see more than ten feet ahead, and the streets were oddly empty. You tightened your coat around your body and quickened your pace, not willing to spend more time outside than you needed to. Seeing that all the stores were closed, you realized that Martha (the librarian) probably let you outstay your welcome a little bit. You cursed at the freezing night and your cheap coat. Taehyung was right, you should buy warmer clothes.
Lost in thoughts, you were stupid enough to miss the drunken noises coming from the end of the street. There was a group of three men coming your way and they all seemed to have ingested an unhealthy amount of booze, laughing loudly and pushing each other playfully. You felt cold sweat fall down your spine but just tried to ignore it, hoping that you’d be able to pass them by without being noticed.
“Y/N?” His voice was dragged, and he was tumbling around the words. It was only then you realized they were from your school, the boy in the middle being Jimmy, Taehyung’s drink buddy.
“Hi”, you tried to stay as far away as possible, but the one with the fashionably boring rectangular glasses didn’t let you, hooking his arm around your neck. He reeked of cigarettes and whiskey.
“C’monnn-“ he hiccupped, “don’t you wanna par-tay with-“ another one, “-us?”
You repressed the urge to gag as your pulse quickened.
“Not really. I have to go,” you almost managed to untangle his disgusting arm from you, but he kept it in place, holding you tighter. “Let go of me.”
You were annoyed. And scared to death, to be honest. These boys didn’t exactly live by a moral code, and the four of you were alone in the middle of nowhere. You didn’t trust them.
“Aww, don’t be shy, princess. You’re always so… boring. Makes me curious about what you’ve got going on under all… that.” The last one, Ian, made his way towards you, snickering menacingly. He wasn’t as drunk as the other two, and if you could give a hunch, you’d say he knew exactly was he was doing. That scared you even more. Feeling the brick-wall hit your back, you realized you were cornered, a curse escaping your dry lips.
“Look, I really have to g-“ he cut you off by pressing his body into yours, making you lose your breath for all the wrong reasons. “What the fuck, man?! Let go of me!” You were visibly growing desperate as you tried to punch his face and his chest, but that only earned you a chuckle from him as he held both your wrists with one hand.
“Feisty. I like it.” You almost puked right then and there, the bile stuck in your throat making you scowl. He let his filthy fingers slide down your sides, until he could grope your ass.
Your stomach sank, heart drumming against your ribcage as you held back a whimper.
Okay, think.
Taehyung had taught you the basics about self defense a thousand moons ago. And yet, you realize that it was nothing like the real thing. You balled your clammy fingers tightly, knuckles white as you scanned every corner of your brain to try and find a way out.
“Tae will kill you if you touch me,” your voice trembled. You couldn’t help it.
He laughed whole-heartedly. As if the mere thought was actually funny to him.
“He wouldn’t dare, sweetheart. Besides, I think he actually wouldn’t mind sharing his bitch with us for the night,” he stated. “He’s not using it anyways,” he punctuated with a roll of his hips and, this time, as you felt the pathetic bulge inside his pants, you couldn’t hold back a tiny sob. Because fuck, this was it. There was no way you could take down three grown men on your own.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” The voice was low and steady. It made your skin crawl. You snapped your head and looked at the dark haired man standing behind the boys. Ian lazily turned around, still keeping your wrists wrapped tight in his hand.
“None of your business, newbie. Now get out of my sight before I lose my patience.”
When he chuckled, it was different from Ian’s. It was darker, rougher, and concealed a vicious ferocity that you knew was there. You knew because, as he disregarded your aggressor and looked you in the eyes, you almost feared for them.
“Ian, dude, let it go.” Jimmy instantly sobered up and tried to avoid any confrontation. To think he spent time with your best friend but would let Ian harass you without saying a word was disgusting. “Come on, your old man will kill you if you get in trouble again.” So that was his main concern. Still looking out for his shitty, abusive friend. Men’s sorority really is misogyny.
“You should listen to your friend. Believe me, you won’t survive me when I get my hands on you,” he stated matter-of-factly. You felt the sincerity in your bones. And so did Ian and his stupid cavalry. “Leave.”
Ian sighed, but relented. You felt a hot wave of relief as he disconnected his body from yours, leaning on the wall for balance as your legs wabbled.
“You better watch out,” he spits.
“Y/N, I... I’m really sorry,” Jimmy said as he scooped his friends and dragged them away from you. “You too, Min. He’s just drunk. We would’ve stopped him if it got too far.”
He’s lying. You can tell.
“Get the fuck out of my sight,” he growls, his composure faltering for a minute. As they stray out of view, he turns his gaze to you.
“Care to tell me what the hell are you doing walking alone in the middle of the night?”
He’s angry.
You scoffed, adjusting your coat around your shoulders and straightening your back.
“Thank you for the help, but I’m too old for a babysitter,” you say. “Besides, I don’t even know you.”
He looks at you and, as if trying to regain some sense and control a fit of rage, he closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose before exhaling a long puff of air.
“Alright. My name is Yoongi,” he takes you by surprise as he snatches your wrist in an iron grip, “And I'm fucking walking you home.”
As he drags you across the street, you want to yell at him. You want to tell him to fuck off, you preppy bastard. But you don’t.
Because the truth is, you’re so fucking grateful. God knows what would’ve happened if it wasn’t for him. As he calms down, he drops your hand and slows his pace, allowing you to catch up without having to make an effort. You want to talk, but you choose to stay quiet.
Now that you weren’t so skittish anymore, it finally dawned you how the snow was beautifully spread throughout the streets, the trees, the buildings. Everything that was cool, cold, blue, held some fascination to you. Summer was never really your season – it had always been winter. To be able to curl up on your couch with a warm blanket and a hot cup of coffee, it was heavenly. You always thought that, if you could see the world through a color palette, it would be in different shades of blue.
The snow was not the only thing that you were entranced by, though. Yoongi was, from what you saw so far, much like winter to you. Harsh when needed, cool, but also peaceful and comforting. He didn’t urge you to talk about the incident; he didn’t urge you to talk at all. His mannerisms caught your attention from time to time – how he constantly ran his long fingers through his hair, how his eyes seemed to flutter shut lazily a few times in a row, or how he carried himself so elegantly that it almost made you jealous. He looked terribly familiar, too.
“Why are you staring?” His bluntness caught you off guard, but still couldn’t disturb the peacefulness of the moment.
“Just curious.” It was true. “Apart from the motorcycle and the superhero complex, I don’t know much about you.”
“Well, there’s not much to know.”
You hummed in response. “What are you doing here, then?” You ask, and his feet come to a halt.
“What is this, an interrogation?”
You scoff, and you both start walking again. “Just trying to make conversation. Besides, I’m actually curious,” you ponder. “People don’t move into this town very often,” you kick the snow under your feet. He sighs.
“I’m here with my… brother,” he hesitated before continuing, “he’s my guardian, sort of. We used to move a lot. Work thing.” He couldn’t hold back a grimace, but it disappeared in a second. You wanted to ask about his parents, but felt like you’d be crossing a line, so you kept your curiosity to yourself. “Now you tell me,” he said.
“Tell you what?”
“About yourself. Your family. Whatever you want to.”
“Um, let me see. I live with my mom. We moved from Italy when I was about three years old. My dad… my dad stayed.” You didn’t want to get into it, and he immediately noticed, just nodding for you to continue. “She’s been taking care of me by herself since then.”
He hummed in understanding, sparing you a few glances that you couldn’t quite decipher.
Before you knew, your house was already in sight. You wished you lived farther, just so you could keep that strange interaction on for a little longer.
“Well, this is me,” you announced. Lying about your address had crossed your mind somewhere along the way.
“Sorry if I was a jerk,” he surprised you by saying. You mouth opens and closes a few times before you say anything.
“It’s okay, I guess. I was pretty riled up, too.”
He nodded. “See you Monday, then?” His voice was deep and silky.
“Yeah. Hey, I… I’m glad you showed up when you did.”
“I am, too,” there was a dark undertone in his voice. “Good night, Y/N,” he surprised you by leading his right hand to the top of your head and lightly messing your hair before walking away. You stood still for a minute, until your mother opened the door.
“Y/N?! Darling, why did you take so long? I was so worried!”
“Um… Sorry, mom. I ran into a friend and my phone was off.”
“Well, you should’ve at least borrowed your friend’s phone to let me know, things aren’t like they used to be around these parts anymore, it’s getting pretty danger-“
She kept talking as she let you in, but you couldn’t concentrate. That night, you dreamt of him.
||\\
“(…) Farewell happy fields
Where joy for ever dwells: hail horrors, hail
Infernal world, and thou profoundest hell
Receive thy new possessor: one who brings
A mind not to be changed by place or time.
The mind is its own place, and in itself
Can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.”
You didn’t think of yourself as an early riser, but when Monday morning came, you woke up before the alarm – and seemed almost delighted to do so. To be honest, you really tried to ignore the eagerness to see him again, but to no avail. The day before was thoroughly torturous, flashes of the short period of time you spent together coming back to haunt you now and then. At some point, you were so annoyed that you just lied on the bed and attempted to blast your eardrums off by listening to some crappy rock band at full volume. It didn’t work, obviously, and now you probably had hearing damage. The cons and cons of obsession.
At this exact moment, for the first time in your entire friendship, you were banging on Taehyung’s door first. Because you just couldn’t wait a minute longer.
“Damn it, woman, was is it with you today?” The sound of his voice was muffled. That, or you were going deaf, there was no way to tell for sure.
“You’re going to make us late, Marzipan!” At that, he opened his bedroom door slightly, just enough so you could peek at his disheveled hair and sleepy face.
“It’s dick o’clock in the morning, we have at least forty minutes until we leave,” his voice was rugged and he had an aggrieved look plastered on his pouty face.
“I brought you coffee,” you smiled at him while raising the thermal cup.
“Stop the madness and go wait for me downstairs, Gilmore girl,” he grunted. “Dad probably misses you, the poor old man. Keep him company, will ya?”
“Don’t be silly, Mrs. Kim need his sleep in the morning.”
“Then shut up and don’t wake him,” he grunted, closing the door shut, but it took him just a second to reopen it. “Wait, if dad’s asleep, how did you get in?”
“I, uh… Might or might not know that you keep a spare key inside the porcelain elf’s hat,” your lips tugged upwards sheepishly.
“Of course you do, you little imp. I’ll be down in a sec,” he grumbled and shut the door again.
Taehyung had asked you a couple of times why you were so anxious to get to school that morning, but you just brushed it off with an excuse that you knew he wouldn’t buy. There were several reasons as to why you wanted to keep things to yourself for now. Mainly, it was because you were afraid that he’d be furious enough to break Ian’s face in front of everybody once you told him the whole story. Not that you felt any sympathy, but rather that you didn’t want Tae to get in trouble. You’d tell him as soon as you could, though. You didn’t care for the idea of him being friends – or whatever they were – with Jimmy.
As soon as you stepped into school ground, you discreetly searched for his motorcycle in the parking lot. It wasn’t there. You tried not to let the disappointment show on your face, but you couldn’t help it. He didn’t come today. Who cares? As much as you wanted to force some sense into your stubborn brain, you were still hoping he’d show up, even if you didn’t talk to each other. You just wanted to see him, is all. Great time to start acting like a stupid teenager, Y/N. Kudos.
You were in the middle of a pretty heated argument with yourself as you entered the classroom. Taehyung picked a desk in the middle, as he usually did when the both of you were able to sit next to each other. You were almost putting your stuff down at his side when something caught your attention. There. You felt a girlish jolt of excitement when you saw Yoongi sitting at the last row. His silky black hair was damped, probably from the shower, and he was wearing a black, long sleeved shirt, v cut. You were about to divert your eyes, but then he stared right at your face and calmy removed his bag from the chair next to his. He smirked, as if defying you to take a seat. Annoying little piece of-
“Tae, do you mind if I sit somewhere else today?”
“What?” He looked at you, confused. “Where do you want us to…” Your eyes flashed to the end of the room and he followed your gaze. “What? Why would you-”
“Do you mind?”
“Uh… No?”
“Okay, great. See you soon.” You knew Taehyung was confused, so you should probably be thinking of what to tell him when this class was over. But for now, you just carried yourself to the empty spot in the back. Yoongi was looking at you with an amused expression, hiding his little smile behind his intertwined hands. You wanted to wash that smug off his face so bad. You took a seat and his scent assaulted you, warm and musky. Almost irresistible. You saw Taehyung from across the room gazing at the both of you with an inscrutable countenance.
“Is your boyfriend mad that you sat with me today?” He audaciously asked.
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
“I see. Must be hard, then,” he looked almost sympathetic.
“What?” Your face contorted into confusion.
“Nevermind. Tell me how was your Sunday,” he said while opening his notebook and doodling something you couldn’t decipher yet.
“So we’re friends now?”
“Pretty much.”
“Shouldn’t you ask me first?” You lifted your brow.
“You’re bossy today.”
You were about to give him a proper answer when the teacher barged in, almost breathless. As the class began, focusing on Hess’s Law was your main priority, it really was. But you couldn’t help the tingle crawling up your skin every time he unintentionally bumped his arm into yours, because he was still drawing, keeping his head down since Mrs. Edwards started talking. Still, you couldn’t move. No. Focus. You held onto the edge of your desk with one hand, knuckles white, as you kept the other taking notes on the subject.
“Relax,” he softly whispered, not taking his eyes away from his notebook. You immediately loosened the tight grip of your left hand.
“I’m relaxed,” you lied, imitating his tone. He chuckled, lifting his head to show you the most beautiful gummy smile. God, why was he so distractingly handsome? His soft, pale skin, his cat-like eyes. His hands, Lord, you wouldn’t even dwell on his hands. Everything about him was appealing, alluring. His voice, his smell, his gaze. He was devilish.
All of a sudden, he ripped off the page he was working on. You tried not to get even more distracted, keeping your eyes on the board, until he touched your arm with his hand. You tensed. “Here, keep this if you want to,” he said, passing the folded paper to you. Curiosity washed over your face and you were about to unfold it, but he stopped you. “I don’t think you should open it now.”
“Why? Is it, like, an erotic sketch?” You could tell you broke his demeanor a little, he seemed both shocked and amused.
“I wonder if that kind of thought crosses your brain very often. You’re filthy, Y/N,” he smirked. You almost choked at his tone and his words. He was teasing you, and you refused to go down without a fight.
“Well, I don’t exactly know you, do I? You could be a perv.” He bit back a chuckle.
“I’m an honorable man. You’ll see.”
“Will I, now?”
“Yes. We’re friends now, aren’t we?”
“You haven’t convinced me yet.”
“Challenge accepted.” The two of you stared at each other for a few seconds, then the bell rang. He grabbed his stuff and got up, then tilted his head and asked, “Do you want a ride… friend?”
“I thought you didn’t ride here today.” Confusion stained his expression before he realized the meaning behind your words. You could see the enlightenment in his face and suddenly banging your head on a wall wasn’t all too bad. He was too cocky for his own good, and now you’ve just made it worse. Way to go.
“I parked on a different spot,” he responded.
“Yeah, sure. Uh, anyways… Thanks for the offer, but I’m going home with Tae.”
“Suit yourself.” Before walking away, he turned around and said, “I’ll save you a seat tomorrow, Y/N.” Before you could elaborate an answer, he was already out the door, and Taehyung was in front of you with that ‘what-the-actual-fuck’ face he made every time he was caught off guard.
“I’ll explain on the way home,” you sighed.
||\\
You were both in the safety of your bedroom when you told Taehyung everything. From how Ian tried to do God knows what with you, to why he wasn’t able to. Pure luck. It was pure luck that Yoongi happened to be passing by, and it was pure luck that he’d bothered to check what was going on. You told him Jimmy was there. You saw the guilt and rage clawing their way to his chest, and there it was; the reason you were wary to tell him in the first place. Taehyung was explosive, a force of nature when he let himself indulge.
“I’ll kill him. Why did you hide that from me?” Even though he was trying his best to hold back, you could still tell how furious he truly was. “Answer me, Y/N, I’m not fucking around here,” he didn’t mean for it to sound like a scold, but it still did.
“I knew you’d be mad,” you retorted.
“Of course I’d be fucking mad. I don’t think you understand just how mad I am.”
“I know. Tae, really, nothing serious happened. It’s not worthy getting yourself in trouble for it.”
“How can you even say that?” he barked.
“Promise me you’ll let it go,” you asked softly.
He looked like he’d just heard the worst profanity fall from your lips. “I don-“
“Promise, Tae,” you were using your serious voice now, the one you used to tell him that no, it was not okay for him to mess with your books back when you were kids. You took it to the heart too often. He stared at you for a moment or two before sighing.
“Okay,” he grudgingly said. “If that’s what you want.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you,” he said after a moment.
“It’s not your fault. Really, it’s not.”
“I know. I’m just… sorry,” he let his head rest on your lap. You hummed and stroke his hair for a while. These little moments of utter understanding and peace was one of the reasons he was your best friend. The person you could rely on, always. And he could always rely on you, too.
||\\
A few weeks passed you by in the blink of an eye. After the infamous events of that night, you and Yoongi grew closer each day. Not that it was always easy, he was infuriating at times; you had to be sharp to keep up with the incessant bickering. But, for what it’s worth, you were able to gather that he was much more than just a little shit, even though he tried to deny it.
And you suppose that’s one of the reasons to why your stomach flutters and your heart skips a couple of beats when he gets too close.
Probably a month too late, you come across that piece of paper Yoongi had mysteriously given you the first morning you sat together. You took it in your hands with a gasp and carefully unfolded it, taking a sharp intake of breath at the drawing. It was a pair of eyes – your eyes, perfectly detailed by strong, yet delicate, traces. It was beautiful and left no room for doubts as to whose they were. The cocky bastard was actually pretty talented, you had to give him that. Before you had much time to think about it, your phone rang. You hesitated a moment before picking up, the number was unknown.
“Hello?”
“Did you like it?” The voice on the other line was coarse and drawn, and you recognized it immediately.
“How did you get my number?” You asked while laying yourself on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
He had become a constant whenever you were at school or at the library. Nothing beyond that. The call was a pleasent surprise.
“I have my ways. Will you answer at least one of my questions anytime soon?” There was a hint of a boyish amusement in his tone, and that instantly made you lighter. You liked him better in a good mood.
“You don’t answer any of mine, so why should I bother?” You shrugged, even though he couldn’t see you.
“That’s hardly fair. What do you want to know, George?”
You scoffed at the nickname. “First things first. I want to know how you got my number.”
“It’s not so hard to get privileged information on the students’ personal data if you’re charming enough. Ms. Parker has a soft spot for me.” Of course. You should’ve seen it coming.
“You’re shameless,” you scolded half-heartedly, taking a plushie in your hands and squeezing it.
“It’s one of my many qualities. So, can you answer me now?”
“Hmm… I might’ve liked it,” you stated, referring to the book he’d recommended. “But you’re already a pretty conceited man, so I should probably spare you the details.”
He was silent for a while, and you almost mention the drawing you found in your backpack. But then, he’s talking again. “So you think I’m pretty, huh?”
“Are you… Have you-“ you stammered in astonishment and he chuckled. “Do you actually select the words you want to hear?” you asked and he hummed.
“Where are you?”
“Home,” you answered without much thought.
“I’ll pick you up in ten. Be ready.”
“Wait, what?” You jolted out of the bed, dropping the plushie on the floor. “You can’t just… decide that. What if I’m busy?”
“You’re not.”
“What if I don’t want to?”
“But you do,” He sounded almost confused. And he was right, you did want to. Somewhere deep inside your brain there was a voice saying that you should’ve objected at least a little bit more. But, against your better judgement, you kept quiet, and soon enough your silence gave you away. “I’m hanging up now. See you soon, George.” You meant to talk back to him, but he’d already ended the call. That, arrogant, insolent, contemptuous jer-
Before finishing that thought, you remembered you didn’t have much time. So you took a five minute shower, put on a little mascara and went out of the bathroom to find something to wear. There wasn’t enough time to go wild, so you just went for your favorite pair of mom jeans and tucked a burgundy sweater in. After brushing your hair and your teeth, you were ready.
As soon as you were done, you heard a horn and rushed to the window. There he was, in all his glory, hips resting against his stupidly cool Triumph Rocket. Black boots, black jeans, black long-neck shirt and his usual leather jacket. Wonder what his favorite color might be, you scoffed. He shot you a smirk that made you hold your breath for a moment. It now occurred to you that you had no idea as to where he was taking you. Also, was it a date? A friend thing? Shit. You should’ve said no. You sighed. It was too late now.
Before running downstairs, you sprayed a little bit of perfume on the nape of your neck and your wrists. Chloé, your signature scent.
“I’m going out for a bit.”
She was sitting by the window with a hot beverage on her hands and a book on her lap. Like mother, like daughter.
“Last time you said that…”
“I know,” you cut her off gently. “But I have class tomorrow. I promise I won’t be long.”
“Is your phone charged, young lady?”
“Yep, it is.”
“Then call me if anything happens, alright?”
“Sure thing. Bye, mom,” you gave her a brief peck on the forehead and rushed out the door.
He was waiting for you at the porch, even more breathtaking now that you could see him up close. His musky scent was stronger and his pale skin was glowing. He was drinking you in with mysteriously piercing eyes.
“Come,” he said, taking you by the hand.
“Where are we going anyway?” you asked. As the both of you approached his motorcycle, you were trying your best not to trip.
“You’ll see.” He took a helmet off a compartment that you didn’t know to exist and cupped your face to hold you still before he put it on you.
“Is this like a Hitchcock movie? Will you take me just far enough so I can meet my fate by the end of the night?” A hint of dread crossed his features, but he composed himself soon enough.
“Do you believe in fate, Y/N?” He asked, fixing the straps under your chin, his fingers setting your skin aflame.
“I don’t know,” you couldn’t pinpoint exactly why, but his countenance urged you to provide a proper answer. “Faith is just not my strong suit, I guess,” you mumbled.
Yoongi pondered about what you said for a moment. “Hold that thought, yeah?” Then he climbed the vehicle. “Hop on,” he started the engine. You were now too aware of the fact that you had never ‘hopped on’ one of those. “Don’t worry, I’m a really good driver,” he tugged his lips upwards.
“I just… I’ve never done this.”
“What, ride a motorcycle?” He asked and you nodded. “Trust me. I wouldn’t let anything happen,” he reassured you.
I know. So you climbed the damn thing and held tight onto his waist, almost comforted by his warmth. He felt the sensitive skin on his back crawl at the contact. Especially between his shoulder blades.
||\\
You spent the entire ride with your eyes closed. If you had any doubt that Yoongi was a mad man, those god-knows-how-many minutes on the back of his motorcycle had erased them completely. He was going fast. You could feel the wind ricocheting your face relentlessly, and every time he had to make a turn, your stomach fluttered. Sometimes, he turned his head just a little bit, as if checking if you were at least breathing, but you would grit your teeth and snap at him to look ahead, tightening your grip. You could feel him chuckle, his whole upper body being assaulted by small tremors.
But when you finally arrived at your destination, it was all worth it.
“Do you like it?” Expectation washed all over his ethereal features.
“Do I… like it? It’s amazing,” your eyes sparkled with wonder and astonishment at the sight of the ocean. You were at a relatively high spot, like a small cliff, and you could smell the delicious salty breeze that you adored so much. But what truly amazed you, what really took your breath away, was the electric blue lights sparkling all over the wave crests. “Bioluminescence! How did you find this place? Can we go down?” You asked with the biggest smile, a childish excitement seeping through your tone. He giggled, the most magnificent, angelic sound you had ever heard.
“I’d rather if we didn’t. I don’t want you to meet your fate at those slippery rocks, it wouldn’t be very Hitchcock-y,” he joked. You felt a bit disappointed but chose to let it go. The night, the sea, the sky; it was all too beautiful for you to allow yourself to be petty.
He took a few steps ahead and sat closer to the edge, wind whisking his hair and making his catlike eyes narrow. You followed suit, sitting in lotus by his side. You both took a minute to appreciate the sight, falling into a comfortable silence, that was soon broken by his husky voice.
“I come here a lot when I need to remind myself of who I am. Of where I’m from,” he said, still looking at the waters below, eyebrows furrowed. “I never thought of bringing anyone else here before.”
“So why did you?” Your voice was small, whispered.
“I don’t know. I guess…” he stopped for a moment. “I possibly just wanted to make sure you were okay. And I don’t know any place else that feels more like home to me. Perhaps I also wanted to share it with you.” Then he turned his gaze to you, eyes reflecting the moonlight. He was divine, bewitching. Especially now, when he seemed to be opening up to you for the first time. You felt your heartbeat speed up at his confession.
“Thank you,” you said softly, diverting your gaze to the waves. “I can understand why you’re so fond of this place. It’s blissful, feels like heaven.”
He humms, fixing his gaze on the crashing waves above you.
“Y/N.” He was surveying your face now, as if trying to read you. Expectant.
“Yes?”
“Do you believe in heaven?” His voice is a whisper and, for a moment, you wonder if you’d heard him correctly.
That was probably the last question you’d expected from him, it took you completely by surprise. You inhaled deeply, searching for the right words, but ended up blurting what first came to mind.
“For all I know, heaven is here. Hell, too. I want to be better, yes, for the people I love. I want to be better for whoever needs me to be, because I know how tough this can get. If there’s an afterlife… at least I’ll know that I tried to be good for the right reasons. So yeah, let’s say I don’t dwell on it. Whatever happens, happens.”
By the time you finished talking, there was something sparkling deep inside his onyx eyes that you couldn’t recognize.
“That’s sort of refreshing,” and there it was again. The sheepish gummy smile you adored so much, so utterly genuine and divine you thought you’d die.
“What about you?”
“Yes. Heaven, Hell, the whole ordeal. Except for God.”
“But… How would it be possible for all those things to exist without God?”
“That is not what I said,” he let out a humorless little chuckle. “Let it suffice that God is… I believe, much too real. Just not how humankind paint him to be. I believe God exists; I just don’t believe in him. Not anymore.” His tone was raw and melancholic. You ached with the need to console him, because he seemed adrift; and that bothered you more than it should.
Without realizing, your face had gotten closer to his, and suddenly he was all over the place. All you could see, smell, hear, it was all him. He must have known, because then he traced your features lightly with his long, graceful fingers. You thought that was it. That was heaven.
You closed your eyes so you could savor every second of it, heartbeat going wild and butterflies assaulting your stomach. He lifted his other hand, and now he was cupping your face gingerly, like you were made of glass. Every touch ignited something foreign and glorious inside of you.
He shifted, moving closer, and his scent hit you, unyielding, but you didn’t dare to open your eyes. When his lips finally brushed against yours, it was enough to set something off, and your hands made their way to his neck on their own as you let out a shaky breath. You pressed yourself harder and sucked on his bottom lip, before caressing it with the tip of your tongue, earning a groan from him.
Well, shit.
He took the hair in the nape your neck in a dainty – yet firm – fistful, asking permission with his tongue to deepen the kiss. There was no denying him, you could never. His taste, God, you could spend eternity tasting every single bit of him. When he licked past your teeth, you moaned, and it was so utterly pleasing, sinful, that he felt compelled to go harder, mercilessly swirling his tongue inside your mouth. There was no room to breathe, the neediness for one another unbending.
You don’t know how much time you spent in that haze of mind-numbing desire, but neither of you dared to stop. Until your phone rang.
You jerked away, pupils blown wide from the intensity of the moment, skin flushed. You were both panting, eyes trained on each other, searching, scrutinizing, waiting for a reaction. His reddened, glistening lips were parted slightly and he seemed displeased to cut the moment short. Even so, he managed to talk.
“You should probably get that,” he gusted, trying to catch his breath. You couldn’t find it in yourself to do anything but nod.
You took the device out of your back pocket and checked the ID caller, brows furrowing. He mirrored your expression.
“Who is it?”
“It’s a girl from school. We have history class together. That’s… odd,” you said. You and Sarah have never had a real conversation, one that didn’t involve Napoleon or Julien Sorel. You just had her number saved because of a paper you had to do together a while ago. “Hello?”
“Y/N? Thank God,” she sounded truly relieved. “Look, I’m sorry to bother you but… We’re at the school’s gym and-“ she let out a loud gasp, and only then you noticed the noise in the background, an uproar of voices and… Did you did hear a punch?
“Sarah? What is it?”
“Tae’s here. Y/N, you should come…”
Your blood ran cold.
“What? Is he okay? Sarah, tell me what’s going on. Now,” you blurted, already standing, missing the way Yoongi’s face contorted in confusion and concern.
“We tried to stop them, we really did, I-“
“Sarah,” you grunted.
“Okay, yeah. Him and Ian are at each other’s throats right now, it’s pretty bad. Y/N, I don’t think it’ll be long before someone calls the cops. I just thought I’d let you know, ‘cause-“
“I’ll be there in a minute,” you cut her off, and then hang up.
You were a lot of things at that moment, but mostly worried and angry. You had told him not to, you had told him to let it go, and he went behind your back. You heart rate was through the roof, adrenaline rushing through your veins. But this time, it wasn’t out of passion.
“Y/N,” Yoongi had a wary look on his face. “Tell me.”
“Can you take me back? Tae’s in trouble.”
||\\
He hadn’t meant to. He really hadn’t meant to break his promise, but he knew it was bound to be broken the minute he made it. The idea of someone else touching you was torturous enough, but to think of them doing it without your consent actually drove him crazy with rage. Those unbidden images of you scared, asking that piece of shit to stop, only for him to hold you tighter, closer, wrapping his filthy hands around you… it wouldn’t stop coming to him, even though he’d tried his hardest to restrain them. It had haunted him ever since you told him. He felt sick. He hated himself for not being there for you, with you. Like the disgraceful best friend he was, he’d canceled movie night to get wasted. Ugly feelings, even the ones he didn’t care to admit, pierced their sharp claws at his chest. Guilt, exasperation, jealously.
He’d tried to suppress the bitterness from watching you with the new guy, he tried to be just glad that he was there and hold out against it, because if he wasn’t… The point is: he really tried. But the way you looked at him made Taehyung’s stomach sink. He’d never seen it before, and he craved it like a man in the desert did a single drop of water. He wanted to be on the receiving end of that gaze more than anything.
He’d go mad if he stayed inside, so he went out for a jog. Your mother had told him you weren’t home, and he figured you’d be at the coffee shop near school. What a big surprise it was when he found Ian next to a blue SUV that was parked near the gymnasium. He choked out a chuckle; it was just too tempting. Rage boiled trough his veins, and at that moment he knew he couldn’t hold back. He couldn’t not break that scumbag in half, even if that meant he’d be going against your wishes.
So he did. Every punch, given or taken, satisfied him little by little. Because he also deserved to be punished, he thought.
||\\
“What was that shit that you pulled? After I explicitly told you to stay out of it! Why now?”
Taehyung had a bloody nose, a deep cut just above his eyebrow and some pretty ugly purple spots all over his upper body, staining his previously pristine skin. When you and Yoongi had arrived at school, you discovered he’d been taken. By a police officer, nonetheless.
You’d been so mad. But now that he was in front of you, all screwed up in torn clothes, the speech you had prepared escaped your mind. You just couldn’t understand his impulsiveness, and the fact that he was in a tiny, smelly cell because of you was infuriating.
“We both knew it was bound to happen eventually, so I figured rather sooner than later,” he answered nonchalantly.
“Taehyung,” you said through gritted teeth
“What, Y/N?!” He snapped. “You wanted me to let him get away with it?”
“Yes! Yes, I literally told you that that’s what I wanted!”
“Well, too bad,” he darkly said. He knew he was in the wrong here. But he was just too riled up to think straight.
“Okay,” you said, taking a sharp intake of breath while running your fingers through your hair, “Okay, let’s be practical about this. Your dad is coming, right? We can talk about it at home.”
“Fine,” he said, avoiding your eyes.
“Fine,” you, too, knew how to be petty. “I’ve got to go outside for a minute. Behave,” your gaze flashed to an officer for a second, but quickly made its way back to Taehyung. When you realized he wouldn’t give you an answer, you just sighed and carried yourself out the door.
As soon as you stepped out of the threshold, you saw Yoongi leaning on his motorcycle, arms crossed and head hanging from his shoulders. You didn’t know what tonight had meant. You wanted to at least try to figure out if he felt the same as you did, but you had bigger problems. And to be honest, you’d rather sleep on it. It was all too intense and hazy.
“Hey,” you said, walking slowly towards him. He lifted his head and offered a tiny smile.
“Your boyfriend really hates my guts, doesn’t he?”
“He’s not-“ you cut yourself off when you realized he was just messing with you again. Of course he is, he stuck his tongue down your throat just an hour ago. “Anyways. I guess Tae will be out in a couple of hours, but I have to stay here and wait for Mr. Kim. Thank you for… tonight.”
He nodded. “No problem, George. I’ll call y-“
Suddenly, his eyebrows knitted together and his whole body tensed as he straightened himself. If you ever told anyone about this, you’d probably be admitted in a mental facility. But you swore that, for an instant, his eyes changed colors, going from pitch black to a deep violet. It happened in a heartbeat, and then he wasn’t looking at you anymore, but at something past your shoulder. You felt a chill run down your spine as you turned around to see what caught his attention.
A tall, broad-shouldered man was walking towards you. As his lean figure got closer, the tension grew almost palpable, and you could see from afar he had a small smile plastered on his plump lips. But it wasn’t comforting at all. Instead, it was vile, almost sadistic. Your head snapped to Yoongi again, and you saw how he didn’t move a muscle, fists closed tight and jaw clenched. That made you panic a little.
“Yoongi, what-“
“Y/N, go inside,” his voice was hoarse and restrained, like he hadn’t talked in weeks.
No, you wanted to say. That man, whoever he was, screamed bad news. He walked like a predator, and you felt like his prey. Though your self-preservation instincts were going wild with every step he took, something stronger made you want to stay. You knew he wasn’t here for you, but for him. And that sparked a need to protect him that you didn’t know to exist, nor where it came from. However, you just kept quiet and waited for the man to catch up, not missing the murderous aura emitted from Yoongi.
At last, he stood in front of you, reddish hair and twisted smirk still on his face. You could see him clearly now, and he was beautiful. The kind of beauty you’ve only seen once.
“Has anyone actually pressed charges this time, little brother?” His voice was deceivingly soft.
Brother?
“How did you find me?” Yoongi asked with an icy voice that almost made you shudder.
“Is that how you greet your elders? Father would not be pleased.”
“Well, you’re one to talk, aren’t you?”
“People are still hung up on that, I see,” the man chuckled. “Yoongi-ah,” he said, his feet taking him closer at a slower pace. Yoongi kept his ground, knuckles white from his balled-up fists, while you instinctively took a step back. That’s when they both seemed to acknowledge your presence. Yoongi’s eyes bulged slightly, his pale skin becoming ever paler, while the other wore an unreadable expression on his face.
“I told you to go inside,” he almost growled, taking your wrist in an iron grip and pulling you to stand behind his back. You didn’t understand. You didn’t understand any of it. Why did he seem so threatened by his own blood? The man was scary, sure, but was he actually dangerous? Your head was spinning, so you held onto his jacket to keep yourself vertical.
“Were you not planning on introducing me to your friend, baby brother? That’s just rude, you know how much I love meeting new people.”
“I’d advise you to be careful now, Jin.” The threat in Yoongi’s low voice was noticeable even to you, but Jin didn’t seem to mind. On the contrary, he relished on it. His little brother didn’t get all protective over just anyone, and the fact that he didn’t want the eldest to know about you pointed straight to a weak spot. One which he intended to take full advantage of.
“Easy, Prince, no need to get riled up,” Jin chuckled again, lifting both hands in a sign of peace. “What do you take me for?”
“Neither of us can deny your nature, can we, brother? It’s the reason why we’re here in the first place.”
“It’s true. Have you told her your name yet? Since you appear very comfortable sharing such details in front of her.”
“What are you doing here? I thought I had made myself clear the last time we saw each other,” Yoongi changed the subject, hoping you wouldn’t pay much attention to his question.
Jin’s face turned serious for the first time before he spoke. “They approached me, Yoongi-ah. It would seem that they need their Flam-“
“Quit it!” Yonngi growled. “Hold your tongue, I don’t want to hear any of it. You need to go.”
“Not until I have delivered my message.” The well-proportioned man stood his ground.
Yoongi took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He could not have this kind of conversation in front of you – in front of anyone, for that matter. Jin was breaking the rules; an old habit of his. “Then I need you to wait for me at home. I suppose you already know where I live, don’t you? I’ll meet you there soon.”
“Alright then. Y/N, it was splendid meeting you. I do hope I get to see you again soon.”
Yoongi scowled as he watched Jin turn on his heels and disappear in the night. For all he knew, Jin would never get this close to you ever again. He was caught off guard today. He then turned around, black orbs scrutinizing you for a reaction.
There were many things going through your mind at that exact moment. Too many questions, he could tell. You looked at him in a grimace of confusion and horror.
“How did he know my name?” That was the first thing that popped into your mind. You hadn’t said your name, neither did Yoongi. “And who’s ‘they’? And did he really just call you prince? Is that a pet name or something?” You blurted out, sensing you wouldn’t have too much time to elaborate the questions the way you wanted to.
He looked into your eyes, face contorted in what you could only describe as a desperate hesitation, brows furrowed and lips pressed into a fine line. He was pondering his options. You knew that because, when he made up his mind, you could clearly see the taint of resolution.
“I can’t answer your questions,” he muttered.
“Why not?”
“I’m really sorry, Y/N. Please, just forget about this. All of it.”
“What are you talking about?” you were on the brink of losing it at this point. First Taehyung, and now this. He wasn’t making any sense. But his eyes spoke to you in ways he couldn’t. Only then, you understood. “No,” you said with a resolution of your own. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Listen, it’s okay if you don’t want to tell me right away, whatever it is, just don-“
“Y/N.”
“Yes?!”
“Close your eyes.”
“Why?”
“Listen to me just this once,” he groaned, stepping into your personal space. He twisted your hair in one hand, holding your face securely to his. When he rested his forehead on yours, your eyes gave into his wishes, closing on their own. “I’ll be gone for a little while, George,” your breath hitched, but you didn’t interrupt him. He gave you a light peck on the mouth, lips soft and moist, breath hot on your face. “I have to settle some things straight. Be good for me while I’m gone, yeah? Don’t do anything stupid,” he frowned.
“Will you come back?” your voice almost cracked, ‘cause you weren’t so sure of his answer. You felt foolish. You’ve only known him for a short period of time, after all. But the intensity of your feelings, though you couldn’t discern them clearly yet, scared you.
This felt horribly like goodbye – it was, at least for now – and you hated it.
“Do you want me to?”
“Yes,” you answered straight away.
“Alright,” he nodded. “Then I will.”
You didn’t dare open your eyes when he stepped away from you after one last chaste peck on your lips, nor when you heard him start the engine of his Triumph. But when you felt a warm hand on your shoulder, you jolted slightly and your eyes fluttered open.
“Let’s get you inside, kid” Mr. Kim said softly, brushing away a lonesome tear from your cheek. “Then you can help me scold my boy for making us come all the way to the police station on a school day, how does that sound?” he tried to uplift your spirit, and you offered him a half-hearted smile.
||\\
“Which way I fly is hell; myself am hell;
And in the lowest deep a lower deep
Still threatening to devour me opens wide,
To which the hell I suffer seems a heaven.
Oh then at last relent: is there no place
Left for repentance, none for pardon left?”
It’d been four weeks since the last time you saw him. A whole month since he’d disappeared completely. At first, you waited anxiously for him to reappear out of nowhere. For him to just slide into the classroom, like he’d done the first time. But as time passed by and the third week came, you grew worried. He didn’t get specific about how much time it would take for him to do whatever it was, but you imagined it would be one, maybe two weeks. But now, a month later, you were beginning to wonder if he’d even come back at all. If something had happened, if he was okay…
No. He promised.
You’d rather not dwell on the possibility of something going wrong – hell, you didn’t even know what he was doing or what was that strange conversation he had with his deviant brother in front of the police station. You had a few theories, though. Not that you’d ever utter them out loud.
Number one: mafia. Maybe not The Godfather sort of thing, since that seemed pretty outdated, but rather… Scarface, perhaps? So you had come up with the idea of Jin being a druglord; nothing more, nothing less. It made sense, to be honest.
Number two: well, number two wasn’t exactly clear on your mind, but had something to do with super rich parents and an insane heritage. He could be the prince of an empire, right? You didn’t know anything about his family, except that his brother was blood-curdling.
You just wished to keep your head in the right place until he explained the situation to you. If he explained, that is. Sighing, you tried to contain your derailed thoughts and get back to the real world, where Taehyung needed you to pay attention to Mamma Mia! for the nth time.
“Alright, that’s it. You didn’t even sing along during S.O.S and that’s where I draw the line,” he said, taking the remote from your hand and pausing the movie. It was a cozy night and you were both plopped on the couch wearing socks and sweatpants.
“When have I ever sang along during S.O.S, Tae?”
“I remember it vividly, we were eleven. But that’s not the point,” he retorted. You bit your lip and kept your eyes trained on the frozen screen of the TV, already sensing where this was going. “You’ve been like this for a while now.”
“Like what?” you pushed, trying to feign innocence. You were not in the mood for this right now. You just wanted to stare unseeingly at the TV and have some private time with your own thoughts until the movie was over.
He sighed. “Look, I can only guess what’s going on,” he scowled, but tried to compose his features into a serene mask before speaking again. “But I need you to not be in your own head for a minute.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. I want to help,” he said, taking your hand in his. The touch was warm and familiar.
“I know, Marzipan,” another sigh. You took your hand from his carefully and got up. “I’m going to the store, you want something?”
“What, now? Y/N-“
“I just-, I need coffee and snacks if we’re pulling this off. If you want me to keep my eyes opened during Moulin Rouge, that is,” you pointed out matter-of-factly
Taehyung shifted in his seat, face contorted in confusion, wariness and a hint of hurt. “Do you want me to go with you? It’s late.”
“No, it’s fine. You can stay and plan ahead, I’m sure we’re not stopping at the next one.”
He watched you silently while you fumbled for your keys. When you found them, he muttered: “Don’t be too long.”
“I won’t.”
As soon as you crossed the threshold, the cold air of the night hit your skin, making you shiver slightly. You closed the door and hid your hands in the pockets of your sweater, bringing it closer to your body in a poor attempt to keep the warmth from escaping.
Walking towards the convenience store located a couple of blocks from your house, you let yourself get lost in headspace again. You knew you weren’t being fair to Taehyung. As much as you wanted to talk about this situation with him, you couldn’t. It felt like betraying someone who hadn’t even put their trust in you to begin with. Yes, it was unfair, and maybe you were being a shitty friend every time he tried to have a serious conversation about the subject and you brushed him off with an excuse, like getting coffee in the middle of the night.
You sighed, not really willing to wallow in guilt tonight, and just tried to focus on your immediate task. One step after the other, then one more, and you could already see the lights of a tiny single shop, the only one opened this late at night. It belonged to Mr. Newton, a sweet old baker who treated you kindly every time he was filling up for his cashier.
You entered the store and heard the little bell announce your arrival. Much to your surprise, Mr. Newton was working there that night. As he saw your expression of detachment, he frowned. So you tried to arrange your features in a polite smile before speaking.
“Hello, Mr. Newton.”
“Y/N, child, why are you wandering alone when it’s already this late?” he asked softly, though clearly concerned for your safety.
“Don’t worry, sir,” you answered, walking towards the cooler where they kept the iced coffee and taking two in one hand, as you went for the chips next. “Tae and I needed a little snack. Movie night.”
He nodded and you placed the items on the counter for him to scan.
“Well, then. Tell that kid to come by whenever he can. My wife wants to send some essential oils for Mr. Kim’s aromatherapy sessions,” just as he’d said it, he got a bit closer to you, as if the next words to come out of his mouth were a secret. “Truth is, she misses him. The boy is the only one who can stand her cooking.”
Despite being moody, you chuckled wholeheartedly. No one could be indifferent to Taehyung’s charms, it seemed.
“Yes, sir, I’ll tell him.”
As you went through your wallet to pay the old man, you heard the little bell once again. Mr. Newton greeted the new client, but you were too engrossed in finding the right bills to snap your head in the newcomer’s direction. However, the inquisitive sound that left the old man caused you to steal a glimpse, catching auburn hair and broad shoulders in their wake. You stood still for a moment, trying to recall why those locks seemed so familiar. Until it hit you.
“Jin?” you breathed, not loud enough for anyone in the store to actually hear you. Just as you muttered his name, he closed the door and turned left, disappearing from your sight. You gasped. “Keep the change, Mr. Newton!” you said – audibly, this time – leaving a ten dollar bill on the counter and grabbing your stuff as gracefully as you could muster, rushing to the door like your life depended on it.
“No running in the store, kid!” he tried to scold you, but could already feel the cool breeze as you opened the door and looked around, expecting to find his brother. Only this time around you weren’t scared, no. You wanted answers, heart beating fast at the possibility of hearing from Yoongi, maybe even seeing him… Okay, no, not the time for this, first things first.
When you realized he was nowhere to be found, you ran. Left. He went left. You passed by a few houses and almost tripped on a stray cat, turning your head to the side to check on it and apologizing profusely as you picked up your pace again. A few blocks later, you were already out of breath. You came to a halt and put both hands on your knees, gasping and feeling your lungs burn.
Trying to ease your labored breathing, you realized that you were probably going crazy. A halfhearted chuckle escaped your parted lips. You were disappointed, even if actually meeting the redhead meant trouble. Trying not to let frustration and melancholy get the best of you, you decided to just let it go and head back home. Even if it was Jin, he probably wouldn’t tell you anything anyway.
||\\
The snow under your feet was slippery as you got out of the library, leather backpack and navy-blue beanie on. You held a large cappuccino on one hand, careful not to spill it as you dodged passers-by and umbrellas every now and then. The streets were a little crowded that afternoon, and you were dying to get home and relish on Mrs. D’Angelis’ famous chicken noodle soup. Maybe she’d even grant you a warm glass of wine if you asked properly. You tried to occupy your mind with ordinary, day-to-day thoughts, trying to ignore the flutter on the pit pf your stomach.
During that entire week, you were constantly under the impression that something was off. When you were going to school with Taehyung, or grocery shopping for your mother, there was always that tingling feeling on the nape of your neck that told you that someone was watching. Then you’d turn around and nothing. No one was ever there. The uneasiness was uncomfortable, but you didn’t feel endangered, just really jittery. And your motto was: no better medicine for anxiety than tons of caffeine.
“Mom, I’m home!” you crooned, taking your coat off and discarding the empty thermal cup.
“In the kitchen, honey!”
The smell was splendid. You took a deep breath, already yearning for the hot meal, and kissed your mother on the cheek while she stirred… something.
“Uh, smells nice,” you praised, making your way to the fridge for a glass of water. “I’m shocked Tae hasn’t come knocking on our door yet. Maybe his flair is broken because of the flu.”
“Is Taehyungie sick, honey? Why didn’t you tell me?” she almost whined.
“It’s nothing, just a bit of phlegm. But I’ll take some of these,” you pointed to the pots, “for him and his dad later.”
“You really should. Now go upstairs and change before dinner.”
You mumbled a response and climbed the stairs to put on some good old band t-shirt and sweatpants. You didn’t notice the broad-shouldered frame behind the door, and as soon as you closed it behind you, you felt a cold hand covering your mouth, while the other held you in place by the waist. Your whole body tensed, eyes bulged and breath hitched. Fuck. You were prepared to let out a loud scream, but his whispered voice stopped you.
“It’s me, it’s me,” he shushed you. As a reflex, your muscles relaxed. “Gonna take my hand off your mouth now, George,” he informed, slowly moving his hand from your face.
Of course it was him. His smell was all over the place, his touch still left little electric jolts on your skin. You snapped your head and turned around to face him. You realized your memories could never do him justice. He was so heartbreakingly handsome, you could cry. Pale skin, shiny disheveled raven hair. You noticed the circles under his eyes were darker and he seemed exhausted. Regardless, when your eyes fell on his lips, your body reacted before your mind could.
Your hands made their way to the nape of his neck, caressing and gently pulling his hair. At the same time, you clasped your lips together on a desperate kiss. His surprise didn’t stop him from matching your frenzy, grunting as he sucked your upper lip and asked permission with his tongue, one that you promptly granted. Henceforth, your tongues performed an erotic, lewd dance as they fought for dominance, swirling and exploring each other’s mouths.
Only when the back of your knees touched the bed did you realize he was moving you towards it. He broke the kiss for a moment to mercilessly throw you on the soft duvet, and you let out a surprised moan when he immediately covered your body with his, mouth returning to yours. A primal need surged from within you when you felt one of his hands roaming at your side lustfully, gabbing tight on your ribcage, your waist, your hip. He hoisted your leg and you hooked it around him, holding back a loud moan when he pressed his erection to your groin. You could feel your panties drenching from the sudden contact, a new wave of desire making your core ache.
“Y/N-“ he tried to speak through heavy breathing, his lips never leaving yours long enough for him to finish a sentence. “Baby,” he groaned, obviously trying to say something, but you weren’t ready yet. You rocked your hips against him, earning another lecherous noise from his rosy lips as he closed his eyes shut.
You used that moment of weakness to knock him to his side, climbing on top of him as you clamped your thighs harder on his hips. His eyes went dark at the sight, a devilish smirk tainting his beautiful features. You didn’t give him time to say anything, taking his lips on another bruising kiss. His hands on your ass, squeezing and groping, and you felt him throb inside his pants. You moaned, a gush of wetness coming out as you clenched around nothing. You couldn’t form coherent thoughts anymore, pressing yourself harder against his bulge as you rolled your hips, searching blindly and desperately for a sweet release that was already so close…
“Hold it, baby.” His voice was stern, and he pinned both your wrists on your back, his hands seeming incredibly big when closed around them. He was sitting now, hot, labored breath hitting your lips, heightening your senses and sending shivers down your spine. You crumbled under his dominant demeanor, feeling an inconceivable need to obey, and instantly stood still. It surprised him as much as it did you, and you saw a smug grin plaster itself on his face. “That’s it. Be good for me so I don’t lose my mind.”
You let out a breath you didn’t know to be holding and weakly nodded, mind still clouded with want. He let go of your wrists and gently pecked your lips, sitting you down on the bed instead of his lap. Father knows he would be physically uncapable of having a proper train of thought if he didn’t.
“So… I guess we have a lot to discuss first, don’t we?” his smile was sheepish now, hands going through his hair in a nervous tick.
“Yes,” you breathed out. “What happened? I was so worried, Yoongi, you have no idea. I didn’t even know where you were or what the hell you were up to, I-“ you took a moment in order to stabilize your voice. You knew you were affected by his sudden absence, you just didn’t know how much until now that he was actually in front of you. “I don’t even know what the worst case scenario could be, but I bet my thoughts came pretty close,” you chuckled humorlessly.
“I’m sorry, I never meant to worry you. If I knew I’d be gone for that long, I would’ve told you before I left. I missed you so much,” he confessed, voice lower than before, and rested his forehead on your own.
“Tell me. Please, I need to know,” your brows furrowed.
“I met my brothers,” he paused, waiting for a reaction that never came. It’s not that you were not surprised by the information that he had other siblings, you just wanted him to finish it before you spoke. “Jin aside, I spent… years apart from my family. You could say that we didn’t leave things on the best of terms when I left father’s, so it was a surprise for me when I learned that they wanted to talk. Notwithstanding that it’s out of need, not love.” His heavenly features contorted in hurt and resentment, and you felt you own heart clench. You gave him an eskimo kiss as a sign of reassurance and he smiled timidly. “They offered to take me back. It’s… certainly a grand gesture for the likes of us,” he shook his head slightly and knitted his brows.
“Isn’t that a good thing? Don’t you miss them?” you didn’t know why your voice was so small.
“Not anymore, no.” His gaze was intense and made your heart beat impossibly faster. “I do miss them. They used to be my whole existence, the reason for every breath of mine. But now… now everything’s changed.”
“What’s changed?”
“You.”
Your breath hitched. If it was anyone else, if it was any other situation, you’d laugh at the cheesy line. But this was him, and that, too, changed everything. That one word was enough to unleash butterflies in your stomach, enough of them to knock you breathless. The truth behind his statement carried a heavy meaning, one that you yearned for and that made you giddy. His onyx orbs were wary, and you wondered if he was blind to the utter relief plastered on your face. It was selfish, but you couldn’t help it. Not when it came to him.
“H-How come?”
He chuckled. “Don’t get bashful on me now, George, I’m pretty sure you understand.”
You tried to scowl, but the grin was insistent on your lips. “Alright, let’s put a pin on that. You still haven’t told me everything. What did your brothers want?”
“Y/N, there are certain things about me and my family that I cannot tell you. It wouldn’t be safe.”
“You don’t trust me?” you were mainly curious, but a hint of hurt could be heard, too.
“That’s not it. It just wouldn’t be safe for you.”
“Is your family involved in something… illegal? Is that why?”
“Not illegal, no,” he chuckled.
“Then I don’t understand.”
“I know. But please, George, don’t be stubborn about this one. All I’m asking for is a leap of faith,” his eyes were pleading as they bore into yours. Was he aware that he could probably convince you that the sky was neon green if he looked at you like that?
“It’s a big leap,” you mumbled.
“I know. Just trust that I have good reasons,” he smiled softly.
You sighed. “Fine, Romeo, keep your secrets. Just tell me if you get too deep into whatever it is that the Min’s are hiding. I care about your safety just as much as you care about mine.” You forced the heat back, secretly hoping that it did not reach your face in time for you to actually blush.
“Doubt it,” he grinned. “Dinner is ready, Mrs. D’Angelis will be coming for you soon. I should get going.”
Your face paled as you rushed to the wardrobe, retrieving some clean clothes from your drawer. “Wait,” you stopped on your tracks in the middle of the room, glaring at Yoongi through narrowed eyes. “How do you know that?”
“I have my ways,” he shrugged, then tugged his lips upwards on a daring smirk. “It’s a secret.”
“If you keep giving me clues I might just figure it out. Go on.”
He chuckled and stood up from the bed, walking languidly in your direction. He touched your nose with the tip of his index finger, tracing it’s way all up to your forehead, then coming down to your jaw, where he grabbed firmly. His lips were smooth and slightly damped as they softly touched yours in a chaste kiss. A ragged sigh of pure bliss escaped you, and you tried to fight the haziness.
“Bye, George,” he was still lingering when he spoke. As he broke the contact and turned to the window, you woke up from the trance.
“Stay,” you breathed out. He looked at you with a hint of confusion. “I-I mean, you can stay if you want. I can bring you some of mom’s soup and we can eat it here. But you don’t have to, if you’re bus-“
“Okay,” he deadpanned.
“Okay. Yeah, uhm… I’ll go change in the bathroom, you can make yourself comfortable.”
“Already am,” he said as he threw himself on the bed, bouncing a little. His countenance was amused and he eyed you intently, toying with the elephant plushie.
“Of course you are,” you snorted, carrying yourself to the bathroom.
That night, you both relished on your mother’s cooking while watching some old movie about Cole Porter on your laptop. You were sure that it wasn’t his cup of tea, but he payed attention to it nonetheless. After you were done, you offered to take the dishes downstairs, since your mother would probably have a stroke if she knew there was a boy in your room. You stopped by Taehyung’s to check on him and offer his favorite hot meal, but it didn’t take more than five minutes. You were on a hurry, and he knew better than to question it.
Back upstairs, you and Yoongi curled up under the covers and tried to find something interesting enough to watch for what seemed to be ages, your head resting on his chest and his hands holding you securely by the waist. It wasn’t long until you fell asleep, and only then did he leave, pecking your forehead gently before jumping out the window.
||\\
“Get in.”
“No,” you tried to end the discussion then and there. As expected, you failed.
“Y/N, you can’t go back on pinky promise. You should’ve thought this through.” His goal was to sound stern, but in reality you could see the hint of a pout on his lips. “It’s my birthday.” Okay, there it was. That was definitely a pout.
“No,” you closed your eyes shut and facepalmed – for good measure. “Don’t give me those eyes, I’m not looking,” the sound was muffled by your hands.
He wrapped his incredibly large fingers around your wrists and whined: “Come on, we’re already here. What’s the worst that could happen?”
“Why on earth would you say that?” you instantly took your hands from your face and shot him a glare. He had the nerve to chuckle.
“You can’t possibly expect me to do this alone.”
“You can’t possibly expect me to do this at all,” you retorted, kicking the snow piled up near the curb, shunning away from his puppy dog eyes.
“You promised you would! I’ll do it, Marzipan. If you win this round, I’ll get a tattoo with you as a birthday present,” his voice was high pitched.
You snorted. “I was out of it, mental faculties completely fried. Drunk on power and merlot. Plus, I’m pretty sure you cheated, you could never beat me at Mario Kart,” you grumbled.
“I did not cheat,” he was outraged. “I’m a lawful man, I abide by the rules, and they are clear: a bet is a bet.”
You honestly have no idea why you let him talk you into this. Perhaps because you’ve been feeling guilty lately, and therefore didn’t have the heart to turn him down when he broke into your room to collect his victory this morning. It’s a good present, right? To get tattoos with your best friend? He had been trying to convince you since three birthdays ago. You hoped it would be enough to ease a bit of the weight on your chest.
Truth is, you had been spending too much time with Yoongi these past few weeks. After what happened when he showed his face again, it became routine that he came by almost every night when your mom fell asleep. You’d talk, watch movies, kiss… But what you enjoyed the most were those moments where you curled up in his embrace, face buried in the crook of his neck, and neither of you would say a word. You’ve always appreciated peaceful silence, but those moments were so much more. You felt truly connected to him, in a way you’d never felt with anyone else. Like you were both pieces of the same puzzle, cheesy lines aside.
Or when he would be the one to rest his head on your chest, blinking lazily as you twisted his silky, raven locks in your fingers. Perhaps those were truly your favorites, as you felt the incontrollable urge – need – to be protective of him, to never let anything disturb his serene, almost childlike countenance, so bare before you in the night’s veil. Before the sun came up and brought back the little wrinkle between his eyebrows.
During the day, you often returned to his safe haven – one that ultimately became yours, too. The waves breaking against the rocks, the salty breeze, the deep blue of the ocean, you had gotten acquainted to it all in a heartbeat. On occasion, you’d bring warm, fuzzy blankets, hot cocoa and books, spending an entire afternoon on your own personal eden.
You never meant for any of it to get in the way of your friendship with Taehyung, but counterbalancing proved to be harder than you first thought. Although you may have gotten too caught up, inevitably distancing yourself a bit, you were now eager to make it up to him. He was like family, after all. So here you were.
“Fine, have it your way. But I’m telling mom that you put me up to this,” you threatened. The snow under your boots making a crunchy noise while you crossed the street to get to the tattoo parlor.
“She won’t believe you. I’m a saint. I’m her Taehyungie.” He was beaming.
As soon as you got in, you saw a man sitting behind the counter. He was buff, and you’d bet that pretty much his whole body was covered in piercings and tattoos – mostly about dragons and snakes. Looks aside, his voice was warm and welcoming when he greeted you.
“Welcome, kids. My name is Eli, how may I help you today?”
All the drawings and pictures on the walls seemed to have detained Taehyung’s attention, so you plastered a polite smile on your face before answering.
“Hi. My friend over here came to get a tattoo,” you pointed at the boy beside you and he scowled.
“We both did,” he smiled at the receptionist.
“Alright. You have to sign a couple of forms before we get into details. You’re both legal, right?” the receptionist asked and you nodded. “Peach. Just a second,” he turned his attention to the computer in front of him, taking a couple of papers from the printer soon after. He handled you each a consent form. Before you signed yours, you exchanged a look with Taehyung, almost having a whole conversation – bickering – with him through knowing looks.
“Here you go,” Taehyung handed the papers to Eli.
“Cool. Do you guys have something in mind? We have a few drafts you can check out. But if you already know what you want, Hyunjin can draw it when you get inside. Don’t worry, he’s good.”
“I have something in mind,” Taehyung offered a bright boxy smile. “I guess I’ll just explain it to him, then.”
“Great,” Eli turned his eyes to you, realizing that you definitely had not made up your mind just yet. “If that’s the case, I’ll let him know that you’re going in,” he said to Taehyung, who nodded in response. When the buffy man went to the back, he glared at you through narrowed eyes.
“I’ll come back with permanent ink on my skin. You better not chicken out by the time I’m done,” he threatened.
“Hope you don’t regret it within the year,” you taunted.
“I won’t,” he snorted.
Eli returned a second later, excusing himself to lead Taehyung to the tattoo artist. In the meantime, you picked a binder that was resting on top of the counter to take a look at the drawings he’d mentioned, hoping to find something you’d actually like – or at least an inspiration. Most of them were very intricate, and although they were beautiful, you wanted something simple. Less is more when you’re tainting your skin for life because of a bet.
You were turning the pages with such disinterest that you almost missed it. It seemed unfinished, just a sketch, and you couldn’t quite pinpoint the reason as to why it caught your attention in the first place. It was a dragon intertwined in a circle, it’s countenance exuding fierceness and strength. Inside the circle, however, was just an unembellished arrangement of lines, one that was strangely familiar and alluring. 9-7-1-12-6, if you think about a clock.
“Oh, I see you’ve found Lee’s work. What do you think?” Eli pulled you out of your headspace.
“Uhm… Yeah, he’s great. His drawings are pretty authentic.”
“Uh huh, he’s been working on those for a while now. So, do you have any idea what you’re gonna get yet?”
“Not really. I mean, I liked this one,” you pointed to the page you were previously analyzing. “Do you know if it means anything in particular?”
“Yes! Actually, it does, but I can’t really remember what. I think it’s a sigil, though. You know, one of those thingies people believe to be magical.”
“Mhm.” You really didn’t know why you felt the need to purge those next words, but you were saying them before you could stop yourself. “This is it.”
“What? You’re gonna tattoo that?” Without even knowing what it means?
“Yes. I liked the dragon.”
||\\
His lips were soft against your collarbone, leaving a trail of goosebumps on their wake when he moved them lazily to your jawline, wet little kisses making you squirm and sigh. His index finger was tracing patterns on your bare thigh, caressing and examining as if he’d never done it before, as if you were a made of glass. The sun had graced you with its appearance for the first time in weeks, and you wanted to enjoy the good weather as much as possible, so you had convinced Yoongi to lay on the grass by your side.
“Tired of Miss Brontë already, love?” his velvety voice evinced his amusement.
“Can’t read. You’re distracting me.”
He chuckled lightly, delivering small puffs of air on the crook of your neck, and raised his head just enough to look at you, blocking the sunlight and making it possible for you open your eyes. Before he’d made his mission to disturb your concentration, you were reading for him, like people do with kids before they go to bed. It became a thing after the first time you did it, and now he picked a different book every week or so. When you’d asked about it, he just shrugged and declared that ‘It’s just nice. I like hearing you.’ This week, it was Wuthering Heights.
“Continue, please,” he adjured, laying his head on your chest as a demonstration of good will. You grabbed the book you’d previously set aside and opened it, leaving one hand free to play with his locks.
“That, however, which you may suppose the most potent to arrest my imagination, is actually the least, for what is not connected with her to me? and what does not recall her? I cannot look down to this floor, but her features are shaped on the flags. In every cloud, in every tree—filling the air at night, and caught by glimpses in every object by day, I am surrounded with her image. The most ordinary faces of men and women—my own features—mock me with a resemblance. The entire world is a dreadful collection of memoranda that she did exist, and that I have lost her.”
His eyes were no longer closed, he was gazing at you.
“Do you pity him?” he suddenly asked.
“Heathcliff? I don’t.”
He nodded slowly. “So, you think there’s no redemption, then?”
“Not for him. He lived and died as an antagonist. Some might think his cruelty is just an expression of his frustrated love for Catherine, or that he conceals at least some virtue, a romantic heart. They expect him to be anything but what he constantly proves to be, they expect misunderstood heroes. But he himself acknowledges his sadistic nature.”
He stood still, seeming to be lost in thoughts while tracing invisible patterns on your shoulder and refusing to meet your eyes.
“Would you be able to love someone as tainted as him?” he asked wistfully.
You lifted your upper body, compelling him to a sitting position as well.
“I’ve never had to,” you pecked his lips chastely, even though he still kept his eyes trained on the grass underneath you. “Hey,” you dig your nails gently on the nape of his neck, asking for his attention. When he raised his head, the wrinkle between his eyebrows was there again. It worried you that, since he’s been back, it’s been a constant feature of his. Every now and then, his face twisted into an inscrutable grimace. “You understand, don’t you?”
A half-hearted nod was your response, and he built up the mask to conceal his discomfort once again.
“Enough vitamin D for you? I can’t stand the heat,” he grumbled.
“Yeah,” you chuckled, pressing your lips to his forehead and standing up, stretching a helping hand. “Where do you want to go?”
“My place.”
Which was code for: Your mom is home and I want to pass out on my bed nuzzling you.
“Whatever you want, grandpa.”
“Be a brat and I’ll hit the throttle,” he threatened, positioning himself on top of his Triumph. Sometimes he took full advantage of just how dreadful you found his two-wheeled vehicle. And it always worked. You snorted, climbing on the back seat and wrapping your arms around him. “Hold tight, George.” His warning was delivered with amusement, but you knew better than to take it lightly.
The fifteen-minute trip went as smoothly as it could, and even though you’d made sure to keep your eyes closed, you still felt dizzy and light-headed when he parked into the old building’s garage. He sensed your distress and got off the motorcycle slowly, careful when untangling you’re your arms from his waist and never completely breaking physical contact.
“Open your eyes,” he murmured, one hand on the small of your back and the other placed on your hip. You took a deep breath and your eyelids tentatively fluttered. His lips brushed your right cheek as he effortlessly lifted you and put you down on the floor, covering the entirety of your hand with his and making a beeline for the elevator.
Yoongi’s apartment was on the fourth floor, which happened to be the last one – the building was a small, fading-yellow rectangle in the middle of a quiet neighborhood. In a way, it suited him. Secluded and discreet. Perfect for a misanthrope such as himself, given that you’d never even bumped into one of his neighbors – and you’d been visiting quite regularly. On another note, however, it was uncannily unpretentious for someone like him.
He stopped for a moment on the front door, fumbling for the keys in his pocket. As soon as he opened it, you made your way to the couch, crashing with a sigh, face buried in the cushion. A minute had passed before he plopped on top of you, compelling a puff of air out of your lungs. You grumbled something about manslaughter, but the sound was muffled. He ignored you, making himself comfortable by nuzzling your neck and taking off his shoes using only his feet. You chuckled, making an effort to turn on your back so you could catch a breath.
“Sleepy?” you asked, running your fingers through his hair. He hummed a response, content with your ministrations. “I, uh… have something to show you.”
He raised his head from your throat, eyeing you curiously. “What is it?”
“Bedroom,” you commanded.
“Oh, I see,” he taunted, but stood up nonetheless. You rolled your eyes.
You guided him to his room and closed the door behind you. He leisurely sat on the bed, waiting cautiously for you to proceed. You sucked in a deep breath, growing doubtful under his gaze. Pushing all insecurities aside, you unzipped your shorts.
“Y/N, what are you doing?” he warned in a low-pitched, deep voice, orbs darkening considerably. You dismissed it, tiptoeing closer to him. He straightened his back and raised his eyes to meet yours, searching for any indication of what you intended to do. You pushed the waistband down, letting the piece of clothing pool on the floor, but he didn’t flinch, attention still focused on your features. When you hooked one finger on the hem of your white panties, he quickly snatched your wrist on a tight grip, brows knitting together. “I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with, baby. You know that, right?”
Your chest swelled with warmth and affection. After the night he came back, things heated up a couple of times. Once he’d realized how tense and anxious you got at first, he began to hold back, withstanding your advances. You never verbalized anything, but he had a hunch, and pressuring you was definitely not on his to-do list. He was being respectful and caring, and although you shouldn’t accept nothing less, it made you feel safe. He made you feel safe, always.
“Let me show you,” you murmured, a soft smile blooming on your face. He seemed puzzled, but ended up nodding warily. When you moved your finger, slightly pushing the fabric down to expose your hip, he finally had the guts to jeopardize his restraint and look down. You didn’t know what you expected his reaction to be, but that certainly wasn’t it.
His breath hitched and he paled, eyes almost bulging out of their sockets. He didn’t move a single muscle, whole body tensing up. It was as if he couldn’t fully comprehend the sight before him, like he couldn’t believe. He composed himself soon enough, but you could still see the glint of shock in his eyes. It didn’t make any sense.
“When did you get that?” his voice came out flat and a few octaves lower than usual.
“A couple of weeks ago,” you frowned. The tattoo that marked your hip was now almost fully healed. You were doubtful in the beginning, but now you kind of grew fond of it. “What’s wrong?”
“Do you know…” he cleared his throat, fingers twitching. “Do you know what it means?”
“Not exactly,” you confessed sheepishly. “The tattoo artist said it was a religious symbol and… Truth be told, I’m not even sure why I did this. Just felt right,” you mumbled, realizing then that you probably sounded a tad out of it. You held your lip between your teeth, unsettled.
“Yes. It’s the sigil of one of the seven archangels, love. It’s… Michael’s… sigil,” his jaw clenched, but his tone was now softer. “It’s used to invoke strength and protection. The ancients believed that, if you will it enough, he will be able to hear your prayers and, perhaps, be of assistance,” he laid his hand flat on your skin, stroking the symbol with his thumb, oblivious to the little jolts of electricity the simple gesture sent through your body. An unfamiliar mixture of dejection, despair and awe flashed through his onyx eyes, and you wondered what it was that he wasn’t telling you that could’ve possibly elicited such reaction.
“How do you know all that?” you wanted him to focus on something other than whatever it was that poisoned his thoughts.
“Father taught me,” he shrugged.
It’d been a while since he last mentioned his family. But you knew he was thinking about them whenever you saw the accentuated wrinkle every time he furrowed his brows, or when his muscles felt so tense to the touch that he was akin to marble against your skin. He was worried, he had been for a while now. And it scared you. You needed to know.
“Yoongi…” the uncertainty that laced your tone made him squeeze your flesh encouragingly. “Where is he? Your dad.”
“Home,” he stated tersely.
“I know, but… Where is home? And what about your brothers? I know you said you don’t speak to them anymore, you just never explained why.”
“We’ve already talked about this. They’re home, too. Y/N, just forget it,” he shook his head, avoiding your gaze.
“Why do you build this wall between us every time? It’s frustrating. I can help-“
“You can’t,” he deadpanned, breaking off any contact when he got up, making his way to the door. His demeanor screamed for you to back off, that he had no interest in continuing the conversation. But you were done being left in the dark.
“Why is it so hard for you to trust me, huh?”
“I already told you that it’s not a trust issue,” he raised his voice. “Why can’t you accept that I don’t want you to get caught up in the middle of my mess?”
“Well, I am caught up in the middle of your mess!” you roared. “You were gone for an entire month and have been on edge ever since you got back. Something’s going on, I’m not stupid.”
“Jesus Christ, Y/N,” a deep growl escaped his throat. “It’s none of your business, if we’re being honest here. They’re my problems, I’m the only one who can fix them – hell, not even that.”
“If you could stop being such a jerk for a second, you’d realize that they became my problems, too, as soon as I fell in love with you. But you’re so far up your own ass that we can’t even discuss things without yelling at each other,” you spit the words. “Do you know what it’s like for me to watch you struggle like you’ve got the whole world on your shoulders? Especially when my hands are tied,” you stepped closer to his figure, heart hammering on your chest after your little speech. It was nothing but a whisper when you said, “You’re not alone, you idiot.”
His whole expression softened, and you could recognize a faint smile on his velvety lips. Taking a deep breath, he closed the distance between the both of you and let his hand rest on the column of your neck.
“I am an idiot,” he nodded, visibly calmer. “And you’re stubborn, you know that?”
“Might have heard something about it,” you grumbled.
He hummed. “Forgive me. Could you?”
“Maybe. Will you… I mean, I just wish you’d open up a little. I’m scared, Yoongi,” you confessed.
“Me, too.”
“I know. That’s why.”
He shook his head and lowered it until his skin touched yours. “I’m scared of your reaction, baby. I don’t know if you’ll want me once you discover the truth,” he murmured, more to himself than to you.
“I’d say you’re safe. Unless your family is trying to coerce you into becoming a real life Michael Corleone. You didn’t shoot anyone in the head, did you?”
He chuckled wholeheartedly and took a step back to maintain eye contact and mock you properly. “That’s your theory? That I’m a mobster?”
You looked down sheepishly, before answering nonchalantly in a small voice, “One of them.” He couldn’t help himself, even though his hand was pressed tight against his mouth and his eyes were glistening with unshed tears of amusement. He tittered.
“May I know the others?”
“No,” you glared.
“Oh, George, what if I ask nicely? What if I say please?”
“Not even then.”
“How about pretty please?” You shook your head, trying to pass through him to get to the kitchen, but he encircled his arms around you from behind before you could grasp the knob. “And what if I tell you that I am, too?” he breathed in the shell of your ear and you held your breath for a second. You didn’t need him to vocalize what you already knew, but you felt butterflies fluttering anyways. Still, you kept your ground, suddenly very conscious of the fact that your shorts were still pooled on the floor near the bed.
“Closer, goodfella. But not enou-“
The loud bangs on the front door cut you midsentence. You felt Yoongi’s body stiffen before something that sounded terribly similar to a low growl broke out of his throat.
“Get dressed and stay here,” he ordered, authoritative. He didn’t spare you a glance before exiting the bedroom, and you felt a dreadful feeling claw up your insides, piercing your gut and making you nauseous. Pulse thrumming viciously under your skin, you fetched your shorts and wiggled it up, fastening the belt with shaky hands. Stop overreacting, you told yourself over and over, growing more anxious by the second. You couldn’t understand why, to be honest.
Taking deep breaths, you forced your fidgety fingers to stay still as you fell limp on the soft mattress, eyes closed. Your mind wandered to the safe haven: cotton clouds and baby blue sky, the smell of the grass, the books scattered around you and him. For a minute, you could truly take the edge off. Until you heard the noise of glass shattering on the wall.
Getting off the bed as fast as you could, your head spun. You opened the door quietly, careful not to expose the presence of another person in the house, and made a beeline to the kitchen. While you looked franticly for something that could be useful as a weapon, you tried to stay attentive to the sounds. They were muffled, but you could discern at least two voices, apart from Yoongi’s.
Alright. Great.
As any sane person who’s watched more than a few movies would do, you went for the most obvious choice. Knives. Better safe than sorry.
Almost counting your steps, you tiptoed your way to the living room. The voices were not very loud, but you could easily understand what was being said now that you were closer.
“It’s imperative that you return with us now,” a dulcet, almost high-pitched voice uttered softly. “I am sure you are aware of your responsibilities. It’s time.”
You stayed hidden behind the icy-white wall that separated the two rooms, gripping the hilt of the knife so tightly that your knuckles turned white. Maybe you shouldn’t be eavesdropping, that was clearly a family matter. Maybe you should lock yourself in Yoongi’s bedroom and do as he said. But the truth was that you were far too curious – and now far too enchanted by the childlike voice – to stop yourself from prying.
“I believe you have already forgotten about the current state of affairs, then? Father exempted me from my duties as soon as he banished me from the Gates and sent me to exile,” Yoongi spit. You could see it clearly in your head as he ran his fingers through his hair in annoyance. He sounded… different. You didn’t have the courage to tilt your head and steal a glance, afraid they’d catch the motion.
“Father warned you about the consequences of your stubbornness, Michael, but you were very much unyielding in your misconceptions,” the second person said, gruffy and curt.
“It is not a misconception to care for our own flesh and blood.”
Wait. Michael? Had he been listening to your conversation earlier? If the man wasn’t so deadly serious and the air so dense, you would’ve laughed – although you felt that it was probably not the right time to let out a full-throated guffaw to mask an anxiety attack.
“Our own flesh and blood abused his role as a persecutor and bent the rules for his own selfish purposes. Azrael is fortunate if Father ever forgives him, albeit we both know he will. Brother, I know you hold the highest regards for truth and justice, but it was not your place to question an order.”
You could hear the crude man pacing around the room as he spoke. Hoping to stay unnoticed, you sneaked a peek. The first person you landed eyes on was not at all taller than you, and you supposed that was the first man you’d heard. His hair was silvery, almost platinum blonde, styled in a way that evinced his beautiful forehead. The way he carried himself was elegant and graceful, like a ballerina, and his appearance suited his youthful voice perfectly. The second figure to catch your eye, though, was the complete opposite. Tall, lustrous olive skin and brown hair, he was intimidating at first glance. His steps were heavy on the floor, nearly clumsy.
“Perhaps there lies the problem. We are never to question, even whilst we deem fit. Azrael is the embodiment of corruption and amorality; it’s consensual, we are well aware. No matter how devious, he is needed. Casting one of the Seven out ought to never be an option. Be that as it may… There are only five of us within the Gates now. Was I supposed to receive graciously the task of exiling our own brother?”
You were growing considerably annoyed by their choice of words. Why the hell would they be talking like your great-grandparents? All cells in your body were telling you that it was supposed to be cringey, but in reality it was nothing but alluring. Charming. And that’s where all the annoyance came from.
“It is unwise to go against His instructions. Are you a rebel at heart, Prince?” The man stopped his pacing to let the words tumble out of his mouth, venomous. You could tell by Yoongi’s countenance that he was about to lose his composure, and in a way you were yet to see. His body were trembling slightly in fury, and his lips were compressed together in a well-defined line. You were astounded, however, by his eyes. In that moment, you couldn’t move even if you intended to. They were tinted in a deep violet, just like you had seen before at Jin’s encounter, except that, this time, they hadn’t gone back to black.
“This has nothing to do with the Rebellion, Raph-“
“Then why disobey? Do you plan to defy Father as well? It would be entertaining to watch you fight your antithesis for the throne of the underworld,” he chuckled.
It all happened in an instant, but for you it felt like slow motion. Yoongi was convulsing within himself, as if attempting to refrain a great deal of energy from breaking free. Once you saw blood oozing from his closed fists, you knew it was a lost battle. But never, ever, could you have foreseen what came next, what kind of energy – power – exactly he was trying to repress. For a very brief moment, everything stood still. If you had been able to avert your eyes from him, you’d see the silvery-hair figure shudder. You’d see the faint smirk on the lips of the man who caused Yoongi’s outburst, even though he was, deep down, a tad terrified. But you did not have time, nor will-power, to pay attention to anyone but him, ablaze amethysts shooting daggers at the man before them.
Then everything came crashing down. Your beliefs, the world as you knew it, it was all taken away ruthless and abruptly once you saw white feathers rip through black shirt. You gasped audibly, falling to the floor with a dull thud as the knife clinked at your feet. None of them noticed, too entranced by the interaction that unrevealed itself. Yoongi got to his prey at an unhuman speed, grabbing him by the throat and caging him against the door. The horrid sound was enough to make you wince through your stupor, and, if it were anybody else, their skull would have cracked. The man, however, only clenched his jaw to suppress a whimper.
“How dare you speak ill of your Leader like this?” as his voice went down a few octaves, Yoongi’s hold tightened visibly. The man-child seemed as ready to meddle as he would ever be, though still too frightened to actually move. “How dare you, brother, mention the Chief of the Heavenlies in the same breath as his nemesis? Mere one hundred and fifty years, Raphael, and you already built the temerity of being impertinent towards me? Or have you simply forgotten who I am?” his wings were whooshing, as if he was preparing to – quite literally – take flight at any given moment. They were stupendous, bigger than he himself, and so snowy-white, so untainted. Truly immaculate, contrasting with his raven hair.
His angelic features, albeit glorious, could never outstand the magisterial way to which he spoke, imposing authority. Like he was born for it. Everything about him in that moment urged you to bow before his feet, and you weren’t even the one holding his darkened glare. It was entirely alien to you, a facet of him you could barely conceive, let alone process. Raphael undoubtedly recoiled at his words, but tried to conceal it.
“Then show me. Do your title justice and lead us to victory, as I know there is no wrath nor passion greater than yours. Not for a moment have I forgotten who you are, Flaming Warrior, but you certainly have.” Raphael spoke, and it fell to the ears like a prayer.
As Yoongi’s wings retracted once again, you breathed what seemed to be the first intake of air in hours. He slackened his grip on Raphael’s throat, who then bent over in a fit of coughing. The boyish man’s shoulders visibly relaxed, and he let out a sigh. Of course, the little truce was bound to be broken the minute one of them laid eyes on you. It happened to be the blonde.
“Michael, there is a human on your floor,” he whispered, resembling a kid more than ever with his eyes wide open. “Why is there a human on your floor?” he snapped his head, shooting the question directly to Yoongi’s face, and you saw his body stiffen. “Oh, Father! She’s heard our names! Brother…”
“Silent,” his voice was gruff, and he turned to scrutinize your figure. You weren’t sure of how you looked from the view of an outsider, but you felt… Shock, maybe? Fright? You didn’t know who and what was in front of you, and all you could think was how come his eyes are pitch black now?
“Yoongi, we violated the law,” the man you now identified as Raphael said.
“Namjoon,” his eyes never left you as he spoke, “take our brother home and certify yourself that he does not mention today’s events within the Gates.”
“B-But the protocol-“
“Does not apply to her, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi cut him off, “If you still need me to fight by your side, that is.”
He seemed appalled by the perspective of that being an option. “Needless to say, brother, of course we do!”
“That means I am in charge, then. So, at your superior’s orders, will you be able to keep this to yourself?” Yoongi craned his neck to glance at them through his peripheral vision.
“If it is what you want, brother,” he mumbled, averting his gaze to the floor in respect.
“Well, that being the case, I fear we might have to end this dreadful visit already. Notify our soldiers that I am to be expected soon.”
“Yes, sir,” Raphael responded with a worried frown tainting his beautiful face. He touched the cherubic-like man on the shoulder and they both left the apartment.
Yoongi’s feet were glued to the floor, the same spot he’d been standing since landing eyes on you. Your breathing was labored and hitched; your throat so dry that it felt like sandpaper. He took a little step forward, slowly stretching one hand in your direction. You let out a low whimper, recoiling until you were almost balled up, knees pressed tight against your chest. He immediately withdrew his arm and flinched.
“I told you to stay in the bedroom.” His voice was flat, it wasn’t a scold.
“W-What- What the hell just-“ a sob broke through your throat, and only then did you notice hot tears striking your cheeks. “Y-Yoongi,” you weren’t sure of what to say, let alone if you were actually able to choke a whole sentence out.
“Are you afraid?”
Yes.
Fuck, yes.
Were you afraid of him, though? Granted, his whole countenance while exerting power over someone else sent chills through down your spine. But that was not the man standing before you now, no.
“Who are you?” you asked, trying too hard to keep a clear head.
He straightened his back. “My true name is Michael,” he muttered.
“You know that’s not what I asked,” you objected.
“Yes,” he sighed, “I know. Can you keep an open mind?”
“An open mind?” you scoffed. “I’m here, aren’t I? After seeing a pair of wings growing out of your shoulder blades.”
“You are,” he chuckled humorlessly. He then walked tentatively in your direction, sitting on the floor as well when he deemed close enough. “I’m one of the Seven.”
Your face twisted in confusion. Your brain was trying to deny what your subconscious already knew. “Go on.”
“My brothers and I… we are one of Father’s first creations. Have you ever heard of the seven archangels, George?”
“Yeah,” your voice was nearly inaudible.
“It’s easier for you to understand, then. We are responsible for maintaining harmony in Heaven. That, occasionally, includes keeping things in order between the Gates and Earth,” he paused, searching for anything in your face that would require him to stop. “I am… let’s say, of great importance to keep the balance between our worlds, including the nether regions. You might have already gathered that I’m their leader, so to speak. I am in charge of all heavenly troupes, every single one of Father’s soldiers is under my command, as well as I am under His. In times of war, I am indispensable. That’s why they call me Warrior Prince; amongst other things.”
“So it’s… all real?” your voice almost cracked. “Hell, heaven… God?”
“Pretty much, yeah.”
“Then why are you here?” you murmured under your breath and his expression darkened.
“Immortality can make you petty. Do you remember meeting Azrael? I guess you know him as Jin. Azrael is… unique. Known as the Persecutor, he was the first reaper to ever exist – created before I was, even. He harvests human souls in due time and delivers them to a realm that suits them best. Paradise, Purgatory or Hell. My brother can be misunderstood very easily; his job has brought to the surface a sadistic persona. We all deal with evil from time to time, it was born in our home, but… Azrael is death, it’s a heavy burden to carry. Infinite lifetimes dealing with the worst sentiments a human can ever experience is bound to leave some scars. He can be mischievous and quite a pain in the ass, to be honest,” he huffed, “but his loyalty is admirable. So, when he made an egocentric mistake, Father reunited us all to discuss the best course of action. Much like a trial, if you will. The point is: they banished him to live amongst his… victims for a certain period of time. I could never agree to that, I believe every single one of the Seven serves a purpose, we are all needed to maintain natural balance.”
“So you rebelled?”
“No,” he scowled. “I’m not a rebel, I’m… a nonconformist.”
“It’s the same thing.”
“Not for us, it’s not.”
“Okay. Then what happened?”
“It’s a long story, if you want me to explain it correctly.”
“I do. And you’re everlasting, so I bet we have some time to spare.”
“Right,” he snorted. “My people is a bit traumatized when it comes to defiance, you probably know why.”
“Because of the devil, right?”
“Lucifer deeply despises all of his nicknames. But yeah, he’s the reason. A very long time ago, Father decided to expand our family. My brothers and I were content, but when He presented the idea of more… more of us, more love, we agreed on the spot. See, He was never, ever, the tyrant your kind makes him to be. Until Lucifer, that is. He was… exquisite, my brother. From his birth, each and every angel to exist used to say that Father got inspired by me when creating him, but in a very distinctive way. As much as possible, we were the flip side of each other, although extremely similar still, if that makes sense. With time, our bond grew stronger; we became inseparable. Almost everything we did was in each other’s company: from training in the fields to reading manuscripts under the sunlight. My brothers and I didn’t have much to worry about, it was a very peaceful existence. We had not come to know sin yet.
Needless to say, it did not last. Because we were oddly alike and yet so different, comparisons were nearly inevitable. I didn’t mind them back then, so I thought he would never take it to the heart either. I was wrong. Lucifer distanced himself slowly but surely, and with each passing day, he tried harder to triumph over me in a childish competition, one that existed strictly in his head. He’d become resentful, and his animosity soon spread like wildfire towards the others, too. None of us were able to comprehend a feeling we had never experienced ourselves, so it took us years to make sense of the situation. By the time we did… I guess it was already too late.
When Father created your kind, the hierarchy became even more apparent: only us, the archangels, were allowed to interact with humans – even so, only to a certain degree and always serving a purpose. Father wished your… species to stay untouched by our graces. Masterpieces, as long as kept apart, he had said. You see, your people got it terribly wrong. Lucifer was never jealous of humans – in fact, he holds deep contempt for them. He was jealous of us, of me, because my new responsibilities evinced that we had different roles on the chain of command. If rancor was his first sin, fury came to be the second. He endeavored to make a point of how unfair it was of Father to ‘play favorites’ and provide the Seven with greater might. My brother was a very shrewd, intelligent being, but his envy made him blind to a lot of things.
Lucifer used the following years to spread his beliefs right under our noses, and therefore was able to gather a herd of angels who succumbed to blatant lies just as much as he did. That was the beginning of the rebellion. His ability to lead was remarkable, but he could never be a true leader – not that he intended to, anyway. The reason is pretty obvious: my brother did not care the least about those under his directions, they were means to an end. His main goal was to dethrone the Seven, and for that he forged a deadly weapon: the flaming sword. The uprising initiated a war that none of us were ready for, not even him. For seven days, we fought. For seven days, we continuously killed our own. I suppose you already know the end to that story.”
You were so fascinated by his narrative that you’d already forgotten the reason he brought up the subject.
“I think so,” you said. “The real thing is actually so… different from everything I’ve ever heard.”
“I know. Tales never accomplish the whole truth.”
“But what does that have to do with the reason you’re here?”
“Like I said, my kind does not tolerate defiance after everything that happened. When Azrael was sentenced, I didn’t exactly make an effort to hide how I felt about it. They didn’t take it very well, so if you ask any of them why I was exiled, they’ll say it was for disobedience. When, in fact, it was because I reminded them too much of him,” he sighed, and you both fall into a pregnant pause. “How are you taking this?”
“I’m not sure. I guess I just didn’t have enough time to process yet.”
“I know,” he twisted a strand of your hair in his slender index finger.
All of a sudden, a realization fell heavy on your heart.
“Is your time up?”
His brows knitted themselves together. “My time?”
“Yeah. You said you’d stay here… for a predetermined amount of time. Is that why they came to get you?”
“No, George,” he let out a puff of air from his nose, “that’s not why they came for me.”
“Then why?”
“Think about it. Why would they need their General for?”
You shook your head, trying to make sense of what he was telling you. Oh.
“You said you were indispensable in times of…” your whisper faded to an end.
“War,” he completed.
||\\
“While they adore me on the throne of hell,
With diadem and sceptre high advanced
The lower still I fall, only supreme
In misery; such joy ambition finds.
But say I could repent and could obtain
By act of grace my former state; how soon
Would height recall high thoughts, how soon unsay
What feigned submission swore: ease would recant
Vows made in pain, as violent and void
For never can true reconcilement grow
Where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep:
Which would lead me to a worse relapse
And heavier fall: so should I purchase dear
Short intermission bought with double smart.”
There was a thin layer of snow covering the streets once again. The friction between the tires and the asphalt was barely there, and if the circumstances were different, that would be your main concern. The wind howled as you cut through it like bullets, and you tightened your embrace around his waist, somehow enjoying the numbing air of a cold late-afternoon. Eyes wide opened this time. When he finally parked in front of the porch, you quickly hopped down and took the helmet off, placing it in the seat you had previously taken. Before you could say or do anything, Yoongi seized your wrist with a leather-gloved hand.
“I’m positively opposed to this,” he blurted in a last attempt to change your mind.
“I know.” You tried to free yourself from his iron grasp, but to no avail. It was getting easier to read his features, and you could tell he was still unsure. But you were not. “Yoongi, it’s my call.”
“Don’t I have a say in it?”
“Ultimately… no.”
“Want you to be safe, that’s all. Let us be reasonable about this, why don’t you?”
“I thought you understood better than anyone that I don’t get to be reasonable about this,” you sighed with impatience. “Please, I—”
“Okay,” he loosened his grip. “I’ll wait here.”
“Okay.”
The light was off in the living room, your mother wasn’t home yet. You told yourself that it was better this way. Making a beeline to the stairs, you went over the little list in your head once again before entering your bedroom.
Set of clothes, toothbrush, toothpaste, laptop… What else?
You looked around, the baby-blue walls somehow mocking you, an excruciating reminder of simpler times. Memories of your childhood swirled inside your mind. All the times you and Taehyung would play hide and seek, the squeals he’d let out whenever you caught him off guard, how he was certainly faster than you, but would let you win a childish race every now and then. The familiar scent of caramel and coffee roaming around the house in the wee small hours of the morning after movie nights, your mom’s chocolate chip pancakes for lunch on Sundays. It all felt like a lifetime ago.
Hauling your backpack across your shoulder, you had a weird feeling that that was it. That was goodbye. Although Yoongi had promised you’d be back safe and sound in a couple of days, you knew things could go wrong. It was a pondered decision; you were aware of the risks, he’d made sure of it. Still, leaving his side when there was a real possibility that he might not get out alive was just… not conceivable. Logically, you understood that, if things went south, you would not be able to do much. You did not care much for logic these days, anyway.
[Cheers Darlin’, by Damien Rice]
Stepping out of the room and shutting the door as quietly as possible—for no apparent reason—you hopped downstairs two steps at a time, making sure to avoid staring at other parts of the house that could trigger another episode of nostalgia. Too focused on the task of trying not to focus, you missed the six feet tall barricade blocking the entrance to the living room, crashing into it face-first. If it wasn’t for the unrelenting grip keeping you in place, you would’ve certainly hit the floor.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” the flat baritone voice resonated throughout the empty space.
Of course. You closed your eyes tightly, taking a deep breath before even contemplating lifting your head to make eye contact.
“Do you need something?” in a poor attempt to shield yourself, you parroted his dead intonation.
“Do I need something,” he hummed. Then he chuckled, fists clenching around your forearms. “Are you leaving?” he spat. “What about your mom, huh?”
“It’s just a couple of days. I’ll call her.”
By the scowl plastered on his face, your dismissive attitude hadn’t worked the way you planned it to. You had to do this quick, like ripping off a bandage. If anyone could give you a run for your money in this situation, that would be Taehyung. You knew he’d try to persuade you into staying, so you couldn’t risk it. For both your sakes.
“I see,” he remarked. “Were you planning to tell me you’re running off with your boyfriend or you’d just leave me to figure it out on my own?”
His venomous words burned out of his mouth at lightning speed, tainting his tongue with a pungent aftertaste.
“You know I would never do something like that,” the hurt that laced your voice was evident, but, maybe for the first time, it didn’t make him feel half as bad as it should.
“Do I?” he scoffed. “For the past few months, it feels like you’ve already left. Wouldn’t make much of a difference if you actually did, I guess.”
That did it. You felt tears well up in your eyes, but you were determined to not let them fall.
“Okay, I’m not doing this,” you whispered, not trusting your voice enough to speak properly, and pulled your arms out of his grasp roughly. You darted for the closed front door, feeling sick to your stomach at the thought of spending another minute inside the house. He clutched your shirt tightly, as if it was a lifeboat.
“Wait,” his fists clenched tighter. You could sense him getting closer, but you didn’t have the guts to turn around and face him just yet. He buried his face on your right shoulder, holding your hip now, nails bound to leave little crescent moons on your skin. “M’sorry,” he mumbled. “I hate this.”
Your heart ached. You hated it, too. Pushing Taehyung away was never your intention, but you finally came to understand all the times Yoongi had kept a safe distance before. To keep you safe. You couldn’t risk it, not with Marzipan.
“It’s fine, Tae.”
“It’s not,” he shook his head, brushing his nose on the fabric of your blouse. Inhaling deeply, he moved to the nape of your neck. You shuddered. “None of this is fine,” a peck on the bare skin of your neck, and your entire body tensed.
“Taehyung…” you warned.
“Don’t,” he begged, turning you around. You were adamant on avoiding his gaze, so your eyes kept darting between your feet and your hands. “Don’t go.”
While he rested his forehead on yours, one hand on your cheek and the other thumbing your collarbone, you knew what was about to happen. You knew, and, still, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop him. You knew, but it was Taehyung, your best friend. Marzipan, the little boy from the house next door. Boxy smile, disheveled hair, sweet-toothed Taehyung. How wrong could it be? You were saying goodbye to a part of your own soul. How wrong could it be?
When his lips touched yours, soft and ravenous, you really wanted it to feel right. But the answer to your previous question was: too wrong. You loved him, yes. But he wasn’t him. Didn’t taste the same, didn’t feel the same. His movements weren’t slow yet demanding, his hand wasn’t drawing invisible patterns on your lower back, his smell wasn’t musky enough. It just didn’t feel right.
“Tae,” you tried to end the kiss, but he led his mouth back to yours like in a trance, nibling on your lower lip. “Taehyung, stop!”
By the end of it, you were both panting. It dawned you how big of a mistake you had just made, and guilt made you nauseous. Neither of them deserved what you’d just done, neither of them deserved to have their hearts broken because you were such a fuck up.
“I-I’m so sorry, Tae,” your voice cracked. He was about to answer, but you didn’t want to hear it. You couldn’t breathe, your skin was on fire and there was a big, nasty lump in your throat. You bolted out the door, only to be met with Yoongi’s inquiring gaze. It seemed to have broken a damn, and heavy tears tumbled down your cheeks. He rushed to meet you halfway, brushing the tears away as soon as his hands reached your face.
“Hey,” he shushed you. “What happened, baby?”
“Can we go home, please?”
The crease between his furrowed eyebrows deepened, but still, he chose not to pry any further.
“Of course, love. Of course we can,” he softly muttered, although still hesitant to take his hands off you.
You climbed onto the familiar grey motorcycle and hid your damped cheeks on his jacket. The beast rumbled, gaining speed as you cut through the air. The ghost of Taehyung’s lips on yours haunting you the entire way back.
#bts fics#bts fanfic#BTS suga#yoongi x reader#min yoongi#jeon jungkook#kim taehyung#kim namjoon#bts angst#bts smut#fallen angel#fallen angel au#bts reader#bts you#bts fluff#bangtanarmynet#ficswithluv#park jimin#jung hoseok#kim seokjin#two shot
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YOU WRITE FOR CELESTINE AND KIKI oh my god thank you for feeding us women enjoyers out here i am so glad!! mhy please let me romance them ANYWAYS may i request reader leaving lil cute doodles (like chibis or cute chubby animal stuff?) for kiki and celestine separately in their lunches or something like that cause reader doesn't work in themis and has to wait until break to see them? thank you! have a nice day!
Leaving little doodles for them to find
Warnings: SFW, fluff
Characters: Celestine Taylor, Kiki Bennet, gn!reader
Celestine Taylor x reader, Kiki Bennet x reader
Your welcome, anon! It's a downright crime that Mihoyo made these beautiful women but not give us the option to date them.
COME GET YA'LL FOOD!
Celestine Taylor
Being the founder of a lawyer firm means that Celestine has to shoulder a lot of responsibilities to keep it running which took up a lot of her time.
The only few times you could actually meet up was when you two got off to work together and when you're driving home and even that she sometimes have to go work early or working overtime
Working in different places didn't help the situation either
You knew that this would happen when you started dating Celestine, but you can't help but still wanting to be close to her at work
You sighed at this thought as you grab her briefcase for her that she left at her office while she got dressed in your shared bedroom
As you grabbed her briefcase, your eyes landed on the post-it notes on the desk, an idea popped into your head
----
Celestine sighed as she rubbed her neck, a bit tired from reading the case files that had been sent to her.
For some reason, there's been an influx of clients needing her services and because of that, she has been trying to finish reading the last two thick files on her desk before her break
She was looking forward to take a break from work and have lunch with you
She reached for her briefcase to take out a specific paper that she needed to refer to when a yellow post-it note grabbed her attention
'Did I forget something?' she thought to herself as she her manicured fingers pick up the post-it. 'I don't remember making- oh?'
What greeted her was not a string of words to remind her of any importance, but a small doodle of a cute little bunny holding a little lunchbox, saying "Don't overwork yourself! I'll see you at lunch! Love, y/n."
She'd cooed at the cute sight. You are just too adorable for her
She'll snap a pic of it and texted it to you
'I found this little guy. You wouldn't know how he got here not, would you?'
'Thought to leave you a little something! Lunch at Penny's like usual?'
'I'll be there. ;)'
Smiling to herself, she tucked the little doodle away in her purse for safekeeping and continue with her work with renew energy
She couldn't wait to meet you now.
Kiki Bennet
Although it's still not even the middle of the day, Kiki couldn't wait for the day to finally end.
Lately there's been an influx of clients pouring in the firm's doorstep. As an intern, she has to organise and send the required paperwork to their respective department.
It's been three hours now.
All she wants to do now is go home into your arms and binge watch her favourite tv show.
As she read another email of a client, she grabbed her water bottle that she kept in her bag.
Eyes still on the document, she took a sip when something brushed her fingers.
'?'
There was a small post-it note on her bottle. Curious, her delicate fingers picked up the piece of paper.
A little chubby chibi version of you holding a heart that is as big as them in their arms while saying, "Can't wait to see you at lunch! Love you!", greeted her sight.
A giggle escaped her pink lips when she saw your little doodle.
'Aaaaaaah! So cute!', she squealed internally.
Taking a pic, she sent you a text as she put the post-it note in her desk drawer.
'This is soo cute! But I'd rather have the real deal than a chibi.(つ≧▽≦)つ'
'Aww, stop it! You making me blush! At the usual place for lunch later?'
'Yup! See ya later, love you!(｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡'
'Love you too!'
Sending a heart sticker to you, she continues where she left off with determination.
Now she can't wait for the day to end!
#tears of themis#tears of themis fiction#tears of themis writing#tears of themis imagines#kiki bennet#celestine taylor#kiki bennet x reader#celestine taylor x reader#gn!reader#tears of themis x reader
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wish I were (pt2)
harry acts like everything is good and dandy but reader sees Heather wearing the sweater
part 1 here
‘heather’ by conan gray
WARNINGS - ANGST
WORD COUNT - 1,892
A/N: hehe because it was december 3rd, I just had to get this chapter done to post even if it might be a little late but here ya go
____________________________________________________________
My guitar rested on my thigh as i brought my head down to lay on the fret, staring at the blank piece of lined paper in front of me. I sighed, turning my head away and just bathed in the silence of the separate room from the main studio. The weight on my chest might of suggested the frustration out of my creative block, unable to produce words or lyrics for the past weeks. Or that I was progressively losing the will to even pick up an instrument, as strumming the strings took a lot of energy for me to do.
The oversized hoodie I brought kept me warm, but i knew that wasn't satisfying enough. However the idea of wearing one of his hoodies I've place in a closed box in the corner of my apartment hurt too much and that now I'm back in the studio after weeks of trying to avoid coming here at all costs. After the New Year's party, I've done nothing but wallow up in my apartment alone, trying to come up with songs as quickly as possible just so I could get this project done and over with. That proved to be difficult however, especially with Harry trying to call on a normal basis.
"Helllooo bubs, why haven't you been showing up at the studio eh?"
"You said at the beginning of this project that I could work at home whenever I want. I'm just taking you up on that offer."
"Of course, you'd remember me sayin' that. How've you been love, haven't seen you in a while though."
"Fine, just been doing my job."
"Well yeah, can't write all these lovely songs without your talent, can I? You gonna come in tomorrow then?"
I hesitated for a second, biting my tongue when I felt my eyes pool up again. "I'll just send a pdf of lyrics to you Harry."
"O-oh. Well that would conventionally work... yes but you have to come in tomorrow though."
"Why? Just text me what you like and don't like about the verses and I'll fix them."
"Bubs you know how I feel about in person collaboration. Plus the deadlines are coming up and it'll be easier and faster to have you in the studio."
"Okay."
He hesitates this time and I could see his brows furrowed together as well as having a hand on his hip. Most likely wearing lose sweats and the knitted cardigan he's been falling in love with over the months. His hair a bit longer than it was last time I saw him and his pink lips quirked to the side in thought. Maybe the bags under his eyes are gone, has been looking more happier lately. More happier than I could of made him to be over the months. "Are you okay?"
"I have to go Harry, I'll see you tomorrow."
"Oh see yo-"
He was the first one to greet me when I arrived, and I wanted nothing more than to burst out sobbing when I see his smile. It took everything not to do so, giving him a tight lip smile and quick side hug before sitting down farthest away from him. For the first hour and a half of discussion, I didn't say much and zoned off a lot, tuning in and out of the conversation Harry leaded about a song he had written recently. I felt his glances on me when I turned away, probably sensing my unwillingness to comment so he was considerate enough to not put me under the spotlight in the discussion.
In the middle of it, Harry's phone started ringing and he didn't waste a second to excuse himself to answer it. "Hello? Oh hey darling, you almost here?" I froze when he grows a cheesy smile on his face as he walks further to the other side of the studio before telling us to continue without him. I took a deep breathe, not mentally prepared to be in the same room as her. Has she always been coming to the studio or did I just choose to worse day to finally come in?
I try to focus doodling in my little notebook, but it grew harder and harder to focus on anything else but the way he crosses his arms and laughs while on the phone with her. From the corner of my eye, it was definite he's completely captivated just hearing her voice and I could just picture the angelic tone of it.
I didn't realize I was tapping my pencil till I hear Sarah calling out my name, breaking me out of my thoughts. "Are you okay, haven't seen you in a while." I nodded, putting on a smile.
"Yeah sorry, been getting a lot of work opportunities and just a bunch of family stuff that's exhausted me." Sarah gives me a look that resembles one of a mother who knows their child isn't telling the full truth, but she nods and pats my hand. "Completely understandable. But that's exciting, new artists been reaching out to you n' all that?"
"Ha surprisingly, considering saying yes to all of them." my smile was growing genuine a little, thinking about how content I was with my career. Being a lyricist and songwriter was a definite risky path to take in terms of stability, but it made me happier knowing I was able to to do.
"Oh of course, you can totally do it. Probably wanted to see what all the hype was about when Harry couldn't stop talking about you at every social gathering he's been at." Sarah chuckles, rolling her eyes playfully.
"Yeah?" I quickly looked down, feeling my eyes water as the pang in my chest came back. "Mhmm, acts like Thomas and Mitch don't even exist."
I laugh lightly at that, fiddling with my fingers as I focused down on my notebook. I found myself in an awkward situation, not knowing how to continue the conversation but knowing I didn't want to try. I love Sarah, but I was close to break down right there if I tried and it was not the place to do so. Not when everyone is trying to meet deadlines and Harry was about to walk in with Heather at any moment.
"Hey, I actually have a lot of emails to respond to so I'm gonna be in the other room." I stood up, taking a guitar and my notebook. "Might actually be better for me to focus in."
"Sure, we'll let Harry know." I gave her a grateful smile, walking out into the hallway to a different room. I let out another shaky breath, feeling overwhelmed once I was finally alone. But before I could close the door, I hear her. I peak out to see both her and Harry standing at the entrance of the building, huddled close together.
"Sorry I forget it gets this cold in LA sometimes." She says, looking up at him while he rubs the sleeves of his sweater that was wrapped perfectly around her.
It was a simple orange stripped sweater. A vintage that Harry bought in Vienna and became one of his favorites. It was just a simple polyester sweater, but it became my favorite too. So it was hard to give it back after wearing it that night we kissed, but fuck was it harder to see her wearing it.
Now as I sit alone with no sense of motivation to do anything else but wallow in my own pity I thought about a lot of things. I should be angry, be fuming and cursing at Harry for how he's been acting. I should confront him, make him feel as hurt as he made me for choosing her. Or maybe I should hate Heather, despise her for taking the chance I had with him.
But deep down I know I couldn't hate Heather. She's such an angel, it wasn't her fault he's still hung up on her. And as much as the image of his arm wrapped around her kills me, I couldn't hate him either for the same reason. She looked prettier in his sweater than I did.
"You okay in here bubs?" As if the tears welling up in my eyes and heavy weight on my chest wasn't enough, the sound of knuckles against the door and his voice calling out my name made me almost sob.
"Yeah, I'm good. Door's open." I quickly try to compose myself when he enters the room, giving me that warming smile of his. "Just wanted to check up on ya, been quiet since you got here."
Harry looks at me with concerning eyes as he places a hand on my shoulder before crossing his arms and leaning against the wall in front of me. Keep your hand on my shoulder, the second it was there all the nerves went away. I wanted to say but instead I fake a smile again, waving it off and shrugging. "Oh no, just have a lot on my plate don't worry."
He nods, feeling his eyes on me while I try to avoid his by opening my laptop and skimming through my inbox. "Sarah told me about different singers reaching out to you." He points at my laptop before taking a seat on the chair to the side. I nodded, humming while I typed out quick responses. "Yup, thanks by the way but now I gotta sort out a whole schedule for this year." I took a glance up to see him focused on my song journal on the table in front of us.
“So...you and Heather huh?” The sheepish smile he has tugs my heart strings but I tried to keep from fumbling with my fingers.
“Yeah uhh...” He scratches the back of his neck, keeping his eyes on his hands and looking like a young kid with a crush. “Started talking again and catching up, been working out stuff between us since the party.”
I tilt my head to the side, motioning him to continue. “She’s gorgeous...”
“She’s amazing.”
I finally looked away from him and onto my screen, letting out a little chuckle.
“So you guys are back together?”
“No no, we’re just sort of figuring things out at the moment.” Though it was an answer I was hoping for, the look in his face was none the less comforting.
“Well, hope everything goes great. You guys look perfect together.” I managed to say, going back to typing while he only responds with a nod and hum.
There was silence. Does he not feel it too? Uncomfortable silence was never a thing between us but it was prevalent here. "Not gonna leave early are you though?" He says out of no where and I stopped typing for a sec to give my attention to him. "Not going to ditch me for someone else of course." He says it with a laugh, playing it off like an obvious joke... but the way he looked at me.
Part of me wanted to scream at how oblivious and selfish that statement sounded coming from him, as if he has no idea the drastic shift our relationship has taken. But I see the vulnerability in his eyes, sensing the subtext in his question that is practically asking me to stay. Stick by his side and help finish this passion project he's dedicated to put out, not only for his fans but for himself. Be with him to figure out what to do next, even if I would be in a different county or continent and working with someone else. Keep in touch throughout because I've become an important person in his life. Even if that person who used to fill that spot came back, he's still here and asking me to stay with him in a similar sense.
It wasn't the kind of love I wanted, but never the less, it was still love from Harry.
Did the smile I wear at that moment reach my eyes? When I placed my hand on top of his in reassurance, was the hesitance obvious? Maybe he did notice the little signs, but he took my hand in his anyways and placed it against his heart.
"Of course, 'm always gonna here Harry."
____________________________________________________________
part 3
A/N: guys my heart hurts writing this lol. There’s gonna be one or two more parts of this series, but thank you for reading! feedback is appreciated :)
#Harry Styles#harry styles angst#harry styles imagine#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles one shot#harry styles fluff#harry styles x reader#one direction#harry styles blurb#heather
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yandere!ateez reacts: s/o trying to run away
This is: requested | I was supposed to upload this last night but Chrome became a bitch and I lost all what I wrote in a span of minutes only. Hekhek, pain.
Hongjoong:
Hongjoong may not be as tall as Yunho and Mingi, nor as active, energetic and hyper as San and Wooyoung. But what he lacks, is what he makes up for. Hongjoong is a man of calculations, precision and skill.
You listened to the sound of Hongjoong’s footsteps exit the house, hear his car engine roar and slowly hear the wheels fade into the road. While you had been tied on the bed, you were thankful for him for two reasons: One, he didn’t inject you any sleeping drugs. Second, leaving the cutter behind the lamp at the bedside table. You struggled to get your hands on the cutter, your finger dancing on top of the table until you reached for it. Finally, unbinding your wrists first before your ankles. And then, making your move.
You first went down to the basement, knowing that there is a door that leads to his backyard. However, the doors were sealed shut and lock on the inside. The keys are always with Hongjoong. You went back up and noticed how the windows all had bars and the only free door for you to use is the front door. You slowly walked towards the front door and the blue skies and cold air greeted you. The sounds of birds chirping and the leaves rustling through the wind.
“What a dumb kitten you are.” Hongjoong voice spoke, a visible irritated look on his face as he had his back leaning on the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.
And you were so sure that you heard his car pull out the driveway.
Seonghwa:
Seonghwa’s calm and composed exterior contradicts his wild and aggressive exterior. One minute, he would be whispering you are his and his only. And the next minute he would stab the guy who tried to get your name and number at a coffee shop the other day. RIP to the guy, he was so young.
And that’s what you fell in love with Seonghwa. He was so cool and calm in any situation that you felt like you were safe with him. Hehe, wrong.
Grabbing a fistful of your hair, he yanked and dragged you down to the basement after you talked back at him. How you felt like shit instead of being comfortable around him. And it was only natural for Seonghwa to raise his hand at you and swung it across your face and give you punishment.
Cuffing your ankles through a post. He raises his hand and gripped its hold on your under your chin.
“Don’t be stupid and wait for me here, alright?” He leaned into place a kiss on your cheek despite your protest in leaning away.
You watched as he ascends up the stairs, leaving you all alone in the basement. Looking around, there wasn’t a lot in his basement. It was just you and a couple of items that are tucked under a white blanket. You bend down forward and forcefully remove your feet off the cuff, grunting in the process. Once you were free, you ran up the stairs and went to the living room.
But you heard someone knocking frantically on the front door. Cautiously and curiously you approached the door and slowly opened it. In front of you, an elderly woman appeared.
“Mr. Park, I’m truly sorry, but have you seen my- who are you?” The elderly woman asked, her brows furrowing in confusion upon seeing your dishelved state.
“Please, please, I will explain everything to you but you have to help me! Please!” You begged the woman. The elderly woman nodded her head but as she turned around, she was met with a knife piercing through her stomach. You watch in terror as Seonghwa lets out a soft sigh as he pulls the knife out before continously stabbing the elderly woman before shoving her lifeless, bloody body on the floor.
“I mean how you can be more stupid?”
Yunho:
Yunho isn’t anything like Hongjoong and Seonghwa. In fact, you didn’t know how Yunho’s mind works. But one thing is for sure, he didn’t think much like a normal human. But, everyone in town loves him! He plays with kids in the park, helping out the elderly in crossing the street or carrying their groceries, he even gives food to the homeless.
Dating Yunho felt like heaven. You loved watching him help the people and he always stuck close to you like a puppy. However, you felt like you were being suffocated in the relationship as the months go by. You tried to tell Yunho to be less clingy towards you. And he didn’t took what you said the right way.
You woke up cold and shivering. The place was dark and you were barely able to move your body as it felt sore and aching all over. You then noticed a foul odor besides you, turning your head, you let out a scream afterwards. It was the dead, rotting body of the guy who you immediately realized as the guy who catcalled you in your campus.
You didn’t know how and why but you struggled to getting your limp body up and crawling out of the room. Extending your hand out and then opening the door, you noticed how the house was quiet. The only thing you could hear was your ragged breath and your body sliding on the wooden floor. You plucked up your courage and dragged your body through the front door, as it was the closest to you.
You were so close to the front door when all of a sudden Yunho came from upstairs, jogging down the stairs as he saw your body before yanking your ankle and then dragging you back.
“Hey Officer Song! It’s me Yunho! Sorry about the screaming, its my girlfriend and she just saw a rat in the living room. What’s that? Really? That’s great! I’ll get back to you. Nice talking to you officer!”
Yeosang:
Unlike Yunho, Yeosang is a combination of both Hongjoong and Seonghwa. He learned the art of skill and mastery of calculations from Hongjoong and the art of calm and composure from Seonghwa.
You and Yeosang go to the same prestigious university in Seoul. Even taking the same course (Web Design). And you weren’t sure how Yeosang had a crush on you since there’s still a hundred of people of people under your course. Yeosang was a shy and cute boy yet smart. That’s what everyone mostly knew him of.
And it slowly started out with him buying you coffee, doodling on your textbooks with his little creation called Hehetmon and going on study dates at the library or the coffee shop inside your campus. And one day, you gave your sweet yes to Yeosang’s proposal of being his girlfriend.
It was supposed to be that way but Yeosang one time caught you talking to a guy. He didn’t like how close you are with the guy and how you were laughing with him. He made a note to himself on finding out who is the guy you were talking to. But to you, the guy you were talking to was just your partner for an upcoming requirement.
That night, Yeosang silently entered your home. He lets out a soft gasp as he takes in your almost naked state in bed before leaning in to smell your scent. He dips down as he starts to bind your wrists together first. Much to his dismay, you woke up.
“Yeosang? What are you doing?” You asked, looking at how he binded your wrists and ankles. Writhing underneath him.
“Stop moving around, bitch. You’re making things worse for me.” You have never heard him cuss but that was a first. He placed a tape on your lips to muffle your sounds, pulling out a syringe and then injecting it on your thigh. Slowly you felt drowsy before darkness consumed you.
Hours later, you awake with a sore feeling on your lower back and upper arms. Blinking your eyes, you realized that you were binded on the chair, in front a table and Yeosang sitting on the opposite of you.
“What did I ever do to you?” You spoke groggily to him, blinking more. “I hate you. I want to break up with you.” But Yeosang lets out a sadistic laugh.
“Breaking up with me? Why, were in this together. Remember? Why should I let you go when I finally have you with me? Soon, you’ll realize that you are mine and you won’t need anyone else. Just like Wonho.”
Your blood ran cold. Wonho. The guy you were working in a requirement.
“What did you do to him?” You asked. But Yeosang only smiled sweetly at you. “Wonho? Um, well, let’s say that I worked everything out for you and you’ll be getting the perfect grade. Wonho? Hm, let’s just say that he magically disappeared.” He stood up and placed a recorder in the middle of the table. Playing the recorder as he left the room.
“YN~ Yeosang loves you! Let’s stay together forever, alright? I love you.” Was what Yeosang said in the recorded and oh god was it on loop.
Needless to say, you didn’t get to sleep afterwards. And maybe, just maybe, staying with Yeosang is a good idea.
San:
Very much like Seonghwa. But worst.
San is a sweetheart. There’s no denying that. And you were very oblivious to the fact that he has a crush on you. You’ve always mistaken his flirtiness with kindness that you would make his pick up lines as your jokes. Of course to San it hurts, but seeing you happy is what matters.
Everyday, San lived with the guilt of not being his and yours. He feared everyone would take you from him and it kept him on edge for most of the day. It drove him mad until he could no longer take it. He decided to kidnap you and take you to his home.
And now here you are, on the run, you managed to successfully escape his home and now you needed a ride to take you back to the city. From what you have learned, you were in Namhae, and it approximately takes you 3 hours to get back to Seoul. You were in the brink of walking back to the city when a car pulled up in front of you.
“I’m sorry. I can assure you that I am no creep but do you need a ride? I was just driving to visit my parents in Incheon.” Finally. Incheon was a bit close to Seoul, and you decided to take up on his offer. Climbing inside his car. But as he was about the reverse, a bullet pierced through the windows of his car. Hitting him square in the head.
“If you wanted to go to Incheon, why didn’t you just tell me, baby?”
Mingi:
Mingi loves to shoot range. It’s his past time and hobby. It all started when his father first time brought him to a shooting range in the province in his pubescent teen days. “One day, this will become useful.” was what his father told him.
Despite Mingi’s tall and muscular physique is a child that still lives inside him. Sometimes it comes out, him being clumsy, active and playful. But there are moments wherein he can become mature.
Mingi knew you love him dearly. But these days, he wasn’t sure if that was still the case. His insecurity grew day by day until he eventually ended up like San: living with the fear of you possibly leaving him one day.
On the other hand, you were slowly falling out of love with him. And you found yourself in the presence of someone new. One Friday night, you had lied to Mingi on the phone how you were heading home when in fact, you were taking a cab somewhere else with your new guy. After hanging on the phone, it took you both a few minutes before finally a cab pulled up in front of you.
The driver got out and moved in front of you. Was that Mingi? No. You were so sure that it wasn’t him. You turned around and found him aiming gun point at your new guy before blasting his brains out. 100 points to Mingi for bloodshed.
“So, this is the guy you were leaving me for?”
Wooyoung:
“IF YOU LOOK BACK, YOU’RE MINE”
You remove one of your earphones and looked back at Wooyoung. “What did you say?” but you watched as he jumped out in joy at the open space. Wierd.
Wooyoung is a reallyyyyy clingy boy. And boy did he love to pester you about your boyfriend. You found it weird, why would he always ask for details about your boyfriend? Everytime you asked him why, he would just shrug. And of course you never gave him the details that you wanted. That’s just weird.
Your boyfriend meant everything to you. And recently, he was so happy talking to you about how he made a new friend. You were really happy how he was so happy that he made a friend that you told him to invite him to dinner one night.
And that night finally came. You were in the kitchen while cooking and any minute the guest would arrive. You felt a pair of strong arms wrap around your wasit. You leant your back on his chest, submitting to his touch.
“If you look back, you’re mine.” You let out a soft gasp and then you turned out. Coming face to face with Wooyoung before blacking out.
Jongho:
Jongho was someone is very different from your boyfriend. Jongho was soft and understanding and always was willing to listen to your rants about your everyday life. Whereas your boyfriend kept you under his toxic behavior or leaving you and then showing up a few days. Always partying and hooking up with random girls.
You oftenly wonder why you could never get away from your boyfriend. You mind kept telling you to leave all the toxicity behind, but your heart says to endure the pain as he told you that he is willing to change for you. And he mentioned that a year ago and there was still no new change.
It was just you and Jongho inside a coffee shop, sitting near the window where you would tell him about your day and what were the things you did. And seeing Jongho being immersed with what you have to say made you so happy. Although your momentarily happiness was cut short when your toxic boyfriend came in and told you to come with him.
You wanted to stay with Jongho but you found yourself going with your boyfriend. And Jongho was not okay with that.
He followed you and your boyfriend through the dark alley. There wasn’t a lot of people in the area and Jongho took this for his advantage.
“Jongho?” He came up both from behind. Laying a hand on his shoulder before tackling him on the ground, beating your boyfriend up like a pulp.
“Jongho! Stop it! Stop it!” You pleaded, pushing him away by his shoulder. When he stood up, you looked at the bloodied face of your boyfriend who looked like he was half dead.
“Were you really going to leave me there for this guy, Y/N?” Jongho’s question and uneasy calm voice shook you.
“You couldn’t leave him because the sex is great, isn’t it? I know you. That’s why you can’t leave him. And there’s a part of you that’s still holding onto him. What about me? Don’t you think I deserve a chance as I’m the one who’s with you all this time?”
The guilt kicked in and Jongho’s words started to brim tears in your eyes. You were unsure, that’s true. However-
“If you leave me one more time, I will not hesitate to do the same thing to your parents. They’re old, right? It would make beating and killing them easier.”
#Ateez hongjoong#ateez mingi#ateez yeosang#ateez san#ateez jongho#ateez yunho#ateez seonghwa#ateez wooyoung#ateez reactions#ateez yandere#ateez scenarios
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january: an art retrospective
i did some stuff last month (but it’s a lot of stuff and there’s a photodump + some Serious Fucking Reflection, so it’s all below the cut)
so ok, let’s start with this. here are some heads. each head has a red arrow. that red arrow is what i call the red line of the devil. it’s the slope of the face from the side of the eye to the cheekbone and then down towards the chin. up until like 2 weeks ago, i couldn’t draw it. i couldn’t fucking draw it. i would edit over that part of the face over and over again until i was frustrated and tired and i had a raging homosexual headache and it still never looked right. notice that each head is different. notice that each head looks wrong.
at the start of 2021 i finally admitted to myself, as per the image above, that i was deeply, deeply unhappy with my art. what was the problem? i dunno. but i decided i was going to fix it and i was going to do so via another one scribble a day event wherein for every day of january i would find a photo of a human head, and i would draw it.
january 1st, 2021. i was embarrassed to tweet this even on my private account where like 5 friends and a rock would see it. in retrospect, you can also see all of my bad habits emerging like dicks from a hole in the ground. it’s disproportionate. the brows look flat. the eyes are slanting upwards. the entire drawing looks flat, like this isn’t a 3d person but a caricature of one.
january 2nd, 3rd, 4th:
on the 2nd i decided to start a separate thread for doodles and applied learning. here’s the first set of tests
the rest of the week is kind of uneventful so we’re going to skip those. fast forward to january 11th
this one is especially bad. i am acutely aware, suddenly, that i am not changing anything at all. i’m stressed and miserable about it because i’m still trying to see people as people and trying to draw people that look attractive and proportionate and hot. my friend, leny, reminds me that i need to think about faces in terms of planes. i have a moment. my other friend masha sends me some links to anatomy tutorials. i have another moment.
january 11th. applied sketch
january 13th is when i start the troubleshooting process. the link above drives me mad because i’m pretty happy with the face but then i realize that there’s something very fucking wrong with the shape of the head LOL and then i realize that i’ve never had any idea what the proportion of the face to the rest of the skull is so i grit my teeth and i open a new canvas and i
bald studies. it seemed like the right thing to do. can’t draw heads? ok draw some heads. look at some photographs. i traced each photo but tried to stick to straight lines so that i could replicate the shapes more easily. i broke each face down into shapes. i thought about airplanes
i got really excited. i started doing studies, then applied studies, then stylized studies.
sketches. i’m not sure what’s going on (as always) and it’s very rough, but they look different from the sketches i did on january 2nd. that’s a start
january 16th’s daily study. looks more like a person now. juuuuuust a bit
more applied studies
on the 18th i take a break and go stare at some lips because i don’t understand how the fuck they work. again, i focus on shapes, on volume, on the fact that these things exist in 3d. holy fuck lips exist in 3d. holy fuck we are real
january 19th. i’m working on it.
january 22nd. some sketches + a daily study. it has finally occurred to me that heads can tilt up and down and that things look different accordingly. yes i was not aware of this before. yes i have been drawing for over a decade.
january 23rd. by this point after doing my daily sketch i almost always go back and do an applied study which is basically to say i drew a lot of fucking links. this one looks kind of okay. i’m kind of proud
january 25th. links. trying to make sense of everything i’ve learned
26th, 27th, 28th. daily studies
january 1st. january 31st
The End Of The Photo Dump (dab)
ok NOW i get to talk about what i discovered while studying the shit out of human beings
FIRST OF ALL, there is something precious and magical about drawing shit without the explicit knowledge that you’re going to tweet that shit out to 45 people later. it takes the burden of perception off your shoulders and that does something to you, or at least that’s my theory. i told myself i wouldn’t post any of this stuff until the end of the month (if i wanted to post it at all) and kept everything off my public social media accounts and that meant i could draw ugly as hell without worrying about who would point and laugh, which i absolutely fucking did. a lot of these are fucking trainwrecks. most of these are fucking trainwrecks. why do they look like that?? why??? this doesn’t look like the work of someone who’s allegedly been drawing since they were in kindergarten, does it?????
here’s why: because that person took a huge motherfucking swing at everything they’d ever known about art and spent a month building something new in its place. the abstract explanation is that i grew up on shoujo and weird old anime and my understanding of anatomy was unironically kamichama karin and while i love kamichama karin, when kamichama karin is your rule even if you try to break it, you’re going to end up going nowhere. “you have to know the rules to break them”, yeah? well i didn’t know shit. the abstract explanation is i’ve been miserable about my art for a few years now because i saw other people doing things effortlessly which i couldn’t and instead of going back to the basics, i tried to do what they did (not plagiarism, mind you, i mean i literally tried to copy the red line of the devil i mentioned above because i couldn’t even make that happen) and then i fucking failed.
the simple explanation is this. i had to unlearn everything, and relearn it again (like some kind of new renaissance clown, what the fuck is this?)
take this for example. all my life i’ve drawn faces in the order: eyes, nose, mouth, face shape, head. this works for some people, im aware, but it was something central to how i had always drawn, so i decentralized it. i said fuck you to the old me and changed the order up. now i start with the nose, then the eyes, mouth, the chin line, and the sides of the face. now i force myself to think about the human head as a series of parts interacting with each other instead of a bunch of disparate features which i want to look pretty.
or let’s use this zelda from last year. something about this looked wrong last october, the way something about all of my drawings looked wrong, but i couldn’t pinpoint it for hell the way i couldn’t articulate Any of my feelings about the visual arts. now, looking back, here’s what i see. that nose is sticking out far too much given how she’s not really facing very far away from the camera. that ear at the back shouldn’t be there. her forehead is too big. she doesn’t have a forehead. what the fuck is up with the shape of her head?
so apparently reject modernity embrace tradition has its roots in alt-right terminology and i’m not very horny for the alt-right (you understand), but the spirit survives here. you know sometimes you have to admit that you have no idea what the fuck you’re doing and draw people for 31 days. i’ve spent my whole life drawing stylized people and while again there are artists who have no issue with this, i veered off the track of the Good and the Holy and couldn’t get back on. i had no point of reference because i’d never thought about what an actual human being looks like, so i had no way to fix what i knew in my gut looked wrong but wouldn’t come out better.
this was hard. this was like oikawa tooru swallowing his worthless pride and admitting that ushijima wakatoshi had gotten the best of him for the last time in his high school career, but in haikyuu!! by furudate haruichi oikawa tooru fucks off to argentina and then joins the argentinean national team, and you know what, i think i’ve made it to argentina (not the team just the country). as per the golden rule of dont fucking move until you’re at least two thirds of the way through the month, i only started trying to draw Shit shit on like the 22nd or something, but i was happy with that i created. i am happy with what i’ve done. i’ve posted like 2 things this month that involve people with what i now call ~applied Knowledge~~ and they’re, like, not perfect obviously (perfection is an unattainable ideal), but i’m fucking proud of them. i didn’t spend 5 hours hunched over my laptop adjusting the red line of the devil because it’s not a devil’s line anymore. because i finally sorta get how people work. because i sat down and i said ‘we are not going to fuck with this misery shit anymore’ and then i did that. it’s just a line now.
here are 2 collages tracking my painstakingly carved out progress from january 2nd to february 2nd because i’m a slut for collages
and here’s what i’ve done to my art! the same person drew these but also Not Really! you know! for the first time in a year i don’t immediately hate what i’ve drawn. you know what guys? art is fucking fun. zelda’s forehead doesn’t scare me anymore because i know how foreheads fucking work now, and i don’t know everything, and i’m going to keep troubleshooting stuff as i go (i want to draw a skeleton. like a. i want to draw a goddamn skeleton guys) but i’m honestly and genuinely proud of what i’ve done in the span of a month, and i’m also in disbelief. i started this month-long challenge out as a last ditch effort to make peace with my art because i’ve been tired for a long time and i was ready to kick the bucket on drawing people altogether. i didn’t think anything would happen. nothing’s happened for years. i’ve been miserable for years.
this was the caption for january 1st, 2021. i was super, super fucking embarrassed and it looks like super fucking shit, but you know what, i think i did in fact triumph over the bullshit. surprisingly enough, when you put in consistent effort into something, You Will See Results. didn’t see that coming, did you? i know i didn’t.
this isn’t a success story. it’s a happiness story. i never gave a shit damn about the institute of art or whatever, i was just mad at myself because what i saw in my head didn’t match up with what was on the canvas. and now it’s getting better. now i’m calibrating the compass. now drawing not just backgrounds but also people is exciting to me, and i can stick my links in your face and tell you ‘they hot’. i’m going to keep doing that. i’m going to keep going until i drop off the side of the earth and then spiral towards mars like some kind of fairy, and then i’m going to create something beautiful.
thanks for reading. here’s a pr department link for sticking around until the end
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Thank you for letting me know ^^ I’d like to request Xiefan (romantic) hcs and Eli+Aesop (platonic) hcs ☺️☺️
Of course! Sorry it took me a while to get around to this, my classes started up again recently.
XieFan (Romantic)
God I think about them everyday
I care them so much
I'm gonna talk about them both before and after the flood
Before the flood:
They were inseparable. No matter what happened or what they were ordered to do, they would find a way to do it together.
They were together for a longgg time. They stopped calling it "dating" after about the first year, because at that point they knew it was forever.
Unfortunately they did work at the same place, so it needed to be a little professional
But that wouldn't stop them from sneaking kisses during patrols, or running off during their breaks to go cuddle under a tree
That was actually their favorite thing to do, sit under that tree together. They had two different ways of sitting there.
Sometimes Xie would sit with is back again the tree, his legs criss-cross-apple-sauce. Fan would lay his head into Xie's lap, and Xie would play with his hair or hold his hands.
The other days, Fan would sit with his back against the tree, with his legs almost the same way. Xie would then crawl into his lap and rest his head on Fan's shoulder/chest. Fan would wrap an arm around him, gently doing the little thumb rub on either Xie's waist or upper thigh. Every once and a while he would plant a kiss on his forehead, or tell him to look up and kiss his lips. Xie would keep his hands and legs tucked into himself and just lean on Fan as much as he could.
After the flood:
It was all pain for a while, with only one of them being able to be in the real world at a time.
The only time they ever got close to seeing each other was when they would switch places. As they sank and rose through that muddy goo, they would reach out and try to grab each other's hands, but they were always just an inch too far apart.
Eventually, they had no other option but to look for help.
And so they met Yidhra.
When Xie first saw her servant wandering the manner, he thought she was a survivor who got lost on the hunter side.
But they began talking, and eventually Fan was brought out to show Yihdra what exactly they meant.
When she saw their transformation, she knew immediately that she could help, and her follower told them this.
Though there was a price.
As Yidhra herself was not allowed in Duo matches, they would have to do them for her and bring her as many different things that they could from the matches, which was quite the fair price for what she was doing for them.
She was able to alter their curse and allow them to both be in the real world. So long as the moon was visible at night, the curse would be weakened.
Once she did this for them, Fan eagerly sprinted back to his room, opening the window and beaming when he could clearly see the moon.
He sat on his bed, placing the umbrella in front of him, closed his eyes, and whispered Xie's name.
He sat there, eyes still closed. He heard nothing, he had no idea if it had worked, when suddenly there was a cold hand on his cheek.
He opened his eyes in a flash to see Xie sitting in front of him, smiling so big with tears pouring down his face.
He also began to cry, grabbing Xie and pulling him into a hug.
They wrapped their arms around each other, crawling onto one and other, getting as close as they could in order to make up for years of lost touch. They both sat there on their bed, crying and smiling and kissing the tears off each other's faces.
After that, things were a lot easier on the two of them.
They still were apart a lot, as the curse was wrong during the day, and on night's where one couldn't see the moon they couldn't be together, but every night they could they cherished.
Aesop & Eli (platonic)
These two made for quite interesting friends, that no one really expected.
Aesop was quiet, and very private. Eli was shy, but sociable once he felt comfortable with someone.
Somehow, the two kept being put together in a million different situations, which made Eli comfortable enough to talk to him.
At first it was just small talk, which Aesop despised, and after a while he told Eli to either talk about something worth talking about or shut up.
Eli wasn't expecting this, and out of surprise ended up quieting down
Aesop then realized that what he said may have come off harsher than intended, so he quietly asked what the snake on Eli's blind fold meant.
Eli was happy to talk, and did most of it.
Cue that one meme that's like: Talks a lot Listens
with the characters doodled underneath
As they hung out more and more, Aesop had started to explain embalming to Eli, and while it did make Eli a bit nervous, he recognized and admitted that it was a stable job. Sadly, people passed away every day, and embalming was an essential part of the post-mortem process
He actually ended up apprenticing under Aesop, and learning how to become an embalmer.
It was through this that Aesop started to question some of the things about death that Carl had taught him.
While Eli would be working, studying, or observing Aesop, he would make little hopeful comments about how he hoped their soul rested well, or that they lived a full life, or that they were in the after life they believed in.
These comments made Aesop start to question his view on death, and for that he appreciated Eli, he always appreciated those who's words could make the mind real, even if it wasn't intentional.
Personally, I like to believe that they were both able to leave the manor and start a new embalmer's office in a new city together, where Eli would have his soon-to-be wife move to, and finally live the life he wanted, with his best friend and the love of his life by his side.
As for Aesop, he also wanted this. Though he was used to it, he did not enjoy being alone. Corpses could only provide so much company before it wore a person down, and he enjoyed the idea of working alongside Eli for the foreseeable future.
I really liked writing these, and I thought it was a strange coincidence that Eli and Aesop were the first two survivors I ever really played in IDV & they were who you asked for. I hope you like it!!
#aesop carl#idv aesop#identityv#identity v#idv embalmer#identityv embalmer#embalmer#aesop#eli#eli clark#idv eli#identityv seer#identityv survivor#identityv headcannons#idv headcannons#idv survivors#wu chang#xie bi'an#fan wujiu#xiefan#yihdra#idv wu chang#idv hunter#idv dream with#dream witch idv
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Weasley support system
Pairing: George Weasley x reader
Summary: Y/N takes the position of a subtitute teacher at Hogwarts; her and George’s eldest son comes out as gay
Word count: 1465
warnings: pretty emotional, but I wouldn’t say sad? supportive parents and siblings
a/n: This is based on the concept from my last post. I didn’t spend too much time working on it so I hope you like it? I couldn’t decide on a title so this one might be rubbish.
It was a good palate cleanser while writing the next chapter of little steps as it’s long and my mind started going in loops. Which is why if you have any request, send it my way. I know I haven’t shown much yet, but I’m open peeps
Feedback encouraged!
14th May 2020
Dear Y/N,
The reason I am writing to you is to make a request.
I have recently received news of our current Defence Against the Dark Arts professor’s plan to retire. I’m afraid this has come as a bit of a shock to me and I won’t be able to find a suitable and competent successor in time before September. I don’t suppose you would be willing to take that position long-term, however, I’d like to offer you the position of a substitute teacher for one year, time in which I’m sure to find somebody good enough.
I am giving you time to think the decision through, but I hope to see you at the start of September.
Minerva McGonagall
Headmistress
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
You finished reading the letter and placed it on the table next to your coffee mug and the breakfast leftovers. George took your hand and you looked up at him, both of your facial expressions in a mix of excitement and uncertainty.
“What do you think?” He asked after a bit of silence, softly caressing your hand with his thumb. “It’s an interesting opportunity..”
“It is..” you trailed off “I would see the kids more” he nodded.
You got a bit happier at the thought, and your mind once more went to how soon they’d finally be back home for the summer. You got used to being apart from them, last September even your youngest left for Hogwarts, meaning you and George were left alone at home. You got used to it, but you still missed your babies, who were not babies anymore.
Your eldest, Lucas - now finishing his fifth year, was an introvert with a heart of gold. The twin girls – Ruby and Vivian – although different from each other, both took after their dad – but to your luck with less interest in mischief. The youngest – Jacob, had a natural talent for driving his sisters insane.
You knew being apart from George for months after nearly twenty years of being married would not be easy, but you decided to go through with it, hoping this interesting experience would prove worth it.
Riding on the Hogwarts Express brought a familiar sense of excitement, but you weren’t a student anymore. It was strange, passing the compartments and seeing your children and their many cousins chatting with their friends just as you have all those years ago.
As a professor, you were determined to make your students comfortable and interested in what they were learning. They often asked questions about your work and sometimes about Weasleys’ Wizards’ Wheezes (as a Mrs Weasley it was inevitable) which served as a treat.
“Luke, could you stay behind, please?” you called after your son one day, right after a N.E.W.T. level class with 6th years. He gave his friends a look and walked up to you. “Could you pass me your textbook for a second? I think there were some changes between editions and I’d like to check it with the one I have before my next group…” You said as he reluctantly took the book back out of his bag and put it in front of you.
You flipped through a few chapters and started skimming through one you needed to check. You saw some doodles around the text, along with a few signatures from the same person – Dylan. You did not give it much thought – you knew Dylan, he was Luke’s friend and visited your house a few times in their first years.
You also didn’t notice Luke’s change in expression when you reached that page. His whole body tensed up and breath hitched. He didn’t listen to you ramble about the change in the description of non-verbal spells, he wiped his sweaty palms in his trousers and studied your face, waiting for something.
“You should invite him over around Christmas, baby. It’s been a while.” You said closing both of the books. “Who?”
“Dylan” “Why?” asked with a shaky voice, starting to feel slightly sick.
“Well, you mention him so often. He’s still your best friend, isn’t he?” you looked up to see your son in a state you’ve never witnessed before and you didn’t understand why. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as his eyes started to shine.
“He’s not really my friend, mum.” you waited for him to continue, “I like him.” his voice barely audible, yet you still didn’t understand what was going on. You brought your hand up to caress his arm as his lip began to tremble,
“I know, baby, it’s-“ “No, mum, you don’t get it!” He bit his lip holding back his tears. “I- I like him…”
You pulled him into a hug and cursed yourself for taking so long to catch up. You embraced the boy as tight as you could. “I’m sorry,” he said between weeps.
“No, baby! You have nothing to be sorry about” You brought his face to your shoulder and caressed his head. He took his height after his dad and was already taller than you, but right now felt so small in your arms as you wanted to protect him from the world.
“I’m sorry I haven’t told you sooner”
“It’s my fault you didn’t feel comfortable enough to tell me.” You said, now crying with him. You stayed like that for a bit, kissing the side of his head from time to time.
“I’m not sure you could’ve done any better, mum. You’re pretty great,” he laughed softly.
“I try.” You chuckled.
“Could you.. could you not tell dad?” he said pulling away. It slightly worried you. Was he afraid of coming out to George? You didn’t know how he’d react, but it couldn’t be bad. He loves his children, no matter what. “I- I just want to tell him properly, face to face. I’ll do it during Christmas break.”
“Ok, baby,” you said, relieved, pulling him down to place one last kiss to his cheek, to which he rolled his eyes. Back to normal, that means.
It wasn’t easy hiding it from George when you saw him next weekend, but you managed. Luke soon came out to his siblings (Jacob replied with ‘so?’ and the twins claim they knew).
Before you knew it, George was picking you all up from Kings Cross and you were heading home for Christmas.
The next day, you spent the early afternoon at the Burrow to Molly’s delight. Back home, you planned to decorate the house and most importantly – the Christmas tree, after dinner which you were now preparing in the kitchen. It was open to the lounge room, where you could hear George mumble mostly to himself while reading a magazine. You had missed that.
Lucas walked down the stairs inconspicuously and walked up behind the couch.
“Can I talk to you, dad?” he asked and you tried to stick to your cooking and let them have their moment, but it was hard not to listen in.
“Sure, champ, what is it?” George looked up from behind the paper for just a second, and Luke sat down.
“I- I gotta tell you something.”
George put the paper down, confused by the sudden seriousness. “..You’re not making me a granddad yet, are you?” he tried to lighten the mood, but when Luke only looked at his feet, George straightened up completely with raised eyebrows.
“No, I’m not,” George’s face relaxed a bit, before his son continued, “that’s unlikely.” he paused for a bit and took a deep breath. “I’m gay, dad”.
There was silence for what felt like hours when in reality it lasted just a few seconds.
George’s face showed pure shock. His back fell against the couch.
“Dad?..” Tears started to well up in Luke’s eyes and you wanted to run up to him when you heard the shakiness in his voice. But then George looked up at him.
The warm, reassuring smile you saw on his face reminded you again why you love that man so much. He opened his arms and your son entered his embrace. “I love you, son. And I’m proud of you.” “I love you too, dad.”
That evening, decorating the house with your family made you happier than ever before. You watched the kids bicker about the placement of the ornaments when an arm snaked around your waist.
“The rascals will always find something to fight over, won’t they?” he said with a smile and kissed your cheek. You looked up and placed your hand on the side of his face and whispered “I love you”
“I love you back,” he said and kissed you softly. When he pulled away, you saw that familiar smirk and he turned to the kids.
“So, any boy you’re gonna introduce to us soon?”
#george weasley#george weasley x reader#george weasley imagine#george weasley fanfiction#weasley twins#harry potter imagine#x reader
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OK HOCKEY DIN BUT HOCKEY PAZ
just this HUGE, intimedating defense player and whos definitely given some guys concussions during his career
and then theres you, the sweetheart behind the snack counter who always has a hot chocolate ready for him after the game (his favourite, he once told you)
and hooooo boy has this big man fallen hard for you and your cute sweater and smile and the way you write his name on his little styrofoam cup of cocoa~
All I wanna to say is I know I have a bunch if older asks I need to get to, but THIS has been on my brain since I read it and I think I need soft Paz after posting the angst earlier.....
Also I know NOTHING about hockey, but I do like to watch it and think its hot af lmao...
The consessions job at the local hockey rink was only supposed to be a temporary job for you while you worked on your masters degree. In fact the position you had been hired for was only supposed to for a single hockey season. But said season came and went, and when asked to work at the hockey rink year round you had readily agreed, not because you liked the job, infact you found it stressful to add onto your schoolwork as well as agitating with having to deal with pretentious customers, but because the star defensive player of the Mythosaurs, Paz Vizsla, was sweet and caring and you may or may not have developed feelings for him over the course of the first seasons games.
The first time you had met the giant of a man, was after the Mythosaurs' first game of the season. You had been abandoned by the other workers to clean and take stock before closing and you had angrily been scrubbing at a mustard stain for five minutes when you had heard someone clear their throat. Looking up, ready to tell off whoever was there, knowing you had every right because you were technically closed, but instead you ended up staring silently with wide eyes and half open mouth as you made eye contact with a sweat(?) and large imposing figure wearing a tight shirt with the number 26 and the Mythosaurs team name stretched across his chest. Gulping you gave him a shaky smile when he had smiled at you. Before you could even say anything he spoke up, saying, "I know you are closed, but I was just hoping you may have any spare hot cocoa left over for the night," you found yourself only nodding and feeling a warm stirring at his deep breath. As you made him a large cup of the left over cocoa and handed it to him, you hand come to the conclusion, you either were terrified of him beyond comprehension or you absolutely and utterly attracted to him. After that first night you found yourself volunteering to close, just so that you would be able to see the large hulking figure and recieve one of his blinding smiles. You got so good at closing, that by the time Paz came around after a month, you had completely finished all the closing chores and had time to doodle little figures or animals or even the team mascot on Paz’s cups and have his drink ready for him by the time he walked out of the locker room.
After you had agreed to work year around, that was when you were shocked with a sudden revelation. You had been working one afternoon when the rink was open for skating lessons and just open to the public. Work had been steady, and you found yourself smiling as watched younger kids trying and walk past on skates, several loosing their balance and falling on their butts. You were slightly disappointed that from where your stand was situated you weren't able to watch the kids learning their way around. On your break though, you did manage to sneak out with a soft smile on your face, only to stop dead in your tracks seeing Paz bent over holding a young girls hands, keeping her steady as he skated through the rink with her. You couldn't help but place a hand on your lower belly trying to quell the heat that was rising there from the sight of the large man clearly whispering reassuring things to the girl. You had run back to the consessions after that, hoping to finish out the day and push the sight from your head. But nothing seemed to quell that warmth, and by the time your favorite hockey player came strutting up the the counter, you could only hand Paz his hot cocoa while looking away, flustered. Paz had instantly thought something was wrong, scared he'd done something to upset you when you didn't look at him. You heard him gingerly set his cup to the side of the counter and launched over it, landing in front of you, before cupping your face and making you look at him, instantly asking if you were okay. Gulping you knew your chest was heaving, and you let out a whimper before nodding your head, knowing your voice would not work in that moment. Then he softly lowered his voice, asking, "Then what is wrong, darling?"
Groaning you bit your lip and looked up at him through your lashes, you said, "I..I saw you helping a little girl on the ice earlier...and..."
"And," he whispered as he brushed your cheek with his thumb, waiting patiently for your answer. You took a deep breath and squeezed your eyes shut, "and i-it was probably one of the hottest and cutest things I've ever seen in my life. And I realized in that moment just how much I want you."
Paz froze and searched you face for any lie or deceit, be fore he slowly said, "Darling are you saying that...."
In that second you opened your eyes again and made eye contact, as you gathered up all your courage and said, "Paz, I have never felt as hot and bothered as I did in that moment, or as I still do. I cant shake the feeling no matter what I do. I...I want you so badly...."
What you hadn't expected was for Paz to pick you up and throw you over his shower. You yelped, as he launched over the counter again, pulling a worker who was wiping tables a few feet away telling them to finish your shift with a growl that did nothing but sent heat shooting through your belly. You didn't even have time to ask him what he was doing before you found yourself pressed to the locker room wall with his hot mouth on yours. Paz kept whispering about how much he had dreamed of holding you like this, kissing you like this, being with you like this. You were helpless to stop his onslaught of words or touches, only able to make pitiful noises and say Paz’s name as his hands finally started slipping under your thick sweater.
By the time the two of you walked out of the locker room, you both were overly pleased and had satisfied, happy smiles on your face. After you ran to grab your things from you work locker, Paz grabbed your hand and said, "I know I should have asked this before everything we just did, but, darling, may I take you out to dinner?"
P. 2/Prequel
#did i go overboard? yes#do i have so many thots about this? yes#do i have thots about how din is the offense star and be is head over heels for Luke Skywalker the local and famous figure skater??? yes#ask for more and I WILL write it#paz vizsla x reader#paz x reader
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