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the-everlasting-dream · 4 years ago

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Cookies - The Perfect Cliche Part 3

A/N: Wow okay its been a YEAR since I’ve touched this but better late than never right? Idk who’s interested still so I’ll tag a few people.

Tags: @ooo-barff-ooo @saivilo @burnsoslow @client-327 @i-miss-trr @gkittylove99 @tinkie1973

‘Bitch you did what??’

‘I know I know,’ Elizabeth mumbled around the spoonful of ice cream in her mouth, dragging a hand down her face. ‘It just happened I just reacted and… I didn’t mean to hit him in the face.’

‘Yeah no one means to hit their insanely hot neighbour in the face,’ her best friend replied sarcastically. ‘What did he say? He must have been pissed!’

Elizabeth hesitated as she scooped another mouthful of raspberry ripple into her mouth, straight from the tub. ‘He actually let me use his shower after that.’

‘WHAT?!?’ Athena’s screech was loud enough to break the sound barrier and her eardrums. ‘You mean to tell me that you were naked in that man’s apartment while he was also in that same apartment? How did you not get laid?’

‘Are we forgetting how just moments ago I’d hit him in the face with a wooden spoon? And I feel so bad about that,’ Elizabeth rushed on before her friend could get a word in. ‘I made him cookies.’

‘Cookies?’ There was a snort over the line. ‘What are we twelve?’

‘What was I supposed to do? Offer him sex instead?’ She winced immediately, knowing she shouldn’t have given Athena the opening.

‘You know I would have. At least if I was still single of course.’

‘What would you be doing if you were still single?’ A male voice could be heard in the background of the call followed by a string of giggles which Elizabeth could only assume was from his ticking his girlfriend. ‘Hey Liz.’

‘Hey Damien.’

‘Ready for the interview today?’

‘As I’ll ever be I guess.. I mean its just for the bar down the street.’

‘You’re gonna crush it babe,’ Athena chirped enthusiastically. ‘Go in there and give em Cece from New Girl vibes.’

‘Yeah we’ll come celebrate with you after,’ Damien promised.

‘Thanks guys, I gotta go or I’ll be late,’ she replied, shrugging on her jacket as they chorused their goodbyes. Giving herself a once-over in the mirror, Elizabeth put on her most winning smile before grabbing the plate of cookies off the counter. Loudly knocking twice on the identical door from hers across the hall, she set them gently on the floor before rushing off to her interview.

We have to talk. Tonight 8pm.

The single text message no doubt forecasting impending doom lit up Drake’s phone screen from where he’d left it that morning on the kitchen bench top. Cursing himself for forgetting it, he’d rushed back home to pick it up on his lunch hour, only to find a plate of cookies at his doorstep. Now it and the handwritten Sorry again! note from his neighbour Elizabeth — he could tell by the spider drawing — lay forgotten to the side as he ran a hand through his hair, sighing in frustration.

Kiara was mad. Again. He’d fucked up again. Somehow. No amount of wracking his brain would do him any good now. Just when things were starting to improve, or so he thought. All he seemed to be doing was making her mad lately.

Absentmindedly, Drake shoved a cookie in his mouth before thinking better and grabbing the rest to eat on the long trek back to the office. - ‘You got the job!’ Athena wrapped her friend in a bear hug.

Elizabeth chuckled wryly, ‘Its just a bartending gig, Thee.'

‘Still! Its your first big girl job you got by yourself. No longer a debutante of the north, we’ve got a working city gal over here!’

‘Complete with a shitty boss and everything. Did you know he asked me if this is the highest neckline I own?’

Athena wrinkled her nose as they continued down the street. ‘Ew are you sure you want to work there babe? You know I could get you a job at my magazine place right? Just say the word and I’ll make it happen.’

Elizabeth was already shaking her head. ‘Thanks again but no thanks. Like you said this is my first real job that I’ve gotten myself. If I’m going to be independent, I’m gonna have to take my chances.’

‘Well you’re a trooper,’ her friend announced, linking her arm through hers. ‘Anyway, this calls for a treat. Lets go out tonight! But first can we stop by your place? I gotta pee so bad.'

Getting dolled up together was something Elizabeth didn’t realise she’d missed. Athena had moved to the city years ago and she was starting to think she should have done the same.

‘C’mon Liz! D and Nadia are already waiting,’ her best friend yelled from where she was scrolling through her phone on the couch.

‘I’m coming!’ she yelled back, applying that final coat of lipstick before pressing her lips together to make that perfect pout. Just as she stepped out of the bedroom, there was a knock at her door. Athena gave her a quizzical look before leaping up to answer it as she reached back into the room to grab her other earring.

‘Is Elizabeth here?’

She poked her head out to see Drake leaning against the doorframe, tie hanging loosely around his neck, offering her a half smile.

‘Oh.. Hey Drake.’ Her voice was breathy as she crossed the living room, trying to ignore Athena who was furiously mouthing something probably inappropriate from behind the door where her neighbour couldn’t see.

He handed her the plate. ‘Thanks for the cookies. Came in handy today.’

Elizabeth swallowed as their fingers touched for a moment. ‘You’re welcome. I’m glad they did. So… um you done with work?’

‘Yeah. Might head out for a bit later. You look like you’re on the way out yourself.’

‘Yeah,’ she chuckled. ‘I got a new job so my best friend is taking me out to dinner.’ Why was she telling him this? Why would he care?

Drake nodded. ‘Well I’ll leave you to it.’

‘Thanks. And again I’m so sorry about the…’ Elizabeth gestured awkwardly at the fading bruise on his face.

‘Don’t worry about it,’ he called over his shoulder, retreating back into his apartment.

She’d barely closed the door, before Athena pounced on her.

'That’s him?? Thats the guy?!?'

'Thats him.'

'You hit him in the face.'

'I did.'

'I can’t believe you hit him in the face.'

'I know.’

Athena suddenly shoved her roughly. ‘You should have invited him out with us! He said he was going out a little later anyway. C’mon girl!’

‘I can’t! He has a girlfriend for starters!’

‘Who from the sounds of it is halfway out the door!’ Athena licked her lips. ‘Did you hear his accent? Soooo sexy. Must be some kind of European..’

‘Beats me,’ Elizabeth deflected.

‘Imma beat your ass if you don’t snatch him up soon,’ her best friend threatened playfully as they grabbed their bags. ‘Now come on Nadia’s already sent me seven text messages.'

‘Whatever it is Kiki, I’m sorry,’ Drake began even before he entered Kiara’s lavish penthouse. ‘Its not you, its me. I’ll do better I promise.’

The elegant diplomat gave him a pointed look before turning on her custom Jimmy Choo’s as she lead him further into the apartment. ‘That’s just it Drake, I don’t think you can do better.’

His brow furrowed, shoulders sagging. ‘What do you mean?’

‘You heard me,’ she replied almost nonchalantly, flipping her hair over her shoulder. ‘I just got a call from Sara Burton, Alexander McQueen’s creative director. She’s uninvited me from her fashion show next week. The same fashion show I was supposed to take Princess Marguerite of Monaco to as part of our efforts to broker a trade with her country. Do you want to know what reason Ms Burton gave me?’

She barely paused, steading herself against the mantlepiece before continuing on. ‘She told me that you were drunk at her show last week and told one of her aides that her entire collection looked better as fishing tackle than as clothes.’

Drake snorted without a hint of remorse. ‘I stand by what I said. No one on God’s good earth needs a fishnet jumpsuit. No one.’

He instantly regretted the words as Kiara’s face flushed with anger.

‘Mon Dieu! You don’t understand! You never did! This is not about the outfits, its about grace and finesse and being strategic in what you say and do. My parents warned me about you. They said you couldn’t handle the pressures of the nobility and sooner or later you’d only bring me down with you.’

He tossed aside the roses and chocolate, a belated peace offering. ‘Bring you down? Is that all I am to you Kiara? An accessory to your status? A means to an end?’

Her eyes narrowed in fury. ‘Don’t you do that! Don’t you dare twist my words like that when I’ve done nothing but make you comfortable with who I am for our entire relationship.’ She sucked in a ragged breath. ‘You think yourself above all the flattery and finery, living by your own rules but what your arrogant ass forgets that some of us make our livelihood to protect king and country this way.’ ‘

Don’t hit me what that holier-than-thou bullshit now,’ Drake interjected. ‘You know just as well as I do that shit is just a farce. Just ass-kissing and brown nosing your way to the top to get where you want to be.'

‘If that’s what you think I do, then you never knew me at all,’ Kiara declared with finality, tears shining in her eyes before she turned away from him. ‘Let’s stop fucking pretending, shall we? We’re way too different for this to work. Everyone else can tell. We’ve only been fooling ourselves for the last three years.'

‘Kiara…’ He came up behind her, so close but not touching. Was she really doing this? 'How did we get like this Kiki?’ He asked, barely daring to whisper. ‘Surely we can figure this out...'

‘We can’t.’ When she spoke, her tone confirmed what he knew all along. ‘What we had died out a long time ago.'

‘Kiara please..’ Drake could hear the desperation in his voice now. ‘Please don’t do this.’

‘It’s done, Drake. We’re done.’

‘Ki-‘

‘Please leave.’

She didn’t even turn around. Drake hesitated for a moment before obeying. In the elevator, frustration broke and he punched the walls hard enough to make the lights flicker. As soon as the bell dinged for the ground floor, he headed towards the nearest bar.

- Elizabeth was still smiling when she unlocked the door to her apartment. She had needed the dinner with her friends more than she’d realised. Now for a goodnights sleep before her first shift at the bar tomorrow...

A loud banging on her apartment door woke her up hours later, shaking her out of a deep sleep. Her bleary eyes found the clock reading 1.51am. More banging followed by someone yelling.

This is how I die. Alone in avocado pjs, strangled to death in my own bed by a lunatic who’s probably the Zodiac killer reincarnated.

Whoever it was didn’t seem to plan on stopping. She debated with herself for a moment longer before hastily reaching for her robe, turning on each light in the apartment as she passed it, grabbing a wooden spoon for good measure as she passed the kitchen. The sounds were clearer now, it almost sounded like someone was moaning in pain. As she inched closer Elizabeth was able to hear a word, a name.

'Kiara..'

Why did that name sound so familiar?

Just then her door handle started jiggling and she brandished her weapon more fiercely ready to strike. Before she had time to react, it burst open to reveal... her neighbour Drake.

Clearly drunk off his face, he stumbling into her living room, swearing as his shoulder caught against the doorframe. The impact sent him teetering precariously but somehow he still managed to keep his balance, moaning out Kiara’s name as he peeled off the henley he was wearing. Wrestling to take it for a second, is knees buckled and he sprawled face first onto her couch.

Elizabeth remained frozen and to anyone passing by must have looked quite comical, standing shock still in her pyjamas, hair in a messy bun and eyes bleary from sleep with wooden spoon raised in the air above her head. It wasn’t until Drake let out a snorting breath that she was shocked out of her stupor.

Ohmigodohmigodohmigod. What the hell just happened?

Her very attractive neighbour was on her couch, shirtless and blackout drunk at 2am.

What the hell New York??

Elizabeth did the first thing she could think of. She dialled Athena then immediately hung up.

Its freaking 2am woman. Get a grip.

Taking a deep breath, she shook her head coming to her senses that there was nothing she could do about it now. Placing a glass of water and an aspirin on the table beside Drake, she turned off all the lights and crept back to her bedroom, shutting the door for good measure. - He must have forgotten to close the damn blinds again because it felt like the sun itself was shining on the other side of his eyelids. His head was already throbbing and when he swallowed, his throat felt like sandpaper. Blinking grains of dust out of his eyes, Drake gradually came to his senses and his vision cleared to reveal the words of a graphic tee with an avocado on it, reading Hardcore.

Wait… This wasn’t his apartment!

He shot up to a sitting position, the action making him nauseous as the pounding in his head only intensified.

‘Rough night?’

A woman’s voice took him by surprise and with effort he turned to see the owner of the avocado shirt, his neighbour Elizabeth sitting on the armchair across from him...

#the royal romance #choices #drake walker #trr #trr au #choices fanfiction #elizabeth richmond

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dweetwise · 4 years ago

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day 18: panic attacks

prompt from: whumptober pairing: felix x ace notes: fluffy angst, idk if this even qualifies as whump but it’s what i went with <3 warnings: panic attack descriptions word count: 1920

Ace is having a rather good day, all things considered. He finishes his second generator of the trial while Feng is still doing a phenomenal job at being chased by the killer, and he even has time to stop and search a chest in good conscience.

He picks up a broken key with a worn brass token, which isn’t ideal but he’ll add it to his ever growing pile of junk back at camp anyway.

In the time it takes him to find a generator, the Nurse has finally managed to down and hook Feng, but someone saves her right after and the chase beings anew. Ace would guess the rescuer was David and that he used borrowed time to make sure the gamer made it out, since he can’t see Felix being stupid bold enough to unhook in the killer’s face like that.

With the Nurse’s distant screeches providing some pleasant background noise—considering it’s not Ace she’s chasing—he gets to work on a nearly completed generator by one of the exits. If he finishes it before the killer comes to check, it marks their fourth completed objective of the trial, and it looks like they’ll have an easy escape provided she doesn’t have the obnoxious totem perk to ensure an instant down after the gates are powered.

At first, Ace doesn’t question why someone would have abandoned the nearly completed machine, but just before he connects the last two wires, he hesitates. Will this be the last generator on this side of the map? Maybe someone wanted to leave it because it’s by an exit?

He gets up to look around a bit, trying to spot any other nearby generators, but then he hears it.

A sob.

Ace frowns in worry and keeps looking around, not seeing any signs of life. Did he imagine it? Feng is the only one injured, and her moans of pain can be heard from halfway across the map. The girl is a lot of things, but quiet sure as hell isn’t one of them.

He remembers the key in his pocket, a normally useless item with an underwhelming add-on that will allow him to see his nearby teammates for only a couple of seconds. But right now, it’s exactly what he needs, and as he channels the item, he eventually makes out a human form cowering in the corner next to the exit gate.

The key’s power dies out but Ace doesn’t care, carefully approaching his distressed teammate.

He should have guessed who he’s going to find just by basic deduction, as Feng is still keeping the Nurse busy somewhere in the Asylum and David is one to push forward through sheer stubbornness. It still takes him by surprise to notice Felix, normally so calm and collected, huddled in on himself with his knees drawn close to his chest and his head buried in his hands.

Ace suddenly feels very out of place, and he realizes he could just slowly back away and Felix probably wouldn’t even know he was ever there.

But Felix doesn’t seem to be just taking a mental break from the trial, he looks to be struggling. His entire body is trembling and he’s taking sharp, wheezy breaths, bordering on hyperventilating.

And Ace might not be the best at offering comfort, but he sure as hell is going to try.

“Hey,” he offers softly as not to spook Felix, but from the way Felix’s head snaps up in surprise, he’s not successful. Shit, he’s never seen the guy so upset, looking utterly broken with tears and snot running down his face and taking short, shaky breaths. It make’s Ace’s cold, selfish heart clench in sympathy and he slowly kneels down on Felix’s level, far enough away to hopefully not feel like he’s cornering him. “How you holding up?”

That’s probably the dumbest thing he could have asked, but at least it makes Felix react, quickly wiping at his face and averting his eyes.

“F-fine, sorry—” Felix starts, but then his trembling voice breaks on another sob and he hides his face behind his hand in shame as another wave of what Ace assumes to be a panic attack hits.

Ace has never been good at dealing with emotions, his or others’, but he’s learned a lot after being swept up by the Entity and trying to keep everyone in their little group happy and healthy. He knows that Dwight needs to be held when his anxiety surfaces, and although that position is usually reserved for Jake, Ace has been the body for Dwight to cling to on a few occasions when others were unavailable. On the other hand, when something triggers Quentin’s PTSD, the boy wants nothing more than to be left alone, and even the smallest touch will send him spiraling deeper into his own head.

“It’s alright,” Ace says, trying to keep his voice calm and even offering an encouraging smile. “We’ve all been there.”

That seems to calm Felix down some, so Ace optimistically deduces that maybe his presence does help after all.

This is a vastly different situation from Dwight or Quentin, though. Where Ace mostly sees himself as a somewhat shitty parental figure to the boys, he’s been openly flirting with Felix ever since the other got here. And despite Felix sometimes awkwardly flirting back, he fully expected their relationship to stay at the casual friendship level.

But this is huge step, and if Ace manages to comfort him without hiding behind shitty jokes and Felix allows himself to be vulnerable, maybe that’s a sign they could eventually be something more.

“Just say the word and I’ll be on my way,” Ace starts. “But I also have a pretty good shoulder to lean on, if that’s something you think might help.”

Felix glances at him and Ace tries to keep the smile on his face despite his own nerves surfacing and mixing with the worry for Felix already there.

“Are you sure?” Felix asks, voice nowhere near steady but at least being able to form a complete sentence.

“Of course!” Ace reassures without even knowing which option Felix is referring to.

And then Felix looks back at the ground and curls in on himself further and Ace tries not to be disappointed. He’s already moving to get up, an apology ready on his tongue, when Felix shuffles along the exit gate wall to make room for Ace to join him.

The grin that forms on his face might not be the most appropriate considering the circumstances, but Felix doesn’t protest, in fact he immediately buries his face against Ace’s shoulder and clasps his arm in a death grip as soon as he takes a seat next to him.

Felix takes shallow breaths against him and Ace doesn’t care that his shirt is getting stained with wet tears and snot, suddenly hit with how intimate the entire situation is. His own nerves resurface and his free hand hovers awkwardly in the air, not sure if it’s appropriate to touch the distressed man.

But in the end, he’s a gambler, and so he gambles, placing a hesitant hand in Felix’s hair as he remembers the other is usually messing with it when he’s nervous.

When the only reaction he gets is Felix gripping his arm tighter, he carefully starts running his hand through the locks, slightly disheveled from where Felix has no doubt been doing the same.

“It’s okay,” Ace says, trying to keep his voice steady and hoping Felix can’t hear his heart hammering in his chest. “You’re okay.”

“I’m going to get crows,” Felix chokes out through the tears.

“Doesn’t matter,” Ace reassures, discreetly looking up to try to spot the birds that should already be circling above Felix’s head. “Feng and David are keeping her busy. She’s got no reason to come here.”

Ace frowns as he realizes can neither see nor hear the Entity’s spies, despite knowing their captor’s rules clearly state the birds should be giving away their location by now.

The key sits heavy in his pocket and he suddenly realizes maybe the Entity wanted him to find Felix. Regardless of how Ace feels about the otherworldly being, he knows it’s not satisfied unless the trial has been what it considers “fair”. Maybe it’s giving them a time-out until Felix is in shape to continue, and maybe that’s why Feng still hasn’t been caught, despite being injured against one of the strongest killers.

“Seems like the crows are on their lunch break,” Ace voices his observation in hopes of reassuring Felix. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”

Not surprisingly, the knowledge that he’s not on a time limit seems to calm Felix down some, and the grip on Ace’s arm loosens as the sharp breaths slowly turn into more deliberate ones.

“That’s it, deep breaths,” Ace murmurs and keeps petting Felix’s hair since it seems to be working, or at least not making the situation worse. “You’re going to be fine.”

He has no idea how long they sit there together, with Felix slowly coming back to himself and Ace offering generic encouraging sentiments he hopes are somewhat helpful, lost in their own little bubble while the trial carries on without them.

When Felix eventually pulls away, Ace feels disappointed, even if he finally gets some much needed blood flow to his arm that has fallen asleep a while ago.

“Fuck,” Felix sighs and leans his head back against the tiled wall with a dull ‘thud’. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“I’m not,” Ace offers with a small grin. “But I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“I didn’t expect one in the middle of a trial,” Felix says, letting Ace is on the fact that this wasn’t a one-off. “Thank you. You, um, helped. A lot,” Felix says bashfully, and Ace has to resist the urge to pull him back into his arms.

“Don’t mention it,” he says instead, and when Felix just gives him an adorable, tiny smile, can’t resist adding a cheeky “There’s a lot worse ways to spend a trial”.

“I’d say being a liability and making a complete fool of myself isn’t something I’m eager to repeat,” Felix mutters, but he’s still smiling, so Ace hopes he’s not still embarrassed.

“Honestly, I’m surprised I didn’t make the situation worse,” Ace jokes. “Or that my brain didn’t implode on itself from not making jokes or flirting for five minutes.”

“You were perfect,” Felix says so earnestly it takes Ace completely off guard, and he’s not blushing he’s just suddenly really warm okay— “I should get back to my generator,” Felix seems to remember, looking over Ace’s shoulder in the direction of the machine. “I’ve wasted enough of everyone’s time for today.”

“If there’s anything we have plenty of, it’s time,” Ace reassures, pushing himself off of the wall and ready to join the trial.

He offers a hand to help Felix up, and it makes him smile when Felix only hesitates for a split second before accepting the gesture.

“You know, we should do this more often,” Ace says with a grin as he pulls Felix up on his feet. “I mean, preferably without the panicking. I didn’t mind but it didn’t exactly look like you were having the time of your life.”

Felix huffs out a small laugh at the statement, and then he squeezes Ace’s hand that’s still clasped in his.

“I’d like that.”

#whumptober2020 #no.18 #panic attacks #dead by daylight #fic #riconti #dweetwrites #ace visconti #felix richter #dbd #prompt #felix x ace #dbd fanfic #mental illness cw

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babychimchimsbaby · 5 years ago

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With Her

Pairing: Jungkook x Y/N

Genre: Angst

Warnings: I used fuck like three times

A/N: This is my first fic EVER. Not even a fic really, barely a drabble. I never thought I would write anything every but as I started, I got really attached. A LOT of this if from my real life. Real emotions and situations that I pulled from. Idk if you are supposed to do that or if its good or bad but it is. I hope anyone who reads will at least relate to some of the emotion and pls leave comments and constructive criticism because I really have no idea what I am doing . Ok well I’m done babbling and I hope you enjoy! :)

P.s. chihuahua syndrome is when you act bigger and tougher then you are when in reality you are smol, either figuratively or physically. I am both. I also have a chihuahua. She is amazing. I love her.

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“Why aren't you with her?”

is the only sound you're able to make when his shoes appear on your doormat.

“I told you I don’t wanna talk about it” he grumbles, pushing past you into your house… your house.

“Yes, please come in” you motion, rolling your eyes while you're at it. He settles himself on your couch. The one covered in green corduroy that he helped you pick out. The one that you were so convinced, was hideous. But of course you caved. His visits always used to come with a comment on how nicely that couch fit in with your decor, accompanied by a smirk and an ‘I told you so’. Now he just sat there, face in his hands muttering something too low for you to catch.

“Ok I’m going to try again,” you sigh, settling next to him a comfortable distance away. “What happened? Why aren't you with her right now? She’s probably drunk out of her mind looking for you, ya kno-”

“Can you shut up for one fucking second?” he snaps. “Please” He winces out. Quieter this time. He looks exhausted. There's a crease in his forehead you've never seen before, softening the tight edges of your own impatience. Your hand instinctively reaches out to soothe him, hoping the soft raking of your fingers through his scalp can somehow melt his recent frigidity and frustration. But before you make contact, you stop. You stop because you lost your right to hold him as soon as he stopped calling. As soon as he surprised you with the fact that they were together. As soon as you realised your fondness for him. Annnnnnd the anger was back.

“Ok well whatever it is, she’s probably still looking for you”

“That’s kind of the problem” he grits through his teeth. Patience running thin, you huff. He has one more chance.

“Listen, whatever’s up your ass, whatever is going on with this- you and her- I don’t wanna know. You said she wanted it lowkey and that you didn’t wanna talk about it and that was fine. I accepted that so I never asked. But that doesn’t mean you get to come to me suddenly when something goes wrong ok? It was your choice and now it's your problem.” You know that was harsh. He was always there when you needed to talk, without judgement, just understanding, but things were different now. He stopped listening to you, just rambling about himself, his opinions, feelings, unsolicited advice. As if his relationship all of a sudden validated him to become therapist of the century; all of his baggage and problems now gone and now he was here to be the hero and help you reach the amazing view from his pedestal. You were tired of it. You wanted your friend back, and maybe just a little bit more.

“I knew something was up when I saw she was talking to Leo again.” He started completely ignoring your previous sentiments. “He fucking cheated on her, how can she still stomach talking to that guy? I mean… I treat her- her exes all are just- how can she go- how could she do this to me Y/N?” he sputters looking at you through red rimmed eyes.

Despite everything, you can’t help but want to sneak in an angry, ‘what did you expect?’ but you know that's not what he needs. You knew this was doomed from the beginning. You three were friends, how else could this end? The first girl he’s liked since moving to your city rejects him, and she breaks up with her asshole boyfriend on valentines day. Both broken and desperate for reassurance and touch, turn to each other convinced it’s fate, convinced it’s love. You desperately wanted to tell him of your disastrous predictions, but they seemed happy. You quelled your need to say something with the blind hope that ‘maybe they’re right. Maybe it’ll work out because it really is love.’ But your silence was mostly from the fact that you might be selfish. Before his first crush, before Her, you and him were having five am conversations about your greatest insecurities, favourite conspiracy theories, and biggest regrets. His constant texts and name in your phone didn’t illicit the giddy, nervous feeling you were used to, but it felt more comfortable. Sustainable. Just when you realised you wouldn’t mind confronting your fears with him, it shatters. So you never told him about how you saw everything play out in your head, scared it was just the jealousy and bias floating in your brain and that he would see it too. It made you self-conscious in front of him for the first time. Suddenly hyper aware of the neurotic, uglier parts of yourself you thought you were beginning to make amends with.

“Kook, she’s drunk you should at least make sure she gets home safe.”

“Ya that’s the thing,” he pauses staring up at the ceiling. “You know she’s basically stopped texting me? Stopped talking to me, seems like she doesn't want anything to do with me, until she gets drunk and suddenly she’s all over me.”

“Well, you know she has her own prob-”

“She hangs out with Leo, did you know that?” he sneers like you were the one inflicting this pain. “They don't just talk on the phone now Y/N”

“She’s always kind of done that and you knew this Kook I-”

“And she never wants anything if I’m not fucking her, like I’m some sort of joke after everything I’ve done for her-”

“Then why are you still with her!” You're done trying to be understanding. Everything you’ve suppressed racing to the forefront of your mind and into your mouth. “You knew all of this! Everything you’re griping about you knew this already! You told me you were ok with it, that you could heal together or some shit. Where did that all go huh? You were each other's rebounds Kook and you knew everything going into it. How do I have to tell you to get you to understand?”

“Well you should have fucking warned me!” he retorts standing up to meet your eyes. You knew this was misdirected anger but it still pissed you off. The fact that he could be blaming you after suffering silently for him for so long.

“Well it wasn’t really my place to say Jungkook!” your brows knit tight, stepping back to pace back and forth in front of him. “You really think you would have listened to me or that we would even remain friends if I told you that I thought you were making the biggest mistake of your life? That I thought it was stupid and selfish that you risked our friendship, the dynamic of our entire friend group so you didn’t feel so shitty about being rejected?” You didn’t let him answer, his lips slightly parted but eyes still swirling with the same intensity of hurt and hate.

“You still could have said something! We were friends, you still could have looked out for me!”

His voice was still accusatory, but at least it wasn't as loud. That didn’t distract you from noticing he used ‘were.’ Were friends. Past tense, meaning not so much anymore. Seems like he noticed it too, eyes going wide, finally with something other than fury. You used this as a chance to speak.

“Fine Kook! You know what? I’m sorry I didn't tell you that you guys were just using each other. I’m sorry that I forgot to warn you of her self destructive tendencies, and I am SO sorry that I was trying to be a good friend by drowning my own feelings so you could finally be with someone that makes you happy. Yes! It is all my fault, I am quite the Disney villain aren’t I?” You chuckled heartlessly, panting, needing more air to fill the spaces left by the words no longer clogging your lungs.

“Feelings- what are you-”

“Calm down it's not like I’m obsessed with you” catching his train of thought before it derails into something it definitely isn’t. “When we were friends,” you continue knowing it still was a low blow, “you still can’t lie that we were good together. It wasn’t rushed or stupid- I mean, we even kept saying how we could teach each other something. Like if we took half of my traits and half of yours, that it would make us better people. You are impulsive and can be self-centered,” you see him grimace at you, hitting him where it hurt. “You admitted it yourself” you defend before he has the chance to rebut. You continue. “And I’m a flighty commitaphobe with chihuahua syndrome, and somehow with you I was ok with that, I wanted to fix it. I was trying to better understand you so I could fix it.” You run your clammy hands through your hair, it all becoming too real, too raw. “I thought that- I dunno, maybe if we tried to understand each other long enough that maybe we would begin to balance each other out. I didn’t hate the idea of you sticking around long enough to do that, but here we are.” You're done. All your cards out on the table, throat raw at the point of no return.

He stood staring at you with a look you could no longer read. You wish he was angry again. It would make you feel something other than the pulsing you could feel in your temples and the stabbing in your gut. He let the silence drag on. You kept trying to be angry, it felt better than feeling tired and guilty and frustrated, all of it swirling together, threatening to come up your throat. Gaining enough courage to look him in the eyes, you saw the confusion swirling in his irises and for a second you let yourself get lost in how his eyes seem to catch every bit of light.

“I-I’m really sorry” he whispers. You would have stopped him, but it wasn’t pity in his tone but regret and a little bit of fear. You didn’t know what to say.

“I wished things could have turned out differently”

“Me too” you sigh, running out of words for this emotion you really didn’t want to nurture.

“I always did find it easier to talk to you” he paused as if to work something out in his head. “And felt oddly… comfortable I guess… I couldn’t help it she just seemed so...” he trailed off leaving you to fill in the blanks. Exciting. Enticing. You thought. There was no way you could compete with that. Not now at least. If he was ok with getting hurt and learning the long way, who were you to stop him? It didn’t matter what was best for him, or at least what you thought was best for him. He didn’t want you. That hurt. Like shit.

“You should go” voice tight with a smile to match

“But wait we aren’t-” as he stands he is interrupted by the buzzing in his pocket. You are already waiting next to your open front door, hoping he doesn’t notice how your eyes stain wet and red. He doesn’t notice.

“You should get that” you say, face frozen and unchanging. He gapes at you, confusion and hurt etching at his features. You place the palm of your hand between his shoulder blades, guiding him towards the outside. “She needs you Kook, c’mon.” offering your best weak smile, gesturing towards his flashing phone with your chin.

He looks like he’s about to say something, hope bubbling its way up into your stomach like the bastard it is, before wilting, as he swipes to answer her. You didn’t peek. You just knew. Slowly you push your door shut until the click confirms its finality. Turning you press your back to the door, the cool wood feeling better then the burning you felt… everywhere. Resting your head against the door you tell yourself that it's the closest you will get from now on. You couldn’t find it in you to cry, instead staring at the layout of your house blankly, waiting to hear the roar of his engine disappear out of your driveway.

#bts fic #bts angst #bts drabble #jungkook #bts jungkook #f2l #not quite to lovers tho lol #hope you liked it

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kinkymagnus · 4 years ago

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Do you have nsfw headcanons or just in general about the other Magnus? The one in the other dimension?

you are an ANGEL i was legit about to make a post like “oh... im in the mood for twi magnus porn....If Only I’d Get An Ask About It” *sighs dramatically*

i dont have any specific ideas in mind right now but i just really love twi magnus? and he deserves to be RAVISHED?

so im just gonna Ramble.

like ok first of all i like to think that twi magnus is,, hm, kind of sensitive

both bc a) canon magnus is touch starved but twi magnus was like “haha you are like a little baby” and isolated himself almost completely for like a century without even hookups and shit, so like. someone PLEASE give my boy some affection. (i am using boy jokingly do not come AT me) and b) ok this is bullshit im making up but i do not care. magnus’s magic has just woken up and didn’t he like canonically say it was part of how he felt/experienced the world? even if he didn’t it’s canon now, fuck you, and like..... it’s waking up again and he feels like he’s opened his eyes for the first time in years, or taken a breath of fresh air--

oh my god i just had. the thoughts. on like, adhd twi magnus and sensory overload. like hnngngnffffhghhhhh fuck fuck he has moments where it’s all too much and he’s feeling different things and his magic is both soothing/helpful while also making it worse kind of, and like, he can hide under a bunch of blankets or take a long shower and like i feel like there’s more here but its just not coming right now.... although i do want alec to help him thru this bc living vicariously through fictional characters but it’s fine

anyway ayfkjs back to what i was saying

twi magnus is pretty sensitive and it’s not like he’s actually inexperienced or really even that shy--he’s quieter, and i feel more flustered and out of practice than canon magnus for sure, but it’s not like he’s blushing deeply at the mention of sex or anything. i love the imagery of twi alec, confident dom, being worried on how he’ll gently ease his sweet soft boyfriend who dresses in modest cardigans and the like into bdsm, if he’ll even like it (oh boy would he look so beautiful in handcuffs, or just tied up and begging and helpless, but obviously alec only wants to do that if magnus would enjoy it)... and then he tries to bring it up and twi magnus, who’s distracted, casually mentions his Sex Cabinet(TM) full of toys and bdsm gear

bc he’s not a prude, he was just like.... isolated. and alone. and kind of frightened. but it’s not like he doesn’t know what sex and kink is, or that he doesn’t enjoy it.

and maybe he blushes a little when he realizes what he’s juts casually revealed--namely, that he loves to be tied up and spanked and called a slut or whatever (magnus just casually talking without like really thinking about what he’s saying if he’s hyperfocused on doing something else, like brewing a potion or painting a tarot card or whatever, and alec loves to ask him harmless little questions and just listen to him ramble on--adhd magnus!)--but alec is just like not only are you precious and cute, you’re also sexy as hell and the hottest man alive

but really tho alec’s just like :O because magnus’s collection is even more extensive than his, DAMN. not what he expected. but you know under all those cute thick layers twi magnus is still, and i say this with deep love and affection, a total cumslut :)

also he’s just a deeply beautiful and wonderful person but you know we’re talking about SLUTTIN’ IT UP IN HERE

so like anyway magnus. sensitive. stay on topic this time. alec loves touching him all over and pulling noises out of him, kissing him and teasing him and just generally like... one, taking full advantage of him being sensitive (again this is more jokey and i don’t think alec would necessarily stereotype him like this, but i have this image of twi alec thinking he’s a virgin because he’s so sweet and modest and like, so sensitive, just a few dirty words get him so wet, and alec can get him to cum so fast, so like, their first time with penetrative sex alec is out here giving him the most sweet and romantic first time he can, and like, he would have done that anyway but it does feel weirdly special taking his virginity, even though twi alec, woke bitch, is fully aware virginity is a social construct. and then magnus, in a fucked-out post “just got dicked down so good” haze, says that was the best and biggest dick i’ve ever taken and alec’s like,,,,,,,, ah!) so like

touching him, kissing him, making him cum over and over and over again, and like with magnus’s persmission of course he just loves to fuck magnus senseless and make him orgasm over and over until he’s just a wrecked little mess and he’s all fucked out and whining and incoherent :’)

two, like..... ok idk why but i love the idea that twi magnus at first just... cums kind of fast. like their first time alec slides in (and this is after he’s already eaten magnus out and teased his clit a bunch) and magnus is already coming just from that. and he thinks its embarassing lowkey but alec’s just like 1. you’re cute 2. that was super hot

like literally alec buried himself inside magnus and he immediately came and looked so gorgeous doing it? alec is DOWN FOR THIS.

over time he builds up a stamina again and honestly it doesn’t take that long but like. just those first few times it’s way too soon and magnus is like hiding his face in alec’s shoulder and alec’s telling him how beautiful he is :’)

also ok canon magnus is a screamer and he’s def like... kind of been taught to hold that back, but generally, he’s still pretty loud in bed and with alec it’s not long before he’s confident enough to let himself be

twi magnus tho... he’s firmly like. idk if repressed is the right word, but he’s not letting himself express himself and he certainly isn’t letting himself make pathetic little noises when alec fucks him so like. he’s always biting back loud moans and stopping himself from screaming

but alec starts getting so good at pushing all his buttons (and that first time he came with alec’s dick inside him he couldn’t help the obscene moan he made and alec loved it so much it was so hot) and like, making him lose control that he starts fucking little noises out of magnus more and more until eventually magnus is barely able to stop the whimpers and whiny breathless moans spilling from his lips as alec fucks him and like

after much coaxing, alec taking full advantage of how sensitive he is, and a few small emotional talks, like... they do eventually get to the stage where twi magnus’s inner screamer is free to scream and beg all he wants :’)

but it still comes after a lot of teasing usually and (with magnus’s consent ofc) alec just.. ADORES coming up with scenarios where he gets to like, (usually after tying magnus up) drive magnus crazy with teasing and then basically fuck him so good he “”breaks”” and ends up being a loud little slut the way they both like it, even if magnus feels like he has to be “pushed” or “made” to do it in order to let himself. obviously he consented to being “”made”” to do it and all that, but like a) he just really, really enjoys alec’s methods of “breaking” him (im a slut for alec consensually!!! “breaking” him into being a little slut ive talked about this with friends many times) and b) it just feels... more ok that way, with weird brain logic that makes him more comfortable and less self conscious with being loud and embarrassing like that

also lmao “man i feel embarrassed when im loud in bed because of my insecurities and shitty past relationships. i know! i’ll make it part of my humiliation kink”

i feel like twi magnus has less of exhibitionist/humiliation kink than canon magnus, although he def likes it, especially the humiliation/praise aspect (i feel like those two absolutely have to be intertwined for him to enjoy it tho), which like with. canon magnus it’s like aw, big powerful prince of hell crying and begging like a slut, while with twi magnus he is powerful but it’s less controlled so it’s more about how he’s so put-together and modest and “shy” and quiet but here he is taken apart completely, stripped bare and taking cock so beautifully

but like twi magnus............let him be wooed..........he deserves it... i feel like he’d just be even more into being wooed and just little domestic affectionate things than canon magnus (again both him and canon magnus are the same person in different circumstances and i feel like generally they like the same things, just at different levels, canon magnus also enjoys domestic romance and wooing) but like twi magnus while i think he def would like humiliation kink (albeit mostly in private--maybe once they’ve been married a few centuries he’d be ready for something more hardcore but i feel like he generally would be more private about this, and eventually he might feel safe enough to do that again but like....mmm you know? idk.) i think he would be more into praise kink, and like, while canon magnus is more “mm humiliation kink with a side of praise :)” and loves the praise but also loves alec wrecking him and calling him a filthy little slut and leading him around on a leash, twi magnus is more “mm praise kink with a side of humiliation :)” and he likes alec calling him a slut still but he likes even more when alec strokes his hair and tells him he’s pretty and he’s being so good, and like, he likes being called beautiful and being kissed all over and yes, he definitely like being called a beautiful messy little slut, and being teased, but generally he prefers gentle and soft. that’s not to say he doesn’t want to be manhandled and fucked sometimes, but you know how it is

hey tho one thing canon and twi magnus completely agree on? Being A Cumslut. as they deserve

they love their creampies what can i say (just little! pastries! that alec makes specifically for him!)

but like really tho they both love it

god tho just the imagery tho like.... twi magnus with his cute lil short hair and like his more just overall soft look? and like twi alec, all confident with styled hair and a suit? let them dance! let alec sweep him off his feet and then carry him to bed and they’re laughing and they fall back on the bed and alec’s on top of him, kissing him, and they’re smiling and magnus just feels so happy and loved and alec is just touching him all over and kissing him eagerly, feeling so lucky he gets to have this beautiful man in his arms, under him, in his bed, and like, alec ravishing him, taking off all those layers and finding silk panties and magnus is a little blushy but also like... daring alec to take them off with his teeth you know like ;)

like sure he’s blushing a little (just a little! and like god again the imagery of twi magnus in pretty lingerie just a little flushed but still very eager? aaaAAAAA) but also he very much did this on purpose (not that he could have tripped into them and then gone about not realizing but you know what i mean) with every intent of having alec fuck him in them (or having alec take them off immediately, either way)

also tipsy twi magnus being a giggly affectionate bitch who like has zero restraint and will koala alec without shame. he’s so fucking cuddly. and twi alec, “manwhore” extraordinaire, supposedly the heartbreaker playboy type but secretly a romantic at heart, is just giving him the hugest heart eyes and wrapping his arms around him and cuddling him back (also drunk twi alec just being like canon alec’s wedding vows constantly like just. long eloquent rambles on how perfect magnus is. like, drunk twi alec is just facedown on someone’s couch at a party, monologuing about how beautiful magnus is, while tipsy twi magnus is just snuggled into his side, pressed as close as possible and for once unashamed and not shy at all about this,)

god actually tipsy twi malec--twipsy? lmao--having just super giggly affectionate loving gentle sex tbh, magnus is wearing panties and alec tries to take them off sexily but fails completely and they’re both just laughing and loving the moment and enjoying each other??

also again drunk twi magnus being incredibly cuddly and shameless and loud is amazing to me. he will happily give alec a lap dance, but he’ll also happily just koala him and demand alec be his big spoon. alec is thrilled to see him openly asking for what he wants and initiating cuddles bc he knows magnus adores cuddles and affection but feels like he can’t ask for it, so even if it’s temporary and bc of alcohol he still loves seeing magnus so open about it and like, feeling safe enough to be vulnerable with him on this

also tipsy twi magnus using magic willy nilly and he has a hard enough time controlling his magic normally this is so much worse but luckily he only gets drunk with alec after alec knows so alec is just watching in awe as magnus hums and happily dances around the loft and flowers grow impossibly at his feet

and like also just generally he has trouble controlling his magic like things floating around him absentmindedly, or things changing color, or blue sparks on his hands without him realizing... and like im like picturing alec accidentally startles him and he makes the most adorable little squeak alec’s ever heard and then alec’s knocked back a little so he basically just falls over and not even that hard but magnus is like ohmyGODOHMYGODIMSOSORRY and he freaks out a bit and alec’s like it’s ok sweetheart im fine, i’m not even bruised, and also, even if i was: absolutely worth it for that cute little squeak

AND THE TIPSY SEX THING LIKE ALEC’S KISSING UP HIS NECK AND MAGNUS IS GIGGLING AND FEELING SO HAPPY AND THEIR CLOTHES ABRUPTLY VANISH AND ALEC’S LIKE...........CONVENIENT! AND DOESN’T FREAK OUT AT ALL like magnus has a brief moment of cold almost sober like oh shit what if ive pushed too far and then alecs like god babe youre so talented

and !!! HIS CAT EYES god twi alec had not expected magnus secretly being an immortal warlock would come with sexy cat eyes (of course his brown eyes were also so warm and beautiful and alec loved them) but like he was thrilled they did and distantly he was like should i be more freaked about this? maybe. but honestly he looks so beautiful and he looked way more frightened than he should ever look that i wouldn’t like them, or worse, and that’s crazy bc they’re beautiful and he’s beautiful and i love them

and also he wants to see them full of pleasured tears LOOK I M A S LU T OK

but like ok one last go i just..... twi magnus and bondage, as he deserves,

he like, has been strictly controlling himself and isolating himself and protecting himself so long it’s hard to let go so he honestly really loves it when alec ties him up and fucks him into incoherence, makes him lose control, and like. he gets to be helpless and just let go and feel the pleasure, and alec “”makes”” him scream and beg and take it so prettily, coaxes the sluttiest of noises out of him, and like just

twi magnus looks particularly pretty all tied up and naked bc he’s normally so modest and covered up, so he looks even more gorgeous and slutty legs spread and all tied up, wet and flushed and begging for alec, and alec likes to kiss his little tits and grab his thighs and eat him out until he’s sobbing with pleasure, tease his clit and make him squirt until he’s just achingly wet and sobbing and begging for more, and alec takes pity on him and fucks him nice and hard, fills him up, and just like

again gets him out of his shell, gets him to be loud and shameless and pretty and “broken” and afterwards he’s all fucked out, alec’s taken good care of him and he’s all relaxed and he feels so safe??? and like it feels so good to be vulnerable with alec??? he’s all warm and snuggled into alec’s side and he just. has come a long way.

#trans magnus smut #twi

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carbootsoul · 4 years ago

Text

i was tagged by @katarahairloopies!!! thank u :mwah:

name: leo! @/zeitgeistofnow on ao3, @lazypigeon & @timetohope on here, altho i’m considering uh switching back to not having an art blog :/ i have to think abt it.

fandom(s): ace attorney is my main one rn bc i’m replaying the games with a friend of mine and it’s reminding me how invested i am in the characters!! a lot of my recent fic is atla stuff, altho i’ve been distancing myself from the fandom bc i’ve kinda exhausted my interest in it. finally i’ve been reading a lot of mp100 fic but i don’t think i’ll ever write for it. i just love how dumb all the characters r (with the dubious exception of ritsu)

where you post: ao3!! tbh i always get suprised when people say they write/read fic on any other platform like i haven’t messed around w wattpad or ff.net since middle school... catch up........

most popular oneshot: going just by “one chapter” as the definition of a oneshot, the firestarters, bc it’s fluffy and modern au :) i wouldn’t necessarily call it a oneshot tho bc to me a oneshot shows like, one scene? so like by my definition and your sweet sweet sun makes me crazy (i wanna lay you down and see how you amaze me is my most popular!! (also @ kit u thought UR fic titles were unnecessarily long??? i’ve hit the ao3 LIMIT for characters in titles. it’s about the aesthetic

most popular multichapter fic: sdkjflakjlkj it’s two crowned kings; and one that stood alone, which is a w359 fic i wrote back in late 2017. it’s literally the last fic i haven’t orphaned from when i actually wrote podcast fic (i have 4 other podcast fics but they were all borne out of nostalgia and written after i stopped participating in the fandom). i rewrote all but the last chapter? the last two? about a year ago and i fucked up halfway through so like chapter 6 and 7 are repeated and there’s something missing but i’m too lazy to fix it. no one’s going to read it now anyway :) it WAS the top minlace fic for a little while tho which i take great pride in.

favorite story you’ve written so far: oh that’s a hard question akfsldkfj i honestly like most of them!! and i write a LOT so there’s a lot to choose from. tonight, we are young is def one of my favorites- it was fun to write and i got to explore the ways zuko and yue r similar, which i LOVE to do outside of a zukka/yukka view. you can lean on my arm as you break my heart is one that i’m really proud of? the whole “cooking as an expression of bato’s love” is definitely some of my favorites. a lot of my ace attorney fics would be categoried as my favorites if i hadn’t improved, too, if that makes sense. like they’re no long my favorites because i can see where my writing is shitty and it bothers me, but if i had written them a month ago they’d be my favorite.

fic you were nervous to post: figures 1-5: killing gods def!! it’s a lot more purple-prose-y than most of my fics and it was also written before i’d kinda like emersed myself in the atla fandom so i didn’t have as good a grasp on the general understanding of zuko’s character as i do now. tbh it’s one i’m rly happy w tho!! i have a few people leave really nice comments on it and rereading them makes me really happy. also it was the start of me hating the position of fire lord and being at least passively anti-it in my fics.

how you choose your titles: they’re almost all song lyrics!! only 14 of my 50 words AREN’T song lyrics and about half of those are from before i started writing ace attorney fic lol. sometimes i go into a fic with a song in mind for the vibes and then i usually go with lyrics from that (like in ‘cuz we’re the greatest /they’ll hang us in the louvre), but otherwise i usually pick an artist i’ve been listening to and go through their songs until i find a lyric that fits. sometimes the lyric doesn’t even really fit the fic and i just chose it at random or because i searching up the word “fly” in my spotify library or whatever. honestly i like coming up with titles? i know a lot of fic writers hate it but being able to just use song lyrics is v soothing for me and while i know that most people won’t search out a song just bc it’s a fic title like.. seeing that the title of a fic is a hozier lyric does affect how i read it and i kinda like that.

do you outline? i outline my long form/multichaptered fics with varying strictness. usually anything over ~8k will have some kind of outline. sometimes i go into it with every single scene planned out, sometimes it’s just notes on the side of the google doc that say “it's about MORE family. about how it's not betraying your existing family to find more” and “scenes i want to include: [...]” and “vampires... ngl kinda hot.” i’m trying to outline super strictly less bc i’ve found it’s less fun? but i do try to keep a plot arc in mind. since most of my fics are more character-driven than plot-driven, that usually just means keeping track of what character development i want to happen or what is motiviating the characters.

complete: um everything posted on ao3 i guess. also the MULTITUDE of orphaned fics out there asksfjldkj i always click ‘leave my pseud on’ so if u look up my username you see all of my fics and then a. lot of other ones.

in progress: - a fic titled ‘dad phoenix’ that is actually just a no DL-6 au with defense attorney miles edgeworth and single dad bartender phoenix where neither of them want to date for A While but phoenix gets wrapped up in one of miles’s cases. it’s about family. it’s about writing teenagers. it’s about the background franmaya which is ALWAYS what i’m here for in wrightworth fics - a franmaya werewolf/vampire au because i’m ~gay~ and love rivals to lovers and also franziska and maya both being angry their older brothers r dating each other. - my secret santa fic!! which i can’t talk about much but it does feature toph and zuko and also piandao and jeong jeong???? idk where they came from but they are Part Of The Fic Now also i forgot iroh existed for half the fic and wrote piandao as zuko’s father figure and now i’m in too deep. - a 5+1 bakoda fic (maybe a bato/hakoda/kay fic??? i need to decide. that’s part of why this fic is still incomplete bc i can’t decide which relationship dynamic i prefer) that’s 5 times bato said he loves hakoda and one time hakoda said it back. possibly i have already written him saying i love u back and i need to change the title a little. - retail au klapollo where klavier works at an overpriced boutique and apollo comes in to buy earrings for nahyuta’s birthday. klavier gives him a punch card (one that the store doesn’t actually offer anymore as a bid to get apollo to come back) and all of apollo’s family come in to use the punch card and also give klavier variations on the shovel talk/find out if he’s actually into apollo. - a LOT of atla fics that i don’t think i’ll ever finish :(

coming soon/not yet started: - i want to write some blackmadhi bc they’re.. cute..... and it’s a good excuse to also write athena and i love her - my stuff for yueki week!!! i have NOT prepped enough but hopefully i’ll remember in time! i wrote the prompts in a way that kinda set up stuff i’ve already wanted to write (don’t look at me lol) so hopefully i’ll get at least two or three fics finished in time. - i want to rewrite the wrightworth fic i have about them not getting married bc it was interesting and i like what i wrote about but i think i could have written it better and made it more interesting. rewriting fics is hard tho bc i’m never sure if it makes sense to just edit in the new work or to repost it? and then if u repost it do u delete the old one? conflicting so i might just not

do you accept prompts? totally!!! a disclaimer tho i’m not super into writing atla stuff anymore (most of the atla stuff i’m still writing is something i made a commitment to finish) so if your prompt is an atla one i probably won’t do it :/ basically anything else is fair game tho!! podcasts/aa/sa/uh i don’t remember anything else but like if you search a fandom on my blog and come up with more than two posts about it chances r i’d be happy to write fic for it!

upcoming work that you’re most excited about: oh huh i mean probably the no dl-6 au!!! it’s the longest ace attorney fic i’ve written already and since it’s wrightworth it’ll get more attention than any franmaya fic i write. my standards r so high now tho after getting to much feedback from atla fans... love u all... obviously i have no choice but to pressure my atla mutuals into playing ace attorney. pls ask abt it bc i WIll Give You A Sales Pitch about why you’d like it in relation to atla

tagging: i’m not rly tagging anyone!!! @deadflora if you still consider urself a fic writer also consider urself tagged! also any of my other mutuals who write fic i just can’t think of anyone rn

#leo.txt #thank u!! i think i wrote a lot for this lol #but literally ive been so bored i don't have anything better to do

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jksangelic · 6 years ago

Text

peaches & piercings (m)

↳ rating: M

↳ genre: punk!jimin, e2l, college au, very explicit smut, one-shot, jimin is a whole asshole

↳ pairing: cheerleader!reader x punk!jimin

↳ warnings: explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, sub/dom themes, casual sex, be t r ay a l, alcohol (and weed? idk) consumption, oral sex (male receiving), squirting, thigh-fucking, kind of exhibitionism?, jimin is pierced (that’s all i’ll say), just expect the worst from me tbh

↳ summary: jimin, dipped in hair-dye and pierced in so many places that you just couldn’t keep track, doesn’t think you’re his “type”. you call bullshit.

↳ note: i reallyreallyreally hated this fic. loved the idea, hated how i wrote it. i’ve had this bad boy sitting in my archives for months and months and months and couldn’t gather the courage to post it until NOW! partially because this is an apology fic for my inactivity and more so because i just think i’ve read it too many times that at this point, i’m just being nit-picky and need to move on.

a special thanks to the lovely @14statelier whomst unwillingly received dong pics for the sake of this fic. i’m so glad i found someone as sweet as you to beta for me + become an even better galpal! love u always xx

also thanks to my gal @jungshookz, i’m pretty sure (78% positive) i sent her my idea via snapchat and was probably inspired by her in some way, per usual.

OKAY i’m done you can read now hehehe

↳ words: 11.6k

↳ parts: one | two (complete)

“Jungkook, if you’re not going to throw it then get your grabby hands off my waist,” you warn, eyeing him as he stands behind you and delays in one-manning you into an extension or ogling your ass in your skirt.

“You’re just so wobbly today, I’m waiting for you to chill out a bit,” he lies with a smirk. You smack his hand but exhale deeply as you firmly grasp his wrists and count.

“1, 2!” With mutual timing, Jungkook dips down with you before heaving your body above, squatting to catch your heels mid-air, and pumping back up into an extended position. He’s right, you wobble a bit, calling out, “Bail!” and feeling his hands disappear beneath to re-catch your thighs and bring you down safely on your toes. You curse silently under your breath but pat Jungkook’s shoulder as a symbolic “thank you”.

“It’s too fucking early for this, I’m tired,” you say, only making excuses for yourself.

“Well, liven up. The doors are going to open soon and no freshmen want to join a failure of a cheer team.”

“Hey, stop bickering,” the captain, Suzy, orders, “Y/N, you’re fine to just handle the flyers, I’ll stunt with Jungkook.” You squish her into an exhausted hug.

“This is why you’re captain,” you coo.

With that, some of the staff open the gym doors, welcoming an intimidatingly large group of people in with smiles. You fake one yourself, ready to get this over with as soon as possible so you can go back to your dorm and sleep. Within ten minutes, you had a group of girls and a handful of brawny guys already watching Suzy and Jungkook’s exhibition, a mixture of oohs and ahs being rewarded. You handed each of them a thin, poorly-made flyer with pixelated clipart of a girl doing a toe-touch before they scrambled.

After a while, most of the initial commotion dies down and you people-watch each clueless face, thinking how adorable they are, so young and so lost, as if it weren’t you only a few months ago. You’re only a sophomore, but in your head that gives you enough authority to judge the freshmen.

You snap out of your daze upon boots clicking in the distance, soon revealing a man seemingly darting through the crowds to exit across the other side. You would’ve ignored him if it wasn’t for his peachy-tinted hair, long and slicked back atop and close-shaven near his neck, his thin but fit stature dressed in all-black, and the glint of metal, that you soon realized was a septum piercing, in his nose. He has a dark sleeve consuming his right arm and you wonder what eighteen or nineteen year old has a fully-developed sleeve.

Although his eyes were covered with chunky black sunglasses (in the gym, at that), the rest of his appearance sent your pierced-and-tatted-hot-boy alarm berserk. Suddenly awake, you wait for him to head closer to your booth before hopping next to him.

“Hi there, freshie. Care to take a tryout flyer for this year’s cheer team?” you ask with a pitch that’s much higher than your own, kindly handing him one of the shitty-looking papers. He mutters something under his breath that you don’t catch but speaks before you can ask him to clarify.

“Not a freshman. Do I look like someone who cheers? I’m just looking for the counseling center to turn in my transfer papers.

“Also, can you, like, give me some personal space?” he continues in a mock valley-girl tone.

You jump back, completely caught off guard with his sudden hostility and attempting to regain your composure by clearing your throat. Someone must’ve shoved a stick up his ass this morning.

“Oh, uh, sorry. Once you leave the gym, you head right, pass two sets of restrooms, head left, and it’s behind the big statue where the foyer is.” Your voice sounds much better.

His eyebrows rocket upwards over his glasses, completely frazzled by the number of directions you gave him, “Shit, okay. That’s a lot.”

“Here, I’ll just walk you,” you say, not giving him any time for him to probably decline. You don’t even question if he’s following you or not, the obvious clunkclunkclunk of his boots giving it away.

Unsurprisingly, the man doesn’t try to talk to you on the way to the counseling center. At most, he walks side-by-side, at least three meters between you for good measure. And even though it’s pretty clear he doesn’t want to talk, you ring him out a little more anyway.

“So, you’re not a freshman. Underclassman or upperclassman? And you’re a transfer? From where?”

Pass two sets of restrooms and head left.

“Senior. From Busan.” He doesn’t even show a hint of feeling. Emotion. Does this guy even breathe?

Straight until the statue in the foyer.

“Great. Well, it was nice to meet you, senior from Busan. I’m Y/N. If you ever need help or anything, feel free to ask me,” you deadpan, swiveling on your feet to salute him.

He leans on one hip, taking a hand with an incredible amount of rings on it and pushing his sunglasses over his hair like a headband. You certainly weren’t expecting a reveal of the kindest puppy dog eyes you’ve ever seen in your entire life. He almost looks permanently sleepy—eyes drooping flat on the lid. Your trance distracted you from his brief once-over, unpredictably impressed by your looks, if he had to admit it.

“It’s Jimin. Jimin, senior from Busan. See you around, cheerleader,” he says with a sly tilt of his lips before swinging the door open and slithering into the office. Past all the glitter and bright colors that poured out of that hideous uniform of yours, Jimin found you really cute.

Jimin waits patiently for the front desk to call him up, lounging in one of the hard, black plastic chairs that never failed to give his ass cramps. Though he didn’t seem like it to new faces around the campus, he was ecstatic to be starting college again in a whole new atmosphere. He even got to room with another male originally from Korea, Min Yoongi, in a small condo not too far a walk from the area.

He could even prospect cuties like you during his year, undoubtedly positive he could busy himself judging by the attention he’s attracted so far. All it would take is a hungry stare, a lick of his lips, an all-knowing smirk. It was easier here than it was back home, if not child’s play. He could have you in three hours flat. But then he thinks of you choosing the obnoxious cliché of college cheerleader and cringes at the idea of associating himself with such… American-ness. He could at least go for some sort of indifferent, grunge hipster that might actually have some thought to her. Yeah, more his style.

The woman at the front finally calls for him, so he arranges his papers and shoos away any daydream of hooking up with the girl in a tight skirt and ankle socks.

Taking the long route back to the gym, your imagination sputters through all the possible reasons why you should hate that guy, bad-guy radar ringing and shrieking and threatening to punch you square in the eye if you even think about it. Eventually, it comes to the conclusion that he was just new, he was probably having a rough moving-in, and you shouldn’t judge a transfer by their hair. Book by its binding? You don’t really remember how the saying goes in this situation.

“Hey, good job on snaking yourself out of flyer duty. What, did you bang Asian Hot Topic on your way?” Jungkook snickers.

“And did Cait break up with you because you can’t dom for shit? Hand me my jacket.”

He guffaws, practically throwing the clothing at your face, “We didn’t break up, asswipe. How am I supposed to act when she suddenly calls me ‘daddy’ without previous warning? I’m not ready to be a father.”

“Kook, you’re dumb as shit. Maybe I should bang Asian Hot Topic and give you pointers of how a real dom works their magic.”

Jungkook crosses his arms in denial, “Pfft, you don’t even know him. He could be a receiver for all you know.”

One, two, three seconds. You both chortle at the impracticality.

You take one final look in the body mirror, adjusting the slinky grey dress and hanging an oversized burnt-orange corduroy jacket over your shoulders for that final touch of unnecessary, but fashionably-adept, garnish to your outfit cupcake. Not having enough time to do your hair, you sweep it over to one side and leave it as is.

“You look fine and you’re ten minutes late so get out already,” your roommate, Sara, whines. She practically pushes you out, slamming and locking the door for emphasis.

Waving off your discombobulated roommate, you start your trek to the humanities building (which is so far away) with a skip in your step. A new school year meant new people, new classes, more lunchtimes with subpar food and occasional parties that could potentially lead to you getting arrested. Who knows!

A new school year, however, didn’t mean that you would know your way to your new class apparently. Bummer.

It’s only by your fourth circle and a glance at your phone that you panic, fifteen minutes somehow passing in the midst of your scrambling. Pace quickening, you pull out your paper with sloppily written notes of what class room number was at which time, simultaneously half-jogging past classrooms and—

“Oof!”

You land straight on your ass.

“Ow, watch where you’re going stu—oh, it’s you.”

You look up groggily, pain stinging through your legs from the brunt of your fall and lazily making eye contact with a pair of puppy dog eyes. Jimin stands above you, rubbing his chin where, you suppose, your forehead made rough contact with and indiscreetly staring at your bright blue panties where your dress failed to cover.

Hopping up and dusting yourself off, you pick up your fallen bag and paper before glaring at him, “Sorry, I got lost and wasn’t paying attention.”

He scoffs, “Aren’t you the cheerleader? You’re supposed to be, like, the girl scout of the school, right? You shouldn’t be lost.”

You roll your eyes, “Yeah, well. I am,” you mutter to yourself, “I don’t even think there’s a 207 in this building…”

“Oh, 207? Intro to psych, right? That’s where I’m going too,” he admits, eyes blown wide. Welp, certainly not the highlight of your morning.

“Great. By the looks of the current time, we’re both lost and,” you wave around the empty corridor, “there’s no one who’s going to help us.”

“I’m not lost. I just woke up late,” he answers nonchalantly, a warm glow to his face like he couldn’t give two damns about his class.

“W-What? Then let’s go! Where is it?”

Jimin twirls and walks a different direction, mumbling, “I’m not your escort, rich girl.”

You prattle at his comment but follow him anyway. When you find the correct lecture hall, you groan at the fact that you already passed it several times. He opens the door quietly, not even bothering to hold it for you as you scramble to catch it. A couple of the back rows look back at you two, annoyed by the minor inconvenience.

“Well. Welcome to my 10AM psychology class at,” the professor booms through the hall and peeks at his wristwatch, “10:36. Go ahead and take these two free seats.”

Jimin shrugs and walks towards the front of the room, a quiet and embarrassed you tiptoeing behind him. Being this late and having to sit next to this ass wasn’t how you wanted your first day to go at all.

For the remainder of the 24 minutes until the first break, you skim over the contents that you missed in the syllabus and want to ram your head into the closest wall. Participation and attendance by themselves are 30% of your grade, homework and assignments (thank god) being a measly 20%, and the final plus tests and quizzes a hunking remainder of 50%. What even was this system?

During your ten minute break, you silently scroll through your phone notifications, setting it down irritatingly when the hall refused to grant you enough service to respond to any of them.

“Don’t have LTE, princess? Might as well watch paint dry without your phone to entertain you,” Jimin snickers beside you. You scowl menacingly at him and he giggles more.

“I don’t know what your problem is, but back off, Jimin. Sorry I don’t, like, play the electric guitar in my free time or whatever.”

He doesn’t respond immediately, still smiling and blowing bubbles with his gum, popping them quite obnoxiously, and quite intentionally.

“What, do you think I play the electric guitar? Are you stereotyping me as some sort of garage band drop-out punk?” he jesters.

“And do you take me for some sort of pink fuzzy consumerist? You don’t know me. Buzz off.”

Jimin had definitely tucked you into his mental folder of “tough gals”; his aloof tactic of flirting not seeming to penetrate that pretty skull of yours. He could just take the path of least resistance and approach you normally, but where was the fun in that? You were too interesting a specimen to just use-and-discard.

Jimin suddenly thinks you look attractive with furrowed brows and pouted lips. It was most definitely working for you, so he lets it slide for now. When class ends, you all but bolt before Jimin can even look your way, sure he’d find another surface flaw to pick at.

You suddenly think of what all of the adults in your life have said during your upbringing: people that went out of their way to bully you were either jealous or had an embarrassingly crushing “thing” for you. Jimin, on the other hand, was just annoying.

Of course, to your dismay, class isn’t the only time you ever saw him. You weren’t totally stupid. The campus didn’t stretch for miles and you were bound to see him sometime and have to deal with the efforts of avoiding the man at all costs but fuck were you praying to whoever controls your Sim above that they would grant you some mercy.

“Just tell him to fuck off if he’s so far up your ass,” Jungkook argues, crushing his juice box in one gulp and biting his massive cafeteria burrito.

“You don’t get it, Kook. I have. So many times, in so many different instances. Did I tell you about the time I thought he was helping me get a textbook from a tall shelf but he ended up taking that last one for himself?” You angrily rip a bite from your limp sandwich. You really did hate Turkey Thursdays.

“Eh, first come, first serve. Maybe he didn’t know you were trying to grab that one.”

“My ass, Jungkook. He claimed that if I really wanted it, I would ‘do something in fair exchange’ for it. I’m not looking to going into prostitution anytime soon.”

“Respect sex workers,” Jungkook criticizes.

“Oh, no, totally. Sex work just isn’t my forte.” Kook shrugs.

“Okay,” you continue, “how about the time I went to IKEA to buy that ceiling lamp and was obviously struggling to one-trip everything from my car? The dumbfuck passed by and asked if I needed help, so I was like, ‘Yeah! Sure, it would definitely make up for the time you asked for sex in lieu of my psych book,’ but instead of helping me carry anything he took my coffee, drank some, and left.” Jungkook starts a rebuttal but you cut him off short, “Then he showed up to my work the other day, god knows how he even saw me in there, and started taking a video of me when I wasn’t paying attention!”

“What the hell,” your friend sports a face of disgust, “like, he’s stalking you?”

You scratch the back of your neck, “Well, not exactly? I think he was just maybe—see, A$AP Rocky may or may have not been playing on the speakers, and I didn’t know anyone was in the shop! So. I don’t know. I started—”

“Started rapping with a rolled up poster as your microphone,” he deadpans. Finishing your horrid sandwich, you crumple the saran wrap and chuck it at his eye, satisfied when we wails exaggeratingly.

“Maybe that’s just his way of flirting with you, he’ll get bored eventually.”

“I think he just hates my guts and thinks of me as an equal to the gum under his thick, goth boots,” you mumble.

“Does it matter? So what if Danny Phantom doesn’t like you?”

“He’s causing a problem though. Besides, everyone cares if someone doesn’t like them. It’s bullshit if they tell you otherwise; bullshit or a lack of sympathy.”

“So what are you going to do about it? Because I’m totally your friend and all but I don’t necessarily want to hear about your boy problems all the time.” You harrumph at his negligence and slump back into your seat.

There really wasn’t anything you could do about it; it wasn’t bad enough to the point of distressing tyranny. You simply couldn’t befriend the guy, it was obvious he didn’t want that. You would just have to pray to all things good that he would eventually lose interest, stop harassing you out of kindness, or have a change of heart and treat you like the saint you were.

If only it were that easy.

Sylly-week kicked ass, to say the least. Even two days prior the hectic week from hell, your body aches from partying while your wallet cries from all the textbooks and supplies you paid for.

Sara slept beside you, forehead stuck to the desk with her laptop stuck on some sort of half-assed document and you couldn’t fathom a better picture to represent college.

Although it was already around 11, you hop out of bed and throw on your windbreaker from cheer and some spandex, shuffling into a pair of your sneakers and bolting out of your room with your bag. The amount of sodium and sugar you consumed from Cup-O-Noodles and off-brand cookie dough bites made you feel disgusting, and you know running a quick mile at the gym would get your blood pumping enough to make you: 1) feel better about yourself and 2) put your ass to sleep.

The walk is short, the air still a little heavy with heat but cool enough for you to be comfortable in a long-sleeve. Some tired students exit the library, really the only other people you see at this hour. You would’ve thought it creepy if the campus wasn’t so well-lit and played background music through the announcement speakers. If you died or got kidnapped, at least it was to some groovy jazz.

You swipe your card across the sensor beside the athletic building door, waiting for that subtle beep before the gears clank and allow you to heave the door open. Immediately, the smell of sweat poorly masked with air freshener fill your nostrils and your adrenaline builds. You’re no body builder, but a run certainly sounded nice right about now.

You practically skip through the halls, rounding a corner to enter the weight room before you stop in your tracks to see someone in the room across. You squint suspiciously, peachy hair striking a very strong familiarity to…

“Jimin?” you whisper to yourself. You shouldn’t be surprised that he’s at the gym, but you are because he isn’t. He’s in the dance studio. Before you bolt, your eyes glue to his sensual movements, legs gliding across the floor and body free-flowing alongside the bass-filled music. No previous bias could deny that he looks like an angel in his room, dancing smooth as meringue and practically skating across the floor despite those clunky black boots of his; and powerful, hitting every note and beat with intention and vigor. You’ve never seen anyone dance like this.

After a few seconds, you render that you’re spying on him and continue walking, nervously scuffing your sneakers down the linoleum and immediately, and unfortunately, catching his attention.

He first sees you in the mirror. Ignores you. Then realizes it’s you and turns into the most ungraceful bag-of-bones as he scurries to pause the music and chases you down the hall.

“Hey!” he yells, grabbing your elbow.

“Don’t touch me,” you strike back, jerking your elbow out of his grasp and staring him down.

He looks apologetic, genuinely worried for a second before he breathes deep and tries again, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to grab you like that. Um, why are you here?”

“Um, because I can be? I was going to go to the gym, dickwad.”

It takes all of his patience not to insult you, “Okay. You’re right. Were you… were you watching me?”

You give him a sickeningly-sweet smile, “Don’t flatter yourself. I was just passing by.”

He nods solemnly, straightening his tank as if it wasn’t already wrinkled and damp with sweat, “Okay. Okay, cool.” He starts to turn before he keeps going in a 360.

“Can you keep this between me and you? That I was here? That I was here and I was—”

“Dancing?” you ask quizzically, “Why does it matter?”

His eyebrows stitch together in frustration, “Y/N, do I look like I’m a dancer?” He gestures to his piercings and his sleeve, waving his hands about in so many different places that your lewd curiosity wonders what he looks like naked—for the sake of knowing how many piercings and tattoos he has though, obviously.

“I think you look like a dancer. Just not a contemporary dancer. Did you take ballet?” you half-tease, crossing your arms and beaming slyly at him.

Jimin huffs, impatient, “Will you just keep it locked somewhere in that airhead of yours?”

“What’s in it for me, Jiminie,” you pout, “what do I get as reward for keeping your secret?”

He falters a moment, licking his plump lips and walking dangerously close, “You want a reward? I don’t take you as that kind of girl, Y/N.”

He must be delirious, eyeing him so and shoving him away, “Ew, no. I just meant, like, be nice to me from now on. And help me with psychology. That class is nothing but a memory test.”

He blinks dumbly from your rejection; who ever rejected him? He waves it off.

“Okay. I can be compliant. I won’t treat you like the rich bitch you are, and I tutor you on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Deal?”

“I’m not a rich bitch. I have student loans like the rest of the student population, thank you very much. Deal.”

You smile at each other devilishly, ready to part ways before bursting out with an instant, “Wait!”

Jimin looks over his shoulder curiously. Damn, you could really see how toned his shoulders were in that shirt.

“There’re dance majors here, is that what you transferred for?”

He turns all the way, leaning sideways against the wall and sighing, “Honestly, yes. But my family thinks I’m transferring to finish my business degree and that I would have better opportunities here. I really did it because there’s some great studios in the area but—” he catches himself rambling, “I don’t know how they would feel about my grand decision.”

You shrug, “You’re a great dancer, Jimin. Honestly, you could open your own studio here if you wanted to. You do have great opportunities.”

His sleepy eyes stare you down, a half-smile drawing itself out before he can take it back. “Give me your phone,” he orders.

You don’t know why but you do.

He dials into it with his overly-accessorized fingers, giving you a moment to get a closer look at his septum and the abundance of ear-piercings he sports before he hands it back. You’re pretty sure one of them is Gucci and you bite back a chuckle. Rich bitch.

“That’s my number. Text me when you’re free on study days.”

And with that, he re-enters his room and resumes the music.

The first time Park Jimin meets with you at a Starbucks on a Tuesday, like he instructed, you thought you somehow managed to get yourself stuck in the Twilight Zone.

“Hey, it’s Y/N. My last class ends at 3 on both days and there’s already a quiz this Friday. Help.”

You sent the text without emojis. He didn’t deserve any.

You had barely got to Instagram before he texted you back. With multiple messages.

“u text like a gramma”

“but ok”

“starbucks at 330? i’ll buy”

You giggled to yourself at his joke, sending a single “(:” and putting your phone to sleep.

To your disbelief, he really did buy you a cheese danish and a tall, iced, caramel macchiato. You sip it gingerly while he pulls his things out of his bag: a couple mechanical pencils (the industrial, expensive ones), a 1-inch binder organized by subject with dividers, and notecards. You grab them and hold them up like it’s evidence from a leading murder case.

“Notecards? You are way too organized and functional.”

He snags your pastry before you can grab it and takes a huge bite, “Yeah, but ih’s gonna het you a bedder ghrade.”

Whining, you get it back after his second bite, somehow only half remaining.

“Okay. Let’s get started. It should only be a vocab check because that’s really all he’s asked us to study so far. We’ll start with my wonderful notecards,” he waves them in the air for effect, “and see which ones you do and don’t know.”

You nod, waiting for the chaos to begin. Who were you to tell him that you haven’t actually studied any of the vocab yet? He holds the first one up. Abductive reasoning.

“Uhh… is that like, something detectives use on kidnapping cases?”

“Wh-What? No. Well—are you thinking of ‘abductions’? Abductive reasoning is being able to use the two states of induction and deduction alongside your intuition to reach a conclusion,” he pauses and tilts his head a little, “ I guess the best analogy is giving out a verdict on a criminal case. Without being 100% sure, they use the evidence to tie together as many different points as they can to come to a conclusion. So, I mean, you got it wrong, but you can easily remember the definition with that.”

You’ll take what you get (majority of his reasoning went through one ear and out the other, anyway), wiggling your eyebrows in justified approval. Jimin laughs at you, eyes squinting to slits and shaking his head. He takes notice that you aren’t wearing much makeup today, your cheeks and the bridge of your nose a tad red with irritation and a bit dry where the sun burnt and eyes daintier without so much eyeliner on them. You threw on a tank and some workout shorts and look like the epitome of… comfortable, in your head. Jimin thinks you look effortless.

“Park?” you wave your hand in front of him.

He catches himself staring and jumps out of his seat, chair screeching across the tile.

“Sorry,” he coughs, “I’m going to take a whiz.” Stupid. He practically trips over himself to get to the restroom.

You watch him hurry to the back. He probably had much better things to do than help you study in the middle of the afternoon. A couple of younger girls watch him as he passes, giggling like a pack of fangirls and combing their hair out of their faces. If they only knew.

Did he even have a girlfriend? Most likely not, right? He only just transferred here and despite his well-endowed looks, he was still intimidating. Like a giant “don’t touch, I bite” sign constantly hung around his neck.

He comes back shortly, and before you can deduct that you would rather save the embarrassment than to quench your curiosity, you ask, “Are you dating anyone?”

“Because you get a lot of followers,” you reason, shamelessly pointing out the girls who ogle his tattooed biceps. They giggle again when he looks their way. God, so many giggles.

He rubs the back of his neck nervously and that intrigues you, “No, I’m not dating anyone. I think if it weren’t for my… accessories? And the fact that I’m foreign, girls wouldn’t like me as much.” You find tiny comfort that he’s single but squish the thought away.

“How ‘bout you? Dating that guy on your team?” he retorts.

“Who, Jungkook?” you snort, “No. He has a girlfriend and he’s all brawn over brain. I’m not dating anyone, actually. I don’t like guys that are so competitive to win females strictly for the points, and there’s a lot of that here. S’gross; we’re not animals.”

“We kinda are,” he argues, but smiles understandingly.

“Okay, but not in the way where your possible significant other has to perform an instinctual mating dance?”

He juts up an eyebrow, “Really? Because I could easily arrange that.”

For the first time, you both laugh. At the same thing. Who knew that Jimin could dance of all things? And pay for your food? And actually be a nice guy who’s really smart? Thinking about it, today has gone so polar-opposite of what you expected that you contemplate if this is Jimin’s identical twin that just happens to have the same piercings and ink that bully-Jimin has.

Twilight Zone.

“Okay, let’s continue,” he says, resuming the queue of notecards.

“Define abulia.”

“Hello? Earth to Y/N?” Jimin waved a hand in your face.

“Hm? Sorry, say it again.”

Jimin packed up his supplies, then grabs yours and tucks them into your bag, “I said, ‘Are we going to your place right now?’ You said you picked up Black Panther on DVD so I want to watch it.”

“Oh, yeah, sure. Cats and shit.”

You both stand up and stretch, the rest of the students in the lecture hall slowly filing out. Midterms were already approaching, which meant that you and Jimin had known each other for quite some time now. His tutoring was ditched weeks ago after you were finally comfortable with the material and able to comprehend what the professor was saying without Jimin to interpret. At first, meeting up stopped completely. You two would talk occasionally during class break and that’s all, and after a while, you just figured your deal was completed and Jimin finished his case and you both separated onto your different ways.

But then Jimin had asked if you wanted coffee at the same Starbucks you had first studied at, but for no specific reason. Just to hang out. So, you did.

Hanging out once or twice for coffee turned into twice getting lunch turned into four or five times lazing about your dorm, and now, you were just completely, wholesomely, friends. It was hard not to be on edge at the contrast of current Jimin to hell-on-earth Jimin, but you took what you could get.

“Is something on your mind? You’ve been spacing out for a long time,” he prods, taking your bag himself and throwing it over the same shoulder his own bag was on. The

walk to your dorm building was short but you could feel your feet dragging from sudden exhaustion.

“I think I’m just tired? I’m fine. Ready to Black Panther it up and all that jazz,” you chuckle. He takes the hint and resorts to quietly humming to your room rather than talking. That’s one thing you liked about him, he always knew when your mind just needed simple white noise.

Unlocking the door and jostling it out of its stickiness, you make a running jump to faceplant onto your bed. The mattress dips next to you when Jimin sits.

“I know you like cheer and all, but I think you need to take a break,” he says.

“Easier said than done. And I have mandatory captain conditioning in 3 hours,” you groan, propping your head on the palm of your hand to watch Jimin as he eats a stale bag of chips that he found on your nightstand. His face contorts in repulsion and throws the bag away.

“Okay, well, you’re not going. Tell them you’re sick. Let’s watch some DC movies and eat popcorn and have, like, a girl sleepover but I’m not a girl and I don’t want to spend the night,” he says, counting each point on his fingers.

“First of all, you lunatic, it’s Marvel not DC. Second, I don’t have popcorn. I can’t just skip conditioning because if I gain one pound Jungkook will sense it with his nose or something and attack me.”

“What,” he says in disbelief, grabbing your waist with one hand and squeezing a little, “you’re fine. You’re not going today and that’s final.” It’s not very often he touches you and as much as you try not to show it, you feel your face heat and mouth gape open and closed, ready to combust. You don’t particularly know why; guys touch you all the time (not in that way, thank you very much) but when it was Jimin, it was like you had been raised feral and failed to receive any means of human interaction.

He notices, taking his hand away as quick as he placed it and looking at the floor. Despite your lack of proper reaction, you would be lying if you said you didn’t feel a little twinge of disappointment. God, you’re so confusing to yourself.

“How about you? Your vampire ass won’t dance in sunlight so you must be tired too. How long do you normally dance for when you’re in the studio?”

“Well,” he lays flat on his back and stares at your popcorn ceiling (your dorm building was extremely outdated), “I try to workout at the actual gym in the morning before I get ready for class, and then I dance from 11 to whenever I feel is enough during the weeknights. That is, if no one’s there.”

“Why do you even follow this whole path of disliking mainstream trends and ‘rebelling against the world’? Isn’t that tiring? Aside from dance, do you, like, make your own skateboards and go to secret underground bars or something?” you tease. He rolls his head towards you in annoyance and mouths a “ha ha”.

“No, I just. I don’t know. I don’t like people telling me what to do or where to go or how to look,” he showcases his tatted arm. “This is all mine. I don’t want to be another puppet controlled my whole life to consume and work off a never-ending debt just so I can only live comfortably when I’m old but too old to actually live.”

“Wow, bro. That’s deep,” you pretend to smoke a pretzel stick. He continues anyway.

“Recently I made some friends that are in one of my labs. They’re from Korea too. If I’m not studying or working or hanging out with you, I’m probably with them. Partying or something,” he says, stealing away your “cigarette” and crunching on it loudly.

“Woah, you work? How do you find the time to do that?”

“Kinda. Nothing official, I just tutor people sometimes. Charge them by the hour and make some decent pocket change for food or whatever.”

You contemplate. How come he’s never charged you for your tutoring before? You ask him, studying his side profile and admiring his jawline when he talks. Flexing then easing; taut then relaxed.

“Because we had a deal. We agreed that I would help you in psych as long as you kept my secret, in which you did, so I figured that was good enough. Besides, you’re too cute to charge. I look like a bad boy but I’m not evil.” You giggle, resembling a middle-school fangirl and exaggerating a flattered stature.

Jimin laughs again, light and refreshing staccato notes that you could honestly listen to all day. It was therapeutic in its own crackhead way.

You’ve been unintentionally staring at him more and more often, Jimin finally taking notice within the last few minutes. He knew how to read a girl; how revealing they make themselves to impress him or how their eyes dim in any sort of suggestion that his hands should somehow find place on their body. But with you, he has no idea what that stare means. For the most part, you carry yourself so independently to the point of being standoffish and Jimin just can’t figure you out. He sought the day you would give in and beg for a night with him just like most of the other girls in his classes did, and when you didn’t, he wanted to know why. Not out of inflated ego or need to get into your pants—okay maybe because of that initially—but even more so that he just needed to dissect you. Know how to get you going, what kind of person you really are, which was completely different from what he originally imagined.

You were talking amidst his thoughts, not paying attention to the strings of sentences that fell out of your lips and before he knew it, he held himself directly above you, hands on each side of your head and staring right down into your disordered doe eyes.

“What makes you so different?” he asks aloud, more to himself than you. Puzzled and not under the impression that it was a rhetorical question, you shake your head.

“I don’t u-understand. What are you doing, Ji—”

He tucks a loose strand of yours out of your face, causing you to hiccup. “I feel like when I think I know you, I’m actually far from it.”

You don’t particularly know what you’re supposed to say to that.

“You didn’t ever need to get to know me. You just needed to make sure I kept your secret,” you play along. Knowing it wasn’t really the whole case, your own statement stings a little. If it weren’t to save his own ass, would he even be here right now?

Like he read your mind, he answers, “Why would I be here? I haven’t needed to help you in weeks. I’m with you all the time because I want to be. Because I—”

“Because you…?” you trail on, heart beating so hard you swear he can hear it. You wanted him to say it, maybe that’s what was keeping you from confirming your feelings. You needed validation; that this wasn’t just you or that this was some one-sided longing because you doubted someone like him could ever like someone like you.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks instead, so hesitant and delicate and worrisome all in one question and you ponder if this is the same boy you first met at orientation.

“Please.”

He dips down slowly, eyes half-closed in anticipation of what your face looks like so close, pausing an inch away when you shut your own. You feel his warmth near your mouth, waiting for that first touch, any contact, until it seems like it’s been far too long. When you peek, you see nothing but his perfect… cheekbone? He stares, jaw stuck open and eyes fluttering, at the intruder in the door before swinging himself off the bed and coughing awkwardly.

“Oh, Sara. I didn’t know you were coming home so early today,” you squeak out. You sit up yourself, brushing off nonexistent dust from the bed and watching Jimin gather his things in a rush and squeezing past a concerned Sara in the doorway. He doesn’t even turn back, ears stinging red and peeping a quick, havetogotextyoulater. Great, the asshole left you to face your roommate alone.

“Was that Jimin? Park Jimin? The fucking transfer student?”

“Oh my god, Sara, what’re you freaking out about?”

Dropping her stuff in the middle of the room, she shrieks annoyingly and grabs your shoulders, “Are you seriously fucking with the Park Jimin? Y/N. Nuh-uh. No way. Do you know what you’re getting yourself into?”

“Chill out! We’re just friends. He tutors me sometimes.” Not quite a lie.

She eyes you and deadpans, “Yeah, I didn’t know tutoring also included a one-on-one session of how to have sexual intercourse.”

“You’re so dramatic,” you remove her hands, which were digging crescents into your skin, and pretend to arrange your bed, “we haven’t even kissed. You just walked in at an inconvenient time.”

Sara sighs, rubbing her temples and sitting on your bed, “Look, babe. Just be careful. I’ve been to parties with him and have heard some awful things. Shit you expect from a movie where the girl gets fucked over because the guy doesn’t know how to keep his dick in his pants. I just want the best for you, okay? He’s not as sweet as you might think he is.”

He isn’t sweet at all, you said internally. But still, your heart clenches at her words. Sure, he acts like a dick, and you shouldn’t be surprised if he really does get around as much as Sara suspects; but there was just some sort of denial that lingered. If he really was such a player, why would he have stuck around with you for as long as he has, as platonic as it has been until now?

“I… I didn’t know that. I’ll be careful,” you assure her.

All it took was a squinty-eyed smile and a tiny caress to the small of your back on the way into the lecture hall for you to completely melt into his hands. You were simply putty, magically molding into some gross, odd-smelling ball of love just because of the almost-incident yesterday. You can practically feel the radiating disappointment from Sara if she knew how easily you gave yourself up for him.

His face reoccurs in your daydreams for days, all the way up until the weekend comes up from behind and smacks you on the ass.

“Focus,” Jungkook taps you through you skirt again. Oh, or maybe it was Jungkook.

The stadium speakers blared with announcements and you’re brought back to the world of clashing helmets, captain’s orders and Jungkook’s strong hands residing on your waist for partner stunts.

You didn’t need to be reminded, you were much more stable than you were weeks ago. He throws you in the air during the signaling note of the band and catches your right foot with ease above him, keeping you stable as you pull a heel stretch and present a pretty smile. The crowd roars along, inspiring the team and singing along with the cheers.

By the end of the game, you’re exhausted, tearing down paper signs from the concrete walls and shuffling your poms into your bag in a hurry.

“Hey, are you going to the feed after? Everyone’s going, I could give you a ride,” Jungkook offers, but you shake your head.

“I’m pretty beat. I’ll go next time.” He shrugs, finding more interest in catching up to someone who is interested than trying to convince you otherwise. By the time your clean-up is done, most of the fans are gone, the stadium a comparable difference of quiet than how it was only twenty minutes ago.

“You’re sure taking forever,” a sudden voice pipes up. Outside the gate stands Jimin, all-black tank and jeans, per usual. “You looked great out there.”

You smile, suddenly awake and jogging towards him, “What’re you doing here? I thought you didn’t like football.” During all your rushing do you realize that you relax around Park, time always seeming to slow down in his presence and you dissolve into his effect.

“I don’t. Such an American moneymaker. They’re all cons.” He takes your bag like he always does, leaning against the gate and looking excited, “Mind if we stop by my place? I have something to show you. It’s not far, probably only a 5 minute walk from here.”

You nod before he even mentions how long it takes to get there, heart palpitating at the thought that he’s inviting you over. You’re sure you smelled from cheer and you probably looked like the opposing team warmed up suicide runs over your sweaty body, but you nod.

“Were you here the whole time? Or just towards the end?” you ask, slightly insecure towards the fact that he could’ve been watching you cheer.

“Was here since halftime. Got Yoongs to watch with me at the gate where I was before for the most part. He left halfway through fourth quarter though, said he got tired from seeing others exert themselves so much,” he chuckles at the thought, eyes squinting and crooked tooth visible from the side. Your heart swooned, you were even starting to notice the little things. How he acted. His habits. What he did and didn’t like.

You were in fucking deep.

“I did get to see you cheer though,” he answers your unspoken inquiry, “you looked pretty, Y/N. It’s like watching a whole ‘nother person compared to how you act outside of uniform.” You’re still stuck on the word “pretty” and nod along like you’re listening.

“You should see how people look at you,” he draws on, “like they’re entranced. Even when you were just relaxing on the sideline, not doing anything, you stand out.”

“Oh my god, Jimin, where is this even coming from? One more compliment and the world might explode from the paradox you’re creating.”

He shoves your shoulder lightly, laughing at your tomato-red face, “What do you mean? I can’t compliment you?”

“No that’s not—I just mean. You know. You used to hate me and now you shower me with praise like I’m the best person in the world. It’s just crazy how much our relationship has changed. And… And yesterday—”

“Yo, can’t believe you really stayed for the rest of the game,” a raspy voice outbursts. You just realize that Jimin stopped you in front of a house, presumably his house, as a mint-haired ball sits on the porch. He inhales from his cigarette and exhales through his nose before throwing it underneath his boot.

“Hey, Yoongs. This is Y/N. Y/N, Min Yoongi, my roommate. Has a bad smoking habit and have only recently gotten him to smoke outside.” Jimin snickers, offering a hand to lift Yoongi off the step and welcome him into some bro-hug.

“You smoke too, bastard. Just did it ‘cause I knew you were bringing someone home tonight,” Yoongi retaliates, eyeing your figure. Shivers run down your spine at the comment.

Jimin coughs unexpectedly, then anxiously laughs as he pulls your arm behind him and into the house, “We’ll be in the living room. Go sleep or something.” Yoongi only clicks his tongue in response.

“Sorry,” he says once your inside, “he can be a little too personal sometimes. He’s really nice once you get to know him.” You shake your head, giving him a comforting smile that eases the tension in his shoulders.

He settles you on the couch, host-like politeness apparent when he asks if you want anything to drink, tells you where the bathroom is, and hands you the tv remote before disappearing to find his laptop. His home was cozy, minimalist furniture often in gray, black, and an occasional blue spread throughout the rooms. You weren’t sure if the boys were attempting to be modern or if college tuition only allowed them this sort of set-up, but nonetheless, it was way nicer than you expected.

“Back,” Jimin plops onto the couch right next to you, Apple laptop unlocked to a default background. He looks to you briefly before setting up some page on Google, “Have you signed up for your classes for next quarter yet?”

He looks different, your eyes scanning over his face to figure out just what it is, “Basically, just gotta confirm and pay and whatnot. Have you, Jimin?”

It’s his septum, you discover, that he’s taken out. He looks handsome either way. Propping the laptop suddenly on your lap, he beams, “Yeah, go ahead and take a look.”

You scroll through the page, humming to yourself, “Mhm… Mhm… Accounting, business 101, contemporary repertory… God, you’re going to hate sociology with Doyard, she’s a complete psycho!” You trail, giggling at his misfortune. Once you’re done, you meet his discontent face.

It takes a few takes from his face to the screen, back to his face, until oh shit!

“Wait does ‘contemporary repertory’ mean something important?” you squeal in rushed excitement. “Is that a dance thing? Are you taking a dance class here?” Before he can even explain, you shut the laptop and safely place it on the coffee table before tackling the man, withdrawing an oof from his lips.

“Easy, girl. Please don’t break me before I even get to show up on the first day.”

“Jimin, this is amazing. You’re finally doing something you want to do, during regular hours, at that!” You nuzzle into his warm chest, “I’m so happy for you, Jimin. I hope you have fun.” His heart clenches at that; how could you be so fucking caring about him? He knew you’d be surprised, but not genuinely happy for him. His hand glides over the skin between your midriff and skirt, an inkling of a gasp floating out of your throat.

“Sorry,” he whispers, moving his hand higher and locking eyes with yours. Time is always slow with him but now, it’s like it was screaming at you to take the opportunity. Unwinding one of your arms from around his neck, you smooth his hair up so you can see those prepossessing eyes.

“You can touch me,” you confirm just as softly. His features harden and you hope you didn’t read the situation wrong.

“I… I never got to kiss you that night.”

“Then you can kiss me now, if you’d like,” you say, pleading in your voice and it’s all he needs to hear before he burns his lips into yours. “I can’t tell you how much I’ve wanted this,” he pants between suckles to your bottom lip. He kisses like he dances: powerful and in perfect control with his body, molding it to yours and massaging the skin he just apologized for touching only seconds ago.

You cup his face and look down at him with sultry prowess, “I want you, Jimin. I’ve always thought about this, hoping you would just make a move, idiot.” You dive back into him, his moans prominent when you lick and nip at his lip. He lowers his grip to your ass, squeezing and pushing his hips into your own.

“Well, I’ve always thought about fucking you in this cursed uniform,” he growls, forcing a giggle out of you. Grinding down into him for effect, your mouth travels to his ear so you can state a small confirmation.

“I’m flexible, babe. I’m all yours.”

He hums his praise, latching his mouth onto your neck, laving and peppering blues into your skin before he carries you off the couch. You wrap your legs around him instinctively, “Where are you taking me?”

Heading into a hallway and taking a sharp left, he kicks his door open, “I don’t know about you, hot stuff, but Yoongs doesn’t need to see you getting dicked down in our living room,” he jests. When he lays you back onto the foot of his bed, you briefly scan his room and find it hard to believe that it’s relatively clean, the posters on his walls the only thing that seemed cluttered. This guy was your high school self’s wet dream. Scanning him promiscuously, you chuckle.

“I can be into it,” you drawl playfully.

Earning an unimpressed scoff, he fingers the hem of his shirt, “You’re mine,” he sheds it in a swift pull and throws it to the side cockily. Marveling at each detailed divot and curve of muscle, you can’t help but bite your lip in frustrated anticipation. “Unless, you don’t want me,” he finishes with a tilt of his head. He knew what he was doing, simulating innocence to draw you out of your transfixed stupor to hear those three words string from your mouth. You reach out to touch his abs, tracing over linework of ink and watching him shiver from your touch. Knowing exactly what he wants to hear, you gaze into oblique eyes and mouth the words, “I do want you”.

Goading him on, you lay back and extend your legs above you, shuffling your spandex tantalizingly slow over your skin. Jimin whistles at your show, staring at the white g-string you sported under your skirt and wandering his hands over the supple skin you expose.

“Jesus, you fucking tease. Leave the skirt.” Tittering at his request, you dig your heels into his back to propel him down towards you, his ringed hands keeping himself afloat and a winning smile winking down at you. Bless your heart you didn’t faint right then and there.

He kisses you like a man starved, lips burning hot with desire and aching to be bit—so you give him that. Sinking your teeth gently into the flesh, he punishes such action with a slap to the underneath of your thigh, then holding it close to the side of his abdomen and rolling over with you on top. Practically suffocating from lack of air, you dislodge yourself, quite reluctantly, from his mouth and soothe his complaints with brief kisses to his thick neck.

“Why didn’t we do this—ah, before?” he pants. Sucking a particularly tender spot of his jugular, he moans out and bucks into your hips. You continue your way down, leaving no inch of skin untouched until you reach where his skin ends and the nuisance of clothing began.

“You don’t make things very easy for me. Can I suck you off?”

“Fuck, don’t ask. Just do it. Turn around, though, I’ll finger you at the same time,” he offers, propping himself up on his elbows as you readjust yourself with your head towards his bulge and your ass facing him, knees keeping you up on one side of his torso. “Perfect,” he commends.

Unbuckling his ridiculously tight jeans, you hook your thumbs under the denim and whisper a quick, “Up,” to pull them off when his hips lift off the mattress. Your pride inflates at the sight of his bulge resting in the crook of his thigh, adorned by simple black boxers that hugged him in all the right spots. All but drooling at the member, you place a loving kiss where you know his head resides, mouthing at it gingerly and soaking the material with your saliva.

He ruts into your face as he watches such indecency, “You know, I should probably tell you something,” he says rather seriously, shuffling your skirt up above your ass and mischievously prodding at your sex with his thumb.

“Hmm,” you mumble, sliding his boxers down enough to suck at the pink tip that oozed of precum and spreading the liquid around with your tongue. The bitterness that came with it was all welcomed, slightly sweeter than others you’ve ever tasted and you appreciated it much more when a man this good-looking was laid out before you.

He groans, “Ever heard of a Jacob’s Ladder? Fuck, right there, underneath a bit…” You suck and nip at the skin of his frenulum, knowing he was bound to like small dosages of pain mixed with his pleasure—a guess all too correct when he cries out in ecstasy and gives your ass a light spank.

“A Jacob’s what?”

“Just—just look at it. If you don’t like it then I can just take them out,” he sighs, all too impatient to give you a rundown of whatever a Jacob’s hoo-ha entailed. You perk a brow at his vocabulary, halting your mouth and sliding his boxers the rest of the way down.

If you weren’t riled up before, you were hot, ready, and willing to beg on your knees to be stuffed with Jimin and his… accessories. You understand the term “ladder” now, three rungs of metal pierced on the underside of his shaft and glinting up at you with intimidation. You hope Jimin can’t see the now overflowing amount of arousal oozing out of your pussy, squeezing thighs together in a useless attempt of hiding yourself.

“Fuck, didn’t that hurt?” you question, hovering fingers over the balls of silver that protruded on each side in complete awe.

“Of course it did, honey. It’s all worth it, though. It’ll make you feel good too. Need me to take them out?” You shake your head a little too vigorously, earning a chuckle and his middle finger to slide in between your folds unexpectedly. Yiping at the sudden entrance, you cast a glare over his shoulder with his only response being the curve of his digit.

“C-Can I lick it? Can it get infected if you don’t use a condom?” you bombard him with questions, entirely unfamiliar with the subject and entirely enamored by it.

“It’s all healed up, baby. You can do whatever your little heart desires with it. And I would oh so much prefer going bare,” he confirms, and your heart flips at his pet name for you. That, and the thought of his thick, pierced cock penetrating you condom-less.

You wrap your lips around him once more, unafraid to take more and more of his length until you feel the cold metal—your stopping point. Call it your lack of experience, but you prefer not to catch your teeth on those piercings today. You make up for it by sliding a hand back under his scrunched boxers, fondling his balls as you bob diligently. He curses and struggles to keep his body still, digging another digit between your legs to slow your own ministrations. When it works and you moan around his cock, Jimin can’t help but want to play a little game.

“Should I give you a challenge, babe? It’s super simple. Whoever makes the other cum first gets to request something. Anything. Deal?”

“Deahl,” you muffle, swirling your tongue lavishly around his crown. Everything with Jimin was much more… intriguing. Even your first time having sex was turned into some lusty escapade of unexpected metallic embellishments and cheeky gambles. It made you feel something in your veins, wanting more and more of whatever poison Jimin was.

Taking a breath, you lick broadly over his entire shaft and scarcely taste the titanium—more than anything, it was just cold. Jimin shudders at the feeling, punishing you with a third and final finger and pushing downdowndown into a spot all too sensitive for you to focus.

Try as you might, your now pathetic attempts of sucking him off is all forgotten in your own haze of chasing your orgasm. Instead, you rest your head on his hip and writhe against his hand, fucking back onto it while he simultaneously prods your g-spot over and over again until you see stars.

“Giving up already? You were doing so well for a while, you could’ve won,” he lilts.

“Jimin, please make me cum. Oh god,” you wail, legs straining for just that final push…

“Is this what you want?” He slides his thumb across, swiping whatever he could collect and using it to knead at your neglected clit. It’s all you need, pleasure washing over you in tandem of near oversensitivity, a near scream tearing through your lungs that only comes out in ragged whines against his leg.

“Beautiful, sweetheart. Fuck, you’re ruining my sheets over here,” he criticizes, removing his hand with an obscene squelch and moving around in the bed.

The torpor you caught yourself in didn’t render what he was saying, just letting him move you about so your head rests on his pillows while he places himself between your legs.

“Jiminie,” you babble, “fuck me.” He strokes your hair away from your face and smiles, that cute puppy smile that turns his eyes into crescents. The rest of him, though, is purely sinful. Hair sweaty and pieced to perfection as his body taunted you with toned muscles.

“I don’t think you’re ready, honey,” he answers, “even though you’re dripping in your own cum.” He leans back and stares at your pussy without embarrassment, pulling your knees together and watching the juices flow even more. “I should put it to use.”

You peer up at him, curious as to whatever the hell he’s dreaming of over there and inexplicably stunned when you see his dick between your legs. “J-Jimin, what are you doing?”

“Shh, just keep them closed tight,” he orders, fucking himself between the lips of your heat and the warm skin of your thighs. You can’t help but ravish the sight of him as he slicks himself up, eyeing you down as his hips roll into you agonizingly slow. His piercings graze against your nub occasionally, warmth once again growing in your stomach.

“Fuck, you’re so soft and so wet. Who did this to you, hm?” You moan maniacally, angling your hips as to catch him and push inside, but he only laughs degradingly and intentionally misses.

“You think I’m going to fuck you if you can’t even answer this simple question?” he sneers. “Answer like a good girl, then I’ll fuck you into oblivion.”

You scramble for words, initially incoherent and struggling. “Jimin! Shit, Jimin. You made me this way. Ah, you m-make me so wet, so please put it in, put it in and—ha, aah!”

He shoves his length in like it’s all he knew what to do, your ankles to his shoulders so he can drink up your moans with his reddened lips. He was right—the piercings didn’t feel like any dick you’ve received before, it was so much better. This was pornographic, it was so good. He all but pistols into you, his cock grazing places previously untouched. Indulging in his heaven sent strokes, you cry and groan at each relentless thrust.

“Hush, baby, Yoongi’s going to hear your pretty self,” he warns, but you don’t give a shit. If anything, you moan louder with a know-all glint in your eye, testing Jimin’s patience. “Brat,” he spits.

He pounds into you repeatedly, completely removing himself before filling you up again and again and again. Between the pressure to your g-spot and the added stimulation from his Jacob’s Ladder—your stomach heaves, an unfamiliar feeling washing over your abdomen contrary to anything you’ve ever experienced.

“Oh, Jimin, wait!” you sob, halting his hips from another brutal shove a little too late. The second he pulls out, your second orgasm (and first ever untouched orgasm) of the night reigns over, briefly showering his lower stomach in your own wet arousal.

“Holy shit, that’s so fucking hot. Did you just… squirt on me?” he growls, not taking the time to hear your answer as he lifts you into his lap, legs wrapped around his muscular back and arms gripping around his shoulders for dear life.

He sinks back into you deliciously, filling you to the brim with your added weight and rutting up into you to chase his own release. Everything is soaked and sticky, Jimin’s ragged breathing and groans so close to your ear that you’re sure it’ll be engrained into your memory forever, his thrusts so deep inside you wail once more.

Consequently, the banging on the wall next to you comes as no surprise, Yoongi’s angry, “Shut the fuck up!” clear as day. Jimin waves it off.

“Don’t listen baby. Moan louder for me. Tell me where you want my cum.”

The slaps of skin become louder; it wouldn’t be long before Jimin came. “Inside, Jiminie, please. Cum inside me, pump me full,” you squeal, lust sparking inside you knowing that his roommate could hear you getting fucked senseless.

One, two, three more aching pounds before he spills into you, his pretty moans music to your ears. You flop back as soon as he takes himself out, suddenly aching all over from how much he stretched your legs and groaning at the pain.

You slap his eager hand away when he fingers his cum back into your abused lips, “That hurts, idiot.” He smiles and sucks your intermingled cum off his fingers with a pop.

“We taste good together,” he husks. Fuck. “By the way. You came first. Stay the night?”

You oblige with or without the pressure of the bet, dog-tired from your beating and not even fathoming the trek back to your own room. Jimin takes charge in your state of haziness, washing you off in his shower, replacing your uniform with a t-shirt of his own and laying you beside him on his mattress (sheets replaced and refreshed).

“You have piercings in your dick,” you state in the middle of the quiet.

Jimin snorts at the outburst, looping an arm around your side and melding his body to yours, “Yeah, is it weird?”

“… Robot dick,” you whisper, words cracking at the face of your laughter.

“Oh my god.”

“So, when you’re going through metal detectors at airports and whatever, do you have to tell them that the metal’s in your penis? Do they have to check?” Titters are awarded with light jabs to your side, which are then led to screams and kicks to his legs.

Yoongi bursts through Jimin’s door, brows stitched together in heated anger parallel to the flames of hell, “I swear to fucking god, if you two don’t quiet down I’ll mount your heads on my wall, it’ll make a great decoration.”

“What the hell, what if we were naked? Don’t just go busting through—”

“Yeah because you obviously care if I know you two are fucking. ‘Don’t listen, baby! Tell me where you want my cum, baby!’” Yoongi mocks. Pillows are flying and insults are thrown as you watch them bicker sleepily, all fading into white noise as you begin to drift off.

Sleep itself feels like a blink, so exhausted that you don’t dream. Waking in the same position that you were last conscious in, the only difference in picture is the fact that: A) the sun is shining through Jimin’s skylight and B) Jimin is no longer in bed with you.

But before you can even question where he’s run off to, his sly self sneaks back into the bedroom, shirtless and face clean from washing up just now. You don’t even hide the fact that you look down to check out his tight briefs, metal detector in your brain trying to scope it out.

“You’re awake. Sorry if I was loud,” he smiles, crawling on top of you as you stretch out like a mangled cat. You shake your head, combing his hair back with your nails as he dips down into your chest. “I like when you wear my shirts.”

“That’s pretty stereotypical,” you whisper out, voice low and raspy from your slumber. This isn’t fair, you think, he got to brush his teeth already.

He sits up and gives you A Look, making you giggle and giving you the leverage to feel up his abs as he flexes haughtily.

“I can get used to this,” you purr.

“I bet you could,” he mumbles into your neck, nipping at the places he already marked last night. He doesn’t push, just relishes in your warmth and fondles you carefully as you continue to wake up and it makes you shiver.

“I wish you would’ve done this a long time ago,” you sigh.

“You hated me.”

“You didn’t make it easy for me to like you,” you retort, gasping when he bites your collarbone, “Now—Now I like you.”

He stops abruptly and pulls away, landing on his side with an elbow and tilting his head towards you, “Well, I hope you don’t start liking me too much.”

You squint, “W-Why? Don’t tell me this was just a one night stand or anything.”

“No! I mean, not just one night or whatever. I just—this is just casual, right?”

You all but bite your tongue to keep from lashing out, “What do you mean ‘casual’? You didn’t say anything about ‘casual’.”

“Oh, Y/N, c’mon. Did you really think we should date? Look at us, baby. We’re just not… each other’s types, you know?”

It’s about time you get up, shoving aside his warm blankets and grabbing your soiled uniform from the floor, “No, Jimin. I don’t know. I thought you were being genuine with me.”

“Hey, no, don’t leave,” he grabs your arm before you leave his bedroom, “Okay, there was some miscommunication. I’m not trying to be mean. Can I just… I don’t know, think about it? I’m just not used to this.”

Looking into his eyes for some sort of confirmation, your tensions subside. “I’m not a toy. If you don’t want to be with me, just say it.” The hurt he feels in your tone breaks his heart, for once. Would he really be willing to try something he knows won’t work?

For you, maybe.

“I do like you, Y/N. Just give me some time.” He pulls your arm once more, hoping you’ll stay. But you draw the line and pry his hand off politely.

“Of course I’ll give you time. I’ll see you later, okay?” He nods understandingly. He can’t feel butthurt when he’s the one putting you on ice, he knows that. So Jimin watches you leave in his shirt, mind clouded more so than when you arrived.

a/n: yay! you made it through the first part! if you liked it, feel free to let me know or ask any questions to the characters! xx, selene

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purplesurveys · 4 years ago

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962

Do you have a pair of Beat headphones? I used to have a pair. I mean it’s still around in my closet, but it’s completely broken now with the cable all given out and the cushion for the left ear has been missing for a while. I just don’t have the heart to throw it out because it was my absolute favorite pair of headphones that gave me good memories during a particularly shitty time in high school.

How was your week? A little better. I’ve gotten into the groove at work so I’m no longer shy when it comes to asking questions and giving inputs, and I’ve gained a better grasp of the workplace’s dynamic so it’s also been easier to communicate with people. Heavy life stuff is still around and it won’t be leaving for a while, but they were easier to ignore this week.

Are any of your electronics not working properly at the moment? Not really, but my phone’s charger cable recently stopped working. I have a backup that I’m using at the moment and while it’s able to charge my phone, it’s starting to fray and I’m not feeling too good about the wires that I’m starting to see hahaha. I just don’t know how to take care of my cables, guys. Anyway, this question made me paranoid so I took a few minutes to wrap a shit ton of electrical tape on the frayed area so I think it’s all good for now.

Are you excited to pick out your wedding dress one day? I like thinking about my wedding but I truthfully dread the wedding gown part. I’ve never been able to decide what look and style suits me best and I’ve just never been good at determining things like that. I like to imagine that I’d leave that bit to whoever my maid of honor will be, because I’d definitely prize a second opinion more than my own.

When was the last time you felt relieved? Yesterday, 6 PM when I exited the last Google Meet for the day. It was a Friday night and it meant my work week was over :)) I mean I love what I do, but Friday nights will always hit differently.

Does it bother you when an artist remakes a song that one has previously done? I wouldn’t say it bothers me but covers are definitely a hit or miss for me, with way more misses than hits. Nothing wrong with acts putting their own spin on an already existing song, but I’m personally the “if it ain’t broke don’t fix it” type when it comes to music.

What brand of chapstick do you use? I don’t use any mainly because I’m bound to lose them within a week. Same goes for other care products.

Do you really think someone could be perfect? No. Everyone has their flaws and that should be okay to acknowledge.

When was the last time you cried? Wednesday, I think. It’s been three days! I’d count that as an achievement. But idk, my sadness comes in waves so I shouldn’t be celebrating too early. I’m sure I’ll feel a pang soon and be crying again over the weekend.

What’s a food that you like every once in awhile but not often? Cake. Too sweet and rich; I wouldn’t enjoy eating it every day. What letter is the song you’re listening to under? Not listening to music, but I have a YouTube video on.

Would you rather visit the 60s or 70s? 60s would be the lesser evil, I guess. I would NOT want to live through Martial Law in the 70s...I originally wasn’t even going to go with 60s because I think the world was a bit chaotic at the time, but I think my country was mostly unaffected by the political/cultural things happening then so it’s whatever.

Are you the type of person that enjoys getting hugs? I don’t actively seek them out but it feels nice when someone likes me enough to extend their arms out to me for a hug. I haven’t been hugged for a while and I feel kinda empty.

Do your socks say anything on them? I think some of my socks have the brand name on them but that’s it.

Name a TV channel that only has three letters in it. AMC.

Have you found out who your true friends are? For now, yes.

Gray or Grey? I use both spellings for no particular context. I simply like changing it up lol.

Will you be buying concert tickets any time soon? LOL of course not. And I’m very picky when it comes to concerts that I choose to attend anyway, so I doubt I would’ve bought any tickets in the last six months even without Covid unless it was for Paramore or Beyoncé.

Have you seen the movie The Perks of Being a Wallflower? Did you like it? Nope, but everyone was hyping that movie up when it came out. It never really looked like my thing < Yeah pretty much. I feel like it’s such a teenage-y movie so I was never drawn to it. I also think it would be too triggering for my depression, so I’ve felt wary about checking both book and movie out.

Is there something you’d fall apart if you didn’t have? One of my biggest fears is to end up alone, so I always have to have some form of a support system to fall back into. I would be very lost if I didn’t have at least one person to rely on.

How many weddings have you been to? I can think of four off the top of my head. I was either a flower girl or a junior bridesmaid for all of those.

When you smile, are you confident? Most times I am; I like to smile. But sometimes I smile just to fake it and avoid any questions.

Have you ever not done something because you were afraid of getting in trouble? Yesss, all the time. I’ve always been all about following the rules and I’ve never seen the appeal in breaking them. That makes me sound boring but at least I’ve never gotten in serious trouble lol.

Was the weather beautiful today? For me it is, but only because I like the rain and cloudy weather. Others might find it bleak and sad, but I feel right at home.

Do you have to have a fan on when you sleep? Yeah, all year long.

Would you rather have an orange, red or gray bedroom? If I had my dream modern/brutalist home, grey would be soooo fucking perfect for the bedroom.

Would you ever dye part of your hair blue? I’m open to it, but I don’t think it’ll be a good match for my black hair as both are darker shades as it is. If I could dye my hair I’d pick lighter colors like green or even go all the way to blonde.

Have you ever gone to a private school? Yeah, from kindergarten all the way to high school. Private schools here typically give a better quality of education and they don’t give off the for-lazy-spoiled-kids vibe that I always hear from private schools in other countries, which makes them the norm for middle and upper-middle class families.

Is Finding Nemo a favorite movie of yours? I have other favorite animated movies, but that doesn’t stop me from loving Finding Nemo. :) I would always tune in for the whole thing if it were on.

Does/Did your school have a uniform? I had to wear one in my first school, but I didn’t need one for college.

Turn on the TV. What channel are you on? No TV where I am. I think my parents are watching a movie on their TV, but it’s on Netflix rather than a channel.

Does your house have security cameras? It does not.

Does a popsicle sound good right now? Eh, I guess it sounds fine but I’d rather have a pint of ice cream. I think that fits better with the weather and the mood that I’m in today.

What’s your favorite exercise workout? My weight training class last year was a lot of fun. I always felt dead after every session haha but I definitely felt healthier. I wish the semester had gone on longer just for that one class.

What’s your favorite thing to do? Lol I love doing many different things < Same lmao this question is so vague??? My favorite thing to do these days is binge-watch Rhett and Link content, but I like doing so many other things too.

What did you do for your 17th birthday? I was with Gabie that day and we went to a local art museum, as well as to a restaurant that she had wanted to take me to.

Does your local Walmart have benches in them to rest? We don’t have Walmarts.

Was your favorite stuffed animal really a teddy bear growing up? I never had stuffed animals. Well I was given a few of them as gifts, but I was never into them and they always ended up being owned by my sister.

If your house was haunted, what would you do? Not even think about it. Just show them that I couldn’t care less, lol.

Are you good at swimming? I can do a few strokes and am pretty good at treading, but I'm prone to panic-kicking when I can tell that the water is too deep.

What’s worse: Slow internet or slow walkers? Slow internet is such a pain in the ass. Shouldn’t even have to be an issue in 2020 anymore.

What is the rudest thing a guy has ever done to you? Cat-called, whistled at, winked at, lunged at. One good thing about this lockdown is that I haven’t had to deal with men as much as I used to. Do you sleep with the sheets tucked in or out? Well I only have one layer of bedsheet and it’s the one that covers up the mattress, so it’s tucked in by default. I have a blanket to cover me up when I’m cold.

What do you do to fall asleep faster? I find a few videos to watch as that tends to make me feel sleepy the quickest.

Do you carry a bottle of water wherever you go? I used to have a tumbler/water bottle in college but I forgot it at the gym one day and when I came back for it, somebody already stole it :( It was such a handy water bottle because it kept my water cold all day, so it sucks that I lost it. I’m planning to buy the same model again soon.

Are you afraid that one day you might get cancer? It doesn’t really run in my family save for one grand-aunt who had cancer, so I’m not too worried. But I’ve accepted the fact that it is at least a possibility.

Are you a fast or slow walker? I like being in the middle. Slow walkers are annoying so I try not to be one, and walking fast just reminds me of my mom and how quickly she walks at malls when she’s supposed to be spending time with her family lol.

Do you usually have to wear a belt with your pants? No. They all fit me just fine.

Does it bother you when people’s underwear hangs out? Eghhh, it really does. I know it shouldn’t but it really does. I just feel like it’s so invasive and it gives me a lot of secondhand embarassment.

Are you usually the person to try new things with your hair? Not really. I like staying safe with my hair. The most daring thing I’ve done with it is get bangs tbh, and I don’t plan on going any further than that.

When’s your birthday? April 21st.

What age do you look forward to reaching? I don’t feel that way about any age. Whenever I reach ultimate satisfaction and security will be a good enough age for me.

Name a state that begins with the letter M. Minnesota.

What’s the first thing you do after a car accident? Think about how to tell my parents. D:

What do you use to get rid of bad breath? Brush my teeth, drink water.

What exercise do you hate the most? Pull-ups.

What do you do at a party? Drink, socialize, tell stories, eat allllllll the food ha.

#survey #surveys

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numba99 · 5 years ago

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Fatal Attraction Part 4

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Summary: When a mysterious man shows up at your job, you find yourself inexplicably drawn to him - and him to you. But behind the beautiful face is the dark lifestyle of a man who has made his wealth through becoming the most powerful drug dealer in the city. Word count: 3.7k

Song: Loft Music // The Weeknd

Warning: this part may kinda intense? idk?? some physical fighting and some light smut

When you woke up, your bed was empty. For a split second you thought you dreamt everything from the night before, however, the noises coming from the kitchen told you it had to have been real. You crept out of bed, stepping over Mika’s clothes, which you were happy to see were still on the floor.

You found him at the stove, his back to you as he was cooking up breakfast. You slid your arms around him from behind, on your tip toes so you could rest your head on his shoulder. “Morning,” you murmured into him.

“Morning,” Mika replied, snuggling his head against yours. He stirred some eggs in a frying pan, while you just clung to him, not wanting to let go. “I have to say, your food supply is severely lacking. It’s a miracle I could get this together.”

You rolled your eyes, playfully pushing him, “Give me a break I missed my grocery shopping day this week.” You were a little preoccupied with figuring out if Mika had ghosted you or gotten himself killed, but you thought it was best not to make him feel bad by saying that.

You sat down at the tiny table you use as a kitchen table while Mika plated the eggs. You were pretty sure this table was supposed to be a beside table, but it managed to fit two plates so it didn’t really matter. Mika sat in the creaky little chair across from you and you couldn't help but smile. It was weird, seeing him here with you like this. It almost felt out of place and yet, you couldn’t imagine ever eating there alone again.

“Damn these are good,” you said as you swallowed a forkful. You thought the scrambled eggs you made were good, but these were fancy brunch restaurant level. “Successful, good looking, and you can cook? You really might be the Prince Charming I’ve been dreaming of,” you teased.

“Was your Prince Charming also a drug dealer?” Mika asked, a smile playing at his lips.

“He wasn’t a dealer, he was the head of an empire,” you threw his words back at him. Mika laughed, continuing to poke at the food with his fork. You didn’t miss the blush that came up to his cheeks, though.

“So I’ve been thinking,” Mika began as he finished up, “If we’re gonna do this, I don’t want there to be secrets between the two of us. I want you to know what’s going on.”

You nodded, “I think that sounds really smart.” You didn’t do well with secrets in normal circumstances, but with something like this it would be a lot more difficult. Plus, it made you feel good the Mika was trusting you this much.

“I’ve got a meeting later with some people who work for me. I’d like you to come, if you’re up for it. I get it though if it’s too overwh-”

“I’d love to be there,” you cut him off. You were already kicking around outfit ideas in your head. If you were gonna be a drug lord’s First Lady, you would need to dress the part.

“There’s one other thing,” Mika said, taking a long sip of his coffee.

“What’s that?” you asked.

“I’d like you to move in with me.” You choked on your drink, having to cover your mouth to not spray it all over the place. “Don’t act too excited,” he chuckled.

“What happened to taking things slow?” you asked when you finally caught your breath. Not that the idea of moving in with Mika totally turned your off, it just seemed like a complete 180 from last night.

“I know it sounds like a lot,” Mika replied, “I just like the idea of keeping you close to me, so I can make sure you’re safe. You could have your own room, I don’t mind giving you space for yourself.”

It was a tempting offer, but part of you were attached to your shitty little apartment. It was one of the few things that were your own. You worked really hard for it, and it would be weird to give it up. “Can I think about it?” you asked.

“Of course,” Mika gave your hand a squeeze, “In the mean time I probably should get back to my place and change into new clothes.”

“Can I come? I mean, I probably should be scoping out the place that could be my new home,�� you replied, giddy to see where he lived. You could only imagine how nice it would be with he resources he had.

“You should definitely come. And maybe bring an overnight bag? The meeting might end late... and I selfishly want you to sleep over,” Mika replied.

You leaned over the table, pressing a kiss to his lips. “I’ll be ready to go in ten minutes.” You went off to your room, digging out a duffle bag from your closet and filling it with whatever you thought you would need. It was probably a bit much for staying just one night, but you wanted to be prepared.

“I said a night, not a week,” Mika teased, leaning against your front door.

“Says the dude who asked me to move in with him after dating for like 16 hours,” you shot back.

“Touché. You ready?” You nodded, following him out the door. His driver was waiting for the two of you already. You weren’t self conscious about getting too close to Mika anymore, curling right up to him in the backseat. He lazily ran his hand up and down your side, staring out the window.

“What are you thinking about?” you asked, looking up at him.

Mika, smiled looking down, “You.”

You made a fake gagging noise, “Way too cheesy. What are you really thinking about?”

“I was being serious,” Mika chuckled, “I’m thinking about how good you’ll look next to me tonight.” His kissed your forehead, returning his attention to the world outside the window. Even if it was cheesy, it made you blush. You never thought you would be so excited to sit in on a meeting with a bunch of drug dealers.

The car eventually stopped and you got out to find a glass high-rise towering over you. “This is where you live?” you asked incredulously. Sure, you have seen these buildings before, it was hard to ignore these giant, glittering structures that dotted the skyline, but you never really thought about the people who lived there. It seemed impossible, you couldn’t fathom someone living so luxuriously. Not to mention how insane the rent must be.

“Eh, it’s nicer on the outside,” Mika winked. He took your hand and led your inside. The lobby was like a hotel and everyone inside was either dripping in money or taking care of the people dripping in money. A far cry from the creepy old men that sit in first floor of your apartment building to stare at the young girls walking by.

In the elevator, Mika punched in a code on the keypad, which you eyed in confusion. “It’s to get up to my place,” he explained noting the look on your face, “It’s a security code so no one else can get to my floor. Most penthouses have.” Right, like it’s that casual to have a penthouse in New York City.

The elevator kept going up and up, and you wondered if it would ever stop. You guessed you were at the top floor when the ding sounded and the doors slid open.

“Holy shit,” you gasped, stepping into the apartment. Apartment didn’t even feel like the right word, it really was like mansion that happened to be on top of one of the tallest buildings in the city. Everything was sleek and sexy, much like the man standing beside you. The windows were floor to ceiling, allowing natural light to spill into the sprawling rooms making everything seem that much bigger. You walked forward, taking it all in: the luxurious furniture, the private balcony, the fucking second floor in the apartment. Who the hell in Manhattan has a place with two floors?

“This is amazing,” you breathed, looking down at the city. It felt so impossibly small from up here. “God you must of thought my place was a fucking dump.”

“Not at all,” Mika shook his head, “I’m just glad you like it here.” Mika wrapped his arms around you and kissed your cheek.

“Like it? This... this is like a dream. I can’t even believe it,” you replied. This was making the whole “I wanna stay independent in my own place” thing seemed stupid now.

“Let me show you around,” Mika said and you followed eagerly. Everything seemed more impressive than the room before. The living room had a real wood burning fireplace etched into the marble mantle. His bathroom had a shower and a separate tub, which was positioned right next to a window. That surely gave you some ideas. Up the stairs was his bedroom, which easily fit a king-sized bed. You thought his bedroom was probably bigger than your entire apartment. And his closet looked like a luxury boutique.

“Mika, this is amazing,” you said when he finally led you back down to the main floor.

“Have I convinced you to move in with me yet?” He smirked, holding you close to him.

“You’re much closer than you were this morning,” you replied. That made him smile brightly. Mika told you to make yourself at home while he made some calls, which was very easy to do. You headed to the kitchen for a snack and now understand Mika’s comments about yours. He basically had a fully stocked food store at his disposal.

After that you wandered around the house a bit. Though Mika gave you a tour, the place was so big there was still so much to discover. Mika found you a while later, marveling again at the spacious bathroom.

“You can use that later, if you’d like,” Mika said as he watched you run your hands over the tub’s edge.

“Seems too big to be in alone,” you heard yourself say. You really need a lesson in taking things slow, you thought to yourself.

Mika laughed though, replying, “I’ve always thought that too.” Mika then let you know you'd be heading out soon, so he set you up in a guest room to get ready. You dug through your duffle bag, trying to put something together from all the clothes you stuffed in there. What does one wear to one of these kinds of things? You certainly didn’t know.

Eventually you decided on a little black skirt and a silky top that showed off your chest perfectly. Not exactly what you’d wear to a professional business meeting, but you felt like it fit the occasion.

“Wow,” Mika said, watching you descend the stairs. He took you by the hand, spinning you around, “Maybe you shouldn’t come tonight. I need everyone focused and you are one hell of a distraction.”

“Oh please,” you rolled your eyes, pretending like his comment didn’t make you smitten.

Before Mika could reply, Chris came in. “Ready to go when you are,” he announced. Mika thanked him, lacing his fingers through yours and leading you back to the elevator.

“So there are some things we should go over,” Mika said as you both settled in to the car, “There are going to be some people with big guns there tonight. It’s a security thing, I don’t want you to freak out.”

“Mika, I’ve walked through Penn Station, I’ve seen big guys with big guns I’ll be fine,” you replied.

“Okay, okay,” Mika replied, “But I don’t want you to leave my side, okay? Everyone there are part of my closest circle, and trust them, but still I can never be too careful. Especially when it come to you.”

“Is there anyone you trust completely?” you asked.

“Chris,” he responded simply.

“You hear that Chris, you’re the chosen one,” you called up to Chris, who was in his usual spot in the passenger seat.

He turned around, giving you the first smile you think you’ve ever seen from him. “Lucky me,” he replied, before turning back around. Mika told you it would take a little while to get there. Not that it was that far, but they loop around and take back ways to ensure they aren’t being followed. You hadn’t ever really been scared to be with Mika, but it suddenly dawned on you that this was real. You weren’t in some crazy movie, this was all really happening to you.

You had some time to think about how fucking crazy your life is before you finally arrived. The outside didn’t look like much. If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought it was just a run down abandoned warehouse, but you guessed that was the point.

Mika’s arm was wrapped tightly around you as walked inside. After a short walk down a dimly lit hallway, you came to a door way guarded by two of the infamous men with big guns. They let you, Mika, and Chris pass without a word. Behind the doors was a dark, windowless room with a long table populated with 4 men, as well as a couple of other armed guards standing at attention. At the head of the table was an empty chair, the biggest in the room, looking more like a throne. You knew who that was for.

“Now I know why you were late,” one of the men - a blond, who looked fairly young - smirked.

“Relax, Lias,” Mika replied as you walked you to the head of the table. Lias settled back in his seat, but his eyes were still on you. You felt self conscious, realizing as you sat beside Mika that the were all staring at you.

“Who’s this?” asked a well-dressed man, who's looks rivaled Mika’s.

“This is y/n, we’re dating,” Mika replied.

“God finally. You’ve been so uptight lately, I was hoping you’d get laid soon,” a different man piped up, making you blush.

“Mats, please,” Mika replied sternly.

“So we just bring random girls here now? How do we know she’s not working for Dimitri?” the well-dressed cut in.

“I agree with the Henrik, this doesn’t seem smart,” Lias added, “Even if she is hot.”

“Would you all shut up,” Mika snapped, “Do you really think I’m that stupid? To bring someone here I don’t trust?” All of the men shrunk in their seats, shaking their heads. “You all seem to forget who’s in charge here sometimes.”

“Sorry boss,” Mats replied, “It’s nice to meet you, y/n. Happy to have you here.”

“Thanks,” you replied awkwardly, “It’s nice to meet all of you.” The rest of them mumbled greetings back to you.

“Can we get to business, or do you guys wanna bitch some more?” Mika asked, scanning the men that sat before him. No one contested, so they got to business. You tried to pay attention the best you could; it was a bit of an out of body experience at first. You learned the last man’s name was Jesper, and that each of them were responsible for overseeing different areas of Mika’s coke trade in the city.Right now they were discussing a huge shipment Mika had coming in, one they were sure Dimitri was going to try to sabotage if he found out the details of it.

It was hard for you to focus on this details, however, as you watched Mika at work. He always exuded a strong energy, but the way these men looked at him, followed all of his words without question, the power he had was arousing. Not to mention, he kept his hand on your inner thigh rubbing little circles over the delicate skin, which definitely not helping the stirring between your legs.

“So we all know what are roles are when the shipment comes?” Mika asked. Everyone nodded and Mika continued, “Alright, we’re good here then. You’re free to go.”

The atmosphere broke in the room after that, feeling a lot more like some friends hanging out than a much of guys planning to smuggle millions of dollars of coke into the city. It was comical how swift the shift was.

“Sorry about before,” Henrik said to you, “Can't be too cautious in our line of work, but if Mika trusts you, you’re family.” You smiled as he pulled you in for a hug.

“For the record, I never questioned you,” Mats jumped. You didn’t miss how his eyes scanned your body. Neither did Mika, apparently.

“Alright, back up,” he said, half kidding. He wrapped his arms around you, kissing your cheek as if to mark what was his, if it wasn’t already obvious. “If you guys are done drooling, there’s actually something I have for y/n.” They nodded, listening to Mika as always and heading out of the room with a final goodbye.

“What do you have?” you asked Mika when you were alone... well alone with Chris and two guards.

“It would be better to show you,” He nodded to Chris, who whispered something in one of the guards ears. Both of of them disappeared out of the room. “If it’s too much just tell me.”

“What are you- oh my god,” you felt like the air was sucked out of you as the guard returned, dragging in none other than Thomas Holmes. He was more haggard looking than when you last saw him at the trial, but you would never forget his face.

Mika put his hands on your shoulder, whispering in your ear, “I thought you deserved to have some justice of your own.” The two guards held him firmly on his knees before you. You walked forward slowly, seeing him shake with fear as you got closer. You wondered if that was the same fear he saw on your parents face the night they were killed.

And then you snapped. In a fit of rage you blacked out, pounding away at him as half screams half cries left your throat. It was like all the anger, fear, pain, everything you felt since the day your parents died was flooding out of you. You kept going until you got it all out, then backed up, practically stumbling into Mika’s arms.

He held you tightly, letting cry out the last few tears you had, before wiping them off your cheeks. “You okay baby?” he asked, to which you nodded. He hugged you again, saying to the guards, “Take him out back and finish him off. Hide his body where no one will find it.”

“No please! Please don’t I’m sorry!” Thomas screamed as the guards began to drag him away.

“Wait!” you stopped them. The guards looked to Mika, awaiting instruction from him.

“You answer to her tonight,” Mika told them firmly. The guards wordlessly brought him back over to you.

“I don’t want him dead,” you said.

“Oh bless you, thank you, thank y-”

“Not so fast,” you cut him off, crouching down to look him in the eye, “I don’t want you dead today. My mind may change tomorrow, next month, maybe even next year. And if I do, you better believe you will end up dead. You’ll never really be safe for the rest of your life. As long as you live you’ll be looking over your shoulder, praying I haven’t changed my mind.” You saw the fear in his eyes and you weirdly liked it. It made you feel powerful, and it wasn’t like he didn’t deserve this.

You told the guards to get him out of your face, before turning back to Mika, who was looking at you stunned. “Would it be wrong to say I thought that was hot,” Mika said.

“Only if it was wrong that I enjoyed it,” you replied. Maybe enjoyed wasn't exactly the right word. It was intensely emotional, but it also felt like such a weight off your chest. You had stored so much hatred and fear in your body because of that man for years now it was all out. You felt ten pounds lighter.

Mika smiled hungrily at you, “Lets go home, yeah?” You nodded taking his hand and heading out. The ride felt quicker, though you took just as many turns and back ways as you did when you came. Maybe it was because your mind was elsewhere, processing everything that took place in these last few hours.

Once back inside Mika’s place, you found yourself walking over to the wall of windows. It was the same view from this morning, of course, but at night with all the lights glimmering below you it was totally different. It was being in like another world.

“You sure you’re okay? I know that must have been... emotional for you,” Mika asked carefully. He slipped his arms around your from behind, kissing your cheek.

“Yeah, it felt good. Like a relief. I just can’t believe you did that for me,” you replied.

“I would do anything for you,” Mika said seriously, his hand squeezing your hips softly. His lips found your neck, peppering kisses over your skin. “I don’t think you realize the power you have.”

“Mmm, and what power is that?” you asked, tilting your head back so Mika had more room to kiss you.

“You could give me a name, any name in this city, and in 24 hours I’d have them in front of you and they’d be at your mercy,” Mika told you between kisses. His hand slipped under your skirt, rubbing you through your underwear. “See this city honey? I run this whole fucking place, and it’s all yours now too. It’s ours.” HIs hand went down the front of your underwear, making your gasp. You hadn’t expected the contact, but you were grateful for it.

“Mika,” you moaned softly. One of your hands pressed against the glass as he ran his fingers through your wetness. He alternated be long, purposeful pumps of his fingers and rubbing circles over your clit. Your free hand reached back and tangled into his hair. You’ve never had a man make you feel so good so fast, and it wasn’t long before he worked you up so much you were cumming all over his fingers. “Fuck,” you whined when you finished, your knees buckled beneath you.

Mika peppered a few more kisses on you before scooping you up. “Let’s get you to bed sweetheart,” Mika murmured, walking with you in his arms. You fell asleep before he even got you to the bedroom.

#fatal attraction #m zibanejad #mika zibanejad imagine #mika zibanejad smut #new york rangers imagine #new york rangers smut #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagines

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teaveetamer · 5 years ago

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My Issues With TFioS (and Other Elements of John Green)

Alright I’m just going to preface this with two things.

It’s been about six years since I’ve read the entire thing through, so my points are probably not going to be as detailed or precise as they were when I first read it.

If you enjoyed the book, identify with the fanbase, or like John Green in any capacity... Great! You might want to skip this one. This is definitely not the post for you. I’m going to put all of my more controversial thoughts under the cut so if you don’t want to see them you can just move on.

I brought up the book in that other post because I felt it had relevance to the discussion of “authors using characters as a mouthpiece”, but that’s only a small part of my issue with the book itself. I suppose I could have used a fanfiction example, since there’s more than enough fodder there, but I brought up The Fault in our Stars specifically because I feel comfortable criticizing a book in a way that I don’t feel comfortable criticizing fan works. John Green is a public figure that produced a paid product, made money, and does this professionally, while most fanfic authors are amateurs that provide free entertainment and just do it for fun.

Now with that said, we move on to the meat of the post.

Some Background

Perhaps this is not a little known fact, but I absolutely adore love stories. I don’t have incredibly high standards for them by any means, and in fact I actively enjoy them even when they aren’t the deepest, most thought provoking pieces. Someone got me a copy of Red, White, and Royal Blue for my birthday this year and I read the entire thing cover to cover in a day (and I seriously recommend if you’re looking for a pretty easy read with a lot of gay).

The only thing I love more than love stories? Tragic love stories, of course. If anyone has followed my fanfiction or main blog for any amount of time then you know that I love a little bit of tragedy. Usually with a happy ending, but not always. So when one of my friends shoved (and I mean literally shoved) The Fault in Our Stars into my hands and billed it as a “tragic but heartwarming love story” I thought it would be perfect for me.

I was sixteen at the time, the target age demographic, and I was always looking for books with smart, well written teen characters. At this point in my life I’d never heard of John Green or his fanbase before. I tell you this because I disliked the book as I read it, but I think John Green and his fanbase are a major factor in why I disliked it so much I’m willing to sit down and write a blog post about it six years later. Granted, that’s not all on the book, but it is a factor.

Needless to say, I was not all that impressed by it. At some points I was downright infuriated, really.

My Issues With the Book

In summary, it feels very meh and overly pretentious. After about two chapters I just wanted to put it down, and the only reason I pushed through is because my friend insisted that it got better. She said it was funny, relatable, and intelligent, but I found it to be none of these things.

The impression I got was that the author, whoever he was, fancied himself terribly clever and he wanted everyone to know it. You know the type, the kinds of people that go around and assure everyone of how smart they are? It feels like it was made for haughty teens to brag about how intelligent they were because they read a “deep” book. The book itself, despite being a surface level of “witty”, didn’t really have anything to say. In the end it reads like a thirty-something year old man bragging about how smart he is and waxing philosophical about the nature of life (and... Breakfast food..?) and using a fictional teenage girl to do it.

That’s why I brought up the “mouthpiece” thing. I didn’t want to read a book about a thirty-something dressing up his thoughts as a teenage girl. I wanted to read a book about a teenage girl.

Speaking of Hazel Grace… I don’t know if this is a common experience, but can anyone else tell when a man writes a female character? I find that I usually can. Men have a particular voice when they write, and especially when they write women. Every single page hammered me over the head with the fact that this was a man who was trying (and, in my opinion, failing miserably) to write a relatable teenage girl. And, in my opinion, he parroted a lot of very upsetting, dangerous mentalities for young women.

There were quite a few “I’m not like other girls, and not just because of the cancer!” moments (a mentality that I find wholly problematic coming from other women, let alone a man writing for a woman) that just had me rolling my eyes straight out of their sockets. She doesn’t care about shoes, see! She reads books! Isn’t that awesome and unique? Because, apparently, women are not allowed to do both.

These problematic mentalities extend into the book’s romance plot, too. Augustus is, frankly, one of the creepiest motherfuckers I’ve ever had the displeasure to read about. Not only is his aggressive creepiness portrayed as romantic, but Hazel reacts exactly how men wish women would react to their advances. Unfortunately I don’t have a copy of the book in front of me so you won’t get much in the way of direct quotes, but some examples include:

He stares at her, completely unblinking, for the duration of their cancer kids support group meeting… before they’ve even so much as spoken a word to each other. Which also features this gem of a quote: "A nonhot boy stares at you relentlessly and it is, at best, awkward and, at worst, a form of assault. But a hot boy . . . well." which just perpetuates the disgusting misconception that women are okay with being creeped on as long as a guy is attractive. Spoiler alert: We fucking aren’t.

He repeatedly refers to Hazel as “Hazel Grace”, despite her introducing herself as “Hazel” and asking him to just call her “Hazel”. And not only does he ask for her full name, he demands she give it to him. This rings all kinds of alarm bells for me, because you know who else does that kind of shit? Christian Grey. And it’s manipulative, disrespectful, and downright rude. It is essentially saying “I hear your desires, but I would prefer to address you how I want to address you, not how you would like to be addressed, because my ego is more important than your comfort”.

Hazel is perfectly fine with getting into a complete stranger’s car and spending time at his house mere minutes after meeting with him and after all of the questionable shit he just pulled.

Continuing this book’s litany of problems with women, let’s talk about Isaac’s (ex)girlfriend. The book treats their breakup as this massive betrayal, then even goes on to justify vandalizing her property because of it.

I’m sorry, but no.

You, as an autonomous human being, have the right to end a relationship with someone else whenever, wherever, and for whatever reasons you designate, regardless of previously expressed emotions or promises. How and when she did it was not the most ideal, but she’s an emotionally immature teenager, and there’s never going to be a good time to do something like this. What was she supposed to do, keep pity dating him because she felt sorry for him? Wait until someone invented technology to cure blindness? Assuming she did actually break up with him because of his disability… Are her reasons shitty? Sure. But she’s allowed to have them.

And you know what? He’s allowed to be mad about it. His anger might be completely understandable, if not totally justified. But you know what else? That does not give him the right to take revenge on her by vandalizing her property.

I would have no problem with this scene if it were honest about what it was: a bunch of teenagers with under-developed frontal lobes that are angry and feeling vindictive. But it’s not that. It’s depicted as not only completely justified, but heroic. I’m sorry, no. You are never heroic for harassing another human being.

And Augustus’s dumb little speech to her mom is such garbage. You really expect me to believe that a grown woman was so pwned by some jerk teenager’s super witty justification for destroying her property that she just went inside and, idk, watched TV? Didn’t call the police to report the crime that he and his friends were actively committing against her? Bullshit.

Speaking of bullshit, that scene is pretty egregious, but that doesn’t even begin to cover my issues with this book’s pretentious dialogue. If you told me that they ran every word in this book through Thesaurus.com then I would believe you without hesitation. The one hook, the draw, the thing that kept me reading was supposed to be the relatable characters, but they just aren’t relatable. They’re not realistic in the slightest. Seriously, go read any line of this book out loud and tell me how ridiculous you feel. I kept expecting Augustus to pull off his skinsuit and reveal that he was secretly a robot trying to imitate human speech the entire time.

I’m not sure how far I can go into this point without giving you direct quotes, but half the stuff that comes out of these characters mouths is pseudo-intellectual nonsense. “Put the killing thing between your teeth so it can’t kill you”?

It’s not a metaphor.

Putting an unlit cigarette in your mouth is still stupid. I guess it won’t give you lung cancer, but really? It’s still not a great idea.

Augustus has to go buy these cigarettes, which means he’s actively going out and giving money to an industry that has been funding pseudoscience and suppressing health initiatives that would prevent people from suffering what he did (i.e. fucking cancer).

Here’s a clue: Tobacco companies don’t actually care about what you do with the cigarettes. Their transaction stops as soon as you put the money in their hands. I could purchase a hundred packs and throw them in the garbage, and the only thing they know is that they got about $600 from me. Way to “stick it to the man”, asshole. You’re not clever.

With the exception of the Isaac’s-girlfriend thing, all of that is in chapters 1-4, by the way. This book turned me off so thoroughly that early.

So by the time the Amsterdam trip rolled around I was already not enjoying this book, but then this thing happened and it was just the final nail in the coffin for me. You probably know what I’m talking about already, but if you don’t… The Anne Frank Museum kiss.

I honestly cannot even articulate how incredibly tasteless and disrespectful I find the entire thing, and not only does that happen, but it’s followed by an r/ThatHappened “and then everybody stood up and clapped!” Seriously?

There are smarter, more well-versed people than me that have covered this topic, so I’ll leave the analysis for why that’s all kinds of wrong to them.

Those are really my big gripes, though there’s a few smaller ones (like Augustus throwing a pre-funeral like are you a psychopath? Why would you put the people you love through that???) that I’m not going to touch on because they weren’t all that instrumental in putting me off. Instead I’ll move on to the external factors.

The Fanbase

So I finished the book, a little miffed at having just wasted my time, and immediately told my friend that I didn’t like it much, and that I would be returning her copy the next day. Feeling pretty meh-to-slightly-negative about it, but whatever, it happens.

I was essentially met with “wow I can’t believe you didn’t get it.” and “Oh well maybe you’ll finally understand how deep it is when you’re older” from my friend. Which is really just one step away from the wow can’t you read?! BS that I’ve been seeing more and more frequently these days. So immediately I was pissed. All that aside, I was sixteen, the target age demographic? If I didn’t ‘get it’ then John Green was doing a pretty piss poor job of conveying what it is.

So I went online seeking something. Either validation that I wasn’t wrong and that I didn’t miss the point, the book just wasn’t great, or an explanation of what this it was that I’d missed. And let me tell you... Spotting a negative opinion of this book was like looking for a unicorn. There were a few, and many of them were met with the same kind of thing I had experienced. Vitriol, insistence that they were stupid or that they didn’t get it (again, with no explanation of what it was), and, apparently, a lot of harassment and threats.

I discovered that John Green’s target audience had a tendency to be… A bit obsessive. Lots of young, impressionable teenagers that were willing to jump on an opposing opinion with zealous outrage. If I had any interest in pursuing any of John Green’s other works or John Green as an internet personality any further, then it died in that moment. Absolutely nothing turns me off like a rabid, spiteful fanbase.

Now by this point I was already in the rabbit hole, and I began encountering a lot of criticisms of John Green and the things he’s said and done in the past. I did not like what I found.

John Green Himself

To be extremely blunt, the guy put such a bad taste in my mouth that it retroactively soured my opinion of The Fault in Our Stars even more. Since this is a post about my opinions on the book, I’m only going to be discussing things that affected my view at the time I read it. These are all things that happened six years ago, and I have no idea what this man has been up to or what he’s said about any of these topics since.

Let’s just get this out of the way… John Green writes the same book over and over. There’s always a quirky, nerdy white boy that is invariably cisgendered, and almost always straight. He is always an outcast with only a few friends, though apparently never directly bullied. He always meets an edgy girl that he falls in love with the idea of. Usually there is a road trip somewhere in there too.

The Fault in our Stars admittedly doesn’t follow the exact same framework, but it’s close enough in a lot of ways. Instead of the Quirky, Too-Smart-For-His-Own-Good cisboi being the PoV character, it’s the love interest (Hazel also fits this description, albeit a female version). Hazel and Augustus are both still outcasts. Hazel is attracted to Augustus because he’s Deep and Edgy and A Little Larger Than Life. The road trip is a flight to Amsterdam.

Looking at the man... Yeah the entire premise starts to come off as some weird self-insert fanfiction. I can feel the “I was a quirky, bullied teen and I wish this is how my high school life had been!” energy coming through absolutely every pore and every molecule of ink. Every character reads like John Green. John Green has written book after book and the main character always appears to be John Green in a slightly different teenage skinsuit.

And that’s fine, I guess. A little lazy, but I guess it’s working for him since he’s making hella bank? It’s certainly not enough to put me off the guy, just not something I’m interested in reading, and not something I find compelling.

What put me off for good were some of his comments. Dude skeeves me the fuck out. I’ll just go over some of the highlights I found at the time, and why they upset me so much when I heard them.

“Nerd girls are the world's most underutilized romantic resource.”

As a nerdy girl that has been stalked and harassed by men because I’m “good girlfriend material” (aka I like video games and traditionally masculine stuff and I’m pretty! I must be a unicorn!), this statement is disgusting.

I don’t care if it was a joke. I don’t care if he wasn’t being serious. This is the kind of shit that men think is a compliment because they think it makes “quirky” girls feel “unique” and “special”, but that “complement” is also an insult. You know why? Because it makes female interests all about how men perceive their sexual or romantic viability.

John Green’s penchant for writing “special” and “unique” girls (while simultaneously shaming “typical” girls, but I’ll get to that in the next point) and depicting them as the ideal woman just reaffirms my feelings about this quote. I think, on some level, John Green has no idea why this is such a bad take. And that’s not even getting into the fact that he called human beings resources. Women are not objects that exist to be a plot device or for your gratification. Fuck right off with that shit.

“She was incredibly hot, in that popular-girl-with-bleached-teeth-and-anorexia kind of way, which was Colin’s least favourite way of being hot”

This is just one quote of many that shames people with eating disorders and weight problems (on both ends of the spectrum, “too fat” and “too skinny”. Another fun one being: “there’s the weird culturally-constructed definition of hot, which means ‘that individual is malnourished, and has probably had plastic bags inserted into her breasts.’")

Know what this line is? It’s called “negging”, and it’s a popular tactic of incels because it works. You make someone seek your approval by intentionally giving them backhanded compliments to undermine their self esteem. The idea is that the more you insult them, the harder they’ll work to try and impress you. It doesn’t work on everyone, but you know who it does tend to work on? Insecure younger people (usually girls). You know who John Green’s target audience is? Insecure teenage girls.

As for the actual substance of the quote… I hate it. He’s shaming a woman for the choices she makes over her appearance. Which are, fun fact, none of his damn business. Also the idea that “skinny” and “anorexic” somehow need to go hand in hand is just wrong, insulting women for a mental health disorder they have no control over is offensive, and using a serious mental health disorder (did you know that anorexia is the most deadly mental health condition?) as an insult is disgusting.

Coming back to my earlier point about shaming “normal” girls, this quote is just the tip of the iceberg. He repeatedly shames women in his books for looking or behaving “typically”, while quirky girls are lauded as the ideal. Quirky girls are “weird and interesting” and normal girls are “boring”. If this was intended as a compliment, it’s a shitty one. If you have to shame one group to make another feel better, it is not a compliment. You are lowering all women when you pull that shit. You teach them that in order to feel good about themselves another group has to be made to feel worse.

And hey, maybe the pretty girl likes her teeth bleached because it makes her feel confident? Why can’t bleached teeth girl and anime t-shirt girl both be beautiful and unique and confident in their own right? Why is it “powerful” for anime t-shirt girl to wear her nerdy clothes, but scorn-worthy for bleached teeth girl to like bleaching her teeth?

What John Green is doing is simply replacing one ideal (skinny pretty girl) with another (quirky cute girl), and then he pretends like his version is somehow “woke” because it’s not based on physical appearance (though all of the women in his books are also physically attractive. Hmmm. Guess “nerd girls” are only “viable resources” when they aren’t hard to look at?).

And trust me, I’ve been down this path. I’ve been taken in by guys who try to make me feel ~special~ by putting down other women, and it leads to absolutely nothing good. It doesn’t make you feel better. It just makes you feel angry and resentful, and that’s not a place you want to be in. In fact, this was a mentality I had recently escaped from around the time I picked up this book. Seeing someone with as much influence as John Green parroting this specific brand of toxic shit to exactly the audience that would be most likely to feed into it? I was never going to be able to like the guy, sorry.

I know some people are able to “separate the art from the artist”, and I might have been willing to do that had the book actually been good… but it wasn’t. So in the end the book just looked worse for all of the author’s shortcomings.

So yeah, in summary: The book was mediocre at best, the author pushed all of my angry feminist buttons, and elements of the fanbase were annoying, condescending, and spiteful. I didn’t like the book in the first place due to the myriad of problems plaguing it, but everything else just made it look so much worse in hindsight.

Anyways, this probably got kind of ranty, but it was cathartic and I did make this blog to vent about dumb stuff. I think this qualifies.

#Personal stuff #TFioS Opinion Piece #Sorry it took so long #I had a lot to say #A little ranty

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only-kiwi · 5 years ago

Text

Demons V

okayyy let’s try this again. just posted this but it got deleted so it’s round two. i’m very proud of this chapter so i hope you love this. i love u all - mya x

TW: mentions of self harm, mentions of sexual assault, depression, eating disorder, use of drugs, swearing, age gap (19/24)

Three weeks. It had been three weeks and they hadn’t spoken to each other once. They didn’t even know why. Billie was racking her brain trying to find reasons as to why Harry wasn’t texting her. And Harry was racking his brain with things to say to her. It had all gotten a bit weird after the party.

The morning after the party, Billie woke up feeling worse than she had in a while. It was the guilt and shame of relapsing, she figured. There were so many voices and thoughts in her head and she wanted to scream. She couldn’t let Harry see that. Before, she could have told him any and everything and knew he wouldn’t just her but now, she only felt annoying and embarrassed when she spoke to him about these things. It wasn’t his fault, it wasn’t him making her feel this way. It was her making her feel this way.

Harry thought that maybe it was the kiss. He thought he made her uncomfortable. She enjoyed it, yes, but he was her only true friend and he ruined that. The party felt like it didn’t even happen, like it was all a dream. He woke up that next morning with Billie’s back to him and he couldn’t help but feel complete with her there. Now, his bed was cold and lonely like it used to be.

Harry would have felt better if he’d seen Billie and therapy but he didn’t and even though he was worried, he didn’t know what to do. She probably just didn’t want to see him. His thoughts were interrupted when his phone buzzed.

i fucked up.

He was worried. Three weeks of no talking and this is the first thing she says. It can’t have been that bad, he thought. But he doesn’t think she would have messaged him otherwise.

Are you okay?

something really bad happened. i wasn’t going to tell anyone but it’s all i can think about. idk what to do.

What did you do?

can i come over?

It didn’t take Billie long to get to Harry’s, maybe around ten minutes or so. Which was weird because it was usually and twenty minute drive from her house. Billie can’t have been at home when she messaged him, it worried him a bit. His doorbell rang and he ran to the door embarrassingly fast. Billie didn’t look good. She looked like she hadn’t slept, like she had been crying. Her eyes were tired and her hair was a mess. The last time she looked like this was the time Harry went to her house after she saw Willow with Claudia for the first time.

“Hey,” her voice was weak - broken, even. All Harry could do was pull the younger girl into w hug. Whatever she was going through, it seemed awful, and he needed to be there for her. As soon as his arms were wrapped around her she started crying. Neither of them knew how long they were standing there for but it didn’t matter. “I’m such an idiot.”

“What happened?” Harry asked slowly, pulling away to look at Billie. “Come sit, I’ll make you a cup of tea.”

Billie was sat on his sofa with a blanket wrapped around her as she waited for her tea and she suddenly felt at home. All she wanted to do was go to sleep and forget about what she had done. She didn’t want to talk about it, even though she knew she had to tell someone before she exploded. Harry’s voice made her jump slightly as he walked out of the kitchen and he instantly apologised and he placed the tea in her hands.

“I’m sorry to just spring this all on you. You probably have other things to worry about, I just-“

“You have nothing you be sorry for, B.” Harry assured her. “You don’t need to tell me what happened if you don’t want to, you know?”

“I know, but I have to tell someone. You’re the only one I can trust.” The corners of his lips curled up slightly at her words. “I haven’t been home in a week.”

“What? Where have you been? Were you safe? Are you hurt?”

“Willow texted me, saying that she needed to see me. And I know I shouldn’t have gone because I can’t keep letting her do this to me but I went anyway. She told me that her and Claudia broke up and she seemed really torn up about it. The same way I was with her. A part of me was actually glad she got to feel like that, it makes me sound bad but it’s true. But even after all of that, I wanted to be there for her.” Billie’s eyes were fixated on the mug in her hands, she refused to look at Harry. “I don’t know how it happened, or why it happened. We were both there, and we needed to feel something - anything. I’ve been with her all week.”

Harry nodded as she spoke, taking everything she said in. Billie had been sleeping with Willow again. He knew she was doing it as a way to feel, and he couldn’t fault her for that at all. He just wished she would stop doing this to herself. Harry had been in her shoes. After Robin died, he would find anyone he could just to make him forget and feel something.

“I get it, Billie, I really do. But why are you so torn up about it?”

“Last night she kept trying to do it again but I told her that I wasn’t up to it. She got annoyed at me so I let her do what she wanted. But I just felt so uncomfortable so I asked her to stop - she didn’t. I thought that maybe she didn’t hear me so I asked her again. And again.” Harry knew where this was going so he took the tea out of her hands and placed it on the coffee table, moving closer to her. “I don’t know what came over her or why she didn’t stop. I think she was so clouded by her emotions.”

“Don’t make excuses for her,” Harry said before Billie could continue, “what she did was disgusting. I’m really sorry that happened to you. No one deserves that. Did she hurt you in any way?”

Billie shook her head. “No, she just wouldn’t let me move.” She finally looked up at Harry, how eyes were glossed over with tears. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t you dare. None of this is your fault, okay? She had no right to do that to you.”

“I never should have messaged her back. I never should have gone round. Maybe if I wasn’t so stupid I wouldn’t be here.”

It killed Harry to hear her blame herself, and he didn’t know what to do. So he wrapped his arms around her and held her close. He was so selfish, thinking she was ignoring him because of a stupid kiss when she was really going through so much more.

“How about we go upstairs and take a nap, hm?” He asked softly, running his hand through Billie’s hair as she closed her eyes.

“Can we stay down here?” The tired girl muttered. “And can I borrow a jumper?”

Harry breathed out a light laugh, knowing how much she loved wearing his clothes. “Course you can.”

Billie was exhausted. She was broken, confused and hurt. This is a shitty thing to happen to anyone, but she hadn’t expected it to be Willow. Someone she used to be so in love with. She was heartbroken all over again, only this time it was so much worse. Being cuddled up to Harry the way she was now made her feel safe. She was warm and calm and she needed him around. She thought she might have gone completely crazy if she hadn’t texted him.

“My parents are probably so worried,” Billie realised. “Jacob, too.”

“You’ve not spoken to them?” He asked and Billie shook her head. “Where’s your phone?”

When Billie handed Harry her phone, it was already off and he wondered when she last had it on. He could only imagine how many calls and messages she’d gotten from her family. As soon as he turned it on, there were countless messages from her parents and bother asking her where she was and if she was okay. There was one from Jacob this morning saying that their parents were thinking about calling the police. There was a few from Willow, he knew he shouldn’t have read them but he couldn’t help it. Willow hadn’t stopped messaging her all night, it seemed. She asked where Billie went and if she was okay, she even apologised for being ‘too rough’. Harry wanted to be sick. He quickly sent a text to Jacob, making sure everyone knew Billie was safe.

Hi, Jacob it’s Harry. Billie’s safe, she’s been with me for about an hour. I’ll bring her home soon but she really needs some time to rest. I just thought I’d let you know that she’s okay.

Harry didn’t really know what to say. He figured that if Billie wanted to tell them what happened, she would, and it wasn’t his place to do so. He placed her phone on the coffee table and wrapped his arms around her once more. He felt her tighten her grip on him slightly, knowing she needed him close. He placed a kiss on the top of her head and wiped away the tears that were soaking his shirt.

“You’re strong, Billie.” He whispered. “You’ve got this.”

***

Billie woke up hours later with an awful headache and puffy eyes. Sleeping didn’t make her feel any better, it just made her forget about everything for a bit. She wouldn’t mind being able to sleep forever.

“Harry?” She called out, wondering why he hadn’t been next to her like she remembered.

Within seconds, he came rushing into the living room. “You’re awake,” he smiled, “are you okay? Do you need anything? I was just making dinner, thought you’d might like something to eat.”

She stared at him, “stop acting weird.”

“I’m not-“

“Yeah, you are. You’re acting like I’m gonna break or something. I’d really appreciate it if we could just act like everything’s normal. I don’t want you to walk on eggshells around me.” Billie told him. Harry didn’t realise he was actually weird, he just really wanted her to be okay.

“Sorry, I just want you to feel a bit better. So, dinner?” He tried to change the subject.

“I’m not really hungry, Harry.”

“You have to eat something. Even if it’s just a little bit. I know what you’re doing and it’s not good, don’t do this to yourself.” Harry’s eyes practically begged Billie to eat literally anything. Because if she didn’t, she would stop again. And no one wanted that.

“Okay,” she stuttered. She hadn’t eaten properly in a while, she’d been so wrapped up in Willow that food didn’t seem to matter. She didn’t even release how hungry she was.

Harry decided it would be a good idea to put a movie on while they were eating. It would distract Billie and she wouldn’t think about the food too much. He let her pick the movie, and she opted for her all time favourite - Love, Rosie.

“Fucking love this film.” Harry told her, making her smile slightly.

“It’s my favourite. I like how it’s not so straight forward.”

“What do you mean?”

“Most films make out love to be this amazing thing and it is but it’s also unrealistic. This shows that it’s not easy to fall in love, and even when you do, it’s still not easy. Things always get in the way.” She shrugged, sipping her water. Harry thought for a minute, and she was right. He wasn’t stupid, he knew love wasn’t what it seemed, but he didn’t think of the movie in that way. Billie’s next question, however, caught him off guard. “Have you ever been in love?”

He nodded, “once.”

“Kendall?”

“Oh, god. No!” He scrunched up his nose. “I liked her a lot but I definitely wasn’t in love with her.”

“Then who?”

He thought for a moment, wondering if he should tell her. Of course, she wouldn’t judge him. He had just never really told anyone other than his family and closest friends. He trusted her, though, and she had been so open with him that he figured he could to the same.

“His name was Elijah.” Harry smiled at the memory. “Long story short - we were in love, and then we weren’t. Well, he wasn’t.”

“How old were you?”

“Not much younger than you, actually, I was only eighteen. But we broke up when we were twenty.”

“I didn’t know you were bi. You’re bi, right? Or do you just prefer not to say?” Billie hated assuming someone’s sexuality, so even if Harry liked women and men, he might not have liked any labels.

“I prefer not to say, I don’t think labels really mean anything. Of course, they’re helpful to some people but for me, I don’t really need them.” Billie smiled, for some reason, she felt a lot closer to Harry... like she knew every part of him now. Maybe she was being silly, maybe it didn’t man that much to him. But to her, it was everything. “I think we should be getting you home now, B.”

Billie groaned, “Mum’s gonna drive me up the wall.”

“You did disappear for a week.”

“I wish I just stayed at home. None of this would have happened.” Billie picked at her nails.

“Hey, what did I say? This isn’t your fault, stop blaming yourself.”

“Easier said than done, H.”

***

Billie tried closing the door quietly so no one heard her come in. It was fairly late so she prayed everyone was already in bed.

“Billie?” She heard her father called from the kitchen. Shit. She walked into the kitchen, dreading the conversation she was about to have. Billie barely spoke to her dad anymore. After coming out to her family as bisexual, he took it the worst and was a lot harsher to her than he used to be. Billie decided it was best to keep out of each other’s way. “Where have you been?”

He was so calm, it was alarming. Usually, he always shouted at her. Maybe he was so mad, he couldn’t even yell. Either way, Billie was nervous. “Dad,” she started.

“No,” he shook his head, “you scared us, you know?”

She did? “I did?”

“Jacob’s barely slept because he was hoping you’d show up in the middle of the night. Your mum and I have been thinking the worst. Anything could have happened to you.”

“I know, but I was safe.” Mostly. “I don’t know why you even care.”

“What?”

“I said I don’t know why you even care.” Billie said, louder so her father could hear. She knew she shouldn’t have said that, she should have just apologised and gone to bed. But with everything on her mind, she had to let it out.

“Of course I care, why would you think that?”

“Because it’s true! This is the longest conversation we’ve had in months because all you ever do is ignore me or have a go. I get that I’m difficult to handle but sometimes - forget it.”

Her father’s heart broke. He hadn’t realised he was treating his daughter this way. Or maybe he did. “You can talk to me, B.” He choked out.

“Ever since I told you about Willow, I feel like you hate me. I know how you and mum feel about me being bi and I get it but it’s like since that conversation, you guys just hate me. Especially you, dad.” Billie had tears in her eyes and she was forcing them to stay in. She had never voiced these thoughts to anyone, not even Harry, but she couldn’t stop herself.

“I don’t- I could never.” The older man stuttered.

“It’s okay, dad.”

“No,” he shook his head, “it isn’t. You’re my daughter, Billie. My first born. I could and will never hate you, no matter what. I’m sorry I made you feel like that. There’s no excuse, and I wish I had something more to give you than just an apology.”

Billie was crying now, so was her father. She didn’t know how much she needed this until now. She was sure they would have some difficult times, but didn’t most families? But from now on, she knew that her father cared about her and loved her. He pulled her in for a hug and they stayed like that for a while, Billie can’t remember the last time she hugged her dad.

“I love you, Billie.” Her father told her, and she looked up at him like he was crazy. He hadn’t told her he loved her in years. “All the things happening in your life are things you can’t control, and it was stupid of me to think otherwise. You can’t help who you love, or how your brain works. Nothing is your fault and I’m sorry again for making you feel the way you do.”

“Thanks, dad.” She smiled. “And I love you, too.”

“Y-you don’t have to tell me, but where were you this week?”

“I was with Willow.”

“Oh? Are you back together? Maybe we can meet her this time.” Billie could tell he was trying, but her heart ached.

“We’re not back together. I don’t think I’ll ever see her again if I’m honest.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing,” she lied before changing the subject. “Are you working tomorrow?”

“Decided to work from home. Why don’t we do something? Just the two of us, like how we used to.”

“I would love that, dad.”

Her father smiled, and so did she. She was truly happy right now. The older man announced that he was going to bed, telling Billie not to stay down there too long and to get some sleep as well. She told him she would be up soon, she just wanted a cup of tea before bed (and maybe a snack). As the kettle boiled, her phone buzzed.

Sleep well. Remember that nothing is your fault and you don’t deserve any of this. You’re amazing. H x

Billie smiled at her phone. She liked Harry more than she was willing to admit, she just wished it wasn’t all happening now. When he said things like this though, it was hard not to like him like that. You’re amazing. He thinks I’m amazing. It was beyond her that he could think this way about her, because she didn’t think she was amazing at all. She wondered if the kiss meant anything to him, because he hadn’t mentioned it. Did he like her? Did he like the kiss? Or was he just sad and lonely?

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