#I felt my soul leave my body this week. two of the grade 2 boys dropped f bombs. i was SO SHOCKED. this word could never leave my mouth eve | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

angelicmark · 5 years ago

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sweet loving (m)

pairing: college!mark x college!reader

genre: fluff, smut, angst, lovers!au

warnings: cursing, unprotected sex (wrap it up!), love making, dry humping, sexual themes, a whole lot of fluff please be warned lmao

wc: 8.1k

summary: being a total opposite from mark, you never imagined you would be able to last a whole year with him. until mark proves you wrong, and you both fall sweetly in love.

oct. 2; day 37

you look at mark, your eyes trailing all over him and his face. he was handsome, and you would sometimes wonder why he even asked you out just barely over a month ago. the relationship was still fresh, and the two of you were still getting to know each other. it was a nice feeling, and you actually quite enjoyed being around him. he was cute, the way he would laugh at almost anything and sometimes slap his knee when he did laugh. it was endearing, you found him endearing.

“you okay?” he asks when he catches you staring for too long, going to take a bite out of his muffin. the two of you were at his apartment, eating at the breakfast bar. it was a peaceful morning, and also the first time spending the night together as boyfriend and girlfriend, as an official couple. you were nervous at first, but as the night unveiled, you were more at ease with him.

“yeah, just thinking,” you softly smile at him, taking a bite out of your cereal. you were a bit on the quieter side while he was more outgoing and courageous. you wouldn’t call yourself a nerd, just dedicated and knowing what you wanted in life. not that mark wasn’t, he was just less uptight about his studying, not in the slightest worried when he got a couple failed grades here and there.

“what about?” he takes a sip of his drink, looking at you with big curious eyes. you were both complete opposites, now that you think about it. and you wondered if he even noticed that himself.

you adjust in your seat, looking at him with articulate eyes, “i don’t know,” you breathe, slightly feeling stressed, “i’m just not sure how this even works, to be honest. i’ve never exactly had a serious relationship, and we’re actually really different. have you noticed that?”

he swallows, his demeanor calm while you were still fidgeting in your seat, “well, yeah, i think it’s a bit hard to miss,” he chuckles, “but i don’t think we should worry about it too much. i like you, there’s something about you and your personality that makes me want to be better. i think that’s good, at least.”

you feel as if he knocked the wind right out of you, and it almost felt refreshing being around him. you nod your head, “and you make me feel good. like, better about myself and life in general. it’s less stressful with you around.”

he smiles, “see?” he can’t help from leaning in to give you a soft kiss, looking at you with bright optimistic eyes, “there we go.”

you smile back, unable to give in to his cute gestures, “thank you, for putting me at ease. it’s a bit hard to do that.”

he kisses you again, a lot slower and more reassuring, “always.”

oct. 31; day 66

“it’s halloween, baby!” mark cheers, looking at you as he stands there in his spider-man costume. you can’t help the laugh that escapes passed your lips, looking at the way he starts to imitate spider-man’s webs.

you stroll towards him, walking right to him and he can’t help the way his eyes travel all along your figure. you were only just a cat this year, but you were wearing a tightly fitted black dress and the cat ears were really adding to the outfit. you had high-rise boots reaching just above your knees, and he couldn’t stop himself from looking at your legs, seeing the way everything wrapped around you like a glove. you were so beautiful, he decided. really beautiful.

he swallows, “you look good, really good.” his eyes ate you up hungrily, and you caught the way his eyes darkened just a bit.

you avoid eyes for a few, before looking back at him with a shy look, “so do you, spidey.” you kiss him, and his hands were quick to grasp onto you. he couldn’t seem to keep his hands to himself, not with you walking around like that.

“thanks,” he breathes out when you pull away, looking at your lips like he was about to chase after them again. you could feel your body heating up under his gaze, and you truly did like the feeling he gave you. two months does a lot to a relationship, you think to yourself.

you look at him, his hands still on your waist and holding you incredibly close to him, “you ready to go?”

he nods, taking your hand and finally pulling away. he was close to just saying fuck the party and staying home with you all night long. he so desperately wanted to, but he spent days just trying to convince you to even go with him. he couldn’t let all that begging go to waste. plus, a part of him wanted to let everyone know just who you belonged to. you were his, and his ego was inflated the whole entire night over that thought.

“this is jaehyun,” mark introduces, and he sees the jaehyun smiles at you with bright eyes, “and this is johnny.” the boys were staring at you with pretty smiles, jaehyun being a bit bolder in kissing the back of your hand. your eyes went wide, watching as mark hissed at jaehyun, “back off.”

jaehyun laughs, backing away from you, “i’m not interested, mark. she’s yours, i’m not a woman stealer.”

mark couldn’t help but feel insecure, in a way. jaehyun had killer dimples, and a cute smile. mark felt basic compared to him. but the moment he feels a small, soft hand on his shoulder, he could feel his body starting to loosen up again. mark wasn’t used to feeling jealous or possessive, so when he saw the way jaehyun kissed your hand, he wasn’t exactly sure what to do with these kinds of feelings. but, as his eyes travel to your own, he feels like the weight of the world had been lifted. you were such a calming soul, always so gentle when around him. it was charming, and mark liked that about you.

“sorry,” he sighed, looking at you wide apologetic eyes.

you shake your head, smiling at him, “if my friends were to ever flirt with you, i might have gone crazy. you’re a lot better than me,” you laugh.

he can’t help the smile that reaches his face, “good think i’d never leave you, then.” he places an arm around your shoulder.

you snuggle closer to him, the night turning for the better, “me neither.”

the rest of the night was just soft, loving kisses. the two of you exhausted by the time you made it back to mark’s apartment, cuddling so incredibly close to each other. you were starting to get more and more comfortable around mark, and a part of you was terrified. you were scared you would get too attached, and be left heartbroken. but, as the two of you doze off, holding each other as the two of you start to fall in love together, you felt like it would be worth it.

mark was so worth it.

nov. 29; day 95

thanksgiving holiday was good. you both went home to your parents, and your family was unable to stop talking about this marvelous mark you had. they wished to one day meet him, but you decided it was a bit early to introduce each other to your families. your three months together was spent over the phone, celebrating and sending air kisses with plenty of giggles and wishing the two of you were together. it was always nice talking to mark, but you missed him. you missed being around him in real life, and being able to hold him. a week was way too long without him.

“mark!” you bang on his apartment door, excited to finally see him after all this time. you had arrived home just a few hours later than him, and he waited patiently for you, well, as patiently as he could. he was just as anxious as you, although.

he swings the door open, catching sight of your bright eyes. you jump in his arms, unable to contain your excitement. you were so happy to finally be in his arms again. being around family is always nice, but you missed your boyfriend. you missed kissing him, holding him, being around him. as he lets you in and closes the door with his foot, you kiss him. and he melts into you, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. he missed this, he really missed this.

“missed you,” he lets out between kisses, his voice gravely.

you hum back, your arms reach up and you drag your fingers through his scalp, “missed you, too.”

the two of you are unable to stop kissing, to stop touching each other. it was amazing just how much the two of you could miss each other. he drags you to the couch, expecting you to sit beside him. but, to his surprise, you jump in his lap and continue kissing him like that. it felt so good having you so close, he could feel his heart tightening at the thought of you becoming more and more comfortable around him. it had only been three months together, and he could easily feel himself falling in love with you. it was hard to say you didn’t feel the same way, because you know you did. it was so hard not to love mark.

you pull back for air, and he’s already trailing his kisses down your neck. you can’t help the noises that escape you, your hands clawing through his hair. he loved the pressure your nails put on his scalp, and he couldn’t help from groaning and biting down onto your neck. you let out a small gasp, and he tugs you closer to his chest. the both of you were breathing heavily when he pulls back to look at you directly in the eyes. your body felt like it was burning, and you knew he could feel the heat because his hands trailed up your shirt on your hips. his hands were cold against your hot skin, and you were unsure if you could wait any longer for him to finally touch you.

“mark,” you say, making direct eye contact as you both watch one another’s every move, “do- do you want to...” you trail off, hoping he got the message. you felt embarrassed, avoiding his eyes for a minute before looking back at him again. he had a goofy nervous smile on his face.

“i would love to,” he whispers, leaning in to kiss you again. he was stealing the air right out of your lungs, you felt like you were drowning in an ocean of mark. and it was so intoxicating. everything about mark was intoxicating, so captivating you were afraid of losing yourself to him. but, as the two of you ended up tangled in his sheets by the end of the night, you think to yourself that maybe it would be worth it. he was such a sweet, kind soul. he thought of you and you only, your hands intertwined the whole entire time. it felt like you were dreaming, and he had to bring you back to reality with each kiss.

mark was starting to feel like home.

dec. 31; day 127

you were expecting mark to want to go out on new year’s, even offering to go with him if he wanted. but he ended up smiling and shaking his head no, claiming he would like to spend this moment alone with you, and you only. it made your heart flutter, and you began to wonder what went through that cute boy’s head sometimes.

“alright,” he passes you non-alcoholic champagne, and you let out a little chuckle as he plops down beside you on the couch.

“why non-alcoholic?” you laugh, and he pouts a bit before seeing your smile and perking right back up. your smile was too contagious to not smile back.

“it was all they had at the store,” he mumbles, “and i didn’t feel like driving across town for real champagne. truly wasn’t worth it,” he shakes his head.

you nod back, kissing his cheek, “thank you.”

he looks at you, his cheeks starting to heat up as he nods back, “of course, baby.”

you smile softly at the name, every time it fell from his lips, it sounded so cute. and you could never stop the smile that would form. he seemed to notice, because he leaned over and kissed you shortly. when he pulled back from the soft kiss, he stared at you before leaning back in, the kiss a lot slower and more passionate than the last. it always felt nice kissing mark, his lips always soft and tasting like coconut lip balm. it was endearing, to say the least. you could tell he puts a lot of effort into looking good and smelling good for you, but you wouldn’t care if he simply just wore sweats and had no lip balm on. he was still your mark, still the same goof you were falling so easily for. he will always be the mark you’re starting to love more and more along the way.

“3,” he hears this, pulling away from your lips to look at the screen, “2!” he looks at you smiling as he places his hand along your cheek and leaning back in, “1!” he closes his eyes, “happy new years!” kiss. kiss after kiss after kiss as you hear fireworks going off in the background. but you can’t find it in yourself to care as mark pulls you into his lap. this was comfortable, such easy access to kiss him just the way you want.

he pulls back, looking at you with big bright wide eyes, and you swear you could see the stars in his eyes. he looked like he was thinking so deeply, and you were wondering just what it was. he was such a curious boy, but you knew he was ambitious, never ending when it comes to getting what he wanted. it’s why he kept chasing after you all that time. and you were so glad you finally agreed to date him. mark was such a gift, being nothing but the best boyfriend you could ever ask for. this was the first serious relationship you had been in, and he was the perfect fit for you. he had to be.

“i love you, y/n,” he says, his eyes glossy.

you freeze in your spot, looking at him for what felt like years. he could feel his heart beating right out of his chest. maybe it’s too soon? did he just fuck up? he was overthinking, he couldn’t help it. did you not love him back? did you-

you smile, “i love you, too, mark.”

he breathes out a sigh of relief, and you laugh a bit, “holy fuck,” he says, “i got so nervous right there.”

you laugh again, “sorry, i just love messing with you. your scared face is too cute,” you kiss his cheek.

he steals a real kiss after that, repeating those same three words over and over again the whole entire night. this was heaven, this was what being happy truly was, you were his first love. and he was yours. this was love, in so many different ways.

you were his home. and he was yours.

jan. 26; day 153

“happy five months!” mark busts through your bedroom door, and you roll over on your bed to see him holding up balloons and some flowers and chocolates. you snort at him, seeing the way he’s all dressed up and smiling so dorkishly.

“it’s 9am, mark,” you laugh, sitting up and yawning. he places the things down, walking towards you and climbing in front of you. he goes for a kiss, but you lean away and shove your hand in his face, “i have morning breath.”

he pouts, pushing your hand away, “i don’t care. i want to kiss you.”

you roll your eyes, giving him a peck before jumping out of bed and seeing the way he pouts like a child, “y/nnn..”

you laugh, “i’ll be five minutes, mark. just let me brush my teeth.”

when you come out of the bathroom, he’s laying all across your bed. he looked really good, his black jeans and fitted black shirt looking impeccably good on him. he always looked good, but for some reason he looked extra good. he had his hat on backwards, and it was attractive to say the least. he catches you staring, smiling at you when he notices you standing there.

“hi, baby,” he sits up on the edge of the bed. you smile at him, boldly sitting right into his lap. his hands instinctively rest on your hips, “i love you.”

you smile, kissing him properly, “i love you, too, mark.” you kiss along his jaw, “so much.” your breath was hot against his skin, and you were so pretty, so good to him. “happy five months.” you lean back and see that he’s smiling again.

“i’m lucky to have you,” he says to you, his hands roaming all along your body. but his touches had no alternative intentions, and you couldn’t help from smiling along with him. he was such a good boyfriend.

“me too, mark,” you whisper back, looking him right in the eyes, “i didn’t imagine us making it this far, but i’m so happy we did. you’re so good to me, and i can’t thank you enough for loving me.”

he smiles, “thank you for loving me, y/n.” he kisses you, and you melt into him. you were so used to kissing mark, it felt like you were made just for kissing him, but each and every time still never failed to make you crumble. it was a blessing to be able to kiss mark, and to be able to call him your boyfriend. he felt the same exact way about you, pride constantly filling up each and every time someone saw that you were his, and his only. you will always be his, he’ll make sure of it.

mark was a dream boy, your dream boy. so perfect in every single way. “i love you so much, mark.” you whisper against his lips.

he looks you in the eye, “i love you so much, too, y/n.”

tears start to well in your eyes, and you can’t help but wonder if he’ll end up leaving you one day. mark could probably find someone a lot better than you in every way imaginable, you can’t help but wonder why he constantly chooses you over everyone else. but you’re not complaining. not in the slightest. as long as you had mark, you didn’t have time to worry about those things. you were lucky enough to love him in the first place, and you knew this.

you run your fingers through his soft hair, and he leans his head into your soft touch, “i may not be able to give you everything you need all the time,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, “but i will remind you every day of my life that i love you.”

he looks at you with a soft smile stretched on his perfectly shaped lips, “me too, baby. always.”

you lean to kiss him again, “always.”

feb. 14; day 172

“mark, it’s jaehyun’s birthday,” you pout. mark was being stubborn, he didn’t want to go out for his birthday, wanting to stay with you and spend valentine’s day with you only. he was afraid jaehyun would get too friendly with you again, insecurity starting to bubble up again. “we have to at least go and wish him happy birthday.”

“he doesn’t deserve one after last time i saw him,” he mumbles, avoiding eye contact with you. you heard him despite him looking away from you, it was hard to miss the jealousy dripping from his voice.

“mark,” you sit down next to him on the couch, looking him in the eyes. you brush some of his hair out of his face as he stares at you, “there isn’t anyone on this earth that could steal me away from you.”

he sighs, “i know,” he pauses, looking away, “i guess i’m just..” he takes a breath as he stops again. he looked as if he was struggling getting the words out. “i just don’t want to lose you, or feel like i could. i’m not used to feeling like this.” he shifts in his seat and avoids eye contact. he couldn’t bring himself to look you in the eye.

you smile to yourself, making him face you again, “me neither, mark. but you have to trust me when i say i love you, and only you.”

his eyes were getting glossy the longer he stared, “i trust you.”

“and i trust you, mark. there’s no taking me away.”

he felt as if a whole weight had been lifted. he knew he couldn’t help the jealousy that would bubble up, but you were his. and he needed to realize that no one would ever take you away from him. he wasn’t sure why he was so possessive in the first place, but you always seemed to reassure no matter what. and he was grateful for you. he was especially grateful that you weren’t creeped out by it, or thought he was being weird and over reacting. he was lucky, and he didn’t want anyone else to have you this way.

“thank you,” he breathes out, leaning over and giving you a kiss. you kiss back, and you could feel everything falling in to place all over again. life seemed to be a lot easier with mark around. it was as if time was flying, but in the best way possible. it was always like that with mark, and you know that will never change.

“let’s get going then,” you say, smiling as you pull away and stand up. you offer a hand to him, and he takes it as he gets up. “you can stick by me like glue if you want.”

he laughs at that, “i just might.”

the whole night was congratulating jaehyun on another year, and mark constantly having an arm around you. it was comforting, and you could tell mark was more at ease now. you were happy he was feeling better. every now and then he would give you a quick peck, smiling down at you. he looked pretty under all the lights. he even looked pretty in the dark with just the moonlight shining on him. mark was so incredible. and as the night came to an end, you were holding onto each other tightly.

he whispered into your ear just how much he loved you, and you would say it back as the two of you doze off to sleep. there was no describing the feeling he gave you.

mar. 22; day 209

the air was thick, you felt like you were suffocating. mark’s hips were working so deliciously, shoving his cock inside you and out over and over again. he was always so good with his hips, you felt like you were going to pass out. you were a moaning, writhing mess. and he, personally, loved it. you were so easy please around him, and he loved the noises you made each time the head of his cock teased right against your sweet spot. you were so beautiful.

“so good,” he mumbles, his hands intertwining with yours. he held your hands above your head, your fingers locking together. mark was a love maker, he showed you just how much he cared each and every time. it was pure, sweet bliss being with him. “so tight, baby.”

you whined in his hold, your back arching as you looked right into his dark colored eyes. he was so beautiful up close. you were amazed how you even got him. “you’re so good, mark,” you gasp, “so fucking good.”

he chuckles, leaning down to press his lips to yours, “all for you.” he emphasizes his words by thrusting deeper and faster. he reaches a hand down to start rubbing at your clit, feeling the way your walls would start to flutter around his throbbing dick. it felt so good. his other hand stayed connected with yours, and you were grateful for it. your other hand, however, was clawing all along his back. you were holding on for dear life, wanting so desperately to cum for him.

“fuck, mark,” you choke out, feeling as you start to come undone around him, “oh god, so good. so, so good.” your whines edged him on, and soon enough you were cumming around him sweetly, his name being repeated over and over again until all you could remember was mark, mark, mark. it was always mark. never not him.

“such a good girl,” you hear his whisper as he cums right after you, filling you up so well. you rarely let him cum inside, so this was a treat for him. your were slick as he came, feeling his body shudder against yours as you whine for him all through it. “i love you.” he kisses you softly.

you return the kiss, in a trance, “i love you so much.”

he smiles at you, admiring the way you look. you were always such a sight to see. he loved you so much, he was afraid of losing you.

april 17; day 235

you were going to cry. you were convinced you were going to cry. you never cried, or rather showed much emotion, but this very moment, all you could think about was breaking down. nothing was right. nothing was ever right. why did you even do this? why did you even agree to be with mark? what was happening to the two of you?

it was your first fight. your first real fight. and you could feel your world crashing in on you. it was terrifying, and you were scared shitless. you had never experienced this kind of fear. never once in your life had to deal with this kind of stress. mark was your first real relationship, so you weren’t exactly sure what to do. for the first time ever, you were clueless. you wished they had some kind of book written for this. but maybe you shouldn’t wish that, because that’s why you were both fighting in the first place.

“i barely see you anymore,” he sighed, roughly running his fingers through his hair, “it’s like all you can think about is those damn books. and i know you care a lot about studying, but i need you to be my girlfriend sometimes, too.” his eyes were sparkling under the light, and it wasn’t the way he used to look at you. his eyes were filled with tears this time, looking at you with despair and anger.

but, your blood boiled against your own will, “you think i chose this?” you ask, eyes narrowing at him, “you know how important all of this is to me. i need to pass my exams. i need this in order to live a nice easy life. i’m sorry i’m not worried about the next party available.” you scoffed.

he was hurt. his heart was pounding against his chest as he saw another side of you that he had yet to see. it was painful, and he wished to never see it again. he sighed as the two of you sat in an awkward, tense silence. it was eating the two of you alive. but it took forever before either one of you spoke up.

“do you love me?”

the words hit you hard. you felt as if you just got cold water dumped on you. was he really doubting your love for him? was this what the two of you were coming down to? you let out a huff of breath, obviously hurt. but his eyes were serious, and he glanced at the clock beside you, before looking back at you. it was late, you knew this. but you couldn’t let it end like this, you couldn’t have him walk away thinking you don’t love him.

“mark,” you step forward, “there isn’t a day where i don’t.”

he looks away from you, tears now falling freely from his big bright eyes. he was hurting, and you were the cause of it. you felt so terrible. you felt like hell, only wanting to make it up to him at this point. but he was doubting your love for him. how could you two ever go back after that?

“it’s so hard to tell sometimes,” he looks up at you again. his eyes were puffy already, his lips quivering and his nose turning red, “some days, i’m surprised when you say you love me back. other days i’m wondering if you’re lying to me. it’s hard not knowing what you’re thinking.”

mark was always someone who needed that kind of reassurance, and you knew this. you just always forgot to give it to him every single day, the way he deserved. is this what he was really thinking all this time? did mark really have this kind of perspective on you?

“mark, i love you.” you start, reaching a hand out to make him look at you, “i may not be able to express it the way i should most of the time, but that doesn’t mean i don’t love you. because i do. i really do, mark. there isn’t anyone in this world that could make me feel the way you do, and i will stand by that for the rest of my life.” you lean into him as he grasps at your waist, “you were made just for me, i’m sure of it, mark. i love you, a whole lot more than you could ever imagine.”

he was breaking, and you were picking up the pieces one by one. he kisses you, and you could taste the salty tears that were earlier running down his face, but you really couldn’t find it in yourself to care. not when the love of your life was doubting your love for him. the kiss was so slow, soft, unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. it was passionate, no hidden meanings and no rising intentions coming by. it was just you, and mark. no one else.

“i’ll remind you forever, mark,” you whisper against his lips, “i love you, forever.”

may 14; day 262

three days. it’s been three whole days since mark last texted you. and, honestly, you were starting to get tired. you’ve been trying to reach out to him, but nothing seemed to work. today, though, you finally decided to drive your ass over there and see why the hell he was ignoring you in the first place. could he still be stuck on your last fight? was that why he was ignoring you? you were starting to get drained from everything, not realizing how hard it really was holding together a relationship.

you don’t even bother knocking on the door, helping yourself in with the key he gave you a couple months ago. the minute you walk in, you could feel the air was cold. how the hell could he live in such a cold temperature? you were starting to doubt he was even here by how cold and lonely it felt. it was quiet, no sign of life from the looks of it. but you make your way towards his door anyway. you see it slightly open, and you push it softly to expose the area.

there he was. sitting on his bed, facing away from the door and looking out of the window. but you doubted he found the tree in front of him interesting. you stepped inside the room, careful not to disturb him. you needed to know why he was ignoring you, though. so you timidly sat by him. he could feel your presence the minute you opened the door, but refused to move or say anything. you both sat in silence. the sound of breathing starting to become louder and louder in your ears. you felt as if you were being tortured with his silence.

“mark,” you say softly, your voice cracking in the loud silence. he sat still, not even exchanging you a look. his jaw was tightened, and you could see the way his fingers were tightly grasping each other. it was a painful, deafening silence that was being released into the air.

he sighed, closing his eyes as yours stayed glued in on him. he finally says something, your heart suffocating at the sight of his soft stubble he had yet to shave, “i’m sorry for ghosting you.” it was a quiet apology.

you look away from him, looking at the tree, “it’s fine.”

he opened his eyes finally to look at you for the first time that night. for the first time in three days. and you were still as beautiful as ever. you had a glow on your face as the moonlight struck you in all kinds of different ways. it was stunning, you were always stunning. he could feel tears prickling in the corners of his eyes, you would always be too good for him. he always believed that. even when he didn’t know how to treat you half the time, you were still there to pick him right back up. even when he decided to run away from his emotions rather than sort them out, you would always come right to him. even when ignored you for three whole days, you would still come and check in on him, no questions truly asked. a pain struck him right through the heart the longer he looked at you.

“why do you always come back?” he huffs, and this makes you whip your head in his direction. “i mean.. i can’t be good for you. you will always be more-”

“i’m not more of anything, mark.” you say to him, your voice leveled, while his was shaking. “my heart hasn’t changed. not for you. you’re my boyfriend, someone i love like no one else. there hasn’t been anyone like you. i don’t want you doubting yourself just because i’m a bit more stern than you. you’re allowed to be messy, mark. i love you. stop thinking you aren’t good enough for me. you’re more than that.”

he cried. the whole entire night, he was curled in your arms as you held him while he cried and sobbed into your soft shirt. you could feel his tears trailing along your arm, but you could care less. the hold he had on you was tight, and it was starting to feel like he was afraid you were going to poof right out of his grip. your fingers stayed in his hair, tangled around the soft strands as you soothed him. eventually, you dragged the both of you under the covers of the bed and he was soon lulled to sleep, his arms grasping tightly around your waist while yours were still coaxing him in a soft, loving hug. mark had a lot of doubts, a lot of stress on his shoulders. and he was afraid of showing it, but he felt like he could around you. and it was such a blessing having you by his side.

“i love you, mark,” you kiss the top of his forehead as his puffy eyes shut and his swollen lips started to pout in a deep sleep. “you’re worth so much to me.”

and you really did mean it.

june 23; day 302

“mark!” you squeal as he tickles along your sides. you were starting to lose your breath, but he just couldn’t help himself. your laugh was so luxurious in his eyes, and your smile was so pretty. “stop! oh my g- god!” you laugh out loud, trying to break free from his arms.

he finally pulls back, grinning at you wildly, “you’re so cute, y/n.” he kisses you, his mood changing significantly. you wanted to be mad at him, but with the way his lips were tightly pressed against yours, you couldn’t find it in yourself to be completely angry. when he pulled away, he had a look of love written on his features. it was endearing, and you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. he was so pretty up close.

“where do you think we’ll be in ten years?” he says, easily flopping on top of you. you let out a huff because his strong weight, but nonetheless started to run your fingers through his hair as he looked up at you like a cat in love.

you chuckle, “together.” you say simply, and heat seemed to have rose onto his cheeks because he looked away briefly before making eye contact again. his cheeks were painted pink.

“you think so?” he asks, leaning into the touch of your hand.

“yeah,” you breathe, “i really do. do you?”

he nods his head, “always.”

you smile at him, and he could feel the winds knocking him right out the longer he looked at you. you always seemed to have a hold on him that he wasn’t even aware of. he felt like he could be with you forever. he knew he could. anywhere you went, he would follow. no doubt about it.

“it’s hot outside,” you look out the window in his bedroom, seeing the way the sun was blazing in the room. he had his ac as low as it could go, but nothing seemed to be enough.

he nodded in agreement, getting up off of you to let you breathe, “yeah, wanna get ice cream?” his eyes lit up as he mentioned ice cream, and you laughed as you quickly nodded your head, getting up off the bed to join him in getting up.

“lead the way, my prince,” you your arms out in front of you, bowing at him and he couldn’t help the laugh that slipped past his lips. you smiled up at him as you straightened.

he ruffles your hair, “will do, my princess.”

he catches the way you got shy at the nickname.

july 18; day 327

“can you believe it’s been almost a year since we got together?” mark asks, watching as you eat your food in front of him. you cooked each other dinner tonight, him helping in the minor things as you took over. you loved the boy, but he really didn’t know how to cook.

you swallow, “i know, it feels like time really passed by too quickly,” you pout, taking a sip of your drink.

“it’s been the best year ever,” he says moreso to himself, but you hear it anyway and you can’t stop the smile that raises along your cheeks. he notices and he smiles right back, his nose scrunching up.

“for a boy who hates cheesy things, you sure are cheesy,” you lean your head on your hand, looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

he chuckles at your expression while taking a bite of his food, “yeah, that was until you came into my life. everything just turned cheesy.”

you roll your eyes, yet you were still smiling, “dork.”

he shrugs his shoulder, “and you’re the one dating the dork.”

you narrow your eyes, before smirking and getting up from your seat, coming towards his. he sips on his water, curious on what you were doing. you were quick to sit on his lap, making him almost choke on the liquid in his throat. he looked nervous, but his hands were quick to grab onto your hips. he was surprised, but it was still pleasantly. you rolled your hips into his, watching as his eyes flutter shut and you feel his fingernails starting to dig into your flesh. you were wearing shorts and a tanktop, perfect easy access for everything.

“fuck,” he huffs out, his head resting against your shoulder. your hips were relentless, and he was getting harder and harder with every movement. you could feel his dick through his sweatpants, and it was rubbing deliciously against your clit. his hands roamed your body as he started to suck on your neck messily. you were so wet, and you knew you had to be soaking through your shorts at this point.

“you’re so hard, mark,” you let out, craining your neck for him to have more access.

“and you’re so wet,” he groans, feeling as your hips swiveled in circles before picking up pace. it felt so damn good. “you wanna cum in your pants, baby?”

“do you?” you retort, grinding heavily against him. the air was thick, and you felt like you could burst at any second now. he laughs against your neck, before gripping your hips and helping you guide along his dick easily through your clothes. it felt so good, and you were so close. he could tell with the way your fingers were starting to dig into his shoulders and your moans were getting more and more loud. you were unintentionally vocal, but it always seemed to please him either way.

“such a dirty girl,” he whispers, one of his hands traveling up your back and along your spine through your shirt. you arch into him and he groans. “so close,” he mumbles, licking along your neck.

“fuck, mark,” you moan, “me too, so close. gonna cum in my cute little shorts for you.”

his eyes went wide, not used to the way you were talking so dirty. it wasn’t like you, but he wasn’t complaining. not in the slightest. he moans with you, “come on, baby. cum in those cute little shorts of yours like you said. make yourself cum without my dick even being in you. such a naughty girl,” he hums in your ear.

“oh fuck!” you fall foward onto him, your hips faltering in pace as you cum. it was such a euphoric feeling when it came to mark, so much better than when you did it alone. you were chanting his name, and soon enough he was cumming with you. he stains his sweatpants and boxers, some leaking through and onto your shorts. you could feel his dick twitching below you as you both settled down, your breathing heavy.

“so good,” he rubs your back, watching as your body slumps into his. “let’s go get cleaned, baby. we’ll wash the dishes later.” he kisses your temple as you softly nod your head. “perfect.”

august 2; day 342

“happy birthday, mark!” you scream as you rush towards his room. you had been saying happy birthday to him every single hour, texting him while you were out getting cake and his favorite foods. he said he preferred staying in with you for the day, and you only pouted and agreed to his wishes. whatever he wanted today, he would get. a lot of people seemed to wish him happy birthday, and he only thanked them with a small smiley face.

he smiled at you, happy to finally see you, “baby! thank you,” he laughs, “but you’ve been telling me all day long.” he kisses you sweetly, and you can’t help the smile that stretches along your face.

“you only deserve the best,” you pull his face into yours again, and he sighs sweetly against your lips. he tasted like mint, while you tastes like watermelon. you wore his favorite chapstick.

“i love you,” he whispers against your lips, arms greedily wrapping around you.

“i love you more,” you mumble back. before it gets too far, you push him back and show him the cake you bought. “look! i got you a spiderman cake!”

he laughs out loud, “from halloween?”

“yeah,” you smile back, “i think halloween was around the time when i really started to fall for you, so i bought you a spiderman cake for your birthday to kind of relive that moment.”

he smiles at you before quickly picking you up and twirling you around a couple of times. he laughs at the squeaks you let out, demanding he put you down. “i love you so fucking much,” he says as he places you down, “i don’t know how i ever got this lucky.”

your cheeks feel hot as you look up at him, “i love you, too, mark.” you kiss his cheek, and he smiles at the tender action. “now, let’s eat your cake, birthday boy.”

the rest of the day was filled with laughter, talks of the future, and slow, loving sex as he discovered the sweet dark lace beneath your clothes. everything felt like heaven with him, and you were so in love with this boy. no one compares to him, you decided.

“happy birthday, mark,” you moan in his ear as his hips work fluidly with yours. you say atop him, riding him sweetly, “i love you.”

he kisses you messily, his dick trapped between your heat and his head swimming in thoughts of you, and you alone, “i love you, too, baby.” he groans, his fingers digging into your back as he trails them down and leaves scratching marks, “so much.”

this was heaven, and you weren’t planning on leaving anytime soon.

august 26; day 366

one year.

a whole entire year of loving mark lee.

and, in all honesty, you were overwhelmed. how could you have spent that much time with someone, every single day for a year? it was insane in your eyes, but you truly couldn’t see yourself with anyone else. you wouldn’t want to have it any other way. not when mark was, quite literally, your dream boy. loving him for a whole year feels surreal, and you really weren’t complaining.

“happy one year,” you breathe, leaning in for a kiss. you both stood on the balcony of his apartment, the warm summer night air flowing through your hair. it just turned midnight, and you can’t help the smile that spread across your face as you watched it turn midnight.

“happy one year, baby,” he bites his bottom lip, “this is crazy.”

you laugh, “it is, but i wouldn’t want it any other way,” you lean into his grip, “we’ve had our moments, but i truly think it has made us a whole lot stronger as a couple.” you look deeply into his eyes, “i love you, mark lee. there will never be a day where i don’t, and there will never be a day where i stop thinking of you. you will forever be the boy i love, the boy i truly fell in love with. i can never thank you enough for showing me the love i thought i’d never get, or even be able to reciprocate. i hope i make you as happy as you make me, mark.”

tears form in his eyes as he pouts, “you do, y/n. i want no one else but you, and i will keep saying that for the rest of my life. i love you, so damn much it hurts. i can’t imagine my life without you, y/n. i have never loved someone as much as i have loved you, and i can truly say that,” he kisses you softly, “you are forever mine, and i am forever yours.”

you smile against his lips, running your fingers through his hair. this, this was love. this was what being loved, and being in love felt like. the pain, the heartbreak, the aching. all of it was worth it, as long as it was with mark. everything was worth it, as long as it was with mark lee. and no matter where life took the both of you, you swore you would always love him. through thick and thin, you would love him.

“move in with me,” he hushes, breaking apart from your lips briefly.

you smile and only nod your head, “i basically live here, anyway.” he was expecting a bigger, more dramatic reaction, but he could only laugh and sweetly kiss you again. he was living in a world that smelled like watermelon and roses around you, and he loved it.

“i love you forever.”

“and ever,” you whisper back.

now that i know the soft magic of your laugh and how your body moves like art, why would i ever go back? what was before you?

a/n: I’m aware this includes leap year, please don’t judge haha i based it off of 2020

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stargazerholland · 4 years ago

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Home - Peter Parker

Peter Parker x Reader

Summary : You’re left to do an English assignment that catches you off guard, but Peter may or may not have been your inspiration.

Warnings: Cussing (let me know if you find any, though!)

Words: 3.2 k

What is home? The message was sprawled across the board as your English teacher, Mr. Gilloway stared at the class, eyebrows scrunched up and his hooked nose crinkled. The soft light bounced off of his bald head.

“Since you all like to complain about wanting to go home, you might as well write down what is home. You can either write it as a descriptive piece, because I’d live to know why you want to go so badly,” he said sarcastically, “Or whatever comes to mind. It’s due in a month, so Flash, you better not complain about not having completed your work. You will also have to present in front of the class just so I can hear your wonderful voices grace my god-awful days. Class dismissed.”

You had no idea as to what is home to you, as you’ve never felt at home wherever you go. It seemed as though you never stuck to one place. A million thoughts ran through your mind thinking of a solution as to how you were going to come up with an answer, when you meet up with your best friends, Ned Leeds and Peter Parker near the school’s overcrowded parking lot.

“Hey, Y/N! Are you ok? You look a bit.. distracted.” Ned stated, his voice laced with concern. Ned always looked out for you, right after Peter. The duo had welcomed you into their “super secret that no other soul should ever be told cult” with open arms, when you had first moved to Queens. Overtime, the three of you were inseparable, the school knowing you as the three who would be sitting in the quiet, snug corner of the cafeteria fighting over who was the actual hero in Star Wars.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, just thrown ‘off the rails’, if that’s even a saying,” You created air quotes to try to emphasize it, “it’s just Mr. Gilloway being a pain in the ass with his ‘deep and meaningful projects’ that are supposed to bring us to a realization of some unknown idea to our ‘uneducated minds’, whatever he means.” The Polynesian boy smiled, his pudgy cheeks showing off the rosiness of his almond skin tone.

“Peter and I both told you not to take AP English and look at where it got you, huh,” he taunted, as you looked to see both of them give their signature ‘I told you so’ faces, with their eyebrows raised and an amused smile, “just goes to show that we’re always right.”

With a roll of your eyes, you moved on to go home,

“Yeah, yeah, thanks mom. I’m gonna head out now. See you in chem tomorrow.” Before you left to catch the subway, Peter grabbed your wrist and said,

“Wanna come over? May misses you and we’d love to have you for the evening.”

You quickly nodded in affirmation and sent your mom a text to let her know about your whereabouts. The ride to his place was the same as always, sharing the headphones to listen to AC/DC, you complaining about Flash being your lab partner, and Peter sharing the previous night’s events during his patrol. Everything felt right at the moment, as if he was your safety blanket. Peter had the ability to radiate this sense of comfort even if you were across the room from him.

The subway finally stopped at your final destination, and you soon found yourself in the small, cozy apartment. It was the same as always, the soft grey throw blanket draped over the back of the worn out brown couch, and the smell of charred bread in the air. It was simple, just like the family. You sent a simple wave to Peter’s Aunt May and followed Peter to his room to start on your Chemistry homework.

Hours later, there were papers filled with math calculations and Chemistry formulas scattering the small room, as Peter was munching on some cheese-flavored potato chips.

“Did you get seventeen moles of copper nitrate for number 8?” Peter inquired, causing you to let out a groan.

“It’s seventeen? I got twenty-nine. Pete, I’m a hopeless teenager who doesn’t understand a single thing about this right now,” You heard a chuckle across from you and looked up, only to find Peter staring at you, something was different about his expression, but you still threw you eraser at him. Peter simply replied,

“Instead of complaining, you could have just asked. Lemme see what’s wrong… Ah,” he went on to explain the confusing lesson, however everything he said became sets of useless words as you were focusing on what was happening to you. Your entire body filled with warmth, while your heart was beating feverishly, like you’d just ran a marathon. The constant feeling of elevation in your stomach was overbearing, it felt like the spark on a tungsten before it reached the gunpowder for fireworks. It was different to what authors wrote in their stories, it was so much more than what you’d imagine, but it didn’t feel like love. The constant overcame your mind until you heard Peter call your name,

“Y/N, Y/N, are you still alive? May’s calling us for dinner, it’s Thai Food Thursday.” For the rest of the night, you could feel yourself being distant and distracted from the conversation, all thanks to Peter.

A week later, you still hadn’t made any progress on your English paper, which made you dread English class even more than you had before. Your past made it harder to even get an understanding of what home even was when all you could think of was your father.

Your father was always distant from you and your mother, acting like a guest at a bed and breakfast where he was only there for the night. Some weeks, he’d have to leave for a business trip, not coming back for a few weeks, or at least you thought that until you found him at a city nearby while being on a class field trip the fifth grade. He was with a familiar woman who you’d known growing up, Aunt Lydia, your mother’s younger sister. It turned out that your father had become infatuated with her in the duration of his first marriage, eventually starting a new family with Aunt Lydia and being much happier with her. The news spread like wildfire in a forest, eventually getting to your mother last. It broke you to know that your father would rather spend his days with some other kids than with you, another woman instead of your mother. After a short 2 weeks, the two of you had packed your bags and moved to Queens to forget the past, making it seem as if everything you knew from before was now supposed to be thrown out of a window. The project was no use when now all you could think of was a cold space where tension was intermingled in the air, and pain stained into the deepest threads of the couch pillows when you thought of home.

The library was almost completely empty, which was usual considering that the people of New York had better things to do than spend their time at the library, except for you, Peter, and now Ned. It was your annual reader’s binge night, where you’d all spend the afternoon reading a book from start to end, and then go out for a sub at the small, family-owned deli from around the corner. It was a tradition, and allowed you to bask in each other’s presence without the hassle of having to talk. The sounds of iced coffee being sipped and the constant whoosh of pages could be heard throughout the day. After the author had infuriated you enough with their cliche-filled sci-fi novel, you looked up to break the silence, until the sight of the room stopped you. More specifically, Peter. The sunlight shining in through the gigantic windows had illuminated the small features of his fair, pale face, like the freckles that were sprinkled all over his nose and cheeks just as the course sugar on sugar cookies. His chestnut brown hair became an array of colors as the copper undertones shining through, as he was concentrating on the book before him. Peter’s state of peace made you feel safe, as if nothing bad was going to happen to you. The time flew by as if it were like seconds as you continued to take in his image, until you felt a twinge on the side of your head, looking to your side to find a plastic straw on the ground.

“Y/N, you can stare at Peter after finishing the book. Now hurry up or else Mr. Delmar’s is gonna close up shop before we even finish!” Ned exclaimed as he smirked at your actions. Peter softly chuckled as you flipped off Ned, before all three of you went back to the book. While you mindlessly flipped pages, all that you could ponder was the same weird feeling that you felt at Peter’s house. It was almost as if you belonged there, as if you weren’t an outcast who had came out of nowhere. There was something about the feelings you had that you couldn’t comprehend completely, but it was becoming more and more prominent to you each day. Whatever the universe is trying to tell me, it sure is fucking me over, you thought, just as you saw your best friends close their books. Peter saw your expression, it was evident that you were deep in thought, and asked,

“You okay, Y/N?” To which you simply replied in the most New York way possible,

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Wanna go grabba sub now?”

You picked up the group’s sandwiches and headed over when you heard Ned and Peter talking about you,

“I don’t know, Ned, Y/N is hard to be around when she can’t even take a hint,” You stopped dead in your tracks, like gravity was pulling you down and you weren’t able to move your feet. It felt like the day at the school field trip, everything you once knew was fabricated and far from what you thought your friendship was.

“Peter, you’re going to have to tell her someday. It’s hurting you and it's probably gonna hurt her too in the future,” you took your chance and walked in before any more damage could be done to your friendship.

“Whatcha talkin’ about?” You said as you sat down. The two shook their heads, muttering words that you couldn’t make out, and started a new conversation. Throughout the rest of the day, you couldn’t help but wonder about what you’d done wrong, guilt and fear flowing through your veins as if your blood had been replaced with it.

You invited Peter over the next day for dinner to repay him for when you ate at his house last time, and in hopes to try to mend whatever tension Peter was feeling. The dingy apartment that you’d been living in for the past 5 years was usually dull and quiet, your mom still hadn’t comprehended how her sister could betray her and you were left trying to feel the same way as she did when you were younger, when your family wasn’t broken. While eating the burnt ends of your chicken parm, the English project was still running on your mind. Of course Peter knew you were thinking about it, so naturally, he had to ask how the English assignment was coming along.

“I can’t connect with anyone or anything that relates to my home. I am genuinely convinced that literally everyone hates me, and soon I’ll be living alone with my three cats in a studio apartment!” You complained as your arms flew up in exaggeration. Peter, on the other hand, seemed frustrated, with his eyes in annoyance and his knuckles turning white from clenching them so hard. Peter cried,

“Well, maybe if you would just open up and try to let more people into your life, then you wouldn’t be here right now!” At this point, the tension you tried to get rid of was now a thick fog that couldn’t be seen through.

“That’s impossible, Peter! You, out of all people, know it’s hard for me to get close with someone, when practically no one finds me bearable,” you looked at him with anger, “not even you.” Peter was taken aback,

“How did you hear that?”

“So it was true,” you scoffed as you felt the wet trail of plump tears run down your cheeks, “gee, thanks a lot, Pete.” He stood up, intimidating you, as he boomed,

“Well, yeah, it is. All you ever do is push away anyone whoever tries to get close to you. You’ve built this thick barrier around everyone and it stupid. Grow up and stop acting like a four year-old, it's annoying,” and immediately walked out the tiny apartment’s door.

You sunk down in your chair, the tears flowing faster and add onto the pain-ridden apartment. There goes someone else I love, you pondered, I love you, Peter, more than I’ve loved anyone else.

Your English assignment was now due in a week and a half's worth of time and you’d barely had an outline or a single idea as to what you wanted to write about. For multiple nights, you would just sit in front of your grey, busted laptop and stare at the blank document until you’d figured it was now time to sleep. Multiple sentences that were once on the document soon disappeared by the click of a button immediately after.

As sleep-deprived teenagers rushed to leave the room, you went up to Mr. Gilloway, intimidated by the hunch on his back that formed every time he was scrolling down the New York Times about another political outburst from the Senator. It wasn’t that Mr. Gilloway was bad in person, it was just that he tended to be very unfiltered. All it took was one glance from him and you knew that you were going to take in the bitter and harshful words about not working on the assignment. But you took the leap anyway, and took all the courage you had in you to ask,

“Mr. Gilloway, I don’t know what to write for the assignment. I keep thinking about it, but nothing is coming to mind and I really have no clue as to what home is.” Squeezing you eyes, you braced for the string of words that were meaningless to him.

“Well, what was it like for you to be at home? Anyone particular who comes to mind? Or perhaps a memory that just replays over and over in your head? Remember, Y/N that home is not a definitive object, you can make it anything you want. It could be the simplest idea, or something over the top, but that is what it means to you. I have full trust in you to go with your guts and write wha’ is home to you,” Mr. Gilloway gently replied. His response was out of character compared to who he really was. It was unrecognizable, sympathy and gentleness was the last thing that would come across anyone’s mind when they thought of Mr. Gilloway. Unable to form words, you nodded your head, only to hear, “Now go, I need to catch up on what our jackass of a Senator we have right now.”

It wasn’t until you got onto your laptop once again when you knew what to write about. You finally had an idea.

It was finally the day of the presentation and your nerves got the best of you. The past week was more muted, with evenings spent writing the English assignment, and the daytime spent studying in the library in hopes to avoid Peter. It was also the most emotionally draining week, knowing you couldn’t just go up and tell him how you really felt about him.

Y/N, it’s your turn. And Flash, puh-LEASE keep the flirting for someplace else, my classroom is not a ‘Singles Mingle’,” Mr. Gilloway said. The voice at the back of your head kept telling you don’t mess up, don’t mess up, don’t mess up. The anxiety of sharing something so intimate with a group of bored teenagers was nerve wracking, so much so that your hands were quivering.

“Home is an abstract idea, and to most people, it is their place to go to sleep, eat, and repeat. In my entire life, I'd never felt like I was at home until just recently when I came to know how I know I am at home. Home is a blend of emotions, where there are multiple feelings every time you’re there, A sense of belonging, where no matter how different, broken, or mismanaged a person is, they still know that the very spot will always let them be themselves. Home is where a person feels comfort and safety, where they know that they will be supported and consoled through all the times you’ve been through. A sense of adoration that lingers in the air, making a person feel loved for who they are. The idea that a person knows who they are when they’re at this place, or with this person, makes us realize that this very place is our home. My home is with someone who I’ve known for a while, and even a glance into their brown eyes makes me feel complete. As they always say, home is where the heart lies.”

You looked around the room to see blank stares and an unusual smile from Mr. Gilloway, but it was relieving to feel the overbearing weight of not knowing yourself being lifted off your shoulders.

Once class had ended, you heard your name being called by none other than Peter.

“Was your speech about me?” Peter had a look of desperation and hope, “I feel like home to you?” How’d he listen? You thought, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“I asked Mr. Gilloway,” Peter had read your mind, “Y/N, I only said I couldn’t bear you because I’m so deeply in love with you, but you never see that. It’s kind of hard to be friendzoned all the time, y’know?”

The moment you had awaited all along finally came in the least expected way, nor was it how everyone else described it to be. There were no fireworks in the background but instead, it was just as if the world had stopped around you.

“I love you too, Peter,” you whispered.

“So is it true?” With a simple nod and a small smile, you said,

“Yeah, it is about you, Peter.” A soft smile creeps up his face as he pulls you into his arms. It felt right, as if your body was perfectly molded to fit into his embrace. You decided to take the risk and pulled away, placing your hands over his pillowy cheeks, and pulled him towards you. You placed your lips on his, they were soft and smooth, with a hint of vanilla from the chapstick you made him use after seeing how rough they were a few months back. Peter kissed back, trying to empty all the love and adoration he had kept inside of him.

You couldn’t tell what the future held for you two, but you made a vow, right then and there that you would protect him with your entire heart, help him after his patrol’s and night, and most importantly, keep him in your heart for the rest of your life.

This was your home, right here with Peter.

A/N: Hi! I hope you liked this piece, I’ve had a a writer’s block for almost 2 years now, so to write this was a bit of a struggle, but it’s all good! Feel free to send over any requests or criticism. I also have to give an honorary mention to @wazzupmrstark! Her INCREDIBLE works gave me a bit of a push and inspo to get back to writing, so thank you so so much Kaili! (i’ll stop annoying you guys, byee :) )

#peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #imagine peter parker #mcu #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fanfics #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman fanfic #spiderman imagines #spiderman x reader #stargazerhollandworks #imagine spiderman #spiderman #peter parker oneshot #spiderman one shot #spider-man fanfiction #spider-man fanfic #spider-man imagines

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roses-ruby · 5 years ago

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Come home to me...Darling

Jimin x Female Reader

Ao3 Link

Part 1 of 2 (Part 2)

Genre: Cheating!AU, angst, soft vanilla smut , fluff

Warnings: Sex, Infidelity, Cursing, Sad

Word Count: 22,677

Summary: Jimin cheats and you try to make him stay. But whatever you do, it’s never enough.

A/N: YAAASSSSS, I’m done. This was originally supposed to be a one shot,,,but :),,,my brain,,,and hands,,,:),,,never know when to stop. My planning consisted of ‘Oh I could add this here’ or ‘Oh I could type more to this part’ and here we are 20k words later. Also plz let me know what you think.🥺 I need gratification babes🥺 Anyway, enjoy!

It was subtle really. Blink once and you’d miss it.

The first time Jimin cheated on you was two years into your marriage. An older lady, Jessica something – beautiful and elegant. You remember her as one of Jimin’s college professors, an intelligent woman who loved France and fine things. Running into her at a charity gala caught him by surprise, he seemed to forget your existence for the half hour they spent conversing. You couldn’t blame him, you were never the most interesting person, and she had all the wits on her side. Consequently, finding a text on his phone two weeks later that read ‘Last night was amazing, but it can’t happen again…’ caught you by surprise. He took a long relaxing shower as you gripped his left open phone and wept in your shared bedroom. After what felt like hours; he came out, wet hair sleeked back, a towel loosely hanging on his hips and gave you a tiny peck as you set up dinner.

It took you so long to recover. Softly becoming withdrawn and half of a living shell. Yet he continued to torture you with his endearing smile, his cheesy dialogues, and piercing stares until the memory faded away; the gala, the meeting, the text. Soon you were in his arms again, making sweet love to your first love. Drowning out the images of the text, convincing yourself you misunderstood, as you always do. Jimin is a difficult man to figure out after all. Even if it did happen, it’s over now – Jimin stayed with you and that’s what counts. Anyone else would have left your miserable self years ago, no?

And in the end that became your truth, no matter how hard your conscious tried to tell you otherwise when you laid awake in the middle of the night. But you wanted to save your marriage, so you left no stone unturned. You sank any rational thoughts and feelings – pushing them deep inside a hidden vault – never to float above the thin striped surface of your happiness. As long as Jimin comes home to you.

You never spoke of it.

The second time he was unfaithful was with his so-called best friend Mina about a year and a half later. His age, long curly hair and doe eyes – she was one of the guys. Preferring sweatpants over skirts and gaming over the salon, she easily befriended Jimin with similar interests. She was so different from you, so youthful and quirky. It happened repeatedly; with someone he’s known for so long…someone who knows you exist – and how much you love him. Dread settles in your stomach like a rock, as you thought this might be it, he’ll be taken away from you this time. And even though he came home every time, it still hurt more and more. How could you let this happen again? Why were you never good enough? Getting to the point where you could no longer tolerate the heartache you hesitantly confronted him about it one day. After he missed your anniversary date and came home with messy hair, ruffled clothes and a hint of a love bite, of course. No way for anyone to deny that…even if you tried.

Jimin came back to you a mess. He was careless. It was 5 in the morning and half the city was deep asleep. Holding you in a smothering back hug he cried and cried and cried. Rushed apologies fell from his lips as he soaked the back of your night dress with tears. Turning to face him, you cupped his jaw, wiping away the tears occupying his cheeks. Any curses you might have wanted to say to him fell away into the void, as you gently give him a hug. He’s trembling through his cries as he holds you back tighter than ever. Closing your own damp eyes, you try to calm your loud heart with his scent.

You look into the windows of his soul – he looks lost – scared almost, just like a little boy. Not the man you’ve grown accustomed to. Yet you wait for a response, opening your ears for him to repent, to apologize. Because that’s who Park Jimin is – he wouldn’t hurt anyone like this. This isn’t him.

“I-I-I’m s-sorry…*hic* I-It didn’t mean an-anything *hic*,” He barely made out a sentence

“Do you…love her?” You cringe as soon as you word out love. Never in your life had you been more afraid than in that moment, waiting for his response. Which took him a minute as he faced away from you, clenching his eyes shut. Trying to drown out the expression of agony on your face – all because of him.

“I…” Jimin opens his eyes, looking at the marbled floor of your cold apartment “It’s not that”

“Then why” You choke out, tears making their way down your face again and you grimace in embarrassment

“…I don’t know…I just-”

“Do you love me?”

You interrupt him, and he finally looks up at you, meeting your eyes. The shocked expression on his face morphs into pain; his silence becomes his answer.

Losing strength in your knees, you fall onto the floor wailing. Jimin’s quick on his feet and bends to your shaking torso. Tentative at first, he takes a second before he wraps his arms around you. You can feel him crying along – his tears soaking the skin of your cheek.

“I do!” He shouts making you jump in his arms “I do! I love you, I love you, I love you”

It was as if he was chanting to himself. Trying to persuade himself that he does, like he desired persuasion more than anything in that moment. But you were too blind to see it.

You hold onto him tightly, needing to feel his warmth through your freezing skin. Sniffles and hiccups fall through your mouth, and you have difficulty controlling your breath. Jimin’s never seen you cry like this; the last time might’ve been when you spoke about your mom 3 years ago. Telling him all the pain she’s put you through which made is blood boil. Now he’s the one responsible for every tear – every whimper that left you, he’s responsible for your broken state.

“I thought I lost you, that you weren’t coming back. That you would leave me for her”

“I’m glad you’re home, *sniff* Jimin…please always come home,” You speak through tears, your worthless body selfishly clinging onto his addictive heat, “…please don’t leave me”

“I won’t”

He pulls away from you. You see the tears staining his face, and you move your fingers to wipe them. To make him your perfect man again.

“I’m sorry …sorry…” he whispers, cutting through the calm of the bright room.

You look out the window of the colorless sky. The rain smacks against the glass in scolding, holding you awake in your otherwise inert body.

“I’ve never liked this place Jimin…let’s move away from here…let’s start over…Okay?

The look in your eye is so sincere – so desperate and Jimin can’t tell you no. He gives you a quick ‘Okay’ and you’re in each other’s arms again. Both searching for the missing sun on that stormy night.

Usually, after such a dramatic scene there’s a huge happy ending where every character gets some form of sedation and contentment. But sadly, that could never be the case with you. It had been three years since you both moved into the big city. Leaving your past behind is in no way easy, but you would have gone to the world’s end for Jimin. Besides, it wasn’t like you had much to stay for. All you’ve ever had was Jimin. It took a lot of love and patience, but these three years you felt your relationship grew stronger; better. That’s what you liked to believe.

You’d been married for six years now. Six wonderful years since he walked up to you one spring day in college, told you the professor had made you partners and gave you a smile you’d think only angels would be capable of. Not that you’d admit it, but you fell in love right in that moment between his ethereal features and the blossoms that danced in the wind outside the large window you sat next to. You knew about him, he was quite famous on campus. Park Jimin, the ladies’ man – someone who drove even men crazy – trapped on his presence. Everyone raved about Jimin, he was a topic in every third person’s conversation. A beautiful and charming man. It was a world far different from yours.

You grew up reserved and introverted. Growing up, you never had someone to call a friend. In elementary school, when kids were becoming socially productive and playing tag at recess, you were stiff and late to respond to any of your quick-witted classmates. In middle school, amongst blue eye shadow and girl’s getting their first piercings, you managed to win the science bowl and always had your head buried in a book.

Highschool came around and hormones ran amok, making all and sundry aggressive towards the other. Aside from a snide comment and a snicker directed at you, you never really had any run-ins with bullies. You blended in with the shadows, and no one knew or cared for your presence. Similarly, at home your mom was never around, but there were some lucky dates once every blue moon she’d have dinner with you. It would be something you made, you took refuge in your kitchen often and it brought you peace of mind. Even then, all she cared about was if you were keeping up your grades. And still, everyday you’d spend hours waiting on her to come home without her insight. She seldom did.

Throughout your years, you tried to understand her. Her husband, your dad, left her when she was 8th months pregnant with you. She was a career woman, and in a sense, you were her biggest misfortune. The cause of him abandoning her, the cause of her hitting the brake on her career. So, you never complained; manage to drown out the child begging for affection inside of you. Even when she couldn’t make it to your graduation ceremony, where you gave the valedictorian speech. Actually, you were glad she didn’t come, you weren’t the best at speeches and even some teachers were yawning as you spoke on the podium that day. It was dreadful, you stayed up all night to write those words, and no one gave it a second thought. Since then you preferred it, staying a meek secondary character.

Jimin was salutatorian of his own high school. He joked about how his homeroom teacher cried and made a big fuss the day he graduated. His parents were so proud of him, and he shed many tears saying farewells to his friends and colleagues. How embarrassing his speech was, how everyone laughed at his little mistakes. But you knew, the laughs directed around Jimin could never be malicious.

You smiled looking through his photo album in his college dorm, seeing Park Jimin look so happy through the plastic covers of the pictures. His head was on your lap and he held your waist by his arm, wanting nothing more but to be close to you. Glancing at him then back at the album made you realize, however, that a camera couldn’t capture the true exquisiteness of the way he stretches his lips or how polished his crescent eyes would actually become. Park Jimin was an unexplainable beauty and he graced your stiff-as-a-stick figure with his company, making alarms in your head flare at his honey scent.

You wish he could look that happy now.

The amorous twinkle in his eyes, one to make you smile for days, had fallen some time ago. No longer was his laughter in sync with yours, no longer did he caress you so softly when you fell deep into your subconscious – worried about whatever seems so trivial at this instant. His eyes focused more on his phone’s screen and his sweetly whispered confessions, just for you; a legend of the past.

Sitting across from him on the table, you watch as his figure, lost in his tiny mechanical device, smirks for the nth time. His long fingers drop the fork in his other hand, as he begins clacking at his screen, a hint of pink on the highs of his cheeks.

“Something funny?” You question, casually taking a bite of your ratatouille after

“Hm, what?” He looks up, a bit startled to see you in front of him. He completely forgot about your company, when you were just a foot away.

“Your phone,” You point at the man who seems a bit embarrassed – a bit afraid, “Want to share what’s going on”

It was a question you didn’t want a yes to.

“Nothing,” He waves his hand dismissively, “Jin’s just being an idiot”

He puts his phone face down by his plate, suddenly more interested in dinner. You watch carefully as he takes his first bite, a tiny portion of the sauce caught on his chin.

“How is it?” You question nervously

“Hmm, it’s nice” He says. Not bothering to look up, disregarding your presence yet again as he quickly tries to stuff the food down his throat

“O-oh, I’m glad”

It was his favorite dish. A night of a Disney film had made him enraptured with it, so much so that you made fun of him for tearing up at the end. The next day you had made him an exact replica of the dish, the perfectionist in you pinpointing it to an idealism only the original animator of the film could reach. And it was worth it, when his face lit up, when he exaggerated the taste through his facial expressions, when he gave you a million and one kisses that night. It was all worth it. One of your most fond memories. You came home early today and spent the whole day recreating it, taking time off from your busy schedule – leaving your job to slave in the kitchen. Even making homemade baguette, which he didn’t even touch.

Hopeful that he’d return your efforts with gratitude, with laughter…with a kiss.

You wake up out of your thoughts when his chair screeches,

“Thanks for the food,” He smiles, picking up his phone and walking away, into your shared bedroom.

You were a slow eater, you weren’t surprised he left. But you recall the days he used to stay, watching you stuff your face even after he was done with his meal. It always made you complain, and he’d just laugh, telling you how cute you were when you ate. How he couldn’t get enough of that image. Oh, how is words made you blush in those days.

“They’re beautiful,” You sigh, holding your jaw with your palm and looking into the vast distance. In front of you laid thousands of blue bonnets, neatly apprehended by the fancy garden Jimin had brought you to.

“They’re nothing compared to you,” A sweet voice comes from behind you, instantly flustering you in your frilly overdressed toes.

You blush and turn away from the voice, who just laughs at your actions. God, you loved that laugh. It was airy, filled with spring’s purity. The floral winds pick up slightly in front of the balcony and you rub your arms to fight the chill. “Oh, baby,” He coos, encasing you in his arms and placing his head on your shoulder.

“Didn’t know late April could be this chilly,” mumbling, he peppers kisses into your neck. You let your head roll back onto him and part your lips.

The sun was starting to set, and the sky exhibited pink and peach splotches. You wanted to live like this forever; watching the world pass by in his arms. He had been yours for a year now, an unbelievable, amazing, loving, long year. It was dreamlike – Jimin’s eyes, his smile, his scent, his love. Sometimes you thought you would suddenly wake up and be alone in your bed again. That this fantasy would shatter and wouldn’t leave a trace of any shards.

He feels you stiffening in his arms and moves his head off your shoulder to look at you

“What’s wrong”

“I’m just thinking again,” you sigh, not making eye contact with him

“All you need to think about is me,” He pouts making you giggle

“I am thinking about you silly”

“So, you’re thinking bad things about me?”

You gasp dramatically, “I would never”

He starts poking your sides – still tightly holding you in place with one of his arms wrapped around your waist

“Then what, huh?” He questions in a mocking tone as you struggle and laugh in his grasp, “What were you thinking about me?”

“Oh haha – Sto – hahahah Jimin!” You finally grab onto his wrist. Catching your breath, you turn your face to him,

“I was thinking about how much I love you. And how I don’t want to be alone again”

Jimin’s smile disappears as he loosens his hold on you. You take the opportunity to twirl around and look him in his captivating doll eyes, “I don’t want to sleep alone ever again. My bed’s too cold”

He cups your face and searches for something in your eyes with his brows furrowed. You wonder if he found what he was looking for, but you wouldn’t know, the expression didn’t last long before he brought his million-dollar smile back.

“You won’t, I’ll always warm it up” He responds taming your wild heart, making you lean your face into his palm and close your eyes. You feel his lips on yours and you kiss him back with twice the fervor. Your tongues dance in the sunset as he trails the back of his index and middle finger down your back. His hand rests on your hips and he parts from you.

“I’ll also have no problem warming up my baby” He gives you a cocky smirk, letting his breath fan your face. You, like clockwork, turn crimson and struggle to maintain eye contact. Jimin lets out another airy laugh which makes you pucker.

“You’re mean,” you say, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a hug. Again, he sits his head on your shoulder as your bodies mold together and block the spring breezes.

In bliss you close your eyes and breathe in the honey that symbolizes Jimin. Your lips were still wet, carrying his essence and drawing you in further. If this is a dream, you will make the most you could with it. You would make the most you could with Jimin. The smile on your face threatens to rip through your cheeks – but you couldn’t care less about the pain.

Opposite from you was Jimin, staring into the abyss of blue bonnets. But he didn’t encase a smile on his features this time – no. Instead his eyes were emotionless, his face expressionless as he leisurely patted your back in comfort through your embrace. There were no flowers in his vision, no scents in his senses, no winds near his skin. All he could do was watch that sun set, turn the once unadulterated horizon dark and bleary.

Spring had left his mind long ago.

Count your blessings they say.

Jimin woke up by the smell of pancakes. With his eyes shut, he took a few sniffs of the pleasant smell wafting through the bedroom. He opened his eyes when the door banged open,

“You’re up,” You smile, holding a tray of pancakes and glasses with orange juice.

He smiles and sits up, “Good morning”

“Good morning to you,” you reply setting down the tray in front of him and taking a seat on the edge of the bed next to him. His bed hair was making half of his bangs stick upwards off his forehead making you snort.

“Aww, babe,” He gasps at the food in front of him, sleepy eyes going wide, “You shouldn’t have!”

You giggle at him being so dramatic as you pick up a fork and cut off an edge of the pancake. Bringing it up to his face, he opens his mouth comically and you laugh again as he takes ahold of your wrist and shoves the bite into his mouth. He’d been leaving for work early and coming back late for the last three months, so you took the opportunity to wake up 2 hours before he leaves, just so you could catch him in bed with breakfast.

“My turn,” He says with a mouthful. Cutting up a large bite of his own, he puts it in front of your lips, “Ahhh~”

You mimic his words and open your mouth, laughs leaving you as Jimin tries to make it all fit.

“Is it good?” You ask him after you swallowed your piece, the juice having to help you along the way resting in your palm

“Of course, everything you make is so delicious,” He smirks, licking his lips seductively. Jimin throws his head back and laughs when you blush and avert your gaze

“Six years and you haven’t changed” Laughing, he grabs another bite of the fluffy cakes with his fork and you smile.

‘You have, though’ is what you want to say staring at him cheerily munch on his breakfast, but instead you choose to swallow down your words with another gulp of your juice.

“So, I’m still your sweet little kitten?” You question with a suggestive grin on your lips

He looks up at you and squints his eyes, “You want to be a kitten?” He asks, tilting his head to the side

There’s a sudden mix of embarrassment and confusion that rushes up your spine at his completely clueless expression, making you feel disoriented. “T-that’s…you used to call me kitten in college,” You reply, like it was the most obvious thing. Like it was something special.

His face finally lights up in recognition, “You remember that? Oh, honey that was forever ago,” He continues to focus on his pancakes, slightly chuckling at you

It was stupid really. Back in the days Jimin had countless other girls he flirted with, but he never called them anything but their birth name. So, you let kitten make you feel superior because he only ever gave you a nickname. Only you. And strangely, it also gave you a sense of belonging…to him. The first time he called you that, was the day Jimin had actually asked you to become his girlfriend. It was something you never expected even in your wildest dreams, you even remember the color underwear you wore that day. He used to say it was one of his warmest memories.

However, he seemed to be forgetting quite a lot about the past…your shared past. Almost as if he didn’t…You force yourself to snap out of it, the Jimin stuffing his face once again becoming visible to you. Shame fills you for thinking such terrible things about your husband. You weren’t an actual pet, you shouldn’t feel even slightly offended at his passive remark. There was something wrong with you…you needed to live in the now, with the Jimin that seemed so content in the moment. Forget the past already, you scold yourself, you left it behind for a reason.

It had been awhile but you were glad he was so happy. That you were making him so happy.

“Jimin,” You say delicately at the man putting on his dress shirt

“Hmm?” He turns around, making you nervous at the eye contact

“I’m going to be home early tonight; do you want to go out for dinner by the river?”

“Sorry,” He smiles, “I’m working late tonight”

“Oh” you say, not meaning to look so obviously dejected

“I’m sorry babe,” He comes towards you who’s standing by the bedside, your shoulders slumped in disappointment. Giving you a hug, he tells you about this stupid assignment his boss put him and his team on, how he’d rather spend time with you. That’s all it takes for you to melt into him and forget all about your discontentment. It’s been weeks since he last touched you, even gave you a moment in time to provide you with an explanation for his absence. You missed his warmth so much.

“It’s alright, I’ll finish up some overtime,” You tell him as he goes back to dressing himself up, tightening his silver Rolex on his wrist. You wonder if he heard you since he didn’t respond and left the room without a word.

Evening rolled around rather quickly that day, the sun rapidly making its way underneath the horizon. You were finishing up some last-minute touches on your report. Originally, it’d take someone 3 hours to finish this, but you finished it in half an hour. Sighing, you conclude you should just head home. Your couch was way more comfortable than this office chair, so might as well just wait for Jimin to get home again. He had told you not to disturb him at his work place unless you had a good reason to, and sadly you were out of excuses to go see him. Even if he was late, maybe tonight you both could catch up that show he loved or maybe he’d in the mood for something more intimate? It had been a while after all. Smiling to yourself you get up and make your way to your secretary.

“I’m done for the day Yura, you can go home if you’d like”

“Oh, thank you ma’am” She says smiling at you as you grab your coat. “Ma’am, did you get a chance to look at the new hires information I left on your desk”

“I didn’t yet, this board meeting is taking up most of my mind, I’ll take a look tomorrow” You reply, walking toward the glass doors leading to the elevators.

“Ma’am!” Your secretary of two years shouts when you’re about to open the door. She appears hesitant as you eye her with a questioning look, staring at the ground with furrowed brows. Shuffling on her feet, she tightens her closed fist making you concerned. There seemed to be something weighing her down.

She was a kind and bright girl, ready to do whatever you said. Sometimes you conjectured if she knew you a bit too well; as she would knock with coffee in her hand even before you had asked, or immediately made phone calls on your behalf the days the stress became too much for you. When she first joined your company, there was something about her eyes that reminded you of your childhood days. It made you secretly dote on her and promote her from her dull cubicle. Though, you weren’t the best at social cues. Each time you had a conversation with her, it would be directed back to work, even if you just wanted to have a casual lunch with her. You hated having social anxiety to the point of being afraid of your own secretary. Because of that, you never really knew anything about her, or any of the people you ever worked with. Other than a few names and birthdays. Just like high school, you had no one to call a friend.

Jimin, on the other hand, was the popular coworker. He had his colleagues wrapped around his fingers, they would be at his beck and call even on the weekends. It was magical really, it wasn’t like Jimin was anyone’s boss – more of a group leader and that somehow made him even more popular. Envy would overcome you, watching Jimin easily converse with someone he’d just met like he knew them for years. Both of Jimin and of the person who has your husband’s attention. That’s just how it was with Jimin, he knew what to say and when to say it. Not like you.

Even now, when you’re genuinely worried about the mysterious young woman, you don’t know how to correctly state your concern,

“Is everything alright, Yura?”

Seemingly snapping out of her thoughts, she gives you a wide-eyed glance,

“Umm…Yes! Everything’s fine. Umm…Please take an umbrella, it’s supposed to rain tonight…” She says before you watch her scurry off back to her desk

Thanks to Yura, you now had an excuse to see Jimin. Parking into the back lot of Jimin’s work place you grab the pizza you bought him and his team from his favorite restaurant, as well as an umbrella. You wanted to scold him because you always warned him to be careful and stay prepared, but instead he’d joke about how much of an organized worrywart you were. What if he were to get sick in the rain? His boss would kill him judging by how relentlessly he makes Jimin work. Taking a glimpse at the thundering sky, you rush inside the warm building to take the lift.

Broken.

Sighing you walk toward the stairs. Jimin’s office was on the 15th floor. Holding onto his pizza tight, you haste along the stairs, eagerly waiting to see his face. He’s probably so tired and knowing him he probably hasn’t eaten yet. You wonder if he’s even hydrated, you knew how hard Jimin could be on himself. Six years of marriage made you watch an insecure young man develop into a hard-working adult, who pushes his limits far too much for your liking. As you passed every floor, you could feel your knees become weak and a hint of sweat build along your forehead as your arms felt mildly sore from the edges of the pizza box. Breathing hard with each step, you worriedly hoped your make up was okay. You had redone your face in the bathroom of your building, wanting to please Jimin with your looks. Finally, you made it to the 15th floor, and walked into the hallway, trudging towards Jimin’s office on your tired feet.

Maybe you should’ve went home. Spend another cold night eating ramen in your kitchen. Watched the rain pour down in your empty apartment. Maybe you should’ve made something yourself, taken protection behind cooking like you did when life got lonely. Stayed up waiting for him in the afterhours again. Then maybe, just maybe your relationship wouldn’t have taken such a drastic turn. Maybe you could’ve stayed ignorantly blissful, with your gratified marriage of six years. Content with the fact that no matter how late, Jimin still managed to come home to you. You could’ve have continued to wordlessly live with that.

Whatever you could have done, you shouldn’t have come.

When you notice how silent it is on his floor, slight confusion fills you. Wasn’t his team supposed to be here working on an assignment? It felt like everyone had gone home already. As you reach his door, you freeze. The lights inside his office are so dim, they’re almost out. Has he gone home by now? You’re about to turn away when you hear a muffled noise from inside the room. Relief washes over you to know he’s still here, and you nudge the door open with your right arm.

You shouldn’t have come.

As soon as the door opens, the muffled voices are no longer stifled. Instead they come washing over you one after the other like the outside thunder…the moans that is.

You suck in a breath as you hear the all too familiar grunts and groans of your husband, and a feminine voice calling out to him

“Ji-Jimin – ah – Sir” the voice whines as a slapping sound become apparent in the air. They were easy to spot. Hiding behind a large plant next to his desk, you identify your husband holding someone against the large pillar in his room. Her body completely molded into his, and her long legs wrapped around his torso – tightly holding him close. Even through the leaves of the large plant, you could see his bulging muscles straining as he held onto her petite figure. You recognized her long blonde hair, it was the secretary he hired three months ago – the really sweet one who always gave you a bright smiled. Tina. It was such a strange feeling; standing there, watching your husband fuck into someone else up against the wall. You felt like an intruder.

The blinds of his window were shut, which almost makes you scoff out loud. But you tremble instead, looking down at the pizza in your arms. Amid your shaking, you hear the sound of tongues smacking together. When you look back up, you see him kiss her passionately, as she moans into his mouth. “Kitten,” You hear him growl. That’s when you had enough. Quickly you move away from the door as it wordlessly shut in front of you. The scene before you had gone from your eyes but was ingrained in your mind. It’s as if them having sex was seared inside your pupils. It takes you a moment to gather yourself, and before you know it, you’re sprinting into the stair case. The adrenaline making your flight downstairs easy as you carry the pizza box and umbrella out of the building.

It’s raining.

You navigate through the heavy rain to find your car, which was abruptly more difficult in the sudden darkness. When you reached your car, you barge in clumsily, throwing all the items in your hands onto the passenger side. After you slam the door shut; as the noise of the outside, wet world becomes lull, you realize how soaked you were. You watch the many raindrops litter your windshield, pouring like a drain reflecting your heart. Quietly you put your forehead on the steering wheel and try to block out the heavy beating of the rain and your heart.

You knew.

It was obvious wasn’t it. You knew he wasn’t really working overtime for the past two months. You knew he couldn’t possibly be texting Jin that much. You knew every time he averted his eyes, he was hiding something. Knew it was only a matter of time again.

He was clever, subtler than before; practically straining on the tip of his feet. He would shower before coming home, you could always smell the shampoo on his blow-dried hair. Instead of just staying too late, he now took business trips for a day or two, telling you in the sweetest voice he’d be home soon. He bought a second phone – in secret obviously – you would have never found out had it not been for the forgetful habit he had since college of leaving items in his coat pockets. You fell upon it while doing the laundry six days ago and a part of you wonders if he left it there on purpose. You were too scared to speak up about it.

You knew didn’t you.

So how can something you feel so mentally prepared for hurt so bad? Why are you shaking so hard that you have to hold yourself together with both of your arms – wrap them around yourself like a shield. Why are you crying – your tears in rhythm with the heavens above? Every time you close your eyes, you see the corrupt image of your husband and his lover, melting their sinful desires into one. Why is it killing you to know the truth? Were you grasping on to the smallest thread – the smallest hope that Park Jimin wouldn’t hurt you; that he wouldn’t leave you when your own mother left you? How foolish.

You realize the heavy truth of Jimin’s past affairs. Conjuring a vague idea of what and who he might be doing things to – that he should only be doing with you - and visually experiencing the reality your husband pounding into another woman is beyond nauseating. You felt so dirty by what you saw, so disgusted in your own body. Angry beyond despair, you wanted to tear off your skin. This woman you embodied, not worth loving by her own man, was worth nothing. The pandora box had opened.

“Mm – ah” you choke through your tears as the pain in your chest travels through your body like fatal poison, twisting around in your gut like a blade. All your hidden insecurities swim towards the surface, drowning you in your sorrow. Why would it be different this time? Why would someone love you? You recall your mother telling you something discreetly similar on your wedding day. That woman, that wise, wise woman – haunted by her own past. She was right.

Of course, this would happen, just look at you. What’s special about you? Tina walks with her head high, speaks with passion, is young and full of life. You’re practically a hag by now. He looked more satisfied in that moment then he’s ever looked at you, even at your best. Your cries become broken, your voice failing you every few seconds. Someone as bright as Park Jimin could never love someone as dim as you. He called her kitten, she’s his sweet kitten now.

You’re glad your illusion’s shattered. The moments you’ve doubted every happy second in your life, was a prediction of the future – this future. Nights you’ve laid awake while Jimin was snoring next to you, contemplating the sincerity of his actions, if he’ll really ever be content to be with you. All your questions are answered. And you feel like laughing at yourself really. Did you really believe someone as unworthy as you deserved happiness?

Hours pass by before you become too numb to feel the ache. Looking at the rain clouds, you marvel if the universe is trying to share your pain. It’s eerily familiar, this scene. Just like 3 years ago with Mina. You smile bitterly, how awful that you could never escape this fate no matter where you run off to. Even though you shouldn’t, you glance at Jimin’s office window. Still shut tightly and hidden away from you. You wonder if they’re still going at it…if your husband is still making love with her as passionately as he did with you on your first night. Fresh tears prick the corners of your eyes and you use that as a signal to clean your puffy eyes and drive home through the storm.

Jimin comes home around 2 in the morning. It was dark when he enters the house and he wonders if you’ve actually gone to sleep this time. It’s a good thing, at least he wouldn’t have to deal with you tonight. Whistling silently, he puts his keys on the counter, coordinating through the shadows by memory. It was raining so hard, he was worried about getting home. Thankfully Tina lent him an umbrella. As he’s taking off his coat, a strong burst of lightning startles him and he notices your silhouette sitting by a sofa chair near the window.

“You’re up?” He asks, confused as to why you’re sitting there in the dark, facing away from his view. You don’t say anything as you let thunder answer for you. Jimin sighs, “Babe, I told you not to stay up for me, haven’t I?”

When you don’t answer again, he walks over to the light switch and turns it on, squinting a bit at the now bright living room. That’s when he regards the boxes on the table.

“You bought pizza?” He asks, walking up to the dining room table, “…It’s soaked”

He looks at your motionless figure, perplexed by your silence.

“Baby…is everything okay?”

Jimin stays noiseless. Why’re you acting so strange he thinks, unnerved by your certain sullenness. He knows that generally, you aren’t very talkative, you aren’t bold or assertive, but after six years of marriage he can tell you always say what needs to be said. You’re honest and empathetic towards people, which is why they gravitate to you so easily. It’s why he married you. Today is the first day in years he can’t figure you out.

“…I…bought pizza on my way home,” You speak up slowly, your hoarse voice making you wince and cough, “But the rain caught me by surprise”

“It’s ruined,” Jimin states, as a matter of fact, picking up the edge of the soggy pizza box with his finger

“It’s ruined,” You answer back

In the reticence of the large room, Jimin captures an umbrella next to the boxes on the table. He’s even more confused now as to why you didn’t use the object, seeing as how wet it was, leading him to believe you had it on you. Of course, you would have one on you, little miss perfectionist. Almost everything you did was smart and logical, he could never catch up to you who could never make a mistake. So then, why didn’t you use the umbrella, he speculates.

His thoughts are interrupted by your voice sounding directly behind him.

“I bought it for you”

He turns to look at you; a bit wide-eyed and startled. He takes in your wet form, from the water slowly dripping out of the ends of your hair to the drenched coat you hadn’t removed off your body – even though you were shivering. The hair on his arms raise in alert as he takes a step back from your sad state,

“I bought it for you…” You say silently, not an emotion on your face

“…Are you sad that it’s ruined for me?” He says walking toward you

“…Yes”

“Oh Hon,” He hugs you and you harden at impact. You want to push him away and yell at him, tell him that it’s all worthless. Instead you stand there, tearing up in his arms, drenching his shirt with your tresses. You wanted to be loved by him so bad. You needed Jimin more than you needed to breathe and you would do whatever it takes to make him love you. Even if that means that he’ll have someone else in his life, even if you might be discarded tomorrow – as long as he comes home to you, you’ll continue to love Jimin. That moment, as he holds you to him while patting your hair, you let tears fall onto his shoulder feeling completely abandoned.

“I already ate, it’s alright”

Jimin had made you feel foolishly special.

“You’re so cute” Jimin laughs, holding your face in his palms as your puffy red face pouts and your tiny hands push away at his shoulder

“I-I’m telling you, I don’t know” You huff, prying at his strong hands.

“Well then, I’ll tell you the answer, but only if you ask nicely” He breathes into your face and you freeze from his proximity. He was always like this. So flirtatious, it made your knees buckle, so touchy, it made flames burn inside you for hours. You tell yourself he was only joking, to not mistaken his friendly nature as something distinct just for you. It made your heart throb, watching him giggle with other girls this way, whispering in their ear’s words meant only for them. It was how you knew you’d never mean anything to him, not like he meant to you.

You weren’t dating, although a few people who didn’t know you existed a few months ago came up to you and asked often. It hurt you in a way, the confusion in their faces as they studied you for a second. As if you knew why Jimin was so attached to you; why he came looking for you after each one of his classes, why he ran up to you every time he saw you in the hallway, or why he was so insistent on making time for you two to hang out despite his legions of pals to keep him company instead. The presentation with him was long from over, you had gotten an A, as usual. Yet he still continued to connect with you, leaving you muddled. You both became friendly rather quickly, and you fell in love even faster. It wasn’t like Jimin had any competition.

It also hurt to answer them with your memorized reply,

“We aren’t together. He is just…a friend”

You wished you could keep Jimin all to yourself, but you recognized that was such a selfish and irresponsible way of thinking.

It was quite despicable how smitten you were for him, swooning at the smallest wave of his hand. You wonder if he noticed, but actually, you’re certain he did. The way he’d smile at you every time you gave him the exact reaction he wanted. You wouldn’t know it, but he craved your responses. Having someone become so vulnerable with just a twitch of his eye was in a word – addictive. He loved having you so weak, so pliable…and he was the molder. He was a god to you, and he could never have enough of your hypnotized gaze.

“Please” You whisper in tiny tone which had him breaking out of his thoughts. Being pinned to a wall in your dorm room on a Friday night wasn’t what you had planned when Jimin offered to drop you off today, but here you were. Jimin had somehow managed to sneak into your doorway, weaseling his self onto your bed and asking you tons of weird questions.

“Alright baby,” You clench your eyes shut as he breathes into your ear, “If you were to be an animal – any animal – you’d be my own sweet little kitten” He purrs for an extra effect as you have to force your mouth shut before a moan slips out

“Jimin,” You mumble, practically falling onto his embrace; questioning why he did this stuff to you, as he pets your head gently. Nonetheless you’d have to remember, he was like this with everyone, you weren’t special to him. It made your gut clench with unspoken desire, but it was the truth. You were just a reactive pet to him, nothing more.

“There, there, my cute, sweet, tiny little kitten”

For the past 2 weeks, you’d been avoiding Jimin as much as you could. Not that you wanted to, but what you felt you had to. Your body was screaming at you – screeching through your ears to find Jimin – find his warmth, his love. But it was futile. It was as if he was your only source of vitality; a forbidden fruit you shouldn’t touch.

In return, you were a ghost with a physical body. You became demurer – more passive, almost like were waiting to completely disappear. Anything Jimin asked would be answered with a one- or two-word reply, you stopped hugging and kissing him all together, going as far as to avoid touches he’d initiate. Touches you used to crave more than air. Working was out of the question; your energy was depleted and even simple tasks like washing your hands was problematic. There were large bags under your eyes and the bones of your cheeks begun to stick out because you weren’t eating. You weren’t sleeping either, insomnia had taken control of your nights and you’d lay there listening to yourself berate you for driving Jimin away. Sometimes you’d take sleeping pills…sometimes you wish you could take them all.

You wonder if Jimin noticed. There were times when he was leaving for work or ‘hanging out with Jin’ that you catch a glimpse of his eyes, a ring of remorse surrounding his irises. Even so, he never acted upon it. He tries to make small talk at dinner these days, as an attempt to pacify you supposedly. Since that night he saw you drenched, he stares at your sunken face for a bit too long, when he thinks you aren’t paying attention. If you were in any other circumstance, you would have laughed at his effort. The reality though, is that you were losing a grip on life, wanting to fade away…you weren’t sure why Jimin stayed. You don’t know why he bothered, by now he knows he could do anything he wanted and would get away with it. Because you love him too much, because he’s all you have.

You took a month off from work. Your boss was stunned, her best employee who didn’t even take sick days suddenly taking a whole month? But she didn’t question it, she knew how hard of a worker you were and if you were doing this then there must be an important reason. She would even go as far as saying you were the most valuable employee; always on time, always going above and beyond, it’s why she made you a manager when you were just 5 months into your job. Work was a constant priority for you, you didn’t want to give it up either. It was a large cause in you and Jimin growing apart, in your opinion. Taking all those extra shifts and staying late made you near perfect at what you did. And you loved it – took pride in your job. But if your boss told you no, you were ready to quit, even having a resignation letter already typed up. Thankfully she had a soft spot for you.

No one was more shocked than Jimin however. He questioned you about it over and over. It seemed like you were a Rubik’s cube he was trying to solve. None of his prying methods worked, and it took him three days…three days to give up pestering you. Ask if you were doing okay. You thought you were worth more to him than that.

But recent events reminded you that you meant nothing to him. Nothing.

Waking up in the mornings was one of the hardest things you had to do. Jimin had already left for work and the house felt as empty as usual. You didn’t want to get up, you had no reason to. Any vigor you had last week felt spent; dissipating into thin air with such insignificance.

Now that you weren’t busy with some form of work for the first time in seven or eight years, you took note of how small your world was. All you would do is go to work or come home and wait for Jimin. You really didn’t have any friends, there wasn’t anyone you could talk to, opting to staying in bed and staring off into space. Into a parallel universe where you weren’t so pathetic, and your husband didn’t hate your guts.

Again, you wake up in the middle of the night. For the past few days you’ve been having the same nightmare. Jimin’s stone cold face turning away from you who’d on the ground in a black void. You call out to him at the top of your lungs – stretching your hand as far as it could go – but it’s no use, he’s walking away from you and up to someone faceless woman…maybe Tina. When you wake up, you’re drenched in sweat and tears, and there’s an ache inside your heart. The same one when you caught Jimin with his professor, with his best friend…with his secretary. And suddenly you’re replaying that horrid scene.

You’re in that dim room again, the dry leaves of that plant are still cutting through your view. Your husband is moaning as he thrusts into Tina’s tight pussy. She’s chanting his name over and over and you start crying at your own imagination. A strumming makes way through your body as you place a hand over your mouth to keep your voice quiet, so you don’t disturb Jimin. You’ll never be as good as her, your brain screams. Even if you can keep him during the day, you’ll never be able to satisfy him at night. Look at you, he didn’t even try to touch you tonight. He doesn’t want you. Tina’s tall and slender, beautiful curves and a gentle demeanor. You’re stale and old. Why have you when he can have the pretty new thing? He’s probably thinking of her the whole time he spends with you.

This night you peeked at Jimin’s sleeping figure. His back slowly tenses as he breathes in and out. You didn’t want to wake him, you really didn’t, but you needed his love so bad right now. Maybe it was the pills you took encouraging you to wrap your arms around his waist.

Maybe it was the darkness of the bedroom making you lean into him, push your face up against his back.

He stirs in his sleep and you feel your heart beating faster.

“Jimin” You whisper, feeling up on his body to placate your heart. To tell it that he’s right here, in your arms. He hasn’t gone away. “Jimin”

“Mm…not tonight,” Jimin says in a groggy voice, removing your arms from his torso, “I’m tired,” You sense slight irritation in his tone and move away from him. If he took a second to turn around, he would have seen the absolute devastation on your face.

He didn’t even try to see if you were okay, he just… fell back asleep without a word. You didn’t want sex…when have you ever wanted sex?! All you wanted him to do was to hold you and console you. Pacify you to sleep, like he used to when you first told him about your mom…or when you had a bad day at work. You didn’t want sex…you just wanted your husband, your most trusted friend, your first love.

You were right. You could never satisfy Jimin…so he didn’t even try to find it from you. He went to someone he knew could give it to him. Turning away from him you muffle your tears into your pillow.

In that cold bedroom, too lonely for your state of mind, too small to fit your insecurities, too fragile to hold you together, you realize the adult human heart is capable of shattering twice in one week.

You felt everything at once. The darkness of the silent chamber, the cold air contrast to his warm skin, the shivers in your spine from his fleeting touches. You took it all in. The sweat dripping through the rails of his skin, the mountains in his muscles, the flavor of his sultry voice. It was the formation of a galaxy, tearing you apart and putting you together.

The kisses he trails along your chest – his plush lips lax against the bumps on your skin leaving their marks of fire with sugar like attention. It left you in a moaning, quivering chaos. Your fingers ache to touch him, to rest themselves amongst his silky strands, shaking ever so softly. Yet your arms lay immobile on your sides.

Satisfied with tasting you he moves up using his muscled arms – he’s so gentle in handling you, like you were fragile glass. You look him in his scarlet eyes – violet spots tainting your vision.

His smile sinks as he takes in your face, angling his head and cupping your cheek.

“Why are you crying?” He asks

You didn’t take notice, letting out a tiny wheeze at his baritone. You had felt the tears, riding the curve of your cheekbones, settling onto the pillow beside your head – but you payed it no mind. More concerned with the glimmer of the angel perched above you. Even then, you bring up your nimble fingers to stroke them in amazement, as if you don’t see the culprit right before you. When your fingers crash into his hand, you take ahold of it, bringing to you lips to worship the man pining you into the bed.

“I…I love you” You choke out, drenched in the anxiety of your brain’s venom – persistently pulling you back to a somber reality. “I’m scared”

His eyes begin to match the room’s shade, his fist clench the sheets. A sensation lit deep within you, a realization of your angel’s call.

“Don’t worry baby, I’ll be gentle. I’ll make you feel so good, don’t worry”

He bends over to you, molding your lips together. You take him in without a complaint, your tongues dance around – the etiquette of personal space banished into the light. You gasp in his mouth as he slides into you, holding onto his arm with your small palm.

He lets out a groan once he’s completely seethed in your nectar. His face scrunches, eyebrows pushed together and eyes clenched as you arch your back at his intrusion; your face but a mere reflection. So slow, does he take himself back out with the expulsion of a breath, leaving in only the head as you whine in complaint and clench around him.

But he shushes you back up with his tongue, pushing into you once again afterward. His pace is steady; comforting like a serenade to the spring flowers. You try to control your breathing, but it’s useless as he moves inside you, hugging your frame with his large arms.

“You’re such a good kitten – fuck – better than anyone”

The silk sheets move under your body like tidal waves, while Jimin embodies the moon. A perfect balance of power, you’ve never felt so right until this – until the wetness between your thighs no longer embarrasses you. Instead you welcome it, twisting your own leg with one of Jimin’s so he could get deeper within you, light his fire beneath your soul.

“Mm– ahhh, baby you feel so good, so perfect,” He sighs in your ear, trying to keep control of his movements. He doesn’t want to break you, he could never imagine being rough with you like he has been with countless nameless girls.

But he can’t help making his pace a bit faster when you whimper into the air – your speech like honey – pushing his repressed aggression forward.

“Jimin…Ah Jimin…. Jimin…I-…”

“Shhh…” he shushes your desperate call, rubbing your head with his hand.

“Mm- I’m cumming” You cry out in a tiny voice, so helpless and frightened it makes his heart ache. Your ears were ringing, and your womanhood was already sensitive from Jimin’s hour long ministrations; you were going to explode any second.

“Come baby, it’s all right, come for me my good girl” He arcs his hand until his fingers are in contact with your bud, painting loops on your most delicate area. You can no longer stop the sobs from spilling out of your mouth.

It was just that small push in his tone that undid the knot chained inside you as you hold onto his back with your nails digging into his holy skin. Words of affection fell from your lips, jaw lax at his girth.

A couple more thrusts and whines from you has him over the edge, spilling into you with his head thrown back, mouth ajar from your tightness.

When he finally remembers how to breathe again, he collapses off you, and pulls you into his chest.

It feels as if he ran a marathon as his heavy breaths catch up to him one after the other. When has he ever cum this hard with anyone else, and that too with nothing but pure vanilla? Glancing at your figure, he finds you on the verge of fainting, clutching onto him as if your life depended on it. He smiles, moving the hair sticking to you away from your face.

“Jimin,” You mumble, half of your conscious already in dreamland

“Hmm?” He asks, intrigued by your exhausted state. You’re usually so proper, so level headed, it’s always amusing to see you become like this all because of him. You’re his amusing kitten.

“I love you”

You fell asleep before you heard his answer.

It was a night like any other. You were waiting for Jimin to come home so you could take your sleeping pills and waste away to another morning. He hadn’t come home yet, and the clock was striking 1:30 AM. The cruel part of your mind was out in full force today, repeating every time he told you he loved you, just to be with someone else. Curling into a fetal position and shutting your eyes tight, you try to drown out the sound of you yelling at yourself.

Instead your mind decides to take you there again, in that place where this all started. The dim room, the closed blinds. Your husband and his lover. This time though, you’re on the other side of that pillar. There’s no plant blocking your view, no door to escape out of; just you, your husband and the girl he’s fucking against the pillar.

You stand there, frozen at the obscene image. It felt so real, so close you could almost touch it.

“S-sir” She moans in delight, Jimin hitting a particular spot that has her mewling. Is this how it’s like every night…on those business trips? This is who your husband is when he’s not around your presence. So lively and full of passion.

Suddenly, they both look at you, who’s trembling in tears that fell without your knowledge. They glare into your eyes, Jimin still thrusting into her, as she moans out your husband’s name. Then they laugh. Your eyes widen, and you take a step back, away from their menacing stare. Loud, sinister laughs echo off the walls of the compact office, you put your hands above your ears but it’s no use. Mina and Jessica stand before you, both with equally menacing expressions and they’re all laughing. You’re falling into an endless void of Jimin’s words, his laughter screeching inside your eardrums, yelling out a band of hidden insecurities.

“You’re nothing”

“– Worthless”

“You don’t even have a friend”

“Who would love you”

“– So boring I want to take my eyes out”

“She doesn’t act dead in bed”

“I only married you because I pitied you”

“No!” You sit up with a blood curling scream. A dream you pant…just a dream. You clutch at your heart as sobs escape your throat. Taking a peek at the clock reveals it’s 2:45 AM. Shaking in your bed, you move about and whisper to yourself. It was just a dream, wasn’t it? Trying to calm down, you hush yourself until all you could hear was the subtle whirr of the air conditioning.

“Jimin?” You call out, wondering if he’s out there in the far darkness

No answer. Why wasn’t he home yet? Even in his careless cheating days he always came home by 2, so where the hell was he today?

Getting up from the bed, you shiver slightly in your sleeveless nightgown. You walk into the living room and turn on the light as you eye it inside and out, trying to find signs of another body. Picking up your cellphone, you click his contact on speed dial. Tsk, voice mail, what did you expect. You throw your phone across the room as sadness fills your bones and you pull on your hair in frustration.

You can’t be in here. Everything reminds you of Jimin. The couch you both cuddled on for movie marathons, the kitchen you spent hours in preparing food to make him smile, the foyer you danced waltz to every night in the first month of your move. You felt sick – suffocated in the reminder of Jimin’s absence.

Grabbing your coat, you leave your apartment to find the elevator. The top floor had a terrace like rooftop practically made for late night loners. As the elevator doors ding open, you walk onto the cold pavement of the dark flat roof. You walk up to the edge of the building, blocked by a wide cement wall reaching up to your waist. You observe the loud city, the bustling cars, the honking and yelling, police sirens in the distance. It was so far away, yet everything felt so adjacent. Carefully you nudge your leg over the wall, one after the other. Then you take a moment and sit down on the space, legs dangling over the ledge. Beneath your feet was stunning scenery that could turn into a nightmare with just the slightest wrong move.

In that moment you don’t care though, softly kicking your feet up and down. For a few short moments, everything felt like it was alright. You forgot how horrid your life really is. A mother who discarded your presence, a father who left without a goodbye, no friend in sight, so much work made for a fruitless cause, and a husband who never loved you. It was when you were so caught up in a day dream so tragic; that falling off hundreds of feet seemed so rewarding. Why were you so worthless? Why were you nothing? A dangerous view settles inside your head. If you were to jump this instance, would Jimin be sad? Would he ever let out as many tears as you shed?

Would he hold you for the last time and tell you that he loved you all along?

“Please don’t do somethin’ rash”

Comes a voice behind you in the shadows, startling you out of your daze. Your wide eyes turn to look at the perpetrator of the worried tone. There, a few feet away from you on the roof stands a middle-aged man with the bud of a cigarette on the corner of his lips. His brows are furrowed in concentration and his stance is defensive, ready to hold onto you lest you took a leap into the light below.

“I-I wasn’t going to,” You stutter. It was true, you weren’t. Maybe you pondered on the subject a tad, but you really weren’t. Not tonight.

“Oh, thank god,” he physically deflates, running a hand through his wavy black hair. “Sorry, you just seemed to be swimmin’ in sadness, my mistake”

Reaching into his trousers’ pocket, he reveals a green Bic lighter

“You mind?” He directs at you.

You shake your head, a bit hesitant to speak to a complete stranger – stiffening up when he come close to your ledge – standing right next to you. He was around Jimin’s height, cat-like features prominent on his pale moon skin.

“My name’s Yoongi” He reaches his hand out towards you. It takes you a moment, staring at his hand and then his face, until you’re shaking his hand and giving him your name.

“That’s a pretty name,” He smiles, puffing out a gust out smoke, “So, what’s a young lady like you doing out here all alone?”

At another moment of your life, maybe you would have ignored his question. Maybe you would have lied. However, this time – you don’t recall what it was that caused you to tear up, to let a silent sob escape your lips. To tell this man you don’t know about your problems,

“My…husband,” You sniffle slightly, inaudibly whispering the second word as if it was a curse

“Hmm?” He questions, not quite catching what you said which make you clear your throat

“My husband,” you start again, “He’s not home yet”

There’s a part of you that hopes he understands without you having to say anything else, and another part that screams at you for being so brazen – so careless.

It seems like he understood though as you hear him murmur a small, seemingly sympathetic scoff

“I see…I wouldn’t have thought a guy like him would do that…he looks so bright and honest” He pauses to take a whiff of his cigarette before he continues “Guess you can’t judge a book by its cover”

“You know of him?” You ask cautiously

“I know of you both! I live on the floor above ya’ll and he’s greeted me in the lobby a few times. And you’re the busy little lady that comes back from work around the same time I leave for it! I pass you on the elevator all the time.”

You rack your brain trying to think of the times you saw him, if you’ve ever seen him. Nothing really comes to mind unsurprisingly, you’re not really a people’s person. Instead you opt to pull your beige coat tighter around you, due to the early morning chill making its way up your bare legs into your spine

He glances at you in deep thought and chuckles, “Don’t think too hard, I don’t really have the most memorable face”

His easy-going nature made you smile. You were glad he was pleasant instead of a creep.

“What kind of work do you do?” You find yourself asking him

Reaching into his coat’s pocket he brings out a compact white business card and hands it to you. You carefully examine the card with the help of the city’s lights while he speaks up

“I run a night club near downtown. Cypher road, ever heard of it?”

You shake your head at him

“Actually, I’ve seen your husband there a few times”

At the mention of Jimin, your eyes widen. You looked like a kicked puppy and he quickly scrambles to fix his statement-

“Don’t worry! He was only there a few times with his male buddies, nothin’ bad I swear! They ain’t do nothin’ but drink and act like fools”

You giggle at him as he waves his hands in the air in desperation. Seeing that you’ve calmed yourself through his antics makes him giggle as well. He puts out his cigarette on the ledge’s concrete, breathing out the last puff before speaking,

“I was married once too ya’know”

“Once?” You question

“He died… stage 4 pancreatic cancer” He replies monotonal, a distant gaze in his eyes

“Oh…I’m sorry”

“It’s fine, shit happens” He gives you a grin which makes your heart churn, “But the thing about him – about marriage that I’ve learned is the happy moments stand out no matter how bitter the reality actually was.”

He flicks the burned-out cigarette forward with his thumb and index finger. It falls away into the abyss underneath.

“Even 5 years later, I still remember him laughin at a dumb joke I made or not lettin my hand goes during horror movies. Ya’know the sweet stuff. I’m rarely reminded of the difficulties we went through because of his disease – how much it hurt when he shut everyone…when he shut me out”

He closes his eyelids and you wipe tears lingering in your own. It was strange how him sharing his pain made you feel a bit better about your own.

“What I’m tryin to say is, the torture I went through the first year after his death, I survived that. Agonizing thoughts of him not bein with me, not holdin him to sleep changed into me appreciatin the time we had together. And I had to do that alone – without him, even if there was a period where I felt that I couldn’t live a second if he was gone. Time moves forward and it heals all.”

“No pain lasts forever”

You silently listen to him and reflect about your own marriage. One day…would you be able to forgive Jimin…survive without him? Would he be able to survive without you?

“…All I’m sayin is that you deserve better”

Deserve better? You? You’ve never thought of it like that. Wasn’t it Jimin who deserved better? That’s what you always clinched. From the first time he cheated on you, to now. And no one ever told you any different…until this moment. In these past six years, or even since you were a child, did you ever think about just yourself? About how you felt? Did Jimin?

“You should come there too someday, it’s a real nice place, Cypher Road. A bit loud but overall nice” Yoongi interrupts your thoughts, pointing at his card with his silver ring encrusted pinky finger

Taking a breath, you look at the card and then to the city buildings. How long have you lived in this city without evening going to a park let alone a nightclub? Crowds and noise weren’t really your thing, you’d rather spend a Saturday night curled up with Jimin on your sofa listening to Dean Martin records. Though, you look back at the card in your hand, it’s not like that’ll happen again anytime soon. Jimin had always been everything you wanted, but for a second as you sit there, you feel as if you’ve missed out on so much. Guilt follows you soon after for feeling that way.

Would Jimin like it if you went there? If you…were to be that person…someone who was more outgoing, curt or sexy. If you wore revealing clothes or painted your nails every week. Would Jimin like you then? Would he make love to you again?

It was absurd to even think about…but just maybe? Desperation reeked out of your heart like toxic gas – your insides twisting as you hold on to the card tighter. You felt so pathetic

Your shocked out of your trance by a hand lightly touching your shoulder,

“Don’t fret too much, it’s all good,” Yoongi gives you a friendly smile, “Come only if you want to, I ain’t forcing you”

You watch him leave back into the building and you turn to the bright metropolis in front of you again. What are you thinking? You laugh at yourself, at your imprudent behavior. Why would dressing differently make Jimin like you? You’d still be boring old you, it’s not like getting great grades in school made your mom love you or your dad come back.

The problem is just you, just this bad fortune you were cursed with. No one would ever love you.

Deciding to call it a night, you hop onto the rooftop’s pavement and make your way towards the elevators again. Before entering, you take one last look at the beautiful metropolis; the ambience you’ve never got to enjoy. Bright light and endless chatter, a strangely serene completing puzzle piece to the large earth. You take a glance at the starless night sky and the vanishing moon, before entering into the warm building.

When you open the door to your apartment, you’re met with the astonished eyes of Park Jimin. He has both his and your phone in his hands, holding them up as if he was inspecting them. Subtly, you slip the card into your coat pocket, before hanging it by the rack next to the doorway

You awkwardly stand there for a moment before he asks you,

“Where were you? I tried calling you and I found this behind the dining table” He points your phone at you, his voice sounding worried

You recall how you had thrown your phone into a wall out of anger and haste, which makes you sigh as you close the door and walk up to Jimin.

“I was taking a breath of fresh air…on the rooftop”

“At this time of night?” He gives you an indescribable stare

Anger swells up in your chest at his tone, and before you could help it you’re bitterly mumbling out an answer

“It’s not like you were god knows where at this time of night”

You could tell you’re both shocked by your reply – or more so the annoyance in your words. Jimin stands there a bit, trying to read your expression. Why was that so hard for him these days?

“Sorry babe…I fell asleep…in the office” He tries reaching out to you, but you take a step back to avoid him.

Just like a while ago, you feel nauseous. It was amazing really…how easily he lied to you as if it was nothing. As if you couldn’t smell the perfume on his clothes. You feel tears crawl up your eye sockets but you breathe in and try to keep your emotion at bay,

“It’s fine, let’s just get to sleep” you say, passing him by before he could say another word. You miss the gloomy gaze in Jimin’s pupils, staring longingly at the outline of your back.

The door thumps open with a sudden gust of wind. Your eyes fly to the two bodies sticking together in the entrance.

“Oh. Thank god, Mina! I was so worried,” Running up to them, you promptly place your hand on Jimin’s chest, who’s giggling and limping hanging onto said woman’s shoulder

The woman chuckles as she adjusts the taller man, letting him lean more towards you. “Your husband here doesn’t know when to quit, even though I win every time”

Jimin looks up and makes eye contact with you, giving you his dazzling million-dollar smile, “My lovely ___~”, he stretches the syllable of your name at the end

You sigh as Mina lets him go completely and he now clings onto you, heavy alcohol compressing his natural scent. He always came back like this after a night at Vertigo’s, the prestige club at the other side of town. Carefully gathering him in your arms, you walk with him into the bedroom, taking cautious steps. In return, he noses your neck while cooing your name, making it difficult to keep your balance steady.

After you’ve gently laid him in bed, you take off his shoes. Undoing his pants, you slide them off as he fusses around like a child. It would make you smile usually, Jimin’s adorable state, if this scene hadn’t been done for the hundredth time this year. You were tired of him going to unknown faraway places to party and drink, while he missed plans you two had made around the corner. He would always apologize though, tell you how he just needed a way to release stress from his job.

It was always a habit for him, he never seemed to like any of his bosses, all of them relentlessly working him to the bone. Which in turn made him grouchy and tired. Jimin never bad mouthed anyone, therefore you knew it had to be serious.

And so, you sympathized with him; started to forgive more and say less. Pretty soon he was going out every night, his female companion always having to trudge him home. When you set his pants and shoes aside, you move to his button up, removing each button quickly as he quietly stares at you – heavy breathing in your face.

He grabs your wrist suddenly, once you’re halfway through and it makes you glance up at him. His eyes are heavy and dark, pupils dilated, and plush lips parted. Staring at you through heavy lids, he slowly feels over the skin on your wrist with his fingers, making you shiver. Jimin was a beautiful man indeed. Who wouldn’t forgive such an angelic face?

As much as you wanted to fall into the chasm that were his eyes, you knew this wasn’t the proper time. He was drunk after all, so you shook of his hand relentingly and finished unbuttoning his shirt. Pulling the covers up on him, you watched as his eyes fluttered shut with fondness. You gather the shirt in your arms, turning to the doorway when you freeze.

Something had moved…away from the bedroom’s entrance. It looked like someone’s head. The only person here other than you both was Mina. She couldn’t have been spying into your bedroom…could she?

Shaking off what you saw as a mistake, you walked into the living room. Mina was sitting on the couch opposite from you, seeming a bit apprehensive.

“Is he asleep?”

“Yes, you know Jimin. It doesn’t take long for him to fall asleep after drinking”

She gives you a half-hearted laugh as you set down Jimin’s shirt on a chair. Mina sat a few feet away, but you were barely able to make out her facial expression. The vague lighting of the living room had always been a pet peeve of Jimin’s. He always found something to complain about around the house, because he always wanted to live in a luxurious apartment in an upper north city, unlike you. You loved this place and this city. They provided you with the sense of familiar comfort, like Jimin did. You couldn’t imagine parting with the city where you met the love of your life.

As Mina starts recalling the story of how she won their drinking game this time, you fondle with his shirt. Your body aching to go lie down with him already.

It’s when you noticed it.

“Lipstick…”

“What?”

“There’s lipstick on the collar,” You say, picking up the edge of his shirt with your index finger. A small bright red stain rested on his off-white shirt. Your heart started to beat faster.

“O-Oh…T-that was me,” Mina answers, immediately shooting up from her spot

You glance at her, “You?”

“Guilty,” She says awkwardly, “Jimin gets really fussy on my shoulder and we accidently bump into each other all the time”

At her explanation, you collapse inside your head – relived. For a second, you were beginning to wonder if Jimin’s recent distance was due to another Jessica. No, that was only a one-time thing you remind yourself. Jimin wouldn’t do that to you. Letting out a breath, you send a smile at Mina’s direction. The girl appeared to be sweating in her heels.

“Mina, thank you so much for always taking such good care of him. I don’t know what I would do without you”

She stretches her lips at you, “N-no problem. He’s my friend”

“Do you want something to drink? Something to sober you up maybe?” You question her. Moving your body in line with the kitchen

“No!” She shouts, quickly stepping her way to the entrance, “I always love your food, but I-I should leave, it’s getting late”

“Are you sure?” You furrow your brows, “Why don’t you stay the night?”

“Thanks, but no thanks. I really should head out”

“Alright, be careful” You smile, walking up to her

She stares at you for a minute. It looks like there’s something she wants to say. You tilt your head at her.

“_-___ I-”

You stay silent, waiting for her to finish her sentence. But instead she chokes up, tears swelling in her doll eyes as she quivers in her spot. It makes you bothered, your lips pulled into a straight line. You are about to open your mouth when-

“Nothing, good night,” Turning around, she hastily pulls the door open

“Wait are you o-”

“Yup, good night” She doesn’t give you time to finish before she slams the door shut. Leaving you with your mouth somewhat ajar.

That was strange, you think. Mina and you had a friendly relationship. You wouldn’t go as far as to say you both were friends, she didn’t seem to prefer your company when Jimin wasn’t around. But you were fine with that, you liked her because Jimin liked her, trusted her because he did. Although, you were a bit jealous about how comfortable Jimin was with her. It just comes with friendship, you concluded you wouldn’t understand. In the end, you play it off as another misunderstanding like when you were in the bedroom.

You were really disorganized that night, just having had a long day at work and then staying up late for Jimin. You were probably really out of it.

Not even noticing that she wasn’t wearing red lipstick.

A couple of days past since that night, you were busy reading emails Yura sent you in the wake of your absence. You missed it, honestly. Dealing with numbers and graphs, presenting said graphs you spent the whole night perfecting, the results of your hard work being admired; being complimented. If you think back on it, you’ve always needed the approval of someone authoritative – someone above you. At first it was your mother, and now it’s your boss, the CEO of your company. You’ve never had anything you wanted to do out of passion or because it actually made you happy. The last time was six years ago, at the altar with Jimin. But your job was still better than this. It was better than being stuck at home, behind the most confining 4 walls – all by yourself. Enslaved by no one but your own mind. This place was once your sanctuary, the one you wanted to come back to, the one once filled with Jimin.

There were hours, sometimes days, that you would spend zoning out. All of your daydreams consisted of wondering what Jimin and Tina were doing together. Were they on a date? Perhaps they were making love in his office or a motel or Tina’s or anywhere they could. It was thoughts like these that drove you insane, until you were nothing but an empty shell. Crying didn’t help anymore, you ceased that a while ago. Food was tasteless, the bright sun no longer made your sentiments yearn. There was no want in your heart left; abandoned by its owner.

There was no love either.

As you open Yura’s last email, you stumble upon a sentence that raises your brows. ‘Company X merger with south district nightclub.’ You think back on a few nights ago, on that terrace at 3 in the morning with that stranger named Yoongi. Moving your eyes off your laptop, you look around your silent living room. It was Saturday night and you were alone…you and Jimin hadn’t even spoken to each other for the last two days. Since your rude behavior a few days ago, Jimin had been tip toeing around you a lot more. Not even trying to come home at 2 anymore, sometimes he’d spend the whole night away. He didn’t even make eye contact at the dinner table, yet alone make conversation. You might as well have been alone all 24 hours of a day.

“I’ve seen him there a few times”

Closing your laptop, you get up from your sofa chair and make your way to the coat rack. You pull out the small card Yoongi had given you and look at the club’s address. Taking a quick peek at the clock, you conclude you’ll be back home in 2 hours if the traffic is good. If…you were actually going to do this…

Like you weren’t in control of your body, your feet drag themselves to your room and into your closet. Your possessed frame wasn’t corresponding with your brain who kept repeating how bad of an idea this was. Picking out an old dress, one from your more youthful days, you do a light set of make-up and brush through your hair. You grab your purse and remember your phone this time, throwing it into the clutch with the club card and some cash. Everything was completed so quick, your mind didn’t have time to process anything until you blankly stood in the doorway, waiting to move again.

You’re really going to do this. You haven’t been to a club in…well you never went to a club. Back in the days, you heard about Mina and Jimin going to clubs together; she would joke about how she’s there to keep an eye on Jimin – make certain he’s not flirting with some other girls. How ironic. Shaking, you slowly turn the door knob in your vacant apartment, opening the door and cringing at the loud creek. Take a deep breath you tell yourself, before you’re leaving out the door in a quick paced motion, only one thought swimming across your mind.

You deserve better

You know how they say some places feel like a whole different world? Well yeah, this is what they were referring to. The dark neon lights moving about like lasers, the overly loud, heart pounding music; and so many warm, wet bodies suffocating your presence. So this is what a club is, you gather. Taking in the loud electronic drums pumping in your head, you almost couldn’t think straight. Everything was large and spread out, yet you still felt overcrowded and overwhelmed. Shuffling on your feet, you stood there awkwardly by the bar staring at one of the bar stools. The thought of casually walking up and sitting down was causing you unease.

Eventually, you gathered the nerve to do so. Looking around, you weren’t sure what you were so worried for, no one seemed to have said anything. There was really not much to do but glance about. The bar tender seemed busy with other customers. Quite young-looking girls, which made you a tad iffy. By the way the man was eyeing them, he also thought they looked too young to be in here. You looked away once he asked them for an I.D., and a man next to them laughed loudly, telling him to let the girls have fun.

The booths were situated across the room from you, and you heard a lot of bottles popping and celebratory shouts from their direction making you smile. There was a second balcony floor above the booths. A lot of people were there as well, but the atmosphere felt more serious up there…more fancy. On the first floor, right behind the bar was the dance floor where more than half the crowd was located. Some of the dances made you blush and turn away…it was astonishing that’d they do those certain movements in front of so many spectators. You couldn’t even imagine doing these things with Jimin alone…although maybe you kind of wanted to. Not having the courage to look at the couple practically humping a few feet from you, you decided to just observe your lap.

You spot your wedding ring reflecting off the neon green laser lights. A gold band around your finger, delicately engraved with Jimin’s name. It had a large diamond, shaped like a heart as the centerpiece. Again, you’re reminded of the enigma that is Park Jimin. There was no way you could escape him, even here, everyone’s favorite place to hide from the world for a night or two. He basically owned you, body and soul– refusing to hand it back over no matter how much you wordlessly pleaded.

It infuriated you.

Hesitant at first, you move your hand to carefully slide off the ring. Strange, you think holding it up to the lights of the bar in front of you. You thought it’d make you feel worse, but no…it was liberating? Tonight, there’s not much you want to think about…especially not your feelings. Tonight, you want to run away with the outcasted mass, reflect about nothing as you passage through space and time continuum without having to live it. So, without giving it another thought, you open up your clutch and throw the ring inside.

And so, you sat, tapping at your thighs through the see-through satin of the bottom of your dress.

“Hey there, sweesh cheeks” A guy’s gaudy voice shouts in your direction over the music. It’s him, the man laughing at those girls from before. He’s moved closer. “Never seen you before? *Hic* What brings you around here, huhsh?”

You weren’t one to judge someone at first glance, but he had the most obnoxious smell coming from him, which made you stay mute if not a bit disgusted. He had long greasy hair, tied in a ponytail and the beginnings of a patchy beard. It looked like he hadn’t showered in days.

“I’m Daniel by the way” he shoots you a wink

He wore a cross pendant around his neckline, earrings decorating both of his ears. He tried to faintly move closer to you, his scent neighboring you. The last thing you wanted to do was be impolite, but the man was slimy, smelling of mold and cheap, over the top body spray. Alcohol littered his breath and his pupils were a bit off. As he sits down next to you – too close for comfort – you subtly turn your head away, not wanting another whiff of him. You were honestly regretting ever setting foot outside your house.

“Heeeeyyyy” He moves his face even closer to you making you scrunch your nose and slightly move off the bar stool. Daniel takes notice to that and doesn’t seemed too pleased about it. It was then that he grabs your arm and starts raising his voice, “Don’t be sush a bish, I’m jush trying to talk,” he slurs

You try to pull your arm away but he just pulls it tighter “Stop…go away” you say to him, trying to sound courageous but your voice failing you miserably. He smirks at your frightened behavior and you want to throw up. Before he could do anything else you watch as he gets pulled away from you and off of the bar stool next to you as a woman starts screaming in his face

“She told you to stop, didn’t she? Scram you little shit”

She throws him towards the right, where he loses his balance and trips on his own leg. Scrambling to get up, he runs away into the dancing mob. The woman takes a seat next to you after scooting the stool away from your side. She doesn’t bother to look at you as she shouts for a shot. In retrospect, you gape at her in awe; from her short stature to her elongated plastic nails and high pony tail all held together by her tight blue dress. When she catches you gawking at her she raises a brow,

“Is there a problem?”

“N-o No!” You say, flustered at her actually speaking to you, “Thank you for what you did”

“Don’t worry about it. The guy was a creep, he had it coming” The bartender places a shot in front of her which she immediately downs and begins fishing through her purse.

When you notice she was taking out cash to pay, you intervene “It’s on me!” You shout quickly grabbing a 10 from your purse

“Hey, you don’t have to –

“It’s alright. Thanks again” You smile as you put out the bill for her. She pauses for a second and just stares at you, making you slightly nervous.

“What’s your name?” She asks, giving you a once over

“___” You answer back, cowering a bit under her gaze

“Well ___,” She smiles, “I’m Irene, me and my girls are in that booth over there, care to join us?”

It was as if someone turned back time to your high school days. In all your years of living, no one had asked you to join them except Jimin. Now that it happened, here you were about to ruin it by looking like a fish out of the water. Your nerves are on high, and you feel yourself getting extremely warm as she continues to stare at you, a bit confused by your silence. By the adrenaline running through you from the sudden events and Jimin flashing through your mind; there was only one answer lingering your lips. An answer that surprised even you.

“Yes”

The night goes by in a blur

One second you were being pulled into a booth with extremely pretty young ladies, and they’re introducing themselves. Joy, Chae, Riri …some other people you don’t recall. Everyone was so nice, and they were really loud…but in a fun way. You hated noise, but their shouting and laughing was heartening for some reason. It matched with the vibe of the vibrant club. Suddenly you were chugging the bottle someone had pushed into your hand. All you’ve ever had were some wines and rose’s with Jimin, and now you’re unexpectedly gulping down a bottle of Bacardi. Cheers surround you the more you drink, the lighter your head feels, the freer your body moves. Nothing was registering in your mind, which concerned you a bit because you always had control over what you did – over all your movements.

You’re sure you were pushed onto the dance floor…or were you? Wait, you couldn’t dance, you were gonna embarrass yourself! But your worries seemed so trivial while you watched all the carefree figures around you; you decided to follow the other girls, observing their fluid movements and becoming encouraged. You swung your hips and spun around the dance floor to whatever noise was blaring through the speakers, permitting it to take control of your body.

Someone crashed into you on what you thought was an accident, until their hands found a way to your hips and they pulled you unto their sturdy chest. They grind themselves on you, and you’re too drunk to care letting them sway you how they want. Your hair was sticking to your forehead and you plop your head back onto their shoulder. It’s been so long since you had this much riveting human contact. They were warming you up, you could feel the flexing muscles in their arms smothering you and they had such a pleasant incense…like honey. Goosebumps rise onto your skin.

“You smeelll…soo nicee” You giggle in a slurred speech as you feel them breathe into your ear

“You’re so fucking sexy babe,” You moan at their deep voice, something inside you stirring at their foul language as he tightens his hold on your waist. Then there are even more gaps in your memory, but you remember being reluctantly pulled away as Irene dragged you away to the entrance. She asks for your address a few times as you mumble in your drunken state and then she throws you in a cab.

“Get home safe, I’ll call you” Was the last thing you heard her say before the driver pulls away from the club.

Now you’re inside your complex’s hallway, trying to find your apartment door. You’re wobbling around in your heels – trying to find your flat number – humming a loud song you didn’t know you knew. When you find what seemed like the right number, you cheer and run up to it, jumping in place as you get your keys from your clutch. The last thing you remember was opening the door of your apartment and being greeted by Jimin’s angry face.

Your eyes flutter open. You stare at a spotty white ceiling while you adjust to the light of the familiar room. There was a strange numbness in your body making you feel on edge while you try to fully grasp your consciousness. Slowly you sit up using your arms, immediately regretting it as a strike of pain shoots inside your head. Hissing you grab onto your forehead and bend your body forward, resting your elbows on your thighs. You felt terribly sick.

“Fun night?” A voice suddenly cuts through the room

You look up and see Jimin standing a few feet away from the bed with his arms crossed. His eyebrows were furrowed and his lips curled down in a prominent frown. You didn’t quite register what he said so you just let out a small ‘huh?’

“I said it looks like you had fun last night, seeing how you were out till 3 in the morning”

3? Wait…you left at 10 pm…so five hours? You were out for five hours!? How is that possible. God, you never leave the house and the one time you do, you can’t even properly account for the time. You didn’t have any second to reminisce about last night’s events as Jimin burns a hole through you, not noticing that you’re as shocked as he was. He couldn’t put it into words how mortified he is…he’s known you for 8 years and you NEVER came home late from an unknown place; drunk and untamed. How could someone just change like that? You’ve been acting weird ever since the day he came home to find you soaked. Going out to unknown places, coming home later than him. With another man’s cologne lingering your body. He tightens his fists.

“I called you fifty times…did you forget your phone again?”

You take note of the irritation in his voice which has a flame of rage opening inside you. Instead you opt to search for your clutch. Finding it on the dresser next to you, you take out your phone and open it to see 14 missed calls – making you wince.

“Sorry, my bag wasn’t around me” You mutter, running your hands through your messy hair. You were still wearing yesterdays clothes and you felt icky, and you needed to shower so you throw the cover off of you and get ready to get up

“Where were you?” He questions

There it was, that tone in his voice again. You look up to see him glaring at you, so you glare back

“Why do you care?” You spit, “Did I ask where you were?”

He’s startled by your behavior and decreases his heavy stance. You get off the bed and push your way past him without another glance as he stands there questioning himself of what just happened.

Could she…no…it couldn’t be…

He then stares at your clutch haphazardly thrown on the bed. Maybe, he thinks, there are some answers in there.

The following Monday you decide to start work again. Calling your boss to notify her, who was elated at your return. You sit at your desk completing a spreadsheet, a tiny feeling of contentment in your bones. Since Saturday, Irene has called you to ask if you got home in one piece. One thing led to another and you ended up having dinner at her house. Good thing too, since you knew Jimin wouldn’t be home so you would have just skipped eating again. She was a year older than you, single and very proud of so and worked real estate.

Irene could tell straight away that you weren’t the clubbing type. As if the way you responded to the rude man wasn’t enough, you made her worry by stumbling across the dance floor like a fawn. Or as she put it so kindly, easy prey. She invited you over because she wanted you to loosen up, not knowing how effortlessly impressionable you’d end up being. She explained to you that she thought you were originally from a more rural area, like she was. When she first moved into the city, she was also quite naive to the boisterous and progressive city ways. You didn’t know how to tell her you’d been living in big cities your whole life…you just…don’t get out much. Either way, you were immensely grateful she had watched over you and sent you home.

The night’s events to you are in complete distortion – turns out your brain was not prepared for such a large consumption of alcohol in an hour. Irene tells you things that you have absolutely no recollection of that has you hiding your face behind your fingers. Apparently, you tried to tear off your clothes because they were too warm? You kept singing a sad love song out loud on the dance floor? Also, you were shamelessly grinding on the hottest guy she’s ever seen? There was no way you did any of that…is there? If there was, then there’s no way you’re going back there again…and that was okay with you. At least one good thing came out of it.

It made no sense to you, but somehow you think she wanted to be your friend. Why would a fun, amazing person like her want to be your friend? You were on edge the whole time at her apartment, thinking there was a catch coming and she was about to laugh in your face. But the only laughing she did was after making cheesy jokes as she set down Risotto in front of you. Funnily enough you laughed along…you forgot you could do that recently. The Risotto was also the best you had in a long time, and you were blown away by her cooking skills. It was as if food had become tasteless in the past month.

After 26 years, you finally have someone to call a friend.

As you type in the last set of numbers on your spreadsheet, you smile. After work you agreed to grab pizza together and you felt like an excited kid going to a sleep over. Maybe you should drop by the rooftop again tonight, you’ve been wanting to thank Yoongi for finding you a friend…and you also really want to see him again, for some reason. You were tapping your foot amongst the floor and whistling to yourself when you heard a knock on the door.

“Come in” you singsong. Yura steps into your office and hands you a printout you ordered.

“Ma’am” She calls you who’s examining the client memo, making you respond with a ‘hmm,’ “Is it alright if I leave early today? My therapist ran into a small problem and now my appointment is an hour earlier”

You immediately stop reading the paper and look up at her in surprise.

“Is everything alright?” You question carefully. Had you missed out on so much? But Yura looks as fine as usual…why would she need a therapist?

To your surprise she lets out a chuckle at your shocked face “Yes, I’m fine. I’ve had a therapist for a few years now, It’s nothing new”

“Oh...” You recoil, “I’m sorry I didn’t know”

“It’s alright, it’s sort of an open secret,” She says cheerily, as if she was expecting your reaction

“You can leave early” You smile, awkwardly trying to get back to what you were doing

“Thank you” she says walking towards the door. As she’s about to pull it open, she spins to face you, “Umm…You know Ma’am…” She starts making you look up at her

“I usually don’t get the best reactions when I tell people I’m in therapy but in honesty, therapy isn’t a bad word.”

“I know” You smile at her, you hope she didn’t think you had any prejudice against her because of so

“Then would you get offended if I told you that you should find a therapist”

At her words a hint of exasperation builds up on you. What did she mean by that? You’re about to open your mouth and tell her off when you realize that this is exactly what she was talking about. You just told her that it’s okay to be in therapy, but get mad when she recommends something that’s been helping her to you? Humans are so hypocritical aren’t they. Like how they say they’ll love you forever and then go find comfort in someone else; or how they say they understand, when clearly, they have so much to learn. You look away, ashamed

As if knowing exactly what you were thinking, she sighs “Thought so…My own parents” She pauses, looking at the floor with a hint of sadness, “They tell people that I haven’t been the same since grandma passed away, or try to make other excuses for why I try and seek professional help. I guess they desperately want to make me look like a sane person in front of people,”

“Yura…” You feel something caught in your throat. She’d been your secretary for 2 years now and you didn’t know the first thing about her.

“And it’s true” She meets your eyes again, “That I was really sad when my grandma died, I was really so reckless, and I wanted help. But that’s not what therapy is all about. Even though now, my life is back in shape, I have an amazing boyfriend, a wonderful job, and a great boss” She beams at you as you hide a blush,

“I need someone to talk to sometimes…someone to just listen to me rant without judgement and help get my thoughts in order. It helps me process my emotions in a heathy, productive manner and I’m glad I’m in therapy trying to better myself, rather than hiding behind a fake mask of strength, pretending that everything is – and always will be alright. Or thinking that being tough means holding the whole world on your shoulders by yourself for some reason. Sometimes everything will not be aright and the world won’t fit in your shoulders and that’s fine…I’ll learn to deal with, the best way I can…my therapist and I.” She walks up to your desk and puts down a folded piece of paper, and walks back to the door.

She takes a breath, it felt like she just took a huge burden off her shoulder by telling you this, “Ma’am…you work harder than anyone in this building, all my coworkers talk about it all the time, we all admire you”

Staring at her in shock, you have to force yourself to blink so you don’t come off as crazy. You always assumed your colleagues at the company thought of you as an overworking recluse, you never could’ve imagined anyone but your boss appreciating you, much less admiring.

“I’m recommending her to you because I know you stress about your job often. I’m right in the next room and the doors are literally made of glass,” She chuckles. “She’s great and you deserve the best. Please give her a call if you have time and thank you again for letting me leave early”

With that she walks out of your office and leaves you alone with your thoughts.

You stare at the piece of paper on your desk for a moment, before reaching over and picking it up. When you unfold it, you find a name and number written in black ink. It seemed sort of crumpled, and old and it makes you wonder if she’s been holding onto this for a while. The see-through door in your office gave anyone outside a pretty clear view of you at your desk. She probably saw you running your hands through your hair, frowning and huffing and wanted to help you out. But she was mistaken about one thing. It wasn’t because of work that you were stressed…it was because of your husband, Park Jimin…and you don’t know if you’re ready to talk to anyone about something so private – so dear to you yet. Huffing, you shove the number into your purse and turn back to the memo to continue reading.

It was Jimin’s day off today, and you were surprised to wake up see him lounging at home. Half of you thought you were still dreaming. You stare at him lying on the couch in his sweats from your bedroom’s doorway, wondering why he didn’t leave to hang out with ‘Jin’ already. He did come home pissed yesterday…that might have something to do with this. Did he have a fight with his mistress perhaps? Jimin looks up from the book he was reading and gives you a smile that has you weak in the knees.

“Awake sleepyhead?”

“Why’re you here?” The words fall out faster than you could stop them. You see him frown at your reaction.

“Can’t I be at my own house?”

“…You usually aren’t,” You mutter as he squints his eyes to see if he heard you correctly. Not waiting for a response, you immediately head to the kitchen to grab yourself a cup of coffee. Pouring the black brew into your baby blue mug; you sniff the rejuvenating scent and let the warmth of the cup spread through your palms, resting in your joints. Smiling to yourself, you turn around to grab some creamer and end up almost dropping the mug out of your hands in shock.

Jimin had swiftly moved from the living room to stand behind you, quietly watching you like a hawk. His presence oddly threatening.

“Yes?” You question him, strangely uncomfortable at his penetrating gaze. Hand in his pockets, he moves closer to you as you move back, becoming trapped between him and the stove.

“What’s up with you these days?” He asks, voice barely above a whisper

“W-what do you m-mean?”

“Is there something you’re not telling me?”

What? Isn’t that what you should be asking? Your face morphs into confusion at his accusatory tone.

“W…hat?”

“Where’s your ring?”

Pointing at your hand he narrows his eyes at you. You give him a weird face with your mouth agape before registering what he just said, which makes you hold up your hand to inspect it.

“…”

“So, where is it?” He crosses his arms warily

You rack through your brain, trying to recall where you put it or when you lost it. How long have you gone without noticing? You open and close your mouth a few times, trying to find an answer through your faulty memories. Just then Jimin reaches into his sweat’s pocket an pulls out the golden, diamond studded jewel, holding it up a few inches from his face.

“Where did yo-”

“I found it,” He practically growls, “In your clutch from Saturday night, remember that?”

“What were you doing going through my stuff?! I don’t recall going through your things even afte-” You yell defensively.

But he ignores you and pulls out something else from his sweats, “And what’s this, huh? Why’re you going to cypher road of all places without telling me?! Coming back at 3 in the morning?! Who was the guy with the nice cologne by the way?!”

It was the card Yoongi gave you.

It’s not that you and Jimin hadn’t had fights before – just like any other married couple, you did. Usually it ended with you conceding, meekly apologizing before things got too out of hand. So, when your ears turn fiery red and you feel yourself apply pressure to your teeth and clench your fists, you receive a crashing realization. The first time in ages he concerns himself with your whereabouts, and it’s only to accuse you of something so revolting? Blame your flare of anger on the only sip of coffee you had and the stingy fresh morning air. Blame it on Jimin himself never feeling the need to tell you where he was headed – not the truth anyway.

“IT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU!”

…

There was a deafening silence that followed your outburst as your husband stood there stunned. He took a step back, he’s not sure why…you weren’t in any way a threat to Park Jimin…were you? His shy, small wife would never raise her voice at him. Would never make him feel that he was the one in the wrong.

You let out a shaky exhale, loosening your grip on the mug and setting it on the marble top. You run a hand through your hair in frustration, securing it above your temple.

“For years…I had no one. You knew that…and you told me it was okay – that you’d be my everything” Closing your eyes, you try to process your thoughts rationally, “Yet you went out…You continued to move forward with the world, and I was constantly left behind. And I said it was okay – I made excuses to myself that you were the more outgoing one, that it was only natural – that it was okay that you went to clubs and missed dinner dates and forgot my birthday. But in reality, I was lonely Jimin…Always.”

“Did you ever even notice? Or were you too busy celebrating the fact that your wife would destroy herself from the inside out, just for you?”

It took everything within you to make your words comprehensible. You were struggling to hold back tears looking at him. His face seemed worried and upset, but maybe it could just be an act you tell yourself. It’s not like you actually knew Jimin now did you? It wasn’t that you were proud of what you did that night, no one should be coming home drunk at 3 AM, it’s dangerous and unhealthy. But did he ever think that if he were at home, maybe you wouldn’t have gone to an unknown location in the first place? If he were at home, maybe he could have gone with you and brought you home like a husband does? You wouldn’t have had to stumble back drunk if it wasn’t for him. He didn’t know anything about you, no matter how much he acted like he did.

“I don’t think you’ve ever noticed…or cared. So, excuse me if I do the same.”

Snatching the ring from him you shove it back on to your finger in front of his face.

“There, happy now?”

When he doesn’t say anything you clear your throat, picking up your mug, “For the record, I’m not doing anything unfaithful. I’m not-”

You.

Stopping yourself from finishing that sentence, you take a deep breath and walking past him. You didn’t wait for his response, if he has any, not wanting to stand in the suffocating atmosphere of the kitchen any longer. Before leaving the kitchen, you shout back over your shoulder,

“I’m going out today, I need to meet a friend”

You take off before he can give you an answer.

“Then we can add the caption over in this section”

Jimin watches you while you work through the graphic of the presentation, already having zoned out from what you were saying a long time ago. It’s funny to him how interesting he started to find you this past week. When his professor first told him you were his partner, he thought the man was mistaken, having never even heard of your name in class. That was rare for him, the most beloved guy in college, friends with literally anyone that breathed. Even the campus’ squirrels adored him.

From then on it was routine. Walking up to you, giving his ‘angelic’ smile, watching you fall for him hard. Contrary to what most edgy Hollywood films might tell you, popularity is actually an amazing feeling. He loved having people whipped for him, how their eyes lit up when he entered a room, how he could take their breath away by simply running his fingers through his hair.

He treasured this power.

A certain part he noticed about his social circle was their need to become important in his life. They wanted to be noticed by him, they wanted his recognition, they wanted to be his special someone. And it made him laugh really, I mean he was flattered but it was also a bit pathetic. They’d try many things; playing hard to get, seducing him into bed, even stalking him around campus. He felt sad for such folks, imagine having such futile ambition.

Then again, it was as if there was a silent understanding amongst most people. Jimin couldn’t be theirs, which definitely means he couldn’t be anyone else’s. They were satisfied because it wasn’t just them and their miserable shortcomings, but rather Jimin who didn’t want to belong to anyone. And who wouldn’t respect precious Jimin’s wishes? How hilarious, he wanted to sneer at them for even thinking they could know anything about him.

Jimin never felt guilty for feeling this way, it’s not like he was hurting anyone’s emotional state by being a disrespectful person. He never begged for the attention, never forced anyone to love him, it wasn’t on him if they couldn’t discern rationality. It was a give and take relationship after all; people gave him the attention he desired, and he gave people a sense of superiority just by being connected to him.

But you were different somehow. It was obvious you liked him right when he came up to you, the expression on your face was nothing short of a deer in headlights. Yet the more time he spent with you, the more you just…worked. Normal people might not think anything of it, pass you off as some hard-working nerd that would get them a good grade, but to him it was bewildering. You just didn’t care about his attention, you didn’t ask him for more than you had to, and you never even looked his way in class.

He didn’t think you were faking it, you didn’t look like the type of girl, one he’s encountered many times before. No one in his circle or even outside of it seemed to know of your existence. The stuff he cherished – held onto dearly, none of it appeared to matter to you. Large amounts of friends, dedicated followers worshipping the ground he walked on, not even your parent’s unconditional love. Such peculiar behavior intrigued him into studying you. It almost felt like you’d rather live in the shadows. A concept so foreign and bizarre to him.

A certain desire invoked in him that day, observing you who was ranting apologies about an error you made in the screen. It was as if the weight of the world shifted, a sudden awareness on his surroundings – on you. For the past week you both have been working together, he’s been nice and cooperative as he usually is. There’s a semblance of distance in the form of an invisible line, both based on the terms of unfamiliarity and politeness.

However…what if he were to cross that line and give you the one thing so many individuals craved. The thing people have practically begged him for so long with their obsessive eyes, their inaudible whines as he leaves their presence, or when he as them pinned beneath him at his mercy. What if he were to give you what he knows some girls in his classes would kill each other over.

Scooching his chair closer to yours he rests his jaw in his palm. You stop talking and stare at him with wide eyes, he could see you gulp as he smiles your way. The nepenthes rafflesiana emit a honey scent to lure their prey. He sets his plan into action by tenderly blowing on a stray hair in your face, his expression morphing into one that should be kept only for the bedroom. Noticing the cause of his actions, you quickly remove the strand in a frenzy. Jimin giggles at your panic, and he notes that he’s genuinely laughing compared to the memorized charming laugh he has for most people.

Moving so that the tip of his nose was nearly touching your cheek he stretches his lips,

“You were saying?”

What if he were to give you his special attention?

“First of all, if I ever meet him, I’m going to cut off his ba-”

“Irene!” you shout, quickly cover her mouth with your palm. She huffs, removing the obstacle on her face with a deadpanned expression

“Secondly, I really don’t know why you’re still with him as far as I can tell, you seem to be completely over him”

You look down at the hardwood table below you, the curtains of your eyes strain in concentration. Irene sighs, knowing the expression on your face to be all too similar.

She had stumbled upon your secrets by accident one night. You were embarrassed yet overjoyed to say that you and her linking up had become routine. One evening, you were at her place cooking together and you ended up burning your thumb. All she did was fret over you and dip your finger under cool running water and the next thing she knows the faucet isn’t the only thing leaking. Her small act of compassion made you burst into ugly, roaring tears. She was rightfully very freaked out, but also immensely worried. It was as if you hadn’t been shown any amount of human kindness in years. After spending minutes calming you down, she finally probed you enough for you to spill the beans.

Irene was beyond livid. You watched her jaw set with each word you spoke. Actually, you’re pretty sure she called him every name in the book and then some. The outburst was short-lived, and you were afraid it would make her act different towards you. But she didn’t, if anything, she was kinder than before. A sympathetic glint in her eyes each time you broke down.

Since then, she’s been your confidant anytime you feel the overwhelming urge of despair.

“You still love him?” she asks, quieter than before. Staying silent, you listen in on the small chatter and distance cars around you. You sat right outside of a vintage café. The weather was nice, the generous café offering a view of beautiful blue clematises draped along the margins of the stone building. Above you, stood the striped canopy connected to the establishment, allowing in the gentlest of the sun rays to glow up your rosy tea.

“I love him…I want him…”

“And why is that?”

“…Because I need him”

“For?”

“I don’t know…” You close your eyes in frustration. Frustration at your puzzling emotions.

“Well I do,” Irene takes a sip of her brew “You need him because you think he’s the only one who can love you and therefore make you feel whole”

You look up at her in surprise. Something about what she said resonated with you…how have you never noticed before?

“Listen,” Irene says, clacking down her cup, “I can’t tell you how to live your life or who to not love. But I can tell you the person you do need to start loving.”

She takes a moment to stare at you in your eyes, and you capture the sincerity in her irises. Heat rises up to your face, never having seen this much care in someone else for you. It made you tear up.

“Yourself”

“…Myself?”

“Yes, think about it. You worked hard in school because of your mom. You work hard at your job for your boss. And you worked hard in your relationship for Jimin. What have you ever done for yourself?”

Contemplating Irene’s words, you try to think. What had you done for yourself? You weren’t even sure you had a hobby…all of your interests were things Jimin seemed to fawn over.

…Who were you?

“All right, how about this. In your life, other than Jimin, is there something you like to do? Something that genuinely brings you joy, not because of another person, but just for yourself”

“I-”

Reminiscing through your dull past, you didn’t find anything but study books, grade marks and pencils. Lonely nights and lost dreams, a broken heart and repeated hesitance. Swallowed words, an indistinct confession of love, the sound of a keyboard, bitter coffee…and Jimin…and…

“Cooking”

“Hmm?”

“I like…” squinting your eyes, you reflect hard, “yeah…I like cooking.” You say smiling, proud of yourself for some reason.

“I like cooking”

Irene grins widely at you showing her perfect set of teeth, “I like cooking too. You know I always wanted to own my own restaur-”

But then her expression falls, and worry fills her eyes,

“Why are you crying?”

“Huh?” You bring your fingers up to meet with your wet cheeks. Confused and disoriented, you quickly grab the napkins on your table and wipe away your tears as Irene’s shocked face only turns worse, “Sorry, I – I don’t, I…”

Taking a deep breath, you speak up again, “I didn’t know I liked anything,” this time letting the tears of happiness fall on their own accord.

“Oh, honey,” Irene gets up from her chair and moves to your side, engulfing your upper body with her arms, “You deserve so much better”

There was that word again. You weren’t sure what it meant completely quite yet. Only a fragment of its definition registering into your head as the other half felt cover by a large sheet – a locked object waiting for you to find the key. Maybe unlocking the answer would take a bit more time, but you knew one thing for certain.

You were starting to believe it.

Barging into your home, you heave a sigh with your back against the front door. It was a long day and Irene’s impromptu shopping trip didn’t help. She made you pick up half the store’s items. Even going as far as to secretly purchase any item you felt insecure or shy about herself and stash it inside your bags. You couldn’t even count how many bags you were carrying, as well as the amount of ‘sexy’ dresses Irene made you buy. Honestly, you thought half of them were lingerie. Throwing off your heels you make your way into your bed room.

You fling the bags next to your bed and jump onto the springy mattress. It was so comforting, you almost moaned as the foam molded into the shape of your back. Your eyes were shut delicately, and you were about to fade away, which is why you didn’t hear the bare footsteps making their way across your floorboards and the slight dip on the edge of the bed.

“Baby?”

You flutter your eyes open at the familiar voice of your husband, turning your head to see him sitting by your side. He puts his hand over yours and squeezes it softly.

“Long day?” He asks cautiously

You nod wordlessly

Looking over at your bags he lets out a chuckle. “Looks like you had fun…” He looks back at you, “I’m glad.”

Smiling at him you hold his hand back, letting your freshly manicured nails kindly scratch his palm. You felt remorse for blowing up at him this morning. All you want to do with Jimin is have a normal conversation – confront him without acting so aggressively. Spewing irrational nonsense that would get your relationship nowhere. It’s the least you could do for someone you loved.

His hand starts moving along your arms slowly, then rests on your shoulder. He moves closer to you, until his face is hovering yours. Lips parted, his breath fans your face.

“It’s been a while” He says lowly, gradually leaning in further and further

He kisses you; tenderly at first, moving his hand up to cup your cheek. You let him in, not having tasted Jimin for far too long. Your tongues move in harmony, faces adjusting to get better angles inside the wet caverns. He moves his thumb along your cheek, his other hand travelling up your leg and you hum into his mouth. Shivers run up your skin as he rubs the inside of your thigh. It was when you accidently bite his tongue that he lets out a growl.

You recognized that sound.

It was the growl he made when he was fucking Tina.

Your eyes flash open in an instant, feeling like someone threw cold water all over you. His touches no longer causing butterflies, instead making the rising queasiness in your stomach worse. His scent was no longer soothing, and his tongue no longer welcomed.

“Mm-No-mm” You pry at his chest until he comes off you. Sitting up immediately, you wipe your lips, an uninvited sensation crawling over you. You stare at Jimin who’s breathing heavily. Flushed face and blown pupils, staring at you in surprise.

“What’s wrong?” He asks

“I…I don’t want this,” You say, still wiping at your mouth, trying to make the dreadful feeling go away. You feel small when he grunts and looks away from you, running a hand through his hair in irritation. He stays still for a moment, burning a hole into the ground as you bring your knees to your chest.

“Then what” You glance at him as he speaks, “What do you want”

Holding yourself tighter at his hardened stare, you try to talk. But you’re unable to form the actual words

“I-I…I don’t…I”

“WHAT DO YOU WANT?!” He screams making you flinch, getting up from your side. “WHAT IS IT, HUH? WHY DON’T YOU EVER SAY ANYTHING?”

“I don’t know!” You yell back upset, tears blurring your vision

Snarling in anger, he runs his palm over his face.

“So, you just take a month off of work, stop talking to me, start taking these damn sleeping pills, go out to places with people I never met, yell at me when I do show concern, and now you don’t want me to touch you?”

“At least tell me what’s going on, please, tell me what you want,” Coming up to your face, he pleads with you. His eyes appeared half crazed and exhausted, it frightened you. It reminded you of your own when he first started distancing himself from you.

It was surreal to you, watching him get angry at you treating him how he treats you. Should you have been this angry since the start? Would that have made him feel as guilty as you’re feeling right now? All these hypotheticals were starting to bore. You knew exactly what you wanted from Jimin, you were just scared of the consequences of voicing what you desired. At that moment however, none of those consequences mattered…

“I want you…to be honest…” Breaking your silence, you stare at him dead in the face

“…what?”

“Be honest Jimin…stop pretending with me all the fucking time.”

Jimin looks taken aback as he watches you, trying to decipher the meaning behind your words. You’ve always been difficult to read…always.

“You think…after spending eight years with you, you’d learn the decency to tell you me the truth. Have I ever asked you for anything else? It could be the least you could do for me. Isn’t it, Jimin?”

You wait for him to say something, pushing through the exhaustion of your soul. “Why did you do it, Jimin…why did you choose to do it…to me?”

Jimin is a smart man. He knows what you’re implying, knows what this could mean for him…for you. You know…you had caught him. It would finally explain so many things plaguing his mind. Yet at this point he’d rather not have answers at all. His suspicion was solidified by the discomfort under your eyes. So lost and broken, an incomplete passion.

He racks his brain to speak, to refute, but instead he stays mum and helpless. There seems to be an invisible line you both can’t cross – aren’t willing to cross. Strange really, how the world turns, just to come back to where it was. If the female grasshopper bites the head off the male grasshopper after mating…who’s to blame? The female for being so heartlessly cruel or the male, for knowingly falling so hard it led him to his own demise? Maybe neither. Maybe they were both just caught in their own fate, helplessly watching as the world was turning without their consent.

You both stay there, quietly staring at one another.

A loss for words doesn’t cover it, you both were purposely letting the time pass by with nothing to disturb the environment. It was as if you both – in that time frame – you both were simultaneously recollecting the same thing. The first meeting, the first date, the first kiss, the first time. That one afternoon when Jimin took you to the park and he ended up getting swarmed into a pond by whiteflies because of his lime green shirt and he told you he loved you for the first time when you pulled him out. Or when you bought him matching mochi keychains when he kept losing his keys, and he wore it on display everywhere even when his friends teased him.

How every time you cooked something, he wolfed it up giving you a million genuine compliments and it made your eyes shine like Christmas lights. He’d make sure to peck your face several times throughout the day and peck you more if you blush, his favorite color displayed on your cheeks. You’d pretend to sleep through your alarm, so he’d wake you up by whispering in your ear. He would save chocolate strawberries at parties, even when he was drunk, just so he could bring them home for you. Just small, trivial things that grow irreplaceable down the road.

When you had to deal with all of his absences without a complaint, as long as Jimin would still smile at you with his crescent shaped eyes in the mornings.

When there was a time Jimin realized that he couldn’t live without you, so he ran away without you knowing.

They wonder what their relationship would’ve been if they met at the right time; a better time. When the world stopped moving for them, so they could see the other in balance instead of motion. Therefore, never feeling like the other was fleeting.

But they never will, they met when they met and did what they did. Their sins were written in stone, never to be erased.

And that’s just the case with them.

Jimin turns and leaves without the room without another word. You lie back down on the mattress lifelessly, wishing for the day to be over.

#BTS #BTS angst #BTS fluff #BTS smut #Jimin angst #Jimin fluff #Jimin smut #R:CHTMD

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for-ests · 5 years ago

Text

Falling For You- Tom Holland x Reader (Part 2)

Part 1

Word count: 4, 073

Warnings: None

✭♡✭♡✭♡✭

Tom scanned the park for you, feeling his nerves grow with each passing moment. What will you think of him now? Did you still like him?

He sighed loudly as he watched the cars pass by. Your bewitching smile refused to leave his head.

He had been nervous all day, knowing that deep inside, he needed you more than ever. You were more beautiful than he remembered, your maturity radiant and refutable. How did he miss the potential you promised?

This date was impulsive. But Tom couldn't deny how long he'd been waiting to see you again. With how much he had missed you, the only cure was to try and mend things.

If only he had been more courageous back then. If only... if only.

He never got the chance to tell you how he felt back then. And now, the young man was starting to second guess himself. His heels began to ache from standing in an awkward position for too long, eyebrows narrowing as he wondered if you would appreciate what he had planned out.

Tom was too shy, too self-conscious. But thankfully, his trip to America had settled those conflicting thoughts. He was now a different person on the inside and the outside. More confident, physically, and mentally.

He had worked so hard to improve his acting skills; with hard work came success. He'd been working out regularly for months now, and his body was starting to sculpt into the complexion he'd always dreamed of having. Now, all that was missing was a woman by his side. Tom may have changed his appearance, but he was still the same softie his parents had raised him to be. He still cared for his home, his family, and his friends. That would never change, no matter how famous he got.

Just like his feelings for you. He had hoped and prayed they would go away in time, but they kept growing stronger. When he saw your face last night in the pub, it all came crashing down like a tidal wave.

He remembered your tenderhearted ways, how you had always been there for him even when he didn't deserve it. He was too childish to realize it then, but he was deeply in love with you and didn't know how to deal with it. Tom had not been ready, even if he desperately wanted to be.

He could tell the same realization happened to you. It was evident in your eyes, in your reserved yet hopeful body language, and in the slight blush that crept along your cheeks every time he uttered your name.

The passion was still there. It had to have been, or else you wouldn't have said yes.

Tom leaned against the chain-linked fence, glancing back every once in a while just to see if you had arrived.

He wanted to see you so badly. The anxiety was killing him. What if you didn't show up? The anxious boy grimaced. That would be reasonable. That's essentially what he did to you. He left without saying goodbye.

He felt so much better about himself now, but that didn't mean you would take him back. What if you secretly hated him? The romantic side of him that he had saved for you was just waiting to emerge, begging and grasping for attention.

It was starting to cloud his consciousness.

Tom exhaled deeply and scrolled through his Instagram feed, reading a few recent comments that fueled his ego. He had about 200k, which was good for an amateur actor who hadn't landed any starring roles. A small fan base was better than nothing, and all of this newfound attention was from his own hard work and dedication.

But he was getting there, his dream role was a few weeks away. That audition would mean everything, but for now, he needed someone to help take his mind off things. You were the perfect person to do so. The person who always did, back before all of this started. Even before he was able to pursue his dream. The thought of losing you permanently had always scared him, so much so that he wasn’t able to form a proper goodbye. One that caused all this pain to begin with.

Tom hadn't seen you in ages, and you looked better than ever. If he'd fancied you back then, he couldn't even imagine what he would do for you now. His heart began to beat faster at the thought. It was scary, as he realized he might possibly do anything.

"Tom?" Your voice snapped through the silence, everything else becoming mere background noise.

He lifted his head and almost melted right then and there.

Your hair drifted so peacefully in the evening breeze, seeming to light up the entire atmosphere. You smiled shyly at him and tucked a few strands of hair behind your ear. "What's up?" You greeted, sighing deeply as your breath misted into the air. Your cheeks were starting to redden from the chill, but you didn't seem to mind.

You looked just as nervous as him. Possibly distracted by your own thoughts.

Tom hadn't really thought it through when he asked if you wanted to take an evening walk. But when was London ever a comfortable temperature?

"I promise we won't be out in the cold too long." He chuckled, shoving his hands in his pockets from the brisk air. "I just wanted to take you one place."

Dismissing his statement, your eyes focused on his hands. You started to rummage through your purse. "Do you want mittens? I have an extra pair."

"S-sure." He said between shivers, graciously taking up on your offer. Tom took his hands out of his pockets and slipped the warm fabric on. "Thank you."

He's always appreciated how prepared you were. He knew you had prepared yourself for heartbreak, even if you did not show it. Only someone with a genuine and kind heart would be so bold. You were there to hear him out.

Because last night, even drunk, Tom could see the look in your eyes. There was a longing you held that he was unable to notice before.

"It's no problem." Your nose crinkled in the most adorable way as you smiled. "Now, we can hold hands."

The last part came out as a whisper as if you were unsure of your own rash actions. Regardless though, you followed through, grasping his hand tightly.

Without blatantly making your intentions known, he had gathered the hint. You were willing to try and make things right. That was all he could have asked for.

Tom noticed you had become surprisingly cheerful. Knowing you all too well, he understood that your cheerfulness was a way to protect yourself, a facade of sorts.

Embarrassed, Tom glanced away briefly. If he failed to win your heart back on this date, things between the two of you would no longer exist. The young man knew he couldn't deal with that. You were far too important.

"Ohhh." He laughed, intertwining his coated fingers with yours. "I'm the one who's supposed to make the moves, not you darling."

You leaned against him and tittered, feeling more confident with Tom's true intentions. You had already surpassed your high school awkwardness in less than five minutes. It had taken you and him three years to get this close back in the day.

But you were different, and so was he.

Breathing deeply, you discarded those thoughts. You glanced up, and the cold that had previously surrounded you disappeared when you looked into his eyes. "Where to?"

Tom squeezed your hand firmly, his entire body warming at the sight of you so content by his presence. "You'll see, I think you'll like it."

✭♡✭♡✭♡✭

You tried your best not to laugh as Tom guided you down the rocky and secluded path. You could hear each step you took, the snow crunching underneath your weight. The snow threatened to push over the hemlines of your socks, but you persisted farther.

To you, the entire situation was comical. The sun had begun to finally set, and you were slowly hiking through a forest with a man you had once known in grade school. A branch brushed against your jacket as Tom slowly but surely helped you through the forest.

You did not need the help but you knew how proper Tom was. And because of it, you were able to cling to him longer than necessary.

"Where in the world are you taking me?" You ventured to ask, already knowing he wouldn't give you the answer. You found this quite the adventure for a first date and reunion. The place he was leading you to seemed familiar, but in a way, you could not describe. The landscape had been cast into shadows, yet the atmosphere was one you found yourself resonating with. Nostalgic vibes from deep within your soul, masked under the guise between good and evil.

"Shh!" A deep chuckle followed shortly after you stepped over a fallen tree, it was hardly visible. "Almost there." He spoke without looking behind him. The two of you were completely alone, and that thought made you excited.

You were quiet after that, but your grin stayed constant- your true feelings unable to remain hidden. The little things he did made you feel special. Tom could make your heart flutter with just one glance.

Tom’s hat was covering the hair you adored, but his curls were poking out slightly. You wondered if he still hated them, even though all the girls used to swoon over his locks. Unbeknownst to him, you had engaged in that endless dialogue.

Keeping your eyes focused on the back of his head, you almost didn't realize that you had come to an opening. A large boulder was placed in the middle. It was big enough to seat a few people comfortably.

It took you a moment to remember its significance. But as soon as you did, a blush appeared on your cheeks. Tom thought it was adorable.

"The kissing rock?" You squeaked.

"You were my first kiss." He reminded, turning to you with a shy smile, reflecting on the more awkward moments of your relationship. Though sometimes unbearable to think about, bittersweet they remained.

You blushed at the memory. You both had your first kisses with each other one night when you and all your friends decided to play seven minutes in heaven. A freshmen year hangout circle that sometimes pressured you to partake in activities you wouldn't typically have.

At fifteen years old, your heart began to pound loudly in your chest. Watching the lone beer bottle land on your best friend and crush caused your eyes to go wide. Admittingly, you had hoped that you might be able to kiss him, but now that it was happening, your anxiety spiraled until you were unable to move.

"Uhm-i-" You stuttered, open-mouthed. You were only brought back to reality by a flood of teasing and laughter. Your girlfriends knew how infatuated you were with him. Yet they also knew how shy you were. An interaction like this would never happen in any other scenario.

Your best friend cheered you on with a smirk of approval.

"Let's go then." Tom eagerly stood up, watching your cheeks grow noticeably red. He tried to usher you into the room and away from the gaze of all your so-called friends.

Once the closet door closed, you exhaled roughly. You'd never kissed anyone before, and Tom knew that. What if he was grossed out by you in this way? Would you be able to keep your mouth shut?

"Well, my friends say you have a crush on me." He whispered, leaning as nonchalantly against the wall as he could. Even through your own sheepishness, you could sense his nerves. "So we can kiss if you'd like to."

An excellent proposal indeed, but the fact of any boy being aware of your true feelings sent your sense into a frenzy. How could they possibly know you were in love with your best friend?

"If you want to." You bit your lip, glancing away.

A short, goofy, and inexperienced Tommy spoke under his breath. "I've always wanted to."

"Okay." You said, sitting up a little straighter. You didn't know what else to do. Weren't the guys supposed to lean in? Were you supposed to keep your eyes open?

Tom moved towards you, testing the waters by setting one hand on your shoulder and tucking the other by the low of your back. His touch was shocking in this way, and your teenage brain was desperately trying to sort through the motions.

Naturally, and almost perfectly, he leaned in. Your lips touched hesitantly at first but then pressed hard once the two of you were able to kiss with closed eyes. You gripped him suddenly as the kiss escalated. You weren't ready for that, though part of you wanted to continue.

"Someone might see, Tommy."

Tom pulled away, trying hard not to grin.

"Then, we pretended like nothing happened."

"Yeah." He scratched the back of his neck, awkwardly. "Then you started dating Jerry."

"Fucking Jerry." You chuckled heartily. "What a bloke."

"Yeah." He smiled, biting his lip as he noticed your anxious expression. You didn't seem to be as excited as he thought you would be. Maybe you didn't have any good memories here? Tom pondered on your high school relationships. He'd never kissed anyone here back in the day, but he had heard great things from his mates.

Most serious couples in your high school had kissed here after school. It might be cheesy, but he wanted to kiss you here. He always had. If you shared terrible memories with this place, he wanted to try and make a good one.

Tom thought that making this relation would cheer you up. Nostalgia was a fitting cure when times were low, especially when you had been away from home for years.

"Follow me." He urged, taking your hand in his, and pulling you towards the rock.

Your hesitation soon faded as your hands intertwined again. This wasn't what happened back then. It was different, Tom was here with you, and you were adults now.

Smirking to yourself, you shook your head. You two were alone, you were adults, and you had feelings for each other. Right? So why were you so afraid?

Taking this leap would mean there was no turning back. Whatever happened tonight would determine your entire relationship with him.

“Y/N?” He chuckled, waving his hand in your face. You had zoned out for a moment.

“Sorry,” You laughed with him, smacking his hand away from your face in a teasing manner.

Tom helped you climb up the boulder, his hands resting firmly on your waist to hoist you up. You blushed at the contact, knowing he was gripping lower than he needed to. Chills were sent up your spine as his warmth moved elsewhere.

Once you had gotten on top of the rock, you turned around to give him support, only to find he was already sitting next to you. You rolled your eyes, shaking your head lightly. "I see you're more athletic now."

He scooted next to you, a cheeky grin upon his lips. "I'm only trying to show off, you know that, right?"

Your eyes darted in the opposite direction, trying to keep your eyes focused on the long stretch of forest. Tom was much more blunt, much more confident. The old Tom would have never been so straightforward. And as much as it embarrassed you, you loved it.

You turned back to him once the burning sensation in your stomach died down. "You're going to have to do more than that." You teased, becoming aware of how close you were. His lips were just inches away, and he was starting to seem irresistible.

Tom noticed it too. His urges growing stronger as he watched your tongue run smoothly across your lips. The action made them glossy and far more kissable. Were you waiting for him to do it?

After a moment of searching for an answer in your expression, he started to lean in. He closed his eyes and went for the kiss. Tom could feel his heart racing, he had wanted to do this so badly, and it needed to be perfect. He had to make up for the years he had failed to make you his. Maybe it was for the best, but the time you had spent apart had only caused both of you pain.

If that was not a sign, Tom couldn't fathom what would be. Everything about you felt right. Everything about you, he loved. It was about time he was brave enough to come forth and admit it.

And perfect it was. As soon as your lips touched, he felt his emotions ignite in a peaceful yet passionate blaze that he had never felt before.

You shivered from the contact, knowing that if you were standing, your knees would have buckled. Being there with him, like that, was everything you had ever dreamed it would be.

You kissed him back, deepening the kiss and asking for more. You were in love with him, and he didn't even know it. Maybe this was your last chance to show him, perhaps this moment with him was all you had left.

"Tommy--" You gasped against his lips, literally melting into his warm embrace. His hand brushed against your cheek, guiding you closer with a gentle touch. The second kiss was wet, much sloppier than the first. Your emotions were poured into every movement, your skin aflame and senses alive.

More. I need more.

The way you moaned his name encouraged him to take a step forward and pull you closer. He had waited so long to do this, and he never thought he would be able to. That's why this was so special. He was getting a second chance with the love of his life.

The kisses intensified, and your lips parted, inviting him for more. Practically begging for it.

Your lips began to move in sync, the kisses turning sloppy, filling with hunger and need from all the time you had spent apart. From all the years of denying your love.

Tom's hands began to wander, feeling you up and down from all the angles you had always imagined he would explore. You let him readily, relishing in his praise, becoming drunk on the sensation his lips gave you. You wanted more, you needed more.

You held his face in your mitten-covered hands, kissing him tenderly as you moved to sit on his lap. The contact caused Tom to groan, his arms looping around your waist and holding you as close as he could through the thick clothes you were wearing.

He wanted to feel your skin against his. He knew this wasn't enough to satisfy the passion building up inside him. You were too tempting and always had been. Tom knew you were innocent, and that's what made you so much more alluring. You were waiting to become his, and now was finally the right time.

The two of you pulled apart briefly to catch your breath. Tom tilted his head back to gaze at you. Your cheeks were flushed, but it might of been from the cold. Your expression was sheepish, but not ashamed. And your eyes... man, your eyes seemed to promise him treasures he could only dream of.

"I've been waiting so long to do that." Tom managed to string together a full sentence. It was true, and he has been repeating that to himself for the past two years.

You hastily glanced away. "M-me too." You whispered, acting as if you still did not believe it happened.

Wishing for it to continue, but knowing you had to stop before things got too heated, you crawled off his lap and sighed. You couldn't stop smiling.

"I really fancy you." Tom blurted, eyes widening at the realization of what he said. "If you couldn't tell..." He added, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. That's what he did in embarrassing situations.

"I figured that out when I saw the rock." You blushed. "I remember you saying that you wanted to bring your future girlfriend here."

He couldn't believe you would remember something like that. It made him feel warm inside, a fluffy, and respectful kind. That must mean that you felt the same, or at least you did. It made him sad to think that you liked him back in high school. Hearing him say something like that must have broken your heart.

"I guess that wish came true," Tom said.

Your eyes widened. What did that mean?

"I want to be with you, Y/N." He whispered, all the presumptions of his youth fading away with just one sentence. Now, he seemed like a man. A man who was able to admit, and make sense of his decade-long feelings.

You could not find the words to speak, your mind analyzing all the possibilities of what that could mean.

"I really hope you know how sorry I am for leaving you." The words came out in a flood, and Tom's composure crumbled in front of your eyes. "When I saw you yesterday, I realized how much I hurt you. You don't deserve that Y/N." He took a deep, shaky breath. "I hope you can give me another chance to make things right... and to possibly be more than friends."

You were deeply pained from his tone and the way his voice faltered when thinking of the past.

"Tommy, it's okay. I understand." You smiled sadly, wrapping your arms back around the boy. You didn't want him to feel bad about it. Though both of you had suffered, there was no going back to fix it. The time apart, though excruciating on bad terms, helped bring you back together. Being away from him for the first time, helped you realize how special he really was to you. He wasn't just your best friend. He was not just a crush. He was the love of your life.

Tilting your head, you pressed a chaste kiss to his chilled cheeks.

It's not like you had confessed to him before, or made your feelings known. You were both oblivious about your feelings. But why did he leave without saying goodbye all those years ago?

Tom could tell what you were thinking by the grief-stricken look on your face.

"I left without saying goodbye because I knew I couldn't face you. I was afraid to confirm my love for you, Y/N..." He hugged you back, burying his head in the crook of your neck. You smelled as amazing as he remembered, your warmth engulfing him in comfort no other woman could. You were what he had always been craving, and you were always right in front of him.

"Love?" You whispered astonishingly, picking up on the word as he breathed its existence.

Tom pulled away, nodding slowly.

"You love me?" You gasped, tears starting to gather at your eyelids. The fear of your feelings blossoming further in a one-sided relationship faded. It was going to be okay.

"I love you." He confirmed, all his nerves vanishing as your expression beamed brightly back at him. For a moment, silence consumed you. Before you could think further, tears gathered in the corners of your eyes. Reaching your sleeve up, you quickly wiped them away.

"I love you too." You choked out, the words feeling so good on your lips. So right to say and express. "I always have..." You admitted, eyes flickering away as you said it. "I was too afraid to tell you, and it killed me."

"But I'm here now, I've realized my mistake," Tom assured, pulling you into his chest and squeezing you tight. He couldn't believe how stupid he was back then to leave someone like you behind. You were meant to be together, you had to be. There had never been anyone else that had come close.

He wasn't going to let you slip away again.

"Come back to my place," Tom commanded more than he asked. The cold was starting to become unbearable, now that the passionate heat that sparked between you had calmed.

"I want to show you how much you really mean to me."

#tom holland x reader #peter parker x reader #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #tom holland

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lokisgame · 5 years ago

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A Generous Donation [13]

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6] [part 7] [part 8] [part 9] [part 10] [part 11] [part 12]

Friday morning was kinder. Mulder's back didn't hurt that bad and the nausea was gone, and even if he was still a little weak, he felt almost like himself again. After breakfast, he decided to kill some time cleaning his desk and fell down the rabbit hole lined with old papers until hunger pulled him from the basement. He was reheating some soup for lunch when the doorbell rang. A quick glance out the window revealed Scully's car in the driveway and somewhere between pulling the doors open and saying hello, a pair of arms around his neck drew him into a tight embrace. "Everything okay?" Mulder asked, hugging her back. "Yeah," she breathed, kissing first piece of skin she could reach, "how are you?" "Cold, a little," he chuckled, relieved, "wanna come in?"

"Yes, sorry," she said, slipping away, blushing slightly. He kept her close for one more kiss and asked against her lips. "How's Will?" "Awake," she laughed and stepped inside, slipping out of her coat. "At least awake enough to kick me out." "Rude but smart," he said and led her to the kitchen. "You're just in time for lunch." "That's what he said." "That's my boy," Mulder chuckled bustling around the stove. Scully froze for a second, stunned, and Mulder caught the silence, looking over his shoulder. "You want cheese or pastrami on your sandwich?" "Cheese," she said, burying the fear and when he turned back to the food, she wrapped her arms around his waist, cheek pressed against his back. "Why are you so good to me?" She asked softly, feeling expelled breath before soft laugh reached her ears. "Why do you keep questioning this?" He said, buttering a piece of bread. "You want me to be mean? I can hold the mayo." "That would be cruel, indeed," she smiled, hugging him tighter. "Yeah, I can be a real jerk. Charlie left pie, it's in the fridge." "My brother shared the pie? He must've really liked you," she said, letting go. "You didn't say he was a cop." "Narcotics squad, we don't like to talk about it." "And the girl, Emily? I gather she's Missy's daughter." "There's four of us, Charlie is the youngest, then there's me, Melissa and Bill Jr., the eldest. Melissa is divorced, Bill and his wife, Tara, have a son, Mathew. They live on the west coast." "You must have been quite a gang as kids." "Not really, no," Scully said, setting the pie on the counter, where Mulder already laid out the pan. "Once Charlie grew out of his big brother worship and Missy became too independent to play with her little sister, it was us against them." "Did you always win?" He chuckled, taking two bowls out of the cupboard. "As much as you can win against someone as stubborn as Bill or independent as Missy, we never got him to do anything and she only did what she wanted, so it was fifty-fifty at best." "Family politics never cease to amaze me." "We all listened to mom though," she chuckled, rinsing the pan, "at least until high school. We helped at home and got good grades, and in return were allowed a certain freedom." "Sounds fair," Mulder said and made room for her by the stove. "So you and Charlie stayed here and they moved away." "Bill followed in our fathers' footsteps and joined the navy, so he moved all over the place, and Missy," she moved the pie into the pan and paused to lick her fingers, "Missy always was a restless one. Last day of high school she decided she's not going to college and will go on a road trip and hitchhike all the way to L.A." "From?" "Annapolis." "Maryland?" "Yeah, military brats," Scully said, closing the oven door and setting the timer. "My dad went furious, didn't speak to her for days." "Which didn't change her mind," Mulder guessed and took the bowls to the table. "Not one bit," Scully said following with spoons and sandwiches. "Couch?" Mulder grinned and turned for the living room. "Sure, so Missy went hitchhiking." "We didn't hear from her for months," she said, folding herself on the couch and taking the bowl, speaking between blowing gently on the soup. "Occasional postcard at best, phone call for birthday, that sort of thing, until she showed up for Christmas that year." "That's harsh," Mulder said, wincing because he burned his mouth. "Yeah, but by that time we were just happy to have her home, safe and sound. She made her point and my parents didn't try to tie her down anymore." She paused to take a bite of sandwich. "It went on for a few years, until she had Emily in '87 and came back to settle closer to family." "How long did that last?" "Good fifteen years, Em and Will were like siblings." "And in that time you went to college, then med-school, did a residency in neurology and had Will." "Not only that," Scully sipped her soup, avoiding his gaze and talking about Will. "Charlie joined the force, my dad died, Bill moved a few times, got married, then Mat came around, you know, life happened." "And there was no guy for you, in all that time." Mulder pressed on, amused. "Well, there were men, obviously." "But?" "No one quite right," she said quietly, looking up from under her lashes. "No one?" Mulder teased, scooting closer. "Single mom, lots of overtime." "I would babysit for you." "I bet you would," she smiled and focused on soup and his warmth. "I like Charlie," Mulder said after a while, swallowing last of his sandwich. "What's his story?" "He's a workaholic, like me," Scully said, fishing her soup, "a little crazy too, restless, like Missy. And he's a shameless flirt, but I don't know where he got that from." Mulder laughed. "Maybe that's your father's gift, sailor's soul trapped on land." "And the work part?" "Ocean makes people tough, persistent," he grinned, taking her empty bowl. "You funnel that drive into your job." "You really got us figured out." She said and when he leaned over to set the dishes on the coffee table, she pulled on his sweater, tugging the t-shirt up. Mulder tired to catch her hands. "Wow, you don't waste time." "It's not that," she laughed, swatting at his palms, "let me see the marks, I want to make sure you're healing alright." "From those little pinpricks?" "Don't give me that." He laughed, but hissed when she pulled on the tape holding the gauze. "I feel fine," he said, felling her cool fingers, "the nausea is gone, my appetite is back, I can go back to work on Monday." "There's no inflammation around the scabs," she agreed, then ripped the rest of the tape away, making him flinch. "Sorry, I need to change these." "And here I thought you had such pleasant bedside manner." "One more," she said and tugged. "Ouch!" "Done, you won't need these anymore, simple bandaid will do." "Upstairs bathroom, behind the mirror." "I'll be right back." Scully kissed the tip off his ear, and leaving him laughing, dashed up the stairs and back, a second later. "You're fast," Mulder chuckled when she climbed behind him again. "Have to," she said, "thanks for keeping my toothbrush." "Thought you might be needing it again." "Definitely. This will feel a bit cold." She cleaned the spot on his left side, stuck the bandaid on and moved to his right. Few more swipes of her cool hands and she was done. Resting chin on his shoulder, she wrapped her arms around his waist, warming fingers on bare skin under the t-shirt. "Wasn't that bad was it?" "No, when do you need to get back?" "I promised to be back by dinner time," she said then sighed. "I hate this waiting game, it makes me feel helpless and it's driving me crazy." "I had terrible dreams," he confessed quietly, "Will's blood turned into green acid and melted right through his body." "Mulder," she crooned and pulled him closer. "When was the last time you really slept?" "Last time I was here, Tuesday?" She shook her head and hugged him tighter. "Feels like a lifetime ago." Unlocking her arms gently, he turned and put his arms around her, pulling her down on the seat beside him. "It's too early for bed," he said, leaving her room to snuggle against his chest, "but if you want we can move." "No, this is okay," she sighed and wriggled a little, hand searching for skin under his sweater, tickling lightly. "Blanket?" "Sure." Covered, they warmed fast. "Try to relax," he whispered, kissing the top of her head. "Now I'm good," she sighed, and melted into his side. "When did this happen?" He mused, absently drawing circles on her shoulder. "A week ago we were hardly dating, and now look at us." "Old married couple," she murmured under her breath, "sleeping in the middle of the day." "We should get out more." "And do what?" "Get out of town, go stargazing." "In December?" "Could be fun." "Can't we go someplace warm?" "The movies?" "And neck in the last row?" "I love the way your mind works." "It's a date then," she laughed softly, "now let me sleep." And together they slept, peacefully.

He was helping her into her coat later that evening. "You really don't have to stay up for me." "It's no problem, I'm a bit of a night owl, you know." "Mulder," she sighed, taking his face in her hands, pulling him down to kiss then rest her forehead against his. "Sleep is important, it helps you heal, and even if you feel better, you haven't healed yet. Go to bed, rest, I'll be back tomorrow." "But you haven't told me what you're thankful for, yet." "I'm thankful for you," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck, "for everything you are, and all you've done." "That sounds awful like a goodbye," he whispered, hugging her tighter. "I know," she hugged him back, "but trust me, it's not." Fingers tangled in her hair and his lips were on hers, a deep, hungry kiss that stole breath and wiped out reason. This was Mulder who needed her as much as he cared for her. She heard the words I love you before, but never felt them painted on the roof of her mouth, hugged into her heart and filling her lungs, and she never felt more alive giving them back. "Thank you." Mulder breathed, breaking the lock. "For what?" "For not shutting me out," he said, softening the embrace, tucking the raw need away. "That's what I'm thankful for." "You're easy to please," she sighed, brushing his lips before letting go. "I really have to go." "Tell Will I said hi." "I will." Mulder smiled and leaning on the doorframe, watched her go, remembering to add one more thing to his shopping list for tomorrow.

It was almost noon when Scully stood on the porch, ringing the doorbell again and again, getting nothing, despite his car in the driveway. "Aren't those heels a bit high to sell girl scout cookies?" Asked a warm voice behind her and as she turned, Mulder was coming up stairs. He paused two steps from the top and she met him on the edge, eye to eye for once. "Four dollars," she said talking his face in her hands. His cheeks felt cool, but lips were as warm as always, soft and yielding and parting for her. He tasted like nuts, raisins and chocolate. "Have you been buying cookies from someone else?" "Never." Mulder smiled and kissed her once more before letting go, arm around her waist guiding her to the door. "I stopped by the bakery," he said rummaging through his pockets searching for keys. It took a second but he found them and when he dangled the ring in front of her, she noticed it oddly bare, a single key, no keychain. "What's this?" "For you," he said, letting go and leaning against the wall. Her eyes went wide. "Mulder, I can't." "Call it a spare," he smiled, "for as long as you'll need it." Looking at the key in his outstretched hand then up at him, she saw humour laced with sincerity. "Whenever you need me, use it." "What if I never give it back?" She asked and Mulder shrugged, giving her the same cheeky smile he passed on to his son. "God, you're serious." "I'm cold and I've got cookies, but the coffee's inside, so?" Scully took the key and slipped it into the lock, it turned smoothly. "Let's have coffee." "You've got the best ideas," he said and followed her in.

#generous donation #au #x files fanfic #msr fanfic #sweet nothings

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dianapana · 5 years ago

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SasuHina Month Day 11- Mafia Au

Part 1 (Day 7- Falling in love with an Ex)

Dark side of life -Part 2

Hinata

For months after high school ended I imagined running into Sasuke, I imagined him coming to me and apologizing, I imagined him saying he loved me still and I would have been ok with it, I would have forgave him for the pain he had caused because i was 17 and I love, but as time went on and Uni started and he disappeared I imagined another scenario. I imagined meeting my true soul mate in University and then running into Sasuke and showing him how I had moved on. But once more that didn’t happen. I dated quite a bit in Uni but nothing serious, the longest relationship was barely 2 months and even that I knew wouldn’t last. I never imagined meeting him in a club when I was dressed in someone else’s clothes. I didn’t imagine him hugging me like we’re old pals and for sure I didn’t imagine myself blocking. All of a sudden it feels like the air has been sucked from my lungs, my heart is beating so fast and hard I feel it physically hurting my chest. Ino is grinning at me, Sakura is looking worried and Sasuke is up in my face, smirking.

His smirk is something I'm familiar with, I remember him looking at me that way whenever I told him that I loved him, he’d say ‘i know’ and kiss me hard and whisper that he loved me too. Out of everyone that I have dated Sasuke made me feel the most loved, but he also hurt me the most. He finally let me go and I breath in deeply. I close my eyes while he shakes hands with Sakura and I try to compose myself. When I open my eyes, I feel better. He just caught me off guard, in a place and time when I was already feeling awkward.

I notice Naruto looking at Sasuke alarmed. That makes sense if he’s friends with Sasuke he probably knows what his dark smile means. He's worried that Sasuke will make me upset and I'll vent to Ino and that might affect their relationship. I know this, I've seen this before with Ino’s boyfriends. When she sets me up with the friend of her boyfriend, they always worry about that. But I never cause problems for them and Ino is a hopeless romantic and never sees any of these signs, even now she’s looking at me with stars in her eyes. She's made up her mind that me and Sasuke will be a couple, we’ll have a double wedding and move in the same house and out kids will be best friends. Again...I’ve seen this play out before.

“So how do the two of you know each other?” Ino asks

“We went to the same high school.” I answered vaguely. I hoped Sasuke would leave it to that. But as always Sasuke disappoints me.

“Oh don’t be like that. We were in the same class all thought school from 1rst to 12th grade. And then in 10th grade we started dating until 12th when due to unfortunate events we broke up amicably, of course” He spoke with so much ease even I for a moment believe him. But I quickly remember the true story and the fact that he lied makes me hate him a bit more.

I thank God Temari left, she’s the one that knows about Sasuke. I told both her and Gaara everything one drunken night at their home a couple of summers ago. Ino still looks like she just won the lottery while Sakura and Ten just share a puzzled expression. Naruto is cringing, either he knows the real story, or he can tell that Sasuke is lying.

Ino goes back into party mood and orders more shots for everyone. “You can’t drink tho. You have to drive us all home” she tells Naruto sternly. He only nods and dips his head to kiss her. The thought of getting drunk while Sasuke is around is as pleasant as getting stabbed in the eye with a spoon. But when Ino gives me a shot I drink it anyway, because it’s so much easier to do what she says then to fight with her and end up doing that anyway. For the 8th time that night I wish I had told Neji to come with.

Sasuke

When Naruto said that his girlfriend is celebrating her birthday at K9 club the very night that I had some business in the area I didn’t think much of it. When he said that he wanted to tag along and then party with her I said I'm ok with it. We got to the club, I finished what I had to do pretty fast and I started making my way to where I saw Naruto and Ino and then I noticed her, she was looking at me like I was a ghost. I couldn’t help but mess a bit with her. If I'm honest I expected her to leave early after we arrived.

Naruto keeps throwing me worried looks. He knows about Hinata. When Ino asked how we knew each other I couldn’t help but tell them the story I had made up in my mind. I’ve been refusing the truth, that I broke her heart, since the moment it happened. I keep telling myself it was ok with both of us how we ended. I figure that if I keep saying it enough, I'll eventually start believing it.

Hinata and the other 2 girls are dancing and Ino went to the bathroom so it’s just me and Naruto in the booth for the first time since we got here. “Dude what are you doing?” Naruto asks, I know he’s been worried. I honestly have no idea what I’m doing. I’ve taken every chance to be near Hinata and touch her. Nothing in my life has changed since high school, it actually got worse so I can’t drag her into any of that. But I didn’t expect that just seeing her and being close to her would do this to me. I want to pick her up, throw her over my shoulder and take her home with me. I want to apologize for breaking her heart and help her put it back together. But I can’t. Yet seeing her brings back memories of the 2 years we had together, those 2 years are my happy place. Even the beginning of our relationship when we were a bit awkward, everything about it is perfect, of course if you don’t count the last 2 hours of our relationship when I ruined it all.

I watch as she dances, she’s smiling at her friends, her cheeks are red from the alcohol she drank and probably because she’s hot from dancing. Her clothes are a tad too tight and short but I'm not complaining, I can see every curve of her body, she looks different from when we were in high school, she has a more mature look in her eyes and everything about her is adult now. I used to know every dip and freckle on her body and the thought that it changed, and I will never be able to familiarize myself with it once more makes it hard to breath. I take my eyes off her because I can’t think when I’m watching her. i look around the club and see at least 6 other men looking at her with filthy thoughts read in their eyes and it takes all my willpower not to go to them and smash their heads against a wall. My murderous thought must have been obvious because Naturo places his hand on my shoulder. “Dude I'm worried about you”

Hinata

I ended up drinking enough that now I don’t care that Sasuke is here, actually in a sick kind of way I like feeling his stare burn me. For a while I closed my eyes and imagined we are back in high school. That this is a normal party, that I am dancing with my friends while he is laughing with his friends and that soon enough he’ll come over and hug me from behind, that we’ll dance for a while that way but I'll turn in his hold and we’ll kiss all night long. But as I open my eyes I'm still in the club 6 years later, and he’s sitting at the table and there will be no kissing. I'm oddly disappointed in that. I'm disappointed in me too, I thought I was over this. But just seeing him brought back everything I felt for him, the hurt, the heartbreak and I'm scared that the love is back as well.

Ten and Sakura are back to kissing and Ino is still in the bathroom. I stop dancing and consider going to look for her in case she’s sick. I look to where the boys are and my eyes meet Sasuke’s. For a second I forget everything when I look at him so I smile at him. I point to the bathroom and nod. He looks to the bathroom and nods back. He points at Sakura and Ten, then to himself and makes an ok sign. He’ll watch over them while I'm gone. The high of the alcohol is coming down and I feel emotional. I haven’t found anyone with whom I can talk like I can with him, I feel myself tearing up, so I start walking to the bathroom. I realize that all these years I've tried to get over losing Sasuke as a boyfriend and I did nothing for the part of my heart that broke when I lost him as a best friend.

I knock on the door and Ino shouts that ‘It’s fucking busy’ and if I knock again she’ll break my arm Sometimes I forget how irritable alcohol makes her.

“It’s me. Open up” The door opens and she lets me in.

“Sorry some bitch has been knocking for 5 minutes and she pissed me off” I nod.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, but then I see her make-up kit on the sink, and I understand.

“i’m re-touching my make-up. It was a mess after sweating and kissing Naruto.” she looks back to the mirror and I put the lid down on the toilet and sit on it. I know Ino well enough, this will take her another 10 minutes at least.

“Entertain me. Tell me about Sasuke” I sigh. I knew sooner or later she would wanna know.

“We were friends. We dated. We broke up. Nothing more to say there” Her eyes are on me in the mirror.

“Well you dated him for 2 years that must have been serious. I mean you barely dated that Vet student for 2 months and no one else lasted over 3 weeks” She’s looking me in the eyes and I feel trapped. I hate it so much that I actually get up and leave, I hear Ino shouting after me. I know she won’t follow me. Not until she finishes her make-up. I see Sakura and Ten drinking at the bar, Naruto passes by me with his phone at his ear, so I turn to Sasuke and he’s alone in the booth looking at me with his eyebrow rose. I look at my options, I don’t wanna go back to talk to Ino, i don’t wanna drink anymore, I don’t know Naruto enough to go with him and I can’t just sit alone on the dance floor. A part of my brain tells me I'm just lying to myself, that I actually just want to go to Sasuke and I don’t even bother to correct that part, I just make my way to where he is.

Sasuke

This is the third time tonight that I feel like my heart will jump out of its place. First was when I saw her for the first time, the second was when she smiled at me before going to the bathroom and now is the third as I look at her as she makes her way towards me, her eyes are focused and they have a purpose, I just don’t know what it is.

She sits down next to me and closes her eyes. I touch her cheek with the back of my hand, I can’t help it. She's too close to me for my brain to make any sense. When I saw her initially, I just wanted to tease her a little because I believed she’d leave soon. She didn’t. Her eyes open and she looks younger and hurt.

“Why?” her voice is meek and halfway a sob. I feel like crying too. I know what she’s asking but I don’t answer, I can’t. I just pull her closer. My arm is around her waist, I tilt her head so it’s resting on my shoulder and with my other hand I take one of hers. She fits next to me just as perfect as she always did. She turns her head so her nose touches my shoulder and I can feel her inspire in, I turn my head too so I can bury my nose in her hair and I smell her, she smells like all my wildest dreams come true. I want to cry too, for the time lost, for the happiness I could have had with her.

“My family is doing bad things, really bad things. I couldn’t risk putting you in danger.”

Her head raises. “bad things?”

I nod. “Japanese mafia is no joke.”

I can feel her gasp. Without saying anything else I lower her head once more and stay in the same position as earlier. I open my eyes and see Naruto stare at me with sad eyes, Ino looks ecstatic while the other two girls just look confused. That pretty much sums up what I feel too, I'm sad because I could have had Hinata forever but our lives were just a bit off and we didn’t fit as we should have, I'm ecstatic to be here with her now, touching her, having her warmth all around me, and I'm confused because I don’t know how to fix everything, to make it all fit so I can have her. In high school I gave her up without thinking about how much it would hurt, but now that I know how it is to live with her and how it is to live without her, and I want to do anything in my power to make her want to stay with me and to figure out how to protect her from everything, from my life, my family, myself.

#sasuhina #sauhina month 2019 #sasuhinamonth #SHMONTH2019 #SASUKE #HINATA #diawrites #dia-story #sasuhina month

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cals-eyebrows · 5 years ago

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In Between Days [L.H.] College!Luke Multi-Shot: Part 1

College!Luke AU Multi-shot

[Parts 1 of 3]

Title credit- In Between Days by The Cure

In Between Days by cals-eyebrows

Luke was sitting with his three best friends in front of the student union on campus. They had gotten lunch and finished eating, each of them reconfiguring their bodies in more relaxed positions. Michael was smirking at Calum, whose shoulders were basically aligned with the rest of his horizontal body, laying against a tree trunk. Ashton was sitting cross-legged on the grass, Michael was laying on his stomach, and Luke had his legs stretched out before him.

They were bored, as it was the Friday of the last week of classes. The semester coming to a close, and even though it was finals week in 2 days, they had the weekend to study. They were planning on spending the nice, May weather outside pretending like deadlines weren’t looming over them.

Luke lifted his face toward the sun, closing his eyes and allowing the heat to spread through his body. He felt the soft wind blow through his dirty blonde curls. He listened to the laughter of his stupid friends and felt free. He felt good, finally.

It had been 30 days since Erica broke up with Luke (not that he was counting.)

Erica. His first real love. Even though he knew they ended up being toxic for each other, Luke had a good way of blocking out the toxicity, choosing instead to romanticize their good memories. He was lucky he had Ashton to remind him of how fucking terrible it was to be together.

Regardless, it was an uphill battle, a constant back-and-forth of feeling confident to feeling like he couldn’t breathe. It wasn’t lost on his friends.

Ashton watched Luke close his eyes and felt his heart tug. It had been a tough couple of months, as Luke’s relationship crumbled before his eyes. As always, sensitive and intuitive Luke took on a lot of the blame of this. It wasn’t fair to Ashton, who’d do anything to see his friend happy.

Michael’s voice broke the silence of the group: “Mickey Richards, ten o’clock!”

Miriam “Mickey” Richards was a tall, blonde, and beautiful Criminal Justice major that Calum knew pretty well. They were friends, having numerous classes together and getting to know one another on the weekends due to the same partying routine. Actually, Cal was in love with her, even if he didn’t want to necessarily admit it. Luke could read into his nonchalant act.

Sure enough, Luke opened his eyes to glance at the gorgeous blonde, who was arm-and-arm with her two best friends, Vanessa and Emily. The three were each wearing sundresses and sandals. The three girls made up a weird dynamic, as they all were so different from each other.

Mickey was athletic, outgoing, and always up to party. The other end of the spectrum was Emily. Em was tiny next to Mickey: lighter brown hair, maybe five feet tall (on a good day), brainy, and not worried about social status. Balancing the two extremes was Vanessa, a medium height Latina who had dark hair and dark features, who was a nice balance of smart, successful, and fun.

Luke watched Cal’s eyes follow the blonde across the lawn, where she and her friends settled in a spot a bit away from their group. Yep, Cal was certainly infatuated.

Interestingly enough, Calum and Luke shared similar views on love. They both agreed that true love was bullshit. Although, they both secretly hoped that their time would come, that somewhere out there, a partner existed that would accept and love them unconditionally.

As the boys continued on their regularly scheduled roasting session, Luke was struck with an idea. He’d play matchmaker! Calum didn’t need to feel like shit, he deserved to be happy. Maybe, by helping Cal, Luke could feel better and get back in the dating game himself.

And he knew who exactly he needed in order to make this idea come true, to play matchmaker for one of his best friends. His blue eyes zeroed in on Emily, the small one.

** -**-*

Hours later, and the four men were standing around at a party. It was in the basement of a house, all cement walls and floors surrounding them, with tons of people. Luke wandered away from his group, giving Ashton a small smile as if to say, I’m okay. Be right back. It was time to put his plan in action, to try and get Emily on board.

Luke spotted her small frame a mile away. For being so small, you’d think she’d blend in more to crowds. Nope, not Emily Anderson. Her light brown middle length hair was thrown into a messy ponytail, the baby hairs framing her oval shaped face nicely. Luke could tell she hadn’t gotten made up to be at the party and he liked that. Some people might label her as “blah” but for Luke she always seemed grounded and had her shit together. It was inspiring and slightly irritating all at the same time. Her outfit followed this theme: she was wearing dark blue jeans and a black V-neck with a camouflage army jacket.

Emily Anderson was a mix of slightly unavailable and cute, maybe even hot. She didn’t draw much attention to herself, but when you noticed her – you _noticed _her. Unfortunately, this was Luke’s case. They had a couple of classes together, one was math and the other was a literature course. In both, Emily was always there early, never skipped, and always participated.

He had noticed her and noticed how she had kept her distance, saw her around campus with only a few friends, never more. Noticed how men may look at her, but how she never saw them back. Or if she did see them, often quickly decided they weren’t worth the time.

He made his way through the crowds, trying to navigate a sea of shoulders, despite his looming six foot and a half frame. He carefully balanced two red solo cups, trying his best not to spill any of the honey colored beer inside.

“Hey, I got you a drink,” Luke says confidently to Emily, who was standing alone. He saw her quit her Instagram app on her phone and look up at him. It was the way she looked at him, not able to focus on any one part of his face, that he knew she was drunk.

He smiled, already liking this side of her. She smiled and looked like a huge, cute dork, Luke noted.

“Oh, my god! Thank you, guy-from-my-class!” Emily responded, quickly putting her phone in her back pocket in order to take the cup from him.

“What, you don’t even know my name?!” Luke teased her, having to look down. Emily’s neck, on the other hand, craned upwards.

“I’m too focused on Dr. Smith and his stupid, dumb PowerPoints. He always flips through them so fast. I can’t copy the notes fast enough,” Emily complained, lifting the cup to her lips. “Anyways, I’m so sorry. What’s your name, buckaroo?”

“Luke,” Luke looked into the crowd of people. Nobody seemed to notice their interactions. “Are you here with anybody?” Vanessa and Mickey were nowhere in sight.

…Perfect.

“Well,” Emily sighed, “Vanessa left me for a boy, um, Drew Stevens?” Emily phrased the last part as a question, hoping Luke might know who that is so she wouldn’t have to explain further. Luke nodded, knowing Drew was a pretty popular athlete around campus. It was obvious the young women liked him, and Vanessa was always up for anything, so it made sense. “So now I’m alone.”

“Not anymore,” Luke elbowed her playfully. “I have come to your rescue, Madame.”

Emily rubbed the spot where Luke had touched her. “I drank all my beer.” Her deadpan tone put an end to their banter, but Luke wasn’t ready to just… leave.

He had come to the party, knowing that she was going to be there. He overheard her complaining about her grades in Stats, and he was going to use this as leverage.

As much as Emily had flown under the radar, he knew she would be perfect. She was cute, but definitely obtainable. She was… perfect for his intended uses. He could only make it fair by offering his services.

“You know,” Luke said as soon as Emily returned from the keg, holding a newly poured beer, “I could help you with your Stats homework.”

Emily’s drunk eyes perked up slightly, “You could? I mean, of course I could pay you or –“

“You won’t need to do that. I have something else in mind,” Luke smiled, showing off a dimple. Emily’s eyes flickered briefly between his blue eyes and his lips. Emily’s head jerked back in surprise as she processed the innuendo. Within minutes, with a little more coaxing from Luke, he took Emily’s smaller hand in his own and led her away from the noise of the party.

In the depths of the party, behind a closed bathroom door, Emily and Luke made a pact. They would agree to a fake relationship and a fake double date in order to bring their friends together. They promised not to tell another soul.

Despite being mere acquaintances and basically strangers, Luke and Emily agreed that both of their friends seemed into each other, and that they both deserved to be happy. Emily told Luke about how Mickey seemed to never find the right person and was beginning to become hard on herself about it. In turn, Luke told Emily how Calum really didn’t believe in love at all, and that he didn’t even want to try. They discussed and planned that doing a fake double date would probably be the easiest way: subtle but will get the job done.

As they talked, Luke kept drinking and taking Emily in. He processed her and her mannerisms. He realized he liked the way the corners of her eyes crinkled when she laughed and the way she pressed her palm to her chest when she just couldn’t believe he’d just said that scandalous joke.

He thought, yeah. She’s perfect.

….For helping me get Mickey and Calum together, of course! Perfect for that.

|Part 2|

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minaminokyoko · 5 years ago

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Spider-Man: Far from Home--A Spoilertastic Review

Oh, my baby boy is back and it feels good.

Like many of you, I was looking forward to FFH due to the trauma left behind by our final film with all the Avengers present, and I needed to see my sweet Spider Son to try to dry my tears. I'm happy to say Far from Home is just the popcorn flick we need this summer: light, enjoyable, fun. I do admit to a bias right off the bat, before I begin the review: I am one of the hugest fans of the Iron Dad and Spider Son dynamic, and so I knew by default that I wasn't going to like this movie as much as the first one. Sorry. I am a skank for adopted family tropes, and I think Iron Dad and Spider Son was one of the strongest relationships developed in the MCU period. Losing Tony is just...agonizing. I've sectioned it off in my brain as Did Not Happen just to get by, honestly, and so keep that in mind as we proceed.

Spoilers ahead.

Overall Grade: B

Pros:

-Lemme get this out of the way: MY SONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN MY SPIDER SON OH MY GOSH PETER PARKER IS SUCH A GOOD BOI AND A SWEET SMOL BEAN AND I HAVE NO MATERNAL INSTINCTS EXCEPT WHEN IT COMES TO MCU PETER PARKER AND I LOVE THIS CHILD MORE THAN ANYTHING AND I JUST WANT TO PROTECT HIM AND HUG HIM AND BRUSH HIS HAIR AND COOK HIM DINNER I LOVE MY LITTLE BOY Y'ALL.

-Ahem. Tom Holland still shines in this role. I really, solidly care about Peter Parker. He's a great kid and he's very realistic in the way that he's written and acted. He's just a shy, awkward little nerd with a heart of gold who unfortunately has been forced into the worst situations that he's not ready for. I wanted to punch "Nick" in the face for how much goddamn pressure he put on a kid who is literally still in the goddamn mourning process just like everyone else. Peter has so much to deal with and he's only had these powers for a short amount of time, so it's natural that he's so frustrated and anxious and he wants time to go after things that are important to him. I found that very understandable and sympathetic, even if the "I just want to be normal" trope has been done to death in superhero media. MCU Peter has so much heart and I'm proud of this baby for what he's able to accomplish.

-The allusions to Tony and the void left behind hit home quite hard. Especially that fucking gravestone part of the Mysterio sequence. That was just...cruel. Tony taught Peter so much, and he genuinely loved that kid. He grew to love him and trust him and worry about him, and it's so awful that Tony won't get to see him grow up to be his own man. I'm grateful for the time they had together, and I really love Tony leaving Peter the glasses and the A.I., knowing that while he might still make a mistake, he would do the right thing in the end. (Side note: EDITH is as funny as it is fucked up, "Even Dead, I'm the Hero." God fucking damn you, Tony, that is so in-character and it hurts my soul.) "Nick" shoving all that pressure onto Peter made me want to kick his ass, especially since he talks down to him and tries to blame him for not being ready when he only just got into the game relatively speaking. But I also loved the sequence of him in the plane doing exactly what Tony used to do in his lab. It's such a great parallel, showing that Peter is his own person but he's also a chip off the old block, and that is very sweet to see. (I also squealed at the Led Zeppelin comment, oh my son, such a cutie.)

-I was extremely hesitant about them choosing Gyllenhaal for the role of Mysterio (not because of his skill as an actor, just because he looks like a giant puppy, sorry) but now I see why. He's an unstable narcissist and it fits him. What a jerkoff. I was furious with how callous he was and how he shifted blame everywhere like it's just SO necessary to kill all these people for fame, fortune, and money. Ugh, what a shitbird. So kudos to him. I didn't think he could pull it off, but he sure as hell did.

-The effects were fantastic. I really do think the illusion sequence will go down in MCU history as one of the most visually creative, disorienting, heartbreaking things we've seen so far in the saga. It was harrowing, especially the Iron Man suit crawling out of the grave. What a kick in the fucking nuts for Peter, and for us.

-Peter and MJ, while it did get a little overwhelming, were cute as shit. And I'm glad that the modern films are removing the stigma of the "I can't let my family and friends know I'm the hero" thing. It was definitely heavily done in the 80's, 90's, and early to mid 2000's and I'm fine to see it being phased out at least in terms of the MCU. It's a little more realistic that most of your family or friends would be able to handle your secret, and not only that, help you out on occasion. I'm glad she knows and their kisses were freaking adorable. Sweet babies.

-That. First. End. Credits. Scene. What a fucking killer. First off, God bless whoever at Marvel Studios listened to the thousands of fans begging them to cast J. K. Simmons as J. Jonah Jameson again, continuity be damned. The man IS the embodiment of the character, and I absolutely fucking ADORE that they gave us the nod and the wink we all wanted even back when Spidey was Andrew Garfield. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Next, oh my God, my sweet baby boy, my smol bean, got called out and branded as a murderer. Fuck, this is gonna be a serious problem, and considering the fact that we don't have the next MCU film lined up yet (at the time this was posted, and mind you, San Diego Comic Con is in two weeks, so maybe they'll clarify) the consequences could definitely be crazy. Poor Peter. He's gonna have a lot of work to do in order to undo this mess and prove that he's not Spidey, but this could also mean they're adapting some part of the Civil War story, maybe. We'll see, but that was a big ass bomb to drop.

-The Skrulls second credit scene was a genuine surprise, and it made sense. I thought Nick felt a little off the whole movie, and that really does explain why--it's someone else doing an impression of him and trying their best. Nick would've been smart enough to know probably right off the bat that Beck wasn't who he said he was. His story was way too noble and convenient. Nick would've probably have run facial recognition and then it would ping for a former Stark Industries employee, and that would've been a wrap. I like that it being a Skrull justifies what would be a plothole. Neat idea.

-I appreciated the Spidey's eye view of the action. Those were some cool shots and they were centered well, so you didn't feel nauseous or anything. It kept you in the action and was very engrossing and cool.

Cons:

-The bystander syndrome that everyone got this time around is a little irksome. It's the same reason that while I really, really love Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 2, I default don't like it as much as the first one since everyone got put into the bystander spot except for basically Peter in the very end. While it was nice to have them defend themselves, I'd have liked it more of MJ and Ned and the others figured their own way out of escaping the drones. Why? Because it would show Peter that it's not always on just his shoulders. His friends are competent and they can help, and I think that would've been a better way to go rather than him doing it himself.

-Some of the humor was flat. JB Smooth and the other teacher are the worst offenders, I'd say. They were given too much screentime and they're not that funny.

-The May and Happy subplot goes almost nowhere and isn't fully explored, and I kind of would've been fine if it hadn't been in the movie at all. It doesn't add much.

-The ending was kind of unclear? Did Beck actually get shot and die from his wounds? If so, then what was the official story about the drones and his body and whatnot? It's all pretty damn vague. If Beck is dead, that's disappointing. I kinda wish Marvel would stop killing the villains at the end of almost all the films. Longest running recurring villains are Loki and Thanos, I think. Vulture lived, and I'd like him to return in the future if possible. You can use actors more than once, Marvel, they're not tissue paper.

-Nitpick: It did almost feel like we missed a movie where Peter likes MJ. She was more a cameo in the first one than a full lead, so it almost felt like there's a short film somewhere of them getting closer and him getting over Liz and liking MJ instead.

-Nitpick: Same with the whole "other guy also likes MJ" subplot. Eh, I could leave it out and not miss it.

-Nitpick: I still can't with how they expect anyone to buy that Night Monkey story. I mean, it's black suited Spidey no matter which way you look at it. And yes, people should immediately notice he's at the very least one of the students at Peter's high school, and then it can't be too hard after that. I mean, Peter doesn't even change his voice while he's in the suit.

-Nitpick: I was kind of hoping for more clues or reactions to half of everyone, you know, being fucking murdered by Thanos for five years and returning to their lives. But I guess that was just pushed aside because it could become a whole rabbit hole issue. Still, though, I was hoping someone would tell us if the Snapped just don't remember being dead or if there is some kind of afterlife they experienced. (Side note: wow, holy shit, the teacher's mini story about it was dark and awful but I did laugh out of shock. I mean, damn. Low blow, wifey. Low fucking blow.)

-They mention spidey sense but I'd have liked it if they explicitly explain why he has it sometimes but other times he doesn't? It seems to fluctuate, but why and how? Is it more like anxiety or an extra sense? Is it based on his emotional health? I want clarification.

All in all, I had a good time and I'd put this in the middlegrade MCU films. I still really enjoy Holland in the role and I want nothing but good things for him and this franchise.

#spider-man #spider-man far from home #far from home #movie review #film review #spoilers #spoiler alert #iron dad #spider son

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shianhygge-imagines · 6 years ago

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In The Name Of Love [Wrench/Reader] Finale

Series: In the Name of Love Part 4/4 Chapter Title: At The End Of My Love Words: 4,462 words

Brief AN: So, I’m back from the dead. Since I haven’t written, nor posted anything in a while, I’m going to slowly start writing and posting again. The first order of business, was to finish “In the Name of Love” because it’s been two years(I think?) since I started “Project Wrench Your Heart,” and it’s among the easiest to write out of all my series. This ending, might have you all... really livid, but I’m rather pleased with it.

edit 28/8/18 16:52: edited for POV discrepancy, and reformating

|Masterlist|

In the Name of Love: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I want to tell you a story, my dear audience. It’s a story that anyone might be able to relate to - one about heartache. Specifically, this story is one about a young woman who fell in love with a man whose smile halted her breath, and whose tenacity would inspire her to walk with him to the ends of the Earth. It’s a story of how her love would quickly become her greatest weakness - a slow poison to eat at her mind, body, and soul.

I want to tell you that his love for her was pure, and that the two lived a life full of happiness. But that is never the case with most relationships. Despite all that she would say and do, his love for her faltered and wavered, doubts, fears, and lust consuming him while she desperately sought to save him. It wasn’t enough for him, so the young woman let him go.

Yet still, it hurt.

She loved him with all of her being. If he was in danger, she ran to his aid. Even when her life would tear at the seams, she ran to him. Even if he would hate her, she would run to him.

You would run to him.

You would help him.

You would save him.

And you would take his hate.

Because in the end, it was all for him.

“At the beginning of my love, there was only blind devotion, innocent and uncorrupted. I could only see the best in you despite your actions. I would make whatever excuse I could to keep myself blind.”

You knew that this story could only end in two ways. In one outcome, you and Wrench would both perish, losing your lives to the woman who had created such a large divide in your relationship. In another, you would rise victorious, having saved Wrench from Lydia and her deceit. The ramifications of both outcomes were dire enough that you stood, frozen, at your position in the darkening alleyway.

You had sacrificed so much for Wrench - losing your arm, your heart - and while you still held onto it yet, you were sure that you might even lose your humanity if everything went south.

Still, you waited patiently and silently as the sun set, casting the streets of east San Francisco into the dark. This was your job. Only you and Isa’s cohorts would be able to get this done.

Given that you only had one arm left to use, you’d armed yourself with a silenced pistol, extra ammo, a few grenades (of the explosive, smoke, and flash variety, and a hunting knife. In all honesty, you felt out of your comfort zone without your rifle, but having only one limb severely limited your lethality with a two handed weapon.

And then, just as the sun disappeared from the horizon completely, the screams started.

Despite knowing what would go down tonight, you flinched just the slightest. Those weren’t screams of rage, after all. They were screams of pure unadulterated terror.

You gave a count of ten before you sprinted out from the cover of the pitch black alleyway. In front of the safe house gates were three armed guards, each wore kevlar vests and held a Blume modified military grade rifle - their attention seemed to have been redirected when the screaming started, and had their backs facing you. All three seemed to have been frozen in place, no doubt horrified that someone had gotten past them. But none of them moved from their places, likely in terror.

And with your position, crouched not even ten feet away from them, it wasn’t difficult to hear why. Gunshots were heard followed by horrified screams, but unlike before, when it had only been screams, you heard begging and the sick sound of screams dying in throats. The squelches of something.

One of the guards shoved at another’s arm, “Hey, man. You go check that out.”

“W-what? Are you fucking insane? There’s a slaughter going on in there, and you want me to waltz in there and do what?” The shoved guard’s voice rose pitch after pitch in fright.

“Yeah, Wellington, if you’re in any condition to be telling Thomas what to do, maybe you should go in.” The last guard seemed about as willing to go in as the others.

“Oh fuck off, McCullum! I’ve got kids and a wife waiting for me.” Wellington snarled with a shack of his head.

“Hey! I’ve got a baby girl on the way! No way am I leaving my wife and child!” Thomas protested, before turning to look at McCullum, “And what about you?”

“…Boyfriend.” McCullum grunted quietly, crossing his arms and turning away. “…He proposed last week, but given how dangerous my job is, I didn’t answer him yet.”

“Oh yeah… that handsome doc working at the Children’s Hospital, right?” There was a sudden realization in Thomas’s tone, and by the protective glare on McCullum’s face, the guard held his hands up in surrender. “Hey! I’m not judging! You love him, and who am I to judge.”

“So we all got people waiting for us back home.” Wellington muttered, staring down at his gun and indecisively shifting back and forth on his feet. “But we also have a job. If we don’t go in, we might be out of a job. But if we go in, we might die.”

From you crouched position, you grit your teeth and clenched your hands. You wanted revenge. DedSec wanted revenge. Blume wanted revenge. But how many people, innocent people, were going to get stuck in the crossfire. The three men standing guard? They didn’t ask to be employed by such a corrupt system, but it was their living. Isa, Chikage, and their men? All they wanted was peace. You, DedSec, and Blume were the ones that dragged the others in.

You were already going to take the life of one or two individuals tonight. Did you really want to take three more?

Heaving a sigh at your sudden development of a moral conscious, you stood and holstered your gun, putting your hand up and walking around the car slowly. “Hey.”

All three men whipped around with their rifles trained on you, laser sights marking three points on your body, head, heart, and lungs, but none of them fired. Ignoring your instincts to duck for cover, you kept your hand in the air, “Beautiful night, isn’t it?”

“What the hell do you want?” It was McCullum that interrogated you with a snarl, flicking the safety off the rifle.

You made a small motion with your head towards the safe house gates. “I need to get into that place.”

Wellington gave a mocking laugh, “Are you kidding me? We’re not going to let you in, kid.”

“Well someone has to go in.” You were playing this a little too close to the chest for you liking.

“Trust me, kid, you don’t want to go in there.” Thomas warned, and as if on cue, another terrified scream rang from behind the gates.

“Hmmm.” You mused in thought, “It sounds like your coworkers are dying, sir.”

“And you’re not moving from this spot.” McCullum warned when you took a step forward.

You were getting impatient now, so you dropped the whole act. “Listen, boys, I need to get into that place one way or another, and you’re kind of in my way. It’s obvious that all of you are unwilling to go in there and help, so why don’t I make you guys an offer?”

“And why would we listen to anything you had to say?” Wellington snarled, and from the glint of a street light, you could make out his trigger finger flexing just the slightest.

“I mean… you don’t have to. Just thought I’d throw it out into the open.” When no answer came, you took it as a sign to continue. “You see those cameras up there?” you pointed with your remaining limb at the two discrete lenses poking from atop the gate and covered by some foliage. “When everything is said and done, and all your coworkers are dead, your employers are going to investigate whatever happened tonight. All they’re going to find are dead bodies in the building, and you three, standing out here, not doing anything to help. Now tell me, without a potential culprit for these murders, who do you think is going to become the figurative scape goat?” Understanding seemed to cross their expressions, and you grinned, “They’re going to blame you three. And suddenly, your names will be blacklisted and wanted everywhere. Everything you hold dead will be forfeit. And everyone. But if you let me into that safe house, I’ll give you my name, and I’ll erase all trace of your involvement with Blume, whether it be your employment with them, or your presence here today. And then I’ll get you all jobs of your choice. I’m a woman of my word.”

There was silence before Thomas spoke up, “Your name first.”

A sly smirk appeared on your lips, “Are you all in agreement? Because I’m not just going to give my name if all of you aren’t going to go along with it.”

Reluctantly, McCullum lowered his gun, and after a while, Wellington did as well. “Fine. But you better keep your word.”

“Hmm. Y/N L/N.” You mumbled, walking past them and through the gates. “And I’ll contact you all once it’s done. You should probably go home now. The authorities might arrive soon, so you’ll want to be far away.”

Without a goodbye, you strolled through the rest of the way and disappeared in the darkness.

“In the name of love, I would kill, I would steal, I would cheat, and I would lie. All for you. All for something I thought would bind us. But slowly, our love became corrupted. Was it because of me? Was I too obsessed with you? Was it because of you? Was it because you took advantage of my love and obsession? What happened to make you abandon me so? And yet still, I crave to be by your side?”

It didn’t take much to block out all the bodies littering the halls. It didn’t take much thought to block out the sounds coming from the shadows. The squelching and crazed giggles. Because deep in this mass grave, was your target. Your end goal.

“The Prince bids you good hunting.”

“Follow. Follow. Your damsel awaits.”

“Hehehe guarded by an ugly troll.”

“And a small snarling bitch.”

“Oh…”

“Troll’s dead, Troll’s dead!”

“Disgusting red. Don’t touch.”

“Don’t touch.”

“Don’t touch the bitch.”

“Don’t touch the damsel.”

“They belong to the hunter now.”

“The arrows will guide you.”

Those were among the voices that you could understand. Some were snarling, and some sounded borderline crazed. But you followed the giant red arrows leading you through the safe house anyways. You didn’t trust these goons, but you trust Isa and Chikage to keep their subordinates in line.

When you arrived at the heavy set of double doors, it’s steel complexion marred with a giant red X, you heard the giggling, louder than ever. To the side of the doors, propped up on the wall, was the corpse of a giant man with a shredded throat and multiple puncture wounds along his body. He was the man who held you down just as Lydia hacked your arm off. And you felt no remorse at his death, simply took in his face stuck in terror and turned away.

“X marks the spot.”

“The hunter found the treasure.”

“Time to kill the yipping bitch.”

“And take back the damsel.”

You took a deep breath in and waited ten seconds before exhaling, and shoving open a door, your pistol drawn to take aim.

The interior of the room was unfurnished save for a few left over tables and chairs, the paint along the walls cracked, and the ceiling missing panels. The room was dimly lit, casting shadows all over the room. And at the center of the space, stood Lydia, dressed in the same dark outfit that she’d assaulted you in.

“So, you really did survive.” An arrogant smirk was on her lips as she crossed her arms and straightened her posture to maintain a superior stance. “Too bad you were too late to save the others.”

“Where’s Wrench?” You demanded, grip firm on the pistol as you kept the firearm pointed and aimed at her.

“Wrench, Wrench, Wrench. That’s all you seem to talk about, you know? So fucking boring and predictable.” A mocking sneer twisted what would have been a pretty face before she stepped aside, allowing you to see that Wrench had been strapped to a chair and gagged. “He’s a bit roughed up, I’ll admit. And I might have broken him a little.”

A bit roughed up, yes. You could see the bright bruises on his unmasked face from where you stood. And the normally bright blue eyes of his were dull and lifeless. His clothes were disheveled and ripped, as if he’d been thrown around. But he was alive.

“Give up, Lydia. You’ve lost.” You gave it your best shot, but you were in no way as intimidating as Batman, what with only one arm, and dressed in streetwear.

“Hmmm… how about no?” Lydia drew her own gun - a hand cannon - and pointed it at Wrench’s head, turning the safety off. “You have nothing to threaten me with, Y/N. But I have lover boy. Oh… but he’s not your lover boy, is he? He’s still mine.” At your hesitance, Lydia continued to speak. “Oh you should have seen his face during this entire fiasco. He was so fucking happy that I gave him the time of day, and was all too happy to leave you. It was pathetic really. Wasn’t it Wrench?” a muffled whine of humiliation was her answer. “He wasn’t even a good fuck. Couldn’t get me off for the life of him.” Lydia released a long suffering sigh, “Not like Dusan. Now there’s a guy who was hot, wealthy, smart, and oh boy could he make me cum. But no matter. Don’t have to pretend anymore. I have what I want now. Dusan is still mine, after he left his girlfriend. And I single-handedly brought down DedSec. Now all I have to do is… tie up all the loose ends. Starting with lover boy here.”

“Oh? Are you scared of me, Lydia?” You had to get her attention away from Wrench. “C’mon, you’re scared of a one armed cripple? That’s just pathetic. Face me. One on one, just knives.” You holstered your gun and drew your hunting blade. “I know you like to use your machete, Lydia. And besides, what do you have to lose? I’m a cripple. And if you manage to kill me, you’ll only have made Wrench suffer more before you kill him.”

Lydia smirked, and brought out the machete strapped to her back, putting the hand cannon away as she waved the blade around. “Oh… I know you’re baiting me, Y/N. But you’re right. You’re an easy kill, and guns just aren’t personal enough. Fine. You have yourself a duel.”

It didn’t take a moment before Lydia was charging at you, swinging her machete with calculated aim. She wanted this duel to last - wanted to hit you in non lethal areas. It would hurt, and you would slowly bleed out, but you would last longer. Your eyes sharpened in concentration as you dodged the downward slice by dodging to the side, careful to stay on your feet because Lydia had the advantage in maneuverability.

Yes, you were baiting her, you were glad, in a sense that she caught onto your game so easily. It would make her too confident, too arrogant. It would be easy to get Lydia to slip up. So you bid your time, dodging the oddly angled attacks, getting a feel for the room and throwing some cheat shots at her.

Dodge her swing, get in close, quick slice to the abdomen, and dance back away.

Rinse and repeat.

Thanks to what Isa did, you felt like you could keep it up all night, but Lydia didn’t have that advantage, and you quickly began to notice that her motions were getting a bit lazy, there was less energy in her swings.

And then there.

Lydia faltered in her swing due to a misstep, whether it be from carelessness or fatigue, you took advantage of it. You went in and swing your hunting blade down, severing the tendon in her dominant hand, forcing her to drop the machete. She let out a harsh choked scream as she leaned forward to grab at any part of your body. Dancing to the side, you watched as Lydia overstepped, and with a well aimed kick to the back of her supporting leg, she went crashing down to the floor.

Quickly, you got to your knees, straddling the struggling woman, and taking out her hand cannon from her hip holster. With a look of distaste, you threw the hand cannon across the room before arming yourself, once more, with your hunting knife.

“GET OFF OF ME!” Lydia screamed, writhing on the floor and trying to hit you. Her attempts were weak and ineffective given that she was laying on her front instead of her back. The cut on her wrist was still bleeding severely, so she must have been feeling the effects of blood loss by now.

You didn’t lighten up on the pressure against her back, sitting firmly as you played around with the hunting knife in you hands. “An eye for an eye.” You muttered thoughtfully, before plunging the knife through her lower back, in the same place that you had been stabbed by her.

“W-what? Are you going to torture me now?” Lydia hissed in pain, “Well! D-do your w-worst! Dusan will avenge me!”

“You know,” you drawled in low bored tones, “I highly doubt he’ll care about you being gone.”

“No! He’ll get you! He’ll send people after-ARGH”

You interrupted her protests by twisting the knife just a little and pulling out. “You see… Dusan’s got bigger worries than getting vengeance for the death of his latest squeeze. He’s got to worry about DedSec.” You let Lydia go and went to stand, casually putting the hunting knife away in favor of your silenced pistol.

There was a slight shiver of satisfaction from the look of horror on Lydia’s face when she fully registered what you had said. “…no. NO! I killed them. I KILLED THEM ALL!”

Shaking your head, you took out your new cellphone and dialed a familiar number, setting it to speakerphone. The line rung once, twice, before the other person picked up, “Y/N! How is everything on your side?”

“Things are going great, Marcus!” You answered, savoring the look of horror on Lydia’s face. “How is everyone?”

“Well, they’re great! Thanks for having our backs, Y/N.” Marcus thanked, his voice sounding a bit remorseful. “Even though we don’t deserve it… Just… thanks. How’s Wrench?”

“I’m about to get him now. I’ll see you at the gates.”

“Sure thing. Be safe now.”

“Of course.” With a click the phone went dead, and you were left with the despairing wails leaving Lydia’s mouth. Flicking the safety off the pistol, you took aim at Lydia, “You know… I really wanted to make this last. Make you feel everything that the members of DedSec felt. But I realized that I would have done everything that you did to us. And I guess it’s a bit late to take the moral high ground, but for what it’s worth…” You gave a tiny smile at the woman. “At least I’ll never become like you.”

Lydia made to lunge at you just as you pulled the trigger.

She made no sound as she died. Just fell to the floor with a single bullet through her head.

A sigh left your mouth and your shoulders slumped in exhaustion. It was done. Now, all you had to do was get Wrench to safety.

Turning on your heels, you found Wrench, his shoulders shaking and tears falling from the eyes that stared at Lydia’s lifeless body. He didn’t speak as you untied him, as you ungagged him, or even as you supported him on the way out of the safe house. There was only silence and your thoughts.

Thinking back to the way that Wrench had stared at Lydia’s body, with tears streaming down his cheeks; with tears still streaming down his cheeks, you lamented that maybe he’d really loved Lydia after all. That he’d been in a one-sided love as you had. And almost bitterly, you wanted to take satisfaction that he’d experienced what he’d put you through. But it was so vindictive, that you couldn’t.

At the safe house gates, you saw that the three guards had taken your advice and left. In their place were the remaining members of DedSec, ready to receive Wrench, just like you planned.

“Wrench!” Sitara called out in worry, she and Marcus sprinting over. “Y/N… I’ve got him.” The woman assured you, pulling Wrench away from your side so that you could balance your entire body again. “Thank you. We can never repay you.”

As Sitara led Wrench towards Josh and Ray, who stood by as guards, you couldn’t help but see Wrench look back at you. Solemnly, you waved your arm in farewell, “Get better soon.”

“You’re not coming back with us?” Marcus questioned, peering at you through his lensless purple glasses. “Wrench might need you.”

Your face set in a heavy frown as you shook your head. “I’m not coming back to DedSec. And I’m not going back to Wrench.”

“But… he needs you, Y/N.”

“No…” you protested, crossing your arms to create a makeshift shield. “Wrench needs his friends. He needs you, Sitara, Josh, Ray, and even Wrench Jr. But he doesn’t need me.” Seeing the argument that Marcus was going to start, you firmly stood your ground and said what you needed to. “I love Wrench. From the bottom of my heart, I do. But the relationship that we had, that we have… it’s poison. For both of us. And in order for either of us to be able to function, I have to leave. So long as I’m around him, I’ll continue to tempt myself, and to make him feel bad.”

“So you’re just going to leave?” Marcus snarled, “Without saying goodbye to him?”

“I think he and everyone else heard me, Marcus.” You huffed, eyeing the group in the truck, who stared looking extra guilty. “But you know that I’m right. And you know that I’m right. So unless fate makes it so, this is the last that you’ll see of me, Marcus.” With one last nod towards the members of DedSec, you bid them farewell, walking down the street and out of sight. “I wish you all the best.”

One week later…

ZzzzzZttt

“So you are a woman of your word.”

You took a long swig of your drink and gazed, unimpressed at the man before you. “Yes, Mr. McCullum, that’s what I said last week.” You gestured towards the open seat at the cafe table. “Sit.”

ZzzzzZttt

It was the first time you saw McCullum since your first meeting, and in the day, dressed casually, you could finally make out what he looked like. Tall, probably in his mid-thirties, short beard and styled short black hair. He was a handsome fellow, that’s for sure, though his ice blue eyes were intimidating.

“I heard from Wellington and Thomas.” McCullum informed you, analyzing you critically. “They said you wiped their employment with Blume and got them jobs at Cybertech and Abstergo. You’re a difficult person to track down, Y/N.”

ZzzzzZttt

Another long sip of your drink as you watched the people go by from behind your sunglasses. “I did contact you, McCullum. You just overreacted.”

ZzzzzZttt

“Of course I overreacted!” McCullum snarled defensively, “You contacted my fiancé!”

ZzzzzZttt

“Ah. I should also congratulate you on the engagement!” you sent the taller man a bright and beaming grin, genuinely happy that someone you knew had a happy romance going on.

“Ah.. Yes…” McCullum coughed, a blush making its appearance on his cheeks, “Thank you, by the way, for the engagement gift.”

Your smile widened, “I’m glad you two liked it!”

“But… ah… isn’t an entire apartment a bit too much?”

ZzzzzZttt

“Nonsense!” You protested with a kind smile, “The two of you were living in the slums, and that just wouldn’t do. Though I suppose, you’re here to ask me about that job, now, right?”

“I… Yes…. I wanted-”

ZzzzzZttt

… The table fell silent as you glared at the cell phone in your bag.

“You know that I don’t mind if you get that, right, Y/N?” McCullum cleared his throat, staring as you took the offending object out. “It must be important.”

With a grimace, you unlocked your phone to find several unread messages:

Wrench 2:30pm

>> Y/N. I know that you’ve been reading these. Answer me.

Wrench 2:32pm

>> Please? Answer something?

Wrench 2:35pm

>> I’m sorry, alright? I never should have doubted you. I shouldn’t have betrayed you.

Wrench 2:37pm

>> It’s not the same at DedSec without you.

Wrench 2:38pm

>> And you just disappeared from our radar like that.

Wrench 2:40pm

>> I never got to say goodbye to you.

Wrench 2:42pm

>> I wish we could try again.

Typing a quick reply and sending it, you quickly placed the phone down and went back to addressing McCullum. “Sorry for that. Anyways, while I did get rid of all the evidence concerning your involvement with Blume, you gave a bit of a shock when you requested your ideal job.”

McCullum leaned forward in his seat, his ice blue eyes holding all the seriousness that his being could muster. “I was serious, Y/N. I want to work for you.”

A grin crossed your face, and you nodded, clearly elated at the prospect of employing McCullum. “Tell me, McCullum. What do you know about CyberMasque?”

“At the end of my love, I finally see what I must do. I tried so desperately for you to see me as I saw you. I didn’t want to give up on you. But your words, your actions… that in the end, when all was said and done, nothing had changed in your stubborn heart. I know what I must do now.”

Y/N L/N (Me) 2:44pm

>> Let me go, Wrench. Forget about me. Move on.

Wrench 2:45pm

>> I don’t think I’ll ever.

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed my work, please consider buying me a Ko-fi!

#shianhygge #shian imagines #watch dogs 2 wrench #wrench imagine #reader x wrench #wrench x reader #wrench #watch dogs 2

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comeondowntosouthparkrpg-blog · 6 years ago

Text

Bradley Christian

out of character info

Name/Alias: Tots

Pronouns: she/her

Age: 19

Join Our Discord: yea why not lol mine is cursed bitch #0955

Timezone: EST

Activity: it honestly really depends- between 6-8 on a good day tho

Triggers: n/a

Password: Jimmy can fastpass my ass

Character that you’re applying for: Bradley(not THAT one. the one from season 11 episode 2 Cartman Sucks)

Favourite ships for your character: Bradley x Butters, Bradley x chemistry

in character info

Full name: Bradley David Christian

Birthday: December 25th

Sexuality, gender, pronouns: closeted homosexual, male, he/him

Age and grade: 18, senior

Appearance: Temporary face claim is Valter Torsleff. Bradley is a very nervous person and it shows in his nubby fingernails, in the way that his shirts are wrinkled from clutching at them, the dark circles under his eyes and the way they dart around. He’s tall but it’s difficult to tell from the way he hunches over in some attempt to try and hide himself. At his full height Bradley is six foot even. His body is pathetically scrawny making him look like you could easily snap him in two. Seriously, get this kid a fucking sandwich or something.

Bradley has pasty skin, blue-grey eyes and short curly golden blond hair that’s shaved at the sides. He’s always clean shaven and has a gaunt, oval shaped face with a pointy chin. He speaks quickly and mumbles frequently.

His clothing is well put together- mostly because his parents still choose his wardrobe for him. Button down shirts. Nice slacks and shoes. Business casual is the best way to describe his wardrobe. He has a few casual looking articles of clothing(t-shirts that are either plain or have some stupid cheesy christian slogan or a scripture on it, maybe cargo shorts or sweatpants) but he’s very seldom seen wearing these. Usually they’re reserved for when he’s lounging at home or if it’s a required part of a uniform.

Personality: Christianity is Bradley’s whole world. It’s what he sleeps, eats, drinks and breaths. He wants nothing more than for the holy spirit to get inside him( ;) ). He spends hours and hours pouring over the bible, devotionals and other forms of christian media to keep himself in check. Deep down however he’s disgusted by all this and loathes it all but his irrational fear of god and his parents keeps him going.

He’s an extraordinarily anxious and timid person with twitchy hands and is consistently easy to startle. He’s a closeted homosexual, having gone through conversion therapy and been considered cured. Bradley knows he’s gay and he hates this part of himself. He’s full of internalized homophobia. He’ll do whatever he has to in order to try and ‘fix’ this part of himself. So far nothing has worked.

Because of his heavy involvement with the church Bradley is repressed in the sense that he doesn’t know who he is or what he likes that isn’t involved with the church. Any hobbies he has, any personality traits, has to be somehow linked to christianity. It makes him a boring person since he has nothing else to talk about but God. He doesn’t know what else to talk about because he’s never been allowed to think about anything else. Because of this, most people brush him off and he’s used to that. However he has a hard time being as adamant to people about converting them then other people in his church, he’s more timid and is worried about upsetting other people.

History: Having grown up in a heavily conservative, christian home, Bradley David Christian has known nothing but religion his whole life. Within a week of his birth, he had gone to church for the first time and continued to go for the entirety of his life. His parents were completely and totally enthralled with christianity and wanted nothing more than for Bradley to be every bit as religious as them.

His relationship with his parents is… less than ideal to be putting it lightly. They’re controlling and invasive. They put everything under a microscope and leave him with little to no privacy. They choose his wardrobe, choose if he’s allowed to continue being friends with someone or not, go through his phone and social media accounts and so on and so forth. Bradley knows this isn’t normal but there isn’t really anything he can do about it seeing as he still lives with him and is too young to be on his own. So he just tries to appease them and keep them as happy as possible, working to be their wet dream of a child.

The church he went to was very conservative and pushed the ‘Fear the Lord’ mentality leading him to being constantly anxious about having any sort of sin weighing on his soul. The idea of hell is terrifying, and he would do anything to avoid being sent there. Convinced that the rapture could occur at any given moment he worked to have his soul constantly free of sin. His parents had successfully indoctrinated their son into their religion.

As Bradley grew older, he started to notice that he was developing an attraction to the same sex and that terrified him. He prayed to God to fix him and when that didn’t work, tried to hide it. But eventually his parents found out and sent him to Camp New Grace.

The camp didn’t change Bradley(There was a brief period of time where a certain boy with a cute smile and bubbly laugh that made him think maybe it was okay to be gay but that hope was quickly squashed). In fact it probably left him in a worse state than when he first entered. But he could certainly convince himself that it did. Thinking he was cured, he was sent home only to discover, much to his chagrin, that he was still plagued by these demons. But the very last thing that Bradley wanted was to be sent back to that place so from that day forwards he did everything in his power to hide and repress that part of himself. After all, Camp New Grace did always say that being straight, being NORMAL, was a choice. So he could just…. choose to be hetero. He would be his own accountabillibuddy and keep himself in check.

Bradley became an extremely active member of the church, had brief relationships with girls that always ended with frustration and tears, ran the christianity clubs at his school, maintained perfect grades and above all tried to keep his life as free from sin as possible. But deep down he still felt that gnawing guilt in his heart knowing that he really was. The reminder clung at the back of his mind like a tumor. Whispering to him that no matter what he did, he would never be rid of it. It kept him up at night, made his heart pound in his chest when the church talked about the sin that was homosexuality, made him sweat when he tried to deny just how much a boy’s laugh could make his stomach flip or a smile could make his face heat up. But if he could keep himself pure, maybe- just maybe God could overlook that and he wouldn’t be sent to burn in the fiery pits of hell.

A kid could hope.

Sample paragraph: A success story. That’s what they called him. A shining example of how homosexuality was a choice, that Bradley had been able to overcome his sinful urges and become a pure, gleaming light for the Lord Almighty.

The thought burned like acid in his throat, ate at his stomach, twisted his guts into painful knots. He was a liar and he knew it. He knew he was sinning every time his heart flipped when a handsome boy would call his name. Sinning when only thoughts of masculine voices could stir a fire in the pit of his stomach. Sinning every night when all he had was his own thoughts and fantasies.

It was ripping him apart, all the lies, the lust, the desires- he was an abomination wearing the skin of a holy man. Did that make him worse than the average sinner? He prayed, day and night, for forgiveness from a God he both feared and worshiped.

“Bradley, why don’t you share with the congregation how you were you able to overcome these desires?” the pastor asked, a smug gleam in his eye. Wasn’t pride a sin?

“W-well-” His hand twitched as Bradley had to remind himself to not lift his hand and chew at it. Instead he settled for rubbing the back of his neck, fingers catching on locks on the back of his head and anxiously tugging. Scriptures- scriptures- “As Matthew 26:41 says, ‘Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.’. So uh, I prayed. A lot. And the power of prayer… helped me overcome my temptations?"

The priest smiled like Bradley had gotten a correct answer on a test. His anxiety lessened for only a brief moment. The fear, the anxiety was always at the back of his mind. His hand pulled away from his hair to clutch tightly at his chair. This was humiliating. He didn’t want a soul to know about how he had struggled. How he was still struggling. But here Bradley was, in front of a group of kids lying to them about how they too could overcome temptations and sin to become pure in the eyes of God. He licked at his dry lips. “I’ve even uh, been able to have a few girlfriends.” His eyes darted at the kids and saw himself in their faces. “Anything is possible through the power of God.”

The way the priest smiled, his lips curling, made Bradley feel sick. Did he know what was going on in his head? Was he aware of the lies pouring from his lips or was he just proud of his ability to ‘fix’ people? Bradley wanted to vanish from here. Being near one of these conversion therapy places was the last thing he ever wanted but his parents insisted it would be ‘good’ for him to share his story. They’d arranged everything, written the emails for him and sent him here.

“Now, do you still experience those old…. Urges?”

Did the way his head shot up make him look guilty? “What? Uh- no- I mean uh-” Lying. He hated it. “Y-yeah. But I just pray to God in those moments. And he helps me.”

The priest’s face tightened, lips pressed into a thin line and a quick nod followed. Bradley felt like someone had stuck a knife into his stomach and twisted it. Should he have said something different? But the holy man laughed- “Well maybe you should come back and do our little program! Just kidding.” Bradley could taste metal in his mouth at the thought but forced out a laugh of his own.

“M-maybe!"

His limbs felt like tightly wound coils, ready to spring out of the chair and run from here. His muscles were tense and he couldn’t keep himself still. Hands gripping, twitching, leg bouncing, eyes darting. Did he look like a liar or just like someone with stage fright?

“Well, thank you for coming and speaking with us Bradley. God truly has blessed you.” Was it over? Relief washed over him. He smiled and lied once more.

“It was good to be here.”

Headcanons: nervous tick extraordinaire. He constantly tries(and fails) to break his finger biting habit through using fidget toys and fidgeting in other ways but always goes back to it. He has a tendency to pull at his hair as well as recite scriptures from the bible to keep himself in line. Part of why he’s so skinny is because he makes himself so nervous he gets sick and can’t eat or throws up whatever's in his stomach.

Anything else: I hope this meets the length requirements! Hope to hear from you dudes soon, constructive criticism is always welcomed and encouraged even if I’m not accepted!

#Bradley Christian #Alexis martin #Lexus Martin #application #Admin samantha #submission

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rolltidewrestlingfan4life · 6 years ago

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THIS IS VERY LONG AND VERY PERSONAL FOR ME. YOU MAY FIND IT AN ENJOYABLE STORY. I DID NOT PLAN TO WRITE A VIRTUAL NOVELLA BUT MY HEART AND SOUL STARTED POURING.

I didn’t do this back in February but this man deserves the mention and respect. This is the man that raised me. The man I idolize. He died February 5th as I was performing CPR on him or just before. I’m happy that he had a very quick and painless death that I believe he was expecting and prepared for. This man was born in New Hampshire and took a job in the 8th grade, he never returned to school and usually worked 2 jobs 6 days a week. His family moved back and forth between New Hampshire and Vermont. He got his first car when his brother’s car broke down, his brother traded him a 48 Ford for a bicycle.He loved riding his Indian motorcycle until a car slowed too fast in front of him and he collided and flew over the top of the car, miraculously his only injuries were cuts and knocked out teeth. In 1955, he made the decision to join the US Air Force.It would be the decision that triggered his destiny, After completing basic training he returned home to New Hampshire, gave his brother his air force ring as a momento (I have it now) and headed to Savannah Georgia where he was stationed.

431 miles away, in a booming coal mining town deep in the country of central Alabama, there lived a teenage girl in her senior year of high school. She didn’t really care for any of the boys in her town though she would “take them from their girlfriends to prove she could” She had an aunt and uncle that lived up in the big city in Birmingham, that is..until her Uncle joined the Army. Ironically, he was station in Savannah.

As fate would have it, the man from Alabama met the young man from New Hampshire and they became friends. One day there was a special event at the base where family was invited, the teenage girl came with her aunt to see her Uncle. In the cool twilight of the day the girl was walking outside when she saw a man sitting on a bench beneath an oak tree. The tree was huge,it had stood for many decades if not a century, the tree had wisdom in it’s soul. She stared at the young man in the distance. The sun was fading as swamp moss swayed in the breeze as the night began to overtake the day. She saw a flicker of light as the young man lit a Lucky Strike with his zippo. “he looks just like Elvis Presley” she thought. Something in the breeze made her sneeze, try as she might she could not hold it in. The young man turned at the sound and stopped in his tracks. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever saw and he had to meet her. He approached her and introduced himself, he was the young man from New Hampshire. They spent a lot of that night sitting under that mighty oak and talking about their pasts, their presents and their hopes for the future.

Not long after the meeting, the man was deployed to Morocco in North Africa. Morocco had been under French control and the locals were ready for a revolution. He was a photographer, after a battle between the rebels and the french, he would either sit on the edge or hang from a cord out of a helicopter and take photos of dead bodies, destroyed buildings. He saw a lot of things a man just don’t want to remember while he was in Africa. When he was being sent home, the airplane he was in lost an engine over the Bermuda triangle, the plane struggled but managed an emergency landing in the Virgin Islands.. after a day there, he was in the air bound for Savannah.

He was pleasantly surprised and happy to see the girl from Alabama waiting when he and his fellow soldiers stepped off the plane. They went to the movies that day. They would talk on the phone and write long love letters to one another almost daily. I have a shoebox full of these and they span a month, It was clear these two were smitten. One weekend, he decided he had to see her. He went AWOL on a Friday night and drove almost 7 hours through a state he had never seen, to a town he had never heard of. The young girl’s mother had heard about him and knew he was her brother in law’s friend, she also knew her daughter was crazy about him. She invited him in for supper and to talk and get to know the family. When bedtime came though, the young man was made to sleep on the porch. Going AWOL on weekends to spend days in her house and nights alone on her porch became a regular thing until finally, he showed up one weekend with a ring. A week later, they were married in a small church that her family had established decades ago, He was called up to serve in the Bay of Pigs but received his honorable discharge just a week before. He flew to New Hampshire and kissed his momma, got his dad’s guitar (the only thing he had left of his father) and wished his brothers and sisters well. He flew back to his new home and his new wife in Alabama. He opened his own photography studio but business was slow, there just wasn’t a demand for professional photography in this town. He took a job with the owner of a gas station/general store at the end of Main Street, he worked 6 days a week,, delivering items, repairing things and installing huge propane tanks. In 1959, he and his wife had their first child, a daughter. A little boy came in 1961. His father in law was an electrician at the huge hospital in Birmingham Alabama, he got the young man a job in the maintenance department.

He learned much working at the huge University Hospital, he learned about electricity, he learned HVAC, he learned plumbing. He watched and soaked in everything. He was a long way away from the burning corpses he photographed in Africa, or was he? September 15 1963 seemed a usual day at work. Even a slow day, He was working in the attic area of the hospital, running ductwork, secluded from people or news. Around noon he got a call to immediately go to the morgue and repair a broken light. When he got there he climbed his ladder and fixed the light. With the room now bright, he realized he had illuminated bad memories and new sorrow, as he climbed down the ladder he looked down upon the charred and burned bodies of four young innocent girls. One was completely decapitated, barely recognizable as a human, another had metal embedded in her head. He could not fathom what he was seeing, he did not know what he felt. He only knew his heart was broken. He found out later these girls were murdered. The church they were attending sunday school at was bombed, an act of racism in the deep south in 1963. He hated it. This man never liked seeing someone innocent hurt or suffer. He also never saw color, he saw people for being decent or not. He was a part of history that day, however small a part it may have been.

After 5 years of working at the huge hospital in the magic city, he was told of a new, smaller hospital being built. It was closer to home and they were paying more to attract employees. He started in maintenance and engineering the day they hospital opened in 1964. Two months later, the director of plant operations resigned, this position was 3rd in command of the whole hospital and responsible for overseeing engineering, maintenance, and security. At only 26 years old,he was shocked when the position was offered to him. He accepted without hesitation. He was a nervous wreck but it fueled him. His wife took a job at the same hospital.

In 1982, his first grandchild was born, His son had a daughter. A grandson followed in 1984. In 1989, his daughter had her only son. To the man, there was something different about this kid, maybe it was his father not being around, maybe it was fate but the man decided he would mold this kid and raise this kid. He was closer to this kid than the other grandchildren. He fell in love with that baby and as he grew that baby became a kid and loved that man too. From then on out, they were absolutely inseparable.. I am that kid. We would ride dirt roads while Alan Jackson or George Strait, George Jones and Merle Haggard blaring on the radio. I was always the flashlight man. Deep in a dark crawlspace holding it while he worked on electrical wires.. just as he did I was watching, I was learning, I was soaking in his knowledge like a sponge. We would ride the country roads on the weekend, stopping at every yardsale and junkyard we’d pass. Oh, how I loved when we’d burn brush or leaves and watch the fire. We’d go fishing and somehow there was always a venomous snake and he always killed it with a wooden handle floating fishing knife. I still have that knife today.

His father in law had passed in 1984 and his mother in law’s health was failing, His wife retired early from the hospital in 2001 to take care of her. Her aunt and the Uncle that had arranged their meeting way back in Savannah were also gravely ill, she moved them in too. He kept working at the hospital,He was the man that made that place run. His mother in law passed in late 2001. In 2003, her uncle passed away. It had come full circle. He had made it possible for them to meet and they had returned the favor by caring for him, her aunt followed him in death shortly after.

By this time, his granddaughter had two daughters and he and his wife had been through a lot caring for 3 bedridden people for 3 years. When he received word that the huge hospital in Birmingham he had left 40 years ago was taking over the hospital, he retired. For the next 19 years, It was yard sales, brush fires, and working on houses. I was grown but I was still a kid, still watching his every move, still his helper, still his flashlight man. In 2017, he suddenly grew weaker. He still worked and pushed himself as hard as he could but something was wrong. He knew it. He just didn’t know what. Through 2018 I became the main repairman, he just couldn’t do it anymore. His leg and back had great pain. He lit the pilot light with me and all but collapsed as we exited the basement. His legs had grown week and just gave out on him. Later that day I had to repair something in the attic, I will never forget him saying “I’m sorry, I’d help you if I could, I’d even just hold your flashlight but I gotta say in my chair right now, you know what you’re doing son.” Neither of us spoke it, but that was a powerful moment.. He had called me son. All of my life, I never saw him as my grandad, though I did call him Papa. I called him dad from that day forward. Later that year, I bought a fuel pump for his truck, I love that truck. I bought new tires and got it running. When he saw it running, he told me “You did a good job getting her going son, take care of YOUR truck.” He knew he had grown old, his memory had began failing, his legs weakening. He had passed his role as the fixer around three houses, and he had passed his truck to me.

Through 2018 most of our time together was spent in his den, him in his recliner, me on the couch, nana in hers. We watched NASCAR, we watched every Alabama football game together, when nana was gone.. me and Papa would watch reruns of Gunsmoke, and Mash. He passed out at a store in late 2018 and was admitted to the hospital, all the test revealed nothing wrong, they attributed the pain to a nerve. On February 4 2019, He really wanted a haircut to the point the barber had to stay late to wait for us. It was a 15 minute drive to the barbershop and he and I talked, we talked about memories, we talked about friends who had died, and family who had died. His memory was sharp as a tack that day. On the way home, I asked him why he was in such a hurry for a haircut.. He reached over and put his hand on my knee, gave me a gentle pat.. his eyes.. the same eyes that had seen dead bodies in Africa, burnt little girls dead in alabama, that had seen 60 years of a wonderful marriage, 2 children, 2 grandchildren and 4 great grandchildren, those same eyes looked at me. There was a focus yet a distance in them as he answered “I just felt like I needed to look good for tomorrow.”

The next morning, I woke up around 7 as usual and walked next door to their house, he wasn’t awake yet. He had started sleeping in, or just laying in the bed. It had gotten to where by the time he got up and got dressed, his legs were so weak he had to lay right back down. I got my coffee and visited with my grandmother a while and refilled my cup and went home. A couple hours later I had the strongest urge to go see him, as I got up I noticed my coffee cup was full. “He’s probably not up yet, I’ll wait until all my coffee is gone then I’ll see him.” That was a decision I will always regret.

Maybe 30 minutes later, As I was listening to the The Rolling Stones through my headphones, I heard the sound of my little cousin screaming. She was outside running toward my house just screaming help and crying at the top of her lungs. I ran outside and she yelled it’s papa. The whole world became a blur. I knew nothing. Nothing was familiar. It was so fast yet so slow. All I knew was I was me, and he was him. I loved him. He was my life and I was his. I had to get ti him. I ran faster than I ever dreamed I could, I didn’t even notice doors or steps.. Though I had to have somehow seen them. Everything was blur. I was here, he was there. It felt like an hour but it was really less than a minute. I got to him. There he was, laying on his back in front of his bedroom door. As soon as I saw him, his words about his haircut the day before played in my mind. I knew he was gone. He was my Papa, my dad, my friend, my teacher, my everything. I had to try and bring him back. I immediately started cpr. 911 advised me to do mouth to mouth as well, when I did, I tasted blood. I never stopped cpr. I knew je was gone. In that moment, his kid finally became a man. I felt different, I finally felt just like him. My Mind 2 months later is still in the floor with him. Today, I let that go. He would want me too. He would say sometimes, well we tried everything.. that thing just can’t be fixed. A couple nights ago I had a dream, so vivid. It was an exact replay. I was over his body desperately performing CPR, suddenly, in the dream.. he appeared and pulled me away from his own body. It was clear this was his spirit as he put his arm around me and hugged me and said “It just gave out on me, you tried everything, that old thing just couldn’t be fixed.” He lived an amazing life. The world will not remember nor remark him but today I celebrate him. I celebrate him for going from an 8th grade education to an air force photographer to spending 40 years as director of engineering at a hospital. I celebrate him for being a rock who always helped his family or those in need. I celebrate him for picking me. It’s no secret I was his favorite. He never tried to hide it, not to spite the others. This man loved all of his grandchildren equally.. There was just something different with me. It was like we were twins. We were just inseparable. I write all this to celebrate him and to let him go. My mind must stop trying to bring him back. He lived his life and he is now free from pain and a failing body. He is learning all the mysteries, he is getting all the answers so that he can teach me when I get there. I love you so much Papa, your soul is in heaven, but your spirit is in me. I see you in my eyes, I wear your belt buckle and I use your tools. I drive our truck. Your fingerprints are everywhere. It’s okay that you’re not here in your body. You’ve left a mark on everything. You will always be alive in us. I wish you had lived until I had children, I know you liked the young lady I wish would be mine.I can’t wait until I do have children and I can tell and show them all about their amazing Papa.

Heaven needed a jack of all trades engineer, they got you. Have fun up there, I’ve got it down here, I learned from the best and you taught me well. I will take care of nana, the houses and the rest of the family and hopefully one day I’ll do what you did and move and marry the girl of my dreams. I hope you get to watch my life from up there, and I hope I make you proud.

-JLM

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lydixa-petal · 6 years ago

Link

First chapter is up of The Bond of a Soulmate, (doubt the name will stay)

Click above for the link to Ao3, but you can also read below.

Warnings - A little bullying to begin with? and loneliness?

Word Count - 1815

He was a young boy when his hope began to dwindle away. About 6 or 7, he doesn't remember, when his father died, and his future became the throne.

The marks on his body had flickered for the first time in his life. He had until the end of high school, then his life would be hell. He remembers the purple of his oversized patchwork hoodie and the blurred faces of people, all he could see was the clarity of their eyes, filled with pity and sympathy. His young mind couldn't comprehend the eyes and their tears but only that his dad had left, left them forever for a place his mother had called heaven. Virgil had spent more time alone that he had done in a long time and it’s not because he was grieving, he was being shielded from something, someone by his mother.

The marks flickered again when he turned 9, Virgil's 9th birthday, surrounded by his closest friends when a mysterious woman appeared in the door way of his home. His mother had rushed forward and pushed her back out of the door before she slammed the door behind them both leaving the kids in silence and Virgil could feel himself caving in on himself. Darren took this opportunity to take over and fill the silence, recommending that they play 'Hide and Seek', he volunteered himself to seek for the first round.

The rest of the kids scrambled away as the voices on the other side of the door grew louder, Virgil curling in on himself didn't flinch away when Darren placed a hand on his jeans. He looked up and faced his best friend who offered a small smile as if to ask, 'Are you okay?' Virgil pulled his hood down as he looks up at his friend, the tattoo that coated his neck flickering slightly as he gave a small nod and ran off to hide.

It happened again when he met his Grandmother approximately 2 years later, a Queen from a distant country who told him about his future, that was out of his own reach. He was told about the ceremony he would have to go through, once he was of age and the changes he would have to get through. As his hope slipped once more, his thoughts switched as he struggled to understand her words. His soulmate... would they abide by the rules, even if he didn't want to be a part of this, would they stay with him?

He looked down to watch the midnight colour flicker again, the pale skin replacing the pattern and he felt his heart begin to shatter, his hope flickered away and didn't return as he listened to the woman, he was told was his grandmother. He felt his hand clench as she explained the situation, laws and rules he would have to follow until he became the King of this small country that he didn’t even know existed.

The mark didn’t return after that day.

<3 Soulmates <3

He had forgotten about the mark for a long time. Once he had noticed that the mark was missing, he had done as much research as possible, he found study’s about disappearing marks and what they meant.

‘The disappearance of a soul mark can mean the death of the soulmate.”

But he never dwelled on it again, he hadn’t bothered to read on, he figured his soulmate had died and the little hope that had remained for happiness in his future disappeared immediately.

When he turned 12, he had a huge argument with Darren, in front of the entire school. Virgil had caved in on himself as Darren yelled, kids around them laughing as Darren stepped forward and punched Virgil across the cheek, and his already shaking knees gave out from underneath him as the world tipped. The concrete floor came closer as he threw his hands out to catch himself scraping his palms on the surface. Another blow came to his stomach as he breathed heavily as he struggled to control his thoughts, he winced and let out a groan. The laughter became toxic and it filled him as the insults kept coming, Virgil took blow after blow as he curled up on the floor, his hands holding his head carefully.

At long last, the hits stopped as the bell rang out loudly, kids running back into class as Virgil took his time unravelling himself. He sprawled out on the stone floor as rain began to fall from the sky, dampening his oversized hoodie as the tears ran down his face, pouring over his bruising cheeks and into his hair. He’d lost is only friend in a matter of seconds, and now he was alone.

From that day on the words were engraved into his head, soulless, and his confidence plummeted he had figured that he could be a nobody, have no friends, until he graduated high school, then he would be shipped off to the small country and become King. That didn’t happen in the end though during tenth grade he had joined a theatre group as a tech guy to pass some extra time, he had met a person called Roman, an actor apart of the group, in fact the lead in the upcoming show.

He was loud and passionate, but he had been careful when first talking to Virgil, which he had stated was because he seemed like he would break anytime anyone came over to talk. Roman had explained how he had wished to talk to everyone apart of their group and make as many friends as possible. Virgil had apologised for not speaking up earlier, and introduced himself, Roman had cut him off, “I know, we have English and Chemistry together.”

How had he missed that?

Had distancing himself from others really resulted in ignoring everything and everyone around him?

They had become friends relatively quickly from that moment on, Roman always careful when he talked to Virgil but sometimes, he would be too much. They had come good enough friends for Roman to invite him to sit with his group of friends at lunch because Roman had notice that Virgil continuously sat alone, in both classes and lunch. “You’re always alone, Virge! Come and sit with me and my friends!” He had been using the same argument for the last few weeks, and he couldn’t deny it. He was always alone.

He had decided that ignoring Roman was useless and agreed to go after weeks of asking, and he met Patton and Logan there. Logan and Patton, two soulmates but also opposites that somehow made their relationship work. “It’s great to meet you, Kiddo! Roman has told us all about you!” Patton had given a bright smile and Logan offered a quick nod.

“Salutations, Virgil.” Logan had said, extending his hand for Virgil to take, which he shook carefully, he was sure his hand was shaking, “My name is Logan, and as he forgot to introduce himself, this is Patton.” Logan gestured to himself and then Patton who beamed and waved.

“I’m usually apart of the performance for the theatre group as well, but this term I decided to help Logan in the student council instead.” Patton explained to Virgil as they began to eat, “I’m glad you finally chose to join us at lunch, Roman said it had taken him ages to convince you.” Virgil gave Patton a startled look, and Patton gave a smile in return, “He talks very highly of you, Kiddo.”

A ghost of a smile appeared on Virgil’s face, he looked up at Roman and then turned back to Patton who was giving him a knowing smile. “Maybe.... don’t we have pre-calc together? I can walk with you and we can sit together if you’d like?” Virgil felt his eyes widen slightly.

“Yea... yeah, ok.” He said quietly, before Logan also joined the conversation, cut in. “We also have Modern History, Physics and Social Science together, if you’d like Virgil, we can all sit with you during class since it seems you sit alone most of the time.” Virgil gave a small nod, he’d like that.

That’s how Virgil made friends for the first time in years.

<3 Soulmates <3

Virgil felt himself smirk as he walked out of Physics with Logan, talking about Doctor Who, which Virgil had found out they had both had a love for. They met with Roman and Patton at the doors of the school and wondered out of the busy corridors and onto the busy street, where they all got into Roman’s car. Roman drove, “I don’t want any of you to crash my beautiful car”, and although they had all given an eye roll, except Patton, who smiled, at his comment they all got into the car without protest and they went to a small café, which they visited commonly after school for drinks.

By the time they had arrived, Roman and Virgil were discussing the up coming Spring Musical and Logan and Patton were having a quiet debate in the back two seats, about whether Doctor Who or Star Wars were better. When they pulled up and Roman parked his car, they got out, Logan carrying his Physics book with him to study as usual, the debate continuing as they walked up to the counter of the small café and ordered their drinks and some small deserts. When they were seated in their booth by the window Logan turned to Virgil cutting Patton off, “Virgil.” Logan had said with quick urgency, making him jump and turn to Logan and Patton who had sat on the other side of the booth to himself and Roman.

“We were talking about this earlier, which is better Doctor Who or Star Wars?” He said, making Virgil and Roman share a look of amusement before Virgil turned back to Logan.

“I, uh, don’t have a preference, I think they are both pretty good.” He had said, smirking as Logan’s face dropped.

“You wanna know what’s really good though?” Roman had said, jumping into the conversation as one of the workers came over with their orders, putting each drink and desert in front of their respective person.

“Game of Thrones.” Roman and Virgil said together with a smirk, sharing a glance. Patton and Logan groaned, their soul marks glowing brightly as Patton brought his White-Hot Chocolate closer to his face and taking a sip. Both Roman and Virgil heard the quiet mumble of ‘not this again,’ making them both laugh quietly together as they both began to chat about where Virgil was currently in the story and how far ahead Roman was already, even though they both started at the same time.

His world had become a lot brighter with them around, little did he know, the forgotten fact would catch up to him soon enough.

let me know if you want to be tagged?

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #sander #logan sanders #roman sanders #ts virgil #ts roman #ts deceit #ts deciet #ts logic #ts logan #ts patton #ts morality #logicality #prinxiety #roman x virgil #virgil x roman #patton x logan #logan x patton

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dahmer · 6 years ago

Text

oh pi! at es. ples. ples.

Oh! just, subtle, and mighty opium! that to the hearts of poor and rich alike, for the wounds that will never heal, and for 'the pangs that tempt the spirit to rebel,' bringest an assuaging balm; eloquent opium! that with thy potent rhetoric stealest away the purposes of wrath; and to the guilty man, for one night givest back the hopes of his youth, and hands washed pure of blood.... qtd // thomas de Quincey // Confessions of an English Opium Eater

here’s a man, once ill-tempered of turks and trendsetting vices, speaking to the grand stage of the world fashioned in this season’s epide-mock. a warm, fuzzy coatish wear nestled in the covers. small american towns know these styles too well to count body bags, along cotton pads and china scabs, among mother’s basements and luxury high risers graduating all from the fancy-feels certificate of blues. those roxy pebbles, how they start us so--an endless invitation to long summer warmth that childhood bathtubs and lawn-mower sundays would once bring.

when did the foil side decision set in. was there truly a technique to not waste the evaporated smoke, or just somedaze endless-ego-talk of the mighty soldiers in the opium army of guilt. shame, yes sir! solute to toot, scrap the straw edges as the hours pass waiting for the guy with the goods. were you in california when fent came along, past the liquid patch of time-released days. the recents 16s, 17s, two thousands eighteens. labs grade, synthesizing variations to parade as china. “east coast man, east coast shit. it’s the best ever. no, nah nah bro, i got you. bud took one point, was on his ass for hours. nod on fire.”

did chemists know the china rhetoric will turn fent-for-all. markets of east coast fantasies, oblivious to west coast privileges. of potency. of people. of starry nights in smashing pumpkin music video dreams, riding through hollywood as a secret member of the powder variety. it’s a plague paraded as a epidemic because that word has no world of meaning to the good folk playing their igno-rent; recycling stigmas of junky choice rattling thrillists. despite the proof inside the bottles. the truth in every bottle. in every cabinet. of every person. with every doctor. who ever felt. the normalcy sensation of one of the most blanked words: pain.

pain is surely what that just, subtle, and mighty opium! creates in the hearts of the poor and rich alike. the rich die often in the experimentation state of emergency someone labeled as ‘the opioid problem’--problem? oh lily, you know as much as your wilted leaves and neighboring trees the silly stamp we slap when using ‘problem’ to critically deconstruct something magnificently complex.this ‘problem’ has destroyed empires for centuries. it’s notorious and makes no attempt to conceal its power in narrative recollections of the living authors that have spoke the truths of humanity across language, land, and lives. yet big pharma pulled off opana and roxicodone in the last 20 years. if there’s any declaration of the fools ruling the castle in modern times, this must be the great exemplary act. the profit of pain, oh yawn. i’m sure the academic discourse that has capture this best is brilliant it construction and nature, but what difference does it make in an opiated masses?

i’ve not canceled my subscriptions to the periodical dual tragedies of the early 21st century, as they remain unchanged and unchallenged: (1) a sheer lack of empathy in the common man; (2) the curious and devastating complacency and lack of outrage to what seems to unfold before our eyes, rapidly and carelessly so now that it’s almost as if those navigating the unseen lines of powers that be mock us, appropriately so. if we’re no opiated, we’re not outrage or active either. generalization? yes. but for those who fall outside of this, fight causes that continually reveal themselves as premeditated chess pieces in the political playing field that has seep into dominating the social sphere that delivers use a constantly-running facet of media and targeted, privatized ads.

i am an addict.

i can clean. M knows. some family knows. the weight that has been lifted is ineffably enduring. i’m frustrated, naturally, at the golden years missed. the creativity, the goodness of my heart, kindness of soul, charity, intellectual ability, sincerity, and passionate interests. how they dulled and disappeared. the weight of their reappearance should be the least of my worries, and for now have been. i’m only a week into my methadone treatment program. but my partner knows now. and that was the missing link, that was needed for so long. he left. i stay in the apartment alone. had the worst week. four days into starting treatment, i get arrested on a fix-it ticket that never was completely closed in a difference country because the DMV didn’t inform the courthouse I’ve squared everything away. I was given a new court date to bring this documentation in myself after final payments were made and the matter seemed settled. but the letter was sent to my old apartment, so i was completely unaware a warrant in los angeles was issued. a few short blocks away from my new apartment in newport beach, where M returned for the first time since walking in on me and learning of the addiction that exposure so much (that was the most bittersweet, hard, important, thankful, and devastating night of my life--but revitalizing. I never realize how much everything rested on just M being told or finding out.). I’m almost home, about to see it, sirens go on. get pulled over. second car arrives. i’m in cuffs. call my works, and text M to say I wouldn’t be coming home to give him space.

at this point, i was told i would be transferred to LA that night, and see a judge in the morning. have everything taken care of. but orange county SA jail is notorious for lies and abuse. there was no intentions of this, and i went from holding cell to orange jumpsuit soon enough. smart this time, i disclosed my sexuality. was given a special block, with an actual two-person jail cell. like the movies. my cell mate was great. jason ciega. curious sexuality. talked heavily about girlfriends, but made subtle jokes that went: “when you’re expecting pussy, but life gives ya dick... but hey, there’s nothing wrong with that too.” He vaguely mentioned his sexuality was “whatever”--I respected and explained why I identify as queer. i have some hidden white china fent mix left i snuck in, even after the cavity search. I stressed needing the bathroom for diarrhea, in fear of the 4-6 gram rocks being found. they kept stressing if i had drugs, it would be another charge. but with my profession work title, they didn’t really consider that with me. i hated that i had to use again so early in treatment, but this avoided the sickness. and made me sleep through the day and a half before M bailed me out. when i got celled up with jason, he shared his rations he bought, like cookies and stuff. i shared my china, in very small doses. he still O.D.’d. turned blue and purple, unconscious, eyes behind head. he took off his shirt after sniffing the first baby bit. i snorted probably 30x what he did, and barely felt something, tolerance. his speck had him worried after 5 mins. “I don’t feel it”

I tell him it wait another 5-10 mins at least. he starts ripping up my mattress and sheet to make a pillow and bedsheet. at first i’m scared this would cause the jail keeper to punish or abuse me. i saw it happened. beds are supposed to be returned in the form they were given. but the special blocks for “protective custody” and queers were treated with more respect, out of fear I assume. The regular jail area is a massive shared space with dozens of rows of beds, and people organized and grouped by race and gangs that you must join right away. I was glad I didn’t have to endure that. I did briefly at 19 for an alcohol in public ticket. only spent 4-6 hours in actual jail-orange-suits area after 10-15 hours of hold cells then. realized how racially divided even jails were. but this experience was more pleasant, given the circumstances. before jason began nodding out, he was fun and talkative in an enjoyable well. he revealed a great chest and body--small frame, but bulky build with tattoos. an insecure boy turn nice guy that acts like one of the guys. referenced odd jokes that seemed code for him being a bottom, and wanting sexual companionship if we ended up bunking for awhile. mutual only, of course. i laughed these attempts off. jason was lonely, and i wasn’t there for inmate sex. i’m in love with M, and still spent every moment worrying and texting about him, and what i’ve done to him. how little he knows about this addiction, how much his family might enable him to think narrowly or ignorantly about the realities of this as a disease.

M abandoned me the day I began treated, 2 mornings after he caught me and everything in our lives froze. we sat on the bed that night, side by side, for hours. him crying in his hands mostly, for hours. me frozen in a wave of emotions. i was a fault. i was honest and told him everything. this was the only thing i kept from him, and told him why. the shame, the guilt. the fear. losing him. rejection of me, disposal of my efforts and love from him and his family. he said we needed time apart. i begged him to be there for me, no matter what the outcome was of our relationship, at least in the beginning. knowing this is the most crucial time to have a support system. he expressed things like believing I’ve just been high this whole time, and asked questions that extracted as much shame and guilt as possible. he had every right to. it’s all i’ve see him and his twin ever do. to the point of their older brother needing serious psychological helping, crying out literally shouting how suicidal he is, but they fail to understand how mental health works, how humor and jokes are masks that should be taken seriously. M was hurt most that I lied. I did lie. Not directly, but did lie at times when he asked why i was in the bathroom for so long. It was unspoken, so it didn’t feel like lying. More like protecting, but it was lying. And I will forever be in the wrong.

Going to jail may have ruined any chance of him coming back. And I can’t stand that thought. He doesn’t know what I’ve been going through. How long it took to be honest about my addiction, what steps I took to try to get clean on my own, the lies you convince yourself off--that you can do it alone, that it’ll work out, that you’ll run out of money so you’ll have to stop. My only other treatment attempt told me I must tell M. He’s the closest to me that I love and trust, who is a good influence, not a user, and could be my support system that sees me through this, and can monitor me during the first 3-7 days that are most crucial. M mentioned how he could have come home to find me dead. O.D. we watched docs and podcasts on the epidemic, but they don’t go into how hard this experience is. How withdrawal is considered one of the hardest things a human can possible do in life, and takes incredible amounts of courage, strength, and dedication that M will probably never even experience in his life. The reports just assume people know this stuff. And under-represent who is most likely to O.D. I’ve never come close. I haven’t been high in, years. I used to stay normal. M, and others like him--those who don’t know--don’t understand that. I was never chasing the dragon. I hate the addiction, quickly. I was too smart for it. Too focused and dedicated to have this problem.

But I did, and unless I dose a certain amount, I couldn’t function. Bedridden in the worst sickness imaginable. To those who’ve experience withdrawal, it’s not just the constant, non-stop, extreme physical sickness. It’s the relentless psychological sickness. Torture. That doesn’t even given you a 30 second break. Hearing that your sick for 3-5 days might sound easy because we call it “getting sick” or “dope sick”--but it’s a far worse experience that can even be fatal for some. My finances and lack of wanting to be doped out, nodding and unproductive all day luckily allowed my addiction to plateau at taking a certain amount to stay well, and doing that everyday for over a year. Til I was caught. It would slightly increase, but fluctuate, based on product, potency, and source going around. I never shot. Only snorted, that was my ritual. And when I was stupid, I would smoke. It was a waste, that burned through product much faster. Which meant more money and time dedicated to staying well. The consistent tolerance and dosing makes my chances of O.D’ing incredibly low. If M knew me as an addiction, which he couldn’t--I never disclosed--he’d know this was hell. Torture. Something I spent endless nights up all night wishing, hoping, begging for change.

The fright came from the Friday I got into a detox treatment program. I told him two nights before I needed him for supported. He made a sly remark about “what, you’re going to force me to stay around or you’ll OD and die if I don’t”--but it was among other things, so it was unclear what would happened. And days past, with little words exchanged, but M stayed around. When he returned from work, I was in bed and he has if I stayed treatment. I said yes, but didn’t explain or speak confidently out of fear of him not knowing what these treatments were, how much research I’ve done, how I picked this on purpose with a goal to get off treatment drugs soon too and never be dependent on a substance. He didn’t ask much questions. He shortly said it’s good, then revealed he’s packing up and staying at this parents for the weekend. I froze in silence. He packed and said some of the same narrowed perspective claims from the other night--how my sibling and her spouse are there to help me. M thinks because they’ve both been in AA, and one is an ex-heroin addict in healthy, long-term recovery that they can just drop their full time college, 3 jobs, and toddler to take care of me. They’re wonderful support systems, but the detox clinic described who needs to be around the first 3 days for my outpatient detox, and it perfectly defined M.

But I must respect M’s decisions, feelings, angry, and pain. He has his own healing to do. All I said was that I need support more now than ever, so please don’t forget me. This was in response to him saying I could always call him if I needed something--which was worded in a way that read like ‘call in emergencies, but I’m out.’ So I went through it alone, all 3 days. In bed. I called a friend for xanax, even though you have to be very very careful taking both. I was, and needed to sleep if no one would be there to check on me. At this time, I thought either M felt his hurt and pain outweighed what I was going through, and that’s understandable regardless of my experience actually being a life-threatening disorder. What I wish he knew was that most people who O.D.--the ones on the news all the time. It’s most from relapse. Stopping, detoxing, getting clean. Then a trigger happens, or hope gives up, opportunity comes, or you feel alone and no one cares. Whatever the reason, you return to the drug and take a similar dose, or even smaller dose, than what you were doing before. But your tolerance fades as quickly as it builds, and is different for everything. So most O.D. deaths are simply from people relapsing and taking too much without knowing where their new tolerance stands. Any temptation or relapse could be my last breathe.

I still live in that fear, but I’m motivated and happy to finally get clean. It’s all I wanted, I just couldn’t do it alone. And knew this. The summer realized it most. I spent the summer trying to find the right time and opportunity to tell M. He has no idea how many plans and times and moments I wanted to. Even my trip to NYC. I wanted t come back clean so bad. It doesn’t work that way, You need those in your life who support and love you to help. That’s what a relationship is. It’s like if I was diagnosed with cancer. But social misconception and outdated conception allows this opposite, toxic reaction. Where now I exist in this constant mental cycle that centers on figuring out what to do for M. It would hurt my sister, so that would be my biggest regret, but I think M wants a gift from me more than anything; however, knowing him well, he’d never ask. If I just gave it to him, he’d be free. No more doubts or embarrassments or beating himself up about not knowing or what others would think. No more hating and shaming me. He wouldn’t ever have to deal with it, which is what I realize he wants in life. Where we disagree. I can’t play video games and ignore maintaining healthy efforts all day. He’s made great improvements, but blind to others that allowed him to say hurtful things like without even consciousness of it, but would be shocked and hurt if someone said the same back to him. This created a state where if anything that required him to get up from playing video games in his ‘free time’ (non work hours) is a drag that he resents or avoids at all costs. It cost the friendships built between my closest friends, who love him and he claimed to love them. This constant thread was something I battled with most. I would count the weekends I would spend doing whatever he wanted--hanging with siblings, friends, work functions, friends parties. 11 weekends go by, then one movie night with my friends and he wouldn’t even pretend to want to go. It hurt, but I learned other people’s needs are an annoyance or deterrent to his rightful ability to be glued to the computer. I know this was a big factor in never bringing up my addiction. Already he hated any serious conversations, even if I tried to make them positive about reaching goals. Even mentioning one would cause eye rolls and audible disgusts, vocalizing how he just doesn’t like them or “aren’t good at them”--which never made sense to me. I understand he didn’t like to have conversations that implied he’s less than perfect or right, but it creates this wall around you where no one will ever be able to grow or talk or really improvement your or our lives together. I didn’t think much of it. But now that I’m learning my triggers, I’m not blaming M. It will always be me. But I regret starting to pick up his habits in attempts to try and connect more with him, and be closer. I started playing video games more and more, and all my interests disappeared. There was never a time I played video games that didn’t require going to the bathroom and dosing. I couldn’t live that life. But I wanted to build a life with M. When he stopped talking an interests in sharing my activities, I doubled down with his. But things that felt non-productive and antisocial to me became triggers.

There are other issues that caused distance and perhaps his lack of interest or investment in my friends and desires. One, my addiction. Where my interests began to dull. A terrible cycle that grows like a fungus, and can stem from one activity to get closer, but affect another. Also, I gained a considerable amount of weight. This was before my addiction started, but at a time that M became less physical. Then associated it with my weight gain. This was always curious. All compliments, words of encouragement, positive reinforcement, or sexual intimacy ceased, yet I was expected to work harder on health. I should have, but I never went a period of my sexual life where exercise and health were part of my routine because it continued my ability to have a sexual life. In a serious relationship, taking this element away makes it hard to understand how or if anything would restore such intimacy sense there’s no expression, communication, or honesty from M. Just gestures and small hints. He experienced some weight gained, and when he finally got a job after college--after 8 months of playing video games all day as I worked 2-3 jobs 6 days a week plus went to the gym, cleaned the house, and made dinner most nights for him and our roommate--he took up the gym and has done a great job focusing on getting in shape. I expressed this once, and it was something that was some important and meaningful because it consumed by consciousness, but I still wonder a year later if he understood or truly took to heart pointing out that when he got a full time, professional job and began working out after work, he came home daily needing positive reinforcement, acknowledgement, and encouragement about his gym efforts. Even in the early stages when not much can be seen.

I expressed that before grad school, when I really gained the weight from the stress and demands, I too signed up for the gym after my first, full time professional job after college. On top of this, I continued working on Sundays at a restaurant doing back-breaking labor I underplayed because tips were good. My one day off--Saturdays--I spent putting our first apartment together, shopping, planning, going to every family event or friend invite he extended, while keeping up with cooking and cleaning. During this time, M never acknowledged my gym efforts, progress, or work. I think once he complimented me in a tank, but apart from that, I believe he saw that this was just my role. Expected and easy, like it was nothing to essentially try my best to be the best version of myself, be the best boyfriend I could be, build a relationship together, and not ask for anything in return. This felt like my nature, so I didn’t think much of it at the time.

It wasn’t until I started grad school, and he began what I had already gone through: entry level at first professional job. I don’t know why I’m writing about it now, but it hurt he was doing it in a way that made it seem I had no idea what this was like because of my current shape, and my support was expected, not appreciated. M has never been too expressive, but any acknowledgement or encouragement while attending Gold’s gym after work each day in DTLB would have done so much for my self-esteem, our intimacy, his care and support, or just mutual respect I guess when the tables turned later. I still continue to compliment and support. But the thought is always there. What is it about me and what I do, the effort I put in, that seems just expected. Demanded. Not a privilege or sign of care, affection, and love. But “do your damn job”--but then anyone who does the same or a fraction of the same things has the right to guilt or shame me in not being supportive or caring enough. Why do I just exist to replace the role of M’s parents, perhaps, but my efforts aren’t even acknowledged to the same degree in how M views what his parents do.

The shortcomings are what he’s most expressive about. Like I have a savings account like him, and just not paying for things I literally cannot. I didn’t have my parents pay for college, a car, half my rent, bills, and little things in life M takes for granted. I pay for everything. And even having one or two things taken care of by parents allow young adults to live remarkably more comfortable lives that they’re blind to. They don’t understand the luxury of saving every paycheck because their parents pay for everything else. Or maybe it’s me, and my fault for having interests, and occasionally spending money on exploring interests to acculturate my life. Understanding myself, people, and culture better. Be a strong global citizen,

I don’t know. A lot of these claims are unfair to M. He avoids serious conversations, but most of this has come up. It’s just been treated with silence. When he caught my addiction last week, he kept repeating how hurt he was that I lied about it. He’s right, but I couldn’t shake the feeling... when would I ever been able to tell you and you wouldn’t act this way? Was there a time limit when you would have been supportive? Where you would have stayed and ensured I didn’t die during the most crucial period? Would there ever been a time that you didn’t just dismiss it as all my fault, so shame and guilt are the only things I’ll get from him while I need to seek treatment options on my own. That’s not how treatment works. In everything I’ve read, it says the same thing. This is a family problem. You need support. Loved ones. Care. Compassionate. Understanding. If these were never things that would have been offered, why is the main drive of pain from me lying? I did lie, so that’s valid. But it hurts because I don’t know how he truly feels, and sometimes it just goes through my head that this is the reason he’s been waiting for. I haven’t lied or cheated or hid other things. I’ve talked to other guys online, but came clean when caught. And that did hurt trust between us. But I never lied or hid something when we talked about it.

I write all of this because last night he texted me asking to meeting up this weekend to talk. I get excited because it means, after a week, maybe he wants to just sit and ask questions or express anger or frustrations or what’s on his mind. I send him my availability all weekend, with details. He takes hours to respond, but around 2am he says he’s free Saturday and Sunday. This is Friday night, and I see he’s at someone’s house--probably a party--that I didn’t know of. So maybe he’s drunk, but oddly he responded to my availability with just saying he’s free Sat and Sun--not setting a day or time to meet and talk. I don’t respond. It’s late and he says he’s out with friends since I mentioned I was even free that night back when I responded at 9pm when he first asked if I was free to meet and talk this weekend.

Today the morning goes by and I don’t hear from him, but he sent the last text. S at Noon I ask: “do you want me to pick a date and time then?” No answer.

A couple hours later I tell him I’m going to the gym later, and an NA meeting the next day (Sunday) if he wants to join me at either of those for an alternative meet up option--hopefully implying if he doesn’t want to just chat face-to-face, we can do something healthy that shows him I’m working hard in recovery. No response.

Both texts show read receipts. He read that right away, and Find My Friends shows he’s still just at his parents house. Been there all day, but ignoring my texts. Perhaps he was drunk when he texted me Friday night saying he wanted to meet up. I ran with it too quickly then because I miss him like crazy, worry about it, and just think about him and this situation constantly. Plus he bailed me out of jail for $5K of his own money this week on top of all of this, and that’s the last I saw him.

As the day progresses, it starts to dawn on me. Most of his stuff is still at our apartment. We still live here in how it’s set up, and how he’s briefly used it this week. But he’s mostly stayed at his parents, which is understandable since he needs time to figure out how to make sense of this or what to think... which is how I believe he worded it when he left the day I started detox. I think he said “because he feels conflicted.”

But if his stuff is still here, and he knows my schedule, and I know his, he knows we’re both mostly free Saturdays and Sundays. So he could come home either day and sit down to talk when he sees I’m home, Granted, he hasn’t asked about how recovery or detox is going, or shown interest in caring about how I’m doing. He’s not there, and clearly I’m in a state where I agree in the sense that I worry about him most. He doesn’t express his feelings, and this is not something he can just avoid or pretend to go away. He needs to face it. But then I realize what “we need to meet up and talk” means in a relationship after a major issue happens, and one person moves out for a week, leaving the status open-ended, stating we need time apart, and then gets stuck paying $5k while trying to distance (on top of all the money I own him for rent and impound fees last summer). This talk usually means one thing, and I start to panic. Even more so because he’s dodging my texts to follow up about setting a meeting time and date. If M had the liquid courage to ask, but not is faced with following through sober, it would be like him to just ignore me. And he’s definitely ignoring me. Maybe because he just wants me to suffer or leave him alone. But my fear and anxiety has skyrocketed since last night. I’m consumed in fear with the idea that he’s wanting to meet up to end our relationship. I would understand why, but I realize, despite everything, I really really am in love with Michael. My addiction made me not a great boyfriend to look at or be around I’m sure, but I’m confident the person I’m returning to now that I’m free and in recovery is someone that he would benefit from growing with. Many also have expressed they think this process will help M in the long run too, as things became static and this may needed to happen to reevaluate things and take us to the new heights we wanted and deserve.

M would have a hard time standing up for himself and dumping me, so when I was asking him if I should set the date and time, I starting thinking.. am I actually having to plan getting dumped for him? That’s not fair. This is the most emotional fragile state I’ve ever been in, and although he has every right to make that decision, and reasons to back it up, and not care about actually exercising real support that couples give each other, that’s fine. I would have to just respect the decision. I fucked up. And I knew who M was before we started dating. I just always think.. is he going to find someone else who doesn’t care about wanting basic needs and emotions and thoughts exchanged, shared, and supporting in a relationship? Abandon me, but that wouldn’t make these issues go away. Anyways, no one around him can offer me insight to his state of mind. So I fear the most devastating and hurtful decision and experience of my life is around the corner. Maybe even tomorrow. And despite our lease tomorrow until April, and the life we built together, M may just walk away from it all. Claiming he can’t trust me anymore as the main reason. And that trust is solely from hiding my addiction. Something I see now, given his reaction, why I did.

Jonathon Van Ness, in a recent podcast “Getting Curious” with an addiction specialist at UCLA discusses shame in addiction, and defines it as this idea where “if you knew this one thing about me, you wouldn’t love me anymore.” This definition makes a lot of sense, as to why I could never tell M. If he knew, I would lose his love. And his love was holding me together, and giving me hope that someday I can fix this, overcome this, get help, get better, get fit, be the best version of myself again and beyond.

But now I just wait by my phone, wondering if I should send a 3rd text. The last one was around 3pm, when my day was freeing up for the rest of the weekend. So he could have arranged to meet at any time. Maybe inviting him to the gym or a meeting was too off-putting--like i WANTED that or something. But I just want to give options since just asking for a basic plan yielded no results. I don’t know if I should leave him alone. If he needs more time. If I push, I push him farther away. Or if ignoring makes me feel insecure and think I don’t care or think about him. That I just think about using again or getting clean, and he’s not longer important. This is farthest from the truth. All I want is to not fall asleep alone in bed anymore. I want M back by my side, cuddling me and us to sleep. But even then, I fear or believe that M doesn’t feel he can do that and feel safe or comfortable anymore, even though I think he wants this again too. But the trust that’s missing is something that will come in time. Through my actions. Through my recovery. And if only he were here to hold me, he would understand that my recovery means everything. Not for him, for me. But I am his, so a better me is a better him. I just want him to know he’s loved and cared for. I don’t want him to feel alone, upset, and sad. I want him to ask questions, even yell, shame, guilt. Do what he needs to do. Isolating himself alone in his room at his parents house is not going to help him heal, with or without me.

And for some reason, as I heal, I need to know who I affected most is healing. Because the truth is: I can’t stop thinking about killing myself since this happened. Not because I want to, but because I think it’s the one thing that would end his healing process, and make his life better. Even if it meant I would lose mine. So be it.

#opiates #opioid addiction #opiod epidemic

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