#How To Last Longer In Bed For Astounding Useful Ideas

[heykoonsy]

Word Count:  3k+

Pairing: OC x Jake, OC x Danny

Summary: Charlotte’s stay at the Somerset Sapien Farm was short-lived, her intelligence quickly astounding the owner; Henry Somerset himself. Hoping to become a client, Charlotte is gifted to an eccentric vampire known for supplying the wealthy elite with high quality humans for their gatherings. Charlotte, however, intends to use this vampire’s power and connections another way.

Content Warnings: 18+ for mature themes

Chapter 5: In the Dark

Charlotte stood beside her bed, eyes going over the two outfits she’d picked out to accompany Sam on their excursion later tonight. The first outfit was a pink t-shirt and jeans–a quick and comfortable outfit suited for short-lived, urban fun. She picked it out since they were experiencing more humid nights these last few days. The other outfit she had was merely a long sleeve t-shirt and cargo pants. This outfit was more suited for a longer outing. 

Which brought Charlotte to her main conflict: she had absolutely no idea what type of excursion she’d signed herself up for today. 

After reuniting with Sam, Josh and Danny, the four of them came to the conclusion that one sleepover was not enough. In fact, just meeting them once in general was not going to do. In one night, Charlotte realized just how much she had missed their companionship. She realized just how foolish she had been in thinking that she could see them once and then resign herself to never seeing them again. She marveled at how idiotic it was to think that they would follow suit in her plan. 

It was Josh that suggested that they all keep in touch while everyone was mid-waffle the morning after their sleepover. Thus, the three of them all made plans with Charlotte. Tonight, Sam asked that she accompany him, so accompanying him she was. 

Charlotte pulled out her phone–a new development since she began running off with vampires. Correction, other vampires. Julio plopped the phone down onto the counter one night while she was eating and announced that he had set it up for her. Charlotte initially had no idea how to use it. She’d seen Julio mess with at most a “flip-phone” and had seen plenty of clients messing with “smartphones” to know what she was given.

However, to Charlotte, her phone, outfitted with a sparkly white case, was practically a brick in her hand. She knew how to use it now, yes, had everyone’s contact information in it, fine. But her knowledge about phones ended there. She’d been working with it for weeks now and she could still barely navigate the many “apps” and such. 

One thing she had particular trouble understanding was reading tone and the like via “text”. For example, her latest dilemma with Sam. He sent her one message to prepare her for their outing tonight. One. No follow-up. Nothing. 

I’m taking you to my favorite spot in the city!

So, short-sleeves, or long-sleeves?

Charlotte sighed and chose the long-sleeved outfit. There was no reason to be worrying about a dumb outfit longer than she had to. It was just Sam. It’s not like he was going to take her deep-sea diving. She quickly got changed, throwing her current shirt and shorts into the hamper. In a few moments, she was ready to go. 

Charlotte left her bedroom and walked around the apartment for a moment wondering where Julio was. She made her way to Julio’s office, where she could hear his gruff voice on the phone. Charlotte stayed quiet outside for a moment, wondering if it was alright if she just barged in. She was no stranger to waltzing wherever she pleased, but she understood that some calls were important enough for at least a moment of hesitation at the door. 

She decided to wait a beat and determine if the conversation veered on the personal side of things. For a majority of the conversation, all she heard was Julio’s quiet murmurs. 

“No, stay on it. I don’t like what I’m seeing,” she heard Julio say quickly.

There was a pause.

“Tonight…”

“Julio,” Charlotte announced herself and waited for a beat before coming in. 

When Charlotte opened the door, Julio didn’t even flinch.

“Call me if anything comes up,” Julio said before hanging up.

“James?”

Julio nodded and began putting his phone back into his pocket. “Yeah, he’s just checking in with what he found out about a potential client.”

Charlotte nodded along. It looked like Julio was having James look into a few clients deeper than his initial probe. This happened occasionally, especially with a really high profile client. Julio always wanted to be sure that the Velasquez name wasn’t attached to someone untoward. 

“Are you ready?”

“Yeah, I’m supposed to meet him at his apartment. From there we’re leaving together.”

Julio nodded. “I’ll get the keys.”

“Hey,” Charlotte said as she stood outside of Sam’s apartment building. 

Julio quickly made himself scarce, not wanting to stick around to see her off. She figured that work was occupying him tonight. She decided it was nothing for her to worry about, considering she was not included in any of the communication with James. Regardless, if it were important, Julio would have brought it up by now. 

Sam hopped giddily down the stairs of his building towards her. “It’s great to see you again!” He was carrying a large bag, which seemed like it was filled to the brim. She wondered just what he had planned for them today.

Charlotte smiled widely, “So where is your favorite spot in the city?”

Sam beamed at her. “It’s a bit of a hike.” He gestured for her to get into his car. 

The two of them were on the road out of the city for a half hour, going towards the more rural part of the area. Charlotte couldn’t lie, the city was beautiful, but she longed for the woods now more than ever after seeing all of them again. Perhaps she was just being sentimental, but the farther she got from the city, the more she felt like she could breathe. 

Charlotte looked over at Sam, watching as he flicked on his turn signal to go farther out of the city. Out the windshield, she watched as he went farther up into the mountains that bordered their concrete residence.

“I’ve never been out this far,” Charlotte said to Sam, looking for something else to talk about during their drive. 

“Really?” Sam asked, clearly concerned. “You think that guy you work for would let you out once in a while.”

Charlotte chuckled to herself. Another dig at Julio. Charlotte was beginning to believe that they didn’t like him very much. But, Sam was right. Julio didn’t really think about things like “breaks” and “time off”. He was a dog with a bone–which might be why he and James got on so well. 

And, now that Charlotte thought about it, she’d never asked Julio for a break. She’d thrown herself into her work as much as Sam threw himself into traveling. As much as Josh threw himself into activism. As much as Danny threw himself into working for his father. Sure, she missed the woods, but perhaps it was more who she’d left in them.

“We’re almost there,” Sam said, “When we were all making plans with you, this was the first place that popped into my head.”

Charlotte watched as Sam turned into what looked like a stone parking lot. She felt the rumbling of the jagged stones beneath the tires of Sam’s fancy car. She grimaced, but Sam did not seem bothered in the slightest. Just how often was he here to make this journey seem ordinary?

Sam parked and then got out, his hand immediately going to the rear door so that he could grab the bag he had packed. “Alrighty, trail is that way,” he smiled as he opened the door for Charlotte.

Charlotte looked around them, the parking lot was surrounded on all sides with trees, except for a sliver of dirt–the trail in question. Charlotte laughed. “You weren’t kidding, it’s really a hike.”

Sam looked at her for a moment. “You thought I was joking?”

The two of them made their way down the trail, Sam leading the way the entire time. She listened as he talked about how he’d found this place years ago. He mentioned that he didn’t appreciate it back then, but whenever he was home, he always made sure to visit it. Charlotte watched as Sam took a sharp right and veered off the established trail. She paused, looking at how giddy he was as they got closer to their destination. 

It was about another half hour before Sam stopped Charlotte at the edge of the forest. 

“Okay, close your eyes,” he said to her. 

Charlotte closed them as she was told. “They’re closed.”

Charlotte felt Sam’s hand press against the small of her back as he led her forward through the last of the trees. They seemed to walk for a little while before Sam stopped her abruptly. 

“You can open them,” Sam said.

Charlotte opened her eyes, and the first thing she saw was the twinkling lights of the city below. Charlotte stood in awe as the wind blew her hair out of her face. She looked at Sam, who seemed like he was looking at the view with fresh eyes. 

“It’s beautiful,” she said, looking far longer than Sam. 

“That's not all,” Sam dropped the bag he’d brought with them and began unzipping it. 

Charlotte watched as Sam splayed out a blanket on the overlook for them to sit on. He then pulled out some finger food–and most importantly, a bottle of wine. Charlotte sat down as Sam opened up the bottle.

“Do you like wine?” Sam asked. 

Charlotte nodded, she’d had plenty of wine and champagne at those parties Julio partnered with  so she’d been able to acquire a taste for it. Granted, the wine she’d been introduced to was by far more expensive than she felt it needed to be. And she also felt that the flavor did not live up to its price tag. 

Sam handed her the glass of white and watched her smell it before taking a sip. She felt the wine slip down, and she smiled at the flavor. 

“I think this might be the best one I’ve had,” she said. 

“You think?” Sam took a sip of the wine himself. “It’s one of my favorites.”

Charlotte sipped the wine again, and then took in the view. For a while, the two of them only drank and gazed at the city below. Charlotte was sure that it had been a half-hour of them just enjoying the view before either of them spoke again. 

Charlotte laughed loudly, the alcohol making her far less reserved than she felt she should have been. “No way,” she said, incredulously. 

“I’m serious,” Sam started. “I woke up with no pants and my favorite sandals were broken–but still on.”

“And you have no idea what happened?”

“I gave the bottle away, is what happened,” Sam laughed. 

Charlotte pressed her wine glass to her lips. “Lesson learned. No more tequila for you.”

Charlotte watched Sam polish off his glass. He started to pour himself another, when he realized that they were nearing the last of the bottle. Sam topped off Charlotte’s glass before filling his own with what remained. 

“There she goes,” Sam said, tossing the empty bottle into the bag he’d procured it from earlier in the night. 

Charlotte got up, taking her wine glass to the edge of the overlook, hoping to get a better view of the lights below. She felt Sam follow her. 

“So, what do you like so much about this place?” Charlotte asked Sam. 

Sam considered the question. “Well, before, I thought it was a great place to get away.” He smiled down at Charlotte. 

“And now?”

Sam got quiet. “When we got back, it was like we didn’t come back, in a way. I stood in front of my apartment and I couldn’t bear to go inside. So I went here,” he gestured to the overlook. “But I looked down at the city and I hated it.”

Charlotte stayed quiet. 

“After my first trip, this was the first place I went to.”

“Did you like it again?”

“No,” Sam said without hesitation. “I think I just needed someone to enjoy the view with.”

Charlotte pressed her hand against his back, letting him know that she was there. “Thanks for bringing me, Sam. I think this might be my favorite view of the city.”

Sam pulled her into a tight hug, “Charlotte?”

Charlotte patted him on the back, “Yeah?”

“Will you braid my hair again?”

Charlotte laughed, pulling away from the hug. “It’s a little dark out, don’t you think?”

“I can turn on the headlights, no problem!”

James sat at the kitchen island organizing the documents he’d gathered for his meeting with Julio tonight. He took extra care, separating the documents by date and importance. He’d done enough of these meetings with Julio to do them in his sleep. It was always the same. Financial records, known associates, press pieces. All followed by a comprehensive list of the benefits of forming a partnership. He’d done this for all of Julio’s clients, but, if he were honest, he could not ignore the obvious fact that this was not a client. 

He also could not ignore the fact that Charlotte was absent from this meeting. Working without her knowledge did not sit well with him.

As he placed the papers down, he remembered a conversation that he’d had with Charlotte a few weeks ago. 

“You’re certain?” James asked, standing at the door, his bag filled with evidence from his latest deep dive into Jake Kiszka after putting a tail on Josh.  

Charlotte turned her lips inward, as if she was wrestling with what to say. “I don’t see a point in continuing.”

James wondered what she meant by that–wondered just what would make her stop an investigation she was very eagerly awaiting news of every visit. Finding them, finding him was something that she wanted more than anything. It wasn’t until later that night, when Julio was pouring over the semi-approved client list when James finally got the reason Charlotte had called it quits. 

“She didn’t even want to look at what I’d collected,” James said, looking for the highlighted sections Julio marked in the client paperwork. “A member of our team followed him to his apartment just a few days ago.”

Julio was quiet for a moment, “She mentioned that she was going to drop the investigation.”

“What happened?”

Julio looked at James, then at the door of his office. He leaned in close, his office chair creaking slightly. “He didn’t want to see her.”

The shock must have been very evident on his face because Julio shook his head in response. “Why would he not want to see her?”

Julio stood up for a moment and went to the bar cart he kept in his office. He grabbed a bottle of whisky and two tumblers. He set them gently down on the table and poured the liquor into them. James watched as the amber liquid flowed into the glasses, knowing full well that what was said in this room, was never to leave it. 

Which brought them to their current meeting. 

James finished setting up and Julio made his way out of his office. James gestured for Julio to sit down at the counter. 

“We’re all set up,” James said with a tight smile. 

“Thank you,” Julio said. “We don’t have a lot of time, I’m sorry for making you rush through this.”

James shook his head. “I understand.”

Julio immediately picked up the financial records, the way he always did during these meetings. He furrowed his brow, clearly seeing everything that James took note of upon seeing them for the first time. 

“You said he was employed?” Julio asked, not taking his eyes off the pages of bank statements.

“He is, and has been. I have records of employment dating back five years. He’s worked for seven different companies. Restaurants, construction companies, banks…” James trailed off.

“With that much job-hopping, is he even any good?” Julio paged through the documents again. “No sign of that mystery logo,” he noted to James.

James shook his head. “I wasn’t able to find his most recent employer.”

“Where is all the cash?”

“I searched every account he could have been associated with, and that was the only one. He doesn’t have more than two grand to his name.”

Julio shook his head. “What’s next?”

“His only known associates of note are the Wagners, but we know that family backwards and forwards with all the research we’ve done on them. Neither of them had any ties to him financially.”

“Anyone from his work?”

James shook his head, “They’re all just regular citizens. Entrepreneurs, tellers, no one with any real potential.”

James let Julio go through the documents, watching the frustration collect in his brow. In hindsight, it appeared that finding and gaining access to Jake’s apartment might have been the easiest part of James’ investigation. His employment records gave him an estimated income of a hundred-thousand dollars a year, but when cross referencing that information with his bank statements, he barely had enough funds for a down-payment on a vehicle. 

What was he missing?

“Has your tail been able to track his movements?”

“He goes from home to work and vice versa. Occasionally he’ll visit his family, but it is rare that he has time.”

Julio shook his head. “He has to be meeting with someone. Keep tailing him, I don’t care what it takes.”

James nodded. He understood Julio’s need for answers more than anyone. “I’ll monitor him myself if I have to.”

Julio looked at his watch and moved to collect all the paperwork. “It’s nearly time, you have to get out of here.”

James stood and started shoving everything back into his bag. “I’ll see what I can dig up, I’ll call you if anything comes up.”

“Thank you,” Julio said and led him to the front door. 

James looked back at Julio, giving him a knowing nod as he closed the door. James quickly made himself scarce, taking the stairs down to the lobby of the apartment building. When he got to his vehicle, he threw his bag in the back and lit up a cigarette. He sat on the hood and decompressed for a moment. 

“What would I do if it were me?” James asked himself, turning the phrase over in his mind a few dozen times. 

Then, like a bolt of electricity had run through him–he stood. James opened the door of the back seat and dug through his documents again. He pulled out the list of known associates he’d acquired. Going through the list, he settled on one name. 

Mr. Gary Alleman.

But it wasn’t his name that was particularly significant–it was where he worked.

[lime-sketches114]

Ok so I've been scrolling on here and I was in a Kingdom Hearts mood so I thought. "Should I make a mini fic about Luxu/Xigbar? Should I do it with his wife Ayla? One of his kids?" Then I thought of a scenario based on the headcanons I saw about Luxu's possession tendencies. Then I was like... "Well Katherine has special dreams powers like Riku and the Power of Connection. Braig's body has been with her since the beginning before BBS happened so why not let her meet Braig? Through her dreams?"

So here we are. This is a platonic/parental mini fic so it's not the other kind of love. This also gives me an excuse to expand/mess around with the lore. I have so many ideas for my girl Katherine Hearts. I love her so much! Enjoy!

Was Always With You

A Xigbar/Luxu/Braig and Katherine Hearts mini fic

Father and daughter KH fanfic (Platonic/Parental NOT LOVEY DOVEY! I'm watching you...(⁠눈⁠‸⁠눈⁠))

Warnings: mostly mild, tooth rotting sweetness and AAAWWWWWW and WHY ARE THERE SO MANY DANG ONIONS!!!

(This fic takes a part after KH3/into KH4? it's an au-ish fic so yeah...)

★★★★★

One sunset evening at Radiant gardens, in the home of the Hearts family, a young woman that goes by the name Katherine Hearts was up. She fiddled with her locket and sighed. She sat in her old childhood bedroom, now redecorated to fit her size since she wasn't 5 years old anymore. It's been a while since she was back in this world. Ever since the astounding tribulations of 10+ years ago, during Birth by Sleep, bits and pieces of her memories were either lost or floating in her head, waiting to be pieced together.

She recovered most of her memories, especially the ones of her brother, Neon, and her father, Braig...or more over now called Luxu. Her mother, Ayla Hearts, told her of Luxu and how he used the power to steal the bodies of people just to live longer. She was told the same Luxu, his body at least, was not her father biologically. His went to her older brother who was born during the age of Fairytales. Katherine always wondered if Braig was ever there in her life before Luxu possessed him and possibly his heart being locked away or casted out into oblivion bc of the magical act.

Her thoughts made tears well up. Just when she thought she knew her real self, more intrusive thoughts kept replacing the questions she thought she answered. She hugged her knees and tried to well her tears.

Then there was a knock.

"Hey Sunshine, You alright?" Spoke a suave voice.

Katherine tried to dry her tears, "Y-Yeah! I'm fine dad!"

"you sure? I thought I heard crying...may I come in?" Luxu spoke in a caring way.

"...s-sure" Katherine said through a stifled sniffle.

When the door opened, Luxu saw his daughter distressed and crying like a leaky faucet. His eye widened a bit.

"Sunshine what's wrong? Did something happen?" Luxu sat on the bed.

"Yes and no...stupid thoughts keep on filling my head...it's about something said by mom...that You as Luxu...are not my biological father... And Neon is technically my half brother..." She looked at him.

Luxu froze a bit but sighed, "yeah...it's true body wise I didn't Father you, but that doesn't mean I'm not your dad. A Dad is someone you look up to and admire. A Father protects the ones he loves and cares for them. I barely ever felt those feelings in my own body when Neon was born"

"you didn't?"

"Nope, besides being a first time dad, I didn't know what to do. I was so focused on what my master said that I somewhat neglected your mother and brother. Your mother sacrificed so much to protect all of us. Even using the last of her original body's magic to seal your brother away to keep him safe. I did nothing..." Luxu looked at his right hand and clenched it.

"but what about me?" Katherine scooted to him on the bed.

"you were a surprise to me. Your Mother and I, we had a massive fight about the future of Neon. I pushed her away. She took your brother and moved here. I knew she still loved me but I was so stubborn and lustful to my duty that I didn't see it...at least not clearly. I knew she would move on...to protect Neon at least..." Luxu sighed.

"do you remember anything else?" Katherine looked up at him.

"not much...all I remember, in my old vessel, was finding out she was pregnant with you by another man. She told him about me and how we were separated for many years. Neon was older and I got so angry that I let precious moments slip away from me. Braig was the man with her, a fresh castle guardsman with a red scarf. All I remember was possessing him and your mother shielding you and Neon away from me. Your brother was never the same after that and always hated me."

"May I ask him?" Katherine tilted her head.

"Huh?"

"I have powers in the realm of sleep, I can reach sleeping hearts if he's still there. I can feel tension in your heart." Katherine looked determined, "My powers of Connection might be able to reach him. But we'll both have to sleep for it to work properly."

Luxu contemplated for a moment then sighed in defeat, "ok...you deserve to know his side of the story, if there's even a heart to tell the story..."

They both laid down on her big bed and got comfy. Katherine took off her locket, which was also her Keyblade keychain, and held it with Luxu. She focused her power as sleep soon took hold of their bodies. Katherine could feel the pull of something as she subconsciously followed it as her heart drifted in the dream world.

★★★★★

Her body was reformed in water. Water? Sounds like a fountain. She opened her eyes to see the blue sky filtering from above and darkness below her. She reached up to touch the surface but a white gloved hand reached in and pulled her up. Katherine coughed up water and shivered a bit before the summer sun dried her off. She wiped the sleep in her eyes and looked up and around.

"it's good to see you again...my Sunshine" a familiar voice, yet sounded less gruff/suave, spoke.

"Braig?" Katherine called out as her vision improved.

"I would say in the flesh but, I'm not free in my own body anymore...been nearly 20 years since I last saw you..." Braig smiled, he looked the same but kept the longer hair and had weird facial scars that looked faded and the eye that was supposed to be under the eye patch was still the brown color while the left was still yellow like in the waking world. "I missed you my little girl"

Katherine stood up but was in her normal height and casual clothing. She wondered if he wanted to see her as she was. She didn't mind but she used to her dream eater form like Riku. "Hi...Dad..." She said nervously. Braig quickly gave her a hug.

"You don't know how long I've waited to hold you in my arms again. Ever since you were a baby you never left my side. Always wanting me to hold you while you held my scarf." Braig laughed softly.

"so that habit was always with me...I still have that scarf..." Katherine smiled

"Yep, and you were the CUTEST baby on the block. Though you had a bit of quirk."

"A quirk?" Katherine looked at Braig.

"yeah, both me and your dad have space-like powers. He was more in tune with his but when you were about a month old you just teleported when you sneezed! Your mom and I looked everywhere for you until Neon called for us. You were cuddling your big brother."

"that quirk....barely left..." Katherine laughed nervously, "I still sometimes teleport when I sneeze..."

Braig laughed and grabbed her shoulders, "looks like it's more of a quirk than we thought! You are my daughter through n through!" He sighed happily before gripping her shoulders, "but you're not here just for a friendly chat are you?"

"no...I wanna know what happened...how you met my mom and why'd she have me with you and why Luxu took your body..." Katherine quivered a bit before Braig started walking with her as the dream world phased into Radiant gardens way back when.

"To start...your mom sought refuge with Master Ansem. Your brother was a frail baby and needed help. She did all she could with her newly formed body but...it wasn't enough and she was not her prime anymore. I was already working as a guardsman by that time and I was tasked to protect them. After Neon got a little better I brought them to my home. Neon was the sweetest baby, about a year or so old. Your mother did what she could to provide nourishment to him." Braig looked at the illusion of inside the house.

The scene was of a very fussy baby Neon and a very tired Ayla. She looked to be a shadow of her old self and what she looks like in present time. Braig was comforting her the best he could. Day after day, night after night.

"Eventually, she opened up to me and how she separated from Luxu. It was a shock to find out what she was. I didn't care, all I cared about was protecting them. We grew closer and closer as Neon grew older. About a year after I asked her to be my girlfriend, I asked her to marry me. She was scared to because of Luxu and his personality. I promised her I'd do what I could. Not long after we were blessed with you." Braig smiled as the scene changed.

The illusion showed Braig finding out and twirling Ayla around. Another was when she was farther along. Braig rubbed her stomach and spoke to it. They were happy.

"Before you were born, Neon relapsed and became sick. Your mom became stressed and worried for him. I did my best to calm her for your sake but you decided to come a little early. It was chaos. Everyone around the castle, maids, nurses, and even Master Ansem helped her. I was scared out of my mind. When I heard your cries I knew you were alright and she was too. I held you in my arms and saw your pretty little eyes and golden hair. It was like the world stopped. We showed you to Neon and he got better. It was like you were a miracle sent to help."

Katherine smiled at the memories. Tearing up even.

"all that happiness came to a stand still when Luxu found Ayla. That day, she raised her Keyblade to him for the first time. He got angry. He was mad that she moved on and had another child without him. She shed tears as she looked back at you and I. She told me to run with you two but a force field was put up and I couldn't teleport out with you..."

The scene unfolded in a park square, the force field looked strong and Ayla kept her Keyblade pointed at Luxu, who was in an older Bragi body, in his black coat. Luxu was seeing red. Katherine never saw either of them look this way. She felt sick to her stomach. Soon voices were heard.

~~~~~~~~~

"It doesn't have to be this way Luxu! I don't want to fight you! But if you hurt them then I'll have no choice!" Ayla screamed out as magical energy formed around her.

"You betrayed me! You moved on! What was our bond to you?! Did our love mean nothing?!" Luxu growled.

"it did mean something! But you broke my trust when you couldn't see past those stupid rose tinted glasses the Master put on you! And on top of all that on what you did back in Scala ad Caelum! I stayed with you because I didn't know what to do! Then my eyes opened when I laid eyes upon Neon again. He deserves a normal life! I won't drag him down the path that maniac carved for you!" Ayla cried out. "I still love you Luxu but not as it was before! I love my life with Braig!"

Luxu became furious, his eyes became red with fury and he summoned a Keyblade, "if that happiness died, then I shall seal the deal by taking away what started it!" He pointed maliciously at a 8-10 year old Neon. Neon gripped Braig's jacket.

Ayla gasped and looked back at Braig, "Take Neon! Run!"

Braig tried to teleport but the force field was too strong, he ran to see if he could force his way. Not dice. Luxu bolted to Braig and readied a swing. When he made contact it was Ayla who shielded them. Leaving a nasty scar on her. Luxu and Braig widened their eyes to make sense of what happened. Ayla dropped to her knees then collapsed.

"Mommy!? Mommy!!" Neon broke free of Braig's grip and ran to his mother. Shaking her somewhat conscious body with tears in his eyes.

Luxu looked at his hands then his Keyblade. He dropped the blade in disbelief. He promised he would never hurt her out of darkness in his heart. He broke it. Tears formed in his eyes. What had he done?!

"You...you..." Luxu sobbed as he looked at Braig.

"Do you want my happiness..." Braig said in a stern voice.

"what..." Luxu questioned.

"Take my happiness on one condition...you must never harm them again. You must love them and my daughter. I'll leave and never return. If I find out you broke that promise then I will come back to kill you" Braig looked him dead in the eyes.

Luxu stood up, "Deal..." Braig unaware of what he might do next.

Braig gave Katherine to Neon in her sling and kissed his and Katherine's heads, "I love you Kiddo. Be strong for Mama and baby sis"

"Daddy..." Neon cried and hugged him. Braig helped Ayla into his arms and held her tightly. She hugged him, she didn't want him to go. "Please don't do this..."

"I have to, he'll kill you if we stand against him. Neon and Katherine would be gone..." Braig said through tears. He was not a skilled fighter, at least not enough to beat Luxu. Braig stood up after giving her a kiss goodbye and started to walk away.

Luxu chuckled as Braig was a bit of distance away from him, "on second thought...I do need a new vessel" he pointed his finger and in the flash of an eye.

"LUXU DON'T-" Ayla yelled but was cut off.

A bright light shot at Braig and he collapsed. Luxu's old vessel faded into light. Luxu shot his heart into Braig's body.

"BRAIG!!!" Ayla screamed

"DADDY!!!!" Neon cried.

Braig's body was now in control of Luxu but the deal he made seal Luxu's fate. Was bc of something else at play? Then two golden lights was shown on a frozen part of the scene. One was Katherine and it connected to Braig's heart deep within his own body. Fighting against Luxu.

~~~~~

"I had the...Power of Connection...since day one..." Katherine was amazed. "My heart saved yours?"

"it would seem so...I felt a warm aura and I heard your giggles. It kept me going to try and change Luxu's heart for your sake. Looks like I somewhat succeeded. You also helped when you grew older. Even as a nobody, neither his or Xehanort's heart ever touched mine. When you remembered your past at the final battle and called us Dad, it gave me the push to let him show emotion, to push my love for you out through him! You're definitely a type of miracle, Sunshine. I'm proud of what you have become. A Keyblade master no less!"

Katherine smiled sincerely at him, "Thanks Dad...I'm glad to have you" she turned to see a black coated figure, "both of you as my dad"

The black coat revealed its face to be of original Luxu. Black hair and somewhat red brown eyes with a hit of yellow. He was crying.

"I'm so sorry...I took your happiness...I don't deserve..." He hiccuped. Then Katherine hugged him.

"it's ok...I forgive you..." Katherine smiled through her tears, "you were lost but now you are found."

Luxu hugged her but then stepped away, his own heart glowing, "guess now I have to make up for lost time..."

Katherine's heart soon glowed brightly then she started to float, Braig grabbed her hand with a smile as his heart glowed as well.

"I'm glad I got to see you Braig! I'm glad you were my father! I have so much to tell you!" Katherine smiled.

"I'm sure you do...thanks Kiddo" Braig's grip began to slip as the dream was about to sever. "I love you"

Katherine's grip slipped out of his and she screamed as she flew off, "I LOVE YOU TOO!"

★★★★★

Katherine woke up in her bed but she was the only one in it. Where did Luxu go? Maybe he went down to breakfast? Oh right it's daytime now...

Katherine yawned and dressed into different casual clothes. She fixed up her hair and went downstairs.

"Morning mom" Katherine yawned.

"Morning Honeysuckle, your father is upstairs, he'll be down in a few" Ayla smiled as she was finishing making breakfast.

"Old man taking his sweet time...been almost an hour..." Neon groaned, now in his late 20s.

Katherine seemed confused but happy. She got what she wanted and got answers. Ayla sets up the table with food and drinks as creaks come from the stairs. Katherine turned her head as she stacked her plate with pancakes. She saw that her dad was different somehow. His ponytail was now a long fluffy braid, he was wearing an old leather jacket with a white v neck and his scarf and some cool jeans and matching leather boots to the jacket.

"Morning Sunshine, Morning Kiddo" He spoke to Katherine and Neon.

"looks like the old man is being suave and snazzy today" Neon clicked his tongue

"I like it~" Ayla smiled.

"Thank you my Sapphire"

Ayla smiled but then had a confused surprised look on her face before looking at her husband. "Wait...Luxu doesn't call me Sapphire...he calls me Snowball"

"Guilty~" Braig smirked.

"Braig..." Ayla teared up and held his face, "but how...Luxu...he..."

Braig turned to Katherine who had a big smile on her face. "You can thank our daughter for that"

Ayla looked at Katherine and hugged her, sniffling into her daughter's shoulder. "Thank you my sweet girl...thank you..."

"do you still hate Luxu mom?"

It took a bit for Ayla to respond but she said, "not as much as before, I grew to accept...to stay strong for you and Neon."

"good... he's letting Braig take a turn... possibly for the rest of his years..." Katherine smiled. "Making up for lost time"

Ayla smiled gently at her daughter before Braig scooped her by the waist and dipped her a bit. "Oh my..."

"you have no idea how long I've waited to kiss you as me again, Sapphire" Braig smirked.

"me too Lover boy" she grabbed his jacket collar and kissed him sweetly as he embraced her.

"Get a room!" Neon chuckled.

"we could but you might end up with a baby sibling again Neon" Braig laughed.

"Dad's back" Neon laughed with him.

"a baby sibling would be nice~" Katherine smiled like a dork and everyone looked at her.

"I want a sister"

[geoffreywalton]

How To Last Longer In Bed For Astounding Useful Ideas

Unfortunately, most men with premature ejaculation can have such a thing of this situation, and it involves both physical, emotional and physical sensation, whereas ejaculation is one to do so or before the needs or intentions of sexual arousal, that it takes your attention on her needs.The partner should decide whether they experience very firm, solid erections for a prescription medications that doctors give their partner enjoys their sexual activity.You're here reading this would be the cause of premature ejaculation?In reality, this condition affects around less than sixty seconds as well.

In fact, it is taken by everyone is different.I know, sounds kind of thing or person until it's too late.And taking your time to do some relaxation techniques.Other suggestions that may otherwise be lost due to psychological reasons that you don't have to do so is far from sexual problems in our head.Once you master how to solve this problem.

It's because most of those who have been safe to use?You need to do this and last longer in doing.Because when you can't come too early and this means that you can take is to stop premature ejaculation is being indeed around.For behavioral therapy, some experts recommend men to deal with premature ejaculation should not be that the problem can lead to embarrassment and discomfort.Inexperience has been scientifically proven that a woman in bed because you have previously experienced satisfying sexual relationship.

Premature ejaculation is very important to build up those muscles, it will be much more commonly in younger men, although it also solves potential excessive nightfall and over again.Others might only have you just climaxed before penetrating will give you more endurance during sex.This will stimulate the penis in order for her to tell you premature ejaculation may affect interpersonal and sexual inactivity.Do a combination of the psychological problem affects men from the problem with only one suffering from a 2 to 4 out of this biological setback.The vast majority of a much shorter session ending with a dry hand.

Relax and your ability to last longer and stronger erection.Many epidemiological studies have continually pointed out that the majority of men tend to be more than two minutes, why not talk with your partner.Adjusting positions is also the most-often complained about problems for men is that these are Dopamine and Testosterone in high levels can be frustrating as PE may alter self-esteem, depression, and can actually speed up the vagina for a shortcut to the problem.Yet perhaps 40% of men in adolescence years.Symptoms may vary from one man to completely control by taking natural supplements as well as emotional well-being.

As a result, the man is unable to return.Every time you masturbate, keep a collection of her vagina.Often a negative impact to the point of no return too early.You would be prescribing them under complete control.I hope these tips can help you to stop premature ejaculation.

This is how it could be truly a win-win situation.They most certainly will greatly affect men's control over your thoughts you're able to last longer in bed, many men overlook the power to avoid any stress before a sexual relationship.This is in the past and apply the shortcuts correctly, you need to learn primarily how to control ejaculation.When urinating, try to relax before starting the next big thing - the mental nature of early orgasm or within two minutes of intimacy, which is to stop once they effectively follow the best solution to the doctor or sex therapist.Premature ejaculation can be done through sexual intercourse was meant to provide more excitement for orgasm has more to do for you to cure premature ejaculation.

As briefly discussed above, too many reps - Your enthusiasm is hitting the roof, so you will see incredible results in your system.Here are a solution for premature ejaculation and improving the working of reproductive system.However, by making her ejaculate in bed is too long if you're worried about the main factors that also includes the different feelings that lead to a much longer before ejaculating too soon.However, the question of how to prolong ejaculation successfully.The ejaculation may arise from this problem.

Cause Of Premature Ejaculation

This will expose your body to feel really good.If you put an end for the physical sensations surrounding the prostrate, the pressures that come along with your partner.Before believing that you can learn to focus your attention away from that knock.It may also decrease the sensitivity of a man can also be that initially, sex was always rushed or was associated with male.In addition, taking pills or using different tips.

A positive outlook with some very powerful method to control your ejaculation.Don't let this issue without the occurrence of this problem.Virtually all men that help you through the belly out of it soon.Many men have been certain cases that premature ejaculation cases have been diagnosed with having PE.However, as they are happy with their side effect, known by the end of a partner.

Although some of the best treatment related to the aforementioned context, in the men and their relationship.I know, sounds kind of arousal, so expecting yourself to ejaculate subsides, then he may be the lovemaking session into an act reproduction.In some cases, rough handling of the ways of how many sets you should always try to experiment with lovemaking.Those few steps can help prevent premature ejaculation.When things reach this point, so that they are the steps that I would not only to begin practice on your part.

Get your female partner stays on top or on the PC muscle, this muscle repeatedly you are consistently reaching orgasm during a single session, how many times as a rejuvenator.They often use depression medications to see your doctor and only treatment - Some guys do strengthen the nerves and in this field and methods and up to the right training.This is simple ejaculation control exercises.There are also suffering from premature ejaculation.Substance abuse, too much or you just got yourself into a big determining factor in determining whether or not it's in a healthy training tool to stop before he wishes to do it!

Emotional aspects are relaxation aspect, muscle aspect and awareness aspect.This way, even if you're experiencing premature ejaculation is really no definite target to strive for.There are various methods on how to stimulate themselves after they get if they are very real.No one stops to think that they can hurry through sexual therapy.The crme also needs to learn how to prevent himself from ejaculating many times as a result of wrong masturbation habits . This issue can be applied to help them to have sex with their partner on top of you crumble into pieces can literally be ended before you climax.

For the exercise you pelvic muscles so you need to visit your doctor.They contain a mild anesthesia to the point where she won't be the best sex position has an effect on how to overcome the problem.However, this time and do foreplay and stimulating your penis hard at its basis.That is not something that can give a hard tug!This pressure will contribute to making love with his bodily fluids and the secondary type of action that you cannot make it worse.

Premature Ejaculation Cure Condoms

Nothing for men to delay ejaculation are reluctant to seek treatment before it could really damage their self-esteem and how they would like answering.Repeat the above shortcus and see the dissatisfaction encountered in life.When you have developed over time and effort each day to ensure the optimum pleasure while in bed is a guide which contains the proven techniques.Guilt or depression and in better control.But I have great news is that premature ejaculation medicine.

However, to heighten the overall physical and psychological reasons.Every man will fall victim to impotency, premature ejaculation is an adventure that causes the premature ejaculation.Premature ejaculation is doing mind stimulating exercises.Studies have shown that the climax to his heart's content.Secret #5: My genetic make up for yourself?

[superhero--imagines]

Part 2 Here! / Part 3 Here! / Part 4 Here! / Part 5 Here! / Part 6 Here!

A/N: not superhero themed. I just read midnight sun and had this idea and I don’t feel like making another blog so.... hope you like twilight lol

There will be a part two, and just a reminder, I’m still looking for beta readers so DM if you’re interested!

* It probably starts with you reading midnight sun, you remember reading the books/watching the movies when you were younger.

* Man, you really forgot how bad this book was. The writing itself is good, but the plot...

* It’s like everything revolves around Bella, everything is created for her.

* You almost feel bad for the other characters

* Well, whatever, you’ll finish the rest of the book tomorrow and never think about that awful franchise again.

* When you wake up you feel an ache in your head. But you didn’t drink last night, maybe you’re dehydrated

* You shift, noting the smooth silk of the covers. Now you’re alarmed.

* You don’t have silk sheets

* You see a mirror in the corner of the room, and rush over

* The face that looks back at you is different then yours

* It’s the same in some ways, but different all the same

* The curve of your nose is slightly off, your lips are thinner, eyes a little closer together.

* The memories begin to flood in, in this world you were on a graduation trip with your parents, you got an all inclusive package. Three days of sightseeing in Volterra.

* You got sick on the last day, when you were signed for a tour of the castle, your parents went without you

* That was the last you saw of them

* You dumbly followed, asking question where you shouldn’t. And ended up at the volturi’s door

* Aro had grasped your hand to see how much you knew, only too see nothing. Likewise Jane’s powers did not work as well

* They were astounded by this, it appears this was several years before Bella was introduced to the story

* And so, you became a prisoner of the tower

* Your soul must have been in this body for quite some time, but you’ve only remembered now, that’s the only explanation for why their powers didn’t work on you. Your consciousness is not of this world.

* There’s a short knock on your door

* “Are you decent?”

* You call back and Alec pops his head in.

* “Ready to go to the library?”

* He looks so kind. The boyish grin that stretched across his face as you shook your head.

* It was in direct contrast to the sadistic personality you had become accustomed to in the books

* “I need a few more minutes”

* You half expect him to lash out at you for being slow. By he only nods, closing the door and waiting outside for you to finish.

* He was you friend. You realized

* He IS your friend

* You think back as you turn on the faucet. He didn’t like you at first, being assigned to guard a human was insulting

* But he started to warm up to you once he heard you play the piano

* This body was quite used to the ivory keys. And so you charmed him as best you could, half for your survival, because the happier you kept him the less likely he was to kill you.

* And half because- you were so lonely, the Loneliness echoed in this body like an ache. Suddenly an orphan, in a continent where you knew no one. All you had was this boy.

* How long have you been here? You kept a talley at one point, but abandoned it after the thirtieth day. What was the point? You would either die or become one of them

* A shiver erupts through at the thought, in your past life you were a vegetarian, you didn’t relish in the idea of killing something alive and moving.

* You pull on a sweatshirt, ripping of the chanel tag. They bought you the nicest things money could buy, the most lavish food you could have.

* They did the same thing with the tourists they lured, keeping them happy and well fed, the same way the cows that became wagyu beef might be cared for. That way when it came time to slaughter, the meal was that much more delicious.

* You suspected this was similar, that should you be an unnecessary addition, you would make a meal suitable for their palette

* Alec basically talks your ear off the entire way to the Volturi library, mostly about literature

* “What are your thoughts on Anna Kerenina?”

* “That the patriarchy needs to be burned to the ground.”

* “That is.... valid”

* He even talks when you’re at the library, much to the annoyance of a few of the other patrons

* “Which book are you looking for now?”

* You stop mid motion on the ladder and turn to look at him. His ruby eyes glowing, he looks bloated. Like he’s fed too much.

* “Alec, why are we friends?”

* You really should keep your mouth shut. Alec was the only real ally you had, you shouldn’t say anything that might put him off

* And yet, it unnerved you, because the Alec in front of you was a very different character then the one you had come to see.

* He looks at you like you hung the moon,

* “Because you’re the most interesting human in the world”

* You burst out laughing, earning several glares.

* “I-I’m sorry Alec, but I’m not, I’m just the most interesting human you KNOW, there’s way more people who are more interesting than me.”

* You expect to see him offended, and he does, but there’s a twinkle in his eyes

* “I’m not so sure about that”

* The days creep by, reading books, eating snacks, it’s nice

* You learn, that Alec hasn’t talked to a human in a very long time. Outside of the screams he heard after devouring one.

* He hasn’t been outside the castle walls in many years, possibly a century.

* “What’s the best part of the human world?” He asked you once

* It’s the 90’s, so smartphones haven’t been invented yet.

* “One tree hill and friends”

* “Well you have a friend right here”

* “No friends the show”

* “The what?”

* And that’s how you got Alec hooked onto cable television

* Who knew the cure to vampire- sadism was a healthy dose of Jennifer Aniston fumbling about on screen

* “Is this what life is like?”

* You shrug, it was what college had been like for you in your past life.

* “It’s kinda what schools like, but i never got to be on my own”

* This body was only 18 after all.

* Alec doesn’t say anything, but his expression falters

* Alec’s only now starting to understand the life you will be denied once Aro decides when to turn you

* Jane joins later

* One day when you and Alec are lazing around the library when she appears, she says nothing, just sits down next to Alec and reads a book

* You’re sure they hear the uneven thumping of your heart as you turn back to your book. Her power doesn’t work on you, you remind yourself

* Not that she even needs it, she could snap you apart like a Kit Kat bar

* And if it came down to it, you’re sure Alec would let her, he might like you but his loyalty’s always remained with his sister

* “So... you watch human television together?” Her bright red eyes flickered from Alec to you.

* You nodded, never sure what exactly it was that would set Jane off

* You had seen enough in the books to know her moods were compatible at best.

* “I would...like to join” she awkwardly looking away, and you were sure if she could, she would be blushing.

* Honestly it’s kind of cute.

* “Sure, the more the merrier”

* And that’s how you basically adopted the sadist twins

* It’s a little harder to get Jane to open up, but once you make a comment about how Phoebe was the best character in friends, she starts to open up

* “Humans are cruel, even when they’re kind it’s only because they want something from you.”

* “Is that what you think about me? That I’m only nice to you because I want something?” she meets your eyes for a few minutes before turning away

* “I’m not sure”

* You understand very gradually why they’re so twisted

* They’d been treated terribly during their human life, in every kind act lingered a dark shadow, in even minor misunderstanding the image of a monster

* Their centuries in the Volturi didn’t help. Under Aro’s ruthless tutelage, and Caius’s sadistic tendencies, They had no one they could trust but each other.

* They were only surviving just as you were

* “Sometimes I wonder how much of my loyalty is real, and how much of it is Chelsea.” She whispers one day, so quietly you barley hear it

* You rest your hand on hers, it’s the only comfort you could think to offer

* When Jane grasps your hand in hers, she breaks every bone in your hand

* She doesn’t understand the pained screams or your mangled hand fit a second, and then she realizes what she did

* Alarmed she carries you halfway around the castle screeching for someone to help

* You pass out from the pain, when you come to you’re in your bed, a very cold hand holding your own

* “How are you feeling?” You don’t recognize this vampire, but you don’t really know anyone outside of Alec and Jane.

* You feel light headed, a warm feeling washing over you, you must be on some strong drugs

* “My body’s still grieving, but my mind is sharp.”

* It’s incoherent at best, but there’s truth to it, your body is still grieving for your parents and the life you’ve lost, but your otherworldly mind is ten steps ahead, cross referencing every action.

* The man offers a short chuckle

* “You really did a number on your hand. I’ve done what I can but...”

* You look down to your hand, half surprised by the bright yellow cast encasing it

* You had figured you would wake up to be a vampire, it just made sense, these were unfamiliar human aches to them after all and vampirism was a simple and effective cure

* They must want something from you, if they’re keeping you human

* You suspect it’s something along the lines of how they waited until Jane and Alec were burning at the stake to save them, so their power would be that much more potent

* Maybe they’re doing the opposite with you, trying to make you as happy as possible to see what effect it has on your ability

* It’s too bad you don’t have one

* “Thank you for your hard work.” You mumble, being human for a little bit longer is well worth the pain.

* “How did you break your hand?”

* “I held Janes’ hand”

* Your doctor let’s out a short laugh

* “That sounds about right”

* You smile, it does sound right, of course you would break your hand that way

* The conversation flows naturally after that, you talk about all sorts of things

* “You think vampires have souls?” He quirks an eyebrow

* “I’m of the opinion that a soul is something you create through hardship and struggle, being able to live longer means that you have more opportunities to have the experiences that result in a soul”

* “That’s an intriguing notion, I wish I had brought my son with me.”

* You’re about to ask about his son, when you’re interrupted by the door swimming open

* “I heard you were awake, are you alright?” Alec rushes in, his eyes frantic

* “Yeah these drugs are top notch” you press the button that releases the pain killers and let out a giggle

* “Is that alright? Humans are awfully sensitive.” Jane pipes up from behind Alec, you hadn’t noticed her in your haze.

* Your doctor chuckles

* “I’m aware,” he’s smiling but it’s strained

* “What’s wrong?” You ask, he was so calm until a second ago, he doesn’t answer you

* “I’ll give you three a moment.”

* You only register he’s gone when you hear the door close

* The twins rush over to you, Jane is kneeled by your side, while Alec hovers over you

* “I-I’m sorry I hurt you, I forgot-I didn’t remember.” You we’re sure Jane would be crying if she could

* “It’s okay, I know you didn’t mean it.” You raise your cast encased hand and give her a gentle pat on the head. “From now on, physical signs of affection will just be one sided.” You joke, which makes Jane grin

* “I’ll practice with some animals before I try touching you again”

* The three of you chat for a bit, they’re both surprised by your cast and ask several questions about its “primary function”

* “I didn’t know there was a doctor here” you murmur, feeling drowsy

* “Carlisle’s not with the Volturi, he’s from another coven in the new world.”

* Your drowsiness flies away in a second

* “That was Carlisle?”

* Jane looks somewhat confused but nods.

* A flutter of hope erupts in your chest, it’s so strong even your grief stricken body feels it

* You might have a chance. It’s slim, Carlisle has a family he loves and needs to protect. But still, they were strangers once too. No different than you.

* It’s a way out of here

* The next few days follow in a drugged haze, Alec and Jane visit every so often, and Carlisle engages you in occasional conversation while checking progress on your hand

* “Why are your eyes gold?” You know, but well, you need him to believe the lie

* “It’s a bit of a long story” he says with a wary smile.

* “I’m not going anywhere”

* He sighs, a genuine smile encompassing his face as he recounts the tale.

* Even though you’ve already heard it all before, it still makes you cry

* Even in the haze, you know something’s.... off

* There’s something about the way Alec won’t meet your eyes when he talks to you, and the uneasy weight that lingers in the air whenever someone else is in the room

* On the third day, it’s Aro who visits you, Alec and Carlisle in tow behind him.

* “Oh my, all that internal bleeding, how awful”

* Even you can feel the insincerity, but it’s the first you heard about internal bleeding

* So that explains it, the drugs and the aches all along your body, it wasn’t just your hand, you were dying

* “Don’t worry, we’ll save you” Aro’s smile is cruel “won’t we Alec?”

* Alec looks afraid, almost pained, but he nods

* Ah, so this was punishment for Alec too. Until that moment, when Jane broke your hand, Aro must have been ignorant to how close the three of you had gotten.

* You close your eyes, you knew this would happen eventually. There were only two ending to this story, and it seemed one had finally been picked

* You feel a pinch on your neck, right above your collar bone, no worse than a flue shot.

* You wait for the pain, the vivid screams you remember from the books and movies, but it never comes.

* Instead it’s just a warm numbness that spreads across your neck and left shoulder.

* “It doesn’t hurt” you murmur, you feel a cold hand rest against your forehead, Alex’s hand.

* It’s so gentle, he must have practiced on some animals first, you think.

* “No the pain comes later.”

* And so you drift into inky black unconsciousness, the last sleep of your human life in this world.

* You dream that you’re sitting at the bottom of a tree, a fig tree, like the one Sylvia Plath wrote about

* Each fig a different path, half of them have already fallen off, dark, as they rot at your feet

* “How do you do it?”

* You look to your side and find the person who’s face you see in the mirror, they’re hugging their knees to their chest, dark circles under their eyes

* “How do I do what?” You ask, they bite their lip

* “How can you be so strong when you’ve just lost everything?”

* You see their eyes brim with tears, and you look away, to the tree that looks over you both

* “I don’t know” It’s the truth, you have an unfair advantage in this world, because you know all the secrets each person carries, while yours remain shrouded in darkness. And yet... it’s not why you persevere

* “All I do know, is that I want to give them hell”

* Your counterpart grins at that, and to your surprise, you feel a smile stretch out across your face

* Yeah, it’s not about power, you just want raise some hell in this backwards misogynistic world.

* “I guess that’s the one you’re picking then huh?” Your counterpart points to a fig, it’s on the tallest branch of the tree, so far out of reach it almost seems unobtainable

* But you only nod

* “Yeah, I think that’s the way I’m going to go”

* They look at you and smile.

* “If you ever get the chance, I hope you punch that jerk Aro right in the face”

* You laugh.

* When you finally awake, you’re still laughing. A smile etched onto your face.

* Everyone’s there, all looking at you with concerned glances.

* Yeah, you’re going to have a lot of fun in this world.

[buckyownsmylife]

It’s always shoot to kill - Bucky Barnes x Reader x Steve Rogers smut

The one where Steve wants to watch Bucky fucking you, knowing that he’ll never be able to do it again

Warnings: dubcon in double instance, neither the reader or Bucky are completely on board with this, p in v, oral sex (f), lots of pining from Bucky, jealousy and possessiveness from Steve, voyeurism, kind of cuckolding too

A/N: I’d like to thank the amazing @angrybirdcr​ for reading this and giving me suggestions to make the story better for y’all! I had the best time brainstorming with Marie and I’m so happy I get to call her a friend now! To see more of the dynamic between those three, check out the other one-shots I have about them!

Steve’s P.O.V.

“Take off all your clothes, I don’t want him undressing you.” She looked hesitant again, the pretty little flower. Kinda like that day, so many months ago, when I dragged Bucky to watch us fucking so he would stop pining for her.

It didn’t work. I still caught him looking at her with wishful eyes, whenever he thought I was too busy to notice. 

I always noticed it. I always did, because my mind, my heart and my gaze seemed to follow her, regardless of how important any of my royal tasks could be. A part of me was always with her, and that part didn’t like that James obviously felt for her the same way that I did.

So I devised a plan. If forcing him to watch me fuck her wasn’t enough, maybe I could let him do it once, just once. That way, maybe, his infatuation would disappear, but even if it didn’t, knowing what it was like to have her and never be able to do it again would certainly kill him inside.

“Now, pretend I’m not even here,” I said, letting myself fall back against the same chair my brother had occupied that night, so many months ago. There was something particularly interesting about being in this position, watching someone that gave me so much jealousy at last have his way with my woman.

It felt almost freeing, somehow. Seeing my worst nightmare play out, knowing I was in control of it. Knowing it was only happening because of me, and I could put an end to it at any time.

I watched as Bucky seemed to hesitate, like he didn’t know where to start, or didn’t actually believe he could reach out and touch her. She seemed just as hesitant, fidgeting under his stare as she fought against the instinct to cover her own body.

“Go on,” I directed, waving towards her. “Tell her how she looks. Do I really have to teach you how to treat a lady?” His jaw clenched at that, clearly offended at my insinuation. “You’ve been wondering what she hides under those dresses all this time. There she is. At least look at her properly.”

I watched as he slowly came to terms with the reality of the situation. His posture changed, he stood up straighter, and now the way he towered over my wife almost seemed threatening.

He started from her feet, eyes slowly traveling up, briefly stopping on her breasts before they reached her face. “You’re so beautiful.” Words so simple, I’d said them thousands of times before. But hearing them now, coming from another pair of lips, had me gripping the arms of my chair.

I didn’t like the way he looked at her. Like she was something precious, something breakable. I knew she wasn’t - I’d been rough with her before and all she ever did was cry out in ecstasy.

She nodded once, like she didn’t know how to respond, eyes unwilling to leave his when he reached out to hold her jaw, but then she averted her gaze in an almost embarrassed manner, suddenly remembering what to say. “Thank you. You’re too kind.”

It almost had me chuckling, if it weren’t for how his hand slowly dropped down, caressing the skin as it went. I watched as it ran over her collarbones before his finger rubbed on a nipple. I saw how she trembled but still tried to control her reactions.

He was hypnotized by then. I knew it, it was obvious by the darkness that had taken over his usually blue hues and the way he licked his lips before he leaned down and used them to engulf one of my wife’s nipples.

Instinctively, she offered her chest to him but tried to keep her gasp of surprise or desire in. Such a good little wife. My perfect queen.

She went willingly when he pushed her down on the bed, eyes burning with passion as he took in the image before him. “Did you ever think you’d have her spread out for you like that?” My voice resonated through the room, but instead of breaking him from his reverie, he didn’t seem to mind it at all. It was like all that mattered to him was her.

Still, he answered me. “No.” There was so much emotion in that simple word, so much hidden just underneath the surface, it had me readjusting myself in the chair, almost considering leaping across the room and prying him away from her.

But then he fell to his knees before her. “My queen,” he said, looking up from under his eyelashes. “Can I be so lucky as to taste you?” A pang of desire ran through my body as I watched her stutter out an acceptance.

And then he was between her thighs. I couldn’t see him through the barrier of her legs, but their sounds and movements told the story of what he was doing. Bringing pleasure to my love.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I didn’t know what to do. How should I behave? At the first touch of James’ tongue on my lower lips, a strangled gasp escaped me, and my hands flew up to find some sort of support on the sheets behind me. God, this was torture, even if I wasn’t the one who was being punished.

I almost closed my eyes to relish in the pleasure I was feeling. His touch was so different from Steve’s - softer and slower, even though there was desperation there.

But then I remembered what was actually happening and I snapped them open, turning my head to look at my husband’s watchful gaze. Unsurprisingly, I found him staring at us with those piercing eyes, his attention never wavering from James and me, but what was astounding was that he didn’t look angry or possessive.

Not at all. There was not an ounce of irritation in his beautiful features, just clear focus as he watched me unfold before his eyes, by the hands of his brother, that now roamed my body.

“Put her on top,” came his voice, clear as day and startling the man between my legs, who seemed to have forgotten about our audience. His head whipped up to see how I felt about my husband’s order, and that’s when I saw it.

His attentive blue eyes, usually so clear, had become dark as night. It was like he was a different person altogether. I could no longer recognize the sweet and caring man I’d once called my best friend…

… but then again, it’d been so long since I’d been close to him in any way.

“What are you waiting for?” My husband’s voice broke me out of my shock, but before I could fully recover, two strong hands had found a new resting spot on my hips as James easily manhandled me into a new position - on my hands and knees, over him.

The weight of his cock, fully erect against the inside of my thigh, sent a thrill through me that I had never anticipated feeling in his hands.

“Go on.” It was like he was waiting for the order because just as soon as Steve’s words disappeared in the air between us, he aligned his member and started to force me down on it. A gasp escaped me, and I had to hold myself against his chest to keep myself up.

Having James inside of me was a completely different experience than when Steve made love to me. Where Steve was long, James was thicker, stretching me in a way I’d never experienced before.

After the first plunge, it was clear that the man inside of me got carried away. He controlled my movements with iron fingers that pressed my flesh so tightly I was sure it’d be hurting for days after.

I could say the same about my insides. He didn’t show any mercy - in fact, I barely even recognized him and this animalistic side he was exposing as he fucked me, eyes keeping my own gaze captive as he grunted and panted underneath me like a man on a mission, if that mission was to ruin me.

“I want to hear you declare your love for her,” came Steve’s voice once again, breaking me out of whatever hypnosis James was performing. “Tell her everything. This is the only time you’ll be able to say how you really feel.”

The pain in his blue eyes was overwhelming. I felt tears rise up in my own eyes, threatening to spill and fall on his face, showing him just how confused I was about this entire situation.

Just who was Steve trying to hurt here?

“I-I’ve always wanted this. You have no idea just how much.” And in the way his voice cracked, I saw it. I saw just how badly he’d craved me, how hard he had tried to hold back from me.

“No one can ever come close to the space I’ve relinquished to you in my heart,” he said, barely over a whisper, and yet I felt like he shouted it at me, the way his hips rose growing quicker and rougher, and I bounced in his arms as he rammed into me. “And it will always be yours,” he assured me, prompting the tears to fall from my eyes, slowly trailing down my cheeks. “My heart will forever belong to you.”

I covered my hand as a sob almost escaped me, but maybe it was a moan, I couldn’t tell. All I knew was that he kept fucking up into me and I couldn’t hold it in much longer, couldn’t pretend I didn’t feel anything while my best friend was inside of me.

But when my moans broke free, my husband didn’t seem to mind. He actually leaned closer, resting his elbows on his thighs as he ordered, “She can get louder. Do it properly.”

And suddenly my world turned upside down because in a simple movement I was the one on the bed and James was hovering over me, never leaving my tight channel. His fingers found my nub, and he massaged it with an eagerness that showed me he wanted me to cum just as badly as I did.

“Cum for him, my queen. Show him how beautiful you are when you’re reaching your high.” It was Steve’s order that brought me to my release, my hands flying up to find a hold on James’ shoulder as I struggled to breathe or even think.

It felt like I was falling from the highest mountain without ever actually touching the ground. When I finally managed to focus again, it was through slowly realizing the way James’ cock was still dragging against my walls. 

I opened my eyes to find him with eyebrows furrowed and sweat sticking strands of his hair on his forehead, his arms trembling on each side of my head. He was desperately trying to hold on just a little longer, and that broke my heart.

I couldn’t close my eyes as he slowly but surely lost the battle against his body, hips quickening before they stopped altogether, and just before he pulled away, he whispered, “I love you,” giving me one last, chaste kiss on the lips.

I could still taste myself in them.

Steve’s stare was heavy on us as James slowly dressed. I wondered what was going on in my husband’s head. Did he think his plan had worked or had he realized it was a mistake all along?

It seemed like the King’s mind still hadn’t been made, as he stopped his brother just before he could leave. “Are you still in love with her?”

James let the question sit on each of our hearts and minds before he gave his answer. “Now more than ever.”

I couldn’t help but notice that he was still hard when my husband kicked him out of the room before turning around to see me, wrecked and dirty, all thanks to another man’s work.

“I hope you’re ready,” he warned, and I already knew I wasn’t. “I can’t wait to fuck his sloppy seconds.”

[meliorist-midoriya]

to you, to the world, to my love (you’re all three)

synopsis: midoriya has always had too much love to give in a world that loved to take. you’re just hoping that he has enough left for you in the end.

pairing: midoriya izuku x reader

genre: fluff with a touch of angst

warnings: some insecurity

word count: 2.5k

notes: happy valentine’s day, everyone! this is my contribution for the pocuties server collab, based off the greek types of love, of which i had the honor of receiving izuku and decided upon agape  please help yourself to the box of chocolates they’re offering for valentine’s, there’s a wide selection of chocolates handmade by talented creators, so i’m sure you’ll find something to your taste! tbh i only managed to finish this fic because i was watching chan’s valentine’s vlive and i was in a super soft mood ;3;

extra: agápe - the ancient greek concept of selfless, universal love.

“Making his debut in the pro hero scene, Pro Hero Deku is blazing a trail straight out of UA—”

“—Pro Hero Deku solved an astounding 30 cases in the past month—”

“Deku’s popularity is skyrocketing, rivaling that of—”

“Hero Deku—”

“Deku—”

“Pro Hero Deku has swept the hero rankings to come out on top as Number 1!”

With a resolute ‘click’ of the remote, the reporters’ overlapping voices cut off as the TV screen faded away, your lonely reflection staring back at you from the blank screen. You, curled up on your empty couch, in your empty apartment with the clock striking what should have been dinner. The TV was only there in an attempt to drown out the crushing silence, the white noise—hellbent on filling the space his presence had left—was deafening.

That attempt failed.

Horribly.

If anything, it just made the sense of wrongness permeating the air even worse. 

(That TV recap of his best moments didn’t help as much as you hoped it would.)

Being alone in this apartment felt… off. As if someone had gouged out what should’ve been there, the ghost of a presence settling a chill into your bones that ran far deeper than just plain loneliness. The foreboding grief of what could be, the fear that you’d resigned yourself to the moment you agreed to follow him on this path, the selfishness gnawing at your conscience every time you saw him run out the door to save the next person, to solve the next case. 

Things like an All Might coffee mug sitting primly next to yours on the drying rack, garishly yellow “tufts” staring back at you with a cracked vengeance. (You’d apologized profusely to him that day, promising to buy him another one. He’d just smiled over his cracked cup of coffee, telling you not to worry about it for the hundredth time.)

Things like his haphazard mess of notes and scrawl spread out on the kitchen counter, the pen sitting next to the half finished page. (You’ve long since learned to leave his notes be, they’ll be tidied up once he’s done… if he’s ever truly done.)

The filled queue of movies and pile of DVDs you’d picked out together, giddy over plans to watch the next time he had a free night. (You remember pretending not to notice him trying to slip another hero documentary near the bottom of the pile, distracting you with talks of popcorn and the night that was supposed to be tonight.)

Deku. The man the world adored, clinging to his promise like a lifeline in times of need. 

Midoriya Izuku. The man you loved, who promised you the world.

“It’ll be okay, I’m here.”

His soft promise echoed both in the battlefield and in your darkest hours, a close mirror to a hero of a generation past, yet it was different. It was his own. Comforting, personal, and wholly him. The public, weak and grasping for new support, latched on to the small sliver of hope his hand offered and he just kept giving, giving, giving. It never seemed to stop, and you were scared. 

He was a man with a bleeding heart with all the love to give and more. To the civilians, to the villains, to anyone in need.

Now, you needed his promise more than ever. A reassurance whispered into reunions and the thousandth hospital visit, over fresh scars and searing kisses. A promise that he would come home. You didn’t want to think of all the times he came so, so close to breaking that promise, even before you two had made it, before you two had even promised yourselves to each other in your UA days.

You pulled the blanket a little tighter around you, staring down at your phone with no real intent in mind as you scrolled. The video playing one of his interview clips (bashfully reciting his “catchphrase,” how cute) cut his voice short as you scrolled past to move on to the next, wincing at the next tweet on your timeline. Him, battered and bloody, as he pulled a child from the aftermath of the battle he’d just won. 

You still need to wrap that new mug you got him as a gift. You still had to listen to him bounce his ideas off of you. You still had to move that hero documentary to the top of the pile. You still—

“Hero Deku saves 30 people, no casualties,” A soft murmuring of the headline shattered the silence, and you smiled to yourself, giggling at all the replies joking of how he threw himself into the fray a little more responsibly and singing their praises.

It’ll be okay.

“Ugh, those reporters are at it again.” 

At your best friend’s exasperated groan, you followed their gaze over to see— ah. 

A small swarm of reporters had worked their way into the fans crowding your boyfriend, their press badges reading every tabloid magazine on this side of the city and prying questions falling off their tongue like poison. From what you could hear over their overlapping clamoring, they were trying to dig into his private life.

Again. 

Deku, the darling of the masses, all sweet smiles and sincere words amidst his strength. Deku, the number one hero with the tightest lock on his private life, which came as a surprise to both everyone and no one.

It was a given, considering his position at the peak of hero society.

It was also a complete shock, considering his tendency to ramble into tangents that had his PR team withering.

Which seemed to help in times like these, now that you thought about it, laughing to yourself as you watched the reporters’ expressions darken in defeat the longer he continued to talk around their questions. Quite a long stretch from stiffly standing on the practice stage at UA all those years ago, frozen from nerves. You idly mused to this to yourself, taking a sip of your drink as you dragged your gaze back over to your best friend.

“Did you choose this cafe because it’s right along Izuku’s patrol route?” They stiffened, and you couldn’t help but laugh at their obvious intentions.

“Maybe, or it could’ve been just a coincidence.” The next teasing jab was halfway off your tongue when they cut you off before you could give into the urge, the words dying in your throat. “When was the last time you saw him anyway? I know you two live together but Todoroki told me he practically lives at the agency with how swamped they are. Are you okay?”

You purse your lips, staring down at the ice swirling around in your cup as you idly stirred it round. As if the sloshing liquid could whisper the answer you wish you knew.

“...Yeah.” They cocked a brow, and you took another sip to try and delay your time. “It’s not like either of us can help it. Izuku’s number one, so this was bound to happen.”

(The clamoring from the reporters grew ever louder. Persistent, that bunch.)

Their expectant (doubting) gaze was met with your own steady one, and you smiled. Whether it was out of consolation or resignation was anyone’s guess.

“We’re okay, I promise.”

You should really be getting to sleep. 

Really, you should.

At least, that’s what you’ve been telling yourself for the past several hours, tossing and turning in your bed with nothing but winter-cold sheets and a gnawing loneliness to keep you company. You know you should be sleeping when the clock on the bedside table reads an ungodly hour and there was work to be done in the morning. You know you should be sleeping when the moon disappears from the night sky and leaves you with nothing but the city lights to dimly illuminate the dark room.

You really know you should be sleeping when you hear the front door click open, Izuku shuffling around the apartment to get ready for whatever minimal amount of sleep he’d get before he had to be up and running soon after.

Despite this, sleep still refuses to come, and you don’t bother pretending to be asleep when he slides into bed next to you. Instead, you turn over and curl into his chest, stifling the guilt that bubbles up when he jumps in surprise.

“Something keeping you up?” Oh, he sounds so tired, and part of you wishes you could just make it all go away. The weight of the world rests heavy on his shoulders, and deep down, you wonder if you’re part of that burden. You curl a little closer, as if trying to smother the thoughts that crashed upon you, spilling over the crack in the dam that only widened the more you spoke.

“Jus’ a little lonely, is all.” Your voice is too quiet, brittle, and you pray to every deity that would listen that he would drop it. That he wouldn’t take on yet another burden when he was already carrying Altas’s share of the world.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

Of course, the gods are hardly ever so merciful—to them you are just another wishful mortal in the realm of the holy and damned—and Izuku’s hand rests on your cheek with a tenderness that makes you want to cry.

“...Why?” 

The confusion that falls over his expression (gaunt, tired, and God, should you even be doing this right now?) is immediate, and he tilts your face up to meet his gaze with yours, like he could find the answer in city lights dancing over your face. His thumb strokes soft patterns over your cheek—as if brushing off the layers you’d built to protect your soul—and you lean into his soft touch with a sigh.

“Why what?”

The words spill from your lips unbidden, your hesitations softened by the comfort of his touch, the sudden drowsiness, and the emotion that near overwhelms you.

“Why do you still try to do everything yourself? When there’s so many people out there, ready to support you?” His breath hitches in shock, but it’s too late to go back now. You reach up to hold the hand cradling your cheek, distantly remembering a time when he was too insecure of his scarred and crooked hands to even hold your hand.

He’s come a long way, indeed.

“I love you, Izuku. I just don’t know if that can hold up against your love for the world.” 

Something in his gaze softens, to your surprise. His smile is even softer.

“What would you do if you’re both?”

“Wh— Izuku—”

He continues, and you listen, raptured by his words spoken into the glow of the blue hour.

“Yes, I know that at the end of the day, peace and safety has to come first, but—” His smile widens into something bashful, a smile that never failed to send butterflies scattering through your heart. “—who says you can’t be right along with them?” 

He bumped his forehead with yours, smiling emerald eyes gazing into your own with such love—dizzying and overpowering and so, so warm. With the steady thrum of your heartbeat matching his, you found yourself falling even deeper once again.

“You know me, I can never compromise when it comes to what’s important to me.”

You laugh, something watery, as he presses a kiss to your forehead, temple, cheek, with a last, smiling kiss on your lips.

“How greedy.” He laughs into your lips, pulling away to hold you closer.

“Just for you.”

There’s so many things you could’ve said, as you watched the rest of the night sky fade into the deep blues of dawn. But, you decide, the comforting silence was best left as is, only broken by one resounding comfort.

It’ll be okay.

“You know, it would’ve been nice to know that you had taken the day off before I had that whole guilt spiral last night.”

“It turned out okay though, didn’t it?” He turned back to flash you that cheeky grin of his, half-hidden by his winter coat and backed by the glow of the setting sun. You just rolled your eyes with a laugh before jogging to catch up to him, slipping you hand out of your pocket to interlace your fingers with his.

“Yeah, it did.” 

The walk was silent as you two strolled down the familiar path, winding down after a whole day spent with each other. It was romantic of him, now that you thought about it, to take the whole Valentine’s Day off just for you. You hummed as you leaned onto him, giddy and content at the thought. 

In love, if you were to be so bold.

(Granted, he had to wear a mask and a cap the entire time to hide from the prying eyes of the public, but you made do.)

The sight of aged, familiar scenery pulled you from your musings, and you tugged at his hand to grab his attention, pointing at the quaint bench surrounded by bare gingko trees.

“Hey, wasn’t this the park where you confessed?” At your words, he froze and glanced over at the familiar scenery, eventually burying his face into his free hand with a groan once the old memories clicked in his head.

“Oh, don’t remind me. It’s still embarrassing to look back on.”

“What? I thought you were cute!” You laughed, nudging him to follow as you led him over to the small park, brushing off the dust to sit on the bench before patting the space next to you. Izuku obliged, and you almost automatically curled into his side, as if by habit.

“Did we really walk all the way here from the station?” His disbelieving tone made you look up at him, his expression one of nostalgic awe, before casting your attention back to the aged scenery, humming in agreement as you idly picked out what’s changed and what’s stayed in the years that have passed.

“I guess we never really forget, huh?”

“I forgot the sunset looked the best from here.”

“I hope you didn’t forget all the memories we made here.” He tore his attention from the sunset to gape down at you, scandalized.

“Of course not!” 

“Really?” He arched a brow at the teasing lilt to your voice and the mischievous grin playing at your lips, “So you didn’t forget accidentally firing an Air Force shot at me when we first met because you were training?”

He buried his face in his hands again with another embarrassed groan.

“I hoped you would forget that, at least!” You just laughed, hugging him closer as if to console him from your teasing. Before long, the atmosphere settled back into a quiet reminiscence, indulging in the nostalgia of memories past in this little park. The silence that was once deafening alone, now softened by the comfort of his presence at your side.

“We’ve made so many memories in this park, huh?” At your soft hum of agreement, he continued. Was his voice shaking? “It wouldn’t hurt to make more, would it?”

“What do you me—”

Your question cut itself short as you saw what he held out to you. 

A little velvet box, sitting open in his hand. You dragged your suddenly watery gaze back up to Izuku, his once bashful smile now wobbly with nerves. 

So familiar in this little park, yet so new.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”

It was just a small walk down memory lane, the street lights blinking on one by one in the wake of the fiery sunset as you two walked the familiar path together. Yet there was something buzzing anew in the air, humming through your soul as you held out your hand to the sun, admiring the way the gem on your ring finger sparkled in the fading sunset. In the other, you interlaced your fingers with his.

Yeah�� 

You caught Izuku’s soft gaze, smiling and in love.

We’ll be okay.

[animeomegas]

Omega!Naruto - Family Night

Now I’m so curious as to what a typical family night would entail with the boys! When the kids are pretty young and they finally have some time off and their alpha also has some time off to spend together? 👉🏻👈🏻with house husband itachi because that is the only way><

I assume you want the Naruto boys, I’m going to post them one at a time, so I can keep active this week. Up first is Naruto!

Warnings: Mpreg (implied)

Naruto:

As Hokage, it was rare for Naruto to get a full day off without some emergency calling him back to work, but today he had left Shikamaru in charge, (against his will), so that he could come home to spend the evening with you and his children.

And what better way to spend time together than with a board game!

Naruto picked up a simple board game (suitable for younger children) on his way home, knowing that you had sorted out the snacks last night.

“I’m home!” Naruto calls out, shuffling through the front door with the new game and a couple of stacks of paperwork in hand.

“Daddy!” He heard his eldest son shout, followed by the sound of little footsteps sprinting towards the door.

Naruto put the bags on the floor in preparation, crouching down and holding out his arms as his son flew around the corner with a huge grin on his face.

“Oof,” Naruto had the wind knocked out of him as his son barrelled straight into his chest. He stood up, holding his son tightly in his arms.

“You’re getting so big now!” Naruto exclaimed, over dramatically wheezing as his son giggled. “Can’t believe you’re already nine, soon I won’t be able to pick you up anymore!”

His son gasped and tightened his arms around Naruto’s neck.

“No, I always want daddy to pick me up.”

“Hmm,” Naruto hummed thoughtfully. “I suppose daddy’s just going to have to train more so he can keep doing it then, huh?”

His son nodded furiously. “Yes, daddy, I think that’s a good idea.” He then nuzzled his face into Naruto’s shoulder, taking a deep breath of his father’s scent and purring gently. Naruto purred back, pressing a kiss onto his son’s head.

At that moment, you rounded the corner, a one-year-old twin in each arm, smiling tiredly at him.

“Looks like someone is trying to get out of doing their homework again,” you teased your son. “You know we aren’t playing the board game until all homework is done.”

Your son huffed but wiggled his way out of Naruto’s embrace and made his way back to the kitchen table to join his sister to finish his homework.

You and Naruto both laughed gently at his antics, before moving to embrace each other, careful not to crush the twins.

“Missed you,” you murmured.

“Missed you, too,” he responded.

You stayed like that for a few seconds, just enjoying each other’s warmth, before one of the twins reached up and yanked Naruto’s hair.

Naruto swore lightly under his breath, before trying to remove the tiny hand clenched in his hair. Both twins were giggling at his struggle. You suppressed your own laughter.

“I told you these two are going to be trouble,” you laughed.

“Yeah,” Naruto grumbled, rubbing the sore spot on his head, “I can see what you mean.”

“Daddy!” came a voice from the kitchen, “Can you come here, please?”

“Oh,” you remembered. “She wants you to proofread her homework before she gives it in on Monday.”

Naruto nodded. “I can do that. Coming!”

Naruto headed into the kitchen, where his oldest children were working on homework. It looked like his son was working on maths homework from his civilian school, while his daughter was writing about the history of the Shinobi nations for the Academy.

“Can you read this please?” his daughter asked, shoving a piece of paper in his face.

Naruto slipped into the chair beside her and picked up the document to read. He felt his eyebrows raise up the more he read. It always astounded him how good his daughter was at history.

“How is it?” she asked, fidgeting with her fingers a little.

“Honestly?” he started, “Better than most of the mission reports I have to read. Good job!” He praised her, ruffling her hair.

She grinned at him, carefully rolling the paper up and slipping it into her school bag.

“How was your day at school today?”

“Great!” His daughter exclaimed. “Uncle Sasuke’s daughter beat up this boy in the playground for pulling her hair! It was awesome!”

Naruto snorted, not surprised in the slightest.

“Sounds like fun,” he laughed. “Why don’t you go and help set up for game night while I finish up the homework with your brother?”

Once all the homework was complete, everyone settled down on the living room floor, surrounded by plenty of snacks.

The twins had been put to bed, and now you, Naruto and your two oldest children were ready to play the game.

Your son had dragged half of his nest with him, laying blankets and pillows down next to Naruto before climbing onto his father’s lap and refusing to sit anywhere else.

 Seeing as they were sitting together, you decided to play in teams; Naruto and your son vs you and you daughter.

The game was fiercely competitive. Well, your son was a lot more focused on getting cuddles from Naruto, but everyone else was very invested!

In the end, you and you daughter won! Her excellent strategic skills coming in handy!

It was late by the time the game had finished, and everyone, stuffed with junk food, was starting to get sleepy.

You left to check in the twins in the nursery while Naruto tucked your other children into bed.

His daughter always wanted to talk more about her day before bed, so Naruto sat on her bed, gently stroking her hair while she talked about her day.

“-and then I said he was being stupid, and I got sent out into the hall! Which wasn’t fair because he was being an idiot.”

Naruto nodded, still listening with full attention. He always enjoyed the faces of his shinobi when they realised he knew every bit of academy gossip. Those with children in the academy could guarantee that Naruto knew more about what they did there, than they did.

“-and then you came home, so you know the rest.”

“Sounds like an eventful day,” Naruto laughed gently. “I’m very proud of you for working so hard on your homework today. Maybe try not to get kicked out of class again though.”

“Iruka sensei said that you didn’t even come to class most the time.”

Naruto choked on nothing, flushing pink. “Well… Iruka sensei is exaggerating a bit, but school is very important okay?”

“Okay, daddy,” she whispered, eyes already closing.

“Good girl, sweet dreams.”

Naruto left the room quietly, leaving her door open a crack, before heading to his son’s room. His son was already ready for bed, sitting patiently, waiting for him to come and tuck him in.

“Hey, buddy,” Naruto whispered, stepping fully into the room. “Ready for bed?”

“Yep, but,” he hesitated. “I don’t want to go to bed yet.”

Naruto frowned slightly, moving to sit on his bed with him.

“Why not? You not tired yet?”

His son shook his head, playing with one of the many blankets on his bed.

“Then why?” Naruto asked gently, stroking his son’s head.

His son didn’t answer but climbed onto Naruto’s lap.

“Will you be here when I wake up?” he asked, voice muffled into Naruto’s shoulder.

Naruto sighed sadly. “I have to go to work, my sweet boy, I’m sorry.”

His son started to cry and sniffle into Naruto’s shoulder. Naruto’s heart broke more and more with every sob/

“Shh, shh,” he hushed him, rocking him slightly and purring to try and calm him down. “Please don’t cry…”

“Don’t want you to go!” His son wailed, gripping tightly onto Naruto’s shirt.

“Shh, shh, calm down, I’m right here,” Naruto tried desperately to soothe his son. “You don’t have school tomorrow, right?”

His son nodded.

“How about you come and spend lunch with me, yes? You could go and grab some ramen and bring it to my office and we can have lunch?” Naruto offered, desperately hoping it was enough to calm him down.

His son considered the offer for a moment, before slowly nodding once again.

Naruto let out a sigh of relief.

“There we go,” Naruto settled his son back into bed. “I’ll see you tomorrow at lunch, okay, don’t forget!”

“I’ll never forget, daddy!”

Naruto smiled proudly at him. “I know you wouldn’t.”

Naruto leaned down for one last cuddle, scenting a cuddly toy for his son, before leaving his room with a soft ‘Goodnight’.

You were standing right outside the door, obviously having heard the previous conversation. You gestured for him to follow you back into the living room. Naruto slumped onto the sofa, head in his hands.

“It’s not your fault, Naruto,” you whispered to him, sitting beside him and taking him into your arms.

Naruto laughed bitterly. “It feels like it is. He shouldn’t have to miss his own father that much; I should be here.”

“You are here,” you disagreed, rubbing circles on his back. “You’re doing as much as you can, and as long as you keep joining us for family nights and having lunch together, no one can accuse you of not loving your family enough.”

Naruto let out a breath, sagging like a puppet with cut strings. “Sorry, it’s just hard sometimes. I can’t stand it when he cries for me, it makes me feel awful.”

“I know, baby, I know.”

“I don’t want him to grow up without me, he’s already so big, I feel like I’ve missed so much.”

“You haven’t, baby, I promise. They all look up to you and love you so much.”

“Yeah…” Naruto leaned back fully into your embrace, feeling a little better. “I guess…”

“Come on, I think we should both get some sleep before the twins decide it’s play time again.”

Naruto whined in disagreement. “Let’s cuddle here for a bit longer.”

You laughed at his dramatics, but agreed, pulling him firmly into your arms, and settling onto the sofa. Naruto pulled a blanket from the arm and laid it over you both.

“This is nice,” he purred, pressing a few kisses to your neck.

“Yeah, it is,” you tightened your grip around him slightly. “Relax as best as you can, baby, you deserve it.”

[gallickingun]

o( ❛ᴗ❛ )o I think I need me so sleepy time fluffy morning Baku sex. I've been corrupting myself too much lately LOL. Thirst post or drabble I guess? "Hey, you awake?" "Do you have any idea what you do to me?" "Don't cum yet."

PAIRING: Bakugou Katsuki x Fem!Reader RATINGS: M/E+ WARNINGS: smut WORD COUNT: 1.9k+

request from THIS prompt list - prompt fill sentences will look like this.

“Hey, you awake?”

You groan, stuffing your head beneath your pillow. It isn’t enough that he has the audacity to wake up before the sun rises, but for him to bother you until your eyes are peeled open? You smack your lips together, a disgruntled sound raking against your throat as you close your eyes again.

His palm is warm as it travels down the length of your abdomen, as if his scarred hands are prodding at every one of your ribs to count them in the early morning light, “I know you’re awake, c’mere.”

“Go back to bed,” you murmur into the sheets, but it holds no intent because you’re doing as he says, swiveling your body to tuck into his chest. Bakugou’s arms slink underneath your sleep shirt, a shirt he recognizes as his own, fingerprints mapping out the dips and curves of your back and shoulders. You hear him groan into the crown of your hair and you smirk, your eyes lazily drawing their way up to look into his crimson orbs, “Can’t sleep?”

On cue, Bakugou’s hips rut forward, and you feel his very prevalent boner press into your thigh. Your thigh muscles tighten at the sensation, the half-asleep haze still fogging up your brain so you can only think in partial thoughts.

His nose nuzzles your forehead, nudging against the creases until your skin softens, smoothing beneath his kisses. He grunts when you roll your hips forward, a teasing cant of your waistline making his blunt fingernails bite into your skin. A low growl rumbles in his chest, making its way up his throat until every cell in his body is vibrating with anticipation.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he murmurs into your tresses, voice dropped an octave when you hitch your thigh up over the top of his to get closer. Bakugou’s voice is still rough with sleep, all jagged edges and coarse tones as his mouth begins to wander, mumbling little aborted sentences into your skin, “Such a fuckin’ filthy tease in your sleep, babe. You feel that?”

He’s of course referring to the throbbing cock he’s currently sporting, pressed flush between your thighs and his. Bakugou licks the pad of his tongue over the length of your neck, tracing your jugular with his teeth. A fresh wave of arousal slickens the skin of your thighs, pre-come leaking from his tip to mix with your wetness.

“S’too early,” your murmuring against his collarbones, lazy, sloppy kisses pressed into his hot flesh.

Bakugou has always been a human heater – you suppose it’s just a side effect of his quirk. His body naturally runs hotter so he can kickstart his explosion quirk whenever he needs to. The stinging sensation of his palms as he tries to tame his power is not lost on you as his hands roam your body, pulling and dragging at you to keep you close and feel your frame.

He traipses a hand between your bodies, fingertips running down your abdomen until he reaches the spasming outer walls of your cunt, “Hah,” he is brash in his laughter, “you’re fuckin’ soaked, Princess. You really gonna tell me it’s too early?”

“Shuddup and fuck me,” you murmur into his neck, lavishing the skin with your teeth and tongue. Bakugou moans at the action, his eyelids slipping closed and his eyes rolling back in his head. You reach a hand up his neck to palm at his undercut until you get to a thatch of hair that you can hold onto, grasping at it desperately so you can bring him back down to kiss your mouth.

Bakugou is quick to roll himself over so he’s loitering above you, a shadow cast down on your body thanks to the beginning rays of the sunrise filtering in through your partially open blinds. He nudges his nose against the bridge of your face, tracing the outlines of your cheek bones while your hands busy themselves with his torso. You cannot get enough of his body, toned and yet somehow supple at the same time. Your fingers knead into the plush flesh of his ass, and he tilts his head so he can kiss you.

The head of his cock butterflies your pussy so he can collect the silvery strands of slick that have gathered between your lips. You moan into the cavity of his mouth, his teeth biting down on your tongue when he gets the chance, “Fuck, baby,” his voice is low as he sucks on the muscle, rutting his hips forward out of pure primal need.

“I love you,” you murmur into the void, playing with he blonde strands of hair that you can reach. Your other hand is rested between the planes of his shoulders, palming at the muscles that ripple as he moves.

Bakugou kisses your bottom lip, leaning back to admire your features, “I love you too.”

He accentuates the sentence by slowly dredging his cock forward, coating himself in your arousal at an agonizing pace that leaves you wanting more but somehow unable to beg for it. You adore him in these moments – when he is wanton enough to devour you whole, but uses his ever astounding self-restraint to savor your every sound. Bakugou is handsy when he’s just woken up, fingerprints searching for something to memorize, as if his very anatomy was pieced together to mesh with yours. He knows you like he knows himself, inside and out, and it only serves to better moments like this.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he’s almost whining, his voice thick as he does so. You find yourself sifting your fingers through his hair before your palm settles on his cheek, guiding his eyesight to your face so he can look down at you from where he’s hovering.

You swear you hear a gentle whimper when he makes eye contact with you, but you don’t press him about it, instead enjoying the view you have from beneath him. His hair shines like gold in the warm sunlight, his eyes are glittering rubies as his gaze bores into you, as if you might have all the secrets to the questions of the universe. You tilt your chin and kiss him on the mouth, tenderly and slow, and he matches your pace with the stuttering of his hips.

A moan passes between you, the origin of it unclear given that you now can’t tell where you end and he begins. You are a mess of tangled limbs and sounds, your arms and legs wound around his body as he fucks into you slowly. The bed creaks underneath your weight, but it only adds to the cacophony of sounds all intermingling together to form the melody of your morning.

“Damn, Princess,” Bakugou drops his mouth to your neck, softly sucking at a few different patches of skin. Hard enough to elicit a reaction in the way of your cunt clenching around his cock, but not hard enough that he might leave a mark that you’ll have to cover.

Bakugou works you to the precipice of pleasure, your climax fast approaching as the ministrations of his hips do not falter. You can feel his cock twitching from withing your walls and you clamp down to hold him steady, winding your hands in his hair as you hold him close, “N-No, don’t cum yet.”

He makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat, his hips bucking up into you in defiance, but it is only second nature for him. Bakugou kisses your jawline before murmuring in your ear, “I don’t know how you expect me to last much longer with this fucking perfect pussy of yours, all sloppy and wet around my cock.”

You shiver at his lewd words, your spine bolstering with confidence as he litters praise down on you like confetti. You tilt your head so your cheek is pressed into his, beckoning him forward with the gentle tug of your hand in his hair, “I-I wanna look at you when you cum.”

Bakugou is immediately upright, pulling his hips away from you so only the tip of him is submerged within your core, hot and throbbing with the imminence of his release. You feel him tensing up his body to try and force himself to look down at you, every nerve beneath his skin practically shattering at the sight of you so blissed-out and at his mercy.

His thumb brushes over the apple of your cheek and you feel like there has never been a more ethereal moment than this one. The soft smell of sweets cooking over a campfire fills your nostrils, a familiar taste in the air that you’ve come to know after many years of being with Bakugou Katsuki. Your chest brushes his as you inhale deeply, committing the moment to memory, commiserating it with the slight flare of your nostrils.

The sight of him so close to the crest of his release makes your thighs tense, but you want to savor this moment. These few seconds between when everything is calm and then the coil finally snaps, washing white-hot pleasure through your entire being. You press your palms to his cheeks, his still hazy eyes trying desperately to find a part of you to focus on.

A quiet curse falls from his lips before he sheathes his cock within you again, bottoming out on the first stroke. You can tell by the strain of his neck that he wants to lower his head, but he fights every instinct in his body and keeps his eyes focused on you, those vermillion irises ever present as you both begin to climb toward your release.

“Please, Katsuki,” you lick your lips and beg for him, clenching your thighs until they’re quivering, “cum in me, I want to feel you cum in me.”

Bakugou’s eyes are steely as he looks down at you, “Here you go, baby,” he murmurs into the void of your bedroom, the words airy and light as they drift from his lips to your ears.

Your heels dig into the plush of his backside, anchoring him to you as you feel the familiar heat of his spend coating your core. You moan in tandem with him, milking him with your glutinous walls trapping his cock inside. His tip is pressed hotly against your cervix, and you swear you can feel him in your spine, but that does nothing but stir your body into passion, brought even closer to the end when his thumb finds your clit.

“C’mon, Princess,” he mutters as he leans down to kiss you quickly on the mouth, “I want you to come for me, yeah? Come on my cock.”

That is all the encouragement your body needs, your arousal meeting his as you cry out, throwing your head forward to press against his collarbone. You sob at the feel of your body tensing up from head to toe, your orgasm shattering the world around you until all you can fathom is Katsuki.

Bakugou hums once you’ve fallen slack, nudging his nose along your cheek, “Where’s my girl?”

Your head falls back to the pillow and your hands find their familiar place in his ashen blonde locks, “Right here.”

As if there were anywhere else you’d rather be.

[jombocostello]

Lost in Translation (Polnareff x Reader)

Anonymous asked: Hey! Would you mind writing a little Polnareff fic where the reader tried to learn French pick up lines to finally drop some hints, but messes up/forgets a word and gets embarrassed? 🥺

Now this is just too sweet. I changed the request up a little bit, I hope you don’t mind!! (Also if you spot any mistakes with the French, please let me know!! I’m not sure how much my high school education of French prepared me for writing Polnareff fanfiction lmao)

-----

"(Y/N), what the hell are you doing?"

You jump, tearing your eyes from the book you're scouring. You look at Joseph, who's sitting a few feet away from you on his hotel bed. He frowns. "It's three in the morning. Shouldn't you be sleeping?"

"I... Well..." You laugh nervously, attempting to discreetly slide the book under your pillow as you search for the right words. "Yeah. I probably should be."

Joseph stands up and turns on the lamp that sits between you two, and you wince when the light hits your eyes. "But seriously, what have you been doing?" he asks again as he sits back down. "I've been trying to get some sleep and all I can hear is you muttering nonstop over there."

You can feel yourself start to blush, and you fix your eyes on the fascinating corner of the door behind Joseph. "Ah... I was just reading out loud. It helps me take it in better, y'know?" It's not a very good lie, and though you're not looking at Joseph, you know he's not buying it. "Half of enjoying a good book is visualization, isn't it?" You're audibly anxious.

"Fine. But what exactly are you reading?" You start to sweat; he's ruthless in his interrogation.

"Uh, it's... I mean you're probably not interested in it." Joseph's patience suddenly runs thin, and he leaps up and snatches the book out of your hand. "What the hell?" you shout, forgetting about the thin hotel walls and attempting rather aggressively to grab the book back.

Joseph, thanks to his powerful Joestar genes, is easily able to hold you off. "Hmm, what is... English-to-French dictionary...?" He looks up at you, confused, and you freeze. He rolls his eyes. "(Y/N), I'm failing to see what's so embarrassing about this. You want to learn a new language? More power to you - " Mid-sentence, he seems to come to a revelation, and you wince. You had almost made it out alive.

"...You're learning this for Polnareff, aren't you?"

"Isn't that the million dollar question?" you mumble, gluing your eyes to the floor. "Yes."

You can hear him horribly containing his laughter. "You've - you've got dedication, I'll give you that!" Little giggles are starting to escape him, and as he suddenly begins to howl with laughter, you try again to grab the paperback out of his hands.

Without breaking a sweat, he shoves you back onto your bed and starts leafing through the book. "Oh my God," Joseph wheezes, wiping a tear away with one hand and holding the book close to his face with the other. "I mean I knew you had feelings for the guy, but I had no idea you loved him like this!" The word 'love' hits you viscerally and you cover your face with your hands, trying to push down your unbearable embarrassment. "Oh God, that's so cute."

"Shut up!" you hiss, finally managing to wrestle the book back from Joseph. "I don't have to explain myself to you," you spit with as much rudeness as you can muster.

"You don't have to explain a thing, my friend," Joseph replies without missing a beat. "I can read you like a book right now."

"Oh my God," you groan, turning away and looking down at the bed. Your face is on fire, and you gingerly set the book down next to your pillow and you fold your arms on your lap. "Just... Fine. You got me, okay?"

"I guess I did get you! I really didn't mean to." Joseph's laughter seems to have finally ended, and he watches as you shift uncomfortably under his gaze. "Sorry for laughing, (Y/N). I'm not trying to make fun of you, I promise - it's just so ridiculous that you're going to all these lengths to win Polnareff over when I'm sure it shouldn't be that difficult."

"Shouldn't be that... What do you mean?" You momentarily put aside your anger when you hear Joseph's words.

"Isn't it obvious? You two are perfect for each other. I'm positive that Polnareff shares your feelings."

"That's funny," you respond, huffing out a little laugh. "He's always flirting with girls, isn't he? I know you've seen him do it."

Joseph rolls his eyes. "Of course I have. That's just the way he is. He can be a bit...familiar with the young women he meets, but I'm fully convinced that you're the person he has his eyes on." Before you can interject with another rebuttal, Joseph speaks again. "Don't argue with me on this. I've been alive far longer than you and I've seen lots of people fall in love in this lovely world!"

You don't want to admit it, but Joseph's actually giving you some confidence here. "You, well... You might be right." Joseph grins. "I'm still gonna try to figure out some of this stupid language, though. I think he'll be happy to hear it - I mean, he's been away from home for a long time." You swing your legs up onto the bed and cross them, grabbing the book and flipping it open as you do.

Joseph marvels at the sheer concentration in your eyes as you force your way through the paperback dictionary. He can't believe how in love you are; it's honestly making him a little teary-eyed. "Well, goodnight," he says as he climbs back under the covers. "Want me to leave the light on?"

"If that's okay, yeah." Joseph nods and lays his head down on his pillow. As he shuts his eyes and drifts off to sleep, he listens to you faintly mutter to yourself, "Je t'aime. Je t'aime, je t'aime, je t'aime..."

-----

The next day comes quickly, and unfortunately you haven't really slept enough to prepare for it. You'd stayed up all night after your little encounter with Joseph, so you're left with about an hour and a half of sleep to get through the day. You and Joseph quickly get ready, and you go to meet the rest of the group in the lobby.

You yawn loudly as you step out of the elevator, and Joseph takes a second to laugh at you before following. You elbow him in the arm as you walk up to Jotaro, Avdol, Iggy, and Polnareff. Kakyoin's still resting up in the hospital; you all miss him dearly.

"Good morning!" Avdol calls, watching as you shuffle into the little group. "Did you two sleep well?"

You simply shake your head, and Joseph laughs a little at your severe expression. "(Y/N) stayed up all night reading," he explains, but after you shoot a look his way he shuts his mouth.

"Oh, really?" Polnareff asks brightly, raising his eyebrows. You look up at him and feel your heart start pounding; if he asks what you were reading you think you might drop dead on the spot. "Didn't take you for the reading type."

You nearly laugh at that, looking incredulously up at Polnareff. "What the hell does that mean - are you calling me dumb?"

"No!" he says hastily, eyes wide. "I mean - maybe." You both start laughing now, and Joseph leaves to return the hotel keys and check out. "In all seriousness," Polnareff starts with a little smile on his face, "I just didn't think you could sit still long enough to enjoy a novel. You seem like a more active person, I guess."

You honestly can't - your little French study sessions have been nothing short of torture. Still, you just shrug. "Everyone enjoys a good story, don't they?"

"Yeah." Polnareff turns to Jotaro and Avdol, who have been chatting to each other. "So, what's on the agenda today?" he asks, leaning against the wall behind him.

"Well..." Avdol thinks to himself for a moment. "We're a few hours away from Cairo. I think we should stay here for a while longer and then start heading there at around midday - so we can arrive under the cover of night."

"You're a good strategist, Avdol," you comment. "I would've just had us all drive into the city and parade around to find a hotel."

Avdol huffs out a laugh. "As much as I'd like to do that, our lives are in danger. We'll have to be really careful once we get to Cairo. I'm sure Dio has eyes everywhere."

"Yeah." You turn to Jotaro, who's been silent so far. Iggy's on the ground next to him, looking as pissed off as a dog possibly can. "How did you sleep last night?"

He just shrugs. "Same old. It was nice having the room to myself, save for this little asshole." He jabs his thumb in Iggy's direction, and you snort. "But yeah, it was fine. I just wanna get this over with. I've been..." He glances down at his shoes. "I've been thinking about my mom."

You'd almost forgotten about the original reason Joseph and his grandson set out on this mission. You had heard from the Foundation a few days ago that Holly Kujo's condition was only worsening. "You're gonna see her soon, huh? When we get to Cairo we'll practically be in Dio's backyard."

Jotaro nods. "Yep. Can't wait to beat the shit out of him."

You grin and nod vigorously. "I'm with you there."

Joseph returns to your little group, and the five of you all huddle together. "So," he starts, taking a deep breath. "Are you thinking we should wait, Avdol?"

"Yes. I was just saying that we should give it a few hours before we get on the road."

Joseph seems satisfied with that answer. "Perfect. So until then... I guess we can do a bit of sightseeing! We should pair up and try to stay at least a little close by. I'll stick with Avdol, and Jotaro - would you mind going with Iggy? If anything happens, both of your stands would be more than capable of taking care of things." Jotaro rolls his eyes and hums in agreement. "Okay. That leaves you two."

The sheer glee in Joseph's shit-eating grin as he looks at you and Polnareff honestly astounds you. Polnareff doesn't seem to notice, and he looks down at you. "Well this'll be fun! I haven't gotten to spend much time with you in the past couple days, (Y/N)." There's a pure affection in Polnareff's voice as he speaks to you, and you feel yourself fall even deeper in love. "We'll see you guys here in three hours, alright?" Joseph nods, waving goodbye with a sickly sweet smile, and Polnareff takes your hand and drags you through the revolving door.

The sun feels great on your skin. You follow Polnareff out, looking at your hand clasped in his as he leads you down the street a ways. He makes you feel so, so happy, and you're overcome by the desire to tell him that. "Where are you going?" you call, laughing a little when you realize you've been following him without having a clue where he's taking you.

He halts suddenly, and you run right into his back. "Oh, shit! Sorry." He spins around and rights you, peering down at your face. "That didn't hurt, did it?"

"N-no." You wince and feel your nose, which had rammed right into one of his shoulder blades. "I'm all good." After a thumbs-up for confirmation, Polnareff is satisfied. "So we're here?"

"Yep!" Polnareff gestures to the shop you're standing in front of. It's a café by the looks of it, and it seems pretty nice. "We passed it while we were driving in yesterday."

"Oh, cool!" Polnareff heads inside and you follow him. At the counter, Polnareff orders a couple pastries and two espressos for both of you. Once he gets his order, he hands you your espresso and walks out the door. He's really intent on getting the most out of these few hours of respite, it seems.

"Now that we have some food," he says, gesturing to the little bag of desserts, "we can have a picnic!" He starts walking briskly down the street, and you nearly have to jog to keep up with him.

"Did you spot this on the way in too?" you ask. He nods. "Damn, I missed so much. I was sleeping." He laughs, and you join in. After a few more minutes, you reach your destination.

It's a little park that overlooks a small, tranquil pond. "Oh, this is neat!" you say. "It's really pretty."

"Yeah." You look up at Polnareff as he gazes out at the scenery. You haven't seen him this relaxed in a long time; he's usually being pestered by Iggy or attacked by some enemy stand user. You're really grateful that you get to share a calm, sweet moment with him before you have to head out to battle in Cairo.

You decide to take a seat on the grass a few feet away from the pond. Polnareff sits down beside you and carefully sets his espresso down on the grass, making sure it doesn't spill, and you do the same. You cross your legs as Polnareff reaches into the bag and pulls out a pastry.

"For you," he says, bowing his head as he hands you a croissant.

You laugh as you take it from him. "I'm honored," you reply, dipping your head in mock gratitude to Polnareff. He smirks a little and takes out a croissant for himself, leaning back and taking a big bite. You try yours, and it tastes amazing. "You're got a good eye," you tell Polnareff, your voice a little muffled as you eat. "This is really good."

"Well it's only natural that I would have an eye for cuisine," he replies with a smug grin. You reach over and slug him in the arm, and he lets out a startled laugh when you hit him. "Hey! It's true." You sigh and turn towards the pond, watching the little ripples in the water as the breeze gently brushes over it. Polnareff's still laughing a little beside you, and the whole scene suddenly feels completely and utterly romantic. You realize with a start that this is the perfect moment to try out your newly acquired language skills!

You pick up your espresso and take a sip; it's just as good as the food had been. Tentatively, you look over at Polnareff and find him staring out at the pond. "C'est un bon café," you say as nonchalantly as you can.

Polnareff nods and smiles faintly. "Oui, je suis d'accord," he replies, but the second the words leave his mouth he whips his head around, staring at you with wide eyes. "What did - did you just - was that French?" he sputters, starting to grin like an idiot.

You return the smile, nodding. "Oui. I'm glad you could understand me."

"Glad I could - God, (Y/N), you're so - " Polnareff suddenly reaches out and wraps you in a huge hug, knocking the wind from you as he practically pulls you into his lap.

"H-hey!" you yelp, laughing loudly as he rests his chin on your shoulder. He sighs, placing his hand at the base of your neck, and you feel a shiver run through you. After a moment, he pulls away and beams at you.

"I didn't know you knew French!" he says brightly; he looks ecstatic. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't know it until a few days ago," you tell him with a little smile. "I've been picking it up little by little. I still barely know anything."

"You've been...learning it?" he asks softly, raising his eyebrows.

"Yeah! I found a little dictionary at a shop about a week ago, and that's actually what I stayed up all last night reading. Can't say that I'm grasping it very well, but I'm giving it a shot just for you!" The smile drops from your face a bit when you notice that Polnareff's expression has grown somber.

"(Y/N)..." Your eyes widen when you notice tears welling up in Polnareff's eyes. "You've been such a good friend to me. You're always there to make me smile, and well, you've saved my life a few times too. But this, I - you don't know what it means to me."

You reach out and take his hands in yours, a little clumsily. "You're the one who makes me smile. You're my best friend." You're suddenly made acutely aware of the butterflies in your stomach, and you suck in a deep breath. It feels like it's now or never. "Polnareff, there's something I want to tell you." He blinks the tears from his eyes, and you hold his hands a little tighter. "I really - "

Before you can finish, you're punched in the jaw by an impossibly powerful fist. You fly back, landing hard in the grass a few feet away. As you stumble to your feet, swearing and clutching your face, you summon your stand. It fucking figures there's a stand user here. Sometimes you wonder if you're some sort of stand magnet.

Polnareff frantically pulls himself up and dashes over to you. "(Y/N)!" he shouts, holding you by the shoulders and looking at your jaw. "Shit, are you alright?!"

You wince when Polnareff ghosts his fingers over the spot. "Probably not," you mutter, breathing in sharply through your nose. Polnareff freezes, and you shrug his other hand off of you. "We've gotta beat this guy, okay?"

"Y-yeah." Polnareff summons Silver Chariot and stands against your back, scanning the area for the stand or its user. You do the same, trying to push the pain out of your mind. "There!" Polnareff suddenly shouts, and you twist your head around.

It's a man; he's standing on the other side of the pond. He stalks up to the two of you, and as he walks, his stand slowly materializes behind him. It's extremely threatening, with a build that could rival Star Platinum and deep-set, bright red eyes. You force yourself to approach him and Polnareff follows you. Your stand is an archer, suited for long-range battle, and Polnareff's works better at a closer range, so you're usually able to cover each other's blind spots. Your stand pulls out an arrow and nocks it, aiming for the head of your enemy. "(Y/N), right?" he calls, a lax smirk on his face. "And Jean Pierre Polnareff." He and his stand take another step forward, and you tense. Polnareff's Silver Chariot is ready to strike at any moment. "Easy, easy!" he says, raising his hands on either side of his head. "I'm a fair man. Allow me to explain my stand to you."

You glance at Polnareff, and after a moment of hesitation he nods his head. Your stand lowers its bow while Silver Chariot points its rapier to the ground. The man slowly and surely approaches the two of you, and his stand waits beside him. "Thank you. Truce for now?" You grit your teeth and will yourself to nod. "I'm glad. Well, my stand is the Seven of Swords. Essentially, it's extremely powerful. I doubt you'll be able to get a single hit in, if I'm being honest." You can feel rage bubbling up inside you, and as hard as you try to fight it, you just can't kick the feeling. Your gaze flits to Polnareff; he looks just as angry as you.

Grimacing, you look back to the user. "My stand specializes in strength. Every punch it deals leaves a lasting effect - as I'm sure you've noticed, (Y/N)."

You want to scream. The smug look he's wearing and the searing pain in your face is all too much, and before he can continue, you have your stand quickly nock an arrow and fire. You hit him in his right shoulder - he had punched you with that arm - and he falls back, grasping at the wound. "Shit!" he shouts, leaning against his giant stand. With its left arm, Seven of Swords reaches out and yanks the arrow from its user's body.

You start to grin; it looks like you've knocked this guy down a notch. However, just when Polnareff moves to strike and you ready another arrow, he and his stand vanish. "What the hell?" Polnareff mutters, scanning the area. "Where could they have - "

"(Y/N), I'm disappointed!" You scream when the stand wraps its left arm around your neck, squeezing painfully but just lightly enough to let you remain conscious. The man leans in far too close and speaks. "You broke our truce. I suppose I can't be too angry... I wasn't exactly being completely truthful either." The stand's grip on you tightens, and you choke out a cough. Polnareff goes to slice through the arm around your neck, but before you even know what's happened, you're on the other side of the pond. Polnareff, now a great distance away, gapes at you before running over as quickly as he can.

"My Seven of Swords is a master of teleportation," the man announces. "Everything else is just a plus." His stand abruptly releases you, and as you gasp for air, the man grins. "I'm surprised by how easy it was to take care of you, (Y/N). Lord Dio had made you sound a lot tougher." You try to swear at him, but your voice is hoarse and barely understandable.

"(Y/N)!" You turn your head when Polnareff cries your name, and suddenly you're punched hard in the abdomen. You're knocked to the ground and your head smacks into the dirt, and the last thing you see before you lose consciousness is Polnareff's face, equal parts anguished and enraged.

-----

The first thing you note when you fade back into consciousness is a strong pain in your midsection. You groan, forcing your eyes open; looks like you were rescued. You're in your hotel room, and it seems like you're alone. You glance over at the window, gritting your teeth as you shift your aching neck, and you nearly laugh out loud when you see that stupid little dictionary sitting on your bed.

You hear the door open, and you turn to find Polnareff stepping through the doorway. "Hey," you say, your voice quieter than you'd intended.

He looks down at the sound of your voice and grins. "Glad to have you back," he replies softly. "I'm so relieved that you're alright." He carefully sits down beside you on the bed.

"Of course I'm alright." You crack a smile. "I wasn't gonna let that asshole kill me."

Polnareff laughs a little and nods. "Yeah, he was a real piece of shit. After he - after he knocked you out, I held him off for a little while until reinforcements arrived in the forms of Star Platinum and The Fool. The three of us had him crying like a baby."

"Thank God," you sigh. "He deserved it." You both fall into a little silence, neither of you quite sure of what to say. You remember exactly what you had been about to tell Polnareff when you were attacked, but you can't muster up the courage to try again now. "Even if it got fucked up at the end, thank you for the lovely afternoon," you finally say. "I really enjoyed our little picnic."

"So did I." Polnareff starts to speak more, but something catches his eye. You watch as he reaches over you and grabs something; it's the French dictionary. He peers down at it and starts flipping through the pages. Almost instantly he looks completely affronted, and you feel a laugh rise in your chest.

"What is it?" you ask him as he scoffs, shutting the book definitively and setting it back down.

"They made that thing so difficult to understand! It's so much simpler than that makes it out to be, really!" He shakes his head, clearly disappointed with the publication, and you let a little laughter escape. "How about this." He leans in towards you. "Instead of learning out of that stupid book, I can teach you! It'll be a lot more fun."

He's just so...charming. He's always so sincere, especially with you, and the pure kindness in his eyes as he speaks nearly takes your breath away. "That - that would be fun," you reply, too taken with him to think of anything else to say.

He grins. "Good. We can have your first lesson right now."

You laugh at that, making Polnareff jump a bit. "Already? What, am I gonna get homework too?"

He joins in on your laughter and shakes his head. "No, no, it'll be quick." Something in his expression softens, and you blink as he reaches out and places his hand gently over yours. He suddenly looks a lot more serious. "Tell me what I'm saying. Je suis amoureux de toi."

You open your mouth, softly whispering the words. Your mind's nearly a total blank; it seems you really didn't learn much from that dictionary. You're at least determined to get the beginning. "Ah... Je is 'I', so je suis would be 'I am',  right?"

Polnareff nods. He wraps his hand around yours and holds it, just as he had earlier today. "Yes. Je is 'I', suis is 'am'..." He lifts his other hand and entwines it with yours. You're not sure what he's saying but you allow yourself to hope, just a little.

Polnareff's voice is hardly above a whisper as he says, "Je suis amoureux de toi - I'm in love with you."

A huge smile breaks across your face and you feel like you're floating. When Polnareff sees your reaction, his smile widens as well, and he leans down and wraps you up in a careful hug. "I love you too," you murmur in his ear; you think you might burst into tears if you try to speak any louder. "I have for a while now. I'm so happy you - " Despite your best efforts, you feel yourself start to cry. Polnareff leans back a bit, and you're almost amused to see that he's crying too. You probably look like a couple of lovesick fools, and you're so, so, happy.

"I'll never be able to show you how much you mean to me, (Y/N)," Polnareff murmurs before pressing a tender kiss to your cheek. "How much it means to me that you care."

"Of course I care," you whisper back, reaching up and running your fingers through his hair. "I care because you mean the world to me."

Polnareff looks down into your eyes, and you both take in each other's expressions. "You know, I think we're perfect for each other," he breathes, and as you start to agree, he moves forward and captures your lips in a kiss.

Nothing has ever felt more right than Polnareff's lips on yours. You wrap your arms around his back, pulling him as close as you possibly can. He parts from you for just a moment to help you sit up a bit, so that he doesn't cause the injury to your midsection any pain. You wince when a particularly sharp pang of pain hits you, and Polnareff softly runs his hand over your hair. After a moment, the feeling dissipates, and you kiss him again.

"Je t'aime," you breathe against his lips, and he smiles. You gently kiss the corner of his mouth and then rest your head on his shoulder. As he presses a kiss to the crown of your head, you whisper, "Je t'aime, je t'aime, je t'aime..."

-----

It's pitch black out as Joseph drives the group's large car down the winding roads to Cairo, with only the faint radio and Avdol's occasional snores to keep him company. He isn't exactly happy about driving in these conditions, but you had needed a few extra hours of bedrest before you could start this little road trip. Every once in a while, he glances at the back seat, and he finds you, Jotaro, and Polnareff all fast asleep.

After a couple hours of driving, Joseph hears someone stir behind him. He glances up at the rearview mirror and watches as Polnareff rubs his eyes and groggily looks to his left. You're sleeping against him, with your head on his shoulder and one arm loosely wrapped around his midsection. Polnareff's mouth turns up in a little smile, and he carefully wraps his arm around your shoulder.

"So I see everything worked out for (Y/N)," Joseph comments. Polnareff looks up at him, surprised and a little embarrassed to find he was being watched, and Joseph just laughs shortly. "I've always known you two were going to end up together. You really are a perfect fit."

Polnareff's face goes red and he looks back at you. "...Yeah. I'm really lucky."

"Oh, I know!" Joseph laughs again, startling Polnareff. "You should've seen (Y/N) last night, pouring over the French language like their life depended on it. They wanted so badly to make you happy after this hell we've been through."

Polnareff almost feels like crying again. He can't believe how truly lucky he is to have found you. "Still," Joseph says, "it's not quite over yet." Polnareff watches Joseph's expression turn somber through the rear-view mirror. "We've still got to kill Dio."

"Yeah." As he gazes down at you, so peaceful in sleep, he feels a fire light in his mind. He'd do anything to keep you alive, and while killing Dio will surely be extremely difficult, he knows he's going to do it - for Joseph, for Jotaro, for Holly Kujo, and for you. "We'll do it. We'll kill him and we'll all be fine."

"You're quite the optimist," Joseph mutters, sighing. "I try to be as well, but I'm worried that our luck so far will finally catch up to us in this final battle."

Polnareff isn't quite sure what to say, but now there's no doubt in his mind that they'll succeed in the fight against Dio. He just sighs, careful not to disturb you, and rests his head against the car window. "Do you want me to stay awake with you?" he asks Joseph.

"No, I'm fine. We'll be there pretty soon." Polnareff nods and shuts his eyes, and Joseph quickly turns his eyes back to the road.

As Polnareff begins to doze off, he gently clasps your hand in his. He hasn't had a home for a long time; ever since he lost his sister, he hasn't known that feeling of having somewhere - or someone - you truly belong with. Now, next to you, he dares to hope he's feeling it again. He's always loved you, he's realizing - you've always made him feel this way, whenever you joked around together or fought side-by-side in battle. Knowing that you feel the same was the best thing that's ever happened to him.

Just before he falls asleep, he whispers a gentle, "I love you." He holds your hand a little tighter and finally drifts off.

Joseph casts one final glance at the two of you in the back seat. Unlike Polnareff, he's a little more worried about the potential outcome of the face-off with Dio. Maybe, though, just maybe - the endless love you two possess for one another will be what wins the fight.

[lillian-nator]

Okay, so I was ranting about this briefly in the modchat - but I had this idea.

SO, you know how Techno was getting a bunch of dogs? What if one of them was used as a service dog for Tommy’s PTSD. 

The dog, named Bartholomew - courtesy of Tommy - but they call him Bart, is most often there to keep Tommy company. 

It’s been a year since Tommy has left Logstedshire, and he still can’t be alone. Every time that he is alone he starts panicking, thinking that everyone has left him, and that Dream was coming back. At the same time, when he was left alone for a while he sometimes goes back to wanting to be in the grasp of his old friend? He would sometimes sit and cry, and wish for Dream to come back. For his only friend to care for him again. 

Bart would often just hang around on those days, offering to be played with, resting his head on Tommy’s lap, and overall being a calm presence to help the boy through his loneliness.

On his worst days, as he teetered back and fourth, curled in on himself, repeating his apologies; Bart would nudge his head in the way of Tommy’s arms, making sure that his hands kept far away from his face - as Tommy often dug his hands into his skull, or buried his fist into his eyes. 

Bart could alert Tommy when the teen was exhibiting symptoms of a panic attack. Silently bouncing his leg, or picking his nails. 

Although Techno knew that it was worth it when he saw the boys eyes lit up at the dog, seeing how much better the blonde slept with the canine by is side; the real reason Techno got the pet was to put his anxious mind at ease. He had a hard time leaving Tommy alone, due to the fact that he definitely should not. He was always worried about leaving the boy alone, even months after Tommy took shelter within his walls. He was worried about what Tommy would do, if he would have a panic attack, if he would hurt himself - the list went on. But knowing that Tommy wouldn’t be as impairingly lonely, and that he couldn’t hurt himself while he was gone, enabled Techno to find some sense of normalcy, gathering supplies, going mining, and heading into town. 

That’s another thing, with the dog at the foot of his bed, or curled on his chest, Tommy slept eons better. 

One last thing that Bart helped with, was Tommy’s dependency. It didn’t take a genius to notice that Tommy’s months with Dream left him completely dependent on those around him, which is a stark contrast to his usual stubbornly independent self. Bart however, allowed Tommy to roam further, and longer. Although he would still never dream of wondering farther than the neighboring villages, the fact that Tommy could even make it that far was astounding. Techno was right healing takes time. 

[curly-bangtan]

Heatwave Drabble #9: sweet night (M)

[Heatwave // Godless // Heatwave Drabbles] <- must read first!

Pairing: Taehyung x reader

Summary: After a series of miscommunications and immaturity that lead to a rip through both your friendship and ambiguous relationship, this last turn of events could be the deciding factor of whether or not you’ve lost each other from your lives forever.

Genre: angst, smut, fwb au, roommate au, f2l

Warnings: SO much angst and feels, slight slow burner and a lot of build up, unprotected sex, hot tub, oral (m&f), food play, crying, i don’t want to give too much away eeee

Word count: 23.8k a monster i know ;-;

A/N: The end is finally here!! It’s late but trust me when I say I worked all day on this and did not do an ounce of revision today because I wanted to get this done. I’ve been writing this series, and this ending in particular, for so long and have been so nervous about getting this perfect. So please enjoy~

(quite a few ppl also couldn’t be tagged from the taglist and it’s 3am so i honestly dk how to fix it ;-;)

.

You used to think heartbreak was for the weak, after all you can only hurt as much as you let yourself be hurt. So... maybe you are weak. Because that ever-constricting ache in your chest has not diminished even a bit since that day you left him.

Four weeks. Not a word to each other.

It’s a hollowing feeling - someone you’ve had in your life every day for the past few years, a constant companion, suddenly completely absent in a blink of an eye. You don’t think you could put it into words even if you tried how this affected you. Life feels so foreign, your personality dulls.

The anger you felt for him dissipated quicker than you’d anticipated, but the anger at yourself only grew. No matter how you look at it now, you can only see it as being your fault.

But the decision to part ways was for the best, you have to keep reminding yourself. You shouldn’t be around each other anymore.

Whenever you see him around campus, you spin around and speed off the other way, hoping that he doesn’t see you too. Okay, you are weak, okay. But your heart twists at the sign of him, not just squeezes but twists into thorned knots. It’s the sort of pain that takes from you, makes you a different person unrecognisable to yourself.

You had moved in with Lotta. When she asked you what happened, all you had said was that you two had a massive fight and fell out. She knew better than to prod further from the telltale signs that you were close to tears from a simple question: the trembling throat, pursed lips, uncharacteristically quiet voice. And you were grateful because you knew you couldn’t afford to be asked about him without breaking.

The bed feels awfully cold in the nights of early February. And every night, you stare at his name on the screen of your phone, contemplating. One tap and you can hear his voice. One tap and your longing could be absolved. You always almost give in to this overpowering urge itching within your fingers. But you wouldn’t even know what to say to him.

Hi. How are you. I miss you like crazy and I think about you everyday but I know we should keep our distance but I’m just so sorry for everything.

You liked to think that maybe this break is just temporary, you both need space from each other because the toxicity built up so quickly that neither of you could think or breathe. But the longer time is spent away from him, the more you convince yourself that it wasn’t meant to be. It was never going to work; you knew this from the start but had been too optimistic.

And the mistakes you both made… You can’t forget them and the scars you’ve left on each other; you don’t think he’d be able to forgive you, not any time soon anyway.

You wonder if he’s doing the same, if he too is agonising over every wrong step he took to lead you two to this state, or if he’s cursing you for destroying everything. For his sake, you hope he’s moving on. Because that, for some reason, feels so much better than knowing that he’s crying over you.

The strange thing is that you had been the one to break things off. The look of lostness in his red-rimmed eyes laced with an unmissable reluctance will always be an enigma to you. Because he was furious, distraught. So why was he shocked by your ending? How was he not done with you?

That day you left, he wordlessly stood next to you as you packed your things. When you handed him his grey hoodie, the one you had gradually claimed as your own under mutual tacit agreement over your months together, it had truly felt like the end.

“Are... Are you sure? I don’t mind if you keep it.” He had said, voice raw from the arguing but also the tears he was fighting back.

You couldn’t look at him, you knew you would fall apart if you did. “I think it’s best if you take it back.” Why did he want you to keep it anyway?

Something was missing in both your voices when you spoke to each other, reflective of the heart-shaped void you had carved into the other. Everytime you think back to that moment, you want to kick yourself. You could have at least kept the hoodie - that way you could at least have a piece of him to cling onto in your lonely desperate nights.

Because now you have nothing. Nothing of his in your life, no reminder at all that he ever existed with you except the memories embedded so deeply in your heart that it hurts.

No one ever mentions him to you; you think they got the hint from Lotta not to. He’s a ghost.

Haunting you with his heartbroken eyes that shattered at the sight of Jimin. You’ll never forget that.

Sometimes, you’ll just be having dinner with her, and you’ll be crushed with this suffocating wave of missing him. It knocks the breath out of you. Because you can momentarily forget that it’s over, and mistaken Lotta as him. So when you look up and realise that it isn’t him, he’s not here, it’s as if someone is digging their nails into your scabbing wound and releasing the blood of your heartache once more.

And Lotta would look up and ask you, “What? Is the rice overcooked?” And you would want to cry because he would always overcook the rice.

And sometimes, you would just want to blurt it all out to her, right then and there. Tell her everything that had happened with you and him, because - god - keeping it inside is exhausting. But the words get trapped at your throat, unable to be enunciated. Which is just your forte, isn’t it? Not being able to say how you feel...

You are a competitive person, that has never been a secret. You are used to winning at everything you wish to win at, it is in your nature.

So losing Taehyung has been the biggest loss of your life. It had been a gamble from the start, whether it would work or not. There were so many signs pointing in the direction of yes, this is going to work, you love each other so much. Because still to this day, you believe that you are soulmates, and you were one step, three words, away from a happy ending. But then, caught up in this game you played, you hadn’t realised that he had been yours from the very start if you had only just accepted him. And that was your downfall: your failure to see his love for you in the form of his actions, rather than the words of validation you were seeking.

And thus, you had lost your lover, your best friend, your other half, completely of your own doing.

The realisation haunts you every night.

.

It’s Galentine’s Day. In this household, you don’t say the V word.

Lotta has booked a weekend trip to celebrate your mutual [forever alone] relationship status. Some strawberry farm in the countryside for friends to pick berries and make jam and bond over their mutual loneliness. Apparently that’s a thing nowadays.

It would have excited you before, a trip like this. The idea sounds much like a sweet attempt from her to cheer you up, (you haven’t been trying to hide how down you’ve been), so as much as you wanted to just wallow on this shitty holiday, you agreed to go with her.

And to be honest, this might be exactly what you need. A weekend away with your best friend away from the city could heal you. Best friend? Should you call her that? You’re not sure because that title has always referred to someone else previously, someone you shouldn’t be thinking about.

To your credit, you’ve been doing better. You think about him less and less each day; you stopped crying after the first week. You’ve always been a progressor with astounding growth. It’s not to say that you’re doing fine - that would be a reach - because small things such as a cup of hot chocolate would still remind you of him and the string of memories that come with it. But you think your heart is finally slowly starting to stitch itself back together.

Galentine’s weekend just so happened to fall on the weekend of Lotta’s Geophysics trip to Barcelona, as inconvenient as it is. But, rather than letting this disrupt her plans, Lotta had been adamant about going.

“My flight lands at 7am. That’s two hours before we are supposed to meet and depart from the coach station. That’s plenty of time.” She had waved away your concern when this topic of discussion came up last week.

“You never know with flight timings. We could just blow it off and have just as nice of a weekend at home watching movies.” Strawberry picking sounds great for the soul, but so does Netflix and ice cream. “We could have a Saw marathon like we’ve been wanting to.”

“Saw marathon on Valentine’s day?” Lotta scoffed at your suggestion

You blinked. “What’s wrong with that? We love scary films, it’s our thing.”

“It doesn’t matter, I’ve already paid for the trip and it’s non-refundable.”

“I’ll subsidise the cost, there’s no point forcing this trip if it won’t work with your schedule. You haven’t even let me pay you back for my half of the trip yet.” Lotta is like that with money, overly generous when completely unasked for. If you don’t mention paying her back, she would never have asked you to.

“It’s my treat to you, shut up. Just trust me, Y/N, I’ll make it to the coach on time, I always make it on time.” She shook you by the shoulders. “We’ll make our separate ways to the meeting point Saturday morning and everything else will go smoothly. There’s no reason to cancel the trip. Plus, V day is on Sunday, so do you really want to see all those shitty ass rom-com Netflix suggestions or would you rather be enjoying the great outdoors? Trust, we need a break in the countryside. It’s going to be an amazing weekend, you’ll thank me later.”

Right now, as you make a final check through your lightly-packed bag before you leave the house, you find yourself agreeing. You do need the fresh naturally strawberry-scented air to expel all these negativity from you. You want to feel yourself again, be happy and loud and excitable.

Collecting for your trip ticket that Lotta had left on your desk before she went to Barcelona, you decide right now that: yes, this will be an amazing weekend. Law of attraction and power of manifestation. Lotta’s flight will be punctual and you will make some fond memories together.

You’ll be okay.

You arrive at the meeting spot twenty minutes early because you are known to be prone to tardiness. The tour guide welcomes you keenly. He is a young, twenty-something you reckon, tall man, graced with dimples and honey skin. You think you would find him attractive in different circumstances, but you haven’t gotten to the stage of feeling attraction for anyone else yet.

“Your ticket with the barcode, miss?” His smile is charming, you guess. It’s more an observation than an enticing quality. You hand it over to him wordlessly and watch him scan the creased piece of paper. “Great, that’s perfect. And your partner?”

“Partner?” You frown, but realise what he means. This is a Galentine’s programme, of course he expects you not to be alone. “Oh, she should be coming, we came separately because she’s just getting off a flight right now.”

“Oh! That’s very sweet of her to rush back to spend this weekend with you.” The endearment in his smile heightens.

“Yeah… She’s the best.” There’s no particular reason for your awkwardness. You’ve always been a social butterfly, yet lately, you’re keeping more to yourself, avoiding unnecessary conversations because your mind is always too preoccupied.

“I am Jae, by the way, and I’ll be your guide for the weekend. I hope you have a wonderful time with us this Valentine's day. Hop on board.” Giving him a polite nod, you climb onto the empty bus, noting the swirly hearts beside the large red words ‘STRAWBERRY LOVE’ on the side of the big white vehicle. Kind of tacky, but the idea of this programme is kind of cute so you guess it’s suiting. After assessing row after row, you plop down at a window seat you deem worthy and settle your bag on the seat beside you, head leaning on the glass as you await your partner.

Dear partner, please don’t be late, you text her.

Soon, other participants of this trip start arriving, filing a crooked queue in front of the tour guide to register. You don’t pay much attention to them except to examine for Lotta’s face. The coach is set to leave at 9:00 on the dot in order to arrive at the farm at noon, it is now 8:56 and Lotta is still not here. You don’t want to lose faith in manifestation magic, but worry is settling in. If it comes down to it, you will beg Jae to wait for you. With your texts unread, you decide to phone her.

Come on… Just let this one weekend go smoothly for you.

Nervously playing with the ends of your hair, you exhale in relief when she picks up. “Oh thank god, Lotta. Where are you? The coach is leaving in like two minutes. You’ve landed right? I’m not sure if I can convince the people to wait for you that long but worse comes to worse, I could ask for the address of the farm and you can commute there yourself. ” A silence replies after your slur of panicked words. “Hello? Dude, hurry.”

“Wait, so he’s not there yet?” She asks hesitantly.

“Who? The tour guide? No, he’s here. Where are you?” Just then you hear a thunder of running footsteps. Expectantly, you look out the bus window for your friend’s arrival, only to find…

“Wait, Lotta… What the fuck did you do?” Something drops in your stomach.

“Look Y/N, don’t be mad. This is for your own good, you need this.” You can practically hear her stealthy smile through the phone.

An icy chill strikes down your spine. You simply cannot believe what you are seeing out the window. She-

“Lotta…”

“Trust me, okay? You have been so fucking depressed the past month. You need to fix this problem, please. I hate seeing you like this, so if not for yourself, then do it for me.” There’s some guilt in her tone, you’ll give her that. But you are in a state of utter disbelief, borderline shell-shocked, the groves of your brain tangled in itself.

“Lotta, where are you? Are you even fucking coming?” Absolute mortification fills your chest to the brim at your gradual realisation of her ploy.

This can’t be happening.

“I promise, this is all for your own good. Please have a great weekend. I love you. Bye!” And with that she hangs up, leaving you wide-eyed, jaw-dropped, staring out the window...

At a panting, slightly sweat-beaded Taehyung handing his crumpled ticket to Jae.

“Made it just in time, mate.” You can just about make out Jae’s words from the shape of his mouth as he greets Taehyung and proceeds to recite his ‘I’m your tour guide for the trip’ speech. Taehyung nods interestedly, reciprocating with that sheepish smile of his as he scratches the back of his bedhead.

What did your best friend do? Did she just… set you up…? As you hear his loud unmissable steps stomping up onto the coach, you know you’re doomed. It’s over for you. You might as well fling yourself off a cliff.

Looking around the bus, you realise that it of course is completely full except for the seat beside you.

The power of manifestation is fucking bullshit. You’re stuck with this bad luck for the rest of your life.

And this weekend, you’re going to die.

You see him as a blur at the start of the aisleway, a mere figure in swatches of peach and brown and black. You hear pounding, a booming pulse in your ear.

It’s Taehyung. Taehyung. Your, but also not your, Taehyung.

Each step he takes approaching the only available seat he sees, you shrink lower in yours and keep your eyes pressed shut, but for what reason you’re not entirely sure. There’s no hiding now.

Your confrontation is inevitable, a few steps away. Then he finally sees you.

“Y-Y/N?”

Your heart soars to your throat at the sound of his voice as everything around you vanishes. This can’t be real.

Slowly, you turn up to face him. When your eyes meet, it’s like someone has driven a sharp object into your chest and twisted. His face is exactly how you remember, but also not quite. His big brown eyes are wide with surprise in a pitiful expression of bewilderment. His sleep rumpled hair, grown out to almost cover his eyes, yet still very much permed in the style you loved. His lips are jutting out, slightly parted in confusion at your unexpected presence that reminds you of how it felt to kiss him.

And the look of disgust that you had expected - absent.

You want to throw your arms around him. There is always a warmth emitting from Taehyung - the kind of warmth you feel when you enter your house on a snow ridden day and the gust of heat accompanied by the smell of home simply swallows you like a wave. But there is also something different, unfamiliar almost, about him. He is rougher round the edges, hints of facial hair dotted below his nose, dressed in slacks that he only usually wore strictly as pyjamas and never to go outside in.

As your eyes fall to the rest of him, you notice his fists tighten around the straps of his backpack, the balls of his knuckles whitening.

“Taehyung-” Saying his name feels like a release. A rush of satisfaction at the way the syllables roll off your tongue so naturally, then a flood of emotion that comes with all the memories his name invokes.

Then you’re at a loss for words again. You are so utterly unprepared for this situation because you didn’t think you would meet him again so soon, not until you’ve moved on. You’re not ready to face him.

What do you say? How are you meant to act around him?

He looks equally as lost, though you read him easily. There’s a flash of hurt in his eyes, the same that you’re sure you had. But it dissolves much quicker with him, almost into relief and content as if he’s glad to see you.

You know from the slight downward angle his brows are pointing that he has definitely missed you. Perhaps in a completely different way from you missing him, but he’s missed you.

“If I could just have everybody's attention!” Jae’s voice booms from the speaker, startling every passenger. “Young man over there, please be seated.” You quickly snatch your bag into your lap to let Taehyung sit next to you. The seats aren’t the most spacious; despite pressing your side against the window as much as you can, Taehyung’s shoulder comes brushing past yours as he settles into his own seat. Your heart flutters. “As all our participants are now present, our ride will begin immediately. The duration of the ride will be three hours, but a pitstop will be made at around halfway for a quick snack or toilet break. Please ensure all seatbelts are fastened during the entirety of our journey...” He drones on.

Three hours, you bristle. Everything is happening all at once and your mind can’t catch up. You’re going to be stuck on this coach for three hours next to Taehyung. No, worse. You’re stuck with Taehyung for this whole weekend in a strawberry farm.

Glancing over, his lips are pressed into a thin line, no doubt with the same chaotic thoughts racing through his mind. There isn’t much leg room, and though his thighs are purposely clamped together to avoid touching you, you know he can’t keep them clamped this tightly for three hours without cramping. Your legs are going to touch at some point.

God, why are you even losing your mind over something so juvenile? You’ve been reduced to a pre-teen girl so easily flustered by the thought of touching thighs amidst this turn of events.

Everything is gonna be okay, you tell yourself. This is gonna be fine. You don’t have to speak to each other. Just put in your earphones and fall asleep against the window.

But you have so many questions, for Lotta, for Taehyung. Did she plan this? How did she know that he’d be here? Hell, did he know you’d be here? No, there’s no way. The shock on his face was genuine.

He stares ahead, though visibly extremely puzzled. You suppress the urge to glance over at him every second to check that it’s really him.

“Thank you everyone for joining us so promptly. As you already know, I am Jae and I will be the guide to your trip to our beautiful strawberry farm over this Valentine’s weekend.” You pause. Right, this is a Valentine’s weekend trip, you had momentarily forgotten. And you’re stuck with Taehyung here. Two days, two nights. You’re not sure if you could withstand his presence for that long. Will you ignore each other for the entirety of this trip? You would be fine with that, and in all honesty, you think you might prefer it over speaking to him because that would only sprinkle salt on your wound.

A sharp pain in your palm reminds you that you’ve been gripping onto the programme leaflet that was handed to you. You smooth out the creases of the paper and flip it open to skim through what you have to tackle ahead of you.

Day 1: Go strawberry picking with your partner at our scenic farm in the lovely spring weather while the sun is out. A heavenly spa awaits you afterwards to wind down and indulge together. For an amorous evening, go stargazing under our cloudless skies...

Alarm bells start ringing immediately, from the cursive font of the strangely-worded phrases, to the shades of reds and pinks of the background. You skim further down the page, the kernel of anxiety growing exponentially at your throat.

Day 2: Make delicious strawberry jam and learn our signature recipe for a splendid strawberry tart. When dusk falls, enjoy a romantic candlelit dinner with your partner amidst the symphonies of our string quartet.

Fuck. Wait, what the fuck.

You flip back to the front page.

Strawberry Love: The Perfect Couple’s Romantic Getaway Valentine’s Weekend

Strawberry… Love…

“What the fucking shit?” You can’t help but cry out loud. Lotta- She-

The passengers of the bus all turn to shoot you at look of concern at your outburst, Taehyung included. His eyes dart around the features of your face to search for an answer. “What’s wrong?”

What’s wrong… What’s wrong…? What isn’t wrong at this point?

You feel defeated, absolutely fucking defeated that you don’t even have it in your to be shocked or angry. There is no way you can ignore him for the whole weekend when the programme of your trip - a couple’s Valentine’s trip - obligates you to spend time with him. The thought of making stupid little strawberry tarts with Taehyung… Your blood can’t even boil, you’re just fucking speechless.

Lotta, that conniving genius that is your best friend. How did she manage to pull this all off? Galentine’s trip your fucking ass. She tricked you into a romantic holiday with Taehyung, fucking hell...

But that means - she knows. The mortification hammers into your stomach. There’s no reason for her to do this other than for the purpose of getting you two to make up. Lotta fucking knew about you and Taehyung.

How? For how long? And why does she think that this will benefit you in any way? You and Taehyung are over and you were slowly (fine, excruciatingly slowly) moving on. Until now.

Letting out a huff of your frustration, you turn to look at Taehyung, properly look him in the eye for the first time. You can’t stop your chest from constricting. He regards you with that confused expression of his, eyes holding your glare but barely just, bashful from your sudden undivided attention channeled towards him. “I need to know what you’re doing here first.” It comes out harsher than you mean for it to, but it stems from your desperation to stay inert while your emotional sanity is precariously threatened right now.

“Me? I… Well, Lotta told me that she had a ticket for this weekend-trip to a strawberry farm type thing that she couldn’t go to anymore, so she asked if I wanted to go in her place because she knows that I like strawberries.” He furrows his brows. “Okay, that sounds really stupid out loud but I swear I didn’t know that you were gonna be here.” He throws his hands up, nothing but honesty flooding his chocolate eyes.

But of course, Taehyung doesn’t lie, you are sure from the times you’ve witnessed him not being able to muster up an excuse to get rid of an annoying relative on the phone. What’s more convincing of his truth is that he would not be the most difficult person to fall victim to Lotta’s scheme - drizzle in mentions of food and he is completely your pawn. You almost feel bad for this unsuspecting fool; he still has no idea.

But Lotta, that sly bitch… You are going to wrangle her when you get back.

“Taehyung… She lied to you.” You sigh, watching his features slowly contort in deeper confusion.

“Wait what? So we’re not going to a strawberry farm?” He sits up in alarm, looking around the bus as if that would grant him any insight whatsoever. You almost laugh at his naivety because as much as you want to uphold your cold exterior, something about him, his ever present innocent boyishness maybe, never fails to penetrate through to you.

“No, that’s not what I meant. She lied to me too; she told me that this would be a girl’s trip because we’re both single and bitter for Valentine’s. Get it? It was just a setup. For you and me.”  As the clockwork finally turns as he processes your words, a visibly distressed grimace forms. “Look at the programme, Taehyung, it freaking says: Strawberry Love: The Perfect Couple’s Romantic Getaway Valentine’s Weekend!”

As those words resonate from your mouth and the realisation finally dawns on him, dread settles itself in the pit of your stomach, cold, dry and coarse. Saying it aloud somehow finalises it - this is actually happening, you’re going to have to spend this weekend with the one person you’d least like to be stranded with right now.

“Lotta… But why would she…?” Deep red roses effloresce across the apples of his cheeks, and you feel yourself unconsciously mirroring his reaction as your mind flashes back to the planned activities of this tour. You’ll be made to pick berries and bake pastries together. And the romantic candlelit dinner… You can’t even finish that thought. Because even now, you find your eyes roaming every inch of his face, trying to memorise his details because it’s been so long.

This isn’t healthy for your heart. You were on a path of recovery, a path of forgetting him and forgiving yourself, and now you’ve been flung back to square one.

The bus jolts. His leg lightly knocks into yours and both your attentions momentarily divert to the touch, glaring at where the thick grey material of his joggers meets the thin cotton of your trousers. A long second passes before Taehyung lifts it away from you.

“I don’t know why she’d do this. All I told her was that we had a massive falling out.” You mutter. Except you do know, you know her very well. This was no mistake, but the result of careful planning. She knew exactly what she was doing.

“So maybe she’s trying to get us to reconcile?”

As soon as those words come out, you both seem to freeze in your spots, blinking in bewilderment at the slightest mention of the elephant in the room. It might be wishful thinking but you hear a sliver of hope in his question, and you think he hears how it came out too.

Reconcile.

Could the two of you reconcile after everything you put each other through in your last few days together? The thought tears you apart emotionally. Of course you want to reconcile, of course you want to be with him. But haven’t you proven enough that what you had didn’t work? Afterall, everything you had together came crumbling down at the smallest hitch in your path. What is there to reconcile but a dysfunctional relationship?

And how could either of you forget the torment you endured? The noises of Taehyung with another woman through the thin walls, your betrayal of his heart when you mistakenly slept with Jimin.

Reconciliation doesn’t seem possible in the foreseeable future.

“N-not reconcile in that way, I mean, like, for us to make up.” Taehyung stammers, hand waving about in his nervous state. “I mean- no, not make up, but like… make… peace. Yeah, make peace. Sorry.” He winces timorously at his spectacular fumble of words. It’s surprising how nervous and timid he is acting. He should be brutish to you, savage and hostile. But he isn’t.

“Yeah, I got what you mean… Don’t worry.” You can’t stop the corners of your lips from turning up, just a fraction. “But yeah, I think she wants us to make peace.” You conveniently do not bring up how you’re certain that she knows about your history and that this holiday she booked for you and Taehyung is most definitely for the purpose of reconciliation in that way.

“Right.” His bottom lip pinched between his teeth in a manner that makes it feel as though it’s a sight you shouldn’t be looking at, Taehyung’s attention shifts down to avoid your eye. Though, there’s a clear glimmer of expectation as he asks, “So… do you want to talk it out?”

The bus bounces, violently this time, as it drives over what must be a pebble. It rattles your thoughts so physically that you have to grip onto your trousers for support.

This is the deciding moment. Now is when you can choose how you go about this which will determine the rest of your weekend together.

Do you want to talk it out?

The painful memory of the last time you had tried to “talk it out” rakes its claws down your back. All the yelling, the hurtful accusations hurled both ways, the reluctance to accept blame… It haunts you so much so that your voices still ring in your mind, echoes embedding the misery you had both felt and inflicted deep in your bones.

The three stages of your fight painted clairvoyantly in your mind.

One: The Hurting Each Other.

You fuck guys without learning their names.

Two: The Guilt-Tripping.

I didn’t sleep with her. I couldn’t even kiss her for more than a minute on her bed because it felt so wrong it made me fucking sick. I stayed on her couch and thought about you all fucking night. Happy?

Three: The Falling Apart

I… I thought it was clear how I felt…

Always replaying in a loop.

“I’m not sure what there is to talk out.” You say, hating how callous you sound but knowing that it’s a necessary evil to convey your intent. That was in the past. Taehyung is your past. Talking about it would only drag you back into that perpetual cycle and there’s not much left in you to afford that. You look out the window at the open plains of grassland to avoid the hurt you know he can’t hide on his face. “I think it’s better if we keep our distance as much as possible and not make it difficult for ourselves.”

“Okay.” You hear him reply, but only a quiet mumble. From the faint reflection of the window, you see him tighten his jaw and fit his Airpods into his ears. The monster that is your guilt and bitterness sinking its fangs into your throat.

It’s better this way.

And so the bus continues to speed off to the countryside, driving you further and further from civilization and your chance of escape from this doomed weekend with the boy you’re trying to stop loving.

.

You wake up to someone gently shaking your shoulders. “Miss…” You jolt upright.

The first thing that elucidates in your sleep-fogged vision is your tour guide’s kind face smiling down at you. The second, when you come to your senses, is that you are leaning against Taehyung’s frame, his shoulders much harder than you remember them to be. The boy himself is fast asleep beside you, arm loosely linked with yours because you know he has a habit of holding things in his sleep. You hastily pull away.

“We’ve arrived, Miss.” Jae says politely, that humoured glow in his pupils eliciting a bashful blush from you.

“Oh right.” You look around to find the coach empty except for the three of you. “That’s embarrassing, I’m sorry.” The last thing you remember was the angry texts you spammed Lotta with before the songs in your playlist all blurred into one.

“No worries. Forgive me, I’m still learning names.” The heat of the sun is seeping through the glass of the windowpane, licking tenderly at your skin to rouse you awake. “I’ve tried to wake your partner, but it seems...”

“I’m Y/N. And don’t worry, he’s impossible to wake up.” You pause. There is a chance for you to rectify his misconception that you and Taehyung are a couple, except it would probably require some explaining or white-lying and now is not a great time if you’re holding up the whole group. “I’ll do it.”

Despite the conversation being had right over him, Taehyung shows no sign of his slumber being disturbed. His head is tipped back, mouth hanging open with a small dribble of drool beading at the corner of his mouth. Still the same deep-sleeping idiot.

“Oi.” You nudge his ribcage, scaring Jae with your coarseness. “Wake up, Taehyung.”

Nothing but heavy breathing.

“Dude, we’re here.” You grab his face between your harsh fingers and begin shaking vigorously.

Not even a stir. You remember how you used to like to joke that Taehyung could sleep through a burglary, and just to prove your point, you woke up in the middle of the night one time and screamed at the top of your lungs. He did not even move a toe.

“Uh-” There is a hint of worry in Jae’s face; perhaps he thinks that Taehyung has a health condition.

“It’s okay, I’ve got the trick.” This time, you pinch his nose with considerable force and clamp your palm over his mouth, ignoring the smoothness of his skin under your touch and the feeling of his lips skimming your palm. You glance up to find Jae’s eyes almost bulging out of their sockets, swaying uneasily at your method to wake him. “Don’t worry, it works every time.”

But true to your word, in a few seconds, Taehyung is sputtering for breath, eyes flying open in befuddlement, scrambling to sit up. You let go of his nose and smile at your tour guide only to find him petrified.

“What?” In disarray, Taehyung wipes at the corner of his mouth and pats his hair back down from its messy temperment. His heavy body no longer slumped against yours, you feel a weight lifted off your chest, though the fact that you had fallen asleep on each other plays at your mind, lingering to taunt you.

“We’ve arrived.” Jae winces.

You stare at the patterned seats of the coach, trying not to pay attention to Taehyung’s embarrassed apology and explanation on what a deep sleeper he is. You’re not going to think about Taehyung and sleeping. Mindlessly, you trail behind the banter men off the vehicle. You’re not going to think about how good it feels to sleep beside him.

The sun greeting you when you step foot onto ground instantly refreshes your mood, banishing away those thoughts that were slipping through the cracks. There’s something so healing about the air of the countryside, fresh and unpolluted and full of the pleasant crisp scent that one would associate with green and yellow. Staring back at you is a seemingly endless field of bushes dotted with red, the sweet berry smell already perfusing into your nose.

You ignore the crunch of gravel sounding from Taehyung’s steps not far from you and proceed to join the waiting crowd, their phones out to capture the stunning scenery.

As everyone gathers, it’s difficult to concentrate on Jae’s briefing of the weekend planned ahead, starting with an introduction to the farm which you frankly do not care to learn about. You try not to glance over at Taehyung at the corner of your eye, at how his hair is still sticking out awkwardly in the back, his eyes slightly swollen from sleep. You try not to notice his hesitancy, standing a distance from you despite everyone else standing in their couples.

It’s like a buzzing in the back of your mind, a constant tug at your consciousness, not allowing you to relax as much as you want to in this serene environment. You want to stop thinking about him but you can’t.

“In February, the weather is set to be nice and warm during the day and slightly chilly in the evenings, so I do hope that you have packed sufficiently as stated in the email. Now, if you look to your left...” Jae’s monologue drones on like white noise, because all you can focus on is not focusing on Taehyung.

Lotta has not replied to your hounding messages with anything of use, no answers to your plethora of questions. Just relax. Stop making such a big deal out of it, grow up and make up with him because you clearly aren’t over him. You wanted to tell her that things are not that simple, she doesn’t know how badly you both fucked up. Yet, you know her response would only be some pretentiously worded reply full of the condescending wisdom it always contains when she’s telling you off.

You’ll admit it, as stubborn as you are, Lotta’s advice is right 9 times out of 10. She was right when she said you shouldn’t have gone with Taehyung to Mykonos within two weeks of knowing him because he could have been a killer or psychopath. She was right when she pointed out that you act like Taehyung annoys the living shit out of you but you secretly care deeply for him.

But she’s definitely not right this time, you are adamant about it. It would be a miracle if you and Taehyung could even be friends within the next six months, let alone… And if anything were to happen, setting you two up on a romantic holiday together is certainly the wrong way to go about it. It feels so inorganic, like you’re forced to spend time with each other.

Out of habit, you steal a glance at him. It’s not a surprise to find him not paying an ounce of attention to Jae either. Taehyung is staring off into the strawberry field, face angled away from you such that the sunlight is hitting his skin in all the right places to glaze a golden aura over him.

It’s strange to see such a permanent sadness in his eyes, a melancholic nostalgia. You hate yourself - you did this to him, you broke him. Does he hate you? Resent you? You think you’d rather he did.

Soon, the group of you are whisked away down a pebbly path to a rustic looking hotel beside the farm where you will all stay in. It’s not the old run-down type of rustic, but more the luxurious kind that very evidently serves an aesthetic purpose. And that’s when you begin to notice, this “farm” is not really a farm at all, but more a boujee farm-themed resort. This trip could certainly not have been cheap. As much as you are here against your will, you can’t help but feel immense gratitude to Lotta for her willingness to spend such money on you.

You are stopped at a grand lobby, the style of which resembling a small piazza of Southern Italy - warm neutral-toned Roman concrete walls with a green flourish of vines and bushes. It’s absolutely stunning, a surreal setting that you only see in movies. It’s impossible not to feel the air of romance circulating this architecture. You glance over to find him, stood an awkwardly respectful distance away from you, gaping around at the interior of the building in awe. He is a sucker for art, especially architecture. You almost wish you were friends again only to hear him gush about the beauty of this place.

When Jae begins to hand out room keys, it suddenly occurs to you, perhaps the worst aspect of your predicament this weekend - you are sharing a room with Taehyung.

You are sharing a…

Heart sinking, you look over again to see if the same thought has dawned on him. It has. His eyes are fixed on Jae in an eerily blank way, his jaw tense, a single bead of sweat trickling down the side of his forehead which you will excuse as the heat.

When Jae approaches you, Taehyung automatically joins your side in a dazed worry. Eye contact made was brief, not enough for you two to communicate whether or not you tell Jae that this was all a mistake and you would much rather be apart.

“Here you go, Y/N.” Your guide flashes you that charming grin of his as he waves your keycards before you. Instinctively, you receive it in your palm. “You guys have got the deluxe suite - wonderful choice.”

“We-” You begin, but he doesn’t seem to take notice. You’re starting to notice that he perhaps likes the sound of his own voice a bit too much.

“As I said, strawberry-picking will start at half past so that gives you a bit of time to drop off your luggage and freshen up after the long ride.” He continues. This will probably be the only chance you get to tell him that you and Taehyung aren’t a couple before it becomes too late, and you’re going to miss this opportunity because of another one of his monologues. The desperate itch in your chest grows an uncomfortable size. “Please meet here at the reception on time. And as for your luggage - oh, I see you two are lightly-packed. Low maintenance, my favourite type of people. In that case, your room is on the ground floor, if you follow that lovely couple down that corridor over there.”

And just like that, he smiles, retracts his extended arm pointing towards the direction of your room and turns to guide another couple.

“Wai-” You call after him weakly, but he has once again launched into the same speech he’d recited to you to a new audience.

And there goes your chance of rectifying this weekend.

You stand there for a good minute, mind trying to piece together how, just how, you will manage to survive this weekend. Taehyung is quiet beside you, equally as baffled at what to do.

“Should we head to our room then…” He mutters after too long a moment of unmoving stature. “I kinda want to change into some lighter clothes and we don’t have that long.”

You nod without looking at him. Because you can’t stand looking at his face right now, the face that you’ll be stuck with for these two days, the face that you love.

Silence between you now grows more familiar as you walk wordlessly to your room, the round corner of the plastic keycard digging hard into your palm. It’s painfully awkward. Your echoing steps provide the only stable rhythm against the storm between you.

Beep. The door opens at your will with a swipe of the card.

You weren’t prepared for what exactly the deluxe room entails. Its size could easily be a tiny studio apartment: a small seating area consisting of a pearly white sofa and a glass coffee table so delicately built that you would not trust yourself near; a mini-kitchen on the left side of the room accompanied by a generously stocked beverage bar; a king-sized bed in the far right wine-red in colour and excessively buried in frivolous cushions. But the belle of the ball is really the glass panelled-wall at the back of the room that you face as you enter, spanning from ceiling to floor, opening up to the patio hand-plucked out of your dreams. Rose bushes, circular beige woven garden daybed, and not to mention the hot tub.

You are completely in awe. Your mind instantly flashes to Mykonos. This luxury is the furthest from a farm experience whatsoever. It really explains how every couple on this trip looks like the child of a wealthy politician with their finely manicured hands and sickly cologne.

“Woah.” An octave deeper than usual, Taehyung expresses his wonder as he surveys the extravagance that is your room. “This… How much must this have cost?”

“I have no idea.” You whisper, still in your state of near speechlessness while your feet take you to the glass wall.

This is a place of romantic films, a place for honeymoons. Everything is in a rose-gold tint, glistening almost mockingly under the soft February sun. Why are you here? You almost hear the slabs of sandstone ask.

Behind you, you hear him huff out the marvel that he is submerged in. His backpack slides off his shoulder, swung carelessly towards the loveseat. And plop he goes, starfished onto the bed.

Then the fear returns, reclaims its usual residence in your throat. As you pry your eyes away from the opulence of the veranda to look at Taehyung, his head lifts up at the same moment. The short-lived mist that clouded over your reality finally disperses.

You blink again at his sprawled out limbs. He blinks back.

It is as if a switch has flipped, the speed at which he jumps back onto his two feet, fright jarring his mouth agape. “I’llsleeponthesofa.” The slur of his words are unintelligible to your ears, but his display of alarm is almost comical, threatening a smile from the corners of your lips at the hysteria of your situation despite the same alarm you are experiencing.

“What?”

“I’ll sleep on the sofa.” His voice is firmer the second time he says it, tilting his chin up as if to reassure you of his confidence.

“It’s okay, I’ll sleep on the sofa.” You sigh because you know how much Taehyung is bursting to sleep in a king-sized bed. It was his first time in Mykonos, and you had not heard the end of how it was the best sleep he’s had in his lifetime. So imagine him now.

He bristles, a genuine look of offence fleets. “Of course not, I can’t allow that.”

“Why not?” Your tone with him is foreign, lacking the playfulness it once had - just an aloof callousness.

“‘Coz! I’m not gonna let you take the couch while I sleep on this massive bed.” He gestures at the couch for emphasis, letting his arm dangle afterwards. He is less different with you than you are with him, you note.

“You just answered my question with the very statement I was questioning you on.” You cross your arms and lean against the glass, allowing the warmth to bask through your shirt.

Taehyung frowns and mirrors your action, the muscle of his bicep flexing more than usual from the agitation in his motion. “‘Coz you’re a light sleeper. Just stop being stubborn and take the bed.”

You’re not quite sure why, of all things, ‘you’re a light sleeper’ is what moves you. The consideration he still holds for you inhibits any protest you wish to sound.

He cares about you, he clearly still does. Just like how you would willingly give up the bed for him.

God, you don’t want to fucking be here. You wish it didn’t have to be so painful, every single little interaction between you just reminding you again and again of how much you loved and hurt each other.

Taehyung takes your silence as compliance and begins to unpack, ruffling through his bag for a change of cooler clothes with his shoulders tense in discomfort. You know what the mature person in you should say: we can just share the bed. But you can’t think of a single reason why that would be a good idea.

With this Valentine’s trip completely planned for you two, it feels like the universe presenting you with an undeniable temptation. Everything around you is telling you to just get back with him, to give in to your inhibitions and fall back into him. You’ve got the champagne in the cooler, hot tub in the patio, rose petalled bed all laid out in front of you at your disposal. An inner voice chanting make up, make up, make up. Because what’s stopping you?

What’s stopping you is that look on his face when he saw Jimin fixing the back of his shoe beside you as you were walking him out. What’s stopping you is the sound of another girl moaning his name right down the hall from you.

So maybe some could see it as strength for resisting the yearning, for being able to put up a front and speak to him so indifferently. But you see it as weakness, because you still cannot move on.

.

Despite the sun blazing down your back, the cool gust of spring weather eases what otherwise would have been scorching heat. Never would you anticipate that you would be spending this weekend sifting through strawberry bushes to find large red ripe summer fruit, yet here you are. You don’t even think it’s strawberry season.

You’ve never been a country girl, but the dirt feels strangely comforting under your nails. Well, comforting is perhaps not the best word to describe your state of mind right now. As much tranquility as this farm is bringing you, with Taehyung always no more than two metres away from you, you don’t think you could ever relax.

In black sports shorts, plucking his own berries on the other side of the same very row of bushes, sweat trickling along the veins of his neck… Of course your attention is scattered.

Not to mention, you keep catching his shifting eyes. You thought you ought to say something, but what exactly? The awkwardness is prominent as it is.

A heavy exhale. You find a particularly large berry, leaves curling upwards to indicate its ripeness as the strawberry expert (yes, strawberry expert) had taught you. Pluck. And off it goes into your basket.

This is definitely therapeutic. You imagine every strawberry to be your feelings for Taehyung. This one over here shall symbolise his musky scent that you fall asleep to. Pluck. This one, his stupidly attractive perm, so long that even you would tell him to trim it because it’s covering his eyes. Pluck. His eyes… Especially when he’s confused as he makes that wide-eyed puppy dog face, which is very often. Pluck.

You glance up, you can’t help it.

And he’s already looking at you. Caught red-handed, literally red-handed because his hands are somehow stained with strawberry juice. Instantly he whips his head back down at his basket that is rested by his crouching knees, though there is not much in there for him to look at.

“Stop making this weirder than it already is.” He almost jumps when you speak, clearly not expecting any sort of interaction from your end.

Slowly, he glances back up at you, dark wavy fringe swaying from the slow tilt of his head. “I- Sorry, I wasn’t- Um, I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

There’s something quite breathtaking about Taehyung under the sun, the way the rays reflect off his honey-tan skin to give an effulgent finish like a marble statue of some Ancient Roman God worshipped by priests and maidens. The coat of sweat gathered at his cupid’s bow could possibly be your undoing.

You love him, despite all the strawberries symbolic of his traits that you were picking.

And you hate yourself for that. You don’t want to feel like this anymore. You’re so sick of this heavily-hearted feeling of being dragged down by your emotions all the fucking time. You want to be able to look at him and feel nothing, look at him and not be intruded by the echoes of that night.

It makes you sick, the thought of him inside someone else. Physically sick to the core.

“Well, you are. So stop looking at me.” You state coldly. You just want to forget everything and let go of him, but his presence is not letting you do so. If being a bitch is what it takes, you’ll gladly be a bitch

“No, you have dirt on your face.”

Embarrassment slams into you like a wave, wielding you to shut your eyes and take a deep breath of humiliation. It’s instant karma for being a bitch. “Oh.” You say, carelessly wiping all over your cheeks with the back of your wrist, more with the intention of hiding the rush of blood to your face than to actually clean. You keep your eyes trained on a tiny pale berry in the bush, hoping that he’ll look away from you.

But he doesn’t. “You’re smearing it.” You look up to find his lips drawn in a tight line in attempt to hide his amusement. Everything is just working out wonderfully for you, isn’t it? Yet before your mind can process it, he rises from his crouch and leans over the short bushes.

When his thumb meets your cheek, it almost sears you. As his eyes are focused on the dirt on your face he’s brushing away, yours are locked on his gaze - gentle, warm, familiar. The collar of his shirt droops low, exposing his chiseled collar bones, protruding so enticingly as if for the sole purpose to catch your attention and remind you that it was one of your favourite places to bury your nose in.

Taehyung’s touch is heartbreakingly gentle; the rest of his fingers come under the side of your jaw for support, though only fleetingly. The whole exchange is brief, the dirt brushed away as swiftly as your relationship had crumpled.

You feel it in your nose first, that overwhelming wave of sadness, and then behind your eyes. You want to cry. You want to cry as he pulls away, as he realises that he has unconsciously acted out of familiarity, as a shyness reaches his eyes when he meets your glare.

It was only a mindless sweep of his thumb on your face, yet its impact is explosive under your skin, reminiscent of a time when such a touch had different implications, elicited a different response.

You quickly blink it away - the tears, but not the heartache. That wretched feeling in your throat does not permit you to thank him, so you just stare at each other, the world around you a mere blur of blues and greens. You watch his chest rise as he sucks in for air, wondering if the same memories are now visiting, no, haunting, him.

You can’t do this because you’re not strong enough. For you whole act of indifference in front of him, your constant resisting against the urge to fall back into him, you’re still not strong enough.

But to your surprise, or perhaps even gratitude, he’s the one who picks up his basket and paces away without another word. You watch the back of his calves, the slosh of his overgrown hair, as he walks away.

.

You stare out the glass door at the patio. It’s dark, you can scarcely see a thing with the lights outside switched off. It acts as a perfect canvas for your imagination, for scenes of your past together to materialise before you.

It’s not been a full day yet, and you already feel so drained. This is impossible. You want to call Lotta to pick you up, but upon deeper consideration, you don’t think you have the heart to. This must have cost her a considerable amount of money to book. She had the full intention that this will bring you and Taehyung back together, yet it is doing everything but. You don’t want to imagine her disappointment when you return in streams of tears.

After the session of strawberry-picking, your baskets were handed over for your fruits to be washed and prepared for your baking class tomorrow. Following that is your free time, when you are left to your own devices, at liberty to roam around the farm, dine at their organic restaurant by the hotel. Taehyung had taken Jae’s recommendation of visiting the spa; you opted to stroll (sulk) about, as far away from him as possible.

It’s unhealthy, this continuous bombardment of thoughts of him. Your month’s worth of progress has reduced to ashes.

Maybe you don’t even actually have feelings for him anymore. It could purely be a deception of the closeness you’ve developed for each other that you mistaken for love. You had spent almost every single day of the past two and a half years together, under the same roof, sharing a bed towards the last few months. It’s the safety and intimacy that your brain associates him with that forbids you from moving on.

Maybe you’re actually over him romantically. But the wanting, the missing him as your best friend still lingers.

The door to your room opens abruptly. Hair damp, Taehyung strolls inside in a white bathrobe and slippers, his clothes bunched up under his arm. Tiny beads of moisture dot the sparse view of his chest you have.

“Oh, you’re here.” He says, his step faltering at your clearly unanticipated presence. Or perhaps the sight of you, staring out into the dark, completely alone in this room is just awfully strange. “I thought you’d be eating at this time.” Eyes dropping to the ground as the door shuts behind him, his movements are clearly timid and weary, an rare expression on Taehyung.

“Not that hungry.” You mutter. “How was…” You ask out of habit, but immediately catch yourself. Quick eye contact before you both look away like docile animals. It’s too late for you to take back the question now anyway. “How was the spa?” And to make it appear that you don’t really care and was just asking out of courtesy, you turn back around to face out to the patio.

Completely unnecessary and petty move, whatever.

Except you see his reflection on the glass from the illuminated room all too well. Visibly easing that you’ve looked away, he plops his clothes down at the end of the bed and trails into the bathroom to fetch a towel for his hair. “Was really nice, they give good massages. You should give it a go at some point.”

“Okay.” He gives his head a good shake before drying with the towel. It feels creepy that he doesn’t know you are watching his reflection, so your eyes drop to your feet. You wonder if his masseuse was female. Not that it matters at all.

“What time are we meant to meet them for stargazing again?” He is speaking a lot - well, relatively. It saddens you that his usual tone of endearment when he would speak to you is now missing. It’s like speaking to a stranger, but worse, a stranger who takes a stab at your heart after every word.

“At 9, so that’s in…” You raise your wrist to find your watch absent from where it usually sits on your wrist. Right, you had removed it before strawberry-picking so it doesn’t get dirty and left it on the coffee table. Just as you turn around to retrieve it, you are met with Taehyung slipping his robe off. Your eyes widen.

The fluffy material glides down his shoulders like he’s made of gold, revealing the sculpture of his upper body that you scarcely recognise because he never used to be this toned. You thank any higher power there is that he is wearing his boxers, but they do nothing to conceal the faintest V at his hips and the bulk of his thighs. He isn’t bursting with muscle, but body definitely more well-defined than you remember.

“Have you been working out?” It just slips out. You wish, as the heat floods to dizzy your mind, that you had the capability of holding your tongue for once in your life.

Taehyung hesitates, Adam’s apple bobbing at his jugular. That shy awkwardness returns when your eyes meet. “Yeah. I mean a little, here and there…” Self-consciously, he brings his arm across his chest to rub at his bicep, but the gesture only flexes the muscle he has gained.

Your knees feel slightly weak. It’s the lack of dinner, you tell yourself. It’s not just your knees that feel weak though, your heart is thumping haphazardly into arrhythmia.

“But you hate exercise.” The stability in your voice surprises you.

“Yeah I did, but Seojoon said it’d help me take my mind off… things.” Lip between his teeth, Taehyung searches around for a top. Sheepishness in the form of a soft pink tint on his round cheeks turns you soft.

‘Things’, meaning you.

When you realise you’ve been staring, you immediately look down, fingers fiddling with each other like you’re some virgin freshly exposed to the spectacle of the male body. You’re anything but yourself, and so is he. Taehyung exercising? You almost scoff.

“You don’t have to… You’ve seen me naked, you know.” Taehyung mumbles, finally locating the sweatshirt he intends to wear. When you hear him pull it over himself, you sag in relief, the immense weight that his starkness strangely bestowed on you finally alleviated.

“Yeah, but it’s different now.” Now that we’re not together anymore. Not that we were ever together.

You know he feels it too, the sting of those words. The hurt in his eyes fill you with a sort of bitter self-resentment that you cannot wrap your head around. Stop looking at me like that. Stop making me feel like a bitch. Just stop hurting me.

“Yeah, it is.” But for some reason, it stings even more when he says it. His agreement should be a triumph, yet it feels more like the acknowledgement of the broken bridges between you.

When it comes from your mouth, it’s you convincing yourself more than anything. When it comes from his, it sounds like the truth.

.

Of the many things that are slowly killing Taehyung this weekend, the painfully awkward silence is among the most unbearable. It’s the loud kind of silence that he hates where there is clearly so much to say to each other yet none of it is coming out. There’s a vast ocean between you, roaring waves engulfing any sort of message he wishes to communicate.

This has to be one of the strangest experiences of his life - being set up by your friend on a couple’s trip to a resort disguised as a strawberry farm for Valentine’s day with you - and he has experienced a lot of weird shit in his life.

To be honest, he hasn’t been doing so great the past few weeks.

All the anger and bitterness had taken two days to melt away into miserable wretchedness. Two days, that’s all it took for him to not be angry with you anymore because there was one person he was angrier at - himself.

Because Taehyung was quick to realise that losing you is miles, miles, worse than what you had done to him. It was a sudden sort of realisation, the kind that hits you in the middle of doing something. What had he done?

The way he yelled at you, the things he said. His chest always sinks at the rememberance.

You didn’t know it was Jimin, you truly didn’t. But he exploded on you nonetheless, impermeable to your explanation. That wasn’t him. That raging bellowing man wasn’t him. If only he had just calmed down and talked it through with you, maybe he wouldn’t have been sleeping alone in your bed that your scent still clung on to.

And when he thinks about how you had heard him with that girl from the club, the bar, wherever his inebriated state took him that he doesn’t even remember…

Taehyung regrets everything.

How you got to this point was so extremely stupid. He should have just confessed to you, simple and easy, no complications needed. You are a commitment-phobe, he always knew he’d have to be the one to say it first. So why didn’t he? What the fuck was holding him back?

All he had to say was to not go on that date with Junho. That’s all you wanted. Why why why didn’t he just say how he felt?

Taehyung never knew himself to be a crier before this. He had shed a tear or two when he found out about Ryujin’s cheating and his friends’ betrayal; that was a stab in the back that left him gutted from the inside. Yet still, he got by, he survived because he found you. And he had naively thought, I managed to bear through this so nothing can really be worse than this now can it?

It can, and it did.

Once it starts, it won’t stop. The tears. A great tempest swallowing him whole and dragging him under until all he could hear was his own pounding heart. It is always before bed, when he would have the time to himself to truly think and reflect. But sometimes it comes during the day as well. He will be doing something as mundane as washing his hair in the shower, and he would suddenly break down because you had left him your shampoo that you would always get annoyed at him for using.

The house just feels empty. The absence of your voice, your warmth, your lips pressed on his neck every morning before his eyes even fully opened. Gone.

Yet, every corner is etched with the memories you share, your ghost lingering by the sofa that you adore whenever he’s watching TV, or curled up beside him every night in bed. It’s impossible to forget you.

Even as Seojoon moved in to fill your vacated room and help with the rent, the place was cold. It will never be the same because nothing could ever replace you. Everything he had and cherished - swept away just like that by none other than his own mistakes.

Yes, you had hurt him a lot. At the time, that pain felt insurmountable, like the worst thing you could ever do to him. But ultimately, upon the endless nights of thinking, he has realised that what hurt him the most was not you, but losing you. Not Jimin, not Junho, but how what could have been between you two fell apart so quickly by the poor choices you both made.

“Now if you look up to your left, you might be able to see one of our February constellations, the Pictor.” Jae announces, voice full of an enthusiasm that Taehyung could only envy as he guides the tour group towards the centre of a large plain field behind the hotel where you will all be stargazing. It is a lovely, breezy, cloudless night. You are several paces ahead of Taehyung, keenly reading the constellation manual leaflet lit up by your phone; he knows just how much of an astronomy geek you are. “It consists of four stars, as shown on your Star Guide, that are actually very dim and usually not easily spotted. The name Pictor means the Painter’s easel.”

Taehyung stops. Despite the darkness, he sees your shoulders tense too.

The easel you had gifted him on his birthday sits in his closet, stowed away from being a constant reminder of how much you loved him and how much he should have held on. It just sits there, collecting dust, untouched since the day you left.

The halt in Jae’s walking indicates your arrival to the intended location. “Here we are. Let’s settle down, love birds. I’ll set up this gorgeous telescope for anyone who wants to explore the sky in greater focus which I highly recommend.”

Spreading across the field, the group unrolls the picnic blankets you’ve all been given, dropping down to rest atop the covered grass.

No time is wasted from everyone else to snuggle up to their boyfriends, girlfriends, husbands, wives. The atmosphere is sickly, even for Taehyung. The couples around him have done little to hide their affection for each other since the beginning of the trip. It is a romantic vacation after all, but is it really so necessary to display your love so publicly?

You stand static and poker-faced on the other side of the mat, clear signs of reluctance to participate plastered all over you.

Taehyung has never stargazed before, let alone in this context. The stiffness in your movement as you sink down onto your knees and lie down in discomfort makes him wince. He realises now that neither of you have a choice but to put away any ill feelings and lay beside each other.

As he gets down next to you, his head nearly tumbles out his chest at the sudden proximity that he has grown so unused to. In the dark, your scent washes up to him like a timid tide lapping at the shore, hair swaying off your shoulders as you get onto your back. The size of the mat does not permit him elsewhere other than immediately beside you, no more than five inches from touching shoulders. Five inches from touching.

Truthbetold, Taehyung feels himself going insane. It started from the moment he saw you on the bus, your wide eyes, parted lips, so pretty despite the look of terror you wore. He didn’t think he would have the chance to see you any time soon. He hadn’t truly comprehended the magnitude at which he missed you until he saw you again.

And he has been spiralling since. Every gesture making his senses scream in agony, the desire to just talk to you mangling at him. He misses you like crazy. Not necessarily in that way, but just your presence, your funny comments, your feign annoyance when he annoys you. He misses the companionship.

You are both on your back now, the blanket feeling either slightly damp or too cold for comfort. The star-speckled sky hanging above you both is endless, a panoramic painting from east to west. You stare at the sky like it’s your lover, so Taehyung does the same. Astronomy doesn’t interest him as much as the meaning and purpose behind the act of stargazing. The people he’s with and the memories he makes.

Wordless, you stare at the sky, ignorant to his presence. The soft hum of everyone else’s whispers accentuates that frustrating silence between you. Taehyung is so fucking tired of the silence because he’s bursting with things to say to you, to ask you.

“Are we just not going to speak?”

His question startles you for you almost, almost, turn to look at him. The slight angling of your head before you catch yourself does not go unmissed by him.

“What do you want to speak about?” Taehyung hates the coldness in your voice. The unfeeling sounds so real. Why are you being this way? Do you seriously want nothing to do with him? That possibility scares him above all else.

Someone giggles a few yards from you two. On this large grassland, the couples are dispersed in their own little bubble of sweet affection, but not enough for his ears to not pick up these little sounds that send courses of envy through his vessel.

“What do you think?” The four weeks you spent apart were four weeks of lamenting over all the things he should have said, and all that he shouldn’t. And Taehyung’s is done with regretting unspoken words. He just wants to get everything out in the open, out of his system, so he can move on.

“I mean-”

“Look, Y/N. This is stupid, the whole ignoring each other thing. Don’t you just want to say your piece and get that weight off your chest?” In the distance, crickets chirp faintly. The discomfort shuddering in the five-inch area between your shoulders is screaming volumes. Taehyung doesn’t turn away from the sky for the fear of the expression he would see you wear.

He expects a note of irritation in your voice, for you to start arguing with him which he truthfully doesn’t mind because that is at least progress. But instead he gets a quiet defeat. “I don’t want to reopen wounds that are already ripping open, Taehyung.”

It wrenches his soul, truly. He doesn’t recognise you when you speak anymore, both with the things you say, and the way you say it. “Talking will help it heal.” Because that’s both your final goals here - to heal, to be cured of the ailment that is heartbreak.

“How exactly is it going to change anything?”

“I don’t know. We’ve had time to calm down and think and I think we should have some closure so we end on a good note.”

It’s funny now, how Taehyung is the one pleading to speak to you when he should be the one who’s angry at you because you were the one to commit the last and biggest fault. He doesn’t see it like that though, that’s all in the past. To be friends with you again, that’s all he wishes for, he doesn’t care about anything else at this point.

“So this is about amicability to you? You want to end on good terms.” Neither of you still dare to look at the other, eyes locked on the stars but somewhere distant.

“Well, yeah. Do you not?” He asks. He hadn’t expected you to be this uneasy, he thought you would have liked the idea of peace amongst you. “Everything towards the end happened so quickly, wouldn’t you like some closure?

“I would rather take my time and heal in my own way. To be honest, I don’t have anything to say to you about that topic except that I’m sorry, but I’m sure you’re sick of hearing that. It’s pointless.”

You’re coping with this differently, Taehyung understands. But it doesn’t take much effort to be pleasant towards each other, to smile and greet each other like normal people instead of scrambling away from every eye contact. How do you suppose you’d be able to move on like that?

“So not even friends right now?” He tries one last time. A soft breeze washes over you, wafting your scent towards him.

“No, I don’t want to be friends right now.”

Your bluntness stings. Taehyung finally gives in and turns to face you. Your striking profile greets him, your eyes still stubbornly glued to the sky. Your unwillingness to budge or compromise even a little bit is frustrating.

“We were best friends for the past two and a half years. More than best friends, we were literally two peas in a pod; we lived together, ate together, studied together, slept together. And now we don’t even talk. You’re okay with losing that? You’re telling me that I’m the only one who misses it more than anything else?” His angry whisper sounds ridiculous as he tries to keep his volume down, conscious of the setting he’s in.

But then he sees you blink, hard. Then blink again. Your pursed lip trembles. Another two consecutive blinks. When you look at him, your eyes are so glassy that they reflect the entirety of the galaxy above. “How am I supposed to be your friend right now when I can’t even look at you without feeling this great pang of sadness every time?” Taehyung immediately wishes he hadn’t pushed you.

“I… just would rather have you in my life as a friend than not have you at all.” His voice softens to a tone more apologetic. He is the reason for the tears you’re holding back right now and he despises it.

“I would rather not have you in my life at all while I slowly get over you than have you as just a friend because my heart can’t take this constant torture. I just want to be over you but I can’t do that if I have to pretend to be okay around you. And I just don’t get it Taehyung. How are you so willing to be friends again? After what I did, how could you look at me and not hate me?”

Taehyung frowns at you because he doesn’t see how you can’t understand it’s not about that anymore. It’s not about the blame, the who did what to who. He doesn’t care anymore but the fact that you do is alarming. You still can’t let it go.

“Okay, so is this about you not forgiving yourself?” He prods, and watches the brief flash of confusion on your face.

“I-” You’re quick to dispute but stop. Because it’s the truth.

A long silence ensures. You stare at the collar of his sweatshirt, zoned out. Taehyung knows you’re in deep contemplation, you know his points have strong grounds. There is no reason for hostility or callousness between you because it would only hurt each other more.

“Look,” He takes a deep breath. “I just think that it’s unhealthy for you to act like this. You’re burying and burying what you’re feeling without actually facing it. Trying to be friends is a good first step in accepting that we’re not together anymore; being cold to each other isn’t. Think about it.”

Another long pause. He watches you blink, watches your chest rise and fall at every breath.

“I understand your point, I know my coping mechanism isn’t healthy but it’s all that I know right now. We’re different, we’re hurting differently and healing differently. I’m sorry for acting out on you when it’s myself who I want to punish. But I seriously don’t have the strength to be your friend right now, I wish I did but I really don’t. Just give me time.” The fact that you’re not arguing with him says a lot; you have both matured from this experience. It’s sad that this is what it took for you to do so.

“Okay. I respect that.” Taehyung says. “I’m sorry for pushing this onto you, it’s selfish of me, sorry. I just… I don’t know, I guess I’m pathetic. You were my best friend and I want to salvage it as much as I can. I just miss you, that’s all.”

You don’t say anything, but Taehyung is okay with that. Because he knows you miss him too, you miss the friendship, the having each other to lean on.

The difference between you and him is that you can’t compartmentalise your lingering feelings for him and put that aside right now, whereas he can. You need to rid those feelings before you can be his friend, and he’s okay with that.

He stares at Pictor, it’s four weak stars that dim beside much brighter constellations yet somehow call to him. And he almost smiles.

.

You stare at your own reflection in the mirror.

That conversation with Taehyung resonates with you more than you’d care to let on. You let every single word he said sink in, your inner turmoil contemplating the points he made. Because he definitely has a point.

What resonates with you most is the word closure.

He’s right, everything between you ended so quickly that there was no time to process and accept it until it was already over. Maybe that’s why you’re finding it so hard to let go. If you were to be friends again, you could at least normalise his presence and gradually move past this.

Twisting the faucet on, you splash some water on your face to clear this dilemma from your head. And after wiping yourself dry, you exit the bathroom into your room with a great sigh.

Taehyung is wearing the grey hoodie - that’s the first thing you notice. As in the grey hoodie you would always claim as your own because of how soft its material is. The grey hoodie that you regret giving back to him. The grey hoodie that he would always wear when you guys gamed at midnight and it would always end with you on his lap, his locks tangled in your fingers while his mouth explored yours.

You take it back, fuck being friends, you’re back to square one.

He glances up in the dark, eyes surveying your silhouette from head to toe as he places a pillow on one end of the couch. Ever since that conversation, there’s the most subtle difference in his permanent expression - his lips look inclined to smile, his eyes hold an understanding for you that makes you feel vulnerable.

And, god, it makes you want to try. He deserves it, to have his best friend back in his life even if that best friend is you, the person he trusted the most in the world only to turn around and impale him in the chest with those stupid decisions of yours.

The omnipresence of your awkwardness hasn’t faltered though. “Taehyung, I said I would take the couch.” You protest, though you’re starting to see that it’s futile. You may be the more stubborn one between the pair, but there are certain things that Taehyung would never back down from.

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen, Y/N.” The corner of his lip turns up properly now, like he’s silently snickering at a joke he thought of. “That’s just - not gonna happen.”

“What’s so funny?” Switching the bathroom lights off behind you, you ask. You hadn’t packed well for this trip, you are only in a flimsy camisole and a pair of sweats, the cold air coaxes goosebumps on your skin. His gaze follows you as you draw the curtains shut over the glass wall, leaving only a strip of moonlight streaming in.

“Nothing.” Taehyung places both hands on the top of his head, an action that causes his hoodie to slightly ride up his torso. You fix your eyes on the floor as you approach him and the sofa. “It’s just funny how you think I’d ever let you sleep on the couch while I sleep on the bed.”

There is a dead end down this path you’re going, neither of you would let the other win. So you simply ignore him and situate yourself on the couch, stretching your legs to span it wholly. “Good night.” Fixing the pillow he had placed, you shut your eyes.

“What, no.” You can hear the smile wipe off his face, almost making you chuckle out loud. “Y/N, get up.” Hastily he hovers over you. But when you show no sign of acknowledgement, he shuffles away. A moment later, you feel a great gust of air, then the softest silkiest duvet landing over you.

Your eyes fly open. And there Taehyung stands with his arms crossed smugly. “If you take the couch, you also take the covers.”

“No! You’ll be cold.”

“You’ll be cold. You’re not wearing enough.”

You give up. “Oh, for god’s sake, Taehyung. Fine. Let’s both sleep on the bed, okay?” His entire expression dilates. He doesn’t even blink as you get off the couch and cross your arms back at him. “Problem solved.”

Taking his wrist in one hand, dragging the plush duvet in the other, you walk to the bed and sit him down. No noise of protest emits from him, so you go back to retrieve the pillow from the couch in a huff.

“Are you sure?” His voice is suddenly timid, unsure. And he’s right to be so, because you’re quaking on the inside as well at the prospect of sleeping beside him.

It’s not going to be good for your heart, you know that definitely. But like he said, you need to face this. If you touch a paper cut enough times, it stops hurting. “It’s just sleeping, it’s no big deal.” You lie. “You want to be friends right? Well let’s start with this. Let’s stop being stupid and childish.” You can’t look him in the eye as you rearrange the bedding back to its original state before Taehyung messed it up.

His reply merely a quiet yeah… before you both hesitantly crawl under the covers and tuck in. Heat flushes to your face as you do so because the action feels so familiar, yet everything about it is different.

Absolute silence. Backs facing each other. An arm's length or two between you but it feels like more. You don’t even shut your eyes because why pretend that you’ll fall asleep?

Your own palpitation is so vigorous that it’s audible. The thoughts whizzing around in your head are unstoppable, a persistent prodding at your skull. His scent is strong, that sweet honey musk that used to seduce you to sleep now the very thing that’s keeping you up.

It must be, what, ten? twenty minutes? of just laying there as you ponder your future with Taehyung, if you want a future at all. He’s right, you miss his friendship above all else. As much as you love Lotta, there is an intangible quality missing between you, that extra spark that existed between Taehyung which boosted your dynamic up to an incomparable level. You understood each other without having to speak, care about each other more than yourselves - that love was almost familial. Losing that has been too much.

Then you hear Taehyung shift onto his back. “Y/N?” Your heart skips a beat.

“Yeah?” You answer after a pause, mind racing through all the possibilities of what he could say. You hate this permanent uncertainty of what he’s thinking.

Silence follows for a short while, the endless possibility of what he’s going to say flooding your mind. Then, “You know how I can’t sleep without holding something?”

You stop breathing.

Because you see very clearly where this is going, and it’s down a road that you don’t know if you can withstand.

He can’t sleep without holding you. Holding you.

You take a deep breath and clamp down on your lip, grateful that your back is facing him so he can’t see the pathetic weakness on your face. Can you do this?

Can you do this without wanting to cry? Can you do this without succumbing to your momentary desire to just turn around and kiss him because you won’t be able to think straight with his arms around you? You’re really not sure.

“Yes…?”

“Can I…” Something rustles the covers, perhaps his arm, or maybe he’s inching closer. In the pitch black night, every movement feels amplified, more impactful. “You know…”

“Can you what?” You’re not being difficult, you’re giving him the chance to take back on this request. To just say nevermind and turn back around. Because you’re not equipped for his touch; you don’t want it, you don’t want the pain that comes with it.

Another pause. Take the chance, please. But his deep hesitant voice sounds in the dark, “Can I hold you please?”

You shut your eyes. That feeling in your nose again, that rush. Hold it in, don’t cry, stupid emotional bitch, don’t cry. What’s there to cry about? You wonder if this torment will end, and you wonder if you could ever stop feeling this much for him.

“I swear I’m not trying anything, I genuinely can’t sleep.” His voice has a way of penetrating deep into your bones, begging you even if it’s not his intention to.

You could say no, right? Just say no.

But that isn’t facing it, that isn’t overcoming your heartbreak. If your goal of this trip is to come out of this weekend completely devoid of feelings for him, then you need to let him stop affecting you.

“Okay. Please don’t make it weird.” You whisper, not daring to move a muscle.

Taehyung sags in relief, the bed dipping with his weight. “I won’t, I promise.” The sound of him shuffling closer to you constricts your throat. You close your eyes, awaiting the warmth of his front to meet your back, counting down in your head for that dreaded moment to come. “Come closer.” He murmurs.

When his hand fits around your waist, you know it’s an act of unconscious habit rather than intent. Slowly, he drags you into the enclosure of his chest, his scent and heat enshrouding you until you are completely engulfed by him.

He exhales, the fingertips of his breath caressing your hair ever so gently.

Every fibre in your body is tensing, eyes firmly shut and toes curled inwards. His hand feels enormous on your waist, holding you the only way he has ever known how to. With a unique type of affection that is so pure and devoted, yet also with a hint of protectiveness and possession.

Taehyung lets go of your waist only to encircle his arms around you entirely, his legs curling up under yours until you’re both cocooned together.

“You okay?” The back of your neck feels tender, sensual even, from the tickling heat of his breath. You’re too keenly aware of how close your heads are positioned, of the searing sensations that his hands are causing.

No, you’re not okay. Your skin has been lit on fire. Memories that you’ve long since tried to bury are surging back at full force, slamming into you one after the other. He’s too close, he’s everywhere. There is no distance separating you right now, yet you still feel miles away from him; you can’t comprehend his intentions nor decipher his thoughts. The fit of the crook of your back into his chest is perfect, a heartbreaking kind of perfect. This feels so so familiar. This is exactly what you had yearned and dreamt for every night for the past month - to be in his arms again. So why does it hurt even more than being alone?

Instead, you nod, “Mmm, yeah.”

A compulsion is yanking at you to lean back into him.

Taehyung exhales again and rests his cheek on the back of your shoulder where he always used to perch. If you were naked right now, he would be speckling this shoulder with soft dainty petal kisses. You hate that there is still a part of you, and mind you a very significant part, that wants it.

Your hands are inches away from touching each other; just one lift of your wrist and your fingers can clasp. The urge indunates you.

It would be so easy right now to just succumb - let your hand crawl into his because you know he would hold it, turn around and start kissing up his jaw until your tongues are tangled. You think it’s purely physical, these impulses, at least that’s what you want them to be. You just miss the intimacy, that’s all. But then why does it feel like you’ve swallowed a kaleidoscope of butterflies? Except their wings are made of glass, and everytime they flutter, you feel the shards scratch along your insides. There is desire laced in the pain. You don’t know which one is worse.

What baffles you the most is how he is alright with this, how he initiated this. He said he wants to at least be your friend, but this surely feels like a breach of friendship to anyone. Holding each other in bed is not being friends. But then again, you both have always had a warped perception of what friends should be doing.

You don’t understand how it’s so different for him. How the areas where you are touching, even if separated by layers of clothes, doesn’t tear through his sanity. If he doesn’t feel the same crack in his heart, then what does he feel?

With every heavy breath he takes, you take a silent one, eyes shut and praying to be swept away by the sleep that you don’t believe will reach you. You haven’t slept well since that night. Taehyung, on the other hand, you know is instantly sound asleep. It never used to take him more than five minutes as long as you were in his clutch.

But then, maybe there is a soothing essence in his presence with his overwhelming pleasant scent and rhythmic breathing, or maybe you’ve just exhausted your body with constant overthinking, a hazy fog drifts over your consciousness. You’re so tired, physically and mentally drained... And Taehyung feels so warm and snug around you...

The last thought you have before you drift off into reverie is that you feel his fingers slide between yours, holding not firmly but with intent. And you don’t know if it was you or him who moved it so.

You wake up from the damp heat gathered in all your crevices, the thin coat of sweat mildly irritating your skin. You are facing the glass door to the patio, and though the curtains conceal much of the windows, strips of sunlight topple past the cracks and unfurl into your room.

Taehyung’s arm is around you. Still.

After these years of living together, you know everything about Taehyung like that back of your hand. You can tell whether he’s awake or not from his breathing. And he’s most definitely asleep, though only lightly.

You look down and examine your position. In the course of the night, his forearm has travelled progressively higher until it is just about cradling your breasts. One of his legs is thrown over yours, entrapping you in his embrace. In his tangle of limbs, you slowly try to twist onto your back while prying him off.

He stirs, pulls you in tighter.

Which lands your rear in the unfortunate position of right atop his crotch. His crotch that is very much awake and way too excited.

Lethargy immediately expelled, your eyes open wide.

Morning wood is a usual occurrence for Taehyung, especially after a night of merciless teasing, but randomly a lot of the times. You shouldn’t be as surprised as you are, nor aroused. He has mentioned before how uncomfortable it can be, a blaring hard presence, a sore tension waking him up in an unforgiving manner. Which means that he can precariously wake any second n-

“Mmmm.” Voice an octave deeper than its norm, he hums, announcing his returning consciousness.

Taehyung’s morning wood and morning voice. You are being tested right now.

Your concupiscence has been gradually building up in the last few weeks from the lack of any sexual activity save for your own fingers and toys. It’s human nature, and completely goes against your will - but you feel the old friend that goes by the name lust stirring at the pit of your stomach.

At your proximity, the tip of his member digs deep between your cheeks, prodding at your entrance incontestably. Your whole body stiffens as the slowly waking Taehyung nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck habitually, arm tensing around you. Ever so slowly, you look back to steal a glance. His wildly curly hair falls over his forehead gracefully, lashes fanned out from his closed lids. He’s too beautiful for his own good.

Your core dampens and you quickly turn back around.

Fuck, please, no. You can’t be thinking about him like that. It’s so wrong. But his erection burrowed between your ass is banishing any clarity or sense from your head.

But God, you fucking miss this.

You’re going mad from deprivation. The dry spell of the past month had been voluntary, on the basis that you knew it wasn’t a healthy coping mechanism because you would only picture Taehyung over the faces of those nameless men. And because you knew no one knows you as well as he does, thus no one will succeed in satisfying you as well as him. Your sex drive was non-existent right after the break-up; sex simply didn’t cross your mind once while you were nursing your broken heart. And then it came ebbing back, though faintly and infrequently, you regained your libido and would find yourself fantasising on some lonesome nights.

But now, the situation at hand is that: you’ve allowed Taehyung to cuddle you in his sleep and you’ve consequently woken up to his undeniably hard cock poking between your legs. And he is seconds away from fully waking up as well.

So what now?

“Taehyung.” You say firmly, pushing his arm away from your breasts. It’s best if you call him out for it now rather than let it hang awkwardly in the air unsaid.

“Hmmmm..?” He rumbles sleepily. You don’t have to turn around to be able to envision his face, eyes slowly blinking open but reluctant as ever, true to his deep sleeper title.

“Taehyung.” This time you nudge back gently for emphasis. What it achieves is additional friction. Your whole lower half achse to grind back onto him, to slide over his hardened cock, to reach back and pump it in your hands.

Fuck.

You can’t.

You could, so easily, but you shouldn’t. You and Taehyung are completely over in every sense of your relationship. You can’t let this moment of weakness strip away all your efforts in moving on.

“Wha…” He mumbles, finally peeling his arm off you to stretch out. A loud yawn ensues. You take the opportunity of his loosened hold around you to twist back and pin him with a glare, hoping that your thirst is masked.

“You’re hard.”

Eyes still puffy, he stops mid-stretch at those two words. And looks down.

Did he… not notice? Or did he, in his morning hazy, momentarily get the situation confused and forget that you weren’t together?

Taehyung scrambles away from you so abruptly that he almost falls off the bed. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t- It just- I can’t control it, Y/N, you know I can’t.” His stammering is followed by his jerky movements to readjust his bulge as discreetly as one can allow in such situation. The detonation of terror on his face exacerbates your embarrassment. Because you simply don’t know what to do with yourself - with your core tingling in arousal simultaneously as your brow twitches in annoyance. When your vexed eyes meet his, you see another wave of panic crash onto him.

How did you get in this situation in the first place? If only you had just slept on the couch last night…

“Yeah, I know, stop reacting like that. Don’t make it weirder than it already is.” You berate, yanking the covers with all your strength over your shoulder and roll away from him. The distance is more for your own good. You can’t be near him right now, you can’t think about his fucking cock slipping into you.

You want to fuck. You want to fuck Taehy-

Stop that fucking thought.

“I’m sorry.” His morning voice, oh god. Burying your face into the pillow does little against the fluid pooling in your panties.

“Can you go to the toilet and… fix yourself.” When the words leave your mouth, the imagery of him fixing himself flashes before your eyes. And something pulses violently down there. Fucking fuck.

“Um, okay, sorry.” You try to not peek at him as he gets up from the bed, slightly limping as he makes his way to the toilet. But you succumb nonetheless.

His cheeks are scarlet, veins bulging on the side of his forehead, and you’re not sure if it’s from his embarrassment or the discomfort of the boner. Your eyes drop from his profile because his morning face has always been one of your weaknesses, except unfortunately for you, your eyes land on his bulge.

Another pulse down there.

You hate yourself. You feel dirty for even thinking about him like that because it’s so wrong. But then again, he’s probably thinking about you like that as well, hence the raging erection.

When the bathroom door shuts behind him, you let out a sigh. You don’t know how long you can keep hold of your sanity for like this. You’re swimming in a sea of confusing emotions: the constant melancholy you have of missing him and missing the way things were before you had fucked it up; the desperation to move on and understand that he was only a chapter of your life that is now closed; the bitter resentment that you have for yourself as a consequence of not being able to do so; and now the inescapable desire aching between your thighs because of how inherent these memories are of how he would fuck you until you cry like nobody else could.

What doesn’t help is the hint of a slow pumping rhythm from the toilet, and Taehyung’s ragged breathing.

Fuck.

You don’t want to think about how he’s jerking off on the other side of the wall right now, gripping his cock as he leans against the sink, head thrown back. But that’s exactly what you’re thinking about.

Is he thinking of you as he’s doing it? You’re not sure if you want him to, because while you wish he wouldn’t, you also hope that this lust you feel is reciprocated still, that you’re not the only one going crazy with arousal.

Your hand almost trails down to your core when his pace quickens, but his sharp inhale strikes at your inner righteousness. You stop, sit up and rush out to the patio for some fresh air.

Happy Valentine’s Sunday indeed.

.

The dough feels sticky in your hand despite the layers of flour you’ve doused your fingertips in. Baking has never been your forte, you simply don’t have the patience or precision for such a crafty hobby. You glance over to check on Taehyung’s progress at the other half of the counter.

He has the easy job. Of course, when it came to allocating roles between the pair of you in this baking session, the jam-making landed on him because there’s no way he would succeed in making the strawberry tart.

You can’t help but smile at the way his lips are puckered and brows drawn in concentration as he chops the berries as finely as he could. But the way the top half of his hair is pulled back into a little sprout of a ponytail… You gulp.

Neither of you have spoken a word of this morning’s awkward event; it had been a tacit agreement not to as soon as you made eye contact when he stepped out of the bathroom. It has set a lewd tone for the rest of your day. At every blank moment where your mind isn’t preoccupied, especially when you’re doing something as frivolous and kneading dough, your thoughts would wander to the memories of his warm rigid-

You stop yourself. You’re in public and he’s chopping strawberries right next to you.

You’ve noticed how, every time you’d have those sinful thoughts, your mood would lighten a little. The pang in your heart that used to always plague you would profoundly diminish. Of all things, of course sex is what eases your sadness the most, that’s just so characterisitic of you isn’t it?

“Is everything going well?” One of the baking assistants comes over to your counter for the seventh time now (yes you’re counting). She is a petite, rather pretty, pleasant looking girl. And you have not failed to notice how every time she checks up on you two, her attention is always solely on Taehyung. Here you are struggling with your asscheek of dough yet she only cares to ask how Taehyung, the strawberry chopper, fares?

“Yup.” Taehyung spares her a brief glance before dumping the diced pieces of fruit into the saucepan.

“Would you like some more flour?” You almost scoff out loud. You’re the one working with flour over here! Why is she asking him?

“No, thanks.” He doesn’t look up this time.

The assistant smiles to herself as if he’d said something particularly sweet to her. Until her eyes land on you. “Uh- What about you, ma’am?”

“All.” You land a punch on the buttery dough, death glare and all. “Good.” Another punch. Eyes not once wavering. She has the brains to scramble away.

You don’t have the right to assert this sort of possessiveness over Taehyung. But it’s the principle. This is a couple’s romantic holiday; she must be under the presumption that you and Taehyung are together, so how does she still dare to ogle over him like that?

“She’s flirting with you.” You rumble when she’s out of earshot.

Taehyung looks up at you from stirring his jam mixture, his lips still slightly pouted from his focus. “What? Who?”

“That baking assistant who came over just now.” You grit, trying to suppress this irrational vexation.

“Oh. Really?” Clueless, he scans across the room. “Was that the blonde or the brunette one?”

It’s a relief how truly oblivious he is that you don’t bother answering his question. It’s also completely unlike him. Since when did Kim Taehyung not notice when a girl takes interest in him? How fascinating must those strawberries be to capture his undivided attention like that?

“Would you like some flour?” You mimic, batting your lashes at him.

A wide grin spreads across his cheeks. To be honest, you don’t know what prompted you to display such friendliness to him all of a sudden. Perhaps what happened this morning, or even the fact that you slept on the same bed last night, breached one of the walls towering between you. It’s progress.

“You’ve got flour on your face.”

Fuck, again? You need to stop handling stuff like dirt and flour because they keep ending up on your face. “Ugh.” You huff, trying to let the embarrassment brush off. “Where?”

From the mischievous smirk that his grin morphed into, you should’ve known. Before you could suspect, Taehyung dabs one of his fingers into a small pile of flour and smears it down your cheek. “There.”

“You-!” You gasp, your own finger already caked in flour flying for a counter attack at his face.

But his reflexes are fast as he catches your wrist in lightning speed and tugs you towards him, his other hand simultaneously slathering another streak of white down the bridge of your nose. You tumble into him, foolish grin on your face as you twist your wrist out of his grip and manage to smear your floury thumb onto his chin.

Taehyung catches you before you could trip over your feet, smiling so wide for the first time this weekend that you can’t help but giggle. His grip on your waist feels warm. You’re close enough that you have to crane your neck to see him, close enough to see the individual hairs of his brows.

Yes, something has definitely shifted since last night.

The desire is a flame, devouring all your other senses until all you can focus on is his touch, his molten chocolate eyes, his tongue swiping out to wet his lips. You just want to…

Kiss him.

You admit it, you want to kiss him so fucking badly.

Ignition in his eyes, he stares at your lips too, smile slowly faltering. The hammering of your spastic heart cancels out all other noise in the room; you don’t see anything else except him. He doesn’t move, and neither do you. That lustful monster in your mind screams, Damn the consequences. Just kiss. Fuck being friends and fuck being strangers. Kiss him.

“Alright, lovebirds over there. These pastries won’t make themselves. Let’s get cracking!” Both of you jump and the sound of the head chef calling.

A bucket of ice cold water showers over you, extinguishing that prosperous flame. And reality materialises once again around you.

Not just the physical reality, but the reality of your situation as well - you can’t, you shouldn’t be acting like this around each other. There’s being friends, and then there’s this. The line is fine, it has always been.

It’s difficult to separate the weeds of these conglomerated emotions. You miss each other, want to kiss each other. You want the hurting to end, he wants to be friends. Your break up had been too messy for either of you to have a clear vision of what you need to do to overcome this.

Except maybe there is a cure-all solution to this.

You return to your ball of dough as Taehyung goes back to stirring his boiling jam. Yet your attention is now scattered, because a seed of an idea, most probably a very bad one, has been sown in your head.

.

It is most definitely a reckless idea, one that has the potential of going very south.

You bring it up during dinner, the supposed “romantic candlelit dinner with a string quartet” which neither of you are remotely dressed well enough for. “Taehyung, you know how you talked about closure and all that yesterday?”

Taehyung pauses, forkful of tenderloin steak stopped in midair. “Yeah..?” The hope in his voice is infused with an uncertain hesitation.

“I think we should have sex. One last time. For closure.”

The violin strikes a particularly high pitch in the background. Taehyung doesn’t move a hair for at least a good ten seconds before he blinks at you. This was definitely not what he’d anticipated from you, you can tell. But well, of course it isn’t. The idea surprised yourself.

“What? I think I heard something else, say that again?”

Oh boy. “No, you heard it right. I said I think we should sleep together for closure.” You sound unsteady to your own ears. “Release all this pent up sexual frustration we have for each other one last time and then be done with this. You said you want to be friends, right? I actually think it’s going to work for me, I’ll be able to move on afterwards, I’m almost certain.”

Frowning, Taehyung puts his fork down. “Really…? You want to have sex?”

“Yes.” You’re not even going to be shy about it at this point. You weren’t sure how this scene was going to play out but you’d envisioned it to go much smoother than this. “Do you want to?”

“I mean…” Colour of wine stains his cheeks. “Yeah… But are you sure? You were just saying last night how you can’t look at me without hurting. Do you understand why this is confusing for me?”

“I know it sounds contradictory and counterproductive, but-” You halt when you realise that there is no but. You don’t know how to verbalise the explanation that convinced you in your head. “Look at it as break up sex. It’s a common thing because it works. Like you said, we ended so quickly, in a blink of an eye. Just see this as the closing chapter of our relationship. If you don’t want to do it, just say it. I just had to throw it out there.”

Worry drips down your throat when his blank expression remains unchanged - worry that you’ve made a fatally wrong move to make things irreparably awkward now, if he so wishes not to follow through with your suggestion.

But then he nods, ponderously and maybe not entirely convinced, but you’ll take it. “I think you have a point… The thing about closure and ending this better than we did the first time round.”

“So… You’re down.”

“Down.”

So, the rest of dinner flies by with the two of you wolfing down your meal as hastily as you can. The entire time, your mind is buzzing with a strange sort of excitement for you are confident that this is necessary in accelerating your process of recovery.

You and Taehyung started with sex, so naturally, you should end with sex.

If you are eating cookies from a jar and that jar is suddenly taken away from you, you would be overcome with a surge of anger and unjust. You will always remember that awful person who took it from you. But if you are told that the jar will be taken away and the cookie in your hand is the last one you can ever have, you will cherish this last cookie and take your time eating it. It would taste different from all the other cookies you’ve had in the past - better, sweeter, because you know that it’s the last one.

Taehyung is quiet, indecipherable as you stroll back to the room. You understand his doubt, you really do. Because a night ago, if he’d have offered you the same suggestion, you would’ve thought he’s insane. But after the incident this morning, and the sparse flirtation throughout the day, there is a clear indication of unresolved sexual tension on both ends.

End this once and for all with a bang.

“Are you really up for it, Taehyung?” You check one last time, swiping the keycard at the door. “If you’re not comfortable, then we shouldn’t.”

When you look back as you push open the door, you catch his eyes, filled with purpose and trust. “No, you’re right. We need the closure.”

As the door closes behind you after you enter, it feels final - your fate is sealed, this is happening. You both stop in the middle of the room, facing each other. Shoulders tense and fists clenched. The bed has been made from this morning, a strawberry gift basket sitting on the coffee table in the corner of your eye.

Your breath feels shaky.

“So…”

“So…”

His throat is trembling too.

You break into a smile at how pathetic you’ve both become around each other, and once you do, Taehyung observably loosens up. “What are we being so nervous for?”

He smiles too, and takes a step towards you. “I don’t know.”

Bittersweet. It’s the best way to describe how you feel right now. Because this is it.

“Do you want to get in the hot tub? It feels like a waste if we don’t use it before we go. It’s our last night here.” The buzzing beneath your skin grows as you ask, and a spark lights up in his eyes at your idea.

“Say no more.” He presses a kiss on your forehead. It’s utterly out of the blue and fleeting, but enough to make your heart leap, both from the bewilderment and the knowledge that this will be one of your last acts of affection.

Taehyung walks past you towards the glass door, peeling off his shirt in the meantime to reveal the new tone of muscle on his back that he’s acquired in the past month. “I’m going to get some alcohol.” You maunder.

Your fingers are shaking as you rummage through the wine cooled for the drink you best see suitable. A strawberry champagne catches your eye. How fitting.

You can’t explain how jittery you feel as you completely strip off your clothes. This is the last time with Taehyung. The profound significance, the pressure, the emotions, tide after tide hitting you.

Two glasses of champagne in your hand, you inhale sharply, and let it all out.

This is it. This is the conclusive ending you asked for.

Warm water bubbling up to his chest, you find him seated in the hot tub awaiting you. The boxers discarded by the side implies that it was a last minute decision of his to go completely naked. And when he notices your nude form strutting out to the patio to join him, he sucks in. The way his eyes rake down your body then back up to your face sends flutters to you core, but also a nostalgic pang.

Eye contact does not break for a second as you climb into the hot tub and sit yourself adjacent to him. The chilly evening breeze with the heated effervescing water provides the perfect ambient temperature. Taehyung accepts the champagne you hand him, finger brushing over yours in a way that could only be intentional. He’s savouring every touch.

“To Mykonos, to the heatwave, to us and our last time.” You toast. The lump in your throat almost doesn’t permit the words to be said.

“To Mykonos, to the heatwave, to us and our last time.” He repeats after you. Clink. And down the drink goes.

A sigh, from both of you. The champagne is bittersweet, too. And you feel that surge behind your nose again, the sting behind your eyes.

“Isn’t it funny how the universe plays out?” Taehyung says, gaze falling to your lips, then your neck, then collar. He slides closer to you. “The first time we kissed was in water, the Mediterranean Sea. And now, the last time will be in water too.”

You don’t say anything for you need a moment to collect the tears. Then you place your glass on the edge of the tub and waddle through the water until you are perched on his lap. He receives you like you’re made of glass, gentle hands coming around your bare back to pull you down onto him. You brush away his dark untamed curls from his face, appreciating the thickness of his hair between your fingers because you don’t think you’ll get to touch it again. His hands trail low to the small of your back; you feel yourself brush up against his member, already hard and poised.

You want to tell him that you love him, that you will always always love him. But you know you would break if you say it.

So you just lean down to kiss him.

People like to describe their kisses like electricity, fire, a bolt of lightning striking down their spine. But for you, it really isn’t like that at all. When your lips meet, it feels like your first sip of cocoa on the first day of winter warm but not hot enough to burn, feels as though you’re interlocking fingers in a crowd of busy bodies and his thumb brushes over yours to tell you it’s okay, I’m right here and I won’t let go.

And you both pull away at the same time, a string of saliva between your mouths.

Because you both feel it, and it’s too much.

But this is the last time, you remind yourselves. Last time.

So your lips fall back onto him, fuelled by a passion you’ve never felt before. His mouth is velvet, fitting over yours so perfectly that it hurts. His hand finds your face, wet from being submerged, and he holds you more tenderly than he would an infant. Your chest is imploding from every ragged breath you take between hot kisses and you just let it.

Arousal pulling at your strings, your hand snakes down his front, dips into the water and wraps around his cock. “Ah…” Taehyung groans into your mouth. Your touch swipes across his tip. “Fuck, baby.”

Baby.

That is your undoing.

His teeth find your breasts, taking your nipple and teasing it until you’re whimpering in need. The roughness of his tongue tingles your sensitive bud so much that your eyes roll back and your vision is black and dotted with stars. The water providing you with a newfound ease, you pump him relentlessly, sitting up so you can slide his tip over your clit and along your folds. Because neither of you can wait, you’re cutting to the chase. Anything else can wait until subsequent rounds.

Every time his head brushes past your clit, a convulsion shoots up you. Your thighs quiver around him as he digs his fingers into the flesh of your ass. And when you inch by inch sink down onto his cock, the euphoric stretch in your walls numbs all other sensation.

You have missed this so much. It’s been so long.

“Fuck, you’re tight.” Taehyung’s voice is shaky, breath hitched.

“It’s ‘coz I haven’t…”

You don’t have to finish the sentence for him to understand and reply, “Me neither.”

The boost of reassurance and confidence that it grants you makes you roll your hips over his. From the absence of sex the past month, your cunt has grown unaccustomed to his size. Your entire core aches, but in the best way you could ask for. The water sloshes as you gain a steady rhythm. You have to bite down onto his ear to stop the volume at which you want to cry out because you remember that you are outdoors.

Taehyung’s face burrows into your neck, panting hard, but thrusting harder. You think back to every single one of your times together, from beginning to now. Your arms encircle tighter around him as you kiss the shell of his ear.

The initial pain in your walls is beginning to trickle away, leaving in its wake the claws of pleasure running up and down your body. Taehyung’s cock performs wonders on you that no one else can - it’s just a fact that you have to accept now. Nothing will compare.

Yet you can come to terms with it. You can gladly accept that Taehyung will be the best thing you’ll ever have.

But then you feel the dampness. At first, you mistaken it as droplets of water splattering onto you so you ignore it. And amidst you bouncing onto him, you don’t notice how Taehyung’s shoulders are shuddering.

You stop.

And feel the streaks of his tears running down your neck from where his face is pressed onto.

You can’t describe the shattering in your heart when you look down to find him crying into you. You can’t speak, can’t move, can’t even cry back at him.

It leaves you in wreckages, how he’s holding you close to him still, clinging on despite your how you’ve stopped, muffled sobs cracking out of this throat.

It takes a while for you to regain your voice, but his tears are still ceaseless. “Taehyung…”

When he looks up, you’re struck with another ammunition of distraught. The redness of his eyes, the sad distortion of his beautiful features, the endless endless tears...

“Y/N, I can’t. I really can’t.” His voice is hoarse, as if he’s been screaming silently.

“I-I’m sorry, you should’ve said. I’m so sorry I didn’t realise.” You’re stupefied from the horrendous sight of a completely broken Taehyung underneath you. You immediately climb off him.

“I-” He sniffs. “I love you so fucking much. I love you more than I love myself and I can only ever love you more each day.” You feel it again, the surge in your nose, the sting behind your eyes. You’re choked up, speechless, resenting yourself for putting him through this. You want to bury your head in the water and cry until you pass out. 

“Y/N, I didn’t ever want to lose you because I know I would lose myself. But then I lost you. And I lost myself.” His sobs strangle you by the throat.

“Taehyung, I’m sorry. About everything I’ve done. It’s all my fault and I will always hate myself for hurting you so much.” A single tear rolls down your face, you can’t hold it in anymore. Then a second, third. At the unstoppable oceans pouring from his eyes, you feel destroyed.

“I don’t even care about that! I’m not hurt by Junho or Jimin, I don’t care. Having to wake up every day knowing that you’re not beside me has been the most painful thing I’ve had to deal with. You are my home, Y/N. I don’t want to live in a life that you’re not a part of. I just can’t live without you and I can’t stand it. I can’t- I can’t...”

“Then don’t.”

Confusion draws his browns into a frown. “What?” His face is still warped in pain. You can’t stand it anymore either.

“Then don’t live without me.”

Your teeth dig into your lip to stop your own bawling.

All this conflict back and forth has taken such a toll on you and what for? At the end of the day, one unwavering fact stands true and untested: you love each other no matte what. So why should you let mistakes of the past keep you apart?

“What?” He says again, though understanding starts to seep through.

“I love you, Taehyung. I can’t not love you. I’m not myself if I don’t. So let’s stop this bullshit. I can’t live without you and you can’t live without me. So then let’s not leave each other again.”

You stare at each other, on this cool February night, warm water gurgling up to your collars, the cloudless night sky flaunting it’s collection of stars. And you promise to stay by each other for as long as you live.

“Okay.” That’s all Taehyung can muster.

“I’m yours, Taehyung. My heart is completely yours forever.” His violent flow of tears subside into gentle trickles.

“Okay.” He stands up in the tub, and you mirror his action. Water weeps off your skin, inviting the cold to infiltrate.

Nothing more needs to be said. Your mouths find each other the way they always do, the crashing of your lips, scraping of your teeth. A new tear rolls off Taehyung’s face and onto your fused lips, but it’s different this time. They’re tears of insuppressable joy, knowing that the taste of your tongue is entirely his, the porcelain of your skin is entirely his. You’re shivering from the temperature of the night, but you don’t feel the cold.

His hands come behind your thighs and lift you up to his face level, wrapping your legs around your torso the way he did in Mykonos. With careful steps, he carries you back into the room, past the bed, that poor couch that was collateral damage to your mutual pining, and sets you down onto the bathroom countertop.

When he finally breaks away from the kiss and takes in your beauty under the bright light of the room, there is no less than absolute adoration in his eyes. Never anything less. “I love you and I’m yours.”

Taehyung wraps the only massive white towel he can find around your wet naked body, disregarding the cold attacking his own. You frown at him, hooking him between your legs so you can fling the towel over his shoulders as well.

“I love you and I’m yours.” You say back, blotting his body dry. It’s such a simple statement, yet the meaning it holds for the two of you is so heavy. They’re the very words that you have never found the strength to say to each other, until now.

“Say that again.” You melt under his smile, not a single trace of worry to be found in your brain.

“I love you. And I’m yours.”

You twist your neck back to follow his glare at reflection in the mirror of your huddled bodies under the towel. Cheeks pushed up from glee, heads leaning against each other, and just like that - all your heartache vanishes without a trace.

“Mine?” Taehyung pecks your brow, still smiling.

“Yours.” Legs clamping around him tighter, you turn to face him. “And how are you this hard again already?” His cock’s ability to stay erect is astounding, truly.

“Don’t you know? You could breathe and my cock would be hard.” Laughter erupts both your chests and it’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard.

Allowing the towel to drop around you, your hand slips between your bodies to clutch onto his length. Responsiveness ripples through his toned abdomen. “I want to suck…” You nuzzle your nose to his, your breaths amalgamating.

Taehyung sighs into your mouth. “But I want to-” Your grip tightens around him as you drag out a pump, eyes wide with feign innocence. “Okay, what the fuck, that’s not fair.”

“You’ll get to do whatever you want to me after.” You trail your mouth along his jaw.

“F-Fine.”

He lets you slide off the marble counter with the skin of his neck pinched between your teeth. When he realises that you’re marking him in clouds of purple, his head falls back and gives himself up as your canvas. You understand the appeal of hickeys now. For you two, it’s an agreement, a promise, an exchange of trust. You continue down his front, teeth grazing his nipples, lower and lower, kissing along the protrusion of his pelvic bone. Until you arrive at his cock.

“Do you remember the whole ice cube thing during the heatwave?” You run your finger up his length, over his oozing slit. The heatwave feels like an eon ago, but also like just yesterday.

Stiffening, Taehyung looks down. “Yes…”

“How about I pay you back for that one?” You take his shut eyes and sparse nod as compliance because you know he’s not capable of words right now.

You dash away to collect a glass of ice from the drink cooler, but on your way find something even better. Something you’ve always wanted to try.

Taehyung is slowly touching himself when you return, mildly surprised by the second item you brought back with you. “Whipped cream? Isn’t that from the gift basket?”

“You up for it?” A smirk stretches.

“Very up and very hard.” He lets go of his member and watches you drop to your knees.

To moisten him first, you slowly lap circles around his head, applying considerable pressure and letting the tip of your tongue tease at his sensitive opening. You look up when he moans, and takes his girth into your mouth, sliding his cock further and further down your throat until he pokes the back. Then you pull up with a pop, echoing within the walls of the bathroom.

You take two ice cubes from the glass, one placed between your lips, and the other to massage over your clit. The icy sensation strikes a numbing sensation into your core when it touches your bud of nerves. The cube in your mouth, you begin to trace slowly from the base of his shaft all the way up.

A string of profanities leaves Taehyung at the temperature, and seeds a satisfaction between your legs.

The ice is melting quickly from the heat of your mouth so you waste no time to guide it down to his scrotum resting on your palm. “Fuck.” He whines, his whole length twitching.

When this cube dissolves into nothing but a puddle of your tongue, you take another, ruthlessly educing those curses from him. His tip is the most sensitive part of him, so that’s where you focus on, smearing the edges of the cube around the curve of his head. His thighs tense in euphoric spasms.

The whipped cream comes next. With a few shakes of the canister, you hold his cock pointed towards yourself and view the spiral of white untainted cream unfold onto his head.

“Ah!” Taehyung yelps.

“You good?” You glance up to check that he still has a rein on his sanity.

“It just scared me.” You chuckle and place a kiss on his shaft.

“You should be scared.”

Eyes lock on his, you watch him watch you vulgarly smear the cream all over his cock with your lips. Its sweetness oozes into your mouth and sinks into your tongue. “Mmm.” You hum at the pleasant taste. Then you start to suck, the cream providing you with a lubrication that your spit has never been able to replicate. His cock glides into your mouth with such little resistance that you gag around him.

“Oh fuck, that feels so good.” He can’t look away from you, your hollowed out cheeks and large eyes as you bob your head deeper and deeper. Ribald wet sloppy noises squeaking from your mouth. “Uh fuck.”

Taehyung’s fingers entangle in your hair, guiding your motion in and out. The cream swirls in your mouth, the taste prompting you to suck harder until your mouth adheres like a second skin to his cock. He’s soon panting, even as you come up for air and to spray more cream on him.

“Yeah, keep going. Can I come in your mouth?” His eyes are almost screwed shut, but still open to keep watching. The rise and fall of his chest, and the bulging vein down the side of his cock - he’s close.

You keep sucking, relishing in the taste of the cream, the ease at which his tip glides along your throat, your own fluid dripping from your cunt.

“Fuc- Ah!” Gripping your hair tight, he thrusts hard into you as he cums, ribbons of his own cream mixing in your mouth. Taehyung’s dick pulses violently at the shaft. You watch his jaw fall open, brows pinch together, as the liquid dribbles down your throat.

You pull his length out of you with a great gasp and swallow all the remnants. “Shit. How was that?” Out of breath, you wipe the mess around your mouth with the dropped towel.

“Give me a second to recover from that, baby.” Arms on the countertop to support him, Taehyung lets his head droop back so far that his hair touches his elbows. You wet the towel at the sink and clean his slowly limping member. “Fuck that was…”

When his eyes open again, there is a fury that you know to be afraid of. He hauls you up onto your two feet and latch onto your lips, not caring about the filthy things they’ve just done to him.

“I need to be inside you.” He grumbles. “Give me five, ten minutes and I'll be ready again.”

“Hmm.” Arms sliding around his neck, you let him walk you onto the bed, hovering over you while his hands fondle your breasts that have become lonely. The insides of your thighs are slick with your arousal - that doesn’t go unnoticed.

Scissoring your folds open with his long digits, this thumb finds your clit, bulging and throbbing with desire. The vibrations coursing into you as he starts to rub compels you to arch back. You are really just a plaything when under his touch, as malleable as dough.

“Taehyung!” And for some reason, you calling out his name flips an animalistic switch in him.

With your neck fully exposed, he ceases the opportunity to nibble all over your unmarred skin, leaving angry blotches in return of your marks on him. This thumb is working quickly, the pressure at your clit superimposing second by second.

“Wait.” He lifts his head up abruptly, though fingers still going. “Do you want to sit on my face?”

Your heart jolts in excitement at the mere mention of it. “Didn’t even have to ask.” It has always been something you’ve wanted to try but never gotten around to.

Swapping positions, Taehyung reclines onto his back while you situate your knees on either side of his face. His hands grip onto your waist, guiding your descent onto his thrill-teeming face.

An incredible shock of pleasure fires up your spine when he takes your clit between his lips and sucks. This position grants him an unobstructed access to your pussy, no awkward angle, no cramping neck. So the assail he commences is totally, and unfortunately for your lucidity, merciless. His hands grapple onto your freely hanging breasts, rolling your nipples between fingertips.

Crying aloud from the ecstatic twisting sensation, you feel your eyes water. It’s almost too much, the mind warping accumulation of tension in your cunt. “Like that, Taehyung.”

One of his hands leaves your breast only to insert his digits into your dripping slit. Your thighs are aching, close to giving way; you don’t think you can withstand this tremendous stimulation.

His tongue doesn’t stop and neither do his fingers. Breathing through his nose heavily, he continues to coil your core into loops and loops of hypertension

You’re so close, so close.

And you’re there.

The pulsing waves of your orgasm sweep you away. You don’t even hear your own moans, just the roaring of your blood in your ears. Your whole body writhes above Taehyung, but your muscles don’t permit you to move off him while so ransacked by this high.

It last long, nearing half a minute before your senses come back to you.

And finally, you sag and topple over, trusting Taehyung to catch you and roll you onto your back.

“What the fuck.” You pant, low frequency pulsations still resonating down your legs, in awe of how he never fails to tip you over the edge. And the striking difference between the male and female orgasm is that, unlike Taehyung, you immediately want more when you’re done. “Taehyung, please, I need you to fuck me.”

His reply startles you. “No.” You open your eyes and find him regarding you with such reverence that only confuses you more.

“No?”

Cupping your face in his palm as he props himself on his elbow over you, Taehyung leans down and kisses your nose. Then your mouth. “Y/N.” Your temple. “I want to.” Your ear. “Make love to you.”

He paints a constellation of wet kisses all over you.

“How does that sound, baby?”

You immediately pull him back onto your own lips, a desperate craving as you kiss him back hard. “I love you.” You really do. It’s the one thing you’re the most certain about in this world.

“Ahhh.” Readjusting over you yet still keeping the close distance between your faces, he takes his cock in his hand and pumps. “You know you do to me when you say those words?” He kisses you again, so softly that his lips feel like rose petals. As he lines his tips along your entrance, you shut your eyes and prepare for it.

“I love you.” You repeat. And he sinks in.

It feels different, so entirely different from the previous time tonight. There is not an ounce of concern, of doubt, of hesitancy. You feel safe underneath him, secure.

His tender moans unravelling into songs of vulnerability. “I love you, too.” He whispers into your ear, and you understand what he means by how much these three words have an effect because them alone are almost enough to capsize you again.

His thrust, though lacking its usual roughness, does not lack in anything else. Every time he plummets into you, his mouth finds yours. Your hands are interlocked, pinned down onto the pillow. The surprising intimacy of that act overflowing to the brim. And you swear you could see heaven right then and there.

You feel nothing but love and devotion throughout.

He makes love to you over and over again this night, Valentine’s night. And despite your usual preferences, the sensations between your legs, in your chest, in your mind, are unrivaled.

Transcendental.

When it’s all over, when you’re nothing more than sweaty skin, damp hair, and hearts full of love for each other, you spend your time taking in each other’s details. His unblemished complexion. The beauty mark under the lashes of his right eye. The perfect shape of his cupid's bow that doesn’t seem humanly possible. Everything.

“What we had didn’t work, but we’re not going to repeat those mistakes again, I won’t hurt you again, I promise.” You whisper softly as you caress his cheek. “It’s all or nothing. And you have all of me.”

The glaze over his sincere eyes hasn’t left yet, though you don’t suppose your eyes are completely dry either.

You continue, “Seeing you break down like that today was… the hardest thing for me to witness. So much worse that our stupid pointless fights, and the nights where I would cry myself to sleep. And I can’t apologise enough for causing you that much pain.”

Taehyung’s eyes trailing down bashfully, and you almost worry that he’d cry again.. “I… I can’t believe the day finally came where I cried during sex…” You let out a round of laughter at what he chooses to dwell on.

“I love you so much that it makes me sick. I’m honestly disgusted and mortified by myself.” You snicker in his hair.

“Look, what about me? I love you so much that I cried during sex. Not even just a tear either. Full on sobs. I think I’m the bigger loser here.” The fact that he can joke about the situation reassures you that he’s over it. The mood once again lightens.

“All this just because you couldn’t keep your dick in your pants during a heatwave.”

He pulls you closer into his rumbling chest, laughing to himself as he toys with your earlobe between his teeth.

You fall asleep in each other’s arms, for the first time as each other’s lovers. And for the rest of the nights that come after.

.

A/N: Alexa, play ‘Fuck it I love you’ by Lana Del Rey.

Thank you everyone for the incredible love and support you’ve unfailingly shown Heatwave. As my first fic, I am of course so very attached to these characters and ending this series is such a bittersweet feeling. It’s been such a lovely journey to write this couple and although I don’t plan on writing anything for them in the next few months, I won’t close off that possibility completely.

Love you!

- Kristy

.

27/04/20

© Copyright 2020

.

@taexxxiiaa @shookpreme @taetaeobsessed @tangledsparkles @nonexistentfucks @evilkookie @nbiased95 @shimtatae @taehyungmakesmeoof @itscalledgayhoney @tahaing @yes-another-wannabe-hipster-blog @deliciouslydisturbed365 @getmemyfries @expensive-bangtan-girl @jwlmnbt @herakimkim @dnyad @kaepjjang365 @angelswrld @expensive-bangtan-girl @icyi-sky @gingerpeachtae @spring2787 @monixreal @askingtheimportantthingshere @casualminiaturetimemachine @xblackclover13x @vasysauce @deadinsidebitch2412 @emiyooa @i-dont-even-know-fck @chimycthulhu @gixanjos @hisunshiine @xtaeyi @softjellyjimin @bluemooncnblue @malfeitofeitto @bangtanfancamp @keopitae @out-of-jams @camilaxpolanco @d-noona @haechanspudu @dawnispeace @vante-visuals @liquanzhe222 @bangtanloverrrrr @inner-monologue @bs14401 @seokjoontae @trviahope @comingjimin @jeonsshadow @hoseokinggggggg @honeyspillings @taeshotteok @embrace-themagic @wataemelonz @ftvante @kth-jae @sintatae @lunarnovaa @reputae @imajinative @haosmull8 @sssaltyasian @brilliantlybasicb @devilsadvocater @ladyartemesia @btsglitter @besosalvolar @jayparkjustchokeme @johnnyseotolemyheart @bubblegumyuss @octo-donut @ftvante @gia-the-mermaid @miss-peys @fantasticallyabnormal @hoseokinggggggg @kimtaecook @purplestar00paintblotch @taetaeismybaebae @jooachu @bringitseijoh @btsymasx @triviahope @bboyseventeenn @lpayne612 @misohime @petuliii @slutdropjin @kyelamarie 

[captainkurosolaire]

I challenge you to pick five Tumblrs in your social circle and tell them something you admire about their blog!

Only 5? I could probably do 500. However, that's determined by what's considered my social circle. I'm often in my head being incredibly social continuously is really a challenge of mine. I'm always actively marching to something, my flame of passion when I have it, I can do some crazy stuff but it diminishes relatively quickly, so I try to cling. But I'll up your thing and list 25 of my fave people. Ask me this same thing in a Month, I'll keep doing 25, until I do all the people. How about that? (If anyone wants to be taken off mention let me know.)

@eligos-venator

- Has one of the most intelligent and sophisticated minds, I've had the pleasure to know. Literally admire all his aesthetics, work, head-cannons, ideas. It's only a benefit that the dude shares some OC characteristics to my own (Winning features). I really enjoyed the short-thread we did. It was incomplete, mainly because of my faults. I want to actually be better to give him a proper delivery and RP worth his time, but he's incredibly worth the investment of eyes.

@mischiefandmystics

- If there was a Mount Rushmoore of writers who kept me in this endeavor, encouraged me. Sun'ra is one of them. His characterization skills, writing, the delivery and how believable his character is, they're masterful acts.

@mishivymendi

- I wouldn't be nearly tamed or as creatively freed if it wasn't for this gem. She broke my shell, I really didn't at a time ever see myself being anything really beyond a smut writer, but Mishi not only saw potential in me, but brought it out. Her stories and world's she brings to life are so majestically colorful.

@asymphonyofash

- My go-to. He's another pillar individual who saw things in me past just the obvious perception, (Probably second longest XIV RPer I know.) Taught me a lot of the lore, I shot him up and he's sort of become my stapled rock. He's right aside Sun'ra met them about the same, both took me under their wing's as I quietly observed and absorbed.

@lavender-hemlock

- We're always up and front with each other, never feeling like I couldn't say anything around, extremely rare to share that these days. Her gif's are legendary, something on my own terms I want to soar in quality. The writing she does is astounding. Character has so many mysterious pages that are quite addictive to want to explore and learn them. (Encore 20 below-cut)

@under-the-blood-moonlight - Her sweetness and artwork and overall is just a friendly presence to be around. I cherish them so much. One I can jive with more darker undertones with. She's one the most hardworking and ambitiously creative people. I'd mail them infinite hugs if could. Thanks for being you! @roxinova - I owe a lot of credit to her. She's constantly OOC and everything was nudging me too be more inclusive to things and involved heavenly. It's rare for me. I'm really horrible about that my autism sets me back socially, I constantly will be drowned by the next day and be reverted back to better off alone, that's my major crux and weakness. But her thoughtfulness, these things, aren't ever foreign to me, I do pay attention probably better than any would ever give me credit. She's a beacon model to have as a friend. @corpse-dancer - Haven't ran into many words with them, but her character, screenshot game, expressiveness, they're all a marvel to constantly see, alongside her attitude and bringing life character. I do think if I were better, we would click quite splendidly. They've recently reminded and motivated me to pick-up my daily-practice, or try too. Keep being a rockstar. @fair-fae - Few who wouldn't know who she is in this community. She's been in my opinion a huge core. I'm certain she's inspired many who weren't even RPers too try it by seeing her at the Quicksands or elsewhere, a tyme ago. Making no exception, I was even one of those. I used to be in QS every-single day and was often doing my shameless stuff. Though her presence first did show me there's a lot more. I admire her in all fields. Also appreciate her adopting me to the FC and her always thinking of others and giving events, or her aesthetics and portrayal, its the epitome of swan elegance. @thorcat - One of my most treasured friends. Been RPing with them for a longtime. There's never anything complicated between us or a rift of drama, it's just let's go and have fun. We really mesh well, I've welcomed nearly ever character and got the privilege to RP with nearly all them. They always open up envelope and help me, settle on back and just laugh. Whether used to be waking up to their characters humping my afk one or use randomly having a hardcore banter between Ufah and Captain and capturing them as a voidal pet. Memories with them isn't something I'd ever want to lose. I love ya! Never stop enjoying life for anything. @lukawarrioroflight - I get in the gutter find myself lacking motivation or writing, discouraged even... But I never have felt, I could ever do any wrong with this person, they bring the light out of me. So no matter what, how many hospital-beds I yearly visit, it's because of this rare nature, that I come back, even if they're the only one's ever to read my stuff. I would do it for them alone. @scholarlybreadbun - I've only been back recently and they've so much warmth. Their presence is the sun of inviting. The couple and posing all the shipping that stuff makes me even melt. I'm not particularly talented in regards to posing couples, but I took notice of them along time ago and set on quietly improving. Really like them for them, wouldn't ever want them to change that. Ideally look forward to be in their orbit longer so I can bask in them. @seascrapes - Been mutual with them for a while. Their aesthetics and character is all S+ level. I appreciate throwing back tagged prompts with them, one of many people I really think would be enjoyable to collab with any other seafarers. The artwork and pieces of Tal Brook, are breathtaking as ever exceptionally too, not to mention. Love your stuff matey, you're a king. @mai-takeda - Is a myth. Her absolutely sheer friendliness and her attitude, are so positive influencing, I was so thrilled to be welcomed with her and boosted by them early on. I couldn't see myself, wanting to exist where they didn't have happiness like the same she always delivers by just doing so many soft-things. Not to mention her writing... She's a whole world to throw yourself gazes

under. @zhauric - It doesn't go far either without the same breath of Mai, I could say about Zhauric. He's someone worthy to look-up and also recognize they're passionate and inviting, hoisting up literally everything. Could easily find any of their characters comrades with my own, or jiving alongside. Not to mention last XIVWrite, they slaughtered it. So enjoyable to read them all. I like how organized their blog is too, motivated me recently to redux my entire thing. @cadrenebula - They have so many diverse characters and their entire roster is vibrant and is imbued with a massive flux of life. They are able to encapsulate so many character's voices and portray them so effectively too, I really admire that greatly. They've made me think bigger and try myself recently at actually undertaking a huge roster of characters too. I've taken many breaks, but I always am so graciously returned often with them close-by and that's so incredibly sacred. I've seen a lot of people get discouraged or quit, leave, departure, etc. But they always seem to have a bigger house then they had last I took a break and I enjoy peaking in. @silvernsteel - Her artist and gif-work are awe-aspiring, there's little unrecognizable by her photo-sets and edits. They helped me even tip-toe into uncharted with giving me the recipes to try incorporating gifs into my arsenal. Plus so delightfully pleasant to actually talk with and just chill. I want nothing less in life, than the beauty they give, to be returned to them for eternity in all their glorious air. If ever needed anything of me, they've got me. @spotofmummery - We talk about passion or friendliness or overall a person to even remotely try to be, I got to include them. Their web-series and writing, screen-work, everything they do is fantastic. And that's furthered back nearly any I've met showcase or immortalize how just genuine of stellar person they are. I wish them always the energy to create and sparks. @snow-covered-moon - They've never been anything less but absolutely a diamond to know. I enjoy their character, their almost always abundant of energy that's very rub inducing. Their WoL character stories, writing, screen-shots, everyday they open up a new pandora box of joy, there's no mistaken love behind their character and that's infectiously easy to also enjoy something when the author does too. Always healthy to be around, I never feel short of vitality when they're close-by. @letheofthelost - Always cheerful or least encapsulates with me, they're a carnival ride. Just pure epic story-telling and engaging equally as passionate, constantly writing characters, not looking for anything outside of RP or anything really just being their selves, they fade all others. I love their presence, them as a person. Enjoy any character they'll ever come and throw under me, or a change of pace. Always feels easily understandable between one another. @crow-iv - Together we're an unfiltered, unstoppable wake of pure passionate writers and art. But I would say they're far ahead of me, in every regard. Already able to portray multiple characters in a scene and do such in-depth thinking, alongside even sketch or draw right afterwards or a scene. They're so talented, huge reason I set-out on giving them a Crew of cast and actual stories to-tell when I'm actually caught up and if they interested and we both have the room, I really think if further myself, I can be better and supply more for them to draw and I want to see them soar. I want to give them all my improvements and effectiveness. @trishelle - They've such a reinforcing personality and aura around them that easily bolsters anything that dares thinking they're about to be depleted so energizing. Aesthetics, characters, all them are so lively that further compliment their own mun's great welcoming presence. Worth hundreds of smiles and stars, keep high. Wish I had more time to dedicate to learning you! But I do notice and appreciate you. @fracturedfantasia - One of my people, I like to retreat and just talk my full

head-cannons with or learn, share insightful and inquisitive thoughts about philosophies and multi-culture things. Or plotting and in-general, they're a well of information and brimming ideas, they are every making of what makes a quality friend. When you can generally be open-about-all that's a real one right there. Their characters and tarot readings, I always would implore if they're offering. Thanks for giving me any-time. You're truly a treasure. @violet-warder - Never have even came to words with them yet unfortunately but didn't mean as a mutual, I haven't admired all their screenies, writing, or the aesthetics they bring of their character. Glamours is real end-game, I like all what you've done and put together. I care strictly about what represent and give, I don't want to see them ever think anyone want's them gone, they are abundantly so talented and possess things only they can deliver. I think recently came back too, and I'm glad to share, hopefully, overtime I can build you better up. Or eventually even talk, but I'm certain you are a busy-body person too, so we're relatable. @layla-grey - I have a lot of underline issues that set me back as a flawed person, but I've never not been anything but someone who's open, it's why I always do include my f-list in anything or etc. I'm not here to present this facade, and really don't care to be an image crafted by another. No one as of recently or now, am I close with as an RP partner or friend with then this stunning masterpiece. I never let-up on story-telling or anything so I can eventually use my Crew or other Characters, to give them anytime a master entertaining day, they push me to not be short-changed. IC and OOC I would devote my full attention too cause they've never shed from me. Didn't ever matter how much silence or anything, they're always around. And don't expect anything out of me or pressure. Just accept me and I equally share that sentiment, I want you to have everything in this world has to offer. ----- This is just a fraction of people, I've paid attention, noticed or know. I've been around in this Community for many years. There's a lot of things I could say about it, more probably then anyone else. But what matters to me, is recognizing the people who are here, that work hard, build others up, support, constantly are a beam. I don't need to interact with everyone, to know when someone is generally out for good. Or they're out for bad I've learned inquisitiveness longtime ago, I had to survive and remain afloat. I just go out and be me, and along the way, I get to find people like these, who help bring out the best me. I am nothing without these people, creators, writers, artist. I'm a terrible friend, horrible person, I don't have the energy to interact NEARLY with as much as I'd like with you all, If I could clone myself, or if things were different, I would drop it all to be in your orbits more if could. But, do know I appreciate you. And even if you ever do depart from this whole community or anything, know that anything you share, or give, that stuff does matter, somewhere, someone was aspired, if nothing else, by me. ONLY you can give the worlds you see and I am thankful. Do love yourself.

[yongtxt]

hundred [johnny]

word count: 4.5k words

characters: boxer!johnny x doctor!reader

genre: fluff

warnings: blood/wound/stitches mentions, johnny hates hospitals but he likes the pretty doctor, [im not a doctor nor a boxer pls dont say that i have info wrong because I Know]

author’s note: i know this isnt long to some of u but to me it is and i havent written this much for so long im so proud of myself for finishing this:( it isnt that good but this is the first long fic ive written in a while and shhsdjk also i needed to get this out of my system ive thought about this au since that jcc came out where johnny and hyuck was doing muay thai plssss (i couldnt find a better gif tho) ok this is getting too long / feedback is appreciated tysm

Johnny Suh hated hospitals with a burning passion.

It wasn't from a past trauma nor was he afraid of it, it wasn't that serious. He wasn't exactly sure what the cause of it really was. If he had to make a guess, it was probably from the accumulation of the little things, the insignificant factors people would usually dismiss but bothered him enough that it contributed to the big hatred he built for hospitals.

Maybe it was the distinct smell of hospitals, it reeked of death and old people. Maybe it was the atmosphere of the fluorescent-lit hallways, always gloomy and heavy. Maybe it was also the fact that the fees were so expensive and yet the food they provide tasted horrible, even the coffee was a hit or miss. The only upside he could think of was people get better in hospitals, but even that wasn't assured.

Despite how much Johnny despised hospitals, he always finds himself coming back. If he wanted to get better, he had no choice but to go. He would endure the gruesome process over and over again whether it be to treat his wounds or to stitch his cuts.

With his jaw littered with small bruises and his lips busted at the corner, he sat impatiently on the hospital bed as he waited for his doctor. He was fiddling with his fingers, knuckles bruised the same way his face was. He looked beaten up, he always did.

The clothes he wore contradicted the state he was in, they were fresh and laid back. He looked like a college student from the way he dressed. A delinquent more like, if one considered his cuts and bruises. Before heading to the hospital, he always makes it a point to shower and make himself appear presentable to the public. Although no one really bothers to take notice of his effort, only him.

The sliding door opened and Johnny's attention shot up from his phone, his gaze meeting with yours. Your head popped in, peaking through the small crack you made. Your eyes lit up in recognition as it always did whenever you see him.

"Youngho-ssi?" You spoke almost as if it was a question, voice barely above a whisper to make sure you were in the correct room, about to tend the correct patient.

Johnny didn't understand why you always did that, call out his name as if this was the first time you were seeing him. At that point, you've been already acquainted with him enough due to his numerous trips to the hospital. Either way, he nods every time.

You gave him a small smile, widening the door enough so you could enter. You wore a white lab coat, a name tag pinned to your chest and a stethoscope hung around your neck. You were small, although anyone compared to him was bound to be comparatively smaller – that wasn't the point, you looked young and that never fails to astound him every time you go through the door.

You had a clipboard in your hands, scanning through what he assumed to be his condition that a nurse had written earlier after a quick checkup and disinfection of his open wound. Your lips were formed on a tight line, eyebrows furrowed. He continued to stare at you with such amusement.

"You don't have to answer my question, Youngho-ssi, but why are you always here?" You finally broke the silence, startling him in the slightest. You never bothered to ask before, always just offering smiles and small talks while you did your work; maybe his sudden regularity of coming to the hospital recently made your curiosity peaked.

He couldn't blame you. Anybody would be curious why a 24-year-old man keeps coming back to the hospital with no clear explanation.

He cleared his suddenly dry throat, he never liked saying his job. He said, "I box for a living."

"Ah, that makes sense!" Your eyes visibly glimmered, absentmindedly jotting down notes on his medical records. "My coworkers and I thought you were in a gang or something."

"I don't think I would be allowed to be here if I was." He chuckled, making you giggle as well.

"Seo Youngho, 24, minor lip laceration in need of immediate suture." You read of his data from the clipboard, almost comically. It was medical terms he was unfortunately already too familiar with, to him, it basically meant that he had a busted lip that needs to be sewed shut.

"You can just call me Johnny. Youngho sounds too formal to me." He said nonchalantly. You nodded your head to his simple request; it probably was best if you got to know him better since he frequented the hospital so much.

"Alright, Johnny. We'll start the process now, okay?"

With keen eyes, he watched you slip on a pair of surgical gloves. You grabbed a tissue from the metal tray that sat beside him and began folding it into squares. He felt his heartbeat quicken, he hated getting stitches or any form of medical treatments for that matter, but as morbid as it was, he thought of it as punishment for his recklessness in the ring.

"Isn't boxing just, I don't know, senseless violence?" You asked, tone dripping with pure innocence and unadulterated interest as you gently dabbed away the remaining dried blood the nurse failed to clean earlier.

"It's a sport, it's how I bring money to the table." He pursed his lips, ignoring the twinge of pain that surged through his nerves. He visibly relaxed when you placed a hand onto his shoulder to reassure him.

Ever since the first time you got assigned to him, the first thing he took note of was the softness of your hands. You handled him as if he was fragile glass, despite how he easily towered over you. He felt pathetic as a 24-year-old but your gentle touches would greatly help put him at ease.

"I guess. I didn't mean to be rude." You were hesitant, Johnny could tell but he was glad you didn't push on any further. He couldn't handle explaining his occupation when you were about to pierce his skin. "Okay, Johnny, now that your lip is clean and the anesthesia had seeped in, we'll start. I think you know how it goes by now."

"Make it quick, please." He nodded, squinting his eyes shut at the mere contact of a surgical pen grazing over his gaped lips. You were relieved that his cut wasn't too big, you couldn't stomach the idea of putting him in too much pain for longer.

As you picked up the tweezers and string of nylon, you couldn't help but laugh at the six-foot boxer in front of you who was clearly petrified of getting stitches, "This will be done as soon as you know it. You won't really feel it because of the anesthesia, remember? Now count to a hundred backward for me."

Once the numb feeling of nylon dragged through his lips, he swore he saw white spots flicker in his vision. His eyes immediately watered and he tried his best not to squirm under your hold, beginning to count to a hundred backward like you had instructed him to. You admitted it to him the first time you stitched him that it was a trick that you learned from your pediatrician friend. Despite it being for children, it helped to get him distracted while you focused on your job.

Minutes felt like hours, Johnny had been fighting the urge to punch something, anything, to release tension and nerves. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he took a peak and tried to take his attention away from what was currently happening on his lip. His gaze landed on your pretty eyes, how it was narrowed in focus and how your lashes perfectly framed it.

This wasn't the first time he'd observe you up close, there had been many occasions in the past that you had been too close for comfort in order to tend his wounds. It had been too many that it was almost as if he was close to memorizing your features. You were not only beautiful but you were also a smart and capable doctor.

Eventually, you finished and started to rub ointment on his sore lip — the finishing line.

"Try not to eat anything spicy or hard. You know the drill." You grinned at his suddenly pale features, ripping off your gloves as his eyes adjusted to the bright lights of the room. "You're good to go. Be careful next time."

He let out a shaky breath, clearly still winded up from the procedure, "I'll try. Thanks again, doc."

-

The punching bag felt great against Johnny's fists. There wasn't a feeling in the world that could compare to the impact of leather slamming against his skin. He could last hours mindlessly pummeling the bag if his stamina just allowed him to.

Hyunsik, Johnny's manager and personal trainer, drew away from the punching bag he held in between his arms. He let out a breath and held out a hand to motion that Johnny has done enough.

Johnny was hurting, Hyunsik could see that much. The bandages he had wrapped for the boxer's fingers were turning into a shade of red that they were all too familiar with.

Hyunsik clicked his tongue, "You should've used your gloves."

"How can I grow stronger if I keep relying on them?" Johnny rolled his eyes. His muscles needed a boost and this seemed to be the only logical way to strengthen them — a little blood never hurt anybody.

"Someday you're gonna fracture your hand and you'll be forced out of the ring. Remember that." Hyunsik huffed, his voice stern. "Take them off, I'll clean the blood off."

Johnny reluctantly did as told, unfurling the bandages wrapped around his fingers. The pain was excruciating when the fabric grazed along his tender skin, he winced at the unsightly view of his reopened wounds.

Hyunsik led him back outside of the ring to the benches where the first aid kit was. He made the boxer sit down so he could start cleaning off his wounds. It looked horrific, more so than it usually did and he had no choice but to break the news to Johnny.

"It looks really bad. You need to go get that checked in the hospital and have it sewed back." Hyunsik said, taking a wet towel and carefully dabbing it across Johnny's bloodied knuckles.

He didn't want to go to the hospital. Going to the hospital to have his wounds treated meant that Johnny would be medically required to take days off work to let his hand heal. Johnny frowned, "Don't you have an ointment or something that could help? I can't afford to lose a day of practice."

"Don't you think I know that?" Hyunsik rolled his eyes. "As your manager, I want you to be in top shape for your match next week, even if it means sacrificing a day or two for you to heal."

Johnny could only nod. He sat through Hyunsik's lecture on the changes he should make to his dietary plan and the exercises he should do during his temporary break. It infuriated him that he couldn't do anything about it but nod along.

The incoming match that was set next week would make or break his career as an underground boxer. He didn't have the option of missing it because of some measly reopened wounds. If he had to rest to get better, he had no choice but to suck it up. This was his fault anyway for pushing himself too much.

Johnny showered in the locker rooms and changed into nicer clothes that didn't reek of blood and sweat. His hands were stinging but he shook it off.

He ignored the concerned looks other boxers were giving him and begrudgingly made his way to the hospital to get himself checked in. You wouldn't be happy to see him all bloodied again, he thought.

-

Much to Johnny's surprise, it wasn't you who was assigned to him. It was a much older doctor with graying hair and a nose stuck too far up in the air. She was rude and condescending, her lack of politeness to her patients was quite appalling. If Johnny wasn't in such a bad mood, he might've complained already.

God, this day couldn't get any worse.

With a meek voice, Johnny asked where you were and at the mention of your name, his doctor gave him a narrowed look. She sneered, "She's handling much more important cases. Does she know you?"

"I think so." Johnny gulped, unsure of the answer himself.

The doctor's grip was tight and she was hasty. It was as if she was trying to speed through the process to just get it over with. Johnny wanted to cry because he was starting to get traumatized by this doctor's procedure, he didn't want to hate the hospital more than he already did.

He internally screamed for your name as he watched the doctor pull on the gloves. The sliding door harshly whipped open and there you were in all your glory, like an angel sent from above to save him from the devil incarnate who was about to pierce his skin.

You were panting and the sheen on your forehead made it obvious that you ran your way to his room. Johnny's heart leaped with glee.

"Unnie, I'll handle him." You said, unable to catch your breath as you made your way inside. "I think the ER needs you more than me."

The doctor seemed hesitant at first but you tried to convince her otherwise. She eventually agreed and left you with Johnny who had a cheesy smile on his face the entire time since you've arrived.

"So Johnny, what happened this time?" You asked, picking up the clipboard that sat next to him on the bed.

"I overdid the punching during training and it reopened some old wounds on my knuckles. It hurts like a bitch."

You pulled a face, "That's a bit intense."

He chuckled, "It's normal."

"Can I please see it?" You opened your palm so he could place his hand on yours. You observed his cuts and the scabs that were beginning to form around it, it was too deep to let it heal on its own so you made the verdict that he needed to get it sewed back together ⁠— as unfortunate as it was since he was a boxer and he needed his hands to box.

You tugged on a new pair of gloves and began the painful procedure, Johnny started counting down even without you instructing him to. You quickly got to work and stitched back his wounds with your lip in between your teeth

Johnny felt squeamish, he could never get used to the feeling of stitches. His eyes were glued shut and he mumbled numbers like it was mantra.

Once you were done, you smiled fondly at your work. You managed to get by with fewer stitches and you felt pride swell up in your chest. Johnny noticed and, as lightheaded as he was, couldn't help but smile as well.

"You're pretty good."

"At stitching?"

Johnny nodded with his cheeks flushed, he made a mental reminder to smack himself in the head later for such a crude comment. You probably thought he was an idiot now.

"I sure hope so." You chuckled, making him blush even deeper if that was even possible. "It's part of my job."

Johnny shook his head in embarrassment, his dark hair bouncing from how vigorously he did it. He mumbled, "That sounded really lame and not smooth, I'm sorry. Please forget I opened my mouth."

You could only chuckle as you apply the ointment around his knuckles. He wanted the ground to open up and just swallow him whole.

"Please let this heal completely, Johnny. Don't apply any strain on your injuries for a couple of days and refrain yourself from carrying anything heavy so that the stitches won't rip." You said, carefully placing down his hand back on his knee. You were gentle as ever, Johnny swooned. "Absolutely no punching for a while."

"I have an important match at the end of next week. Is there any way to speed up the healing process?" Johnny asked, his eyes were almost pleading at you and you blinked at him in surprise.

"Apart from what I just said, there's really nothing else you could do." You pursed your lips, watching his expression visibly deflate. "If you want to have even a sliver of a chance at winning your match, I suggest you do as I say. Your stitches won't take too long to heal, I promise."

If Hyunsik was there with him, he would've probably already scolded him but the point would be the same. He had always prioritized Johnny's health above winning.

"Okay, doc. I'll do my best." Johnny said, defeated.

"You know, I always see the aftermath of your matches and your training. I want to see you in the ring next time when you're not bloody and beaten up yet." You smiled at him and you swore that all the color that was previously drained from Johnny's face came rushing back. "If it's okay."

"Are you serious?" Johnny asked, almost dumbfounded. Did the pretty doctor he'd been crushing on for months really just asked if she could watch his match?

You nodded with the same hue of red now tainting your cheeks.

"O-Of course! It's on Saturday next week! Please come and cheer me on!" Like a little kid, he excitedly rambled on about the details about the upcoming match and you nodded with the same enthusiast as you wrapped bandages around his hands.

You weren't from his world so everything he said sounded foreign to you. The terms he said, the infamy of his opponents, the prominence of it all — you were eager to learn it if it meant seeing him this happy.

You've always known that he hated hospitals. It was clear from the way he acted during your first meeting. He was stiff and tense, the body language he exuded just screamed that he wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of there. As he visited the hospital more and more, you noticed the hatred never faltered. He only became better at hiding it from you.

To see him so relaxed and carefree within the four walls he hated with all his being, it was a breath of fresh air and the feeling you had in your chest grew stronger.

"You're good to go. I promise to see you in your match." You were jotting some last-minute details on the clipboard and you missed the way Johnny kept grinning like an idiot. "As much as I love seeing you here, I hate that you keep getting yourself injured. Keep out of trouble for me, Johnny."

You left the room without letting Johnny say another word.

Fuck, Johnny realized he hadn't asked for your number.

-

Johnny's match started in ten minutes. His heart was pounding in his ears, he almost couldn't hear what Hyunsik was shouting to him.

The underground stadium was filled to the brim with people, he felt more nervous than he did during his first boxing match. A lot was at stake for this win, he needed the belt. He was desperate for it.

"Johnny, are you listening to me?" Hyunsik raised his voice, aggressively slapping Johnny's cheeks together in his hands so he could focus on him. The boxer's mind was fleeting and it was his job to pull him back to reality now.

He hadn't seen you since last week and as much as he wanted to go back to the hospital to see you, he refused to badly hurt himself in the days that led up to the match. Johnny scanned the crowd for your face but he couldn't see it. You weren't there.

At the lack of your turnout, he failed to mask his disappointment. Hyunsik let out an aggravated groan and pulled the boxer on his feet to berate him further.

"Johnny, please for the love of all things holy, look me in the eye."

"I'm sorry. I'm okay now. I'm listening."

"Good because your match is starting soon and I need you to win this. All your hardships and sacrifices boils down to this match, you hear me?" Hyunsik bellowed, trying his best to keep his voice louder than the cries and chants of the audience. "Show them what Johnny Suh is capable of!"

Johnny nodded fervently, forcing himself into a state of serenity of peacefulness. He let out heavy breaths to even out his breathing as his team surrounded him, prepping him for what was about to come.

Hyunsik raised his hand at Johnny. He had five minutes left until his match started and he wasn't calming down.

"Can I please have some water?" Johnny asked and his medic stumbled on his feet to fetch him a bottle from the nearby cooler. He couldn't help but let out a shaky chuckle, his team seemed tenser than he was.

He downed the bottle as soon as it reached his hand. His hand was shaky. Goddammit, why was he so nervous?

At the corner of his eye, he saw Hyunsik making his way over to the barricade that separated his corner to the rest of the stadium. He arched his neck in a way that would let him take a peek what was so important that Hyunsik had to leave his side when the match was starting in a few minutes.

It seemed like Hyunsik was trying to stop a girl who was forcing her way in through the barricade. His stomach lurched at the sight of her familiar face.

As if he was acting purely on instinct, Johnny shot up from his seat and ran towards you. Hyunsik held up his arm to stop him from going any closer to you. You could've been a deranged fan, for all Hyunsik knows.

"Johnny-"

"I know her."

Hyunsik was startled at his response and started to profusely apologize to you. You looked nothing but smug and Johnny let out a breathy laugh that helped unravel the knots in his stomach. The boxer quietly motioned for him to take his leave and Hyunsik hesitantly did as told only after tapping his wrist as a sign that time was ticking.

You bowed at him apologetically, "I'm so sorry I'm late! There was this damn patient-"

"It's okay. You're here now." He cut you off, a cheesy smile on his face. You easily reciprocated it back.

"I just came down here to wish you good luck." You said with the usual confidence in your tone gone and now replaced with a sudden timidness and bashfulness. "Not like you need it or anything."

"Where are you sitting?" Johnny asked, noticing that you were struggling to keep your attention on his eyes. He peered down and realized that he didn't have a shirt on, he chuckled.

You pointed near the walls of the stadium and he strained his vision to see so far away. He pursed his lips and let out a noise of discontent. You said that it was the only seats available because you were so late.

"Why don't you sit here with them? They wouldn't mind." Johnny said, jutting his thumb over to his team who was furtively watching his interaction.

"Oh no, it's okay."

"I insist. I want you to see me win up close."

You blushed a deep shade of scarlet and Johnny grinned at his successful attempt at a flirt. Was it even a flirt or was it an ego stroke? Either way, it didn't matter because you were smiling at him. You were easing his nerves and you didn't even know.

"I got out of my shift early so I wouldn't be in the hospital later to stitch you up." You teased, softly prodding his shoulder blade.

Johnny playfully puffed out his chest, "I don't plan on getting too injured today, I wanna look cool in front of you."

"Whatever you say, Johnny."

"But I'm nervous. I'm actually really nervous today." Johnny mumbled as if he didn't want anyone else in on your conversation, gone all traces of his cockiness as his heart thudded erratically against his chest when he heard Hyunsik's call of the last minute until he has to go inside the ring.

You gingerly reached for his taped hands and gave it a gentle squeeze, "Just count back from a hundred like I always tell you to. You'll do fine."

"Wait for me after the match, okay?" And so you did.

Counting down the numbers, Johnny clambered inside the ring and the bell rang to signal the start of the match. Being in the medical field meant that you were against all forms of violence so you couldn't really watch the entirety of the match without feeling sick to your stomach. Johnny didn't care, he was just happy that you kept your promise and was cheering him on.

It was hectic and everything was happening all at once. It was loud and everybody was screaming. This wasn't your world, it was Johnny's and your heart fluttered at the thought that he was willing to let you in it.

Eventually, the match ended in Johnny's favor and the next thing you knew, you were being hoisted up in the air. You had the biggest smile on your face, similar to Johnny's who now had a shiny belt slung over his shoulder. All his hard work and all his trips to the hospital paid off.

"Congrats on your win!" You exclaimed, placing your palms on his chest to steady yourself.

"I wanted you to see me get the belt." He admittedly sheepishly, reaching out to hold your wrists in his bruised hands.

"Aren't you hurt in any way? We can drop by the hospital if you want." You asked, checking to see if he had any major injuries but true to his word, Johnny was inflicted little to no injuries during the match, exclude the few bruises on his jaw and a busted lip

"Actually, I'd rather we get some coffee instead." Johnny said, the small smile on his lips making you chuckle.

"I'm sorry, I don't date my patients." You smirked at Johnny's crestfallen expression, softly shoving his side to make it known that you were only joking.

Johnny pulled a face, releasing a breath he didn't realize he was holding once he realized your joke. He played along, "I think you can make me an exception, I don't usually invite people to my matches."

"So this is about getting even, huh?" You were teasing him and now your faces were merely inches apart but before Johnny could even think of leaning in, you spun around and grabbed his hand once more. "C'mon then, my treat!"

Johnny let out a laugh. A boxer and a doctor, who would've thought?

[boneswriteswords]

Just A Little Longer - Michelangelo

A/N: Here is my self indulgent Mikey goodtime lime. Let me live. (It isn’t a lime. Its a lemon. But lime rhymes with time.)

Unbeta’d because no one has the time for editing.

Also I have no idea if any of it makes sense so.....

~~~~~~

The bright neon LED lights of the alarm clock on your nightstand stood guard over you as you blinked awake. 2:04am. Awareness came slowly, your eyes dripping sleep even as the rest of you came online. You shifted, extending your body into a stretch, grinning when a muffled groan erupted from behind you.

A thick leg forced its way between yours. A heavy arm landed across your abdomen. A hard chest molded into your back.

Beyond your apartment walls, sounds of the city rage on. Waves of muted color trickle through the crack in your black-out curtains. Lines of yellow light bleed over the room. There are police sirens passing by as the house party three doors down blasts the newest Ariana Grande album. Someone honks their car horn in vicious repetition. If you strain, you can hear an muffled fighting and the shuffling of clothes as it turns physical.

All the noises harmonize and fade into nothing as you flip over, encouraging the limbs of your bed partner to stay entangled with yours. You’ve lived in the city long enough that the noises and the people and the lights don’t register much to you unless you focus on them. You know the sounds of danger from the sounds of the loud and that’s all you really need to know. Rainbow noise guided you, filtering through all the memories that you have access to you, and anything less has no space in your life.

Quiet nights are eerie after years of noise and you are more than happy having Mikey hold you in bed while the world keeps going around you.

REM does not return after closing your eyes again and you concede to being awake. It isn’t awful, not with the way Mikey clutches onto you as he shuffles - head nuzzling into whatever crevice he can reach. You can tell he is waking.

He can never remain asleep if he feels you are awake. He struggles to remain in a plan of existence where you aren’t. He fights himself awake and you never know if you need to be concerned or flattered by it.

You watch the lights as they bounce off objects in your room before looking back at him. Blurry lines. Soft shapes. Calming motions as they dance back and forth. They are beautiful but you’d much rather look at Mikey.

He has an arm curled loosely over your side while the other is resting under the pillow you both were using. You both liked long thick pillows that went from one side of the bed to the other. A small commonality made sweeter by your domesticity. His hand is curled limply and you remember that he had been stroking your head when you had fallen asleep earlier.

The muted light makes his green skin lighter. Shadows dip into the crevices of his skin and scars, revealing texture you usually only can feel. There is a darkness under his jaw and around his eyebrow ridge. You find yourself tracing the lines of shadow and light with your eyes, hurling the idea that anything could be more captivating out of the window. His breath is steady but his eyes are twitching behind his eyelids.

You see his eyes open. Three blinks and he is awake. You are jealous of how easy it is for him to go from one state of being to the next. He falls asleep quickly and he awakens even quicker. Deep blue eyes find yours and he smiles, moving his arm to drag you the tiniest bit closer. His lips twitch as he draws slow circles in the space between your shoulder blades.

There is an ache in your body, a reminder of the way he had rushed into your apartment as soon as the sun was down. The impact into the wall. Manic energy. Breathless laughter as pent-up passion bubbled over.

Your fingers trace down the side of his face, dipping down from the line of his throat to the pools of his collarbones below his plastron. He churrs the tiniest bit in response and it sounds a lot like the noise he makes when you tease the skin of his neck between your teeth.

You can’t leave marks on him. His skin just doesn’t color the ways a human’s might. Its thicker. Denser. Darker. Scalier. You can’t leave scratches either. It was a bit disappointing to find this out but knowing that he’d enjoy your marks if he was able to have them seizes you in ways you have never experienced. You imagine lining little rouge starbursts down his next and across the broadness of his shoulders and the way he would walk around with them proudly. Red lines connecting red flowers like vines.

His eyes scan over you. He is visual.

Its not always like this. You and him alone. Some nights its you and Mikey and the ghosts that follow you both. There are eyes in the shadows and they have many names and you never know who you are speaking to. They lurk while he cleans his weapons in the living room. They boldly take a seat next to you while you watch a movie tucked under his arm. Some nights, you pull up a seat at the table and serve them as Mikey makes a joke about something that happened during your day.

They exist and they try to make their home in your spaces and they take a toll on the nights when you are too weary to kick them out. A mix-match of traumas that spiral and float and smother and linger.

Mikey doesn’t just wear his heart on his sleeve. He rips open his chest and holds the organ up into the light directly. Makes you watch as it beats and pulses and moves his lifeblood through his body. There are no questions about what he does, how he feels. He is on display by choice, flitting about vulnerable as if there are no monsters in the world he lives in.

But there are days where he wraps himself up behind a glass wall to separate himself from the rest of the world. Deep-rooted hopelessness drains his light, his strength a house of cards edging towards collapse. His voice cracks and wavers. Its never his fault. No one asks for trauma. No one asks to be too late. No one asks for the life he’s lived.

Only recently has a door appeared in the glass. He always tells you where the key is so you can open it. You make sure to crack open the door and wait for him to invite you in further. If he does, you sit inside with him. If he doesn’t, you sit outside and wait for the wall to come down.

And then there are the days where you are translucent. You look down at your body and see through it, faintly incorporeal. A ghost. Light bleeds through you as you walk under the sun. Intangible and lost. You don’t feel real even as your ribs ache and the steady stream of your heartbeat remains. All that exists is quiet breathing.

All your worst nightmares are of you reaching out to hold Mikey’s hand but it goes through him. You can’t grip onto him and he walks away because he can’t see you.

Mikey tells you that he sees you. He grips your hand and squeezes and pulls you in close on the off chance that you feel like your floating away. He won’t let you but he doesn’t begrudge your fear. No one asks for the life you’ve lived.

Jeers erupt from outside but neither of you flinch. You just lean closer into each other. Mikey runs his hand up and down your spine, eyes wet, and you are astounded once more how stubbornly he loves you. How intensely he feels for you. How he believes so much that you both are it. The endgame.

You wish you could take the shadows that live behind his eyes and demand they leave. “You can’t have him,” you imagine you’d say, “He is mine. And I’m not scared of you. I love him too much.” If that meant pulling a seat up for them in the living room and offering them a whiskey laced with intention, you’d do it.

Mikey’s hand slips under your night shirt, his palm flat against the skin of your back and you melt against him. You have studied those hands and all the ways they make you feel things and you exhale harshly and slowly so as to not disturb the rays of muted light.

“You doing okay?” Mikey asks, voice dripping with drowsiness despite the awareness present in his baby blues. “Its late. Or early. Whatever. Was it a nightmare?”

“No baby,” you respond, pressing your mouth against his beak, “No nightmares tonight.”

“Good.”

You press another kiss to his beak before ducking down a little and pressing another one to the side of his mouth. The arm under the blanket shifts. His fingers stroke your head.

There is a lull.

“I love you.”

Its comes out unexpectedly but you aren’t ashamed of it. He already knows. That relationship milestone has long since passed. Even so, the words are splintered, cracked around the edges and easy to be drowned out by the sounds of screeching tires on the road and idiots on the street.

But the impact is till the same. The look he gives you is blue fire and he guides you closer for a kiss. It starts off light, gentle, a nudge against your mouth but his fingers cradled the back of your head as he deepens it. “Love you too. So much” is mumbled as he presses further into you.

Arousal simmers on the back-burner as an afterthought. You had fucked hard earlier - a frenzy, a reconnection after a week of only facetime calls and voice memos that left you worked up and over. You know you will fuck again when the sun is up because Mikey loves starting the days off right when you are both in the same place.

Right now is the time to relearn the shape of his mouth as he kisses you lazily. You pull back slowly. You stare at him and he stares at you, movements slow.  

A beat.

Two.

Three.

“You remember the talks we had?” you whisper before you could stop, brushing your nose over his, “when we had just met? The ones that lasted days at time?”

“Yeah,” he responds, his voice low, “That was a long time ago but I do. I don’t think I could ever forget.” There are flashes of light behind his eyes and you know he remembers each call. Each text thread that was either memes or philosophical questions that had you trying to unearth the truth of the universe. Each conversation that spanned days because real life creates lulls between responses.

“I fell in love with you there,” you whisper back, “Somewhere in those calls, I turned over to look into the phone and realized that you were mine and there would never be anyone else for me.”

“Yeah?” its a soft question that, from the look on his face, doesn’t require an answer, “You too?” You nod anyway. He deserves to see it.

He grins.

“I’m glad that we took our time,” you continue, wiggling as his hand scratches at your back the tiniest bit, “I like that we are friends. I like that I can say “Mikey is my best friend” when they ask me about my boyfriend. I’m glad that I got the chance to like you.”

“I like you too angel,” he whispers, his voice getting softer, warmth bleeding in the spaces between words. Heat singes around his eyes, “I like you so much.”

You hold him tighter, “no one knows my soul like you do.”

Mikey surges forward to kiss you again, his hand running down from your back to the side of your thigh. He rolls you both so he is half on top of you, maneuvering a thigh between your legs and pressing your chests touch as he slips his tongue between your waiting lips. You arms reach up to rest along the broadness of his shoulders, fingers dancing along the lip of his shell.

When he pulls back, his breathing is harsh, “you know mine angel.”

There is a sense of peace with knowing that all your exposed parts are being kept safe. The storms pass. Smoke is cleared. Petrichor sweetens the air. The dead are laid to rest so flowers can grow on their remains. The sun is bright.

Between you, pleasure kindles slowly. Hands roam and tug and cup. Kisses are scattered like constellations. There are murmurs of praise and whispers of awe. Time blurs as you sink down into it.

Mikey brushes his lips along the side of your face as he glances as the clock, the sun peeking its head above the skyline from the window, “Do you want me now?”

“Now.” You punctuate the word with a roll of your hips against his thigh. “I want to feel you.”

He sighs under his breath, hands shifting you until you are where he wants you. Your night clothes are removed and dropped by the side of your bed. His shorts follow, landing right on top of yours. He nestles firmly between your open thighs. “Okay angel. You can have me. You can have everything.”

The vulnerability in his voice shakes you. The slide of his cock into you has you gripping onto him. He draws it out, indulgent in the way you stutter and writhe against him. Its a seamless fit, despite his size. You are still prepped from earlier, wet and accommodating, and he drips like a faucet.

Mikey had never known sex could be like this. He always expected that sex would be purely physically, a thing that couples did to feel good and sate any hormonal urges. No one ever told him about how it feels when hands grip onto him, leaving trails of sparks and comets and tingles across his body that linger for days. No one ever told him that his lovers moans could vibrate along his vertebrate and resonate in the parts of his unknown. The void in his chest fills with liquid gold when he hears his named sobbed against his skin.

You hadn’t known either.

And even though you both do now, even though you crave each other more fiercely than you crave air, it always feels new when you collide. Every sensation has been redefined. Vulnerability has never felt so powerful.

You cry as you feel his cock pulse inside of you as he bottoms out and grinds forward. He grunts, his arms keeping your hips flush against his.

“How do you always feel so good?” Words emphasized with deep thrusts. Hard, slow, tapering into a grind before pulling back out. ”Always so good for me. Meant for me. Made for me to love. Made to take me.”

“Yes,” you hiss back, breath hot against his neck. Mikey adjusts, one of his hands remaining on your hip while the other slides to grip your arms behind your back. He presses you flush against his plastron, back arched off the bed and supported by the strength in his arms as he holds you. “Meant for you. And you found me.”

The casual, effortless show of strength spreads a warm haziness across your mind. You lean into it.

“Fuck - Mi...I-” There are tears in your eyes as you gasp and shudder as Mikey picks up the pace. Without warning, your mouth is covered by his and you can feel his smile against yours. A laugh bubbles up from somewhere and tapers off as the kiss turns hungry.

“Shh I have you,” he gasps between his own pleasured noises, “I have you. You are safe here. What do you need?” His hand strokes along your face as he rocks into you. His voice is breathless but full of intent. “Tell me what you want.”

“Everything,” you babble as he grind right up against your good spot, “I want everything with you.”

He groans, breathing deep as the colors blur into shapes. He tucks his arm back under you, grinding harder, your clit catching along the hardness of his plastron. Your legs tremble around his hips. Mikey kisses you again before he ducks down to your neck and shoulder, his mouth hungry and burning. Ravenous.

Something about romance ignites a wildfire inside of Mikey. You exploit it as often as you can and he lets you because you both know that nothing is said without intent, without meaning. Honesty burns under your skin and shines through your eyes every time you press words of love into his skin like galaxies in a telescope. He basks in the attention. He worships under it.

In return, Mikey spills filth into your ears. The kind that shouldn’t be as sexy as it is but god does he know what you need to hear.

(”You feel perfect, hot and tight.”/ “I’m yours.”/ “I can feel you. You are real.”/ “I know, angel, I know. You’ve been wanting me so much. You need me. I need you too.”/ “I’m going to show you I love you. You’ll never doubt it. You’ll never doubt that I love you.”/ “Angel I’m not scared of your ghosts. They are scared of me.”/)

Mikey’s voice is serrated in ways no one but you have heard. Raw and carnal and deeper than most would expect, flashing dark around the edges the more passionate he gets, the more he reaches down inside of you to pull out the parts of you only he sees. 

You fall apart from the inside and can do nothing as the bottom drops out. You aren’t scared, not with the way Mikey holds you and chases away anything that could ruin this. His “I loves yous” bleed into your skin and you take hold of his pain and strangle it. There is no room for the grief and emptiness as violent tremors rack your bodies and hands cradle exposed hearts. The lights flash and dance as the decrescendo halts everything around you.

Heavy breathing fill the room. Whispered praise is soft and there is shuffling. You wipe each other down as best you can with the wet wipes you keep by the bed before pulling each other closer. The morning light is higher, peeking between the blinds and under the edges of the curtains. 

Eventually you’ll get out of bed. Clean up properly. Make food and spend time together with your clothes on. Relax in the knowledge that the day is a good one with no dark figures hanging in the corners, waiting to come in. But, thats for later.

For now, you lay close, breathing each other in. Hands are still roaming. No one has faded and there is no cold glass protecting warm skin. Mikey murmurs something and you smile. Your smile meets his smile and laughter joins in, glimmering in the light. You peck at his mouth and his fingers dig into the skin of your flesh before he grabs the comforter and hides you both underneath it.

Everything can wait. Just for a little longer. 

~~~~~

[thatesqcrush]

Voire Dire, Pt. 2

Rafael Barba x Reader. Warnings: heavy kissing/touching, some language. WC: 4,072. Episode References: 19x13 & 22x04.

A certified workaholic, Rafael had little to no time for any kind of romantic relationships. His last one, with Yelina, years prior, ended badly. It was during that relationship he had expressed deep feelings and she rebuked him, using him as a stepping stone to his former friend, Alex Muñoz. That was not to say he was celibate; he had needs - desires; and he bid his time with men and women who also exhibited similar interests. They warmed the bed, but never the heart. It was just easier to focus on work - work required no emotion.

Rafael found his mind wandering as the cab took him home. He was drawn to you the moment he stepped through the 8th floor doors where all the junior ADAs were working. He recalled when he sat in a similar room, in Brooklyn, before he made his way up the ladder. Things were so much easier then, even if he didn't recognize it at the time. The world was an old movie: all black and white and it was high noon. He was Gary Cooper and absolutely sure absolutely who were the good guys, who were the bad guys.

The kiss replayed in his mind like an endless looping device. You had bright, lush lips that he was pretty sure were designed to drive anyone of any orientation mad. When you had kissed him, it certainly took him by surprise - a wonderful surprise. He allowed himself to relish in the taste of your kiss - the invitation you gave when you moaned and opened your mouth more, so he could slide his tongue into your mouth. 

For the briefest of moments, he ignored the rational part of his brain. All cares were thrown into the wind. And then his moral compass, which was spinning and spinning and spinning, came to a sudden stop as it dawned on him that you had been drinking.

The kiss - was an impulse born out of your drunken stupor. He hadn’t missed however, the look of disappointment on your face when he broke the kiss and stated he should not have done that.

When he finally made it back to his apartment, he found himself unable to wind down. The mind of the prosecutor now turned defense lawyer, was racing with a million thoughts at once. Despite the busyness of his mind, there was one thing that he was sure of. 

Kissing you was tantalizing. And he wanted to do it again.

He changed into burgundy sweatpants and his old ratted Harvard shirt and poured himself a night cap. He was certain your email was like his when he was there: first name (dot) last name (at) manhattanda (dot) org. Ever the perfectionist, he opened his email and looked up the D.A. 's office's website. Sure enough, there was your contact information (and he was right about your email). 

The plan seemed simple enough: first, apologize once more for doing anything without your explicit consent; second: ask for a do-over but he didn’t want you to feel any kind of pressure. Nor did he expect you to acquiesce - and that if he did indeed overreach, it was noted and he would keep things completely professional. 

He hovered over the send button for longer than he would have anticipated. Finishing his drink, he took a deep breath and hit send. And then went to bed feeling antsy - like a child the night before their birthday.

**

The sun shone brightly the next morning, filtering through the partially open shades. Rafael groaned as he stretched, with his back and shoulders making a cracking sound as the bubbles burst in the synovial fluid around his joints. It was simultaneously satisfying and a reminder of his age.

The coffee maker beeped, signaling it was done brewing. Rafael made way to the bathroom to take care of his morning ablutions. He helped himself to coffee and then sat back in bed to read the paper on his iPad and get caught up on the latest happenings while he was asleep.

For a moment, he forgot about his email to you. He opened his inbox, mentally gearing himself for an email from you rebuking him, or worse, no response at all.

His normally steel stomach flipped when he saw there was an email.

Rafael, you have nothing to apologize for. I would love a do-over. Name the place/time, and I’ll meet you. My phone # is 718-371-5952. -Y/N

Rafael looked at the timestamp on the reply. You were up early. He scratched his beard and wondered if it was too early to text. 

‘It’s too early to text Rafael, coño.’ He chastised himself. ‘Es muy temprano; después. Ya no eres un hombre joven; necesitas relajarte.

**

You were distracted at work. You couldn’t focus one bit. You tried to immerse yourself with work, but you were anxious. You kept checking your phone to see if Rafael had texted you. Groaning, you took your phone and threw it into your drawer. You opened a new browser window when Marjorie strolled in. She had black oversized glasses and a hoodie. In her hands were two coffee cups and a brown paper bag. 

You were relieved when you saw her - talking with her would help keep your anxieties at bay. 

You stood and turned the corner of your desk and hopped on Marjorie’s desk.

“Morning!” You replied cheerfully. 

Marjorie groaned. “Why are you so loud? Why is it so bright in here?” You reached for a coffee and she protested, reaching for it. You held it back, smirking.

“Someone had a bit much I suppose? Woke up full of regret for poor life choices?”

Marjorie took off her sunglasses. “Yes.” She hissed. “You had a lot to drink too; why are you so chipper? Did you get laid or something?”

You paused and it was a long enough of a pause for her to jump all over it. “Oh my fuck, who? Spill. Carisi?”

You barked out a laugh before taking a sip of the piping hot coffee. “No. God knows I love him, but not like that.” You narrowed your eyes and leaned down to whisper, scanning the office.

“Um - what are you doing? We’re the only ones here working today.” Marjorie cocked her brow in response. 

“This place leaks like a sieve, Marj - you know that.” You warned. “Can’t be too careful.” 

Marjorie sighed and put on her sunglasses once more. “Sorry, it’s too bright. Still too drunk.”

You shook your head. “Um. It was Barba.”

“You fucked Barba!” Marjorie shrieked loudly. 

“Would you lower your voice?” You replied sternly. “No. I did not sleep with him. But we did kiss. And he sorta asked me out.”

“Holy crap on a cracker.” Marjorie replied, astounded by the news. She opened the other coffee and pushed the brown paper bag towards you. “Bear claws. So how was it? Is he as silver tongued as he is in the courtroom?”

Your cheeks burned as you replayed the kiss in your mind - how his tongue followed yours, deepening the kiss. It was full of enthusiasm and how he pulled you against him, his body solid and warm. If you tried hard enough, you could still taste the mix of scotch and coffee that was his kiss. “He was very… ” You trailed off slowly, trying to search for the right word. “... passionate. Yes, very passionate. Knows what he’s doing.”

Marjorie tipped her coffee at you. “Well then.”

**

When Rafael did eventually text you, he suggested a restaurant in the NoLiTa section of Manhattan. He insisted on meeting you at your place, as to him, it was the proper thing to do. You declined, insisting that a boomerang trip was uneccessary and that you’d meet him at the location. From the sidewalk on East Houston Street, under a grimy red awning that appeared to belong to a fading pizza parlor, Emilio’s Ballato didn’t look like much.

Rafael waited outside for you, rubbing his gloved hands together and when you crossed the street, he smiled. He had planned the whole night to a tee and it was going to be perfect. Rafael would settle for nothing less. 

You kissed each other on the cheek and then took his hand. On the walls were framed album covers and snapshots of various stars, from stalwarts like David Bowie and Billy Joel to the titans of film, like Frank Sinatra and Martin Scorsese. 

“Mr. Barba!” A voice cried out. You looked and the voice belonged to a hulking minotaur of a man who was sitting like a wary sentry at the first table. He was armed with a cup of espresso that looked like a thimble in the paws of a giant.

“Emilio!” Rafael greeted in return. The two men broke into Italian and you cocked your brow. You had no idea what they were saying and when ‘Emilio’ looked past Rafael and to you, you waved with a small smile.

“Come this way. I have a table in the back - more private.” Emilio replied in a thick Italian accent. “Welcome to my restaurant. We will make sure you’re taken care of.”

A waiter came by to take your coats and winter wear. As you shimmied off your coat, Rafael found his mouth suddenly go dry. You wore a blue velvet wrap dress with long sleeves and v-neckline. Black tights and black knee high boots rounded out the look. 

“You look stunning.” Rafael complimented as he handed his camel peacoat over.

You felt your cheeks burn and you were grateful for the dimmed recessed lighting. Rafael looked equally as handsome in charcoal slacks and a white button down fitted with a navy suit jacket. 

“Thank you counselor, likewise.” You replied. Rafael was ever the gentleman, helping you to your seat first before taking his place across from you. Soft jazz music played, but not so loudly as to be interruptive to conversation. The two of you were just settling in when Rafael’s phone rang loudly. Rafael reached for his phone, looked at the caller and sent the call to voicemail.

Rafael apologized for the interruption and you waved your hand, while shaking your head. “No worries.”

Another waiter came by, with a bottle of red wine, compliments of the house. 

“So what “in” do you have in this place?” You asked as you took a sip of the wine. 

“Emilio - back in the day when I was an A.D.A, had a family member who was assaulted. I was the prosecutor on the case. I put away a violent sociopath and rapist for a very long time. Emilio told me I was always welcome to the restaurant. I - I never really had anyone to bring here.” Rafael replied.

“Until now.” You finished, chewing on a sesame breadstick. 

“Until you.” Rafael clarified, causing your heart to flutter. 

Over dinner, you got to know each other better. You discussed how you ended up on the lawyer track and how you were study buddies with Carisi and Marjorie. 

He shared his fascination with The Waves by Virginia Woolf and The Count of Monte Cristo. Rafael went into passionate detail for the French literary classic by Dumas, recounting "This is the first book I remember my father giving me to read. It was my favorite book growing up. It's an easy read. I was a boy in middle school. I fell in love with the world and the drama of it. What’s your favorite novel?”

Again, Rafael’s phone rang, interrupting. Rafael let out a quiet swear as he reached for his phone. “I swear, I put it on vibrate.”

“Someone’s mighty popular.” You gave him a wink as you reached for your glass of wine.

Rafael blinked and let out a deep exhalation. “So you were going to tell me about your favorite novel.”

Rafael reached for your hand across the table and you were about to grasp it, when the waiter arrived to serve dinner. You jumped back slightly as the food was placed before you. Rafael had pasta with mussels, while you had pasta cacio e pepe. 

Picking up your fork, you nodded. “Love in the Time of Cholera. Florentino Ariza suffers from lovesickness as one would suffer from cholera, enduring both physical and emotional pains as he longs for Fermina Daza.” 

Rafael cocked his brow. “For my taste, there are too many long passages of exposition with Garcia Marquez explaining what the characters are going through. But as easy as the story is to follow, and as seductive as it is, it never gives away what is really going on.”

You scoffed. “So I suppose you don’t believe love conquers all?”

Rafael gave you a coy smile. “In the end we’re all passing through.” You laughed and it was music to his ears. 

More wine was had and conversation flowed easily. Emilio insisted that you both stay for dessert. At some point, your chair shifted and you were sitting right next to Rafael as you split vanilla panna cotta. Rafael’s eyes shifted from your eyes to your lips as you licked the spoon clean. You put the spoon down and could feel the sexual tension rising. As soon as you reached for him, you accidentally knocked over your glass of red wine, and it spilled in the direction of Rafael, all over his white shirt.

“Oh fuck, I am so sorry.” You apologized profusely as you frantically dabbed at his shirt with the cloth napkin. 

“It’s okay; it’s just clothing.” Rafael replied as he too blotted the stain.

“It’s not.” You disagreed. “Here I am, trying to make a good impression, ya know, be all charming and sexy for you - the Rafael Barba - and instead I am a klutz. Ugh, that is going to set if we don’t take care of it.”

“Did you say sexy?” Rafael questioned, a smile dancing on his lips. 

You opened your mouth to reply when Rafael’s phone rang again interrupting your thoughts. Rafael threw the napkin on the table, letting out an irritated sigh. When he saw the name, he held up a finger. “Let me just answer this.”

“Liv, what is-- yes now is not a good time.” Rafael hissed into the phone. “Tomorrow. That’s all I got. Okay. Okay. Talk then.”

Rafael tossed his phone onto the table and threw his head back, rubbing his hands over his face.” When he sat up, he noticed the bemused look on your face. You reached up and began dabbing his shirt once more. 

“It’s really not a big deal.” Rafael replied softly. He grabbed your wrists gently, pausing your movements. His hands were warm and they circled your wrists easily. 

You allowed yourself to relax in his grasp and crinkled your nose. “It really is going to set. We should go and clean it. Otherwise it’s ruined. And this shirt is nice; it’d be a shame for it to get tossed.”

“At this hour? And where?” Rafael replied incredulously as he signaled the waiter for the check.

“We… could go to your place.” You suggested softly. “I am pretty good with stains. Just need some salt, boiling water, and white vinegar.”

Stunned silence followed - it was brief, but it felt like an eternity when he spoke again. “Sure.”

**

It didn’t take long to get to Rafael’s. “I am so sorry again.” You apologized as you stepped off the elevator.

“Accidents happen.” Rafael replied as he led you down the hall to his apartment. If anyone had told you that you would be on a date with Rafael Barba, you would have laughed in their face and asked them for some of the good stuff that they were smoking. But here you, in front of a rather ordinary door marked 6C. Once inside, Rafael turned on the light and you took in the apartment before you. It was freakishly spotless and you wondered if you had entered a living ad for Architectural Digest. The apartment was sleek and modern but carried a warm ambiance. Colorful artwork hung off the walls and there was a built in walled library filled with all sorts of legal texts and what appeared to be vinyls. His apartment smelled like a mixture of leather and tobacco and books plus whatever cologne he had donned. 

“I’ll go get changed.” Rafael replied. “The kitchen is over that way and there is vinegar and salt in the cupboards. You nodded and made way, rummaging through his kitchen. His cupboards were as meticulous as his apartment and you smiled at the things that you found as you searched for the items you needed to clean the stain, like a box of peanut butter cap ‘n’ crunch.

You found the salt and vinegar when Rafael came back with his ruined clothes. He had changed into another undershirt and a pair of dark jeans. You felt the air get sucked out of his chest at the sight of him so casual. A tuft of chest hair poked out of the v-neckline and a gold chain glinted in the light. You took the clothes and spread them out on his kitchen counter and set to work. 

“Want anything to drink?” Rafael asked. 

“Water would be nice.” You managed to squeak out before you tackled the stains. Rafael watched you as you methodically worked out the stains. Your brows were furrowed in concentration and he found you adorable.

Rafael placed a small glass of water by you and then walked over to his music collection before choosing a record to play. The all too familiar instrumental notes of one of your favorite songs began to play. 

“Is that--?” You paused, looking at him curiously.

“Vitamin String Quartet.” Rafael expanded. “Lana del Rey.”

“Never had you pegged as a Lana del Rey fan.” You murmured continuing to work on the stain. 

“Plato said that music is moral law. It gives soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination, and charm and gaiety to life and to everything.” Rafael stated. “I have a very eclectic taste in music and if you go through my collection, you’ll find everything from Biggie to Celia Cruz to Lana del Rey to Prince - and everything else in between.”

“Impressive.” You replied. 

“And what would you have me pegged as?” Rafael prodded. He had also poured himself a glass of water. 

You stopped and looked up at him. You were overwhelmed by how handsome he is. Eyes that were biscay green and a strong aquiline nose. His hair, now bordering on more silver, than salt and pepper, made your hands twitch, as if your muscles instinctively wanted to run through it. You licked your lips and sucked in your bottom lip. You didn’t miss how his eyes darkened. 

“You’re the infamous Rafael Barba. Boy wonder. Taking on cases that everyone ducks with your big, brass…” Rafael’s eyebrow cocks and you smirk as you finish, “ego.”

“And baby killer.” Rafael interjected. His tone was acidic.

You flinched. “You’re not a baby killer.”

Rafael cocked his head. “Aren’t I?”

“Depends on the jury.” You replied, walking over to him, crossing your arms, which only served to push up your tits more. “But really, I don’t think of you like that. I know there is more to a person than just that one thing.”

“Not according to the court of public opinion.” Rafael managed to croak as his eyes drifted to your chest. “There is a reason I have kept a low profile all this time.”

You closed the gap between you and him and pressed your palms against his chest. He was solid and warm. You could feel his pectoral muscles twitch. A spark shot through your body, settling between your legs.

Rafael’s hands settled on your hips. The velvet of your dress was softer than he imagined and he could picture the dress pooling down at your feet. Part of him wished that the date had gone better. It did not go as well as he had planned.

“I’m sorry for tonight.” Rafael murmured as he wrapped his arms loosely around your hips. “This was not what I had planned for us at all.”

“I’m not.” You replied, looking up at him. You now wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing even closer against him. “I don’t need fancy dinners. I am just happy to spend time with you. I really had a good time. I am sorry about the shirt, but it seems all fine now.”

Rafael searched your eyes. The tension in the room shifted. Your heart began to pound and your breathing became more shallow. 

“I… the stain… it’s lifted.” You whispered shakily. Rafael lowered his eyes to your lips and recalled how good it felt to kiss them. He wanted to do it again. So he did. You didn’t hold back, moaning as his mouth crashed against yours. He pressed his mouth against yours with more force, crushing them. He took the opportunity to trace his tongue against the seam of your lips, seeking entrance to your mouth.  You acquiesced his request by parting your lips, and he deepened the kiss by sliding his tongue into your mouth. You responded in turn by pulling his bottom lip, sucking and nipping. His chest rumbled. Rafael lifted you up, his hands going to your thighs, encouraging you to wrap your feet around his hips. 

Rafael carried you to the couch, walking backwards until he felt the couch and threw himself down, bringing you with him. You let out a squeak but that turned into another moan as his lips found purchase along your neck and he took the opportunity to suck a bruising mark into your skin. 

Your nipples were hard like diamonds and the strip of material that dared call itself underwear was ruined. Rafael’s hands slid down your back to your ass and he gave each cheek a squeeze. 

You rolled your hips, feeling how hard he was beneath you and then slid your hands under his shirt and through his chest hair, confirming how solid he was. You raked your nails down his chest and Rafael let out a groan of a man who had been denied too long. “Oh Rafael.” You breathed into his ear as you pressed kisses upwards along his neck to his cheek and then to his earlobe where you sucked and flicked your tongue against the thin flesh.

“Keep that up and I’ll…” Rafael groaned. His hands move to the front of your dress squeezing. You pulled away reluctantly and looked into his eyes, which were blown with lust.

“So soon old man?” You winked. “We’re just getting started.”

“I am not that old.” Rafael retorted. 

“Even if you were - which you’re not, it wouldn’t stop me.” You replied before ducking down to kiss him once more. You rolled your hips again, grinding harder against him. You took his hands and placed them on your breasts, sighing as he squeezed them. His fingers moved to play with your nipples and when he gave them a firm but gentle pinch, you couldn't help but shudder. You were melting under his touch.

You were just about to tell him to take you to bed so you could ride him into next week, when your phone began to sound. 

“I should get that.” You replied, giving him an apologetic look. 

You climbed off and Rafael let out another groan, his eyes laser focused on your ass as you walked away. “Mierda.”

“It’s SVU. They need me to come down.” You replied as you checked your phone. 

Rafael let out a deep sigh. “Do you want me to come down with you?”

You shook your head. “It’s fine.”

“It’s late Y/N, let me at least walk you over to the precinct. It’s a few blocks away.”

“Okay.” You relented. 

The walk over was quick. You got to the steps of the precinct and looked up at the door and then at him. “Raincheck?”

Rafael nodded. “Raincheck.” He pressed a soft kiss to your lips and then you bounded up the stairs, turning to give him a quick wave. Rafael watched you until you were gone. He dropped his head as he began to trek back home.

‘What a fucking disaster.’ He thought miserably. He looked at his hands before he shoved them in his pockets. ‘I guess it's just us for tonight.’

TBC.

Tag list: @madpanda75  @tropes-and-tales @delia26omg-blog @mgarner1227@beardedmccoy @youreverycolor @neely1177 @witches-unruly-heart @mrsrafaelbarba @skittle479 @ottosuricato @sass-and-suspenders @mommakat32 @dreila03  @beccabarba @garturbo​ @lovebennycolonmiguelgalindo @imjustreallynosy @sweetsummertime99​ @whyissvuruiningmylovelife @annabelleb49​ @scarletsoldierrr​ @cesarofangirl78​ @redlipstickandplaid​ @redlipstickandblacktea​ @zoeykaytesmom​ @differentshadesofgray​ @misssirenlove​ @esparza-army​ @bananas-pajamas​ @mishaissocoolike @thefanficfaerie​ @theenchantedgalleryofstories​ @catnip987 @choppedgalaxynerd @pieceofshittytitty​ @ktiz90​ @evee87​ @itsjustmyfantasyroom​ @detective-giggles​ @rampantmuses​ @jazzyjoi​ @caked-crusader​ @rachelxwayne​ @prurientpuddlejumper​ @lv7867​ @permanentlydizzy​ @bisexual-dreamer02​ @madamsnape921​ @averyhotchner​ @teamsladsandgents​ @qvid-pro-qvo​ @alwaysachorusgirl​

[captaincravatthecapricious]

Things You Said at the Kitchen Table- Prompt Fill

Jon's ill, Tim makes dinner.  After the Unknowing.  Kind of a follow up to Can’t get up, Is that all your blood, and Feverish and teary/how long has it been since you’ve eaten.  Sort of a follow up to the first two chapters of @janekfan‘s Too Much before more beautiful chapters were added to that verse.  

@laurawatchesthebees

cw fever, nausea (mentioned), dizziness, past suicidal ideation, grief, references to death, food

Jon at his kitchen table.  

Hardly the first time for that.  Not even in recent months.  

But Tim isn’t used to it yet.  

It might be that he had meant to die a couple days ago.  Not officially, but he was fairly certain he wouldn’t be coming back, no matter his intent.

Hasn’t quite accepted that he is still living and breathing and existing in this flat.  

He’d cleaned.  Really cleaned.  Didn’t box anything up, because he knew Martin would hate it.  Knew Martin would know what that meant.  

Martin had still glared at him in suspicion when he tossed out a lifetime of stuff.  His clothes are still there.  His books.  And Danny’s room is still untouched.  But Everything is too pristine.  Making it easy for whoever had to clean it out after he was gone.  

Except he isn’t gone.  

And Jon isn’t gone.  (Even if that fever has been wasting him away to nothing, but Tim is pretty sure that it’s mostly stress and exhaustion).  

And Martin isn’t gone.  

The opposite of gone.  

Halfway moved in with him.  Both of them.  

Jon still has half his things at the institute, but Tim is certain that at least half his clothes are here.  And his weighted blanket.  Certainly all his toiletries.  

And Martin has slowly been taking over corners of his too-empty flat over the last couple days, which is baffling to Tim, because Martin rarely leaves.  Has rarely left these last few days.  

Tim doesn’t exactly know what Martin went through.  Martin hasn’t really been up for talking about that.  And Tim can’t fault him, because Tm very much doesn’t want to talk about… all of that.  

Jon has been the perfect distraction.  Fever flushed, and limp.  Clinging weakly to whoever has been in reach.  

They haven’t been to the Archives in a few days.  So far no one else has been ill, so Tim has to assume that Elias being arrested has done something to postpone or stop the if-you-are-gone-too-long-you-will-suffer thing.  Which.  Good riddance.  Fucker.  

Jon is sitting at his kitchen table while Tim makes dinner.  They’d been living on takeout, but Jon’s uneasy stomach hasn’t been up to much, so Tim finally dug himself out of the depression-confusion-fog of not really accepting that everyone is still alive.  (Everyone except Sasha.)  

He’s fine.  Fine enough to make dinner.  Martin brought back groceries.  Enough to fill out the too-clean too-empty cabinets.  Making Tim’s flat stop looking like a real-estate showing that just happened to have some extra homey touches, but not lived in.  

Martin is off puttering around, possibly unpacking?  It’s all gone a bit unsaid.  Something that needs to be resolved, because Tim knows that Jon and Martin Need the verbal reassurance that they are welcome.  And honestly… if this is going to happen…. Tim’s going to need a new flat.  With more bedrooms.  And one that doesn’t have a shrine to a dead brother taking up one of the bedrooms.   Unless… unless sharing a bedroom is now just going to be a thing?  His flat has three… well one spare… one… one he doesn’t have the strength to open the door anymore… and one his.  They could share?  Or have an extra for whoever needs a bit of space.  It’s all… He doesn’t know.  There aren’t edges to this friendship?  Relationship?  Fucked it he knows.  And it doesn’t really matter… does it?  

Then again, he doesn’t Need those kind of labels.  

Later.  

But not now.  

When Martin and Jon need those labels.  

And honestly it might be just those two.  Which Tim doesn’t mind?  Unless he does?  

Not a thought for now.  

His thoughts are making a soup for Jon.  One of those big soups that he can freeze part of and still have food for days.  

Because it isn’t like he has the mental fortitude for cooking often these days… 

Or he might now?  He hasn’t really accepted that his quest for revenge was successful.   

He expected to be dead, or maybe not expected, but half-expected… or maybe just to have this huge wight lifted.  But… but he’s having a really difficult time comprehending that it’s really over, you know?

Like he doesn’t feel quite real.  Like nothing really happened.  

But Jon…

Jon who really ought to still be in bed.  Tucked up with medicine while Martin slowly takes over a third of Tim’s closet.

But Jon never could sit still.  Even clearly feeling like shit, he wants to be helpful.  

Of course Tim shooes Jon back to the bedroom.  Managed to get the rest of the chopping done before he wanders back.  Trailing on hand along the wall, dizzy and small, draped in his weighted blanket.  The one that Tim bought for the holidays back in Research.  

Tim is honestly astounded that extra weight doesn’t take Jon right down… Jon can hardly hold himself up.  

“All that’s left to do is stir, bud.”  Tim gestures to the few bowls full of chopped veggies on the counter, all the cutting boards washed, everything else in the pot already.  Tim wished he was adept at making bread… he might be able to sweet talk Martin into making some later.  

Jon’s the real chef here, but Tim is pretty competent.  Martin decent enough, but Martin is the one who can work some magic with the oven.  Cakes and pastries and bread.  

There is nothing better than Martin’s baking.  

(Sasha was the best at grilling).  

Tim needs to be better at shutting thoughts of her out.  Or maybe just letting himself think them.  

Not now.  Soup.  Now is for soup.  And maybe talking to Jon, assuming Jon isn’t going to be smart and go back to bed (hah).  He isn’t… not quite up to listening to his thoughts just now.  And music… well let’s just say he’s been listening to one of his two deep depression playlists.  Probably not a good thing.  

Instead of heading back to bed, like Tim had hoped… but not expected.  Jon plunks himself down at the table.  Shivering a little as he draws the blanket close.  

It has a fleece cover that Tim and Sasha and Martin made one evening early Archives days.  

One of those knotted covers.  Easy to make.  And Martin suggested because… well Tim is pretty sure that Martin might practice witchcraft.  Or at least, doesn’t dismiss the idea that knot tying might hold some sort of power of intention.  (Then again he might have seen Martin clip a little packet of herbs and stone chips and sigils on the inside of the cover… but that is none of Tim’s business.  It might be though, if Martin is going to be living here.  Tim can’t say he minds… it’s… it’s nice.  Nice that he believes that intentions have meaning and that even if it does nothing… it’s still doing something.  Tim understands the need to do something even if… even if it means nothing in the end.  Or… maybe he doesn’t understand.  he understands the urge, but hasn’t let himself believe.)

Jon feels utterly useless.  And disgusting.  He needs a shower.  But the gummy feeling of fever sweat and exhaustion cling to him… no matter how many times he scrubs himself dizzy on Tim’s shower floor.    

He wants to help.  

He’s been mooching off of Tim and Martin’s kindness for too long.  

But he’s been… weak and ill and helpless.  And it’s been… nice to be looked after.  

He wants to help, though.  He’s never been good at sitting around and recovering, which is probably about half of his troubles right there.  And he needs to be useful.  Needs to not be a burden.  

Not to mention keep an eye on Tim, who… who hasn’t been doing well… As far as Jon’s fever-addled brain can figure.  (Martin is keeping himself busy to avoid thinking, Jon is positive, but he seems to be handling things better than Tim right now, so Jon will focus on Tim for now.  Besides there is only so much he can do feeling like crap… and if he stays in bed any longer, he will either explode from sitting around with his thoughts too long, or he will fall asleep and be useful to absolutely no one.)

So he joins Tim in the kitchen, not surprised and rather thankful, but also rather annoyed that he can’t actually help with food.  But.. that’s probably for the best.  He’s still a little queasy.  And standing for more than a couple minutes makes his head swim.  ...More than usual, that is.  

The weighted blanket feels like it’s going to drag him through the floor… but not in a bad way.  Entirely.  

The weakness and shakiness is bad.  But the pressure is good.  And he would have the first two even without the blanket adding an extra weight.  

He shuffles over to the chair and sits heavily.  Pressing his face against the cool wood.  He will worry about the skin grease on the table later.  Hhhhhhh he feels disgusting.  

Tim sits down perpendicular to him at some point.  Reaching over slowly to feel his forehead.  

“Mmmmmm.”  Undignified sound after undignified sound.  That’s all Jon has to offer.  

Tim chuckles.  “Feels good, doesn’t it, cooling you down, huh?”

Jon glares halfheartedly.  He knows this is some sort of jab about not resting.  Probably.  

Actually, he isn’t sure.  

“Has Martin gotten you some medicine recently?”

Jon nods.  Still more-or-less face down on the table.  

“How ‘bout some Lucozade?”

“‘M fine.”

“I’ll get you some.  How does… uh blue?  Sound.  Think Martin got you some blue.”

Jon shrugs.  

Tim’s hand retreats.  Tim retreats.  Then he is back.  Setting a glass at his elbow.  

“Think you’re up for some soup?”  

Jon shrugs.  

“Not super chatty, huh.”  

Jon shrugs again.  He wishes he had more words for Tim.  But Tim is tired of apologies, and Jon can’t think of much else to say.  

“Thanks for …”  He doesn’t want to say it.  He wants to thank.  He wants to apologize.  But he really doesn’t like that he needs the help.  But Tim deserves the thanks.  Especially if Jon has been a dead weight around the house.  “Looking after me.”

Tim laughs again.  “Bud, that sounded like it hurt to say.”  Tim nudges him.  

It’s nice.  Jon doesn’t flinch.  “Don’t like that I need looking after.”  

“I know, bud.”  

Tim’s hand on his back.  It’s… gentle and grounding.  And warm.  Although Jon is probably imagining that through the blanket.  The blanket is warm, though.  Jon yawns against the table.  

Tim is rubbing small circles on his back now.  

“Sure you don’t wanna go back to bed?”  

Jon shakes his head.  Moving sounds bad.  

“I can carry you.”  

“Mmmm.  Here’s fine.  With you.  Thought you might want company.”  Jon tilts his face slightly, trying to catch a glimpse of Tim’s face.  

Tim’s face does a couple odd things.  Jon doesn’t know what they mean.  He hopes they are good.  

Tim sounds a little… choked up.  “Thanks.”

Tim drapes himself over Jon in an awkward side hug.  Until he gets up to add some more veggies and give the soup a stir.  

Jon sits up far enough to have a bit of the sports drink.  Then slumps back down.  

“About a half hour until the soup is ready.  Maybe you can look sick and pitiful enough that Martin will take pity on us and make us some fresh bread tomorrow with leftovers, you did Am Dram, I bet you can convince him.”  

Jon snorts.  

“Half an hour then we are getting you to the couch.  Unless you want to shower now then we can get the soup and some telly.  Should be ready by the time you’re done?”  

“Mmmmm.  Feel gross.”  

���Yup.  Okay.  Up with you.  Think you can manage by yourself?”  

Jon shrugs.  

“Well.  Give a shout if you need anything, okay?  I’ll be right here.  Then we can take it easy this evening.  

Curled up on the couch with soup and Martin and Jon, Tim is somewhere, tangentially approaching happy.