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cuckoo-on-a-string · 1 year

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Hello, Mr. Monster (One. Sand)

Morpheus x OC/reader (female), Soulmate AU, Eros and Psyche retelling

Chapter track: "The Killing Moon" by Echo & The Bunnymen

18+ (smut/spice kicks off in next chapter)

Warnings: (non-sexual) violence against a child, tarot, herbal medicine/witchcraft

TAGGING: Tag lists break my posts, BUT I reply to comments the day of new chapters, so you'll get a personal update every time you stop to chat. ;)

A/N: Welcome! Enjoy. Holy shit, friends, we're gonna have some fun.

@moon-tracks: Your much delayed prompt has born fruit! Goblin fruit, I'm afraid. Hope you enjoy!

One: Sand

Soulmates were more dream than reality.

Not that they weren’t real and true in the waking world, but humans liked nothing better than to bury their truths, especially the dangerous ones, the beautiful ones that blossomed with thorns and teeth. Everything that made a soulmate – dreams and desires; destiny, delirium, and despair; even death and destruction – tallied among the Endless and thrived in the subconscious.

And true to humanity’s intrinsic contradictions, each soul wanted nothing more than to find its mate and feared nothing so much as a true match.

Such beautiful, sharp things. The unseelie who kept the little tent at the gates of the goblin market under Brown Bridge liked making terrible, terrible gifts of them. The process was bloody, and the results devastating. Revealing a soulmate required some scratching – deep inside, through a human’s mortality, which kept the conscious and unconscious apart. But what happened next in the months and years of their tattered mortal lives is why they did it.

Parting the veil so one soulmate could know the other without any kind of reciprocity always led to doom. A human would do anything for their soulmate once they found them, knew them. Their intense affections led to obsession more often than not. Sometimes it turned violent, and they destroyed the thing they loved, the one who did not recognize their mate. Despair claimed others who turned destruction on themselves. Because of the damage to their mortality, that often took great effort and multiple attempts.

High drama. A wonderful show.

And the unseelie found the softest victims to dance for their amusement.

Their tent sat just outside the gates of the market proper, where any mortal might see them and mistake them for a homeless citizen warding off the river wind in their simple tent.

The trap was simple: they glamoured a few leaves into dollars and let one or two go tumbling down the way. Any human who snatched the leaves and ran earned a curse. Their pockets and wallets would grow holes. Or they’d lose all love, passion, and interest in whatever they spent the false money on – it could be a bowl of chili or a bauble for a lover. Whether they lost interest in eating or forgot their lover, they quickly lost the unseelie’s attention, too.

The mortals who returned the money had a darker fate. A lovely dream with hidden razor while to tangle them deep. The unseelie thanked them and offered to reveal a bit of the victim’s fortune, to see who they would fall in love with. Most accepted the offer, simply to humor them. An unseelie could be most persuasive.

One snowy day, after the festive season had passed and all humanity’s generosity dried up in the harsh winds of the new year, a little girl picked up the tumbling leaves.

She brought them back, pinched in mittened hands, a smile glowing under her breeze-chafed cheeks. A little adventurer who’d escaped her parents’ attention, all unbroken hope and unsullied naivety. The sort of pretty fruit, the unseelie might be tempted to pluck from her mortal life – if it weren’t for her damned eyes.

They knew what the child saw the moment they looked. The girl saw with true sight. Fighting the urge to cringe away from the attention cutting straight through their glamour, the unseelie smiled back, all teeth. The child didn’t even flinch, only holding out the money out for long, black nails to pluck from her grasp.

“I think these are yours,” she said.

The unseelie snarled through their smile, seething with hate. It flared like a fresh blaze from a banked fire at the child’s presumption. “Thank you. I must give you a boon in thanks.”

Shaking her head so the pompoms on the end of her hat’s ties swung around her neck, she said, “I don’t need anything.”

“I don’t offer toys or trinkets, child. Don’t you want to know the name of the one you’ll love?”

“I already love lots of people.” The child pondered. “That sounds like it would take a long time. I meet someone new to love every year at school. Or when we get new neighbors, or –”

A little sharper than they intended, the unseelie injected. “A soulmate, child. Your true love. Like in the stories your kind so loves.”

That gave the child pause. The unseelie could practically see the animated films rolling behind their eyes, the pretty picture books and saccharine romances.

Careful to maintain their smile, they added, “It’s a secret only someone like me can reveal. You’ve done me a favor. Now I must return it. You would not keep me bound, would you?”

Little eyebrows flew up over wide eyes, and the child all but leapt to accept their offer. “No! I don’t. Okay. You can tell me the secret, and then you’ll be free, right?”

With one long arm, they lifted the flap of their tent, revealing a space much too large for the sagging frame to contain. With the other, they caught the girl around the waist and pulled her gently within. “Of course, of course. Come inside where it is warm.”

The little fool did.

She looked around with eyes of wonder, eyes the unseelie desperately wanted to pluck from her face, but a lifetime of suffering would hurt far more. And they’d promised, after all.

They ushered the child to pile of cushions, and she plopped down like she was about to hear a story before bed. Far too trusting. Far too confident in the kind world shaped by her parents’ guidance and protection.

Their anguish and grief would taste so deliciously sweet.

Without preamble or further misleading truths, they let the fabric fall, sealing them in a bubble realm where no one would interrupt the procedure. Then they lunged, pinning the child to the cushions by the shoulder as they scrabbled between planes of matter to find her mortal shroud.

The impact briefly knocked the air from her lungs, but she started bleating as the unseelie’s talons scraped against the partition between aspects of the human soul, those only united in death. Those cursed eyes watered, overflowed, and the unseelie hissed with naked malice and pleasure as they scratched away more and more of the golden curtain, hunting for the promised name while inflicting as much damage as possible.

The tiny thing struggled, trying to pull the arm away from where it disappeared into her puffy coat. But she was neither strong or magically savvy enough to accomplish the deed. All she could do was shriek and suffer, calling for help that would not come in a world apart. Her tiny fingers, flashing with glittery nail polish, tried clawing back, angling up at her attacker’s face, but her arms couldn’t reach.

The pattern of the child’s wyrd emerged from her subconscious, the weave of action and fate intertwined as paths and crossroads to create a life. The unseelie felt it hum and shudder under their questing talons, watched as subtle shifts adjusted around their presence, forever altering the girl’s course.

And finally – a name.

Morpheus

They froze.

The girl nearly wriggled free as they stilled, elbow-deep in her essence.

For the first time in their long life, the unseelie felt unspeakable dread. They knew the name caught up in the girl’s fate, the one thrumming through her heart, waiting to be found and kindled into waking fire.

They studied their work, looking for an accident, a misunderstanding, some confusion of the patterns behind the tattered veil. But, no.

The little chit was bound to an Endless. No games would work here. Yet the damage had already been done. Should the Dream Lord ever return, he would see what clever fingers tore apart his soulmate’s mortality and come for terrible vengeance. The unseelie was no mortal. The rules that protected humanity offered them no shelter.

Perhaps the Dream King would not return. Maybe he would stay lost for the long, long years of this broken mortal’s life. And it would be such a long life now. She would carry on past missed appointments with Death, a breath away from everything she should have had. It was the unseelie’s doing, that long life.

They pinned the thrashing child flat again and stared into her reddened eyes, the eyes they hated to very, very much, and had an idea.

But broken mortality wasn’t really immortality. Anything might kill a little girl, or a flood of anythings.

The Dream King couldn’t be angry if they filled her heart with him. And if all those lose dreams and nightmares flocked to the tiny, tasty morsel glittering with a bit of their lord’s power? Well. Hardly the unseelie’s fault.

They’d only given her a gift.

Pinning the girl with their knee, they freed their hands to conjure a vial no bigger than the girl’s thumb. They barely had a thimbleful of Dream’s sand, collected over decades from sleeping minds and a couple cursed souls, and now they must use it all. They dipped one long claw inside.

Their arm sank back into the girl’s chest, summoning fresh screams and tears as they groped for her heart. Her wyrd wrapped tight around the pulsing core, and the unseelie worked carefully as they made the first cut, letting the sand fall into the open wound.

The screams – impossibly – rose in pitch.

The Dream Lord’s name took shape in a more literal sense, visible now to anyone with the vision to see it. Fae, gods, and Endless. Gifted humans, dreams, and nightmares. Anyone with a grudge to settle could take it out on her tender flesh. Anything hungry for a taste of the Dreaming need only take a bite.

Morpheus’s name shone with power, and the sand had already started through her blood, binding her even closer to the missing king and his realm. Every inch of her.

Satisfied with their work, they pulled their hand free – away from her heart, through her wyrd, through the tattered curtain of mortality – and licked their talon clean of blood.

Sweet. A shame their first taste must be their last.

Glowering down at the girl lying in a sweaty mess of wet hair and winter clothes, the unseelie felt the tug of their deal on their own heart. They must complete the bargain or be extinguished.

Well.

They’d give the girl a warning, the closest they’d come to kindness. As she panted, drenched from tears and sweat, they leaned low and rasped a truth into their damned eyes.

“Your soulmate a monster even the gods fear.” They felt a shiver wrack the little girl’s prone body under their weight and sneered. They still owed a name. “He is called Morpheus.”

Deal finished, vengeance for the true seeing eyes acquired, they rose, pulling the girl by her hair to the tent’s entrance and hurling her onto the icy pavement. No farewells. No explanations. No offers.

Done and done.

The tent left its place under Brown Bridge, looking for a new market in a new city. Preferably one without unwary soulmates to missing Endless wandering into traps and making life difficult. They would not meet again. The unseelie would make sure of it. The world was a big enough place to get lost in, and an unseelie prospered in the shadows.

Back under the bridge, a little girl stumbled to her feet, clutching her aching chest, aware that something terrible had happened to her, but too confused and upset to explain.

She stumbled home with a name and injuries her parents couldn’t see.

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Two Decades Later – 2022

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The Magician reversed. The Devil. The Star.

The cards stared up at her with a story she struggled to read, a simple three-card draw she’d hoped would explain what pulled her back to England time and time again, regardless of expense and frustration.

She’d meditated before she drew each card, focused on her question, on her present, on her own energy.

But it didn’t feel like her story.

“Aisling?” the voice on the phone crackled. “Still there?”

Still glowering at the tarot on the bedspread, she reached for her cell, pulling it closer to physically remind herself of the conversation. The puzzle frayed her attention, and she found herself torn between friend and fortune.

“Yeah. Yeah, sorry.”

Tea. She needed tea. Leaving the mess on her bed and bringing the phone to the rental’s kitchenette, she set the electric kettle to boil while explaining her distraction. “The cards aren’t behaving. I’ve pulled nothing but major arcana all week, the same three cards. It’s like someone else’s reading.”

On the other end of the line, her friend hummed. Aisling’s distraction was already a red flag, she knew, and now there’d be questions.

Much as Constantine liked to pretend she had no fucks to give about heaven, hell, or those trapped in between, she had a few attachments she hadn’t fully accepted as such. Good news, really, because once Johanna realized she cared about someone she hacked them out of her life with vicious efficiency.

“Sounds like weird shit. Where are you? What are you doing? You said you were in England but you haven’t come to bother me.”

Aisling peered out the leaded window as she popped a tea bag into the pot. Across the blooming garden, the towering gothic edifice of Fawney Rig loomed.

“Oh, you know.” She turned away from the phone, like she couldn’t even meet the screen’s black stare as bubbles of guilt fizzed in her stomach. Looking for a teacup gave her an excuse. Like she needed one. “Somewhere you’d disapprove of.”

Johanna’s growling sigh made her smirk even as the guilt rose to a boil in her gut.

“I’ve told you: you’ll always find trouble when you looking for it. So, stop looking.”

Despite knowing about – and using – her true sight, Constantine still clung to the belief Aisling could make her life better by ignoring her intuition. But she’d never found that to be true. Normal people could choose to ignore omens and portents, could pack up house and start a new job in a new town to avoid their problems. Aisling’s problems followed her wherever she went. Tenaciously. Her intuition just helped her keep a couple steps ahead. Sometimes, it even let her help other people. Like Constantine, in fact.

Anyway, unless she cut her eyes out of her head, she’d never be rid of that first curse.

“Yes, well, that’s always been my problem, hasn’t it?” She tried not to sound bitter, but she could taste the acrid bitterness as the words left her tongue. Lot of feelings there. Not Johanna’s fault. Even if she didn’t get it. She heaved her own sigh and decided to steer the conversation to new ground. “Anyway. What are you up to?”

Johanna shrugged. Aisling didn’t have to see her to know. “This and that.”

Thready plumes of steam escaped the kettle. She grinned, waiting for the beep that would announce tea time. “Trouble and turmoil?”

“The usual.” Johanna paused and the line went quiet. Aisling could vaguely hear the city traffic echoing through the speaker, and she wondered if Constantine was on her way to a job. “Whatever you’re getting yourself into, be careful. Stop by and see me in London when you have time.”

The kettle beeped, and the hot water burbled into the little teapot like it was rushing to meet an old friend. As the faint aroma of the simple black blend hit her, she looked at the white roses nodding around a nearby trellis, considering what Johanna might need.

“Out of salt?”

“Nah. Just want proof of life.”

She shook her head. Four minutes until the tea steeped.

“Hilarious.”

“Practical.” Spoken like a true magic user. Less fairy tales and pixie dust, more blood and obituaries. “I mean it, Ash.”

She couldn’t ignore the note of warning in Constantine’s voice, and she didn’t fight the urge to reassure her.

“I’ll try.”

“To be careful or come see me?” Johanna asked like she didn’t expect either.

The tea was ready. Steeped or not. Too hot or too cold. She needed it.

And she needed to figure out the damn reading.

“Both. I’ll talk to you later, Johanna. Bye.”

Constantine snorted. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

The call ended, and Aisling poured a cup of very hot, half-steeped tea. She took a sip as she arranged herself in front of the cards and decided she’d had worse, even if it was weaker than her New Year’s resolution to give up caffeine every January.

She should’ve used one of her herbal blends, a magical tisane to open her third eye or ease the gap between her dreaming and waking mind, but she was a little worried her hosts would come knocking and pick up on the smell. Logic and reasoning would have to do.

The reading still didn’t make sense as a whole, no matter how much she stared at it, so she broke it into parts.

She could place herself in it – sort of. A tangential connection or two linked current events to the first card.

The Magician.

It clearly represented Roderick Burgess. Inept, weak-willed, and insecure.

He’d been quite a character back in his day, styling himself a magus when he was nothing more than puffed up cult leader.

In the century since his golden days, the Burgess family sank out of the limelight. While hardly destitute, they found themselves facing the same class struggles as other rich, landed Brits with dwindling incomes and rising costs. Their grand home, once their greatest pride, became the millstone around their necks.

Aisling had no idea what economies they’d taken, but they’d put the outbuildings to use. Or one of them, anyway. A few renovations, and the gatehouse became a small apartment up for rent. The cramped quarters made for an awkward little utility flat, but it served buckets of charm and hinted at a haunted history. Crack for tourists. The house wasn’t open for tours, and the owners requested no photos of the main residence be taken, but it was enough to draw guests for a night or two. Everyone liked a good ghost story, and Fawney Rig was rotten with them.

Aisling rented the space for a week, yanked by the nose after she found the innocuous listing online. Her intuition screamed to go – hunt – search – find… something.

It should be in the middle, though, if it represented her present. The Magician sat to the left, the past position, and her intuition insisted it referenced the magus, not his mansion.

The Devil took the present.

It wasn’t a friendly card. Its range of meanings all tied back to physical or psychological bondage. She’d heard the stories of Burgess keeping the Devil in his basement, but Constantine’s work proved Lucifer was safe and well in the bowels of Hell. Maybe he trapped something else in the cellar. Weak magic users like the magus often pulled on secondary powers, unable to draw from their own. It wouldn’t explain the family’s decline, though, if they still had the beastie in chains.

Her cards were rarely literal, but maybe her intuition simply wanted her to get into the basement.

A nice, obvious suggestion. She’d already tried.

She carried what she considered three curses. First, her true sight. That was an accident of nature or fate. The other two she blamed on the fae she met on a winter night under the bridge. She only understood what it had done when she was older – destroying the veil between consciousness and intuition, then carving a monster’s name on her heart with a fragment of the monster’s own power.

The last two curses made her a powerful oneiromancer. She walked between dreams and reality when she slept, like a mix of lucid dreaming and astral projection. When she entered Fawney Rig her first night as a guest in her sleeping shape, she found all doors open to her. All doors except the one to the basement.

Intent blocked it like a magical ward, dying wishes to keep out magic and dreams.

She’d never seen anything quite like it, and wondered how many members of Burgess’s cult died with visions in their minds’ eyes before they passed.

Roderick’s ghost scowled at her as she examined the door, and she’d flipped him the bird on principle. He couldn’t hurt her. Too weak. An abandoned soul who’d done something to piss off death, he faced an eternity of powerlessness, watching with no control. They hated each other at first sight.

She had three more days in Fawney Rig’s gatehouse. If things went well, she’d reach the basement that evening with a different approach.

Which led her to the third card. The Star, a predictor of opportunity and help unlooked for, a symbol of faith, hope, and dreams.

They were all too close to being meaningful without actually slotting into any order that made sense. Together, the three cards suggested a path tangential to hers, one she crossed or play a part in.

But it wasn’t her fortune.

Which begged the question: whose was it?

She chugged the rest of her tea – a little cooler and still weak as fuck – before sweeping up the cards and tapping the set back into their painted leather holster. As she fasted the clasp, the pattern caught her eye. The pattern wasn’t unusual for a magical tool – a star set in a geometric pattern for inspiration and protection.

Her thumb brushed over the four points of the white mark. Did it represent her? If so, what aspect guided her role, and whose future would she influence?

Her left hand rose to her chest, rubbing slow circles as she considered. The ache was her most faithful companion. It grounded her when she lost focus, anchored her to her physical body and dreaming self with every burst of throbbing pain. People waxed poetic about heartache, but she knew it in all its forms, and there was nothing romantic about any of them. She hadn’t met her soulmate. Probably never would. But the bastard made her hurt regardless.

Tea finished and cards packed, she checked her phone for trains leaving the local station in the wee hours. Once she finished whatever she’d come here to do, she imagined she’d need a quick exit, stage left.

Possibly pursued by bear.

Hours passed, shadows circled the room, and she watched the day melt behind Fawney Rig’s gables.

Her suitcase – carpetbag, really – sat by the door, ready to escape the consequences of her actions. An ocean should be enough distance. The paper trail didn’t worry her. She paid in cash for a reason. But whatever was in that basement… hopefully their fortunes only tangled briefly.

Full again, the teapot waited for her to pour a cup and begin her spell.

Since her sleeping self couldn’t breach the door, she’d need to walk through in her corporeal body. All fleshy and vulnerable to things like the security guards who came and went twice a day through the servants’ entrance her window overlooked. They had guns, and she didn’t want to find out if they were the type eager to use them.

If she had to be awake, they had to sleep.

Fortunately, one of her curses could help with that. It would cost her, but Fawney Rig had good security, and she had few options left. Besides, there should only be five people in the house. She’d survived five days without sleep before. She’d be fine.

So she filled her cup and made her circle. Witch’s salt whispered between her fingers as she drew the shape, leaving black smudges on her skin. She didn’t bother wiping it off. The muted scent of burnt herbs filtered through her senses as she lifted the cup to drink. Skullcap, wormwood, and rosemary washed her mouth and throat clear of waking worries, and as the magic warmed her belly, seeping into her blood, the sand sleeping there woke.

Johanna’s sorcery followed strict rules. Words and symbols summoned and channeled the power. Without them, things went sideways, or they didn’t go anywhere at all. But Aisling was no sorcerer. More of a witch. And while she needed tools and potions to do her best work, she preferred the quiet over chants to guide her.

In silence, she gathered the depthless sensation of REM, honed it with fatigue and a desperate need for rest. Heavy lids. Closing eyes. The sweetly inescapable call of a good night’s rest after an endless day’s work. She held the urge. Fed it. Let it steal her own sleep. When swelled, stretching like a restless child trying to doze, she threw it all in an invisible wave towards the house. Her hands pushed out, physically mimicking the force, and held the pose until the wave crested, crashed, and washed into foam, drenching Fawney Rig with her intent.

She felt the waking minds within sink under the spell’s influence, and she spared herself a minute to release the focus, come back to her thoughts and plans and body. The ring of black salt remained undisturbed. Nothing fought back, then. That was good. It meant she had less to worry about while she broke a few laws.

The empty cup joined the teapot on the counter, unwashed and abandoned. Until she knew if her pretense of a polite guest would see the light of morning, there was no point, and her spell wouldn’t keep them asleep forever.

Blank-faced, the man in the moon watched her stride through the garden, hunting for the little pot near the gazebo where Paul kept the spare key.

They met her first day in the gatehouse when she paused to admire his flowers. He was a sweet old man, and he was happy to share about his beloved garden. His first love at Fawney Rig, though not his greatest. When he explained he used to be staff, she’d given him her very best smile and laughed.

“I guess that makes you Cinderella.”

Clearly a romantic, that one. He smiled at his feet, saying it “Wasn’t quite like that,” but obviously pleased with the vision she’d spun him. When he found out she was staying by herself, he’d shown her the key.

“For emergencies. The gatehouse isn’t the most secure, and we’re a ways from town. You know, just in case.”

If both hosts were so sweet, she might not have heeded the mysterious call to the old house. Her world had more dark than light, and she’d hate to leave tar and ash in Paul’s beautiful flowerbeds.

But then she met Paul’s husband.

She couldn’t say exactly why she didn’t like Alex, but he had a brittle edge like a rusty knife lifted against the world. He wore the fragility of the perpetual victim, eternally on-guard, someone who’d been hurt but could never move on from their pain, because if they did, they’d have to admit they were also an abuser.

He had ugly secrets locked away in his grand house, festering away like septic boils, and every inch of her being insisted it was her task to lance them.

She took the key with regret, but she still took it, and the heavy front door opened like she’d been invited in.

Everything she’d picked up in her days outside the manor proper landed twice as heavily as she stepped inside, shoes tapping over the polished floor. Her dreaming form had limitations. It walked a path between awareness and the unconscious, and it had trouble picking up on much beyond what she went to sleep intending to do or find. Now, she breathed in every detail.

The old manor creaked with the burden of death obstructed. It choked on lives unnaturally extended, ghosts kept alive by magic and petulance until the world left the estate behind. It had become more museum than home, and though Alex and Paul had cleared out a few places to call their own and wired in modern conveniences as they were invented, the place seemed to hold its breath. It laid largely undisturbed with the glassy eyes of balding taxidermy guarding the sins of a dead man.

Because Roderick Burgess was a sinner for sure. Wild tales aside, the angry ghost silently raging at her from on high wasn’t that of a benevolent soul. Sleeping or waking, her eyes looked true, and a ghost was a ghost in any world it walked.

She spared him a middle finger again. Just for funsies.

Prick.

He wasn’t worth any further attention.

The door, however, was.

She pulled back the curtain shielding it from the hall and examined the lock. It had many keys. She’d seen the heavy, jangling rings of them the guards carried, and Alex Burgess must be paranoid enough to keep one on his person. But in her sleeping quest, she’d discovered lots of things about this door. No one needed to tell her where the spare key hung on a hook under the aged buffet in the hall. It practically glowed to her dreaming eyes, and her waking fingers found it quick enough.

It slotted in the hole and released the bolt with a click. Easy as could be. Just like the key from the garden.

All these little treasures stashed away in case of emergency were about to cause one.

The portal to the basement yawned wide. At long last. The hollow silence warned her away, but the place under her ribs twisted. Determined.

So, through the door. Down the stairs. Trotting, quick and quiet on her nameless mission into the bowels of the Demon King’s estate. She could imagine Johanna’s voice cutting across space and time, picking apart her plan, shitting on her magnetic attraction to the cursed and unfortunate corners of the world. No back-up. A vague idea of an exit strategy. No clue what she was walking into.

What could possibly go wrong?

The goosebumps on her arms forecasted doom, but she couldn’t ignore the sparking current running through her chest. The farther she went, the clearer the sensation became.

Despite the electric lights, shadows clung like dust, growing deeper and wider as she neared the bottom of the stairs. The basement sucked the life out of the LED bulbs, refusing to share its secrets with an outsider. Hush, it whispered, hide it, bury it, keep it from the daylight.

Each step charged the static creeping over her skin. Her heart threatened to fall out of rhythm with the little shocks as it swelled around her like the sea. Something she could taste. Something she could drown in.

She didn’t have to look into the room to know the guards slept. She felt it. Their resting minds hummed in the space like a pair of bees. If that wasn’t proof enough, a snore echoed between the bare walls, carrying up the stairwell.

At the end of her descent, she found an iron gate. Whatever the Burgesses had ferreted away, they feared it. But she’d have time to find her own fears in just a moment. First things first. An important life lesson, even in darkest dungeons.

Especially in darkest dungeons, actually.

She didn’t look through the bars, keeping her focus on the lock. Bolted from the inside, a simple keyhole begged for a pick or a spell to let her pass. It wasn’t her area of expertise, but the mechanism had soaked up decade up on decade of magic, and it was nearing the tipping point between magical artefact and mundane tool. Magic stained everything in the basement, to the point she wondered if she might see her own footprints lingering, like marks on a sandy beach down the stairs.

Johanna had taught her a few tricks to handle locks over the years, and this one begged for something more than traditional keys. She slipped her fingers between the bars, resting her finger over the keyhole as she listened for what it wanted. It asked for something. It was tired of standing guard for so, so long, and it just wanted a reason, an excuse even, to let go. It wanted a fucking rest.

Poor old thing.

She found a word, matched it to her intent, and whispered.

“Deditionem.”

The lock turned with a creaking groan, and the gate sighed open on rusty hinges.

Sparks rippled like fire through her chest, and she shoved her hands deep in her pockets to stop herself from rubbing the ache.

She was not alone.

Her eyes swung along with the gate, drawn to the bright center of the dungeon, where a prisoner sat in a glass cage, like a hollow moon in the void of the underground.

Human eyes might’ve mistaken the hostage for a man, and damn if he didn’t look like one. A beautiful one. But she saw something more.

Even in the smothering dark of the cellar, his shadows glowed sharp. Threats whispered through the angles of his stiff posture, and the stars in his eyes glittered red.

He sat like a king, straight and cold, holding himself apart from the petty creatures who’d snared him with dignity and poise of inexhaustible grace.

He’d already noticed her. Unblinking eyes fixed on her face, unimpressed, but attentive. Not friendly in the least.

She held the staring contest for a full minute before she snapped, lashes fluttering as she floundered for something to say, not quite ready to look away.

“Hi.”

Inspirational. Truly.

Still, it broke the standoff – or at least the quiet – and she moved further into the room, looking over the moat, the glass cage, the arcane circle painted on the floor. Her eyes stayed on the restraints. The… whatever he was sat very naked in that globe, and she’d gladly bet it wasn’t voluntarily. That gave her plenty of reasons to look away, and a beautiful excuse to avoid as much eye contact as possible.

She made a full circuit, and though he didn’t turn more than his head to watch her, his attention prickled. Her own footsteps haunted her, filling the room like a shadow army. If he wasn’t going to participate in a conversation, well, she wasn’t above talking to herself.

“You are angry.” Somehow, he sat even straighter, and she tripped over herself to explain. “I don’t blame you. If I was in your position, I’d be pissed, too. But I have to be… careful.”

She squinted at the golden circle, baffled by the sigils. She needed a better look.

Backing away from the edge of the moat, she got a running start and jumped over the long pit. It was a close thing, and her arms pinwheeled on the brink of a fall. Gravity took pity on her, and after tipping back and forth on the balls of her feet, she recovered her balance.

There wasn’t much space on the island, and she found herself very near the glass – and very near the entity within. He regarded her with the same, impassive judgement, but one eyebrow had drifted higher than the other. He didn’t need to speak to tell her she was an idiot. There was a bridge, after all, between his island and the rest of the basement floor.

She shrugged. “Never trust the obvious.”

Never trust clear routes when their owners had reason to boobytrap them. Never trust pretty men kept under glass.

Looking away before she got lost in those starry eyes, she crouched at the edge of the symbols trapping him. She recognized most of them, but the configuration eluded her. A summoning circle, but for what? All she could see was what it couldn’t do.

“You’re no demon,” she muttered to the floor. “You’d have offered a deal by now. Or a few choice threats. Hellfire, and brimstone, and all.”

The quiet remained undisturbed as her voice faded, and the pressure mounted in her chest. Trying to soothe the sting, she let herself rub over the invisible damage, aware she was revealing a weakness, but even more aware of the gross imbalance of power. She could strip down and show him every scar, tell him every mistake she’d ever made, and it wouldn’t make him any more powerful. It wouldn’t help him out of his cage, either.

Too quiet. She needed to think. As her fingers skated in a figure-eight above her heart, she continued her debate aloud.

“You’re beyond any dream or nightmare I’ve ever met. I doubt you’re a djinn or a faerie.”

She looked up with a question blooming on her lips and froze in place.

He’d moved.

As she studied the magic keeping him prisoner, he’d shifted closer, balancing with one hand against the glass as he scrutinized her. His burning gaze dared her to look away again, demanding something, and for an instant, she forgot how to breathe.

He had hair like the night wind. She imagined if she broke the glass, that wind would become more than a metaphor, sweeping the world clean of the house, the people inside, and any soul foolish enough to earn his wrath through the long years of his imprisonment.

She didn’t need to know the entity’s name to feel his presence, the chained power ringing through his cage. Whoever – whatever – the Burgesses trapped, they had good reason to fear setting it free. When the defenses fell, that power would tear through the immediate vicinity like a river breaching a dam. Intelligent eyes tracked her, analyzed her, judged her. But a force of nature sat in that bubble. Not a man.

Pieces of an old story sat around her, and she took her time, anxious as they grew into a simple tale. Roderick Burgess snared a power beyond himself, confident in the way men looked at mountains and saw gold, the way clever folk tamed lightning and harnessed the wind. But he’d miscalculated. This creature moved in spheres beyond mortal reasoning. He trapped his family with a curse, a burden they could never release, that would never bow to bargaining. Something that never should’ve been locked away in the first place.

And now she’d gotten tangled up in its wyrd, according to her cards.

She must be very careful if she wanted to survive this. Intact. Wrath had a tendency to spill over on bystanders, and she stood very close to the boiling cauldron.

Holding that demanding gaze, she said, “I’m going to help you. Whatever you are, I don’t think you belong in there.”

Doubt soured his expression, but some of the red faded from the stars. He heard her. He was listening. And he was jaded as all hell. She wasn’t the first to make promises.

“I am going to get you free. But –”

He sat up again, hand still on the glass, to peer down his nose in naked distain.

She scoffed. Gods. All men-shaped things really were the same. Proud, impatient bastard. “Calm down and let me finish.”

Whatever the summoning circle’s origin, it stank of fragile, dead magic. It remained as a rule, but nothing living fueled its power, and she could break it easily.

As she drew her athame from the sheath at the small of her back, she continued, “I don’t think I want to be here when you get out. Like I said, you’re angry, and I have people depending on me.”

She held the blade up so he could see it, and she wondered if he could feel her comparatively feeble magic as she lifted it across the magical boundary. Simply cutting the air over the marks weakened them, and she saw him stiffen, nostrils flaring before she bent to finish the job.

Her athame was beautiful – a steel dagger crafted in a friend’s forge. Silver filigree twisted down the blade like a gale between seven-pointed stars, and lacey wormwood leaves glittered in the same material over the handle. The basement air left the shapes cool against her sweaty palm.

The tip touched stone just within the ring, and she pulled the sharp edge through the concentric rings of gold paint in a clean stroke, encountering no resistance as she severed the lingering power. The fine cut was invisible to the naked eye, but the magic crumbled like a dead leaf under a boot.

Smirking to herself, she tucked away the dagger and gleefully thought of how upset old Burgess would be. No wonder the family needed two damn guards to protect such shitty casting.

Her eye wandered back to the entity, and she slowly rose to her feet, rubbing her chest as he stared with wide eyes.

He looked like she’d slapped him. Surprise mingled with awe or horror. He wasn’t easy to read. But it wasn’t gratitude glowing in his expression.

Something had happened.

Did she do something?

Her heart was on fire.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

He didn’t answer, though his lips parted. Either he wanted to speak and had forgotten how, or he feared to share his thoughts, though they begged to escape into the open air.

It wasn’t her business. She took two steps back, sweeping the glass sphere for signs of a latch or door. It looked like it had been built around him. Hell. It probably was. Like Wendy in the little house the Lost Boys made her, but so much worse.

The cosmos in his gaze stirred, swirling like a whirlpool as the fire under her skin continues burning. Dangerous. This was dangerous. He was dangerous.

It was time to leave.

She’d done her part.

“If you need more help, you have to tell me.”

She had to check. The sphere and the circle clearly worked in tandem to keep the prisoner sealed away from the world, and breaking the sigils affected him somehow. Would he be able to break the second barrier on his own, or would she have to put herself at further risk?

He glanced at the sleeping guards. Looked her over again, eyes growing harder as he buried that raw shock she’d unwittingly triggered. The barest shift of his head relieved her of further responsibility.

“Fine. Good luck.”

One of the guards jolted in his sleep.

Oh, most definitely time to leave.

She risked the bridge on her way out. Faster that way. She didn’t look back as she pushed through the iron gate, didn’t hesitate on the steps, or in the hall, even when gunshots rang out below.

A burst of panic that had been hiding beneath the curiosity and pain sprang free, fraying her nerves with its teeth as she fled the manor. She took her waiting bag from the door to the gatehouse and sprinted down the dark road towards town.

The sun would find her miles away, on her way to someplace further still.

The tarot reading solved. The captive entity freed. Roderick Burgess forced to watch it all from limbo.

Now came the reckoning.

She had every reason to leave and not a single one to stay.

She could move on. She was very literally doing just that.

So why, as her feet pounded down the long gravel drive, did the scars in her chest burn to turn back?

Next Chapter

#morpheus x reader #morpheus x oc #sandman x reader #dream of the endless x reader

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wanderingaldecaldo · 2 months

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Tagged by @gloryride, @gamerkitten, @chevvy-yates, and @aggravateddurian to share something I'm working on. Thanks, chooms! Still leaning into the ADHD, so there's several things I'm working on simultaneously. Most recently it's been...

Modding

The cutoff vests are 95% done, just need a few touches before I can make them live on Nexus, so what better time to start a new modding project? 🙃 A friend mentioned wanting Vik's pants and I'm always looking for more butch clothes for Val especially ones that ride low on those hips but also the belt & tools seem like a fun project.

Unedited. Not bad for an hour's work ☺️

Both the pants and belt are simple replacers to start while I test. I have some clipping to deal with on the pants, but so far the weights look okay. 🤞

As for the belt, I lost the tools somewhere between Blender and Wkit lol. I wanted to take a go at texturing them in Substance Painter so I split them off into their own submesh. Not sure where I lost them but I'm sure they'll turn up again.

Writing

It's fitting that Durian tag me because my latest writing was incited by a scene in his fic "The President's Lady" in which Myers invites Sol and V to lunch at the White House. I'm going for a more, uh, traditional take on The Tower ending than he is, using my fave angst, combined with some good ol' longing and probably some flashback smut. I've been canoodling on this in my notebook since Durian's chapter came out, writing a bit each night before falling asleep. I started transcribing it just for this post, so here are 315 of 338 words, hot off the Google Docs.

Some backstory: The second time I played Phantom Liberty I beelined to Dogtown, and skipped meeting the Aldecaldos and doing pretty much anything past finishing the VDBs quests. Vik was the only one who called, and she decided to take Sol up on his offer of a job at Langley. Soon after she's back in DC, she gets an invite to lunch from President Myers.

“Thank you, Madam President.” “V, please. No need to be so formal. I believe we’re well past that now.” “Heh, just a few weeks ago, told you—” “Yes, V,” she cries out, breath hot against her neck— Stopping, Rosalind turns to look at her, eyebrows and lines of her forehead drawing to a point, as if finally she recognizes V for who she still is. “I suppose that really was like yesterday for you.” The lines soften and she leads V to a sofa across the room, gesturing for her to sit first, then sits close and takes her hand. Long, graceful fingers teasing her skin— V stares down at her hand in Rosalind’s, her arms blank of cyberware still a disconcerting sight, but she doesn’t pull away. “How are you feeling? I can’t imagine the news was easy to hear.” “No, wasn’t,” she says with a shake of her head. “Thought I was gonna die a merc but now....” “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to tell you myself. Solomon suggested it would lead to too many questions among the staff. He’s right of course, but I still feel I let you down.” V frowns. “Ma’am?” “You weren’t my agent for long, but that doesn’t mean you weren’t important. What you did...” Rosalind trails off, eyes dipping to her mouth before she drops her gaze to their hands on her lap. Her nails are still perfectly polished, buffed to a shine. She looks up and says, “I’ll never be able to repay you for all that you did for me.” V down looks at their linked hands then, heart pounding, she leans forward to kiss her, as if she’s just any other woman, not the most powerful in the world, and Rosalind tilts her head and parts her lips and— She swallows and shakes her head. “You did, though. Least as far as I’m concerned.”

Tagging with the usual no pressure disclaimer: @medtech-mara @breezypunk @streetkid-named-desire @peaches-n-screem @rosapexa @luvwich @merge-conflict @steelscorner @ghostoffuturespast @byberbunk2069 and YOU!

Take this as an invitation to share something you're working on and tag me! Doesn't have to be Cyberpunk, or anything fandom-related!

#cyberpunk 2077 #valerie vermilion #streetkid!val #rosalind myers #myers x v #myers x fem v #wlw ship #milfguard #aka president's merc au #wash's writing #mods i made #tag game #wip wednesday #wip whenever #thanks chooms!!#also i really had fun making that banner in ~30min lol

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streets-in-paradise · 8 months

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The Road So Far - Andy Barclay x (Fem) Winchester!Reader

Warnings: Slight crossover with Supernatural, part of my unfinished crossover series starting in Childs Play 3 where the reader is a Winchester sibling and has a personality resemblance with Gabriel. This oneshot includes a discussion on Chucky's bizzare journey through the lenses of the supernatural lore.

Summary: Andy revisits with you how far Chucky has come and your perspective introduces plenty of new concerns for him. From the exponential escalation in the vision of the doll's plans you inspire him a question he had never asked to himself before.

Is a Chucky that keeps coming back to life no matter what actually worse or better than one accepting his place in hell ?

Tags: @losersclubisms ( i'm posting this for you. I wouldn't have dared to do it if it wasn't for your excitement when i told you about it)

It was often believed that hunter’s first case could remain with them forever, referring to the role of personal revenge and obsession possibly marking the path of their careers. Andy Barclay could be a poster boy for that slogan, but he could also be the joke of the community. Even among insane people chasing monsters he would be an outcast, underestimated as heavily as his nemesis was. It was unbelievable that the killer doll could keep coming back, what in the philosophy of hunting had to be a failure of the man in charge of keeping him down. At the eyes of the others Andy would be assumed to be terrible at hunting because a possessed toy kept escaping him no matter how many times he would get to kill him. For obvious reasons he avoided all sorts of networking for the job. Isolated and obsessed is how he preferred to do his thing,

At least in that, he was a bit like your father and you hated letting Freud win. The sweet boy you once met in the military school, your first infatuation, had at least some sense of normality he wanted to reclaim for himself. The man he had become was a complete mess lost to the lifestyle: he lived in a cabin armed to the teeth, and had mastered several methods of torture. He was a freak, too threatening for the normals but not enough for the hunters, and you were insanely attracted to him. Even since you reconnected the realization kept hitting harder the more time you spent with him.

The little redhead bastard did his magic creating a situation so chaotic and unsustainable that Andy had to finally accept help.

“ So,what’s the fucker’s game now? If you ask me, this erratic shit seems to point in so many directions.” You were theorizing out loud with him. “ Multiple dolls and now human possession happening simultaneously ? He is expanding and we have no idea of how many branches he has opened already. Did you get any public statements from the Chucky.Inc headquarters? “

The way in which you referred to the Chucky head showed you haven’t lost your touch over the years.

“ Nothing, apart from some loud, nice screaming.”

The sinister comment got him an approbation smirk from you.

“ I’m gonna have to make you an indecent proposal.” Was your playful reply. “ You, me. A weekend in New Orleans to learn some new tricks and get back in the game. What do you say? I know of your no magic assistance policy, but you can’t continue like this. How many times are you going to fight spellwork with knives and bullets? Even the most close minded hunters go alternative from time to time. I’m not the witch of the family, that’s Sam, but the little I know I have learned from him.”

He got lost at some point of your rambling because he couldn’t believe what he sensed in your tone. Not because he couldn't expect it from you, but due to the context in which it emerged.

“ Are you hitting on me right here and now? In the middle of this? ”

The response he obtained was even more provocative.

“ That depends … Are you up for it?

He groaned with frustration, wondering why he bothered to call you.

“ Andy, my dear. It’s so cute when I can still sense the naive boy deep inside of you.“ You mocked him sweetly. “ Hunters can do both, doing the research is a code for you know what …”

“ I may be a bit behind in your cultural slang, but I’m definitely not naive. “ He rapidly replicated. “ I need you focused, Winchester, so stop the tease.”

The subtle evocation to the old times made you chuckle.

“ Sure, general! We are going to war. The problem is … With what kind of weaponry? I can’t just get holy water, buy a pack of flour and hope for the best while the little menace keeps upgrading the mojo. We are completely unprepared, so we also need to update the methods.”

“ We can’t, there is no time. “ He insisted. “ Each moment we spend preparing means more bodies he would be dumping.”

There was no easy way to explain what you just had to tell him. He had a very micro approach of the problem, struggling to see the bigger picture, and over the course of your life the pile of crap following your last name had already forced you to adopt a macro view.

“ I hate to say this because I know I sound like a senseless bitch, but there is so much more at risk if the cult keeps growing. I’m talking of an invasion of clones. Your little overlooked problem can become a worldwide threat if it begins to spread like a disease. Chucky could become the Alpha for a new brand of monsters, so I really need a plan more sustainable than bullets and an industrial fan this time.”

At least then he could tell you were completely focused, but it was enough to alarm him even more than he already was.

“ You mean Chucky as the father of an entire race?” Andy summarized in an ask. “ There would be vampires, werewolves and Chuckies? Is that what you mean? Why don’t we start with the bassics before you make me freak out? What do you know about soul splitting?”

A delicate topic you unfortunately know very much about.

“ I know what happens when you lose your soul, I have seen the full process from very close and I can tell you it’s no game. What truly makes you be yourself is not there anymore, or at least part of it seems gone. Chucky is a heartless prick, so I guess the most shocking aspect of soulessness wouldn’t do much on him, but it could still affect his personality. We can imagine that the more he splits, the more of himself he loses and there will be a point where there would be nothing left. The vessels would not be clones anymore reflecting this lack of original substance and this is when a herd could start becoming a race.”

“ You have to be fucking kidding me! ” He cursed out loud. “ How screwed could we be by now? “

Your attempt to comfort him with some hipotetical positivity wasn't as good as you judged it.

“ It could be worse, he could have faced his fate and embraced hell like he embraced the doll body. He would eventually become a demon and he would not need any chants to make the posessions. "

The comment was delivered so cassually, but the effect those words had in him were a groundbreaking discovery. So simple, yet never considered.

If Chucky would die once and for all, he would go to hell but even from down there he could still keep causing damage to the living.

" So, one way or another he still gets to possesss people.Even if the doll would be gone forever."

It was a door you never should have opened.

" Well, demons can be killed but you have to count with the ríght weapons. The bright side is that the demonification process can take a long while in hell and currently most low rank demons are bureaucrats answering to a central power. Chucky would hate it, he can't follow orders. He wants to be obbeyed …."

You stopped yourself at the edge of your conclussion for an even darker realization.

" He would destabilize hell untill getting crowned king. " Andy finished it for you. " If he wouldn't be wasting time up here, as a demon he could have made it to the top of their hierarchy. "

" He is persistent, insane, power hungry and patient enough for me to see it happening " You confessed ríght away. " It took centuries for Crowley, but i don't know how long it would take him. Chucky has proven to evolve at a considerably high speed. It only took him a few decades to become a latent massive threat."

He didn't know how to feel. Was his eternal struggle a protective sacrifice? Was he doomed to a lifetime of keeping Chucky distracted so he wouldn't find out there were bigger, cosmic scale evil goals he could achieve by accepting death?

" Should we comfort ourselves with that? Does he need to keep coming back to life as a doll so he wouldn't realize he has the potentiality to destroy the universe or something?"

" It's more complex than that, he would fuck up cosmic balance with his self centered revenge based rulling style and make life miserable for many many living and dead beings. " You carefully explained. " For example: the base of my family's survival for a long time has been sick pacts to keep each other alive because we are hipocrites. If Chucky rules, he owns our asses. He could also coronate his victory taking you as vessel, although at least I gotta say your body would look very nice in one of those kingpin suits. "

You exceeded the límits, accidentally forgetting that he had never gone through that and still reasonably feared it.

" I'll never let that happen to you, ok? " You reassured him, subtly moving to hold his hand. " Not by demon Chucky or regular Chucky. I'm actually proud you have made it so far intact and we are going to keep it that way. You know what? Since Kyle is on this too, I can call my brothers for backup and make it a full family thing."

It was kind of sweet, but the idea intimidated him.

" Your celebrity status, expert brothers? No thanks. It would be embarrasing. "

" Don't worry, I feel insecure arround your normal sister so I think we are on the same page. "

The confession surprised him and you found yourselves giving reassuring advice to each other. It felt nice, specially when you trapped him in a tender hug showing genuine affection.

#chucky #supernatural #andy barclay #alex vincent #andy barclay x reader #andy barclay x winchester reader

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powdermelonkeg · 1 year

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Hello,

I'm sorry for the question but I'd like to know for your 50/50 poll if that is actually something Tumblr users have achieved or if you can modify polls to always show 50/50

Cause damn i voted randomly and I couldn't see the options at all, can you revote on a poll?

Gonna answer these in reverse order:

Nope, you can't revote on a poll. Once it's cast, it's cast, no takebacks.

I can't modify the polls whatsoever after they're posted. Like, at all. Can't even add tags to them, change the title, etc; that's put in place on purpose so that people can't change what the poll's supposed to be voting for mid-vote. (It's actually a little frustrating because I can only use polls if they're submitted to me, and if I accidentally set them for 24 hours instead of a week, I have to delete the poll and use up a new one) On the 50/50—that happened completely by chance! I've had two polls that very much toe the 50/50 line, this blank one and this snail one.

In the case of the snails, people were motivated to balance them. The title gave a clear goal: "They’re trying to tie so they can share the 1st place medal." Towards the beginning, it was unbalanced pretty wildly, then as more and more people blindly voted for whichever they thought was in the losing spot, it evened out to 50/50, and each "wrong" vote that skewed it wouldn't be enough to shift it a full percentage.

Think of it this way. If I hold out my hands, and one hand has two grains of rice, and the other has five, it's pretty easy to see that the hand that has 5 grains has more rice. If you have, instead, two BAGS of rice, whether or not one or the other has 3 extra grains doesn't really matter anymore, because the weight and space they take up gets lost among the rest.

The snail vote actually skews ever-so-slightly towards the bottom snail. You can see this on mobile, because mobile shows fractions of a percent in the actual bar measure—the bottom snail is a few pixels ahead. But it's just that: fractions of a percent. Tumblr likes whole numbers, so it rounded 50.003% (not the actual number, just a guess) down to 50%, and 49.997% up to 50%, making them appear even.

The reason I bring up the motivation part is because, whenever the snail poll DID skew a full percent, everyone started to tag it to let people ahead know about it. "Bottom snail is at 51%! Everyone vote top snail!" And I assume their followers listened to that advice. If you read through the notes of that post, you can see that in action.

The blank post is doing this COMPLETELY organically. Since neither option actually contains anything, there's a negligible amount of bias towards one particular answer. YOU might think of pressing the bottom answer first because you felt like it, but the NEXT person might just click the first answer they see, and so on. There's no reason why one blank option should be favored over the other, so it isn't.

As of typing this, the blank poll is at nearly 18k votes; I'm sure it sways one way or another by fractions of a percent, just like the snail poll. But because the bias towards either answer is basically nonexistent, the vast majority of people split into 50/50 again.

It's literally a coin flip. A coin has two faces with equal chances of landing, no matter which one you feel obligated to call.

#ask bee #science!#real coffee hours #trust me if there was an exploit to make polls swing the exact way you wanted them to that would be hammered the hell out of #mostly to make dicks out of polls #but especially in the case of ones where the user is trying to prove a point #like 'which is the best fruit' or 'who's the best sexyman'#it would be a headline and @changes would have mentioned it as a bug #i can't even see the exact number of votes on each option #and if /i/ could rig a poll i made it would be to either make everyone vote 'october' on my days of the week poll #or to skew the 'blue/green' poll towards green for the joke

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stellalunatmblr · 2 years

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The Flower Path | Chapter 1

Genre/Tags: isekai (kinda?), bangtan x fem!reader, not poly, oc!bestfriend, surprise romantic pairings; slow burn, fluff (will update tags along the way)

Status: Ongoing

Summary: What would you feel if you find yourself transported to the world of a cheesy web novel? Ecstatic, of course (well, among other things), except you’re stuck being the main character’s best friend slash sidekick. Fair enough, you don’t think you’re main character material anyway. Determined to get through your life that has changed all of a sudden, you try to keep yourself in the shadows of your “best friend.” Let’s just try to get through the last year of high school in peace. You thought it was gonna be easy – like a walk in a flower path– but the thing about walking that road is that there are bound to be thorns along the way.

Inspired by the web novel and manhwa: Inso’s Law

Word Count: 7k

Chapter Note: i accidentally deleted the original post for chapter 1 ㅠ so here's the repost

[please read the prologue before reading this]

masterlist

You feel your head spinning and you try to take deep breaths to keep yourself grounded. Breathe in, breathe out.

You feel someone nudge your arm and you face a friendly looking girl that had a sash that said student assistant.

"The stadium is this way, just follow the rest of the students. You should be able to see the lines for the senior classes on the right side of the stadium." She raised her arm to point towards a huge building that you were pretty sure wasn’t there when you were given a tour. But then again, nothing has been completely the same since this morning, and you’re trying to slowly come to terms with it.

You find yourself holding on tighter to the straps of your bag and forcing yourself to step towards where the other students were headed. You feel the busting energy of their excitement and hear their loud conversations, as if they’ve been apart from their peers for years before this. You felt the spirit of the first day of school truly alive in these grounds.

You don’t think the two boys who accompanied you to the gates noticed your departure, because right after finding out what class you were all in, they were suddenly surrounded by students who wanted to introduce themselves to them.

When you reach the right place, you muster the courage to tap the shoulder of someone in the area the student assistant was pointing you towards. The girl was having an animated conversation with what seemed to be her close friends before she turned to you.

"Can I ask where the line is for class 4?" You politely inquire.

Her eyes seemed to brighten up at what you said.

"You’re from class 4? Oh, I'm so jealous! I heard the seven princes of Kkotgil are all in that same section this year." She replied. Seven what? You cringed.

"Uhm.." you started off, not really knowing what to say to that. "So where is it again?" you ask again, hopefully this time she’s more helpful.

She glanced over her shoulder and rolled her eyes playfully when her friends got caught up in conversation about what she just said.

"This is the line for class 2," she pointed at herself and her friends. "The girls of class 4 are lined up two lines from ours." She pointed you towards the direction at the far right, and you bowed in gratitude before proceeding to where it was.

As you stand in line, more students start to enter and line up in their respective classes inside the stadium. You allow your eyes to become unfocused and you get lost in thought.

Everything has changed, well, mostly. You were still you; so was your dad, your room, your house, and your apartment building. Yet somehow, for some reason, a lot of things that weren't supposed to be were just there. You close your eyes tightly and try to think about the exact things that led up to this morning.

Yesterday, what happened yesterday?

Let's see... The day before this, I had breakfast with my dad before he left for work, lounged around all day, had dinner with dad when he got home, decided to clean up in the kitchen, got sweaty, and went to my room to change.

And then I saw the book. The novel my dad bought for me, and I read it all night before falling asleep halfway through it. Your brows scrunched. That’s basically it. You didn’t think there was anything particularly strange that would’ve led to all of these strange events.

You think you feel someone staring at you from somewhere when you finally snapped your eyes open, but when you turn to see who it was, you stop as soon as you see light brown hair in your peripheral vision before looking away again. You didn’t really want to deal with Minyoung right now.

You snap out of your thoughts when you hear squeals from all around you.

"It's the seven princes of Kkotgil!"

"Look at them! They’re all so handsome!"

"Class 4 is so blessed to have them all for this year."

"You know it's going to be a good year when you only have to go to one classroom to see all of the seven princes!"

You raised your brows at that. What the fuck are these people saying? You stand on your tiptoes and look around towards where the rest of the student body is facing.

Your eyes widened at the sight. Holy shit. You were pretty sure the world went into slow motion when a group of guys entered the stadium, and you blinked your eyes quickly when you thought you caught a glimpse of red and mint hair among– more colored-haired dudes?

You hear more high-pitched screams, and it makes you cover your ears with both your hands momentarily. You absolutely hate the noise.

You rolled your eyes and turned around to face the front, where you saw a teacher struggling to get the students’ attention again, saying that the principal was going to come up and start his speech soon.

You chuckle at the scene. This is all so ridiculous. Screaming and fangirling over your fellow students? What are they, celebrities? You look down and cover your giggle again with a hand. You swear, these things only happen in dramas or animes. Or perhaps you've read something similar in mangas or even novels—wait a minute.

Your laugh suddenly fades and you pause. This seems exactly like what you read about in novels, like that one you read the night before.

You gasp. Am I onto something?

You look around amongst the chaos, and that's exactly when you notice something. Everyone seemed so... normal. Ordinary. And that wouldn’t be strange if it weren’t for the fact that your world was turned upside down this morning. It was strange, because everyone seemed to look so ordinary, except...

Except Minyoung and the seven guys, who currently had the attention of everyone in the vicinity. You think it's because of their exceedingly (and honestly quite unrealistic) good looks as well as the unique colors of their hair.

You feel your heartbeat race and your ears ring.

Did I… did I just get transported into the world of a web novel? Then, according to your theory, the main characters would be Minyoung and the seven guys.

You choke on your own spit. Is this a reverse harem novel? You scoffed. And I'm not even the main character? Damn it. So close, yet so far.

You start to feel lightheaded again, almost wanting to smack yourself with the crazy theory you just came up with. But you hold onto it. You need to believe in something, even if it's not exactly what’s happening, because otherwise you might start acting reckless and try to do things to try to prove that this isn’t really your reality.

It’s not even farfetched. All of these were too crazy to be reality, yet too realistic to be a dream. It would make sense (not really) that, for some reason, you were now in a world of clichés and, apparently, good-looking people with bright colored hair. You weren’t one of them, though.

Things finally settled down when a different, stricter-sounding teacher stepped up on stage to try and quiet everyone down. You see a woman walk past you into the front of the line where you were, and you hear someone say something about Miss Jang being your homeroom teacher for the year. She smiles at her students from the front.

The principal was introduced, and you absentmindedly clapped along with the others, and as he started his speech, you saw some shuffling from the people in front of you. You take a small side step to look at what’s happening, and you see Minyoung slowly making her way towards where you are by exchanging places with each of the people in front of you.

Your eyes widened and you made a move to turn around when you remembered that the boys from your class were lined up there, so you decided against it in case Hobi saw you.

When you turned back to face the front again, Minyoung was already in front of you.

She gave you a nervous smile. "I’m sorry, I know you don’t want to be near me right now for some reason, but I just really need you." She glanced around quickly before looking back at you.

"You know how I hate it when people stare," she says in a small voice.

You looked around and sure enough, students, girls and boys alike, gave her attention like the one you saw them give the boys at the back earlier.

For the first time that day, you actually felt for the girl. It must’ve been nerve wracking to have all this attention on her, but she couldn't do anything because, well, like you thought, she was most likely the main character. Her nature would quite literally prevent her from having a peaceful life. For a second, you thought that keeping your distance from her would be a good idea.

You gave her a nod.

"No, I- I don’t mind. You can step closer to me." You asked, and she complied, hiding herself in your shoulders beside you. Now the attention that was on her has turned to you as well. You sighed.

I need a game plan, you thought. If I were to survive this, whatever this is, I’m gonna need to lie low as much as possible, even if I'm supposedly Minyoung – the main character’s – best friend.

But how exactly am I going to do that?

For now, you decide you will steer clear of other people with brightly colored hair. That’s good enough for now.

Following the principal's speech and a few more speeches from faculty and student government members, the students are led away and into their respective buildings. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. It was exhausting, tolerating these stares, and they weren't even directed at you.

Soon enough, it was your class's turn to be led to your building and classroom. You hear Miss Jang’s cheery voice asking everyone to follow her lead.

You hate yourself for being too nice because as you entered the high school building and walked through the hallways, you took notice of Minyoung trying to make herself look smaller to avoid all those gazes from the other students. You took her arm and hooked it up with yours.

You sighed, not turning to face her. "It’s fine, I’m here. Sorry for acting weird this morning." You see her brighten up (almost literally, like flashing lights and all) and give you a big smile from your peripheral vision.

You chuckled at her reaction. Maybe she isn’t so bad after all. Well, the chances of her being "bad" would most likely be impossible. The main characters are usually nice and perfect.

You continue walking alongside her until you reach the classroom. You glanced at the wooden door sign that sat atop of the door frame that said YEAR 3-CLASS 4 and entered the doors.

You decide to separate from Minyoung for a while to find your respective seats, though it wasn't for long because you noticed your name tag at the seat next to hers, with only the walking aisle separating the two of you.

You peeped at the name tag of the seat right next to your left and it was a name you didn’t recognize. You let out a breath of relief. No Hobi or Mr. Grumpy Pants. You carefully hooked your bag on the side of the table.

Your peace was disrupted all too soon when you heard several voices in the hallway heading towards your room. It all made sense when you saw the boys’ line start to enter the classroom, and it seemed like they didn’t even notice or just didn’t pay attention to the audience that the seven boys at the back of the line brought with them.

The students in the hallway who weren't allowed to enter the classroom (because, duh, it wasn’t their classroom) settled on looking through windows in the hall instead.

You think you don’t have to worry about any of the sevens (yes, that is what you decide to call them now. You absolutely refuse to call them the seven princes of Kkotgil. Ew.) taking notice of you since you weren't anyone of importance, but you still subtly tried to hide your face with your right hand and turned to the empty seat beside you.

You hear the hall monitor trying to disperse the crowd that had formed and trying to get them to go back to their respective classes. You also hear chairs scraping through the floor as your classmates start settling into their seats.

You tried to stay calm but couldn’t help the pounding of your heart. No more brightly colored hair near me, please. You kept repeating it in your mind.

You hear Minyoung call out to you in a gentle voice, seeming to have detected your agitation. You turned to look at her and quickly stood up, your chair emanating a loud scrape as you did.

You decide to head towards Miss Jang, who was still at the front door trying to help manage the crowd of students, to ask to be excused to the bathroom to regroup your thoughts because while things were starting to make sense, they were still very overwhelming for you.

Miyoung seemed to have noticed and made a move to stand up as well.

"Where are you going—"

But of course, as everything had been since the start of that day, nothing was going according to your plan. Not even a few steps in, you bump into someone’s shoulder.

You looked up to see pinkish hair – almost like a faded red color – on a doe-eyed boy who was staring coldly at you. You felt goosebumps run up your arm and down the back of your neck. He averted his gaze from you not even a second later and just huffed. He looked around the room, his eyes busy trying to find someone.

"Choi Minyoung, captain of the girls’ volleyball team. I heard she was in this class as well. Where is she?" His voice resonated throughout the classroom, and everyone was shushed.

You stepped back and resisted the urge to let out an audible gasp; the urge to have popcorn and a comfy chair to sit back and watch was strong as well.

Shit is about to go down. And I’m currently in the middle of it, literally! You felt a presence step up beside you.

"That’s me, why?" Minyoung said in a different tone from what she usually uses with you, as she took your arm and placed you protectively behind her.

The doe-eyed boy’s gaze hardened even more. "Your team took a big chunk of the volleyball club fund from the boys’ team last year," he said as his jaw ticked, and you would deem him attractive despite being angry if he wasn't being arrogant right now. Also, the fact that you think he is a potential love interest for your dear friend Minyoung made you feel like you can’t have those kinds of thoughts.

The girl beside you let out an annoyed scoff. "Took? We didn’t take anything from you. It's not our fault that you guys couldn't move to championships, so the faculty decided we deserved the bigger fund since we did."

You almost heard an "ooh" and a snicker from behind the doe-eyed boy, but you were too shocked by Minyoung’s change in demeanor to even pay attention to that.

Your eyes went wide. Damn, she is going off! You have no idea what their conversation is about, but you are surprised that the same girl who was hiding in your shoulders just a few moments ago is arguing with this guy. Talk about duality. You almost want to take out a notebook to start taking notes.

You wanted to cheer out loud for her, arms spread out holding pom poms and all, and you probably would have if it weren't for the fact that your classmates were murmuring around you.

"Who the hell is she to talk to the Jeon Jungkook like that?" You heard someone say, and you snapped your head towards them, making them look away.

Didn’t they just hear him? He said she was the girls’ volleyball team captain. I didn't know that either, but even I caught him saying that.

"We’ll see about that this year." The boy – who they called Jungkook – said with an arrogant smile.

"We’re going to get back those funds and make our way to championships. Hell, we'll even make our way to nationals." He declared proudly.

You heard high-pitched voices cheer for him as he said that and you rolled your eyes. These people... really?

Jungkook seemed to have caught the action, and he turned his gaze on you. He raised a brow as a challenge, and you almost raised yours back to him when you remembered you were trying to stay away from any of the sevens, so you just turned away. You can hear him let out a satisfied chuckle.

Punk. If this was my old reality, I wouldn't have hesitated to whoop your ass. But alas, you stood aside in true side character fashion.

You wanted to pat yourself on the back for having that kind of discipline. The novel gods must be so proud of me.

Miyoung stepped to the side, protecting you from the boy’s line of vision, and you almost squealed and kissed her thanks. She chuckled sarcastically before uttering, "Good luck with that."

“Jungkook, that's enough,” said the guy behind him. Jungkook cleared his throat and looked back at his two other friends, a blonde boy and a silver-haired boy, and tilted his head toward the right of the classroom at the back, where you guess they were supposed to be seated.

The blonde boy nodded at him and gave you and Miyoung a sheepish smile before taking Jungkook’s shoulder and pushing him towards their seat.

Silver Boy, however, stalled behind and stepped closer towards you and your friend while scratching the back of his neck.

"Sorry about that, he just took it the hardest among us when we lost our place in the championship last year when he was the next in line to be captain." He gave you an apologetic smile.

"You must be Minyoung. I’m Taehyung." He introduced himself but didn't offer his hand for a shake, seemingly genuinely embarrassed about his friend’s action.

He turned to look at you. "You must be…" he waited expectantly. For a second, you had internal turmoil if you wanted to give him your name or not, but he was looking at you with such determination that it was hard to do the latter.

"___." You said flatly, and he gave a smile in return. It seemed pretty genuine too. He looked back again at both you and your friend.

“Nice to meet you both. Hopefully it was in better circumstances, but.." he trailed off, and Minyoung nodded in understanding. "Since we’re in the same class this year, I hope we all get along soon." He bowed his head a little before going to follow his friends.

Minyoung sighed and turned to you. "Are you okay?" Her voice was laced with concern. You gave her a small smile.

You should really avoid being with her when she gets these kinds of encounters. You did not like it one bit at all. It would be better to just stay as an audience.

"Yeah, I was going to excuse myself to the bathroom, but I changed my mind now." You tapped her on the shoulder and returned to your seat without tearing your eyes off of her area, just to give her assurance because the girl seemed to want to stick you to her side just so she really knew you were okay.

How can I not be okay though? She literally did all the talking.

Well, as a main character, that was her thing, so no surprise there.

As you sat, you rubbed your eyes rather aggressively. Just when you decide you are going to avoid all of the sevens, you run into not just one, but three of them. I didn't even need to pee, I just wanted to get away and think. Why didn't I just stay in my seat to think? You argue with yourself foolishly. Is it the fate of a side character that nothing ever goes her way? Well, between you and Minyoung, you're guessing she gets all the luck after all.

Miss Jang finally stepped up to the front desk and reintroduced herself to the class. "I know everyone here as I’ve been your teacher before, even if you were all in different sections, so there’s no need for an introduction from you. I guess you can do that amongst yourselves in your own time." She said,

"Now, shall we start electing a class representative before you all get to know each other to elect a proper class president?" She prompted and swept her eyes across the class.

You heard a windshield wiper laugh emanate from the front of the classroom. "Will that be necessary, ma’am? We have Kim Namjoon in this class." and you see his seatmate nudge him. "Stop it, Jin."

The class starts to agree and talk among themselves, but you tune every single one of them out.

If this is going to work, I need to familiarize myself with the sevens so I can avoid them easily.

You turn to face the area where Jungkook and his entourage were seated, in the rightmost aisle of seats. Silver, blond, and strawberry blonde. Okay, that’s three.

You then turned to look at the front of the classroom, where in the middle aisle, two more hair colors stood out like a sore thumb. Purple, purple-pink. That’s five.

You swept your gaze across the room again, growing more agitated the longer you didn't see two familiar colors. Your hand starts to fidget with your uniform’s tie when you feel a tap on your right shoulder. You turned to the person who was seated behind you, and your eyes almost bulged from their sockets.

"What are you looking for, ___?" You almost asked how he knew your name when you didn't remember introducing yourself to him when you met earlier, but then you remembered he saw you point at it when you were looking for your name in the class list.

"H-hobi. You're sitting there." You said, dumbfoundedly, and he chuckled in response. "Yep!"

You slowly turned to your right, Hobi's left, as people in horror films do when they hear strange noises coming from their creepy houses. To your bewilderment, cat-like eyes stared back at you.

Seven.

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

Miss Jang went over the school and class rules, which were "to be followed strictly," after she decided, through a majority of voting, that Namjoon should represent the class as President. It seemed the guy just had that kind of reputation among his peers.

Oddly enough, you hear nothing about rules on hair colors when you are pretty sure it was written in bold black letters in the school rule book. Well, not in this universe, you guess. According to the rules of web novels, the lighter and more obnoxious the hair, the more important the character. Or that’s what you think, at least.

After that, everything was pretty much a blur to you.

You stayed sat stiffly in your seat, not wanting to turn even a little bit because you were surrounded by the sevens and Minyoung. (That’s an exaggeration, but whatever, you can afford to be dramatic in these situations.) So, when the bell rang for lunch break, you were the first to gather your things and sprint outside of the classroom. You didn’t really know these walls, but there was an odd sense of familiarity as you swiftly made your way through the hallway.

Minyoung’s voice bounced off the walls, and you turned around to quickly beckon her to come near you faster. She sped up her steps and whispered, "Why? What is it? Are we hiding from someone?" she asked.

"What? No, no – but we have to go quickly! " She let out a pleasing laugh. "Relax ___, they’re not going to run out of strawberry milk in the cafeteria."

You resisted the grin that tugged at your lips. I'm glad my love for strawberry milk – the superior flavored milk – transcends universes.

But that’s not the point right now! "No!" you said, too loudly as you had hoped. You toned down your voice and spoke again. "No, I mean—we absolutely can not go to the cafeteria right now." you stated.

"Why not?"

Cafeterias are like the hotspots of dramatic events in novels. You hoped you wouldn't have to go there at all.

You just shrugged. You took her hand and you could almost swear you saw her blush before you tugged her away.

"Fine. I know just the place." She said, before walking faster and leading you towards somewhere.

As you exited the building, you let her lead you to wherever she wanted to go, and you took that moment to observe your surroundings. You noticed how everything looked more vibrant and alive, the trees swinging even if there wasn't any noticeable breeze, the sunlight coming in streaks even though it was literally high noon. That kind of thing, you think, is what confirms your theory about the world. The real world isn't this colorful, you thought. And that's kind of sad.

As you neared the place Minyoung was talking about, your jaw dropped. There was a massive tree with purple leaves—PURPLE LEAVES! (because of fucking course there has to be a purple tree here)— and vibrant green grass surrounding it. It was conveniently placed and gave shade beside some stairs that led to another open field that you’re guessing is used for and during school programs. It seemed pretty empty at the moment, though.

"Hey, was it because Jungkook was bugging us earlier? I swear you don’t have anything to worry about with him." She assured you as she made both of you sit on the steps of the stairs.

Hm? Where did she get that idea? If anything, you were worried about her because she has to deal with him. You just settled on just shaking your head "no."

You unzipped your bag and took out the food your dad packed for you. "Here, my dad said we should share this." You hear her let out a joyful squeal and you giggle. A warm feeling spreads through your chest at that moment.

She dug in on her container of food, letting out a satisfied hum. You fiddle with your food a little before asking her something.

"Minyoung, if I asked you some weird questions right now, would you judge me?" She turned to look at you with a mouthful of waffles.

Seriously, how can she still look so graceful with her mouth full of food?

She chewed a little before swallowing. "I’m the last person that would ever judge you. I’m your best friend, remember?" You smiled in return.

Best friend. You never really had someone your age that you called that. The closest thing you ever had to a best friend were your parents. You were a tight-knit family, and you mostly spent your time going on adventures with them. Well, you used to.

You were always shy as a kid, and even as you grew up and made friends, you always found yourself being distant with them, not letting them be close enough to see the raw you. You don't know why, but you have always had that fear in you.

"Okay, so," you said, clearing your throat. "Just think of it as a friendship test."

She laughed before cracking her knuckles. "Bring it on," she replied jokingly.

"Since when have we been, uhm.. friends?" You cautiously asked, not wanting her to get suspicious with your inquiries.

"Best friends," she corrected, earning you a smile. "Hmm.. you moved next door the summer before freshman year, we happened to bump into each other at the bus stop, so we decided to make it a routine to go to school together. We’ve been doing that ever since. Or trying to dothat again." She said

Next door? We’re next door neighbors? But the elderly lady...

Your face turned sour. The lady next door who you smiled at when you passed by. Is she just gone? In this universe? You felt a pang in your chest. You cleared your throat again, as there was a lump that was threatening to rise up from it, tears almost successfully making their way out of your tear ducts.

Minyoung put her hand above yours. "Hey, it's okay. It was a huge fight we had recently, but we’re okay now." You try not to look confused as this was the second time she mentioned your "fight".

"Uhm.." you trailed off, thinking what to ask next. "You mentioned something about finally being in the same class?"

"Oh! Right. We're in the same year, but we’ve never actually been in the same class," she said with a cute pout. "That’s the reason why we always meet up under this tree when we have time." She looked up and caught a fallen leaf in her hand.

"Hmm.. about that conversation with Jungkook?" You prompted, and you saw her flash you a sad smile. "Ah, well," she scratched her head.

"The boys’ and girls’ teams weren’t really on bad terms, not even close either, but this summer, when they found out that the budget shifted in favor of us because of our win in the regionals last year, they went cold." She took a bite of some chicken skin, and the audible crunch resounded in the empty space around you. Wow, even chicken has magic here. How did that stay crispy after hours? Or maybe it's the power of your dad's cooking.

"I'm not even mad because his emotions are completely valid. I just hate how he dealt with it. You were there, and I'm embarrassed you had to see that." She added, and you thought she was too nice for her own good for thinking of it like that.

You hummed in response. Why was she worried about that? I’m supposedly her best friend. You smacked yourself in the head mentally. You were being unfair. You're not really treating her as a best friend right now either, especially this morning.

"Any more questions?" she said before taking a bite of her food again.

"No, I'm good for now." You both sat there in comfortable silence as you finished your food. You were cleaning up and putting the food containers back when you heard her phone buzz.

"Shoot, the coach wants to see me right now, so I have to go. Let’s just meet back at the classroom?" You gave her a reassuring smile, and you watched as she waved and walked away. You watch her retreating figure look smaller before standing and dusting yourself off.

You hook your backpack strap against one shoulder and start making your way back into the building. You were still being careful not to bump into any of the important people, but you got a bit careless because you weren’t with Minyoung and assumed people wouldn’t approach you when you weren't with her.

You were taking your time walking back to your building and you didn’t notice a redhead taking notice of your presence. He nudged his friend and he made him unwillingly be pulled towards your direction. You heard your name being called out by a cheerful voice, and you turned around in all directions to try to see who it was until your gaze landed on the two. Your eyes widened and you started power walking back. You think you heard a laugh and you saw them walk faster when they saw you do the same.

Just as you were about to take the first step towards the building entrance, your hand was pulled backwards, albeit gently, it still made you gasp a little.

"Why do you look like you’ve been so tense since we entered the campus? Did you do something bad? Are you hiding something?" Hobi joked as he let go of your hand when you finally turned to face him. "Uhm-no, no, it's just—" you have no idea what excuse to give him to get them to leave you alone.

He looked you in the eye and waited for you to continue, eyes sparkling in anticipation. You may have noticed that the main characters do that a lot with their eyes, albeit unintentionally. That's just how they’re built, you guess.

"No, I just haven't been back here for a while," you lie through your teeth, hoping he doesn't notice.

"Summer did feel quite long, no? But ___ …" He scooted closer and placed his arms around your shoulders and started walking towards your classroom, his friend Yoongi trailing just behind you two. "You told me this morning that you were a new student, but I asked around and you’ve been here since freshman year," he said with a pout. Cute, you thought briefly before shaking it off as soon as you thought it.

"Well, how come you didn't recognize me then?" You threw the question back at him, and he smiled sheepishly.

"Ah, I actually don't remember seeing you around here, sorry about that." He said the last phrase in a sing-song voice and it made you hide a chuckle.

Exactly. I am a forgettable face. You weren't supposed to remember or meet me until maybe this year, when we were placed oh so conveniently in the same section as the rest of the sevens and my "best friend" Minyoung.

As the rules of the universe of web novels have planned, of course.

You gave him a "see? I told you so" look and he retracted his arms from you to cross them against his chest and let out a huff, jokingly pouted lips jutted out.

You sigh and let him blabber on, your plan to avoid any of the sevens going down the drain way before you even tried to execute it. Am I supposed to just let things happen then? An ugly feeling boiled up against your stomach. Now that you’re part of this novel too, is your fate predetermined as well? Are you not able to change things if you wanted to?

You glanced back at Yoongi because you noticed he had been quiet the whole time. He had his eyes looking away, hands down in his pockets as he walked. You just shrugged and decided not to try to strike up any conversation with him when he clearly wasn’t fond of it. As you reached your room, you weren’t able to pass through the doors as they were blocked by broad shoulders.

"Access denied. You must answer before entering!" the boy exclaimed, and you could hear someone inside yell at him to "get out of their way, Jin!"

"Did you have a good first day lunch?" he asked with a smile, and the boy beside you promptly said yes. He turned to you, expecting an answer as well, so you just nodded. He decided it was good enough.

"Okay, you two pass." He stepped aside for you both, but as soon as you passed him, he blocked his body on the door again.

"No answer, no pass Min," he teasingly said, and you heard a huff from Yoongi. "Get lost, Jin." You think he would be offended, but to your surprise, he just laughed.

"Did you have a great lunch, Yoongi?" he asked in a softer tone this time. You see Yoongi look away and nod a little. Jin laughed again and tapped the other’s shoulder, and he entered the classroom with all of you.

As you reached your seat, Minyoung came bursting through the doors, screaming your name excitedly. You turned around and held her shoulder to stop her from jumping up and down.

"Why? What's going on?" Your face scrunched up in confusion.

"The spot is open! The spot for manager of the volleyball teams is vacant; you should apply for it!" she said expectantly, holding onto both of your hands. You stepped back a little.

"Why would I do that?" First of all, you don't think you’re even qualified. Second of all, you barely know anything about the sport.

"I think that's a great idea, Minyoung. Isn't this the first time you and your friend landed on the same section? You mentioned something about wanting to spend more time with her." You see Jin pat her head fondly from behind, earning him a bright smile from the girl.

Okay, so they’re friends? We like Jin? Noted.

"I don't know.." you said as you scratched your head.

"Woah! You should do it, ___!" Hobi said from beside you

"Okay, hold on, I'm not going to be peer pressured about this! I'll think about it, okay?" You tell Minyoung just to appease her. You don’t think you're going to go through with it anyway.

She pouted, and the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch break. Students started to settle down in their seats, and so did you. A few moments later, the teacher entered the room. You rested your elbows on your desk and plopped your chin on your palms. You let the rest of the day in school pass you by in a blur.

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

After class, you and Minyoung left together and rode the same bus home. As she entered her apartment letting out a small “see you tomorrow!”, you stared longingly at the door. You were overcome with a feeling of sadness, thinking that the nice elderly lady next door just wasn’t there anymore. It wasn't even long after you found out she bakes the best chocolate chip cookies you’ve ever had.

But it was less about the cookies and more about the warmth they brought you when she gave them to you for the first time. You tried to show that moving to a new place wasn’t a big deal, but truly, in the back of your mind, you were scared. Making new friends, attending a new school, and adjusting to a new way of life are all challenges. The gesture from the old lady meant everything to you at the time.

You entered the key code for your apartment and took out the lunch bag when you entered the kitchen, cleaning it all up. When you finally went to your room, you let yourself plop down on the bed. You looked towards your desk and saw the book placed neatly atop it. You reached out to get it and you sat up properly to skim through the pages, but to your surprise, they were blank. The cover stayed the same though; the front displayed the figure of the female protagonist, and behind her were four silhouettes of her love interests.

You whipped out your phone, and your screen displayed your contacts. It had MinYoung’s number on it, and you suppose it had always been there because you never remembered putting it in there. To your surprise though, there were also four more unfamiliar contacts that were there. Hobi, Yoongs, Jin, and Kim Namjoon, it said.

Your brows knit in confusion, but then you recall a brief moment earlier that afternoon when you quickly left your phone on your desk to excuse yourself to the bathroom, only to come back to Hoseok snickering behind his hand like the menace that he is. You weren't properly acquainted with Kim Namjoon, but you’re guessing Jin put his number in there.

You sighed, that plan about avoiding them not only down the drain but further down where the sun doesn't even reach. You exited the app, went to the search portal, and typed in the word novel. Some literature and library indexes popped up.

Too vague? You typed in romance web novel this time. The search portal displayed "no results."

You wanted to chuck your phone against the wall but decided against it. You just lied again on your back and tucked your arm over your eyes, exhaustion catching up to you. Before you knew it, you were drifting off to sleep.

You woke up the next day because of the light hitting your face. You stretched out your arms and legs and let out a yawn when you noticed that you were wearing proper pajamas and were tucked under the blanket properly. You gasped. Am I back? This wasn't what I was wearing when I fell asleep!

You quickly yanked the blanket out of the way and rushed outside, only to see your dad sipping coffee on the kitchen counter. You walked slowly this time, as you made your way towards the fridge.

"Morning sweetie," your dad greeted you in a sleepy voice, and you greeted him back with a small chirp.

"Dad, guess what? I had the craziest dream last night. There was this young girl next door that claimed to be my best friend—and oh! Jeongsang High became Kkotgil all of a sudden, and there were these dudes with colored hair, and there was a purple tree, and—" You kept rambling on, your sentences not even coherent. You saw your dad knitting his eyebrows, looking at you like you were insane.

"What?" you asked as you took a sip of your water.

"What are you talking about, sweetie? Jeongsang? Purple tree?" You nod at him.

"Exactly! That’s crazy, right?" You chuckle, and he looks even more confused.

"Girl next door? Honey, are you talking about Minyoung?" The water you were drinking shoots out of your nose in surprise, and you feel the sting in your nostrils. Ow!

Your dad laughed at your reaction. "Start getting ready now ___, you dont want to keep your friend waiting again." he said before turning around to start up on breakfast.

You stood there like a statue. I'm not back? But–

"My pajamas! How did I wake up in my pajamas then?" You asked in a loud voice, making him wince.

"Your grandma stopped by to have dinner with us last night, but you were already asleep, so she changed you into proper clothes and tucked you in. We still have the leftovers she cooked if you want to eat those." he said casually while chopping onions.

Your jaw dropped and you brushed your palms against your face in frustration.

There’s really no way out of this, huh?

#bts au #ot7 x reader #bts fluff #bts x reader #jungkook fanfic #taehyung fanfic #yoongi fanfic #namjoon fanfic #jhope fanfic #hoseok fanfic #oc reader #isekai #jimin fanfic #seokjin fanfic #alternate universe #bts fic #bts fanfiction #bangtan x oc

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loveyourlovelysoul · 1 year

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I am never gonna get my blog back, am I? I'm gonna stay "shadowbanned" forever, right?

This is so annoying.

@purpleharmonycat oh yes if you follow me you can see my posts, that's normal :) but they don't show up in the tags + I lost my dms chatbox (I cannot receive any dm nor send) and now that I am tagging you, you probably won't get a notification (I will momentarily reblog this post in fact)... yeah that's the thing. It's not that I'm letting this take too much space in my life cause ofc it's only a blog with a bug but still.. it's annoying that I cannot really communicate as I'd like to and it's already been 2+ months. Thanks for your help and support though, much appreciated!

@altervera you just cannot see your inbox/chatbox anymore (like all the dms you had exchanged, no trace of them + you cannot really send any to anyone either); then you notice nobody (or only a few people compared to even a few days before) interacts with your blog anymore. + if you search in the "explore" section for the tag you generally use, you will notice that your most recent post doesn't appear among the other people's ones + nobody gets notifications from your rb/mentions/answers (and if you rb your own post, you won't see any notification either). Why? Idk, I guess it's random, it's a bug... maybe if you get too many interactions altogether... but Idk. I tried contacting the staff as it happened in the past on another blog of mine, but this time it's taking a lot to solve the issue.

#tumblr wth #ofc theres a reason for everything but #im annoyed nonetheless

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indy-gray · 10 months

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WIP Title Tag Game

Lmao so @stesierra tagged me in this fun little game!

Rules: reveal the titles of the documents in your wip folder and tag as many people as there are documents. Let others ask questions about the ones that interest them and post snippets or explain the contents as you see fit!

Here we go, parentheses indicate I don't know what the fuck is in those documents lmao:

Heavy Lies The Heart

The Last Horseman thoughts

Wolves at the Door

HLTH worldbuilding

Hlth snowflake

The Sky Cast a Shadow

Writing Prompts (????)

A New Dawn

Untitled Document

The Rebels Halo

Lost Among the Stars

Chapter Outline (?????)

The Last Horseman

Under The Ravens Watchful Eye

Untitled Document

The Salvation Experiment

Untitled Document (my God I need to start titling these)

Fuck it I'm gonna start just writing prompts

And finally,

FIRST FUCKING DRAFT BABEY

So basically I have 0 organizational skills and it shows lmao. Tagging: @risingshards @nanashi23 @rms-writes @gloriafrimpong and I'm not tagging a million more people, open tag! Say I tagged you if you want!

#writeblr #amwriting #writblr #writers of tumblr #tag game #writer friends #wip title game

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xpeachesncream · 3 years

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it takes two | one shot (myg)

summary: min yoongi was the one who came to understand you and took you for you. but, when boundaries start getting crossed and priorities begin to change, you start to question if your relationship with your bestfriend is strong enough to make it through.

pairing: athlete!reader x athlete!myg

genre: bestfriends to lovers au, basketball au | fluff, angst, smut

words: 12.3k

warnings: cussing, mature language/implied sexual content, protected AND unprotected sex (later on), slight breast play, oral (f. receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, missionary, riding/straddling, mentions of alcohol consumption, dancing, mention of marijuana, sex on the beach kinda?, some heavy angst, insecurities, crying, injuries (like a cut/ankle sprain), yoongi is just kind of an idiot at one point

note: heavily inspired by the movie love and basketball. unedited for the most part, pls excuse any spelling/grammar errors.

tags: @ggukkieland @miinoongi @bluesharksandfish @unicornbabylover

⏏︎ now playing: triggered - jhené aiko ; sorry enough - chris brown

First Quarter: 6th Grade

You didn't really have a lot of friends in elementary school. Any, actually. Hell, the girls in your class purposely ignored you because you acted different. Dressed different. Enjoyed the shit boys liked, like playing ball and video games. You couldn't relate to their gel pens, Lisa Frank folders, cute binder stickers and bracelet charms. None of that shit was you. But you didn't care, you were fine by yourself. Nobody to please, nobody to care for.

The only person that came to understand you was Min Yoongi and that's because you played basketball with him and his friends during daycare. At first, it came as a surprise because truthfully, you felt like Yoongi only let you play because he felt bad for you. Which, okay, whatever— so be it. But, after the last round during a game of two versus two, you found yourself on the ground, huge gash on the knee from chasing after the ball before it could go out of bounds.

"Ouch! Crap!" You groaned as you sat up and checked out your knee. Yoongi walks towards you and crouches down, examining the bloody gash.

"Come on." He says, holding out a hand to help lift you up. He swings your arm over his shoulder, already knowing that any sudden movements to your knee can make the wound sting. He takes his time and walks with you as you hop on one leg towards the office, not really saying much. Yoongi wasn't the most talkative in class. He hung out with two or three other boys in your class on the daily, but they were quiet. Weren't much troublemakers, didn't cause ruckus like the other boys did. But, he was still popular among the girls because he was a little cutiepie. You remember walking into the bathroom, hearing Angie and her friends tease her about her crush on Yoongi. Then, the following week, one of her friends also ended up crushing on Yoongi and they bickered [weirdly] in the bathroom about it.

Getting to the office, he sits you down on the bench before approaching the office admin to grab some bandaids and ice for you.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Min?" Mrs. Yao comes over to greet him.

"Y/N's hurt. Can I get a bag of ice and a bandaid for her, please?" Mrs. Yao looks over her shoulder and does a head tilt before sighing. She knew you weren't like the girls in your class, always getting hurt one way or another, being more hardheaded and stubborn than the usual. She grabs a bag of ice and hands the supplies over to Yoongi before placing her hands on her hips.

"You think you can take care of Miss Y/N, or do you need me to help?" He shakes his head.

"I got it, thank you Mrs. Yao." He politely says, giving her a small toothless smile. You silently watch as he walks over, crouching down once again to tend to your wounds. "I don't think this will hurt, but stay still so I can put this bandaid on." He says softly as he spreads the small Neosporin packet across your wound. He wipes his finger down on his pants before removing the back of the bandaid and pressing it against your knee. "There. You should keep the ice on it so it doesn't bruise and stuff." He stands.

"Thank you." He nods as he watches you stand and slightly limp before you adjust your steps to the right pressure. He follows you out, coming back to your side with his hands in his pockets.

"Why don't you act like the other girls?" He asks, cocking an eyebrow at you.

"What? Not liking all the girly stuff that they like?"

"Sure, or you playing basketball. You know girls are usually like cheerleaders and cheer the guys on instead."

"Well, I don't wanna be a cheerleader. I just would rather play. What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing, it's just weird to see."

"You're weird." You snapped back.

"How am I weird?"

"You shoot weird."

"And you don't? I shoot better than you." He furrows his brows.

"No you don't."

"Fine, wanna play one more time? Unless you're a wuss and can't play cause of your knee." You rolled your eyes at the sudden change of events.

"I'll play you, I'm not a wuss. Unless you're afraid to lose to a girl." You taunt him as you both walk back to the court.

"Whatever, I'm not afraid cause I won't lose." He grabs the ball and checks it in. "My ball first."

"Sure, if you think that'll help."

And that's how Yoongi lost to you, busted knee and everything. From there, it was history. You became inseparable, Yoongi becoming a large part of your days and vice versa. His parents eventually became close to yours after the numerous times you both have been dropped off to hang out, or catching rides home after school. Yoongi lived in a nearby neighborhood, only being a good 7 minute walk, to be exact.

Second Quarter: High School, Senior Year

In high school, it became a little different. Yoongi grew up, played varsity basketball and became a fucking jock even though he claimed he would never. Yeah, bullshit. You too, played on the girls varsity basketball team, and surprisingly, you two kept each other close. It was a blessing and a curse though, because you couldn't see your life without Yoongi. He's been there since the 6th grade. However, girls took note of that shit. Trying to use you as their way in to Yoongi's heart, or pants, or both. You made it very clear though that you weren't interested in being a fucking messenger. Girls thought you were mean, but really, they just couldn't handle you. Hence, why you really couldn't relate and be one of them.

Yoongi was still the only person who could understand you and handle you, bad attitude and all. Tomboy habits and all. Not wanting to make friends and all.

"Jesus fucking christ, the day just started." Yoongi says as he watches you toss your duffle bag and backpack aggressively in the back seat of his car. "What's your deal?"

"Nothing, I'm just tired." You slump in his passenger seat after buckling your seat belt.

"Chill, don't start your day like this."

"Whatever, dad." You rolled your eyes, causing him to let out a pathetic chuckle.

"Are you coming to my game later?"

"Yeah, if I'm not too tired from practice."

"Y/N, I always make it to your games even if I'm tired."

"Do you?"

"The fuck? Yes I do. When haven't I?" His tone raises with yours. "Don't try and justify your shit by coming up with lies."

"Yeah, yeah bighead. You'll have plenty of cheerleaders there for you."

"Yeah and?" He smirks. "You're the one I'll be looking for though." He caresses your chin, making you smack his hand away while he laughs loudly.

"You're stupid." You groan as you sink lower in his seat. The rest of the ride to school, you shut your eyes and enjoy the peace before you're having to walk down those annoying, congested hallways.

People rave a lot about senior year, but it honestly hasn't felt special to you. Maybe because you kept the same routine since freshmen year, or maybe you really just didn't care as much as everyone else did about how "special" it was. You've always been locked in to basketball even if your mom wasn't a big fan of it. She wished you were more into cute, girly shit, like makeup, shopping, manis and pedis and dresses and heels, but she came to accept this was the way it was going to be. Especially because your dad was your biggest fan. You came to love basketball, more than just a side hobby. You joined the varsity team and practiced day in and day out. When basketball wasn't in season, you'd play with Yoongi at the park or sign up for camps and tournaments. You just wanted to keep bettering yourself so that you could play in college and get into the league post-grad. Yoongi was the same, and he may or may not have influenced your passion for ball. Either way, he was always supporting you and cheering for you even if the other females hated it.

His ex for sure hated the relationship you had with him even though you really steered clear when she was around. Wasn't your fucking problem or responsibility to take care of her insecurities. Same with his flings.

"Hey, so later, yeah?" He asks in between throwing nods and smiles to girls passing by.

"Mhm." You hum. "You gonna be free for lunch later?"

"I don't know. I know where to find you though if I am."

"Have a good day, punk."

"You too, bub. See you in English." He turns on his heel, walking towards his friends, aka his team members. Aka his jock ass group. Aka the ones females flock to.

Namjoon, Jimin, Eunwoo, Lucas.

They were all pretty boys who knew they were pretty boys and used that to their advantage to make big asshole moves. You hated that Yoonks got pulled in from time to time, but shit, it wasn't your life, you were only a small part of his. Sometimes, they also pulled in the football boys, Jungkook and Seokjin. Even the baseball boys, Hoseok and Taehyung. It was all a huge pretty boy, jock, asshole group in the making outside. A big fucking party for a lot of the girls at school, though.

So even if Yoongi was really the only one in your life, you weren't the only one in his. It is, what it is. As long as he doesn't go switching up on you, then whatever, so be it.

The first half of your classes go by quick, being that you enjoyed your chemistry, french and english classes. You had your english class with Yoongi, Namjoon and Hoseok. You had gotten to know Namjoon and Hoseok a little through it, and it was enough to know that they weren't all that bad. At least in this classroom setting.

"You two going to prom together?" Namjoon asks, making Yoongi snort.

"No, what the hell?" Yoongi responds.

"You guys can have fun at prom." You roll your eyes.

"You're really not gonna go?" Joon bites on the end of his pencil.

"No? The fuck I look like?"

"Y/N, I know it'd be weird as fuck to see you in a dress, but it's senior year. You didn't go last year, did you?" Namjoon asks from Yoongi's other side.

"Really, Namjoon?" You give him a look as if it could state the obvious.

"Well shit, I don't know. I know it's not your thing but can't really say I would have noticed either way." Hoseok laughs, causing you to throw your pen at his head before flicking him off.

"Miss Y/N!" Mrs. Maxwell calls you out mid-movie, eyes wide and in disbelief at how you're acting.

"What?! He started it." You slumped back in your seat and let out a sigh.

"Not another word." She says sternly.

"Not another word." You mock her under your breath.

"Aye, stop. You and that attitude boutta get in some trouble the last weeks of senior year." Yoongi puts his hand on your wrist, causing you to shake your head and click your teeth.

"Anyway, you should go." Hoseok whispers as he leans over on the table to look at you.

"No. Besides, with what date?"

"Take the basketball." Joon snickers.

"You're a complete dumbass, Namjoon. Stop talking." You snap.

"Maybe they're right, bub. It's senior year and it's coming to an end quick. I'd hate for you to regret it." Yoongi turns to you and says lowly.

"You know that won't happen." But really, part of you did feel a little bad. You knew it wasn't your scene, and you really didn't care what people thought of you when it came down to it. However, you always wondered what it would be like if someone liked you. If someone wanted you. Crushed on you so hard that they couldn't keep their hands off of you, couldn't stop thinking of you. Your first love. To feel pleasure, pain. Mixture of emotions simply by being in love. You wondered what it would be like to lose your virginity and have good, good sex. Besides, you were a human with needs. But the only person you have ever been close to was Yoongi. For the most part, you didn't see him that way because you knew he definitely didn't. But, you also couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to take your relationship to that point. If it was anyone, he would be the one you'd have feelings for. He would be your first kiss, your first everything. Because Yoongi was comfort and security for you.

But you valued your friendship more than anything.

"Just saying, think about it." He follows up.

"Think about getting an expensive dress and painful ass heals to wear for one night, just to dance around in 'em and take one professional pic with a date? Maybe get railed if I'm lucky?" You playfully wiggle your eyebrows making Yoongi shake his head.

"Don't be such a party pooper for once."

"Mmm. Great reasoning. Really convincing me here." You laugh it off even though in all honesty, you were thinking about it.

The bell rings and thank god it's finally lunch because you were fucking starving. Appetite and attitude on na-na, no doubt. You silently part ways with Yoongi to stop by your locker and grab your lunch. You make your way to the rowdy ass cafeteria, quickly scanning the room to catch a sight of Yoongi. You see him sitting on top of one of the lunch tables with Hoseok, Namjoon, Jimin and Taehyung sitting around him. Clearly, Yoongi wasn't free today.

"Wassup baby? Wanna trade that ball in for me?" Jimin says as you pass by their table to make your way outside to the bleachers. You flick him off before rolling your eyes and pretending to gag.

"Fuck off, Park." The group laughs except for Yoongi.

"Wonder if she's got that bad attitude in bed, too." Yoongi doesn't hesitate to smack Jimin upside the head because yeah, no matter what, he was gonna protect you as much as possible. "Owwww, I'm just kidding Yoongi."

"Don't let me hear you say that shit around me ever again."

"Fuck, I'm sorry. It was just a joke." Jimin winces as he rubs the back of his head.

"Damn Min Yoonks, why don't you take her ass to prom if it's like that?" Taehyung says, chewed up food coming into full view as he smacks loudly.

"Why don't you learn how to close your mouth first?" Yoongi spits back.

"Y/N is really rubbing off on you."

"It's manners, idiot. You should've been learned that." Namjoon says, laughing.

"But foreel, why won't you take her? You both are close, you've never seen her that way?" Hoseok asks making Yoongi shake his head in response.

"She's my bestfriend. I value her just the way she is, no more no less."

"Ah, you must have thought about it at least once." Yoongi keeps silent. Luckily, the group easily gets distracted and starts paying attention to Seokjin and Jungkook coming over as they talk about the dates they've scored for prom.

Yoongi has thought about it. Still does. Just like he is for you, you're the only one who understands him and takes him for who he is. You know the real him besides basketball player Yoongi. You're the only one who keeps it real. But he would rather keep it this way than ruin things between you and him. He'd hate to fuck up with you because he knows he can fuck up, there's no hiding from it. He'd never forgive himself if he lost you.

Practice is hell today for you and fuck, you really wanna just go home and lay down for the rest of the evening. Coach had you all running suicides and conditioning drills on the courts outside and pulling scrimmages against each other left and right. Let's not forget how coach is always on your ass right before a game too. Hell, she catches an attitude way worse than you before game time and after a loss. You wanted to avoid that at all costs. But, to avoid taking the bus home and instead hitching a ride with Yoongi, you throw on a hoodie and haul your ass to the gym in some nike slippers. You take a seat on a free end at one of the bleachers, holding Spalding in between your legs with your duffle next to you on the floor. The game is off to a start in about 5 minutes, Yoongi catches sight of you on the bleachers and nods. You give him a small smile as a gesture of good luck, which he reciprocates.

The game starts off intensely, both teams scoring closely even with the boys putting straight pressure. Towards the end of the first half, Yoongi and Eunwoo are the leading scorers, putting their team up by 10. Halftime is a bunch of hoo-haa, with cheerleaders in their itty bitty skirts, trying to shake their asses as they cheer for the boys. The boys don't even hide the fact that their ogling, and it's clear as day they all want some pussy. Quite frankly, they walk around thinking they deserve it cause of how hard they try to pull some wins and put the school on the map. Student government comes up for a bit too, pulling some kind of skit to weirdly promote prom. It makes you cringe and in all honesty, it makes you not wanna go even more, but it is your senior year. If you can snag a date, then maybe.

"Hey." Terra [not a cheerleader but still a pretty, popular chick] plops next to you with a smirk on her face. Immediately, you want no part in it because you already know what she's trying to do.

"Hi?"

"I'm just gonna cut straight to it. Do you know if Yoongi is seeing anyone?"

"How the hell would I know, Terra?" You furrow your brows at her.

"Because you're close to him, aren't you?"

"And? Doesn't mean I'm telling people his business. Besides, he's not obligated to tell me everything just cause we're close." She rolls her eyes.

"Whatever. Look, can you do me a favor and give this to him?" She tries handing you a little ass piece of paper folded neatly with a pink heart decorated on the front.

"Why don't you give it to him yourself?"

"That's no fun." You scoff and roll your eyes. Really, miss girl? "Be a doll for once, yeah?" She winks and slips the note in between your wrist and Spalding so it stays put. You take the note and eye it, letting out a deep sigh as you shove it into your pocket. You weren't in the mood to be extra rude today so you'll give it to him later when he drives you home.

The game finally finishes with Yoongi making a final three, the boys keeping their lead up by 10. Everyone cheers and showers the boys with love after the team has finished shaking hands and high-fiving their opponents. You stick around until the crowd dies down, watching Yoongi flirt with Terra as you swing your duffle bag strap onto your shoulder before slowly heading down the bleachers.

"Hey bighead, good game today." You lightly punch him against the chest.

"I knew you'd come."

"Shut up. I'll be at your car."

"For what?"

"Cause you're taking me home, punk."

"No please?"

"Please." He shakes his head and chuckles before you part ways to let him gather his things in the locker room. When you finally catch sight of his teeny head coming towards you from the gym, you hear him unlock his car to let you in while he continues to walk over.

"Fuuuuuck." He says, throwing his things in the back before buckling his seat belt and switching the gear into drive.

"You have fan mail." Yoongi looks over and sees you clutching the note Terra gave you.

"What's that, a condom?"

"You're sick. It's from Terra."

"Who's that again?" You make a face at him.

"You were just telling her sweet nothings earlier after the game?"

"Oh, Terra with the tig o' bitties. Got it." He shakes his head. "I wasn't telling her sweet nothings."

"Right. You're an absolute dipshit, you know?" You prop up a leg on the seat while you unfold the letter.

"Give it!" You move it away from his grasp and begin to read it out loud.

"Yoongi, you're honestly so hot. If you don't have a date for prom, I just want you to know that I'm free, and I promise I'll give you a good time if you take me." You cackle. "Boy, what the fuck is this? Ew."

"Shut up." He blushes before laughing along with you.

"Look at her, writing her coochie out on paper."

"She isn't."

"Oh, really? Pfft." You softly scoff. "So, are you taking her or what?"

"I don't know? Maybe, damn. What about you?"

"What about me, fool? I told you I'd think about it."

"Go with Jimin. He still doesn't have a date." He hates to say it with how much of an asshole Jimin can be, but if it meant you'd be at your senior prom then Yoongi will let it pass. He'll make sure Jimin doesn't try any slick shit.

"Ew, god no."

"Look, I'll make sure he doesn't go overboard. I promise."

"Why do you want me there so badly, Yoongi?"

"Because it's our last year in high school together and I'd really like to celebrate with you somehow." You sigh heavily.

"Fair enough. Let me sit on it."

"Better hurry and stop keeping that seat warm."

"Don't rush me." You punch his arm, causing a groan to erupt from him.

- - -

Really, you'd rather be anywhere than at prom with Park Jimin holding onto your waist the way he is for the pictures you're taking with him, Yoongi and the rest of their group and dates. After all the pictures and fake smiles, you feel him slowly slip his hand down your dress to try and get a grip on your ass, but before you could do so, you're grabbing his wrist with full pressure and making him wince.

"Don't you fucking dare or else I'll cut your dick off and throw it in a blender."

"Aish, ah, fuck! Okay, I'm kidding, let me go!" He whines lowly. You let go of his wrist after one more good squeeze, causing him to wiggle his hand to get the feeling back.

"Get me some punch, will you? My mouth is dry."

"You know, I might know something else that can help." Jimin wiggles his eyebrows as he continues to hold onto his wrist.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me."

"Or not. I'll be back." He accepts defeat by smiling from ear to ear before walking off. You sit off to the side, the heels a huge pain in the ass on top of Jimin already being a huge pain in the ass. You lean over on your knees, completely forgetting you have a short dress on, causing boys passing by to whistle and eye at the easy access.

"The fuck are you looking at? Keep it moving." Yoongi says pushing the guys forward before shooting you a look. "Y/N, really?"

"Shit sorry, I forgot. I'm not used to this." You sit up and adjust your dress before rubbing your arms at how self-conscious you suddenly [and unexpectedly] feel.

"Are you having fun at least?" He sits next to you, manspreading on the seat in the navy suit he has on.

"Mmm, sure." You slightly smile at him. "What about you? You actually took Terra, huh?"

"Yeah, it's pretty fun." He chuckles. "Don't lie, I saw you dancing a bit earlier."

"That's when the alcohol hadn't worn off yet." You snort, remembering Seokjin's older brother giving the group alcohol after all the parents were done taking their pictures of you all. Yoongi laughs along with you before he looks over and simply stares at you, hair all done, makeup done perfectly without it being too much. You in a dress.

"You look beautiful tonight, bub."

"You don't look too bad yourself, bubby." You blush before Jimin interrupts the moment with your cup of punch.

"Here, princess."

"You better not be trying anything slick, punkass." Yoongi says.

"Mm, don't worry. I haven't been able to." You kick his shin as you chug your punch, causing him to cough and choke on his own words. "I'd like to peacefully have this slow dance with you at least, damn." You swallow the last bits of punch before you're taking Jimin's hand to the floor. Yoongi watches as you two make your way to the dance floor for a slow dance, slightly regretting that he didn't just ask you to dance.

"Let's dance, babe." Terra's baby voice comes out as she pulls him up from the seat to find a spot on the dance floor. Yoongi is honestly tired of having to keep up with Terra's energy and her clingy ass, but nonetheless, he was happy you were around for prom.

He was really happy you were around for prom, even though you hated this shit more than anything.

He had you in full view ahead, and so did you. He couldn't help but direct his attention towards you and keep his eyes on you. Fuck, he has never seen anyone so beautiful until you walked through Seokjin's doors with Jimin. Look, let's get this straight. Even though you had your own way of expressing yourself, he always loved your natural beauty, your natural glow. He loved watching you on the court and how happy it made you to play ball. He remembers every accomplishment, every milestone you've reached. How you've grown tremendously as a ball player. He would never admit it to you in person, but he definitely admires how you push yourself and how you always do what you can to improve. Hell, you might just be the better player between the both of you. And when you catch him looking over, he doesn't even try and hide it. He doesn't even care that he's still holding onto Terra and slow dancing with her.

Something within you flips. You feel that shit in the pit of your stomach, at the heat of your core.

But, you brush it off and break eye contact first, even if he doesn't stop staring. This couldn't happen, no. This was your bestfriend. You weren't gonna let the things you felt get in the way of that.

Nope.

Suddenly, the song changes to something more upbeat and twerkable, Jimin taking the opportunity to spin you around and grind on you. You really need a distraction anyway, something to rid you of those god awful thoughts about your bestfriend, so you let him and you have fun with it. Everyone around you is having fun anyway, and fuck, you wouldn't have to do this ever again so fuck it.

"Let me get a dance with my bestfriend." Yoongi says to Jimin.

"Go dance with your date!"

"Shut up and switch for a second!" Yoongi says, pushing him off of you so he could get behind and dance with you.

"Yoonks, what the hell?" You laugh.

"Go with it, bub. It's fucking senior year, we're graduating soon." You go with his movements, having the time of your life with everyone around you as prom quickly comes to a close.

When you get into Jimin's car, you knock off your heels as he continues to talk nonstop about the night. Jimin was a cutie but god, you could not stand his mindset for the life of you. You were grateful he had agreed to take you to prom, but damn. Prom was done and all you wanted was some peace and quiet.

"I hope you had fun with me tonight." You give him a toothless smile before slipping your heels back on.

"I did, thank you for taking me. Really." He smiles from ear to ear before leaning over near your seat.

"Can I get just one good smooch for the night?" You look at him before you smirk and lean over near his lips.

"Sure." You whisper.

"Oh fuck, this is actually happening."

"Close your eyes, I know you don't fucking kiss with your eyes open. What are you doing?"

"Right. Sorry." He closes his eyes and puckers his lips. You lean in a little closer, feeling his breath against your lips.

Then you flick his nose.

"Ouch!"

"Peace out, Park." You throw open his door to step out and shut it behind you to quietly walk into your house.

The lights are off and your parents are already tucked into the room for the night, leaving you a note on the fridge reminding you to make sure all the doors are locked before retreating to your room. You do as you're reminded before quietly shutting your door and tossing your heels to the side. You let the pins down from your hair, ruffling it around a bit and relieving any pressure on your head. Before turning away from your dresser, you notice a letter from the one university you had been waiting on. You had been waiting to hear back from Stanford for the longest time, and quite frankly, you had been upset you hadn't heard especially when their scouts were at your game awhile ago.

You had broken down to your parents, to Yoongi, automatically assuming the worst when you heard that other people had already been accepted and scouted for Stanford. Suddenly, you found yourself working harder and harder because you felt like you were lacking in so many areas. You felt low, and like your dream was running miles and miles away from you. Faster than you could keep up.

You take the letter in your hand, but don't want to open it because you don't feel ballsy enough [surprisingly]. You call up Yoongi, not caring that he could possibly be in the middle of getting his dick wet.

"Sup?"

"Are you busy?"

"I was just about to walk into my house."

"Oh, nevermind."

"Need me to come by?"

"I got a letter from Stanford."

"Shit, I'll be there in 2 mins."

And in 2 minutes, he surely was knocking at your window. You slide it up enough for him to climb in, Yoongi still in his prom get-up as well.

"Here." You instantly hand him the letter.

"What, why me? It should be you."

"I can't, I really can't." He sighs.

"Are you sure you won't regret this?"

"No, bub. Please." You sit on the bed and fiddle with your fingers as you watch him rip the envelope open and tear out the letter. You can't even keep your eyes on him as he reads the letter and starts backing away from you.

"Shit."

"What? What?!" You stand, trying your best to keep your tone low. He covers his mouth, causing you to pinch his bicep at how dramatic he was being. "Just say it!"

"You're not going." Your heart sinks, but before you could process it, Yoongi speaks up again. "To any other college because Stanford wants you."

"I'm going to fucking kill you!" You whisper and shove him.

"Congrats, bubby. Guess we'll be together in college too." Your eyes widen.

"Y-you're going? T-to Stanford?" He smiles and nods.

"Yeah, I am."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Look, I just wanted to give you your space. That's all. I found out before you went all cry baby on me."

"Shut up." You say before laughing and jumping into his arms, throwing your legs around his torso while he swings you around. As he sets you back down onto your bedroom floor, your hands linger around his neck, gently tugging on the hair that rested there. He keeps you close, his hands resting around your waist as your chests are still touching. You honestly have no idea what takes over you— perhaps all the feelings you felt tonight at prom taking over, or feeling overjoyed from finally hearing back from Stanford, you couldn't decide. But you crash your lips against his, immediately pulling back after you realized you've just kissed your bestfriend.

You just had your first fucking kiss through accidental causes.

Well, shit.

Was it accidental or no?

Mind is going off on a tangent.

"Woah. I'm so sorry, Yoonks, I—" He doesn't allow for any space between you two, keeping your body flush against his as his lips crash onto yours again to cut you off. To be quite honest, things are moving fast and the kiss deepens quick. You follow his motions, gaining some rhythm as your tongue dances along with his in the [now] wet, sloppy kiss.

"Wait, Y/N." He pulls away as the moment intensifies. "A-are you sure you wanna keep going? To be honest, I don't know if I'll be able to hold myself back and I know you haven't exactly—" He knows it would be your first time and he wasn't sure how he felt about it. I mean, sure, he loved you. You were special to him. But he wanted to make sure your first time was also special, whether it be him or whoever else.

"Please. I want this. I wanna do this with you."

By the looks of tonight, it seems like it's meant to be him.

You press your lips back onto his with the same intensity and start to unbutton his shirt when you feel his hands hike up your dress. He gently pushes you on the bed, crawling over to you as he kicks off his shoes and finishes ripping off his shirt and tie. He slowly removes the straps of your dress down your shoulders and undoes the zipper on the side before slipping it down and leave you in your panties.

You had no bra on.

Yoongi's eyes widen when he realizes such, your cheeks heating up while you watch him stare down your body. You begin to feel incredibly self-conscious so you cover your chest with an arm. Yoongi senses your uneasiness, your confidence shooting down below zero.

"You're beautiful, bub. Don't." He says, gently tugging your arm away and letting it fall limply to the side. You simply nod and let him take the reigns because you had no idea what the fuck you were doing. So many emotions were flooding your mind— you were nervous, you were scared, you were shy, you felt lost and too innocent under Yoongi, even if he knew you like the back of his hand.

And because of that, he could pick up on it with the way your body continued to tense up. He shook off his pants, leaving on his boxers until you were ready for him. Cause fuck, he was ready for you, but he had to take this slow. He had to take care of you.

He lowers himself onto you after the two of you have climbed under the sheets, lowering his head against your neck to press light, feathery kisses along the surface. You felt the tingles shoot down your spine every time his lips made contact, causing you to softly gasp and arch your back at how sensitive you were already feeling.

"If you ever feel uncomfortable, just tell me to stop okay?" He says lowly. You nod in response, Yoongi taking it as leverage to plant a kiss on your lips before moving down to your breasts. He keeps his eyes on you, making sure you don't seem uncomfortable in the slightest bit. But you don't, and it's indicated in the way you bite your bottom lip and arch your back at the way his tongue wraps around your hardened bud. He does the same on the other breast before peppering kisses down your stomach and abdomen.

"Yoongi." You slightly gasp, shy at how unusually close he is to your lady friend.

"What's wrong? Want me to stop?" His thumbs gently caressed your thighs as his head hovered over your pelvis. You shake your head and nervously swallow before speaking once more.

"I-I'm just scared, what if you don't like—"

"Shh." He shushes you. "You're everything to me, you know that. You don't have to change just so I could enjoy you in bed. I'll take good care of you, bub. I promise."

"O-okay." He nods, placing a kiss over your clothed clit before pulling them down to get lost within your sheets. He swipes a finger down your folds, causing your breathing to hitch slightly. You watch as he slowly inserts the same digit inside of you, biting onto his bottom lip watching your facial expressions turn from uncertainty to straight pleasure. "Another." You moan.

"You sure?"

"Yes, please." He inserts another digit, curling his fingers upward as he starts to finger fuck you at a steady pace.

"Shit, you're so wet Y/N." He says lowly before lowering his mouth onto you to get a taste and tease your clit. You gasp at the overwhelming sensation, feeling the pleasure bubbling in your core and you had no idea how to deal with it. He picks up his pace while tonguing your clit and sucking at the right pressure until suddenly, you short circuit and tremble under his grip. You purse your lips together to prevent yourself from moaning too loud with your parents at the other end of the hall [jesus fucking christ], knuckles turning white as you grip the sheets tightly.

Your first orgasm came and washed over you quick.

"Did you just—" He removes his digits from inside of you, drooling at your cum accumulating all over his fingers.

"Holy fuck." You whisper as you regulate your breathing, twitching when Yoongi places a quick kiss on your pussy before coming back up to you.

"How was that?"

"So good. Wanna feel you." You whine, tugging him down towards you.

"I got you, bubby." He says, kissing your jaw, cheek, nose and lips. He reaches over into his pants on the floor, grabbing a condom out of his pocket. You furrow your brow and chuckle, confused if this was something he always did.

"You just carry that around?"

"The guys and I split on a box and carried one each for tonight. Just in case."

"Total fucking assholes." He chuckles.

"Better safe than not, right?" He rips it open with his teeth, spitting the wrapper out onto the floor before rolling it down his cock. He was perfectly thick and long, and it made you a nervous wreck all over again thinking about how this could feel. "Ready? I'll go slow." You nod. You immediately felt immense pressure when you felt Yoongi dip his body and slowly enter you. You winced, Yoongi immediately pausing until you tapped his arm to continue. And so he does, and you continue to breathe through it until he bottoms out and lets out a soft groan against your neck. "Fuck, you're so tight bub. God, you're gonna make me cum quick." He slowly pumps in and out, steadying his pace when he feels you buck your hips up to go along with his motions.

The pleasure skyrocketed; You shut your eyes, letting yourself be in this moment. Feel this moment.

He picks it up a little faster, careful not to bang your headboard against the wall. His forehead is pressed against yours, watching as you let out soft whimpers against his lips.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck. Yoongi-Yoongi—" You whispered. "You're gonna make me—" It was becoming overwhelming, your clit rubbing against him as he steadied his pace and continued to fuck into you. He nods, pressing a kiss against your forehead.

"Yeah, that's it. Let go. It's okay." And that was enough for you to reach your second orgasm tonight. Quick, but fuck. Yoongi made you feel so good, and you wouldn't want it any other way. You shut your eyes as you hurdled over the edge, mouth open with silent, inaudible moans being released. "So fucking pretty." Yoongi says as he feels himself reaching his high with the way your walls pulsated against his cock.

God. So, so good.

He holds onto the headboard and quickly fucks into you until he's spilling his seed in the condom, muffled moans being released against the crook of your neck. It takes a moment before Yoongi raises his head, your hands running through his black hair while he presses a tender kiss against your lips. He slowly removes himself, wrapping the condom in a tissue before tossing it into your trash can. He plops next to you and welcomes you into his arms, caressing you to soothe you from your first time.

"You okay?"

"More than okay." You say, the both of you trying to savor the moment before trying to navigate where to go from here.

What now?

Third Quarter: College, Junior Year (Present)

You bent down, hands resting against your knees as you tried to catch your breath during the timeout Coach Chu had called with 5.2 seconds literally left on the clock. He laid out the play he wanted you and the team to pull off in order to gain the win over Berkeley.

It had to be executed perfectly. No flaws.

Coach Chu had been riding your ass since you were a freshman. But, over the years, you've learned how to work through his tough love and turn it into positives, bettering yourself on and off the floor. It paid off, and he saw the fire in you, finally moving you up to starting point guard right before the season ended. Some team members hated it at first, but eventually, grew to work with it as well.

The plan was to have you come down into the paint and lay up the ball or take a shot at the very last second to avoid Berkeley from getting another chance at scoring. Sometimes you hated the pressure, but you've also learned that a big part of playing ball was thriving under pressure.

Your team closes up the huddle before you and your teammates are heading back out onto the floor to try and get this win. You shake off the nerves, bouncing the ball out of bounds until you check it in with your teammate. After that— it was like a blur. Shit happened so quick, you couldn't even process it. You passed the ball and dashed over to the other side of the court while your teammate put up a screen. You rose your hand as you ran into the paint, adrenaline rushing through your veins as you awkwardly lay up the ball in the position you were in and stumble onto the ground from losing your footing. You turn your head as the buzzer went off, noticing that the ball had bounced off the rim.

You missed a fucking lay up.

How could you miss a fucking lay up?

"Fuck!" You cry as you sit up and smack the floor.

"Aye, it's all good girl! Ain't a big deal! You win some, you lose some! We still got a ways to go!" Your teammate [roommate, and closest college friend] Clarice said as she helped you up. She was right, but every loss to you was a big loss no matter what. Coach was for sure gonna drill you about this too, and you were already mentally preparing.

"Thanks." You mumble. You look out at the disappointed crowd slowly dispersing, wishing you could still catch a familiar face in the crowd.

But, Yoongi hadn't been to your game in years. So you thought. You never caught him if he ever stepped foot into your game.

Your head hung low as the familiar feeling of pain and loneliness came rushing back while you headed to the locker room. Too bad you didn't see him hiding out on the side of the bleachers with Lucas.

"Y/N, a word." Coach Chu says, leading you into his office.

Fuck, here we go.

You shut the door behind you and stand awkwardly in front of his desk, fiddling with your fingers.

"Look, I just want to say that you put on hell of a show tonight, win or lose. We still have plenty of games left, plenty of opportunities to lock in play-offs. Alright? Don't be upset."

"Thanks Coach." You give him a tiny smile.

"Are you doing okay?"

"Uh, yeah. I think so."

"What's on your mind?"

"Nothing coach, just been a hectic couple of weeks." In which, it was no lie. You crammed for test after test, project after project. You barely had any time to breathe this year.

"Well, my door is always open if you need to chat." You nod. "I'll see you at practice. Enjoy your night."

"Thanks again." You say as you exit his office and get yourself showered and into comfier clothes.

Meanwhile, Yoongi heads back to his dorm room alongside Lucas, hands dug deep into his pockets while his head hung low.

"You ever gonna talk to her?"

"I don't know." He sighs. "Pretty sure I fucked up any chance of that."

"Look, dude. You haven't really been the same since you and Y/N fell out." Yoongi stays silent as they slowly climb the steps up to their room. "Why are you just gonna leave it like this? It's been so long already. Doesn't it bother you?"

"Positive she doesn't want me around." Lucas shakes his head.

"You haven't even tried. You just gave up and that shit is cold, to be honest. I know Y/N always held it down for you, I would have expected you to do the same." The words cut through Yoongi so deep, he doesn't even know how to respond and leaves it at that.

As you heavily dragged your body back to the dorms and took your sweet ol' time, your mind began to wander back to Yoongi as well. After he had taken your virginity that night, things took a turn for the worst.

He treated you differently, created this distance that allowed you to grow farther and farther apart from each other until he was no longer in your grasp and vice versa.

You went from Yoongi being a part of your every day to nothing. And fuck, did it hurt you. You cried and cried, until you were so tired of crying. You had to pick yourself up and keep it moving no matter what. Life waits for nobody.

You reminisce on those days of debating over who could really be considered the greatest. Although, you did pay your respects to the bigs, the greats— Kobe, Magic, MJ, Lebron— you paid respect where it was rightfully due. However, Derrick Rose at his prime? Rajon Rondo? Chris Paul?

Hell, even Baron Davis, Monte Ellis. Rookie Steph Curry? Shiiit. They were it for you, and Yoongi used to dog your ass on how unrealistic you were being.

That was all gone.

He must be having a ball watching Steph climb up those charts now, though. You wonder what he would say to you.

The days of going to basketball games, to each other's basketball games, to ordering hella pizza and creating chaos in either house over the dunk contest during the NBA All Star Week or yelling all around the living room and jumping on couches during the NBA playoff season and championship games— All gone.

If you knew this would drastically change you and Yoongi, you would have never let that night happen. You continued to put on your brave face, your thick, tough skin even though deep down, it took everything in you to suppress the hurt, betrayal and confusion. Even after all these years.

He meant everything to you. Did you not to him? You could never understand until this day. How could he dispose of you so, so quickly?

You see him on campus and quickly break any eye contact, or run the opposite way. You were tired of doing this even though you felt like you needed closure. Some explanation. You deserved it. But you weren't gonna initiate that. Even if Yoongi did, you don't even know if things could ever go back to the way it was. He promised he would never hurt you, but he has. He still is hurting you. The wounds— it cut deep. Deeper than he could ever imagine.

"Hello?" You smile, hearing your dad on the other line.

"Hey dad."

"Hey baby! How was your game? I'm sorry I couldn't catch it tonight, work kept me behind." You sigh.

"Eh, it's probably good you didn't. Didn't turn out so well." He picks up on how your voice cracks ever so slightly, enough to indicate that you were trying your hardest not to break down about your performance. "I missed the winning shot."

"Oh sweetheart, you'll get 'em next time. You always do. You still have a couple of games left don't you?"

"Yeah, but it doesn't change the fact that I played shitty as hell tonight."

"There's always room for improvement, only way to go is up from here right?" He says softly, making you smile. "You'll get 'em next time, I have no doubt. You always know how to better yourself even when I think you've already reached your highest potential."

"Thanks Dad. You always were my number one fan."

"I still am." He chuckles. "How's everything else? School?"

"Fine." He always has to stop himself from asking about Yoongi, even to ask if there's been the slightest change to your relationship.

"You sure?"

"Course." You lie.

"Alright, well you know me and your mom are here for you if you need anything."

"I know."

"I'll let you go and get some rest, alright? Don't be so hard on yourself."

"Mmm, I'll try." You chuckle. "I love you."

"Love you too. And hey, baby?"

"Yeah?"

"Always remember that you deserve everything good in this world. If someone can't handle you at your worse, they sure as hell don't deserve you at your best."

"Thank you." You smile as if your dad can see you through the phone before hanging up and unlocking your dorm door.

"Sigma Nu party going on tonight, wanna come and slide through?" Clarice asks as she watches you toss your duffle aside.

"I'm tired, not in the mood."

"So aren't I, but I think we both need it. Come on girl, just for a little." You sigh. Clarice had also been there by your side since you both were freshmen recruits. One day, she came into the room and found you a crying mess, causing her to wrap her arms around you and craddle you until you calmed down. You had spilled the beans about Min Yoongi, especially when he quickly became the talk of the campus as a ladies man and one of the best freshmen recruits Stanford has ever seen. You hated it, but a part of you still found yourself happy that he was getting the recognition he deserved as a ball player.

He wasn't the tallest, or the biggest, but boy had heart and played every game like it was his last. You had been his number one fan, and even though you hated him, that fact would never change.

Anyways, without Clarice, you weren't sure where you'd be. Definitely not here because you'd be too busy running away from your past and all the issues that came with it.

Yeah, yeah. Go ahead and say it. You would be stupid enough to not go to your first choice just because of a stupid boy.

"Fine, fine. I'm leaving as soon as someone wants to start acting up and getting all crazy though."

"Deal." She chuckles. You've learned how to dress up a little more— and by a little we mean baggy sweats, a crop tight fitting tee and chapstick. No way in hell you'd get dolled up for a party. Out of the years you've already been here, you probably went to two parties. One being the party Coach Chu threw at his house for a record-breaking season. The other was a legit party that you stepped foot in for all of 2 seconds before you figured it was time to head home, especially after seeing Yoongi hugged up with some chick and disgustingly tonguing her down while groping her ass.

Shit, you were never gonna get used to it.

The frat house is fucking packed and wreaks of weed even down the corner. You and Clarice push your way through, greeting people who were acknowledging your presence and waving at your other teammates that were also present.

"More basketball babes have arrived, let's go!" One of the frat guys cheers as you and Clarice make your way to the kitchen where all the alcohol is laid out.

"One shot?" She asks as she already has her hand wrapped around the Svedka handle.

"One and done." You tell her. You shouldn't have let her pour the shot though because now, you're stuck with nasty ass vodka near the halfway mark of the cup. "Clarice, what the fuck is this?"

"It's called savoring our one."

"You're fucked up." You joked as you tap your cup against hers and take the shot in three chugs. "Really fucked up." You wince.

"Come, lets go see what the other girls are up to and hang out for a bit." You follow her lead to the corner of the living room, chatting it up with your team before dancing around in the little corner you all occupied— keeping as far away as possible from sloppy and messy dudes.

You turned to eye the crowd at some point, catching Yoongi coming down the stairs, a female following from behind holding his hand. Then, they disappear to the outside of the house. You swallow the lump in your throat, the room feeling hotter than it already was.

Why he still had this affect on you, you had no idea.

Clarice and your teammates are too busy cracking jokes that they don't realize you've slipped away to get some air. You're finding that the crowd has come bigger in the short amount of time you've been here and navigating through it has become difficult. You're having to bob, weave and shove your way out, letting out a sigh the closer you get to the front of the house. You're also really glad you've been able to steer clear from—

"Shit, my bad." You unintentionally bump into someone making your way to the front from the side of the house due to you keeping your head low.

"Y/N?" You whip your head around to see Yoongi raising a brow, dropping his arm from the same chick's shoulders.

"Hi." You give him a fake, tight-lipped smile and rush your way to the front of the house. Thank god you finally make it because you were starting to feel claustrophobic, even being outside. However, you weren't prepared for Yoongi to come after you and grab your wrist the way he did.

"Wait, I didn't expect you to be here." Out of defense, you quickly snatch your wrist away from his grip and furrow your brows at him.

"Yeah, and now I'm leaving."

"Why, hang out for a bit—"

"And what, Yoongi? Watch you be the life of the party? Watch you walk around all fine and dandy like shit never happened between us?" You feel the tears welling up on your bottom lids, but you promised yourself you would never cry over him again. You refuse to. He had already taken up so much of you that you refuse to give him any more.

"Is that what you really think?" He says, the hurt apparent in his expression. To be frank, no. Yoongi really, really never meant to hurt you. And just like he had mentioned before, he would never forgive himself if he ever hurt you. He hasn't forgiven himself. He hasn't forgiven himself for how he let you slip out of his grasp when it was his own fault for pushing aside his feelings for you. He thought the world of you, the only woman who kept it real with him and stuck by him through the highest of highs, lowest of lows. There was no one as special as you, no one who could ever be as special as you, no matter how many times he tried to sink his dick into other females.

No one was real like you.

But, he was also conflicted because of that. He felt like he couldn't give you the love you rightfully deserved, he didn't think he could love you properly. He had so much to learn and he didn't wanna hurt you in the process. It sounds so fucking stupid [because it is] that he thought distancing himself was better than just being honest. He was a dumbass high schooler, he didn't know any better. But, he never meant to make you feel special for one night, then run from it. You were always special to him. You had always been. You always will be. And these past years hurt like a bitch, but he coudn't find the words to explain. Eventually, he just believed he would do less damage if you both remained distant this way.

Although, he longed for you. He really needed you just as you needed him. He always has, always will.

So when the two of you bump into each other tonight, he felt like maybe, it was a sign. Maybe it was time to stop being childish.

God, he missed your face.

God, he was a fucking asshole.

"No, I'm not doing this shit." You shake your head. "Just— continue to stay away from me, okay? I'm better off without you." The words sting you, but it doesn't sting you as much as it stings Yoongi. You glare at him once more before you turn on your heel and begin walking down the street to head back to your dorm.

"Y/N! Wait up!" Clarice calls for you, eyeing Yoongi as she passes him to catch up with you down the street. "Hey, hey. You okay?" She swings her arm around you when she catches you silently crying to yourself. "What did he do, Y/N?"

"He fucking exists, that's what." You groan. "Ugh, fuck! I'm not supposed to be crying over his dumbass, I'm better than this Clarice— Why the fuck am I crying over it?" You break down, crouching down to your knees, causing Clarice to hover over you and pull you into a hug.

"Maybe you just need to let it out and stop forcing yourself to not feel anything."

"I hate him, I hate him, I hate him." You bawled into your arms. "I hate him so much." She caressed your back. "But he still finds a way to mean so much to me."

"I think it's time for you two to talk."

"I can't. It's just better this way."

"Are you sure? Because look at you, Y/N. You're a mess, and this hasn't even been the first time you broke down about him. As much as you want to believe that you're fine without him, you're not. He was your bestfriend and I think you need him more than you even know yourself."

"He's doing fine without me."

"You don't know that, baby. Dudes are annoying as fuck because they can literally go on about their day and mask that shit well. If he's ready, let him explain. Hear him out. You both may be misunderstanding the entire situation." It takes you a good minute before you can finally gather yourself and make it back to your dorm room with Clarice.

She was right.

But you were so angry more than anything. You were angry and you weren't sure how you could get past it.

He left your side.

And so the next day, you go about your day in class, staying quieter than usual during practice. For the most part, Coach Chu was always on your ass because of how vocal you were and how much you caught an attitude when things didn’t go the way you'd like it to. So, to see you this quiet, almost sullen even, concerns him. But, he already pressed you once and he wasn't gonna do it again to avoid irritating you any further.

You run the usual conditioning drills, practicing play by play before a final scrimmage game for the night. You push yourself hard like you always do, almost coming out of practice dry heaving from how tired you are. It was your bad habit though, you wouldn't quit until you got it right. Until you felt right. And unfortunately, it's another one of those nights where you feel unsatisfied with your performance. So, you take it upon yourself to continue practicing in the empty gym that was set to close within the next hour. You're tired out of your mind, and you know this is probably a bad idea, but you can't shake off the feeling of dissatisfaction. To you, that was the next worst thing. Right behind Yoongi.

You begin to work on your three pointers, lay ups and shots out of range before you start to play a scrimmage game with yourself.

"I'll play you." You suddenly hear, the sweat beads dripping down your forehead at this point. You watch Yoongi as he drops his water bottle off at the side of the court before walking over to you.

"Go away."

"Afraid you'll lose?"

"No, I just don't wanna play your ass." You shot up the ball, only for it to bounce off the backboard and land in Yoongi's hand.

"Ball up. Let's play till 10."

"Why the hell do you wanna play me, Yoongi? Don't you have a random chick to bone?"

"I'm clearly standing right in front of you aren't I? Quit fucking talking and play." He aggressively passes you the ball to check it in, you following suit, making the ball damn near bounce off of his chest with how hard you pass it back. He knew exactly how to rile you up.

You get into the zone quickly, trying to find some kind of redemption for the way you had been feeling lately. Redemption, validation, way to take the edge off— anything, really. It was only until the first person scored to 10, but Yoongi was putting up one hell of a fight, jet black hair parted down the middle and matted to his forehead from the sweat building up. You take the lead, sitting at 8 while Yoongi sat at a sad 6 points.

"Ball." You call out as you scored a layup, ramming yourself against the padded wall with the force you had put up.

"That's 10."

"Ball, Yoongi." You huffed and puffed.

"Stop, don't overwork yourself. You just got—"

"Suddenly you care? Stop being a pussy and pass me the goddamn ball." He furrows his brows as he passes you the ball, crouching down to meet you at eye level to try and guard you. You run towards the right of the court, pulling a pump fake before you pivot to get away from Yoongi's guard. You pivot hard and drive it up to the basket, only to fall on the wrong footing and twist your ankle on the way down. "Ouch, fuck!"

"Shit, Y/N!" Yoongi comes to your side, hand supporting your back as the other is on your ankle.

"I'm fine, leave me—"

"Stop being so fucking stubborn and let me help you." He says angrily. You don't say anything else while you fix your position on the floor. "Can you wiggle it at least?"

"Y-yeah." You wince as you wiggle your foot and roll it around a couple of times. Phew, at least this shit wasn't gone for good. But Coach Chu still wouldn't be happy to hear you sprained your ankle releasing your anger on Yoongi during a dumb game. Yoongi helps you stand, arm around your waist as he throws your arm around his neck and holds you steady by the wrist.

"Try walking on it."

"I can, but it hurts a little." Yoongi sighs.

"You just sprained it. Let's go get you some ice or something at the nursing center before going back to your dorm." You silently nod as you hang onto Yoongi for extra support, careful not to make the situation any worse than it already is. He has you sit on the chair within the nursing center, the nurse coming over to wrap your ankle nicely before giving you crutches and some instant hot compress to pop onto it. She orders for security to drive you two over to the dorm building in their go-cart so that you wouldn't have to do much walking on your foot while you focused on healing.

Yoongi doesn't leave your side, even after you've walked into your dark, empty dorm room, not really knowing where Clarice is at right now [possibly library]. He shuts your door and sits you on the edge of your bed, setting your crutches near your bed side and your instant hot compress.

"You need anything else?" Your head hangs low as you slightly chuckle and shake your head.

"Why are you doing this?" You ask him lowly before looking back up at him, tears clouding your vision. "Hm? Why, Yoongi?"

"You're hurt, why wouldn't I—"

"Hmm." You hum. "I'm hurt? So where the fuck were you after prom night? When I was hurt then, where the fuck have you been?" You began to cry.

"Y/N." His tongue swipes over his lips before he sighs. "I'm sorry." He says, close to a whisper.

"Are you? Because I don't think you really understand how bad you hurt me." You aggressively wipe away your tears while continuing to look at him, his body language soft and full of regret. "You didn't care about me."

"How could you say that? I cared—" He sighs as his head drops for a second. "I care about you more than you know."

"If you did then why the fuck was it so easy for you to drop me the way you did?!" You yelled. "You just don't do that to the people you care about, especially if it’s your bestfriend."

"Look, you're right. I have no excuse for the way I acted, and if I could turn back time to re-do it, I would. But I can't, and the only thing I can do is apologize and do my best to make it up to you." His bottom lip trembles as he steps closer to you, a small frown forming at the corners of his mouth.

"Yoongi." You cried. "I did everything for you, I stuck by you through everything, even during the times you didn't deserve that shit from me. But I stayed! I stood by you because you meant everything to me and god—" You groaned. "I needed you. I needed you and you weren't there! I fucking hate you for doing this shit to me but part of me will always have love for you no matter how fucked up the situation is. I will always drop everything for you. I will always care about you, and it's so unfair." It broke Yoongi's heart and he didn't know what to say, but he wraps his arms around you anyway, keeping you in a tight hug against his chest. He's surprised that you let him, even more surprised at how he feels your body soften under his touch.

"Fuck, I'm so, so sorry bub." He says lowly as he presses a kiss on top of your head. "I'm so sorry."

"Please don't ever go again." You cry against his chest.

"No, I'm not. I'm gonna be right here." He says hugging you tighter. "You're the only one who's ever understood me, who's ever kept it real with me. I don't deserve you, but I know damn sure I'll work hard to make up for letting you go in the first place." He places another kiss on top of your head. "I'm right here. Not going anywhere. I'm so sorry."

- - -

"THE STANFORD BOYS TAKE THE CHAMPIONSHIP!" The commentator screams into his mic, Yoongi running a lap around the court before he's cheering loudly with his teammates and joining the group hug. You run down the bleachers, dashing straight into Yoongi's arms while he swings you around.

"That's what I'm fucking talking about!" You squeal and giggle as Yoongi places you back down and plants multiple kisses around your face, hands resting on the small of your back.

"Let's get out of here." He whispers in your ear.

"I'll wait at your car, bighead." You wink, causing him to smile that gummy smile of his that you adore more than life itself.

There's obviously a huge party going on tonight to celebrate this huge achievement, but Yoongi says he doesn't wanna join for once. He's happy, yeah. But the way he wants to celebrate is in peace. After so long, he feels like he can finally say he's content with where his life is at and where it's going. He drives over to the nearest beach, backing into a space so the both of you could sit in the back and try catching all the shooting stars up above. Yoongi leans against the side of the trunk, allowing you to lay your head on his lap while you curled up beside him listening to the waves slowly crash against the sand.

"Saw one." He says, looking up at the sky.

"You're a punk, no you didn't."

"What?" He laughs. "How are you about to say that? I caught it with my own two eyes."

"Oop! I saw one!"

"Now that's a lie. I was looking up too."

"Shut up." You laugh, causing Yoongi to tickle you along the sides before he stops and plants a kiss on your lips. It's silent for a minute while the two of you take in the night view— The sky and ocean coming together as one, forming a view that seemed endless.

"Hey."

"Hm?" You hum as Yoongi's fingers gently brush through your hair.

"You know I love you right?"

"Ew with the sappy shit, Min Yoongi." He laughs.

"Seriously."

"I know." You smile up at him. "I love you too."

"Come here." He says softly, tugging you upwards. You sit up, allowing Yoongi to press his lips against yours. He pulls you in by your shirt, having you straddle his lap while he grips onto your hips and immediately grinds against you. You let out a small moan feeling how quickly he hardened, his cock hitting you in the right places as you continue to grind on him. "Fuck, wanna feel you babygirl."

"Here?"

"Yeah." He chuckles and bites onto his bottom lip.

"What, all of a sudden you're scared?"

"Fuck off." You fire back, releasing his hardened member from its confines as you stroke him gently. He tilts his head back in pleasure before tugging your shorts and panties to the side, enough for him to cop a feel of how wet you are.

"Baby's all wet."

"What're you gonna do about it?" You whisper against his lips, biting onto his bottom lip and pulling back slightly. He hisses at the sensation before he moves your hand from his cock and takes control. He pushes you upward, positioning you enough to line up with your entrance.

"Take this shit off."

"Yoongi, we're in public."

"So, you're all talk and no play."

"I hate you."

"Nobody's here." He groans. "Just take off your shorts, pleeease." He begs as he slowly strokes himself. You toss aside your shorts, Yoongi immediately hooking his finger at the bottom of your panties and tugging it aside in order to push himself into you. He does enough before he lets you do the rest of the work and sink down on his length, a gasp leaving your throat as you take all of him in. He grips your hips tightly, setting the pace as he groans into your neck, your fingers tangled in his hair resting at the nape of his neck.

"Shit, babe." You moan as you tilt your head back.

"Fuck, you always ride me so well." He presses light kisses against your neck before he's nipping at the surface.

"Godddd why do you feel so good?" You whimper.

"You like how I feel inside of you?" You nod. "Yeah? Like how my cock fills you up?"

"Never gonna get tired of it." You moan, Yoongi making you pick up the pace aggressively. Besides the waves crashing, the lewd noises of skin slapping against skin fills the car, along with your soft moans and Yoongi's groans. Your clit is constantly rubbing against him, causing the pleasure to build so quickly it becomes overwhelming. You try to hold off as much as you can but—

"My pretty baby. All I fucking need." He almost growls, the words enough to send you over the edge. You let out a loud moan, not even caring for the houses nearby as your orgasm hits hard and ripples throughout your body, sending aftershocks. Yoongi continues to have you ride him fast and hard, the overwhelming sensation causing a hint of pain to mix with more pleasure until you feel him feel you up. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" He groans as his nails dig into your skin, giving two good thrusts upwards into you to help ride out his high. You both sit in the position for a minute, trying to come back down from your highs. Yoongi gives you a delicate peck on the lips, smiling into the kiss before he pulls away. "Swear you're all I need."

"See, I don't know if I could say the same." He smacks your ass as you hike up and off of him to put on your shorts.

"Take it back."

"I'm kidding." You blush.

"My ride or die. Are you with me?"

"Always have been. Are you?"

"You know I am."

"Good. You know it takes two." He smiles before pulling you into another hug and pressing a kiss against your temple.

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dangermousie · 3 years

Note

Heelo mousie! Love your blog! Do you mind recommending some of your favourite Chinese BL novels or shows?

I've seen the untamed and read it. I'm currently reading heaven's official blessing and I saw the donghua. Anything other than these two?

Awww, thank you!

Novels: I am gonna be lazy and literally copy/paste the entire danmei section of my top 10 web novels post (except MXTX’s stuff since you are already reading it.) Let me know if you need help finding any of these.

Lord Seventh - I am only partway through this so far, but it’s already on the list because it’s smart and somehow intense AND laid-back (not sure how this works, but it does) and is honestly just a really really solid and smart period novel, with the OTP a cherry on top of a narrative sundae. Plus, I love the concept of MC deciding he is not going for his supposedly fated love - he’s tried for six lifetimes, always with disaster, and he’s just plain done and tired. When he opens his life in his seventh reincarnation and sees the person he would have given up the world for, he genuinely feels nothing at all. (Spoiler - his OTP is actually a barbarian shaman this time around, thank you Lord!)

Golden Stage - my perfect comfort novel. Probably the least angsty of any danmei novel on this list (which still means plenty angsty :P) It also has a dedicated, smart OTP that is an OTP for the bulk of the book - I think you will notice that in most of the novels in this list, I go for “OTP against the world” trope - I can’t stand love triangles and the same. Anyway, Fu Shen, is a famous general whose fame is making the emperor antsy. When he gets injured and can’t walk any more, the emperor gladly recalls him and marries him off to his most faithful court lackey, the head of sort of secret police, Yan Xiaohan. The emperor intends it both as a check on the general and a general spite move since the two men always clash in court whenever they meet. But not all is at is seems. They used to be friends a long time ago, had a falling out, and one of the loveliest parts of the novel is them finding their way to each other, but there is also finding the middle path between their two very different philosophies and ways of being, not to mention solving a conspiracy or dozen, and putting a new dynasty on the throne, among other things. It always makes me think, a little, of “if Mei Changsu x Jingyan were canon.”

Sha Po Lang - if you like a lot of fantasy politics and world-building and steampunk with your novels, this one is for you. This one is VERY plot-heavy with smart, dedicated characters and a deconstruction of many traditional virtues - our protagonist Chang Geng, a long-lost son of the Emperor, is someone who wants to modernize the country but also take down the current emperor his brother for progress’ sake and the person he’s in love with is the general who saved him when he was a kid who is nominally his foster father. Anyway, the romance is mainly a garnish in this one, not even a big side dish, but the relationship between two smart, dedicated, deadly individuals with very different concepts of duty is fascinating long before it turns romantic. And if you like angst, while overall it’s not as angsty as e.g., Meatbun stuff, Chang Geng’s childhood is the stuff of nightmares and probably freaks me out more than anything else in any novel on this list, 2ha included.

To Rule In a Turbulent World (LSWW) - gay Minglan. No seriously. This is how I think of it. it’s a slice of life period novel with fascinating characters and setting that happens to have a gay OTP, not a romance in a period setting per se and I always prefer stories where the romance is not the only thing that is going on. It’s meticulously written and smart and deals with character development and somehow makes daily minutia fascinating. Our protagonist, You Miao, is the son of a fabulously wealthy merchant, sent to the capital to make connections and study. As the story starts, he sees his friend’s servants beating someone to death, feels bad, and buys him because, as we discover gradually and organically, You Miao may be wealthy and occasionally immature but he is a genuinely good person. The person he buys is a barbarian from beyond the wall, named Li Zhifeng. It’s touch and go if the man will survive but eventually he does and You Miao, who by then has to return home, gives him his papers and lets him go. However, LZF decides to stick with You Miao instead, both out of sense of debt for YM saving his life and because he genuinely likes him (and yet, there is no instalove on either of their parts, their bodies have fun a lot quicker than their souls.) Anyway, the two take up farming, get involved in the imperial exams and it’s the life of prosperity and peace, until an invasion happens and things go rapidly to hell. This is so nuanced, so smart (smart people in this actually ARE!) and has secondary characters who are just as complex as the mains (for example, I ended up adoring YM’s friend, the one who starts the plot by almost beating LZF to death for no reason) because the novel never forgets that few people are all villain. There is a lovely character arc or two - watching YM grow up and LZF thaw - there is the fact that You Miao is a unicorn in web novels being laid back and calm. This whole thing is a masterpiece.

Stains of Filth (Yuwu) - want the emotional hit of 2ha but want to read something half its length? Well, the author of 2ha is here to eviscerate you in a shorter amount of time. This has the beautiful world-building, plot twists that all make sense and, at the center of it all, an intense and all-consuming and gloriously painful relationship between two generals - one aristocratic loner Mo Xi, and the other gregarious former slave general Gu Mang. Once they were best friends and lovers, but when the novel starts, Gu Mang has long turned traitor and went to serve the enemy kingdom and has now been returned and Mo Xi, who now commands the remnants of his slave army, has to cope with the fact that he has never been able to get over the man who stabbed him through the heart. Literally. This novel has a gorgeously looping structure, with flashbacks interwoven into present storyline. There is so much love and longing and sacrifice in this that I am tearing up a bit just thinking of it. If you don’t love Mo Xi and Gu Mang, separately and together, by the end of it, you have no soul.

The Dumb Husky and His White Cat Shizun (2ha/erha) - if you’ve been following my tumblr for more than a hot second, you know my obsession with this novel. Honestly, even if I were to make a list of my top 10 novels of any kind, not just webnovels, this would be on the list. It has everything I want - a complicated, intricate plot with an insane amount of plot twists, all of which are both unexpected and make total sense, a rich and large cast of characters, a truly epic OTP that makes me bawl, emotional intensity that sometimes maxes even me out and so much character nuance and growth. Also, Moran is my favorite web novel character ever, hands down.

Anyway, the plot (or at least the way it first appears) is that the evil emperor of the cultivation world, Taxian Jun, kills himself at 32 and wakes up in the body of his 16 year old self, birth name Moran. Excited to get a redo, Moran wants to save his supposed true love Shimei, whose death the last go-around pushed him towards evil. He also wants to avoid entanglement with Chu Wanning, his shizun and sworn enemy in past life. And that’s all you are best off knowing, trust me. The only hint I am going to give is oooh boy the mother of all unreliable narrators has arrived!

The novel starts light and funny on boil the frog principle - if someone told me I would be full bawling multiple times with this novel, I’d have thought they were insane, but i swear my eyes hurt by the end of it. I started out being amused and/or disliking the mains and by the end I would die for either of them.

The Wife is First - OK, this one did not make my top 10 web novels but it’s a sweet, fun gay cottagecore fest. Our ML, a royal prince, and his spouse, a smart if delicate aristocrat, keep house, eat noodles, play with their pet tiger, make out and spoil each other rotten, while occasionally fighting battles and outwitting their court enemies. It’s so very mellow. That couple redefines low drama - they are both nice and functional and use their brains. It’s as if a nice jock and a nice nerd got together and then proceeded to be wholesome all over the place.

I mean, the set up could be dramatic - our ML the prince, lost his fight for the throne and is about to be killed. The only person who stayed loyal to him is his arranged husband the aristocrat guy who ML never treated nicely since he resented marrying him (marrying a man in that world is done to remove someone from the ability to inherit the throne.) And yet the husband stood by him not out of love but beliefs in loyalty blah blah. Anyway, he transmigrates back into the past right after their wedding night and is all “I got a second chance OMG! I don’t want the throne what is even the point? I want to live a good long life and treat the only person who stood by me really well!” And he proceeds to do so to the shock of the aristocrat who had a very unpleasant wedding night and generally can tell the man he just married would rather eat nails than be married to him. But soon enough (no seriously, it’s not many chapters at all) he believes the prince is sincere blah blah and then they get together and they pretty much become cottagecore goals.

In terms of dramas, I only do period dramas (or novels) so I am not the person to be able to recommend any modern BLs. There is a flood of upcoming (hopefully) period BL dramas but it’s relatively thin on the ground now. The two I will recommend is Word of Honor (which is AMAZING) and Winter Begonia (which I just started watching but which owns me already.) I have a tag for both - the one for the former is huge and I cannot recommend either strongly enough. I’ve heard good things about The Sleuth of the Ming Dynasty, but I am not big on mysteries so haven’t watched it for myself.

In terms of the upcoming BLs, the ones I am most looking forward to are Immortality and Winner Is King, but The Society of the Four Leaves also looks promising.

#asks #cdrama #cnovel

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everyhowlmarksthedead · 4 years

Text

YOU DON'T LOOK LIKE MY UBER DRIVER

Marcus Alvarez x Reader

Anon asked: Hey, could you do an imagine with Alvarez where the reader is a very close friend of Chucky and once she brought peach pie to the club and he's there for a meeting with Bishop, and she ask him if he wants some and she's overall really kind with him and his boys that he's surprised to see someone so nice to them even if it's the first time they met?

Thanks to my lovely beta reader @chibsytelford ✨

Word Count: 2.5k

Author comments: I hope you all enjoy. Gif isn't mine, credits to the author.

Tag list: @starrynite7114 @chibsytelford @dazzledamazon @mara-mpou @sammskellington @gemini0410 @1-800-imagines @briana-mishell24 @sassymox @whyisgmora @aquamento @sadeyesgf @viviansafizada @samcrobae @jade770 @witchy-wish @rebel-without-cause-x @xx--day-dreamer--xx @spiced-reads @tita127 @ifoundmyhappythought @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat ✨ (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

Chuckie and you have been friends since four months ago, when you move from San Diego to Santo Padre. There was no reason to do it, you just feel tired of being you whole life living at your hometown, and you were looking for a change of scenery. You opened a bakery store in the center of the small city and he was your first customer. You thought he was a somewhat weird, until you met him a little more. Chuckie was kind and pretty gentle, so that made easy to turn you two from strangers into good friends. So, when he asked you to go to his birthday party, you didn't surprise. He also wanted to introduce you to his friends, even if you already met one called Happy, who was strangely kind when he tasted your pancakes. The biker with rough look told you they reminded him of what his mother used to prepare for him. At that point, you really stopped judging people by their looks.

Chuckie didn't ask you for a birthday cake, but you thought it would be a good gift cook his favourite one. Peach and cream.

Parking at the entrance of the car scrapping, you hold the big cardboard box between your arms with a extreme care as if it was a bomb, following the rows made by scrap and the latin music sounding somewhere. You reach a crowded yard with a blue house in the middle of it and a lot of motorbikes around. You have already heard about the Mayans, but it's the first time you're there feeling somewhat small and lost.

“Yo! Man, who's that piece of art?” Angel says, among Coco and Gilly on the porch, watching you looking for Chukie.

“I don' know, let's see, hermano”. Gilly smirks at him, hitting his chest with a soft gesture.

“Can we help you, mami?” With a strong mexican accent, a skinny and tall man comes closer to you, pulling away the long strands of hair from the roots to the back of his head.

“Yeah… Ahm… Chukie?” You reply in a shy mood consuming you. “I'm (Y/N)”.

“He's insi—”.

“Hey, love!” A familiar voice interrupts him behind you.

“Happy! You're here too!” The man places an arm on your shoulders, taking the toothpick from his mouth to leave a kiss on your left cheek.

“Cake, uh?”

“Yeah. It's a present for Chukie”.

“You know her, brotha'?” Gilly asks then, a little bit curious.

“She has a bakery store here. Chuckie's friend, and also mine. Don' mess with her”. Happy's scratchy voice doing that warning makes you feel somewhat safe, even if they don't look as bad as you heard. “Come with me, love”.

Raising your chin like a farewell, for the moment, you let the man guides your steps inside the clubhouse where the music is a little low than outside. The men there are older than the other, sharing beers and laughs surrounded by a lot of girls. Girls that, by the way they have to caress and treat every one, you know what they are. But you don't even care.

“(Y/N)! You came!” Chuckie's excited voice claim for your attention, walking somewhat faster towards him when Happy lets you go, leaving the cake on the wooden bar so you can hug him tightly.

“Happy birthday!” You say before giving him a kiss, pointing after that the cake.

“Smells like peach! I accept that!” He looks like a five years old super excited, holding your hand to accompany you to a large room with a huge table in the middle of.

The men inside looks at you with curiosity, getting up from their chairs.

“That's my good friend, (Y/N)”.

“Nice to meet you, kid. I'm Tranq”. A big and tall one comes closer, narrowing your hand as you show him your best and dearly smile.

“Che Romero to serve you, but you can call me ‘Taza’”. Another man, the oldest one but with a kind smirk on his face does the same gesture.

“Bishop Losa, querida. A pleasure to meet you finally. Chukie talks a lot about you”. El Presidente hold your right hand gentle, leaving a paternal caress on the back of it.

“Yeah, they talk about you all too. I'm sorry it took me so long to finally come”.

“We know about your bakery store, and that box you brought… smells pretty good from here, sweetheart”. Tranq says supporting his forearms on the top of a chair, making you chuckle.

“Is it yours?” An unknown man, with mexican accent and a light whistle pronouncing every ‘s’, appears at your back.

“Yes, sir”. You nod turning above your sneakers, feeling a soft jump shaking your heart when you focus your gaze on him.

“Marcus Álvarez”. He raises a hand on air, taking you some seconds to react, narrowing it when you start to feel stupid.

“(Y/N). Nice to meet you”. You just say.

“C'mon! I want to introduce you to my north Cali friends!” Chuckie sound so excited that makes you laugh, saying goodbye with a hand to the men smiling at you somewhat warm.

You can't help but being so obliging with everything. Helping the prospect to take more beer from the warehouse, helping with the barbecue and the music. You just want to contribute at Chuckie's party because he's your friend and you want to make him feel the most special man on earth, at a day like this. You're having a lot of fun going from a side to the other, sneaking with other Mayans, mostly with Angel who looks so interested in dancing with you, in the way to help someone else. They're like a big family around California and some nearby states. And you felt like part of it since you put a foot there.

“Hey, kid, have a rest!”

Tranq has a hand raised, making a gesture to come closer. Leaving the box of Jose Cuervo over the bar, you nod walking towards the men you met at the main room a couple hours ago. Taza makes you some space by his side at the sofa, falling down there actually feeling somewhat tired. Bishop opens a beer for you, offering it before sitting in front of the sofa.

“Are you having fun?” He asks.

“Yes! I've never been in a… party like that. I like it. Reminds me to my family”.

“All drunk and a little high?” Tranq laughs, exactly like you do.

“Yeah, more or less. I'm from San Diego, but my family are from Guadalajara”.

“So you're used to this kind of celebration, but without the bikers part”. Taza jokes a little, making you nod again.

“What about Chuckie and you? Just friends?” Seems like Bishop wanted to ask that a while ago.

“Just friends. He was my first customer. He's cool and smart. And knows a lot of things. But, just friends”. You say then, understanding that they want to endorse their friend.

“Chuckie is a good man. Somewhat weird. But he's loyal”. Tranq ads then, drinking from his beer with pursed lips.

“I assume you're single”. Bishop says leaning forwards somewhat above the table.

You laugh a little bit nervous and ashamed, covering your mouth slightly with a hand.

“I'm just asking to protect your ass from my dogs”. He assure infecting his laughter to the others, knowing well that he's referring to the first men you met before finding Happy. But you also know there's something else hiding behind that question.

You're not stupid. You have seen sideways Marcus looking at you at four times. And even if you didn't asked him about his gazes, looks like he wants to talk with you and doesn't know how to do it without scare you. Guns, long rides, a lot of risks… Sounds like it's not easy to live with. And, because of their behavior, family is the most important thing for them. Put something like that into a danger it's not an option. But even if it's just your thoughts not being sure if he's interested, you could try. You hear him talking with other women there in a gentle way, taking care about them as only a good man, and also a good father, could do. The work he does, doesn't determine how he is. And you like it. You like him since you heard his voice, feeling that good energy around as soon as he was close to you.

The night passed by, between more beers, tequila shots and pieces of the cake you made. It's been a long time since you had some fun. Everyone is delighted with it and you're more happy than other days because of the alcohol. And because of that, you decide to take a first step, knowing that you probably are going to regret it. So getting up, and pretending you're okay, your steps follow Marcus direction to the room they called Templo.

“Hey!” You say, sounding more excited than you should. “Did you taste the cake?”

The mexican turns at you, surprised at first because he didn't expect you. Smiling at you, he just simply nods wearing the black leather kutte after clean it with a wet rag, looking shiny than a while ago.

“Good!” You reply feeling truly stupid, not knowing what you can say to continue the talk. But he's staring at you like if he was waiting for something else. Like you leaving, for example. “Well, I just… I'm goin' home and I was asking myself if you liked it, 'cause you don' look seem very talkative”.

“It was a long day”. He says walking closer to your position. “You're not going to drive, aren't you?”

“No, ahm… Chuckie told me I could leave my car here, so I'm gonna call an Uber”. You shake your head, making a gesture with your left hand to take away its importance.

“Where do you live, ah?”

“Second avenue, next to the post office. It's ten minutes walking, but Angel make me dance too much”.

That's the point. That's the hook ready to fish, and you don't know how the hell you have thrown it in such an amazing move. Marcus doesn't say anything about it, erasing the relaxed gesture from his face.

“It was a pleasure…” Focusing on the vest, you read one of the patches. “Padrino. I hope you enjoy the party”.

He nods in silence before seeing you turn over your steps to walk outside of the room. You say goodbye faster than you would like, promising that you will come back soon, looking for Chukie after that. He's with Happy next to the Mayans bikes sharing some drinks and old memories.

“Hey, guys!” With both hands into the pockets of the jacket, you smile at them.

“Are you leaving, love?” The taller one asks, giving you back two kisses.

“Yeah, I'm kinda tired and I should work tomorrow”. You say before hugging Chukie tightly. “Thanks for inviting me, it was pretty fun”.

“I'll visit you tomorrow anyway!” He says blissful as always.

“Cool! Good night, guys”.

“Rest, love”.

At least you can walk straight through the hallway of the scrapping, right to the street. Rubbing your face with both hands, you feel like an idiot about the idea of Marcus having some interest, hoping he thinks you drunk too much. By the way, the fresh and cold air of the dawn helps you a little, crossing your arms before reach your car. You look at it, ready to drive it, but doesn't look like a good idea. So you finally leave it there, continuing with slow steps to the outside of the place, until the roar of an engine calls your attention. Turning aside, you find him stopping at your position.

“C'mon, I will take you home”. The mexican is giving you a black helmet, turning off the bike.

“Oh, no, no. Don't worry”. You say with pursed lips, feeling the shame running through your body, pretending you're waiting for the Uber car with your phone in a hand.

“C'mon, chamaca”. He insists moving his arm again, knowing that he'll not take ‘no’ for an answer.

Biting your lower lip, you nod holding it to sit behind him. Wrapping his waist with both arms, you try to relax yourself on your way back home, noticing that he's driving slower than normal. But you're not going to complain about it, resting your chest on his back getting somewhat comfy until he reaches your avenue. Then, the nerves return again when you have to point the building where you live at. Marcus parks there, letting you get up first.

“Thank you”. You just say pretending that everything is okay, while you return him the helmet.

“The cake was delicious”.

Raising your gaze from the keys you were looking for, your eyes go straight to the darkest. Now, he is who wants to talk, although he doesn't sound insecure as you did. You smile like an idiot, playing with the key chain and the nose bridge slightly wrinkled.

“I don't know if you are into the date game, bu—”.

“Yeah, tell Angel I would like it”. You're teasing him for making you wait and making you feel stupid for some minutes. And by the way his steps towards you stop dead and the look on his, you know it worked.

“I will”. He just replies back, tightening the gloves around his wrists.

“Really?”

“Sure, chamaca”.

You laugh somewhat funny, taking another step closer.

“You should see the look on your face”.

“I don't know what are you talking about”. He gives you his back somewhat prideful, keeping the helmet you used into a bag hanging by a side of the motorbike.

“You were looking at me”. You finally say licking your lips, after clicking your tongue slightly.

“Looked like you were part of the fam'”. He answers automatically, sitting on the bike with both hands catching the handlebar.

“Was it bad?”

“No. I actually liked seeing you taking care of my boys, when no one asked you to do it”. Even if that sounded a little passive-aggressive at the end, doesn't stop you to come closer enough to face him.

“I would really like to have a date with you, if that it… was you were to ask”.

“What if it wasn't?” Now, Marcus is playing your same game, at least, you hope it.

“Me sentiré aún más pendeja”. (I'll feel more stupid). You chuckle rubbing your nose in a nervous gesture.

The man laughs because of your words, shaking his head for a while. Then, he nods.

“I want it. Maybe I asked mi primo if he could find out what was going on between you and Chuckie”.

“Just ‘maybe’?”

“I'll pick you up tomorrow night. At seven?”

You lean towards him, leaving a soft kiss on his right cheek as a way to accept it.

#mayans mc x reader #mayans mc #mayans mc imagine #mayans x reader #marcus alvarez imagine #marcus alvarez x reader #marcus alvarez

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reflectionofthearcher · 4 years

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There is a story I want to tell you and this story is about Taylor Swift's song, Clean.

Hello. We may have met before, or this may be my first post that you see. There is a story I want to tell you and this story is about Taylor Swift's song, Clean.

I was recording while drawing, but I shot normal video instead of fast motion. Since the video was an hour and five minutes, I couldn't upload it here. There may also be a problem with quality. I can't believe I will finally upload it after all the misfortune. Also the voice you hear in the back is mine. I made a cover for Clean with my ukulele after I cried "a little bit".

1989 days have passed since the song and the 1989 album. I want her to know how meaningful this song is to me. I would be very happy if you tag @taylorswift @taylornation .I never had the opportunity to thank her face to face, but at least I can do it here. Thank you very much with all my heart.

I am fighting cancer for the third time. I lost some of my sight due to cancer. I received chemotherapy and radiotherapy. Especially in my current war, Taylor's art has always helped me. All her songs are pure art, yes, but there are a few very special songs for me. If you're reading this, I don't want to take your time by listing all the songs I love. But today I want to tell you something about Clean. This song is very important for me as a cancer fighter.

The song may be telling the moment when a person completely came out of your life and you realized and accepted it, but there are many different aspects. I think this song is about something that has been chasing you for a long time. It became a part of you.There seems to be no way out of that thing, but you desperately want it to end. You want it to leave you. You have always lived your life according to that thing and all your decisions depend on it, your dreams are limited by it, and because of it, you are in a circle. You try to escape but you just keep turning in that circle. You always find yourself in the same spot. Fight. Win. Start again. Again. Again. That thing is cancer for me.

I would list my favorite parts from the song and it would be a long list. But if I had to, I would choose this sentences.

It was months, and months of back and forth,you're still all over me like a wine-stained dress I can't wear anymore.

Hung my head, as I lost the war, and the sky turned black like a perfect storm.

Rain came pouring down when I was drowning, that's when I could finally breathe.

There was nothing left to do, when the butterflies turned to dust, they covered my whole room.So I punched a hole in the roof, let the flood carry away all my pictures of you. (Pictures from hospital, mostly)

The water filled my lungs, I screamed so loud but no one heard a thing.

Said, I think I am finally clean.

Now that I'm clean I'm never gonna risk it.

And why is this song so important for me? I will summarize as much as possible. These parts will be written with italics. You can just skip it if you want. I would like you to read, but of course you don't have to. In this fight, I received ten more cycles of chemotherapy and had a surgery. Everything was slow and terrible. Then they said I needed radiotherapy, but classical radiotherapy was too risky for me. My doctors asked me to go to Germany and get Proton treatment.

After all the slow paperwork, I came to Germany with my mom. But the doctor here said that I would lose my vision after proton treatment. I was asked to decide. I tried to ask for help because this was horrible. I did not get any answers from my doctors who suggested me to get proton therapy before. I felt like they were running away from me because they didn't want to take responsibility.

Among the side effects, the biggest risk was vision loss. I already have very little vision and it is very valuable for me. I don't know how to explain this. it's like an issue between me and cancer. When I was a baby, my first tumor was in my eyes and it stole some of my sight from me. I did not want the cancer to win more. But they said that if I do not receive proton therapy, my disease will recur. So if I wanted to keep my vision to myself, I had to take the risk of a new cancer fight.

On March 20, I met my doctor again from the proton center because other doctors did not talk to me much. She said, "It's been a few months since your surgery. I understand you're waiting for your previous doctors' opinion, but I don't know how much it will work on you even if you take proton therapy."She also said, "If you want, you can save the proton treatment option to the next possible tumor. But you will have an MRI and endoscopy every six weeks. You should be followed by your doctor closely."

And I did that. I chose my vision. I said no to the treatment for now. I came here to the building where I stay with children and their families who are fighting against cancer too. I cried a little. Then I recorded Clean. Maybe it's clear from my voice, I don't know.

So now, I need close follow-ups. But there is no close follow-ups. I am waiting In Germany. Far away from my home and in another country. I can't go anywhere because of the virus. I could not reach my doctors, but now the whole "connection" has been lost due to the virus. I do not know what to do. Sometimes I feel like I can't take it anymore but I am trying my best. But now, I just want to be clean.

Thank you for reading this. You can alao find this drawing on Instagram, here.

#taylor swift #taylorlurking #taylor talks #swifties #lyrics #we stand with taylor #clean #1989 #1989 era #taylor swift cover #taylor swift drawing

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bewitchingwitch · 5 years

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Great Gatsby au pt. 2

Hey guys sorry for not posting lately I’ve been super busy! But school is gonna let out soon and I’ll be able to update a lot more :) so I hope you enjoy the second part to my Great Gatsby au a reader x Theseus fic

Word count: 2,802

Warning: mentions of smut

The fireworks burst over the mansion in array of colors. Everyone cast there eyes upward to see the light from them shimmer down. A chorus of oohs and ahh's mingled among the crowd. But your eyes remained in the balcony where Jay Gatsby has been standing a moment ago. Theseus kept his eyes on you watching the blues and pinks form the fireworks highlight your skin in a warm glow.

He thought about how breathtaking you looked in this lighting and how he had been in love with you from the moment he saw you at that memorable quidditch game. How he had spent basically the last decade watching you gallivanting around with other men.

Coming by your apartment in the morning with breakfast only to find some random guy stumbling out of your apartment in only his trousers, pulling his shirt over his head. And Theseus would turn to go home because those moments were the hardest.

He needed to talk to you about his feelings because as he watched you stare up at the balcony he knew that if he didn't someone else would take his place. Gatsby was all that was swarming in your mind.

He watched you make a move forward. You darted straight into the crowd of people that blocked the stairway. Theseus tried to grab onto you and nearly missed your hand. But he secured it and pulled you back, you stumbled into his chest.

"What's the rush?" Your face heated up as you let yourself enjoy the moment of having your face pressed against his warm chest. He swayed slightly to the music, he had his hands placed on your hips and you could feel them ever so slowly sliding their way down lower.

"We need to find Jay Gatsby, you know the drill." You looked up with your big doe eyes. He started at you watching your (y/e/c) eyes reflect the colors that surrounded you.

"Well yes but no one said we couldn't have a little fun." He pressed himself closer to you and twirled you around slowly. The music was fast pace and you weren't with the tempo of it but you didn't care. His cologne was so strong and you were so close together it felt as if you were the only two standing in the room.

You forced yourself to snap out of the moment and push slightly away. You felt his grip loosen. "We're on a mission Theseus not a date." You said with a slight edge in your voice.

Theseus have you a hurt expression but he quickly covered it. "Fine. But it seems as if your mind is on something else other than just taking Gatsby in for interrogation."

"What?" You asked surprised.

Theseus pursed his lips and titled his head up, his eyes still stayed on you. He took his arms away from you and crossed them over his chest. "I think you fancy Gatsby."

You rolled your eyes, but heat still consumed your face. "Theseus that is-"

"Absolutely true." He cut you off.

You looked up at him. Why was he getting so defensive? So what if you liked the way Gatsby looked. It was hard not to. "Why don't you like Gatsby?"

"I never said I didn't like him."

"Well you're acting like you despise the man when you never even met him." You cross your arms over your chests mimicking Theseus' stance.

"And you're defending a man you don't even know. One who is a criminal in bootlegging alcohol and one who is known to be a womanizer." He spat at you. You took a step back, never in your entire time of knowing him had Theseus talked to you like this. With coarse words and distaste. He never lost his temper with you and you knew something was off with him tonight but you just couldn't place it.

"I know what he's described as being. And so what if I "fancy him" we're not here for me to snog him or for us to fix his morals. We're on a mission and I'm going to get the job done whether you help or not." You turned on you heel before even seeing his reaction.

You didn't know if he was calling out your name, it was too loud to hear anything around you. You pushed past people to get to the stairs that led to the balcony. You would mutter a few excuse me's but it was all lost in the noise of it all. You didn't turn back you figured he would probably follow you; he always did. He never wanted you to get hurt.

As you walked in long strides you glanced around you noticing the number of women that had shown up in warring nothing but their bras and panties which covered basically nothing. Theseus' words came flodding back to you, one who is known to be a womanizer. You noticed that theses women too had wandering eyes as if they too were looking for Gatsby.

One girl who was wearing red lingerie and a big feathery headdress let her eyes wander over to Theseus. She licked her delicately painted lips and swayed her hips as she walked over to him. She was nearly his height with her enormous heels on, she didn't even need to tip toe to whisper in his ear like you did. She draped an arm around him and leaned in whispering something into his ear. You felt jealousy squeezing tight into your heart. He remained expressionless as she ran a hand through the back of his hair. He kept his eyes locked on you. You turned a light shade of red.

You quickly turned away you didn't want to see her undress him with her eyes. You still prayed that he'd follow you although by now he was probably sliding her panties down her legs and taking her the way you always dreamed he'd do to you. Running his calloused hand over the curves of her breasts. You'd shook your head in hopes of getting rid of those revolting thoughts from your mind.

You made your ways to the top of the stairs and stood at the top of the balcony gripping the rail. You turned behind you and noticed that Theseus wasn't there. You were naive to believe that he’d follow you after the way you spoke to him. And after that girl had made a move on him. Of course he wouldn't tag along he would be with that girl.

Speaking to him like that was surreal. You never raised your voice at him and come to think of it you'd only ever seen him raise his voice at work. When he was on the phone or with unmanageable employees. As soon as he'd see you though he'd regain his usual cool composer. Pushing back his hair, a few curls always escaped the gel when he got riled up, straighten his tie. Then if he was on the phone he'd cover it and tell you it was just a little spat. If you had walked in on him yelling he'd lower his voice and talk to the employee through clenched teeth in a stained tone until you left. Once you were a couple paces past his door you'd hear him yell at the employe again.

It always made you giggle to yourself. The fact that he not only never wanted to seem cruel to you by raising his voice but wouldn't even want to raise his voice in your presence.

Even on the days when you were completely insensible and would yell at him. He would just sit there and take it because he knew he wasn't the cause of your distress. He knew that you were probably having a rotten day and just needed someone to be a sounding board for you. Even though he could yell back because it would be completely justified he didn't. So he sat there and took it because, unknown to you, he loved you.

You leaned on the rail and looked out into the crowd. You saw him and noticed that the skimpy girl was no longer wrapped around him. She was a couple feet away with a huffy expression. Theseus stood alone in the middle of the floor, he had a glass of champagne in his hand, his eyes still looking with this longing gaze at you. You were so mesmerized by his stare that you didn't notice someone had come to stand behind you.

"It's a wonderful view isn't it." A warm breath tickled your neck and you jumped in surprise.

Jay Gatsby was standing behind you. "No need to be frightened baby I don't bite." His American accent was charming, he gave you a toothy grin as he moved to stand next to you, leaning against the rail with his hands in his pockets.

"What if I bite?" You questioned.

"Feisty. I love that in girl. I like the ones that don’t fall for charm so easily." He moved a little closer.

"What does your charm usually work on most women?" Your face was dusted in a light pink.

"Usually." He bit his lip. "But you seem to be the exception miss."

"Well its a pleasure to be the first to do so. " You batted your eye lashes at him.

"May I ask your name."

"It's (y/n) (y/l/n)."

"A beautiful name for a beautiful woman."

You rolled your eyes playfully. "Does that usually work."

"It has so far but I see all my typical tricks aren't gonna work on you. Pleasure to meet you (y/n) I'm-"

"Jay Gatsby." You cut him off. "I know who you are. Me and my boyfriend were looking into getting into your bootlegging business."

His eyes brows crinkled together as a scowl settled into his features. "You have a boyfriend." He said it like a statement not like a question. He grabbed two glasses of champagne from a passing server. He handed one to you.

"Yes. But he's not so good at," You paused to take a sip of your drink. "keeping me satisfied. If you know what I mean." You played your role so well it had Gatsby fooled.

"I believe I do." He placed his hand on yours. "It's a bit loud at here don't you think? Why don't we go some where," he leaned in brushing your hair back to whisper in your ear, private." You nodded

You looked into the crowd, Theseus was still watching you. He raised his glass up to you as fireworks exploded behind him. A soft sad smile played at the corners of his lips. He then took a sip. That was all you saw before Gatsby led you away from the noise.

********************************************

Theseus watched you disappear into the darkness with Gatsby. He made his way to the bar, you knew what you were doing you could take care of your self. He tried to convince himself that you were seducing Gatsby for the mission not because you actually wanted to get into bed with him.

He ordered a drink from an older man, he slid the glass down the bar and Theseus took it giving the bar tender a nod in response. He fiddled with his glass watching the liquid swish back and forth.

He shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. But he couldn’t bear to see you with one more guy. Especially someone like Gatsby who he knew could be the one that could con you into a life with him. You were meant to be with him. He thought about all the things you would do together and how you were practically already a couple, expect without certain benefits.

Theseus would come over to hang out Friday nights. His favorite day of the week, in which you guys would go out to dinner or to the cinema. It would make him feel like you two were actually going out on a date.

He would get all dressed up and bring flowers over. He looked forward to it and you would dress up. You would put on your best dress and heels. You both would walk down the streets of London together or wherever you wanted to go, if you wanted to travel you guys would just apparte there.

Hand in hand and people would comment on how cute of a couple you where and when you wouldn’t correct those people he would feel like maybe there was a chance that you liked him back. When you’d blush and say yes he’s a good boyfriend and he treats me well.

He needed to tell you. It had been practically a decade that he had silently suffered by your side. Playing the best friend, trying to pretend that he didn’t care when you flirted with other men. How you’d lick your lips or lean over on their desk so they could see down your shirt.

It was worse when he caught you in the act. Although it was just once. He’d never been able to get the memory out of his head. He had come to surprise you with dinner on your way home from work. He had a key to your apartment and it was Friday night he didn’t think about knocking. Because it was his night when you guys were supposed to go out. He dropped off the food he had brought on the counter. He had gone to your favorite restaurant in London and brought your favorite food. It was about a year or so, he had been planning on telling you about how he felt that night.

He closed the door behind him and placed the food on the counter. He shrugged off his jacket he called out your name but heard no response. He twirled the keys on his hand. He figured you were probably in your room. He walked in with out thinking. “Hey (y/n) I just brought over some-“ he stopped talking. He had just walked in on you riding some guy from work. Your breasts were on full display for him.

When you saw him you screamed and turned a bright red telling him to get out. Trying to cover yourself with the blanket from the bed. He quickly shut the door and left your apartment, all thoughts about confessing to you pushed back to the very back of his mind.

The only thing that consumed it was the memory of you riding that guy. And now as he drank more and more the memory care rushing back to him. He’d never been able to get the memory out of his head. They way you moaned so lowly and then slowly got louder. The way you’d encourage the guy mumbling yeah yeah right there and praising him every time he hit that spot. The way your tits bounced up and down every time you would plop back down onto that guys dick. The way you back arched and your body was covered in a glow of sweat. You were an absolute goddess.

He could only imagine what it would be like to having you riding him. And he knew he had no right to think about you in that way. But at times like this when he was slightly drunken or when he was totally wasted and would stumble home this thought would consume him. How it feel to have you ride him mumbling praise and screaming his name. The fact that he’d get to touch you in places he only ever gotten to in dreams. How great it would be to kiss you with so much passion, to see you at work covered in love bites from the previous nights dirty deeds.

He shook his head trying to clear his mind of theses thoughts. Theseus downed the rest of his drink. He needed to tell you before Gatsby found his way to his bedroom and slid your sparkly dress down your ankles. He needed to find you and tell you how he felt.

Because after all this time it wasn’t just lust. It wasn’t just that he wanted you as if you were some prize to be won. He loved you. And he couldn’t stand to watch you love any more men. Because you were meant to be with him.

He pushed away from the bar and began to walk briskly towards the stairs talking them two at a time when he reached them. He only prayed that it wasn’t too late and he’d catch you and Gatsby. Because he knew that if he did there was a chance he could never win you back. There was a chance that for once you might not come back to him.

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#fantastic beats and where to find them #theseus scamander #theseus x you #newt and theseus #theseus fanfiction #theseus fluff #theseus and newt #theseus x reader #theseus imagine #crimes of grindleward #fan fiction #great gatsby au #1920s #crimes of grindelwald #my writing #late night #party #gatsby party band

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