#I’ve slipped out of my funk I think | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

soopsiesdaisies · 3 months ago

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i mean, technically, (y)our marriage is saved - 5

Chapter summary:

Rhys, emboldened by Feyre having allowed physical contact, amps up the teasing. Feyre allows that too, but not without readying herself for going home.

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General warnings: Rhys, 7.3k

~*~

The next morning I didn’t wake as much as I just dragged open my eyes, head pounding, not having slept one wink.

I’d been thinking all night—about the upcoming war, my return to the Spring Court, and these last two days I’d spend with Rhys. It’d left me unable to fall into the slumber I needed even with my ever-present night terrors, the worry and dread gnawing at me; Nuala and Cerridwen seemed to correctly clock my sluggish demeanour as exhaustion and quietly set out my clothes, lined the bath with soaps and oils. With Rhysand back from wherever he’d gone, I was expected to have breakfast with him again.

The bathwater was warm. I sank down until everything but my nose was submerged and simply floated, eyes closed. My fingers twitched and I imagined heating them until the water did too, hot enough to burn me, as though the pain would drag me out of my funk—but nothing happened, so I sat up with a sigh, accepted the washcloth from one of the girls, and began to scrub at my once sweaty skin. My hair I massaged firmly until the muscles lining my scalp loosened and the petty little tension headache decreased to dismissible levels.

By the time I climbed out, Nuella and Cerridwen were gone and Rhysand had not yet summoned me. I dried off quickly, twisted my towel around my hair for the water to soak up, and tugged on the underwear they’d curiously left for me in the bathroom rather than on my bed. I then padded into my bedroom, none the wiser, and promptly felt my heart drop out of my arsehole at what greeted me.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded shrilly.

“I figured I’d fetch you so you don’t get lost,” Rhysand said, blinking big, innocent eyes at me. He was lounging on my bed like it was his own, obviously comfortable. “I wouldn’t want you to get lost, wandering my halls for the foreseeable future. What kind of horrible host would I be if I let that happen?”

“A better than you are now,” I shrieked, furiously searching for my clothes. “Leave, Rhysand!”

“But what if you get lost?”

“I won’t get lost if I refuse to leave this room for the rest of the week!” Dark blue fabric folded on the armoire caught my eye, and I hurried towards it, snatching it from the lacquered wood. I tore the towel off my head and slipped into the sundress, heart thundering. “How dare you—I was bathing!”

“I didn’t see anything, if that’s what you’re concerned about,” he replied, audibly amused. “You were covered—in underwear, mind, but still. I can assure you I’ve seen far more skin of many, many females—”

A burst of emotion I couldn’t place engulfed me so forcefully that it came out in a menacing, rumbling hiss; the room sharpened, turned simultaneously more colourful and colourless, and my gums itched like something mad. Rhys gaped for less than a second before his expression turned so pleased that I flushed from head to toe and stumbled towards the dressing table, desperate to see what, exactly, had made him so smug.

My veins still thrummed with the lingering remains of the foreign feeling, so much so it almost hurt, but it swiftly faded to make place for my own shock. The mirror reflected something unrecognisable yet undeniably me—eyes a shock of electric turquoise, pupils slit and fangs elongated to thick and sharp weapons of ivory. I looked darker, more shadowed, more fiery.

It startled me so much that the change melted away, and I was left staring at my familiar though reddened reflection, panting and reeling.

Fae, I thought frantically, I’m fae. This happens. It slipped out.

With a breath meant to steady me, I opened one of the drawers of the vanity and took out the obsidian comb I’d been using.

“It’s… it’s uncouth,” I insisted eventually, teeth gritting at the gleeful little giggle he let out. “Rhysand, you can’t just walk into someone’s bedroom—”

“I thought you were already dressed,” he protested. “Dressed, and sulking, most likely…”

“You,” I began, venomous, and I dragged the comb through my hair, unmindful of the snags. “You—”

“Me,” he agreed, swaggering closer until he stood behind me and was able to peer at my reflection over my shoulder. “I know I’m very handsome, but there’s truly no need to be so embarrassed. We are mates, after all.”

He grinned then, a gleam of sharp, daring white, cockiness spilling off him in waves. My answering glare didn’t even make his smug, stupid face falter.

“I figured we could use the walk up to talk before eating,” Rhys added. His hand reached out, closing around my trembling wrist; the other plucked the comb from my suddenly limp fingers with infuriating ease. “I want to hear all about your progress.”

“Go to hell,” I groused, but I didn’t bite his fingers off when he began to carefully comb through my wet hair.

Rhysand’s grin hardened for a few seconds. “I’ve already visited. Not my preferred travel destination, I tell you.”

I only glared. Rhys, for he was the most self-centred male I’d ever met, only let his grin morph into a small, smug smile and continued to run the teeth through my hair, careful not to pull at any tangles he came across. Eventually he put the comb down and bent at the waist, rummaging through the opened drawer and taking out that peculiar silver hairbrush.

“Mor told me you’re doing really well,” he said, as he began to brush. “Reading, writing… I heard you’ve been trying to shield too. Obviously she can’t tell whether it’s any good, but I’ll be putting it to the test today.”

My lack of reply didn’t seem to deter him.

“Doesn’t it feel good?” he questioned. “Becoming more capable, more independent. Judging by what Mor tells me, you’ll be able to plough through novels by Nynsar, perhaps earlier.”

Nynsar, one of the minor fae holidays Amarantha had deemed unnecessary and subsequently banned from celebrating. It was months from now; the first to be celebrated in fifty years.

My jaw tightened. “That’ll still be a while.”

“‘A while’ in human terms is nothing in our immortal existences,” Rhys said smoothly, still smiling. I looked at his face, the small amount of concentration that the tightness in his muscles revealed, and stayed quiet. “You’ll only need to keep at it. Practise until it becomes second nature.”

“That’s what Mor said too,” I muttered.

Rhys beamed. “Mor does have a tendency to be correct.”

He continued brushing, smoothing my hair back over my head until he seemed satisfied. Then he leaned down again and fetched a ribbon.

Something in me — and I wasn’t certain whether it was just how our relationship should be, or if it was the bond urging me along — wanted to… untether him. The confidence that seemed to be written on his bones was familiar, yes, but I wanted him to lose his balance for once.

“Mor…” I started, hesitating, before I continued in a rush of breath: “Mor also said you have the wingspan of a fledgling.”

Rhysand froze for about two breaths. Then he shook himself, gritted his teeth into a tense grin, and said, “Mor doesn’t know what she’s talking about on that front.”

“She doesn’t?” I asked, heart pounding and body tensing with the urge to giggle. “I don’t know, when I saw them they didn’t look all that impressive.”

He tied half my hair back with sharp movements. “I assure you that they are.”

“Hmm. Well, whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“They are. My wingspan is absolutely above average, and—” he halted, jerked his face up, and stared directly into my eyes. “You’re teasing me.”

I tilted my head to the side. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You are,” he said, pure, unfiltered glee spreading all over his face. “You’re teasing me.”

“To reiterate,” I replied, “whatever helps you sleep at night, Rhys.”

He grinned and bowed his head again, sweeping my hair over my shoulder. I could feel his fingers brush my back; he was fiddling with the lacing of the bodice.

“You absolutely were teasing me, and that will aid my rest tremendously, thank you very much.” He tightened the bodice, tied the laces in what I assumed to be a little bow. “Where are your shoes?”

“Somewhere in the room, I suppose.” I shifted and turned, placing both my hands on his chest and staring up at him. “I’m sure your humongous brain can figure it out.”

His eyes glittered like stars. “You wish for me to pick out your shoes?”

“Do I have more than one pair? Just grab my shoes, if you’re so interested in their whereabouts.”

Rhys grinned at me—not lewdly, not feline, just a normal grin of genuine amusement. He reached up to put a lock of hair behind my ear. I graciously allowed it.

“There are at least five,” he said. “Flats, heels, boots made from leather and boots made from fur. They’re in the armoire.”

I slipped past him without a word and made my way to the armoire, opened it. And yes, there—on the opposite side of the wedding dress, low and beneath sweeping fabrics held up by hangers, sat six pairs of shoes.

I snatched a pair of brown leather sandals and pushed the doors closed, walked to the bed to put them on. They were strappy and had a plethora of horrible little silver buckles that I did not know where to attach.

“Need any help?” he asked, as I struggled. Upon looking up I found him staring at me with that same grin, hip resting against the vanity and arms crossed. “It’s Summer Court fashion, but you’ll find I’m rather proficient in helping beautiful females slipping in or out of clothing—be it from my Court or not.”

“I’d rather gut myself,” I said sweetly.

Rhys’ grin widened further, eyebrows jumping up. “I just don’t want you to hurt yourself trying to fasten them.”

“It’s a shoe,” I snarked, struggling. “How would I—”

“Just let me do it,” he said magnanimously, all self-important and puffed up like a peacock. He walked forward and went down on one knee, gripping my left foot by the ankle and resting it on his thigh. Then he briefly looked up, smiling slyly. “I don’t just kneel for anyone, you know.”

“I know it’s difficult for you, but please just shut up and fasten them.” I gritted my teeth and crossed my arms, looking away. My cheeks had grown hot again. “Your massive ego shouldn’t be inflated further for risk of exploding.”

“I’ll have you know my ‘massive ego’ is incredibly stretchy and can take at least double of what it is now,” Rhys said. The tips of his fingers brushed over the top of my foot and I had to bite my lip to not jerk it away. He could not know I was ticklish. “There. Next foot, please.”

I hesitantly stretched my leg. Rhys yet again snatched my ankle to hold it still, but had to slip the sandal on this time like I was some sort of faerie Cinderella. Mercifully, he remained quiet as he made quick work of the straps and buckles.

“Done,” he said, “take a good look at the pattern so you’ll be able to replicate it later. I can’t always be there to put your shoes on for you, Feyre darling.”

I glared at him through my lashes. He grinned back, a cocky tilt to his mouth.

“Though I do wish,” he added smoothly, “fervently.”

Arrogant, annoying bastard. I scowled and swung my legs to the side of him to stand.

“Let’s just go get breakfast,” I muttered. “Before your damn foot fetish has you crawling.”

I stalked off to the hallway, ignoring the warmth blooming in my chest at his surprised bark of laughter. There was no honour or joy in making him laugh; I was something to amuse himself with, like a jester, like I had been in Amarantha’s Court. Me being Made didn’t mean I’d never been a pathetic human plaything.

The scramble of footsteps behind me told me Rhys had followed. He was still chuckling when he reached me with his unfairly large gait, hands buried in his pockets as he twirled to face me.

“You needn’t run,” he said, delighted. “I won’t bite. Unless you ask me to—”

“I’ll bite you,” I snapped, before I could think to realise what that would imply. The utter glee on his face was enough for me to thoroughly regret ever having opened my mouth. “That’s not what I meant.”

“But that’s what I took from it,” he tittered. “Oh, Feyre, has no one ever told you to be careful how you word things around the fae?”

I sped up and went past him, climbing the steps by two. Rhys followed swiftly and was next to me in less time than it took to blink.

“Little girl, do hold your tongue. I know it’s hard when you’re still young—but the faerie knows and the fearie hears, he’ll twist your words laid in his ears….”

I ignored him, scowling, climbing up and up and up to reach that ridiculous open space—

“…he’ll grab you, take your words for truth; shall take your life, and then your youth. The fearie may be so divine, but he’ll snatch you, tell you, ‘now you’re mine’! The fearie knows, girl, so know this: you give your mouth? He’ll have your kiss.”

I stomped towards the table, near the stretching veranda that offered that marvellous view of the mountain range. It was already dressed with two plates, a steaming teapot, baskets of bread and bowls of cut fruit; I skidded towards my chair, sat, and angrily poured myself a cup of tea.

Rhys was still singing as he joined me, voice smokey and lilting.

“The folk of fair, they dance and sing, they’ll offer you food and leisure; but be prepared, and be on guard: eat and be theirs for pleasure.”

“That’s not how the verse goes,” I told him stiffly. “It’s, ‘the folk of fair will dance and sing, and offer you food and joy; but be prepared and be on guard: accept, and be their toy’. Where the hell did you learn it’s ‘pleasure’?”

Rhys leaned forward and rested his chin on his hand, eyes twinkling. “I changed it to fit our situation.”

“The original fits better,” I said, spooning some melon onto my plate. “According to you I’m Tamlin’s cuddly little stuffy, remember?”

“But you’re not mine,” he retorted, still twinkling. My scowl deepened. “Oh, don’t be like that, Feyre darling—I’d never just take you for my pleasure. Only if you ask nicely.”

I didn’t know what to even say to that, though my mouth nevertheless opened for a scathing reply. Quick as a whip, Rhys picked up a grape and pushed it onto my tongue.

“Maybe we’ll include rhyme into your lessons,” he mused, as I chewed in the most aggressive manner possible and shot daggers at him with my eyes. “Yes, that could be fun—faerie Feyre, eyes like ice, won’t you sing a song for me? I’ve sung so much my throat is raw, here on my bended knee…”

Lessons with Rhysand were different from lessons with Mor, in which we occupied a library instead of the alcove-study, and Rhysand spent much of his time staring at me and trying to get a rise out of me. He threw balled paper at my head, wrote ridiculous sentences for me to read out loud and copy — Rhysand is the most beautiful and handsome High Lord, Rhysand is Feyre Archeron’s favourite High Lord, Rhysand has an incredibly impressive wingspan, Morrigan is a lying liar who lies and is always incorrect in her frivolous assumptions — and used the command ‘shield’ as a way to get me to lower or raise my mental wall. Though it was admittedly kind of torturous, it was, much like the lessons with Mor, nothing like I’d imagined my stay at the Night Court to be prior to him stealing me away.

Instead of counting the hours to my departure in a bare-boned cell, I had been given a lavish suite and was often seated in comfortable chairs; instead of being physically tortured, he simply tried his best at annoying me by being himself; instead of being given gruel, the food I was offered was incredible and delicious and easy to keep down. My clothing was comfortable and clean. I was allowed to bathe and sleep whenever I wished, provided those wishes did not coincide with my lessons.

Back then I’d imagined Rhysand to sit on his throne or hide in the shadows as he ordered my torture. I’d imagined him watching it happen with a sick kind of glee that fit more on Amarantha’s face than his own. But that fear was entirely unfounded, as my stay so far had proven. The aftershocks of other people’s prejudices and his initial deception had swept me away and dumped me into a vat of sticky, thick anxiety; my fantasies had subsequently run wild after hearing that Amarantha had modelled her Court after his, assuming Rhys was, in essence, just like her.

Perhaps he was, in a way. Perhaps I simply was his favourite plaything at the moment, and he allowed me a semblance of freedom just to keep me placated. I couldn’t genuinely trust him just yet—maybe never.

“So,” he said, after reading through the assignment he gave me. I was met by a smile, which I supposed meant that I did well. “Shielding.”

I did not groan, though I wanted to.

“Mor said she described it to you as a wall shielding your mind,” he murmured. “She said she’d asked you to practise. I’d like to test you.”

My shields, that’d still been down at his last command, slowly rose up again. I glared at him and sat back, playing with my pen.

“Go ahead then,” I said. “Slip into my mind, like you’re so fond of doing.”

Rhysand smiled a very feline smile. He didn’t move; and still, I felt tendrils of shadow actively slithering across the bridge between our minds. All too soon talons tapped along the walls of adamant I’d raised, questioning and explorative; they scratched along them, still incapable of inflicting any damage.

The tendrils retreated. “Interesting. You’ve utilised your will.”

“Outrage is a good motivator,” I replied.

“So it is.” Rhys’ grin widened. “I want to show you something—why it’s so important to have mental shields. Lower the wall for a moment, darling.”

I did, though I did not stop glaring at him. The tendrils entered my mindscape almost immediately, curious, explorative; it almost tickled with how gentle they were.

Then they struck.

My entire body seized, breath caught in my throat and extremities tingling. I was caught, stuck, embraced in a menacing hold of power like a rabbit caught in the jaws of a wolf. It felt like one wrong movement would have me mauled.

“This is what a deamati like me can do to the unprotected mind,” Rhys said quietly. His gaze was intense, shining, and I wished to glare at him but was too frightened to. “Right now I’m just holding you, but one simple action from me can destroy you. Everything you are, everything that makes you you. It’s why you need to shield.”

I couldn’t speak but nevertheless managed to conjure the image of a massive middle finger to get my point across. Rhys sniggered unsettlingly and leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand.

“Now push me out,” he whispered.

That was easier said than done, I assumed, but I messily attempted to follow his order. The tendrils were everywhere, creeping along the bookshelves and through the aisles, slipping between them and cradling memories like he wishes to take them. I fought back, ripped them from his grip, frantic and panicked; started slapping them away like they were buzzing flies.

“Come on,” he urged me, “try a little harder. Your walls are impeccable, so I know your will is strong enough…”

It was less like I had endless hands to get ahold of the tendrils and eject them, and more like I erected a force field that steadily grew to encompass my mind and pushed Rhys out. I stared at his face, the excitement growing on it, and pushed, pushed—

The last of the tendrils were blasted back towards the bridge, and I raised my wall of adamant in the same breath before they could even attempt to return. With his hold having vanished, my body slumped forward like a puppet with its strings snipped through—I panted, rubbed at my damp forehead, and flexed my fingers to get used to the feeling of control again.

“Excellent!” Rhys crowed. “That was incredible, my darling, I simply knew you could do it—now, returning to the matter at hand, why don’t you read me a passage from this book…”

Though I barely had the energy to glare at him, I did so anyway. And I took the book from his hands just as easily.

The next day, my last full day in the Night Court, I walked — alone — to the hall where we ate together to find Mor sprawled out in a cream armchair and Rhysand pacing furiously. It felt intrusive, as they were obviously discussing something grave, so I purposefully kept my steps loud and audible as I approached.

“Azriel would want to know that,” Mor said, fiddling with the end of her standard braid. “He—”

“…can go to hell,” Rhys finished snappishly, continuing to pace. His steps were aggressive and long. “And he likely knows already, anyway.”

“Listen. The last time this happened, we were playing games. We lost then, quite horribly, and that shouldn’t happen again.” Mor’s tone was so serious that I paused for a moment. “We can’t lose again.”

“And you should be working,” Rhys replied. “I gave you control for a reason.”

Mor’s face tilted up and her eyes squeezed shut for a moment, before she took a bracing breath and turned to face me with a stiff smile. “Good morning, Feyre.”

Rhys tripped over thin air.

“Good morning,” I replied cautiously, watching Rhys regain his footing and send me an unreadable look. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No,” said Mor. “No, I think it’s a good idea that you know this, too.”

Her chin tilted down and her eyes glittered, like she knew something I didn’t. Rhys cursed under his breath and resumed pacing.

“Just say what it is you came here to say, Mor.”

Mor sighed, her facial expression turning quite grave. “There was another attack—at a temple in Cesere. Almost every priestess was slain, and the trove was looted.”

Rhys halted once more, this time smooth and poised like a wildcat. And then he uttered, in a tone that perfectly revealed his complete and utter fury: “Who.”

“We don’t know,” said Mor. “Same tracks as last time: small group, bodies that show signs of wounds from large blades, and no trace of where they came from or how they disappeared. There were no survivors; the bodies weren’t found until a day later, by a group of passing pilgrims.”

I swallowed audibly, and perhaps exhaled a little too hard, because Mor gave me a tight and sympathetic look. And Rhys, who apparently had been hanging onto the last vestiges of his control, broke—plumes of utter shadow rose from his back in a terrifying flare before they solidified into flesh.

They looked as I remembered: beautiful and massive wings, membranous and clawed like those of a bat, in a shade of darkness so intense it was as though they sucked in light. They made him look sturdier, like they belonged in full sunlight or under the pearlescent glow of the night—like he stood differently, somehow.

“What did Azriel have to say?” he breathed.

“Well, he’s fucking furious,” Mor answered, glancing at me again. “Cassian’s worse—he’s convinced it’s got to be those Illyrian war-bands again, intent on expanding their territory.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Rhys said, amused in a very dangerous way. “Some clans bowed happily to Amarantha the last forty-nine years. Perhaps they wish to see how far they can push me and get away with it.”

Mor hmm’ed. “Cas and Az are waiting in—erm, the usual spot for your orders.”

She gave me an apologetic grimace and I couldn’t do anything but shrug. I wasn’t Night Court, I was the bride of an enemy—it was miraculous Rhys allowed me to overhear as much as I had. Like playing with fire, though I had no idea where Cesare even was.

Rhys glanced at the open skies from behind the windows, jaw working. The wind was fierce and loud; the clouds were dark and menacing, thundering over mountaintops like an avalanche of ash.

Good weather for flying, I thought, staring at the wings protruding from Rhysand’s back. But then Mor said, “Winnowing in would be easier.”

Rhys scowled. “Tell those pricks I’ll be there in a few hours.”

Mor laughed a barking laugh, winked at me, and promptly vanished—like reality itself folded in on her and pushed her out of sight.

Though I’d seen a handful of High Fae do it, it still surprised me. I gaped at her empty chair for a few moments before shaking myself and carefully stepping closer.

“How does that vanishing work?” I asked.

Rhys glanced at me and stretched one wing out fully, tip quivering slightly. “Winnowing?”

“If that’s what it’s called.” No-one had ever explained, neither the theory nor actual act.

“Think of it as… stepping from one place to the other,” he said. “Like two points on a cloth. One is where you are; the other your destination. Our magic folds the cloth until the two points are touching one another directly, and then we simply step through.”

I blinked at him. “Can anyone do it?”

“No, it’s a rare gift.” He shrugged. “You need to be powerful to do it. The more powerful you are, the further you can travel; and the further you travel, the more keenly you feel the fabric of the world brushing past you. Going from one side of the room to another, though, feels like a single step.”

I rubbed my hands together, then glanced down at my fingers. Licked my lips. “Do you think I’d be able to learn it?”

I didn’t look up until I suddenly heard footsteps growing closer; when I did, Rhys was so close to me I could feel the heat of his body.

Silence, save for the muffled roar of wind in the background, swelled between us as he stared at me. His eyes flit over my face, lingering on my mouth, then my eyes. And then he smiled a very small smile.

“Feyre,” he said, “you know this—I think you can learn to do anything.”

I stared back at him, and for a moment I couldn’t hear anything but my heartbeat in my ears. His smile widened; my own mouth twitched. The jasmine-scented breeze blew his own scent to me, citrus and rain and sea, a freshness that would’ve startled me had it not become familiar to me by now. I hesitantly, carefully, reached out and straightened his already straight lapels.

“I’m sorry about the priestesses, and the temple,” I whispered.

His smile froze, eyes shuttering. “Plenty more people will die.”

I continued to straighten his lapels, jaw tight, then brushed invisible lint off his shoulders. It was calming, the motion—prevented me from growing irate, or fearful, or anything other than contemplative. Touching him continued to be inexplicably grounding. Even some of the tenseness in Rhysand’s form dissipated.

He let me overhear the conversation, I decided, because he wanted me to know. He needed me to, if only to reiterate our conversation from two days prior: Hybern and the threat it is.

Plenty more people will die.

“So… I know what Illyrians are,” I continued, “but what did Mor mean with ‘war-bands’? Are they groups of soldiers who’ve deserted?”

“All Illyrians are warriors, and in all technicality they ought to be loyal to me as their High Lord,” Rhys said, teeth baring into something between a grimace and a menacing grin. “Even more so because I’m half Illyrian myself. However, some of them don’t quite like me as I banned a few of their traditional Illyrian practices. That did not go over well; the males collected their females and children and began to—erm, show their discontent with me. I suppose that ‘deserters’ is an apt description, but ‘murderous rioters’ fits as well.”

“And they kneeled for Amarantha?” I frowned up at him, clenched my jaw in thought. “Are they the groups of fae you’re worried will join Hybern?”

Rhys inclined his head in what could barely count as a nod. “Yes, some bowed to her. And yes, these war-bands are some of the groups of fae I’m worried about. There are many others, but these males specifically—” his eyes flamed, “—me and mine have been thoroughly enjoying hunting them down, and ending them for their actions.”

Slowly, I finished mentally. My eyebrows raised and I ceased petting him down, merely resting my hands flat against his chest.

“Was that why you were so busy these last couple of days?” I asked lightly. “Or were you running away?”

His tight grimace did not fall. “I was busy with many things.”

“Sure,” I said. “High Lord-things. Of course.”

Rhys nodded, and I couldn’t help but note that he hadn’t given me a straight answer. Lingering embarrassment, perhaps—or just a plain need not to divulge everything to someone who wasn’t loyal to him.

I drummed my fingers on his chest, played with a button. “Will you be busy again today?”

“Yes,” Rhys said, a touch strangled. He swallowed; I watched the protrusion around his larynx bob up, then met his eyes again. “I… I need to help. Lead. Give orders.”

“Of course,” I murmured. “Have you left me any assignments to work through?”

“Plenty,” he whispered.

We stared at one another for a few more breaths, and then I nodded sharply and stepped back, my hands dropping to rest beside my thighs. And Rhys stood there, looking a little bit lost before he visibly gathered himself.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said. “Before taking you back.”

I nodded again. Rhys nodded as well, then turned to step out onto the balcony. He rested his foot on the parapet, sending me one last unreadable look over his shoulder.

Then he jumped off and vanished. I somehow didn’t cry out in surprise; and even if I’d wanted to, it couldn’t even have left my throat before the fright would have ebbed away. He rose up with a twirl, winked at me, and swept off into the curling roll of storm clouds with just a handful of powerful beats from his wings.

“Show off,” I grumbled, and I stalked off to study all on my own, legs unsteady and jittery with the lingering shock.

Back in the library, I sorted through the endless little notes he’d left me and parsed through his looping, fancy handwriting—slightly different from Mor’s, but clear enough that I didn’t have too much trouble figuring out what he’d written. There were absurd, egocentric sentences because of course there were, but he’d also written that I ought to practise the solidity of my mental shields. Imagining one other person had the key, or was allowed to phase through, for example; reordering my thoughts and placing the wall in a different section, so that a less practised deamati could be tricked into finding what I wished for them to find, rather than what they wanted to find. The concept was intriguing and made some sense, but mainly if I was locked in a place with one or two daemati and it was wartime. Yet another hint that Rhys expected me to join the fighting.

He was such a fucking prick.

But I practised nevertheless, because the strain felt… good, somehow. It felt like running until my muscles were burning. Refreshing, almost. And besides, the note implied that I had to be able to rise and drop my wall while thinking of other things, which left me with plenty of time to mull over the information Rhys had allowed me to overhear. Especially because that implied he wouldn’t necessarily mind it if Tamlin was informed.

Tamlin, I supposed, and Ianthe.

Perhaps she’d known the victims. Perhaps she’d already be aware of the murders, by the time I came back to tell. But perhaps, she didn’t know that the temple in Cesare was only one of many attacked—and I thought she should know that.

I ate lunch alone in my room, then wandered: read simple texts, played with my toes, attempted to rummage through cabinets that ended up being locked. Inside my room none were, and I opened the armoire to stare at the poofy custard mess that was my wedding dress. With the doors opening, tiny little pearls and sequins once more fell tinkling onto the ground.

It still annoyed me. The sight of it still caused anger and embarrassment to surge high. I’d wanted it when it was picked out; I’d stopped wanting it by the time I was hoisted into it, by the time Rhys whisked me off, by the time he compared it to a cupcake and I suspected, knew, that he was right.

It was almost time to go back home, the dress told me. I almost shook with it. I wondered, once more, how obvious my hesitation had been—how many people had seen me almost say no, say that it was too soon, say that I couldn’t, not yet. I wondered how I could possibly explain it if it had to be explained. I wondered if the fae of spring would confront me with it, demand answers, in the same breath that they’d demand me to divulge any and all secrets of the Night Court I’d managed to uncover during my stay.

For some indiscernible reason, that made me angry. That I—that I was useful for show, to have, and useful for potential information of enemy territory. Nothing else. Or — and I scoffed, gritted my teeth so hard it would’ve cracked my human molars — for fighting, as Rhysand had so kindly informed me.

My right of existence, no matter my species, was contingent on my usefulness to others. It always had been. I’d prided myself on it, once; now, it felt more like a death knell.

I closed the armoire, bottom lip trembling. Ate dinner alone and took a bath. Dunked below the surface, swam and twirled, stayed in there until I’d shrivelled up into a woman-shaped prune and I could rub the dead skin off my limbs with nothing more than a brief rub of my hand. I washed my hair and oiled it, massaged my scalp; went back under and wondered, as I blinked up, squinting, at the surface, what it would be like to stay beneath the water.

Night had fallen by the time I was dressed in a soft pair of pyjamas and padded out of the bathroom to climb into bed. It was snowing, and I could smell it, but it felt freeing rather than miserable like I’d expected. And though my sleep was restless, I managed to rise and get dressed before the dawn had fully broken. And the storm had stopped.

I found Rhys in the same hall we ate in once more. Slouching, he was still dressed in the same clothes as yesterday; his hair was windswept, and he looked tired. I wondered if he’d even slept, if he’d only just arrived—worried for half a second, then questioned why on Earth I cared whether he was okay.

“Good morning,” I said hesitantly.

He glanced my way and offered me a brittle smile. Then he took a large gulp from a brown, familiar-smelling liquid in a crystal glass.

I inched closer and wondered whether I should sit down. “Should you be drinking around me?”

“Who said I was drinking?” he asked, but he downed the remainder in one go and reached for a refill. “Good morning.”

“To reiterate,” I said, “should you be drinking around me? You got rather… emotional, last time. Revealed a little much.”

Rhys slouched further. From nearer by, I could see that he’d undone the top few buttons of his tunic; it was rumpled, like he’d slept in them. I doubted he’d slept.

“Do you want any tea?” he asked. “Maybe a pastry, or some fruit? Or do you want me to deposit you back in Spring like the doll Tamlin believes you to be as soon as possible?”

I reared back, fire erupting within my chest cavity. “Excuse me?”

He grinned lazily and raised his glass. “Sorry. Filter’s a touch gone.”

My eyes narrowed, lip twitching as I resisted the urge to curl it. His explanation, or apology, or excuse did not help me become less irate. If anything, I grew even more outraged.

“If you’re going to be like this then yes, I’d love to skip breakfast so you can… deposit me back in the Spring Court like the object I apparently am.”

He took a few quick swallows and set the crystal down, wiping his mouth. “You said it, not me.”

His gaze then fell on my outfit, a variation of the first one I’d worn here; it was a dusky kind of purple, this time. I watched as his eyes widened; his mouth fell open, just a touch. I shifted, scowling.

“Do I need to say ‘please’? Are those the magic words you require?” He didn’t answer, just stared at my exposed midriff. “Rhysand!”

His whole body jerked, and like a spell had broken, he met my eyes with his own wide and almost guilty.

“You only call me Rhysand when you’re cross with me,” he whined. “Why are you always cross with me? The colour just looks wonderful on you.”

“I’m cross with you because you’re the most infuriating male I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting,” I retorted sharply.

But the wording was a mistake, because a smug, feline grin crossed his lips almost immediately. His head tilted, his face exuded arrogance, and then he purred, like a prick: “So it was a pleasure to meet me, was it, Feyre darling?”

I closed my eyes. Counted to ten in my head, twice.

“Rhys.”

“Just sit,” he drawled. “Have some tea, have some fruit—or a drink with me, if you need to mentally prepare before facing the undoubtedly disastrous consequences of your sudden absence. A bit of liquid courage, if you will.”

“I don’t need any liquid courage,” I said testily, but I did sit down, like a weakling. I wasn’t sure why I’d stopped insisting — however briefly I had done so — to take me back home, but there was some part of me that felt sick at the thought of leaving. Likely the mating bond, traitorous thing that it was. “Give me some tea.”

“Anything for the lady.” He snapped his fingers and in an instant, a steaming teapot, two delicate cups, and a basket of pastries appeared on the table. “Summoning,” he explained, at my confused look. “It was already done—I simply made it come here. You sure you don’t want something stronger? I can also add some to your tea…”

“It’s far too early, you prick,” I replied, refusing to be polite. Rhys just smiled at me and poured the tea, sliding the cup over. “Are you really willing to bring me back?”

“Like I said, anything for the lady.” He inclined his head and leaned back in his chair, lifting his leg to rest his ankle on his knee. The glass was picked back up, balanced precariously between his long fingers. “Just on the last day, of course.”

“Right,” I said, sceptical. Rhys just smiled serenely and took a sip of his drink. “Because I’m a guest.”

“Exactly,” he said. “See? You’re learning things here.”

I rolled my eyes and snatched a pastry, ignoring how the flaky outside grumbled in my grip. Rhys sipped at his drink, watching me.

“What?” I asked eventually, through a mouthful of butter and cherry.

He smiled again. “You look better. Got a bit of colour,” he leaned in, tapped my cheek, “and the marks under your eyes are almost gone. And, of course, your progress…”

“And the discovery I have magic,” I grumbled.

He tapped the tip of my nose, grinning widely when I retreated and wrinkled it.

“Yes,” he said, “good point.”

He leaned back once more, tilting his head back, and I eyed him as covertly as possible—which wasn’t much, considering a sliver of violet was still on me. Just from a plain observation, Rhys looked much the same as he did at the beginning of the week; just a bit less drunk, but still similarly tired. Looking closer, however, I could see the lines of stress around his mouth and between his neatly groomed eyebrows.

Maybe, I thought, or likely, he doesn’t want to bring me back.

I didn’t dwell on that though, because I didn’t exist for Rhysand’s happiness. I ate my pastry and drank my tea, wiping my hands on my trousers when I was finished. Then I stood.

“Shall we go?” I asked.

“So soon?” Rhys whined, but he threw back the remainder of his drink and climbed to his feet, stumbling only a little. He walked closer, hands in his pockets, and smiled tightly. “Very well then. You don’t want to wait for Mor?”

“I—” I started, realising I’d honestly forgotten about her promise. But I shook my head. “Do you have a piece of paper? And a pen?”

Rhys’ hand emerged from his pocket with just what I asked for. I eyed his form suspiciously but took the objects, then leaned over to the table to carefully write a goodbye message. Just an apology and a promise I’d see her the next time, if the bargain wasn’t broken by then.

I straightened up and Rhys grabbed my wrist, pulling me against him almost immediately. He leaned in even closer, nose against my temple, like the alcohol allowed him to. Said: “Ready, then?”

His breath reeked of the liquor he’d been drinking and I wrinkled my nose again, but my words came out amused. “You sure you’re up for winnowing?”

“I’ve winnowed far less sober than this and arrived in one piece, if you must know,” he replied promptly. “And you’d know.”

I pulled a face and he chuckled humourlessly, tugging me a little closer.

“Alright,” he said, “hold on tight.”

And the world faded into a whirl of darkness and wind, a trip through realms made only less terrifying by the steady, warm line of Rhys’ body against my own. I clutched at him almost against my will, pressing tighter, and his forehead dropped to rest against my hair.

The solid ground and sudden blast of light was just as disorienting as winnowing itself. I blinked and squinted was my pupils acclimatised to the assault of sunshine, my hand still gripping Rhysand’s bicep. The manor, a monstrous behemoth of sandstone, rose up in my peripheral; there were flagstones beneath my feet, sturdy and weathered. Birdsong and sound of wind brushing through the leaves of the ancient oak tree next to us told me he’d taken us to the edge of the manor’s gardens.

The air smelled sweet, cloying, like roses. My tongue felt almost too thick for my mouth.

I cautiously stepped away from the High Lord next to me, looked at him. He appeared out of place here, too sleek for the romance of the Spring Court—all sharp, black lines against the rosy and soft backdrop. He didn’t belong here. The crooked smile he sent me, stiff and brittle all at the same time, told me he knew it.

“Good luck,” he whispered, leaning in to brush his mouth over my temple. “You’re going to need it, Feyre darling.”

He released me, stepped back—and was gone, in an overly dramatic swirl of lingering, smoke-like shadow.

#my writing #acotar fic #acotar fanfiction #feysand fanfic #feyre x rhys #feyre x rhysand

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brckenrcad · 18 days ago

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taylor zakhar perez, thirty, he/him ⟡ — is that SEBASTIAN FARKAS i just saw walking around kilmer’s cove? i heard they’re a RESIDENT who’s been here for EIGHT YEARS. it slipped my mind, since they just tend to hang out at THE LIGHTHOUSE. at face value, they’re said to be CREATIVE and HARDWORKING, but i don’t know… some people have said they can be quite IMPATIENT and PERFECTIONIST. just don’t get on their bad side, i guess! don’t tell them i told you this, but i’ve heard they DO NOT believe in all the ghost stories around town. who knows what the future holds for them!

character information

name: Sebastian Farkas

faceclaim: Taylor Zakhar Perez

gender & pronouns: cis man & he/him

sexuality: Homosexual

age: 30

birthday: January 21, 1994

place of birth: Miami, Florida

occupation: Florist

time since arriving in Kimer's Cove:: Since June 2016

aesthetics: Cold brew coffee, Overloaded bookshelf, Empty cans of red bull, spiked seltzers

pets: Gray & White Cat named Oli

appearance:

faceclaim: Taylor Zakhar Perez

height: 6’

build: Semi-build

eyes: Brown

hair: Dark Brown

piercings: Left nostril & Ear lobes

tattoos: Pineapple on his calf, Arrow on forearm, Geometric symbol on leg

personality:

traits: Creative, Rational, Insubordinate, Overthinker

labels / tropes: The Rebel

mental health: Meh

physical health: Healthy as a horse

likes: Collecting funk pops, Snow globes, Vinyls

dislikes: Liars, Wearing snow boots, People who snore (even though he probably does)

fears: Snakes, Spiders.

phobias: None

hobbies: Reading, Singing

skills: Can Touch his Nose with his Tongue

pet peeves: People who drive slow in the left lane, People who are rude to workers.

biography:

Rhode Island was not where Sebastian thought that he was going to end up. He thought that he would remain on the sunny beach of Florida for the rest of his life because of how much he loved it. The sun was always beating on his skin and he had a ton of friends there. From a young age, Sebastian was a social butterfly and it was clear because he was always doing something with someone and he was not even shy to say hello to strangers and let them join in on the fun that him and his friends had.

It was clear from a young age that Sebastian was gay because he was playing fake money games with purses with his cousin who was also his best friend. He had no problem showing who he was and he was never once ashamed of it. With how expressive he was about himself, he also took an interest in art and flowers particularly. He loved the beautiful things that could be done with flowers as they were used for many joyous, as well as painful events. He was thinking about the best way that he could use his love for flowers and turn it into a career for himself so when he was looking at the different majors in college, he decided that event planning was it for him.

After college, he set off on a career as an event planner but for some reason something was still missing and he felt like he wasn't working with flowers in the capacity that he wanted to. When he got a call from an ex boyfriend from college and he invited him to Kilmer's Cove for the weekend, he decided to take him up on his offer since well, it was fun whenever they were together and he ended up loving the ambiance of Rhode Island.

After walking around town with his ex and looking at different things the town had to offer, and that's when he laid eyes on the floral stand looking for more florist's. Quickly, Sebastian made his way in there and he was offered the job on the spot. His family was condused as to why he would want to leave Florida, but he felt there was something special about Kilmer's Cove and maybe he could build a life for himself.

#sebastian;introduction #kilmer.intro

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leslie-lyman · 2 years ago

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And I’ll Be All in Clover

Summary: Marcus attends the White House Easter Egg Roll and finds someone he did not expect.

Pairing: Congressman!Marcus Pike x nameless OFC/f!reader

Rating: G

Word count: 3.2k

a/n: Oh hi there. It’s been a minute, huh? Remember when I promised this update like three months ago? I’ve been tinkering on and off with this installment forEVER and finally finished it! Note that we find out some more about Marcus’s mystery lady from Part 1 here; she is referred to only with she/her pronouns and no defining physical description, so you can read her as a female reader insert if you like, though she does have a specific job and background in this story. If you’d like to be notified when I post new writing, please follow my writing update blog @leslie-lyman-writes and turn on notifications.

Part 1 || Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

———

“Alright, who is she?”

Marcus flinches, startled at the sound of Linda’s voice. He turns towards the door of his office where his chief of staff is standing, one hip resting against the door jam.

“What are you talking about?”

Linda shakes her head, wild black curls swishing back and forth over her shoulders.

“Don’t play dumb, Marcus. It doesn’t suit you. You’ve been moping around the office for three weeks, staring off into the middle distance, and I’m pretty sure it’s not because you’re daydreaming about the defense budget or campaign finance reform. So who is she?”

Linda is astonishingly good at reading people. It’s part of what makes her such an effective chief. But Marcus is also astonishingly easy to read, and Linda knows about his history with women better than most.

It’s especially embarrassing that he can’t actually answer her question. And the shame at being caught out makes him raise his hackles in defense.

“You know, just because I may have been a little quiet lately doesn’t mean it’s automatically about a woman,” he huffs. “Not everything with me is always about a woman. I’m capable of caring deeply about lots of things. Maybe I’ve been mulling over what I wanna say at the NASA hearing this week. Or wondering whether Jackie Evers is gonna agree to co-lead our economic development bill. Or wrestling with the fact that San Antonio remains the most impoverished major city in the nation.”

“Marcus…”

“Three hundred and fifty thousand people below the poverty line, Linda,” he continues, working himself up. “And what are we doing to make it better? Children going hungry, undocumented families scared for their lives, lead pipes in the walls and guns on the streets, money for fighter jets but none for child care, and you think just because I’ve been a little moody lately that it’s about a woman? You’re really gonna just walk into my office and assume that any change in my mood has to be about a woman?”

Linda waits until he’s gotten it all out of his system, watching him rise from his seat and gesture more and more broadly with his hands the more indignant he becomes. When he finally stops, breathing like he’s just run a hundred-meter dash, she simply raises one eyebrow and says:

“So what is it about, then?”

Marcus meets her stare with his own for a few seconds, then deflates entirely, flopping back into his chair.

“It’s about a woman.”

Linda has the good grace not to lord her correct assumption over him. She merely hums at the satisfaction of being right and wanders over to stand in front of Marcus’s desk. She tosses a small envelope at him, which he catches with a start.

“What is this?”

“A distraction.”

With a small frown Marcus opens it, pulling out a slip of official-looking card stock.

“The White House Easter Egg Roll?”

“Rebecca was supposed to go with me and Olivia, but she has to work. So now I have an extra ticket.”

“I suppose that I should be flattered that I’m your second choice right after your wife.”

Linda rolls her eyes.

“Oh please. You need to snap out of this funk you’re in, and perhaps getting outside and touching some grass will help. And if that grass so happens to be on the South Lawn at a wholesome family event where President Ramirez will also be in attendance, along with a certain senator whose support you need to get the drug treatment court money included in the omnibus…”

Marcus looks up, suddenly interested.

“Jones will be there? How do you know?”

“Because I know everything.”

Marcus has yet to find that to be untrue.

“He’s been dodging my calls for weeks.”

“I know.”

Linda can see the wheels turning in Marcus’s brain based on this new information, and knows that he’s probably already jumping ahead to formulating what he’d say to make his pitch for the money to the senator.

This is what Marcus needs: a cause and a plan.

“I’m gonna need updated stats on — ”

“Yeah.”

“And I’d like to look over the list of organizations that have come out in support again, too.”

“Yup.”

Marcus stares hard at the base of the lamp on his desk without really seeing it as he thinks things through.

“If I could just talk to him about it, if I could just lay out the case for this funding, I know I could convince him to do it. I know I could.”

Nearly twenty-five years in politics has made Linda nothing if not a realist. But to see the fervor with which Marcus clings to his convictions, to his belief in people and in their ability to do the right thing, threatens to chip away at her more jaded edges. She can’t bring herself to try and rein in his optimism, so she gently changes the subject.

“Olivia will love to see you too. It’s been too long since she’s gotten to hang out with her Uncle Marcus. And maybe you could try and have some fun while we’re there? You know, relax a little bit? There’s usually a few celebrities who show up to this thing. There’s a rumor going around that Bad Bunny might make an appearance this year.”

Marcus lets out a bark of laughter.

“That’s funny,” he says.

The look on Linda’s face remains unamused.

“Y’know, cause it’s the Easter — ”

“Shut up, and don’t be late.”

The sounds of Marcus chuckling follow her all the way to her office.

———

The White House Easter Egg Roll dates back to 1878. Egg rolling had become a popular Easter Monday event for Washington, DC’s children in the 1870s, who would race their eggs down the west grounds of the United States Capitol. In 1876, Congress outlawed the practice out of concern for the impact on the Capitol grounds. Two years later, President Rutherford B. Hayes initiated the first White House Easter Egg Roll as a new alternative venue for the tradition.

In its present form, thousands of families descend upon the South Lawn every Easter Monday for an event that has become essentially the world’s most tightly secured garden party. The titular egg roll is still the main event, but the vast grounds that stretch from the White House’s Truman Balcony down to the edge of the Ellipse also boast all manner of food stations, educational activities for kids, a proper Easter egg hunt, a petting zoo, various costumed characters, and a performance stage.

The United States Marine Corps Band is halfway through a rendition of “Easter Parade” when Marcus, Linda, and Olivia enter the grounds. It’s a beautiful day for the event; April weather in DC can range from sleet to blazing sun, but today is downright idyllic. Fluffy clouds float across the clear blue sky over the nearby Washington Monument. The South Lawn gleams emerald green, covered in a sea of people in mostly pastel outfits.

Dressing for an event at the White House is usually a formal affair, but per Linda’s advice Marcus has foregone a tie and opted for the most springtime-like shirt in his closet: a button-down in crisp periwinkle under a suit a shade too bright to be considered navy. A Congressman’s business casual.

Olivia is, as predicted, overjoyed to see the man she’s called Uncle Marcus since she learned to talk. She remains glued to Marcus’s side as they wander the grounds, stopping to load up on sugary snacks and feed handfuls of grain pellets to the baby goats at the petting zoo. Her long black curls and boundless energy mirror Linda’s, and before long she has grass stains and dirt streaks on her pink Easter dress but neither of her chaperones is concerned. Stains will wash out, Linda had told Marcus once, the fun she had getting them is far more important.

It’s more fun than Marcus has had in a long time. It’s a beautiful day with people he considers family, but there’s a twinge of something he feels deep in his gut that threatens to spoil it for him.

Envy.

He would be hard-pressed to find a situation that makes more clear than this one that which he lacks: a family of his own. He’s surrounded by the shrieks and laughter of children, the sight of moms and dads cheering their kids on as they race eggs down the steepest part of the South Lawn’s slope. He’s spotted many of his colleagues here, other members of Congress with their families, happy and together and full of love for each other. There is no doubt in Marcus’s mind that he loves Olivia, but nothing can ever change that fact that she isn’t his.

After the painful saga of his divorce and the whole mess with Theresa, Marcus had thrown himself not long after into the drastic career change of running for office. That had consumed eighteen months of his life and had worked wonders in keeping him so busy and exhausted that the idea of venturing out into the dating world again had been pushed from his mind. His singleness had even become something of an object of fascination to the public. Politico had dubbed him “Congress’s Most Eligible Bachelor” not long ago on what must have been a particularly slow news day. But now…

He’s starting to think he’ll never stop yearning for it, of finding that someone, that connection, that partner. Of having what everyone else does: a happily ever after. And he’s also starting to fear that it might never happen.

“I don’t see Jones yet,” Linda murmurs to him as they clean their hands after the baby goat encounter. Oh right, he remembers. This is also technically a work event.

“Somehow I can’t picture him willingly spending much time near farm animals,” Marcus replies.

Linda makes a noise of amused agreement before Olivia suddenly lets out a squeal of excitement.

“Mom, mom, look! It’s Bluey!”

Sure enough, the cartoon’s titular dog has made an appearance near the performance stage to the audible delight of seemingly every kid here. Olivia grabs Linda’s hand and starts trying to drag her over.

“You know I’d hoped when she turned five she’d move beyond her Bluey obsession, but it hasn’t happened yet,” Linda mutters to Marcus.

“The trials of parenthood,” Marcus grins.

“I’ll take her over there, why don’t you go do a lap and see if you can’t run into a certain senator?”

Marcus nods.

“And you looked at the latest stats on recidivism?” Linda calls over her shoulder as Olivia impatiently leads her away.

“Yes! Now go get your kid a picture with that dog!”

———

Marcus wanders. He stops to say hello to some of the other Members he knows and is friendly with. Several times it’s other people who stop him. He’s a more recognizable face than most other elected officials, despite his short tenure on the job, and every few minutes someone comes up and asks for a selfie.

There are also professional photographers mingling about from the ever-present White House Press Corps, the gaggle of reporters from all manner of news outlets assigned to cover the White House. Marcus runs into a journalist he’s spoken with a few times from CBS News and grants him a quick interview for the outlet’s TikTok about what his first Easter Egg Roll has been like so far. But there’s no sign yet of the senator he’s hoping to speak with.

He’s wandering past the section of the lawn where Jorge Ramirez, the First Gentleman, is reading from a picture book to a group of children when he notices a camera pointed in his direction out of the corner of his eye. He turns in the photographer’s direction and before she even lowers her camera recognition hits him like lightning.

The woman from the botanical gardens.

The surprise is written all over his face and he knows it, but he can’t muster the wherewithal to school his expression into anything more neutral before he hears the click of the camera’s shutter. But when she lowers the device, she’s smiling at him, and the unexpected delight at seeing her again has him grinning back.

She walks over to him, inspecting the photo she’d just taken on the camera’s display. She’s dressed in black trousers, a white blouse, and comfy-looking sneakers, a black camera bag slung over one shoulder.

“Hello again, Congressman,” she says.

“Hi,” is all Marcus manages.

Something from their first meeting occurs to him then that throws cold water over his excitement.

“I thought you said you weren’t press.” He tries to keep his tone as light as possible.

She fishes an ID badge on a lanyard out from around her neck and holds it out for him to see. It’s not the standard press badge all credentialed reports are required to wear when on White House grounds. It’s a staff badge.

“You work for the President?”

“I do.” She tucks the badge away. “I used to be press, but I’ve since come over to the other side.”

“Ah.”

The chatter of a thousand people surrounds them. Not far away the band finishes a medley of Disney songs to a round of applause. But to Marcus it all feels very far away. Instead he’s hyper-aware of every detail about her: her fingers fidgeting a bit nervously with the camera she still holds, the white flash of her teeth between pretty pink lips, the mismatched earrings she wears (one a carrot, the other a bunny).

“I didn’t get a chance to get your name, before,” he says.

She gives it to him, and the knot he’s carried around in his chest for weeks wondering who this woman is loosens.

“Marcus Pike,” he returns, holding out his hand.

“Oh, I know,” she replies teasingly. Her grip is firm and sends a little shiver of electricity up Marcus’s spine.

Being an FBI agent meant that Marcus was used to projecting an air of authority, to having people sit up and take notice of when he spoke. But being an elected official deferred upon him even more authority whether he felt it was earned or not, it made his time, his attention, be in great demand. If you knew who he was, you probably wanted something from him. And people were so impressed by him, so deferential to him, so flattering and accommodating. Many of his colleagues let it go right to their heads. But all it did was make Marcus constantly second-guess who he could trust.

There’s nothing of that here with this woman. What he sees is the curve of her lip and the quirk of her eyebrow and what he hears is her Oh, I know but what he feels is that she fails to find his status impressive or intimidating and how refreshing that is. How rare, these days, for him to have a conversation feeling like someone is talking to him instead of his title.

“I’m so happy to see you again,” he tells her. “I…regret that our conversation in the gardens got cut short.” He hopes she doesn’t take that to mean he’s blaming her.

She shrugs, attempting to look nonchalant, her bag shifting at the movement.

“I know how it is with Members. I didn’t want to impose on too much of your time.”

“You could have,” Marcus blurts out before he can stop himself.

“You could have,” he repeats more quietly. “Talking with you…it was the best part of my day. Of my whole week. I haven’t stopped thinking about it.” About you, he adds silently, but doesn’t say aloud.

The teasing edge to her smile fades, replaced by something shyer, more genuine.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about it either,” she admits.

Warmth blooms in Marcus’s chest that has nothing to do with the bright April sunshine.

“Could I — could we talk more, sometime?”

“Are you asking me out, Congressman?”

“It’s Marcus, actually,” he says with a coy grin, finally finding the ability to flirt again that usually comes so naturally to him.

Something in her face falters, a flash of disappointment.

“Not here, it’s not,” she murmurs, “not right now.”

Her eyes slide past his to glance about at the crowds of people around them. Guilt clenches in his gut as reality floods back in, the bubble around them bursting and the sounds of the crowds around them suddenly returning to full volume in his ear. How could he be so careless? He’s a Member of Congress, she’s a White House staffer, and right now, she’s working. There are still power dynamics here that he’s completely forgotten about until this moment.

“Oh, fuck, you’re right. I’m so sorry, forget I said anything—”

“Don’t be.” She shakes her head at him, eyes wide. “What I meant by ‘not right now,’ is that—it’s not that I’m not inter—” She blows a raspberry with her lips and swipes a hand over her face.

“What I mean to say is, I should be done with work today by seven. If, if you’d like to talk more. Which I would very much like, for the record.”

She reaches into her camera bag and pulls out a crisp white business card and a pen, scribbling a phone number down on the back. He takes it from her when she holds it out to him, their fingertips just barely brushing.

“Hey boss!” The sound of Linda calling for him from over his shoulder is a rough yank back to reality. He turns to find her walking towards them, a giddy Olivia in tow.

“Senator Jones, three o’clock.” And sure enough, off to Marcus’s right, he spots the man in question, sun gleaming off both his bald spot and his veneers, talking with several other men in stuffy suits and ties.

Linda looks past Marcus at his no-longer-a-mystery woman, then back at him, the look on her face telling him that she’s immediately figured out who it is he’s been talking to.

“I’m sorry,” Marcus says, “I can’t believe I’m doing this again, but I gotta—”

“It’s okay,” she reassures him. “Looks like we both have to get back to work.”

Marcus sighs, fingers tightening on the little card he still holds.

“Happy Easter, Congressman,” she says.

“Happy Easter,” he replies with a murmur of her name, and finds he likes the way it feels on his lips.

———

The rest of the day passes in a blur.

He has a good talk with Senator Jones (he thinks, he hopes), he gives three more impromptu interviews, he eats too much chocolate with Olivia before carrying her back to her mother’s car. He grabs Chinese takeout on the way back to his apartment, a sparsely furnished one-bedroom in Navy Yard, and fights the urge every step of the way to google the gorgeous White House photographer whose number is burning a hole in his pocket.

There’s so much he wants to know about her. And he could so easily find out so much if he wanted to right this moment, her whole career likely just a quick google search away, but he resists. Don’t dive in so quick, he tells himself. Don’t rush. Besides, he wants to hear it all from her herself.

He punches in the number at 7:02.

It rings only once before she answers.

“Hello, Marcus.”

#marcus pike fanfic #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x reader #Marcus pike x ofc #Pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #the mentalist fanfic

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babygirldabi · 1 year ago

Text

Runaway Part 6

CW: MDNI, smut with some plot, implied PTSD, mentions of abuse, mentions of past abuser, female reader, implied kidnapping, Daddy kink, creampie, Dabi is a dick but it’s fairly justifiable, I wrote this in short bursts in the past four months so the editing is probably rough, I think that’s all, let me know if i’ve forgotten anything- also this is my first time back writing so it’s not as long as I’d like it to be but I wanted to give y’all SOMETHING

I also want to say thanks for your patience, I haven’t released any writing since my friend’s unexpected death in February and I appreciate everyone who waited so kindly for me to get my shit together. It’s taken me a lot to pull out of this funk and start writing again but you all make it so worth it and ily much

Tags: @kierewrites @osamusriceballs

“Should have apology fucks more often,” he murmurs into your hair, and you roll your eyes.

“I thought you said you’d never make me mad again?”

“Oh, I’ll definitely make you mad again at some point, baby. I’m a fucking idiot.”

You start giggling, quietly at first before wheezing out a breath, and Dabi’s shoulders shake as he laughs with you.

He nuzzles your cheek, plants a soft kiss on your temple. “But I promise, I won’t mean to.”

“Appreciate that,” you whisper, feeling him settle against you as his breathing slows, drifting off. And then, impulsively, “I love you.”

Dabi’s eyes fly open.

“What?” His voice is a hoarse whisper in the dark.

“You don’t have to say it back,” you rush to say, almost at the same time. “It’s okay if you don’t say it back-”

“I…I-” You can feel him hesitating, stiff and uncertain before he sits up. You rise quickly with him.

“I’m sorry, I just needed to say it.” In the shadows, you can just barely make out his eyes, wide and staring at you.

Dabi is stunned. Nobody’s ever said this to him. Maybe his mom, when he was a little kid, but even if she did, he doesn’t remember. He’s not even sure he knows what love is. What he feels for you is strong, absolutely- but love? Does he love you?

“I… can’t?” He whispers miserably, gaze sliding down to the sheets. “...Know that’s probably not what you want to hear, I don’t wanna make you sad-”

“I’m not sad,” you say, almost too quickly, but you reach out and touch his arm softly. “It’s okay. Really. I just needed you to know.”

Dabi is silent for a few seconds, trying to discern the truth in your voice, assuming you’re just trying to make him feel better for being an emotionless piece of shit, but when he raises his eyes to face you again, he doesn’t see any sadness, or anger… no sign that you resent him.

Of course you don’t. You’re a goddamn angel.

You tug his arm downwards gently. “Let’s lay back down. Really, it’s okay.” You sink back down into the sheets, waiting for him to join you. Dabi swallows hard but follows your lead, slinking back down and pulling you towards him so that your back is to his chest. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, and you stroke his arm gently.

“I promise it’s okay.” And it is. You knew this was a 50/50 shot, given Dabi’s mysterious background and intolerance for sappy things. You know how he feels in other things that he does for you, the way that he treats you. And that’s enough for you.

Meanwhile, Dabi is once again feeling like a piece of shit, thankful for your graciousness, but a piece of shit nonetheless. He knows you wanted to hear it. He just couldn’t bring himself to say it.

Anything he’s ever thought he’s “loved” has left him. He feels like the words are almost a curse, ensuring his perpetual loss. He doesn’t want to feel like that again, if you decide to walk away. Dabi lays there, considering all this, until your breathing slows and deepens. Only then does he close his own eyes, and gives in to sleep.

He can worry about it tomorrow.

You wake up earlier than Dabi the following morning, slipping out of bed as quietly as possible so that you don’t disturb him. Dabi mumbles in his sleep and snakes an arm across the mattress in your direction, but otherwise doesn’t wake up.

Tiptoeing, you gather some clothes and slip out the door, heading for the shower.

The League’s bathroom used to be a fucking nightmare before you were hired. Dust and dirt had filled the drafty space, the checkerboard tiles, clawfoot tub, and outdated toilet all going unwashed for who knows how long…long enough to be a biohazard. In your “Bitch Duty” days, you scrubbed the everloving fuck out of it, and have made it a point to reclean at least once a week. Dabi insists you don’t have to, but you’ve explained to him- several times- that if a bathroom isn’t shiny, you cannot bathe in it.

How can you possibly feel clean if you’re bathing in a dirty tub? You’d asked him, when Dabi argued that your weekly ritual was ridiculous. He’d shrugged and muttered something about how it didn’t matter to him. Well, it matters to me, you’d responded primly. He’d rolled his eyes but smiled, and never brought it up again.

The room begins to fill with steam as you crank the hot water up, stepping out of your clothes and hopping in. If it weren’t for Toga, you truly believe there would only ever be a single bar of soap and maybe a two-in-one bottle on the shelves. Shaking your head at the thought, you reach for the strawberry-scented shampoo you share with Toga and begin to wash your hair; the most taxing part of your shower. Your hair is long and thick and takes a long time to work though. Somewhere in the middle of this, you think you hear the bathroom door open and then quickly shut again.

“Hello?” You call, praying you’re not gonna have to have a conversation with one of the boys about using the toilet while you’re in the shower again.

Yeah, it happened. You don’t want to talk about it.

It was Shigaraki.

Getting no response, you shrug and go back to what you were doing. You’ve just reached the ends of your hair when the shower curtain flies open and Dabi jumps in, making you shriek.

“Baby!”

He grins at you wickedly. “You didn’t wake me up.”

“I wanted you to get your rest!”

He shrugs, still smirking. “I’d rather be in here with you.”

“Well, if you’re gonna be in here with me, the least you can do is help me with my hair,” you sniff, feigning annoyance. Dabi chuckles, swiping one big hand across your soapy scalp.

“Looks like you already took care of that, sweetheart.”

You huff. “I still have to rinse it and then condition it. Make yourself useful, damn it.”

He snorts. “Whatever you say. Lean your head back,” he instructs, and you comply, closing your eyes as the warm water, accompanied by Dabi’s careful hands, rinse the suds from your locks. When he’s done, Dabi pulls the conditioner bottle down, squirts some in his hands, and smoothes it gently through your hair, humming absentmindedly.

His hands are so gentle that you shiver despite the warm water. “That feels nice,” you half-whisper, and Dabi chuckles.

“Any time you want, doll.”

You turn to wind both arms around his neck and pull him in for a kiss. After a long minute, he breaks the kiss and steps back, only sparing your pout a passing glance.

“Sorry. It’s my favorite part.” His eyes gleam as he squirts body wash into a washcloth, rubbing it into a foam, and steps back towards you. Gently, his hands push against your shoulders, encouraging you to lean back against the tiled wall.

You allow yourself to relax completely, melting under Dabi’s touch, warm cloth roaming the expanse of your skin, rubbing you into a lather. You practically purr with content. “D’you do this for all the girls?” You tease him lightly, cracking an eye to gaze at him.

Dabi cocks his head, genuinely considering. “Nah. First time, actually.” He sounds surprised. “It’s almost like you’re turning me into a fuckin’ simp, or somethin’,” he adds in a half-grumble, making you snort.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”��

He stoops his head briefly to kiss your sudsy shoulder. “Should,” he mutters, then directs you under the stream of hot water and begins to rinse you.

You close your eyes and lean into his chest, relishing in his long fingers running through your hair, washing away the conditioner, then skirt down your body, assisting in washing away the soapy trails. His cock twitches against your hip, and you hide a smile as your lips drift up to kiss his neck. Dabi inhales sharply and responds by abandoning his task to grip your ass with both hands, massaging your plump cheeks as his cock hardens against you.

“Fuck, doll,” he breathes, as you give him a devilish grin and turn to press yourself against the wall, offering your ass. His hand trails down your spine, pushing on your back to force you to arch higher for him. “Are you sure? Last night…”

You glance behind you, biting your lip at the sight of his lust-blown eyes sliding down your back. “Please?” You ask, so sweetly he groans in response.

“Yeah.”

With that, he seizes your waist, pulling you back against him and grinding his hard dick against your damp folds, teasing. You sigh, pushing back against his hips, encouraging him.

As you feel him lining up with your entrance, you brace your hands against the wall as well as you can, then close your eyes as he sinks into you. You’re still so sore from the previous night’s three rounds, but Dabi just…does something to you. The ache and the stretch feel delicious.

“Oh, fuck,” you moan, just as he sighs a quiet “Shhhhit.” Gently, carefully, you begin to push back against him; small, tentative pushes that only sink him in deeper. You are rewarded by Dabi’s quiet gasps, the feel of his fingers pressing into your waist so hard, you know he will leave bruises. You don’t mind.

In response to your little pushes, Dabi begins to match your thrusts- how can he not, with the way you’re sucking him in? “Goddamn, baby,” he breathes, pushing one hand into your back to keep you arched as he begins to fuck you harder. “Doin’ such a good job for me, sweetheart.”

“F-feels good,” you whimper, allowing him to take over, his thrusts nearly pushing your face into the wall.

“Yeah? You feel good, baby? Whose pussy is this?” He demands roughly, digging his fingers painfully into your hip.

“D-Daddy’s,” you whine, scrabbling against the tiled wall, trying to hold yourself up against the relentless pace. “Daddy’s pussy.”

“Yeah,” Dabi groans, pumping still harder, “Daddy’s tight little pussy, creamy little pussy…suckin’ me in like this- f-fuck, gotta cum soon, sweetheart, I’m not gonna last-”

Hearing that you’re the reason Dabi’s so unraveled only tightens the coil in your belly, and you begin to push back against him in earnest, feeling yourself climb higher and higher as he whispers filth in your ear. You don’t feel your orgasm coming until it hits you like a train.

“Fuck-!” You cry out, knees buckling as you cum.

“Good fucking girl,” Dabi gasps, catching you before you can fall and holding you against him so he can fuck you through your high, chasing after you seconds later.

“Fuck- ah-ahhh,” he moans, loudly, hips stuttering against yours as ropes of cum paint your walls. He pumps once, twice, three more times before he carefully pulls out, chest heaving as he turns you around and lets you nuzzle into his shoulder, both of you still shaking. You remain there, wrapped around each other, until the hot water runs out. Before it can change to ice cold, Dabi swiftly leans around you and shuts it off, then reaches outside the shower to grab a towel.

“C’mon, insatiable beast,” he teases, helping you step out of the tub before he begins toweling you down briskly. “Can’t stay here all day.”

“I wish we could,” you grumble, and he barks a laugh, handing you a smaller towel to wrap your hair in before grabbing one to tuck around his waist.

Once you’re both dried and dressed, you head to the kitchen for breakfast.

Spinner and Shig are seated at the table, Spinner reading the newspaper and Shig digging into a box of sugar cereal. Beyond them, Toga stands at the stove, scrambling eggs. The coffee maker pops and sputters and steams, filling the room with a fragrant promise of caffeine. You blink in surprise at how domestic this feels, how cozy.

“Good morning!” Toga sings, turning to beam at you and waving the spatula. “You’re just in time. Sit down.”

You obey, sitting down across from Shig, who throws you a brisk glance before digging into his Froot Loops.

Dabi plunks himself down in the seat next to you, snatching a section of newspaper from Spinner, who rolls his eyes but otherwise doesn’t complain.

“What’s going on in the world today?” He questions mockingly, scanning the headlines.

“Maybe more of the country-wide reach for the missing ex Hero?” Shig grumbles, casting you an irritated look. You stiffen as Dabi sighs.

“We talked about this,” he reminds Shig, in a tone that could pass as a warning if he wasn’t talking to his boss.

“Yeah, yeah, we’re a homeless shelter now. Got it.” Shig snorts and digs a spoon into his cereal.

“Shut up and eat your breakfast, Shiggy,” Toga interrupts cheerfully, setting a cup of coffee down in front of him. “Y/N is staying and we are better off for it. That’s just the way it’s gonna be.”

“Or what?” Shig snarls, but takes a sip of coffee anyway, malice fading from his tone.

“Or I leave with her. And, I suspect, Dabi leaves too.”

Your head shoots up to stare at Toga in amazement. She throws you a wink over Shig’s shoulder. Beside you, Dabi raises a singular eyebrow, his lips twitching into a smirk as he stares unblinkingly at his boss, a challenge.

Shig’s already-grayish face blanches at this, opening his mouth to respond before thinking better of it and drinking more coffee instead.

“Now.” Toga claps her hands together expectantly and beams at you. “How do you like your eggs, angel?”

* * *

After breakfast, Dabi announces that Shig is sending him on a day mission. Seeing you scowl at this, he chuckles, ducking down to kiss your cheek.

“I’ll only be a few hours, I promise. I’ll be back before nightfall.”

Your scowl remains; you had wanted the whole day with him. You wanted every whole day with him, but after your hiccup last night, expressing this doesn’t feel comfortable in the moment.

“You’re pouting extra hard today. Why?” Dabi sits on the end of the bed in front of you, reaching out and tugging at your hips until you shuffle between his knees, arms crossed.

“I’m not pouting extra hard.” You raise a hand to your neck, scratching a nonexistent itch, avoiding his eyes.

“Yes, you are. Use your words,” he teases, sapphire eyes peeking up at you between long strands of black hair.

You sigh. “I just hate it when you go on missions without me. I never know if you’re safe.”

He rolls his eyes at this, pulling you down into his lap. “You really don’t need to be worrying about my safety, Princess. I can handle myself.”

“No, I know. I just wanna go with you. I don’t like when- when we’re apart-” for some reason, this admission, despite everything else, makes your face flush with heat. It feels vulnerable, soft.

Dabi smiles and reaches up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before cradling your cheek. “It won’t be long.”

You sit on his bed and watch despondently as he pulls on his coat and his boots. “How long?” You finally ask, dressing the answer.

“A few hours, tops. I have to go uptown. I’ll be back before sunset.” He leans down to kiss the crown of your head. “I don’t know who else might be here today, so you might get bored, but you can watch tv or read any of my books. Make yourself at home.” You lift your face so he can kiss you properly before you go back to pouting. “It’ll go by fast, doll. I’ll be back soon.” With one last lingering look, he’s out the door and gone. You hear his faint footsteps cross the front room to the front door, and then that closes, and there is silence.

For a while, you try to stay busy. You really do.

You fold some laundry. You flip through a couple books, and watch tv listlessly. Finally, you wander around the house looking for Toga, or Spinner, or anyone- but the house is empty. Everyone is gone, out and about, to do whatever they need to do. Everyone but you.

You heave a sigh, padding back to your own bedroom, and throw yourself across the comforter. This is the price of the manhunt, the cost of staying with the League, and you get why they’re worried, but you’re just so bored.

I was a hero for years, and they act like I can’t take care of myself, you think resentfully.

Inspiration strikes.

You get up and hurry to the closet, rifling through soft clothes to find the hoodie you were wearing the last time you saw Hawks. Finding it, you seize it and plunge a hand into the pockets until you find what you were looking for.

Ah, there it is. Hawks’ number, neatly written on the folded piece of paper. You’re glad you left it in your pocket, you think vaguely, or else Dabi probably would’ve found it and burned it.

Flipping open your burner, you type the numbers into the message bar and shoot off a quick text:

Hey.

The response comes quickly, quicker than you expected.

Hawks: Who’s this?

Damn, I can’t believe you forgot about me so quickly. You JUST gave me your number.

Hawks: y/n?

The very same (: everyone’s gone and I’m bored.

Hawks: heard. I’m off patrol. wanna go get something to eat?

You begin to type a response, oh, no, I couldn’t, I’m not supposed to leave the house- - and find yourself erasing it just as quickly. You stare at the screen, chewing ferociously at your lower lip, considering.

This could be a good way to show the League that you’re okay on your own. Plus, you wouldn’t technically be leaving the house by yourself- you’d be with Hawks, and he’s working with the League.

But Dabi? A little voice whispers in the back of your head, causing you to hesitate, but only momentarily as you quickly shrug it off.

Hawks is my friend. He’s gonna have to get used to it at some point.

You open the burner and rapidly click out a response: sounds great. Can you meet me here?

Hawks: see you in twenty.

Hawks is positively beaming as you shut the front door, his wings ruffling excitedly at the sight of you.

“Nice disguise,” he teases, scanning you and taking in the black leggings, oversized black hoodie (Dabi’s), baseball cap, and sunglasses. “You look like an undercover celebrity.”

He’s one to talk; a black baseball cap covers his thick honey hair, and dark sunglasses have replaced his usual translucent yellow ones.

“That’s kind of how it feels,” you sigh, your tone expressing just how much you don’t want to be a celebrity. Ever. You switch to a lighter subject as you begin to stroll down the street together. “What’s the plan?”

“Well, I was thinking about a restaurant, somewhere nice, sit-down, but…that’s not really safe for you. So if you’re okay with some street cart food, I have the perfect place.”

You frown. “Sorry.”

Hawks looks surprised. “Sorry why?”

“You should be able to sit down and have a meal if you want. I make that impossible.”

Hawks snorts. “Please. Restaurants are a heroes worst nightmare, anyway. Everyone scrambling and scraping and asking for autographs. I’d rather do something lowkey, anyway.”

You’re not quite sure you believe that, but shut your mouth regardless and follow Hawks up several side streets, coming into a more populated area. People of every age fill the streets, laughing, arguing, chattering. Several food carts steam here and there on the sidewalks, releasing tantalizing scents into the air. You tilt your face back and inhale deeply, mouth watering. Hawks laughs.

“What do you smell?”

You consider this, sniffing more intentionally. “Dango…Korokke…Onigiri?” You look to see him nodding in approval, smiling.

“Which sounds best?”

“Onigiri,” you answer immediately, and he chuckles and leads you over to one particular vendor off to the right.

“Wait here,” he mutters, and you nod and step back as he approaches the vendor and places an order. You take the spare minutes to take in the street scenes before you, people watching nosily. You’re so focused that you don’t notice Hawks approaching until he’s right in front of you; you jump at his voice so close to your ear.

“Lunch!” He holds the rice balls up as proudly as if he made them himself. Handing one to you, he leads you to a bench a few feet up and pulls you down next to him to eat.

It’s nice to sit in a public space with a long-time friend, something you certainly thought you’d never get the chance to do again- and just talk. Hawk tells you about his work with the League, his working relationships with Dabi and Shigaraki, his unexpected fondness for Toga. You lose yourself in hours of conversation before your phone starts ringing.

Oh, shit.

You don’t need to glance at caller ID to know who it is.

Hawks doesn’t see your anxiety and smiles wryly. “Are you past curfew?”

“Well…the thing is…curfew is kind of nonexistent.” You swallow hard, still staring down at the burner.

Hawks looks back at you blankly, not understanding. “Meaning?”

“Meaning…I’m not really supposed to be out of the house, and I decided to go, anymore.”

“Aw, shit.” Hawks sighs. “You’re gonna get me in trouble, aren’t you?”

“Don’t be silly-” You go to answer the phone, but the ringing has stopped. Within two seconds it begins to ring insistently again. You gulp, then flip the phone open and hold it up to your ear. “Hi, baby.”

“Where are you?” Dabi’s voice is frantic, and a wave of guilt washes over you. You should’ve told him.

Hawks laughs easily in the background. “Sorry, man. We lost track of time.”

There’s a long silence on the other end, and when Dabi speaks again, his voice has gone cold as ice. “Where are you.”

“We aren’t far,” you say hastily, nearly tripping over yourself in your haste to stand up, handing Hawks your trash and watching him amble away to discard it. “A few blocks up. We had lunch.”

Silence again. “You weren’t supposed to leave Headquarters.”

You sigh. “Baby, really-”

“Stay where you are,” Dabi instructs, and then the call ends, abruptly.

Fuck.

You turn to Hawks as he approaches, and he frowns. “You’re white as a ghost. Guess that didn’t go so well?”

“We need to get back,” you say shortly, turning on your heel and heading back in the direction you came. Hawks catches up easily, ducking his head and trying to read your face.

“Y/n, he can’t keep you in the house all day. That’s like…prison.”

“It was for my own safety. I shouldn’t have just left, I should’ve at least let someone know-”

“Y/n, hey, hold on-” Hawks catches one of your hands and turns you to face him, holding both of you up in the crowd. “Is he-is he hurting you?”

“What? No!” Yanking your hand out of his grasp, you stare at Hawks in horror. “He would never hurt me. Never.”

The winged Hero hesitates. “Then why are you acting so afraid of him?”

You open your mouth to answer, but you’re interrupted.

Hawks has finally been recognized.

Cries of, “Hawks!” “Hey, Hawks!” “What’s up, Hero?!” Begin to rise from voices in the crowd, a sea of eyes turning on you both slowly but surely. Hawks utters a curse under his breath, takes your hand, and pulls you away. “We need to go, now.”

Already, people are holding up cameras and cell phones, flashes going off in every direction as the crowd becomes more excited over spotting the high-ranking Hero in public, doing civilian things. You put your head down quickly, pulling your hood up and walking as fast as you can behind Hawks as he pushes through the crowd.

This is why, you realize. This is why Dabi didn’t want me to leave. Someone-anyone- could recognize me. Report it to the authorities. Report it to Inferno.

That’s as good as a death sentence.

By now, the paparazzi have joined the fray, clattering after you in the crowd, calling out. “Hawks, is this your new girlfriend?” “Who’s the pretty lady, Hawks?”

Hawks only moves faster, yanking you down a short alley and into another around the back of the first. You have tears in your eyes, just short of giving into a panic attack, huffing as you struggle to keep up with his much-longer strides. You open your mouth to ask him if there’s any way he can just fly you away when a burst of blue fire comes so close behind you, it warms your back.

You jump as the crowd screams and begins to scatter, fleeing in every direction. Dabi stands at the head of the alleyway, blasting blue fire from his palms towards the crowd. A distraction. Granted, a messy one for Hawks, but-

“Fuck, man,” Hawks groans as Dabi turns and strides towards you, his face cold and stiff with anger just lurking under the surface, “Now I have to handle this-”

“Then you should handle it, Hero,” Dabi spits out, not even looking at you as he grabs your arm and yanks you away. “Do your job, protect civilians after you’ve put her life in fucking goddamn danger.”

Hawks looks stricken, opening his mouth to argue and then faltering as Dabi’s words settle in. He’s right. You know it, Dabi knows it, and Hawks knows it.

“I’m sorry,” he mouths to you, and then turns to check in on the still-freeing crowd.

Your only choice is to turn around and try to keep up with Dabi.

“Dabi- I-”

“Not here,” he says shortly, not slowing his pace. “Home.”

“How did you find me so quickly?” You think to ask, still measuring his tone.

“Your burner has a tracker.”

“A tracker-”

“Yeah. In case you were in danger-” Dabi’s voice is sharp as razor blades, “and needed to be found.”

You don’t say anything else.

Breathlessly, you allow Dabi to lead you down the maze of streets that bring you back to Headquarters, not saying a word until he pulls you inside and shuts the door, locking all four of the locks silently behind him. You stand behind him, panting from the near-run he kept you at, and pull the hat, sunglasses and hood off your head.

“Thank you,” you finally begin, “I-”

Dabi whirls to face you, and you’re instantly alarmed at the anger on his face. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

“I-I was bored, nobody was here, I-”

“Do you understand the panic I was in when I got home and you were nowhere? You never told anyone you were leaving, you just left, if Shig finds out, he’ll kill you- I know you’re not this fucking stupid-”

You feel your heart drop into your stomach at the last part. Dabi watches the pain cross your face but doesn’t back off, plowing ahead.

“I thought you were dead- someone could have seen you, someone MIGHT have seen you, for all we fucking know, Inferno could be on his fucking way here right now-”

“Stop.” Your voice is small, but steady. Dabi doesn’t listen.

“...Do everything I can to keep you safe and you’re sneaking out behind my back to have a lunch date in public with a goddamn Hero-”

“STOP!” You finally shout, your anger waking you up at last. “Don’t speak to me like that, okay, I’m sorry that I made you worry, but-”

“OH, SHE’S FUCKING SORRY,” Dabi shouts, laughing mirthlessly. “I have all of one rule in this house and it’s-”

“Stay at home, cook and clean, obey,” You spit back, just as furious now.

“I never said you had to cook and clean-”

“You didn’t exactly stop me, either, did you?” You yell back. “Do you know how unhealthy it is to just keep me here, stuck inside all day- I’m lonely, I’m alone, I’m-”

“Alive.” Dabi’s voice is burning. “You are alive. But you would rather go risk it all, put yourself at risk, put us all at risk, because you’re fucking bored-”

“You can’t just keep me in the house all day!”

“Oh, would you rather go back to being Inferno’s punching bag, huh? Because if you pull this shit, that’s what you’re gonna be. That, or his first fucking charge.”

A silence falls heavy into the room. You stare at the floor, blinking back tears as hard as you can. Dabi’s chest heaves, trying to catch his breath over an anger he can’t quite get a gasp on, and he realizes it’s fear, fear is making him so hateful and mean and he can’t stop because you could’ve died-

Until you shove past him, making your way to the door.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

“I’m going to see Hawks. Since I’m apparently too much of an issue for you,” you hiss, unlocking the locks with trembling hands.

“Yeah, you go and fucking do that,” Dabi snarls as you swing open the door and step out. “Go see if he can protect you better than I can. See if he can save you. I’m fucking done.”

You don’t answer, just shut the door behind you, and then you’re gone.

Dabi stands in the open room, panting, staring at the door, and then sinks to the floor as his legs give out.

Gone. Gone. Gone.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Hawks asks, sliding the card into the door and letting you into the hotel room. “I’m sorry, I wish you could stay with me but the paparazzi are always watching my place- there’s a lot of windows…”

“This is great, really.” You step into the room, setting a small bag down on the single bed, and immediately go to the windows to close the blinds. The hotel is a smaller skyscraper, and you’re pretty high up, but you don’t trust that there aren’t camera drones out there in the dark, somewhere. “You really didn’t have to do all this, Hawks-”

“I did,” he interrupts quickly. “I did. I got you into this mess.”

“No,” you sigh. “I got myself into this mess.”

After leaving Headquarters, you’d turned the GPS location off on your cell, then called Hawks. It had taken a few hours to find a hotel that was discreet, blending in with the city, and offered extra privacy. Hawks had brought you a small bag of women’s clothes- probably pieces saved and set aside from a number of one night stands, but they were clean, anyway- and paid the hotel extra in cash to ensure nobody would keep a record of him checking in with an unknown civilian. The hotel manager, probably thinking this was a lowkey hookup, had been all too happy to wink and smile and accept the wad of cash you caught Hawks palming him at check in.

You weren’t sure if this was a forever thing, or just for a few days to clear your head before you tried again with Dabi. You weren’t even sure if you wanted to see Dabi again after everything that had gone down this afternoon, but the small ache in your chest that you hadn’t yet allowed yourself to process gave you the idea that you would be giving him a call sooner rather than later.

“So.” Hawks follows you into the room, firmly locking and bolt-locking the door behind him before turning to face you. “I’m on duty tonight. Will you be okay by yourself- do you need anything, food?”

You shake your head. “I’ll be fine. Go to work, please don’t worry about me, I really appreciate all your help-”

Hawks rolls his eyes but smiles gently at you. “What are friends for? Hey, also- there’s some snacks in there, some bottled water, brought you an extra phone charger if you need it. Toothbrush, toothpaste, you should be covered for the night. Tomorrow I can bring you breakfast and we’ll figure out what more there is to be done, okay?” Quickly, he strides across the room and wraps you in a feathery hug, ducking his head down onto your shoulder. “I really am sorry. I should’ve been more careful today.”

You return the hug gladly. “It’s okay,” you say sincerely. “It really is okay. Accidents happen. Thank you for all your help.”

He smiles at you, then slips through the blinds covering the glass door that leads to the balcony. You follow, leaning against the door to watch him ruffle his wings and put his yellow glasses back on. Tossing you one last smile over his shoulder, he nods. “Lock that door, too. I’ll knock in the morning.” With that, he takes off in flight. You watch him swoop gracefully into the night, towards the upper district, and then pad back inside, sliding the door shut, locking it, and covering it with the blinds again. Then you turn to face the large, empty room with a sigh.

For white noise, you click on the TV, but nothing on any channel seems to interest you. You take a quick shower, brush your hair and teeth, and settle into bed, plugging the charger into the lamp on the bedstand, and click off the lights, filling the room with the blue light of the TV. Impulsively, you grab your burner and flip it open, checking for any texts or missed calls from Dabi.

Nothing. Radio silence.

Tears fill your eyes as you gaze at the empty inbox, thinking back to the harsh words and violent emotions from both of you earlier in the day. Processing now, you accept your part, you shouldn’t have gone out, it wasn’t okay- but Dabi’s anger, Dabi’s harsh words, so like Inferno when he was disobeyed- it was triggering for you. You don’t regret standing up for yourself, but you wished you’d just taken space, not left entirely. If you had, you might have been in Dabi’s arms right now, made up already.

After today…you’re not sure you want that.

But you miss him.

Dashing the tears from your eyes in frustration, you toss your phone back on the bedstand and snuggle under all the covers, burrowing deep, and wait to get warm. You force yourself to drift off, before you do something reckless, like call him.

You wake up an indiscriminate amount of time later, confused. It’s still dark- too dark. Did I turn off the TV before I went to sleep? The monitor is off, it’s screen black and dead. There’s a breeze-

You turn and realize with abject horror that the sliding door is wide open, the blinds fluttering against the wind. What the fu-

A hand covers your mouth so that you can’t scream, something heavy and blunt hits the back of your head, and everything goes black.

#dabi #dabi smut #dabi x female reader #dabi x you #mha smut #league of villains x reader

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serenescribe · 1 year ago

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got tagged by @kimium in a music tag game here (thank you, kim!) and i figured i may as well get this post written before the next twst update drops tomorrow and permanently alters my brain chemistry q-q

rules: post 5 songs you actually listen to, and tag 10 of your followers/mutuals (except i def don’t have that many people to tag TT)

i freaking love music with all my heart and soul so uhh— time to tangent! under the cut. this got long. just scroll past if you didn’t follow me for this shit ahfndhgdgf

1. bathroom community by glass beach (pinkshift cover)

i stumbled upon this song earlier this year thanks to spotify (yes, i actually look at what they recommend! i need more songs!) and god. GOD. this song has held me in a choke hold since i first listened to it. i desperately want to create an oc from this song, or a story of some sort; the story it paints with its lyrics just has so much goddamn potential for a character.

i love singing this song, even if i can’t sing very well. it’s just a lot of fun, with how intense it is! plus the lyrics... god, the lyrics. i usually like to gravitate to songs with more vague lyrics, but something about this song really soothes that teenage version of me tucked away somewhere in my soul, still angsting about the world.

i think my favourite line is this one, in the second verse — “he said you’ll never be okay if you don’t come to your senses / with you, everything’s the end of the world.” though “flipping through a spiral notebook for some / sad, hopeless words to turn into a liturgy” slaps hard too.

2. everybody’s falling in love by *repeat repeat

oh, i have a fic idea i long to write with this one. actually, i have an oc story (which is its own thing i won’t talk about) based on this song, but i have a fic idea i want to write too. this song just evokes so much whimsy of people falling in love, a constant spiral of romance! and it brings to mind a soulmate au — except instead of soulmate marks already existing and being common knowledge, they just... suddenly appear. which leads to a spiral of people figuring it out, relationship drama — what if two people who were dating aren’t soulmates? people who were platonic who suddenly get marks for each other? who gets together? who doesn’t? i’unno, i’m like... relationship introspection extraordinaire. might be a silly idea now that i’ve typed it out, but it’d be fun.

ah— for the song itself... yeah, it’s light on the lyrics, but like i said, it’s whimsical! it’s fun! i love the announcement at the start to really set the scene — this is a stage, and people falling in love is the show for everyone’s entertainment. yeah, it’s just— it’s a fun song. i don’t have much else to say.

3. sex sells by lovejoy

oh... (longing sigh) this song.

i listen to it a lot whenever i’m in a depressed funk. it just resonates with me a lot; the lyrics remind me of being second place to someone else, of a relationship slipping, that kind of thing. actually, the fact that i haven’t listened to it as much lately is probably a sign of my improving mental health (HA!)

i conceived a fic au before based off this song before — for a different fandom, not twst. it’s kind of shelved, i might turn it into an oc story instead because i still like the concept. but the inspiration i drew from this song turned into a very complex introspection of a close relationship (think childhood friends to lovers) crumbling and shattering under jealousy, envy, et cetera, et cetera. wrote like, one short ficlet off that? never posted it, but i’m still happy with it.

ah... lyrics. yeah, this one’s obvious; my favourite line is “how’s it feel to be so loved yet so alone?”

4. poplar st. by glass animals

was struggling between a lot of songs (how do you expect me to pick just FIVE?!) but considering how a line from poplar st. is literally my blog title on my main... figured it was a no brainer to include it. i wish i could convey my thoughts and feelings on this song, but this is one of the very rare few songs where, if you asked me to tell you what i like about it, i’d be stumped.

i’m not good with identifying instruments or explaining any of that, but the almost dreamy atmosphere of poplar st. hooks me splendidly. the vocals fit beautifully, to the point where they blend with the music and almost seem hard to pick out. i like how the song seems to tinge with darkness and fragment as it goes on — both lyrically and musically. it just scratches a lot of itches for me. would love to try writing something based off it someday? might just be oc stuff though, given the lyrics.

lyrics... the whole chorus slaps. it’s so lovely. all the lines about flowers, and then “i am a true romantic / free falling love addict” just tops it off beautifully <3

5. schoolin’ by everything everything

ah... hahaha.

not to sound cringe on main but if i had to ascribe a song to myself, it would be this one. my friends know — oh, they know — just how much schoolin’ resonates with me. if i divulged all my thoughts here, this post would turn into a criminally long essay, so i’ll exercise restraint for now.

like, i genuinely think this song permanently altered my brain chemistry. so much of it just resonate with me — the scathing observations, the metaphors slamming society, the absolute raging emotions in the voice of the singer, the resentment brimming just underneath. it’s a song about mistakes, it’s a song about learning from them or not, it’s a song about conformity and education and straying or conforming to it. it’s a song about questioning the world and ripping apart the people who are too scared to do so. it’s a wickedly poetic song once you rip apart and dissect every little bit of the lyrics, and i fucking love it with all my heart and soul.

too many lyrics in this song. and yet i have always known my favourite lines. “so learn me anything good / and teach me something that works.” there’s something about that that clicks with me so deeply. a single, scathing request: let me learn anything useful at all, and teach me something that can work for me.

also shoutout to the entire coda (outro) of the song for being the best 1m 50s of my life.

tagging: @llondonfog @olivebranch311 @pitruli @digdeepergravedigger09 @lakuronekobaka @pixelfun20 @reubeam @0rchidm4ntis (cheating? by also tagging friends who follow my main but not this sideblog? sue me. also i hope y’all are ok w being tagged in this HGFNDHGDF sorry if youre not ;;; just ignore if that’s the case)

#ell rambles #tag games #i don't? know? twst drops tomorrow man i Need to get this out #im going to be irreverssibly changed after the update #sorry 2 be cringe on my writing blog. it will happen again #people who followed me for twst now get smacked in the face by my song ramblings #writing? coming soon maybe?? after tomorrow's update?? if i get any brainworms like w the prev one

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basedkikuenjoyer · 2 years ago

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Daww, this is so cute! We got a big ol happy certified sweetie Kawamatsu hanging out with Hiyori and some cranes. I’m loving the teahouse setting, especially a nicer one with grass growing again. That’d actually be a pretty cool party trick if Hiyori could keep an oragami aloft with a folding fan. The more I think of these two the more I think of Wano’s penchant for parallel stories and why Kawamatsu sought out Ringo to commit seppuku. Yeah, makes sense if 13yo Kiku missing Izo was not unlike younger Hiyori. I could see a guy like Kawamatsu really taking it poorly if he already had baggage about not being able to snap his big sis out of a funk and that old wound resurfaced with Hiyori putting him first again. Let’s forget that though, best Kappa is smiling and entertained. You know, if you get Kin’emon drunk enough he can keep that bird in the air too...

I’ve had my fun. This is still the 1080 Musings. We wanna talk about how much this crane motif rears its majestic head within as well?

Ooh, big Blackbeard chapter. Pairs nicely with Shanks, and with a dash of Koby to make this as deeply atavistic in this series as we can. First off, we’ve talked about that “Part 2″ or sho wrapping up recently. This is two chapters now that don’t feature the Straw Hats after leaving off on a rather dire cliffhanger. Yeah, feels like an Act Break without the curtains right? First one with Law growing boobies was half a chapter same as between 1/2. This one feels a lot like the extended segment between 2/3. Next chapter might be a little more of the world or we might slip back into Egghead proper, who knows? But I wouldn’t be shocked at all to see us return to an advanced story. Scrambling to get out of there. Thing about “part 3″ of a Kishotenketsu plot though...ten by design should be a jarring shift.

Not to undermine the substance of Blackbeard & Co’s. story though. It’s...all about infighting, too much sheer power, rushing into things. In contrast with Koby being selfless, looking out for the common people, and so cutely humble. Not to mention this reputation as a hero. It’s all over, we’re deepening the ties between SWORD & Thriller Bark characters through Perona. All while Drake remains the unfired Chekov’s Gun. Interestingly, and making for a great potential tie to the post-Act 1 break, using a very “Wano” trick we can now ascertain which of the BBs is there at Egghead. Some combination of Kuzan, Lafitte, and Catarina Devon. The Crescent Moon Hunter is obviously the one I’m most interested in. Opens up another fun mechanical way to play with these themes, whether or not they directly include Kiku somehow.

This is where my mind goes when you have a copycat impostor thing going on. Yeah Bon was fun but they knew about him. This is from Yu Yu Hakusho again, start of Chapter Black. Yusuke had to pick who was the copy. That’s it. You could even make Jinbei suss it out and give him a good moment but it’s perfect for a newbie to show they belong. If you have something like I’ve suggested for Kiku though, it could work just as well in reverse. We the reader know the threat. Catarina corners say...Nami while impersonating Franky. Acts sus, easy smoke out right? “Hey! See the newbie around?” “Oh Jin--” ZAP! Either way, Catarina interests me because of how she factors into that cutaway right after Act 1 and meeting Kiku. Blackbeard is always a foil for Luffy, so there’s definitely a reason we’re seeing themes like infighting and making the same mistakes as Rocks. But now...our main event!

This girl is rocketing up the Blorbo Rankings. Combat pacifist with Vegapunk’s flower gun? Being all coy about radiating that wife energy? Lance Corporal Bearington back there guarding some peach cobbler and sweet tea for Koby? Remember when we saw Stussy/Sentomaru side-by-side, noted how they’re both like if you made one of Kiku’s halves a whole person? Yeah...so for SWORD we have this sweetie next to cutesy dominatrix Kujaku doubling up on both crane & peacock nods! Hibari’s a lark by the way, and her name means Skylark. Check out the fan theory more popular in Japan about some noteworthy similarities between her and Akainu though. That’s compelling...especially since Akainu is one of the big reasons Luffy needs to be composed. Either way, yeah Kujaku & Hibari together give me that same vibe as Sento/Stussy. I’d dare say even closer, but maybe that’s because of the actual crane here.

Prince Grus! Grus meaning “crane” in Latin. First, Glorp-Glorp Fruit is amazing Viz. And the lil golem is so cute! Maybe you could say something about how the golems are a little like Basil Hawkins’s power, which was always antithetical to the virtue Kiku’s story displays, but here it’s obviously a lot more benign. Main thing to me though is look at how coordinated SWORD are in contrast to Kidd/Blackbeard. This was a hitjob and a damn effective one. Setting up Garp for the easy layup. I love this as a thematic contrast to what’s going on in the main arc! I’ll just say it too, SWORD’s gonna be a favorite if they keep this up.

#one piece #chapter 1080 #post-Wano Musings

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moremusic · 8 months ago

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This weeks guests sounds like Pink Floyd, the Doors and a bit of Hendrix. I have been a fan since I first heard them on Spotify, and I hope to see them live soon. Here is Emmett from Maisie.

Tell us a little bit about Maisie? Members, how did you get together etc?

The beginnings of Maisie goes back around 6 years ago after I had started a deep dive into the psychedelic music realm (Think Pink Floyd, The Beatles, Tame Impala and early Psychedelic Pxrn Crumpets). Since the bands creation I’ve been the main driver of the project and because of that has seen a number of changes over the years, with the band still being inspired by psychedelia, blues and rock n roll but now we are very groove and energy focused taking huge influence from the funk and soul. These changes have been a result of the growth and development of my personal perspective and connection to the expression of music, performing and song writing over the years and as well shifts in members to really embody the same feelings and passion.

What are you short and long terms goals?

The short term focus right now is to finish our first full length LP and to be able to express and capture that in a cohesive manner. Along side the album our short term goals are to expand our audience and focus on breaking out of Adelaide and playing more interstate shows.

The Long Term goal is to be able to take our expression and passion that is within our performance and share that with the world and inspire as many people as possible, a big long term goal is international touring and playing festivals, taking our music to the US and to Europe!

What is your career highlight so far?

Honestly career highlight is just having people sing the lyrics to a song that we wrote back to us before we can even get to it. We’ve supported a band from the US (Earthless) and a few of our fave interstate bands but the moments of connection, mentioned above, is what we do it for.

Your song “Hot Juice” is my personal favourite of yours. What is the inspiration behind it?

Hot Juice is a funny one, the origins of this one came around the time I was going through a big Parliament/Funkadelic phase and so when some really stupid lyrics just slipped out telling the story of a raunchy 70s pool cleaner and a love affair with a car we just had to roll with it. Conceptually and Lyrically with the car theme I took great inspiration from my favourite Van Halen tracks, “Panama” and David Lee Roth’s use of cheeky car metaphors.

Have you got any new music coming out? Or are you still recording?

We are still in a bit of a recording phase for the majority of the album but we have just announced our next single, “Sugar for Dinner” is due for release on April 11. It’ll be the very first single that was written and performed by the current members of the band.

The whole band is super excited about this one, as it took us a long time to get the vision the way we wanted it, but personally I am incredibly eager to have it out in the world because I absolutely love and adore everyone in the band and it feels like we have made something special together and is the most cohesive piece of music I’ve ever been a part of.

Who are the greatest influences on you? Individually and as a band?

Individually I would say, as an artist and guitarist Jimi Hendrix is probably the biggest one, The Beatles, Khruangbin, Tame Impala and David Gilmour of Pink Floyd and Marvin Gaye are big in there too all of those artist never stopped exploring, growing and trying new things which to me is the most important part of life let alone music.

As a performer I am greatly influenced by Michael Hutchence of INXS the way he could charm and take control of a crowd is something I admire and think is one of the rarest things and another big mention is David Byrne from the Talking Heads and I think that can speak for itself.

As a band theres a huge mix bag of influences similar to the likes of Funkadelic, Yussef Dayes, Santana, Led Zeppelin, Creed and the Doors.

What are your opinions of the Adelaide music scene?

I think the Adelaide music scene is super fun and diverse, I’ve seen some extraordinary bands over the years, I honestly don’t think it gets the recognition it deserves both within and outside of South Australia, I feel bigger Aussie music media outlets don’t give enough credit to the raw, exciting sounds that are coming out of Adelaide. A few of my fave Adelaide artists include the Empty Threats, Coldwave, Sons Of Zoku and The Hazys.

Favourite Adelaide venue to play?

At the moment it’s probably the Cranker, just feels like home, it’s sweaty, it’s crowded.

If you could invite 4 musicians to dinner dead or alive) who would you invite?

I swear my answer changes every time but I always have Jeff Buckley on there alongside Jimi Hendrix, Marvin Gaye and Jack White. I feel as through there would plenty of good convos w those guys.

Any gigs coming up you want to promote?

We’re Playing March 16 on the Gov main stage which is a great, iconic room and the big one is our “sugar for Dinner” single launch on April 20 at the Queens theatre which we have a few surprised in store!!

Gibson or Fender? What gear do you play?

I’m definitely more of a Fender man, guitar wise I mainly switch between my Fender US strat or my Rickenbacker.

If you were given the chance to support one artist in the world, who would you pick?

Right now, it’d be Tame Impala, one of my biggest inspirations over the years. but I’ve also heard that George Clinton and the Parliament-Funkadelic are touring at the moment, I wouldn’t say no to that!

Dream festival line up?

It’d have to be something like Coachella haha

If you were stuck on a deserted island with only one record, what would it be?

Probably The Universe Smile Upon You by Khruangbin

Where can people find out more about you?

via our socials - we’re most active on instagram

and you can find links to our music and upcoming shows here (including our Sugar for Dinner Launch show on Saturday April 20): https://linktr.ee/maisieband_

#Spotify

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narrators-journal · 8 months ago

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Sparkles my eyes cutely at you baoko, do whatever, wuv u honeysuckle

Oh boy! Time for a bit of a ramble lolol. So, these past few days, maybe even weeks, have been pretty rough on my mental health. My depression is coming back stronger, my insecurities are cropping up, and, I think I’m feeling some sort of creative restlessness. Not only in my visual artwork, but in my writing too, I feel like I’m just repeating concepts, like my smut is getting bland and rushed. I think I’ve just, written too much in one go, both length-wise, and content-wise lol.

Because of that, I think I’m going to clean out my asks from both Ao3 and Tumblr and go on some sort of hiatus. For how long? Who knows, it’s hard to judge with how I feel towards writing at this moment. But, I doubt I’ll stay gone too long, and I’ll likely post writing of my own still, I can never NOT be creative, lol. But, I think I bit too much off with the current asks I’ve been working on.

So! If you sent in an ask that I haven’t gotten to, I’m so sorry. I don’t make it a habit to throw out asks, I usually just push through my anxieties to get them out, but shit’s rough right now, man...But, thank you for sticking with me, and maybe at some point in the future, when I’m back to taking asks, u can rework ur asks and send them back in. Hopefully by then I’ll have shaken off this funk.

“I hope you enjoy your Valentines day, come again!” Keiko Yamada chirped to the final customer of the late afternoon’s rush with a wave. And, once they had left with the chime of the door’s bell and their arms full of treats, the dark-haired woman moved on to a light round of clean up to prepare for the next bout of customers.

Under the light song on her speakers, Keiko went to wipe down her tables, collect and toss whatever trash she found at the seating areas, and then swept. All the while, she kept an ear out for the tell-tale jangle of her door and did her best to spot any other trash on her way back behind the counter. But, she paused when she spotted something on that counter.

The place was carefully cluttered with examples of her baked goods, all kept neatly stored in glass cases or on cute, porcelain presentation dishes. But, amongst those platters and cases of colorful holiday desserts, was a new addition to that clutter. A small crimson box, a bit bigger than her hand, adorned with light pink designs of flowers woven atop the red. Which, wasn’t a surprise in the larger picture for the date, as most bakeries offered small boxes of candies for a loved one.

However, Keiko hadn’t put out any of those items for Valentines day, she’d only put out her usual cupcakes, cakes, and cream puffs, no boxes of chocolates. So, the green-eyed woman looked down at the small box of, at least likely, chocolates with utter confusion. Did a customer leave their gift here by mistake? Should I leave it be or put it in the back in case they come back? She thought as she examined the intricate floral pattern on the box more closely. Which, was when she noticed a slip of paper that poked out from beneath it. And, normally, the brown-haired woman wouldn’t stoop so low as to peek at someone else’s likely love note. After all, if a customer really had left their candy in her bakery, it would be insanely rude. But...curiosity won in that moment.

Happy Valentines, Keiko.

It was a simple note, only three little words. But, the neat handwriting on such a small note card still managed to dump a bucket of ice water into her veins. Who the fuck left this here?! How long has this been sitting on the counter? How did I miss it? The baker questioned, her emerald eyes as wide as dinner plates in the storm of her panicked, rushed thoughts.

Yet, when she did finally think to scan over her bakery for any sign of an explanation, it, naturally, offered no explanation for the gift. The building around her simply sat empty, only the soft music from the speakers to fill the air with life despite the slow stream of foot traffic that the baker could see outside of her doors.

All Keiko could do, was stand in front of the counter, the simple note held dumbly in her hand while she tried to come to terms with the fact that somebody had snuck into her business, left her a gift, and she had failed to notice.

#Persona 2 #Baofu x OC #persona #ask #Baofu #OC x canon #implied Baofu lol #Valentines #scenario

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xpeachesncream · 3 years ago

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sticks & stones (myg) | one shot

part of the titillating touches collab

♢ genre: (18+) friends to lovers, ex-fwb, mutual pining, massage au | fluff, sprinkle of angst, smut

♢ summary: surprise! you're gifted a free massage at the nearby massage parlor called "Blissful Hands." you've heard about the parlour about once or twice, never thought about stepping foot inside to take advantage of their services. thinking you could use the massage to relax, rid yourself of any stress and built up tension, you walk into the parlor excited for your first massage opportunity. however, when you realize your masseur is no other than Min Yoongi himself, all excitement flies out the window. never did you think you'd reunite with your biggest crush in college, the one that got away. they say sticks and stones may break your bones but words will never hurt you— but in this case, you find out that words have actually ruined a lot for you and Yoongi. and stones.. well, they'll do a lot to ease that instead.

♢ pairing: reader x masseur!myg

♢ words: 18.4k

♢ warnings: i did as much research as possible on hot stone massages pls forgive me, mature language/cussing, sexually implied content, sprinkle of angst??, miscommunication, rumors and assumptions, unspoken feelings, awkward reunion lol yoongi isnt really having it at first, oc shoulda tried harder tho oof, he does have a soft spot for oc, drinking/intoxication, flashback scenes, use of pet names like baby and princess, cuddles, after care, making out, unprotected sex, missionary, multiple orgasms, use of oil and hot stones in foreplay, fingering, clit play, slight marking, sprinkle of spit play, breast play, smut on the massage table ://, pulling out, grinding, edited but unedited lolol sorry if i missed anything!

♢ note: thank you so, so much to @ressjeon for thinking of me and for inviting me to be a part of this collab! i had tons of fun writing this <33 also, big shoutout again to @ilikemesometaetaes & @jimilter for this beautiful ass banner! please check out the other works part of this collab, they’re all amazing and won’t disappoint!

—i also wanted to let you all know i’ll be continuing my break and i won’t be as active on here for awhile. i need a moment to rest since i’ve been feeling pretty down and unmotivated lately. just gotta take a moment to shake off this funk. but, i’ll be writing behind the scenes from time to time in between pulling my personal stuff together. 💞

♢ support me!

It's that time of the year again.

It's that time of the year again where your loved ones sweetly greet you, your coworkers shove plans and alcohol in your face because you aren't getting any younger— Immediate family reminding you where you need to be at this point in your life.

Married, with kids, doing some other job that brings in more money.

You know what it is.

No harm, they say. Just a reminder. It's your birthday for fucks sake, and they wanna give you a reminder?

Anywho, you park your car after a long day of work, just now hanging up the phone after your mom and dad had called to greet you [aka bringing up said reminder mentioned above] in the most loving way they can. You know they come from a good place, and you know that they support you either way, so you can't help but give off a tiny sigh and respond with a cute little 'yes, I know but thank you, I love you' in the end. You grabbed your purse and headed up the steps to your apartment, grabbing the mail on the way up without giving it another look as you set it near your keys at the entrance way. You immediately slip out of your heels first, then make your way into the kitchen to wash your tupperware from lunch.

It'll be a quiet birthday, and that's okay with you.

That's how you've always preferred it, anyway. Quiet, lowkey, no surprises—

"Surprise, bitch!" You pick up the call from your bestfriend, slightly bringing the phone away from your ear when you hear her scream on the other end. "Happy birthday to the love of my life and the only person I can stand! Did you open your mail yet? What are you up to today? Who is getting some of that tonight—"

"Hold on just a minute, Rissa." You nervously chuckle. "Thank you, and I love you, but one question at a time, please?" You tuck the phone against your ear with your shoulder as you put your dishes away.

"I'm sorry." She giggles. "You know I love you. I'm just sad I can't be there with you since they have me on this work trip for the month."

"It's okay." You crack a tiny smile. "How is it?"

"It's fine, same old." She sighs. "But this isn't about me, birthday girl. What are your plans?"

"You already know me." You laugh. "Keep it lowkey. Order some good, comforting takeout and pair it with red wine." You plop on the couch and put her on speaker so you can start your next 15 or so minutes just looking for food that you'll end up doordashing over.

"Mkay, really?"

"I don't know why you're so surprised."

"Guess you didn't open your mail."

"The hell is that supposed to mean?" You look towards your entrance way at the stack of envelopes.

"Can you just go and open your mail? I made sure that would get sent with priority." She laughs as you chuckle and shake your head, meandering over to the envelopes you wanted to ignore for the evening at the very least. Well, for the most part, the majority of the envelopes get flipped through and tossed to the back, especially if you already knew none of them necessarily had an urgent deadline.

Alas, you come to Rissa's envelope. Soft pink in color with 'Y/N Y/L/N' in big, bold, black Sharpie on the front— a little drawn heart attached to the end of it.

You take your finger and gently rip the envelope open, revealing a card with a piece of paper in it. You read the sweet message written by your bestfriend before pulling out the paper to read what it consists of:

One free 60 min. massage at Blissful Hands - Applies to all massage types. Redeem Now!

No expiration date.

"A free massage?" You think out loud and Rissa laughs.

"Girl, you need to relax, okay? You're always working so damn hard, you never give yourself a break. I know I had mentioned the parlor before, but I just haven't had the time to take you. I want you to go and treat yourself as my birthday present." She pauses briefly before going on again. "And don't give me that 'with what time' bullshit cause I'm gonna be on your ass until you step foot in that establishment. Trust me. I'll be annoying, you don't want that." You laugh.

"Thank you, Rissa. I love it, seriously. Maybe I could use a day to just do this and nothing else." You flip the coupon in your hand.

"Maybe, yeah." She says sarcastically. "If you aren't gonna use that unlimited PTO benefit, then let me at it."

"You're right." You shake your head. "Fine, I'll go."

"Like, tomorrow."

"No, not tomorrow."

"Before next week, though."

"Yes, damn." You laugh a little louder. "Jeez, you weren't kidding when you said you'd be on my ass."

"No, I wasn't. Besides, I spent the money so that you could have this day be all about self-care."

"Thank you." You repeat. "I love you. And I miss you dearly."

"I miss you, too. I'll be home soon and I'll make sure my first stop is your place."

"Sounds like a plan." You say softly, genuinely missing the company of your bestfriend. "I just hope you're enjoying yourself down there in between work."

"Oh girl, you know I am. Don't you even worry." She chuckles. "Seriously though, take that coupon into the parlor this week, you hear me?"

"I will."

"Mmkay. I'll let you get back to your lowkey birthday celebration. Love you to bits and pieces." She says in a sing-song tone. "By the way, there's more gifts coming your way, they're just delayed."

"What!?"

"Byeeeee!" She laughs and abruptly ends the call. You look at the phone in disbelief before slowly setting it down onto your coffee table. You pick up the coupon and look at it again, suddenly getting the urge to look through your work calendar to see which day you could call off.

No meetings, no agenda, nothing.

Just you, yourself and this massage parlor.

"Why not?" You mutter to yourself as you place the coupon back down and start looking through the rest of the week on your calendar.

You actually don't get the chance to go until closer to the end of the week— a Thursday that most people decide that they want to cancel group meetings or work remotely to focus on other urgent projects. You don't complain though, hell, you quickly put in your time off and don't look back.

That Thursday comes just as quickly as you submitted the time off request, the sun beaming straight into your room and warming your sheets through the sheer blinds. You stretch a bit, arms poking out from underneath the covers as you yawn and try to completely wake yourself up. You figured starting your day at the massage parlor could be good, maybe it'll just get you started on the right foot, maybe it'll get you to do other spontaneous, productive things that you should've done on your actual birthday. Who knows? You were just excited to have the day to yourself with no other obligations and people, emails, deadlines— whatever fucking else comes with corporate— to worry about. You get yourself washed up and ready for the day, throwing on a simple, all black biker shorts and sports bra set. You grab a hoodie in case the day is actually colder than expected, throw on some socks, tie up your sneakers and head out the door.

The establishment isn't too far, and it's nice that it's pretty convenient. You and Rissa both had incredibly busy schedules, it was almost impossible to think about a massage during a normal week at work. If it wasn't for your birthday and for her gift, you aren't entirely sure you'd ever step foot here to take advantage of their services [knowing damn well you could use it, too]. The added bonus now is the convenience and how close it is to other establishments you frequent.

Maybe you might be back after a taste.

When you walk in, it's peaceful, serene, as you expected; soft music played in the background. A lady stood near the front desk, walking the receptionist through something— you weren't entirely sure. They finally turned their attention towards you, the lady standing coming towards you with a smile on her face.

"Hey, welcome in to Blissful Hands!" She smiles. "I'm Yannie."

"Y/N." You give her a small, toothless smile as you tug on the strap of your bag. "I, um—" You flash her the coupon after pulling it out from your jacket pocket. "I have this coupon I wanted to redeem."

"Oh, fantastic! You came at a perfect time, we have lots of availability right now." She grabs some paperwork from behind the desk and walks back over to you as you sit on the clean sofa. "I'll go through these in a bit. But, I wanted to ask. Did you already have a particular type of massage in mind? If not, I can grab a pamphlet and we can go through any questions you might have in regards to our services."

"Hm. Do you guys offer hot stone massages?" Is the first that pops into your mind. It had always been something you wanted to try, especially seeing the ads and the promos at the hotels during work trips and conferences. Plus, you've heard about its benefits through word of mouth. If they were able to offer that here, why not get yourself a free hot stone massage? It might turn out to be exactly what you need.

"We sure do." She chuckles and sits next to you. "Why hot stone, if I may ask?"

"Well, besides the usual response of lowering stress, I just feel like my body is pretty.. tense? Lots of muscle tension, soreness, fatigue. I run a lot, try to get some boxing and pole dancing in. No matter how many times I go, I still feel like it's my first time." You chuckle nervously, afraid you've spilled way too much information than necessary. She didn't even ask. "Sorry, just felt like I needed to add that in there for some reason."

"No, that helps a lot. Thank you." She laughs. "I think that would be a great option for you. Our masseur is one of the most top-rated in the city." You nod, impressed. Were they now? "Here." She hands you a pen. "I just need you to fill out these medical intake forms—" She pushes the form closer to you. "And then sign these liability forms." She follows up with the last forms.

"Sounds good."

"Once you're done, I'll take you to a room to get situated before your masseur comes in." You nod once more, giving her eye contact before continuing your task of filling out the paperwork appropriately. Yannie heads back to support the front desk momentarily until she sees you walking towards her with the completed paperwork. She thanks you, takes the papers and hands it over to the front desk before nodding towards the back. "Follow me, I'll bring you to a room." You quietly follow behind, the back area of the establishment being much bigger than you expected. You pass two rather handsome and attractive males on the way to your room, both of them giving you a bright, white smile before continuing on their way. You make a mental note that maybe, this wouldn't be so bad after all.

A massage and eye candy? Shit, count me the fuck in.

You passed a line of rooms before Yannie turns towards an empty one near the end of the hallway. She lets out a breath for a moment before stepping aside to let you in, showing you to the side of the room where you could place your things.

"Hm, let me go grab your masseur so that you can be on your way, alright? You can place your things here if you'd like, but once he comes in, he'll have you undress down to your underwear and into a robe before getting you on the table." She gives you a smile before walking out and shutting your door. As you stand around awkwardly, you hear her outside asking for your particular masseur, which isn't the problem, but it's the name that catches you off guard—

"Where's Yoongi?" You hear her ask. Yoongi, as in Min Yoongi? You hoped that there was another Yoongi on this planet just to save you from making this session 10x more awkward and weird, but something inside you told you that no, he was the only Yoongi you knew of and that's exactly who this was.

Fuck.

"You have a client, she's in there already." You hear her down the hall, followed by a low 'alright.' Suddenly, the door swings open again and it's Yannie along with the Min Yoongi himself. You're caught off guard that you don't even speak. You simply look at him, eyes full of curiosity, full of question, as he with you. But, he's quick to furrow his brows before slowly walking inside, Yannie catching onto the sudden tension in the air.

"Um, this is Yoongi, your masseur." She clears her throat.

"Sure is." You say, still keeping your eyes on him.

"Have you two met before?"

"Yup." Yoongi says before turning to her with a small smile. "I got it from here boss, thanks." Yannie gives you one last smile before shutting the door and walking down the hallway to continue her previous tasks.

"Well, if you look who it is—" You say sarcastically, placing your things down onto the side. "I didn't know you worked here." You're saying things in a certain tone to make sure Yoongi doesn't see how much you're actually dreading this right now. Because you are, god, you fucking are, and you almost wish you didn't step foot into this establishment and ask for a hot stone massage.

Could've been anything else. You should have done your research before.

"Hm, there's alot of things you don't know about me anymore, Y/N." He says coldly. "Didn't think I'd ever see you here." He starts to look at the papers and gather his things together, his back turned against you.

"Yeah, well. Rissa gave me a birthday coupon." He nods silently. "H-how've you been?" You ask him, awkwardly rubbing at your arm.

"Good as can be." He says flatly before turning to look at you, no emotion to match his blank expression. You look at the way he's changed— his orange, long hair that suited him well, body built perfectly, jaw line shaped with perfection. You're pulled out of your thoughts when he turns once more, pointing towards the back of the room. "Gonna need you to undress and get into the robe. This time, might wanna keep your panties on." He gives you a look, and you aren't sure whether or not he's throwing shade at you for whatever problems you had caused him— you weren't sure. Maybe that's where you went wrong because at one point, you and Yoongi had been close. You and Yoongi had shared everything, you and Yoongi had been everything to each other. He was one of your closest friends, maybe at some points a little too close than friends normally would be, but that was your relationship with him and you both had been on the same page about it. He was always good to you, always taking care of you, always knowing what was best for you over him—

Then, it just.. stopped.

And you clearly never understood where you went wrong. At least, to your knowledge, it wasn't clear where you went wrong.

"Mmkay." Is all you say, heading behind the divider towards the back end of his room to change into the fresh, clean robe hanging on the other side of it. You slip out of your clothes, leaving your panties on as Yoongi ever so respectfully requested, and get the robe on. You tighten the strap, feeling shy around him even though Yoongi has definitely you full blown naked before.

He's touched you.

He's kissed you.

He's handled you.

It's been years, though.

"Get on the table face down, please. I'll start off with your back." He turns to you, meeting your eyes but nothing more. He's always been this way, he's always been hard to crack. You were just lucky you were able to at some point.

You do as you're told, slipping the robe off of you and tossing it aside when Yoongi turns around to give you some privacy. You lay face down onto the table, suddenly feeling Yoongi place a clean linen cloth to cover your sacrum and below. He looks at you for a minute because even though it's been awhile, he remembers everything about you, your body. He remembers the tiny mole right below your left shoulder blade, remembers the scar on your knee. He remembers where your spots used to be, where you liked to be touched, kissed.

He lets out a small huff before shaking his head at the thoughts that start to occupy his mind. There's soft music playing in the background to help ease the energy in the room, to help relax you and soothe you. And it does. Everything feels peaceful for a moment that you almost forget you're about to get a massage by Yoongi himself until—

"You ready? I'm gonna start with your back. Let me know if the stones get too hot for you." He says, dimming the lights just a bit, lighting some candles and incense.

"Mhm." You mumble. You hear Yoongi digging the stones out of the water bath, placing them gently on a towel in front of him before grabbing the oil and lathering his hands.

"I'm gonna start, alright? Gonna oil you up first." He says, his large, strong hands manually giving your back a good massage with the oil to introduce his touch, get your tissues warmed up. You immediately feel relaxed under his touch, all tension seemingly disappearing into thin air. He feels you ease up underneath him, hands with the magic touch you could almost call him Midas.

/ FLASHBACK

"Fuck." You giggle into Rissa's shoulder, red cup empty after the second, third, sixth [who fucking knows at this point] drink of the night.

"So drunk." She giggles along with you, sipping on water.

"God, I'm getting over this party though." You turn to look at your surroundings. "Look, literally no one is dancing anymore. Everyone is just standing around talking or—" You snort when you see one of your friends slumped on the couch. "Slumped."

"It's almost that time of the night, miss. We're crossing into 1AM."

"Ugh, I need to take my drunk ass home."

"No, you need Yoongi to take your drunk ass home." She lifts your chin to get you to look at her but you pout.

"You're not going home, huh?" You ask her, already knowing she was going to spend the night at her boyfriend's apartment.

"Mm, you know this." She laughs. "Your girl needs dick. Bad."

"Whatever."

"Saying it like you don't have the same fucking thought. Shame." She gives you a look.

"Where is heeeeee?" You elongate the 'he,' lip forming into another pout as you drunkily close your eyes.

"Your man's over there." She nods towards the living room, Yoongi standing along the wall with a few of his friends.

"He's not my man."

"Mm." She looks at you up and down. "Go over there before I have more shit to say." You laugh and start making your way over to Yoongi, immediately wrapping your hand around his wrist, chin resting against his bicep.

"You okay?" Yoongi chuckles at how adorable you look.

"Drunk. Just.. drunk."

"I see that." He moves his arm to drape it over your shoulders and pull you close. "Wanna get out of here?"

"Fuck, yeah. Please."

"Where to?"

"Home." You look at him and he nods. The both of you bid your farewell's to his friends before tossing your empty cups and heading out. Yoongi had one drink earlier in the night, but he had been sipping on soda onwards throughout the evening simply because he knew you needed him to take you home. In fact, he would rather let you have the time of your life and watch you have your fun instead of him. He loved seeing that side of you, loved seeing you full of life, full of fun.

It's what attracted him to you the most.

"You okay, princess?"

"Yeah, just wanna get the fuck out of these shoes." He laughs.

"Okay, almost there." He says, kissing your temple. When you finally head down the street to the car, Yoongi gets you situated in the seat before heading to the driver's side and getting himself situated. "You're not gonna yack, are you?" He laughs when he starts driving off towards your apartment.

"No, I'm fine. God." You roll your eyes and lean your head back against the head rest.

"I'm just playing, baby." He says, large hand roaming to your thigh and giving it a good squeeze. You let out a small whimper at his touch, Yoongi smirking to himself when he knows exactly what that means. "Gonna get you some water and make sure you sleep this shit off, I don't wanna hear you complain tomorrow."

"When do I ever complain?"

"All the fucking time, dude." He laughs. "Damn. You're lucky I like you." He quickly caresses your chin. The rest of the ride is quiet, nothing but the soft music playing in the background in his car, the sounds of cars passing by along with the train running through the tracks nearby your apartment building. He parks in a guest spot that's quite far, offering to carry you up to your apartment if you feel too tired. You let him know you're alright though, lacing your fingers with his as you make your way to your door. He grabs your keys, unlocks the door and watches as you stumble in and hurriedly get out of your shoes— tossing them off to the side messily.

"Thank God, ugh." You groan, falling face down onto your comfortable, comfortable bed. You hear Yoong in your kitchen, grabbing you a glass of water and going through your medicine cabinet before walking in to your room and shutting the door behind him.

"Here. Drink some water, please."

"And if I don't?" You tease, still face down against your pillow.

"I'll leave."

"That was unfair." You say, slowly sitting up to drink some of the water. His hand caresses your back as you drink, watching to make sure you get a good amount of water in you before you set the glass back down. Once you do, you immediately get to removing your clothes, tossing them aside and crawling under your sheets in just your bra and panties.

"You wanna sleep? You don't wanna stay up for a bit?" He says, grabbing the pair of basketball shorts he left behind in your closet so he can change into something comfier.

"And do what?"

"You're gonna have a headache in the morning, Y/N."

"It's fine, I'll deal with it when the morning comes." You whine. "Can you just come here and cuddle me like you typically do?" He chuckles.

"Yeah, yeah." He says, finally crawling in and throwing his arm around your waist even as you awkwardly lay on your stomach with a leg bent upwards. He begins to quietly massage your sides and down your back, fingers gently running a line down your spine. He listens to you let out a breath, body easing up under his touch like it always does. "Feels good?" He says nearing a whisper, close to your ear.

"Mhm." You let out breathily, eyes shut to feel more of his touch. You feel him unclasp your bra to work his hands deeper into your shoulders and either side of your spine. Yoongi always knew how to work his way with you, work his magic on you— so much that even this simple massage has you wanting more out of him. It's like that though. Your relationship with Yoongi was just like that. You turn to face him and his hand continues to linger on your side, giving it a squeeze when he looks down at your face, nose, down to your lips.

"Need a massage here, too?" He smirks, playing with the strap of your bra.

"You're an idiot." You giggle as he pulls you closer and completely gets rid of your bra while planting small, soft kisses along the surface of your neck. "Wasn't really planning on this, you know?"

"That's funny cause that's always the story, yet what do we always end up doing?" Your eyes flutter at the feeling of his lips against your skin. Your hands roam up to grip his hair just as he makes his way up to your jaw, cheek, kissing the tip of your nose before locking his lips with yours. You moan into the kiss as it deepens, your tongue instantly slipping into his. The only sounds that can be heard within your room are the cars passing by outside, mixed with the noises of wet kisses being exchanged.

You work your way to toss Yoongi's shirt aside, just as he works his way to hook his finger onto your panties and slip it off. You tease at his clothed, hardened cock by palming him through his shorts and he responds by feeling how wet your pussy is. You let out a small gasp when you feel his hand start rubbing at your pussy, spreading your wetness across your pussy lips.

"Just fuck me, Yoongi." You moan, already taking his cock from beneath his shorts before he can fully shred the piece of clothing.

"Yeah, I'm gonna take care of you, baby." He says, wasting no time to climb ontop of you, taking his cock and sliding it up and down your slit a few times to tease you.

"Please." You whine. "Need to feel you." He smirks and bites onto his bottom lip just as he takes his tip and breaches your entrance.

"God, you already feel so fucking good." He lets out. "So wet for me." He watches his cock sink into you, deeper and deeper, until he bottoms out completely.

"Ohhhhhmygod—" You arch your back slightly at the feeling of being full. Yoongi works at a slow pace at first, trying to get the right rhythm going as he cocks your legs wide open with his hands.

"Princess. Look at you. Creaming the fuck out of my cock." He says, looking down as he teasingly slips in and out of you. He begins to pick up his pace, rolling his hips into you as a hand grips onto your headboard to keep him steady, the other hand kept tightly on your hip. He starts to pound into you relentlessly, loving how delicious your walls feel wrapped around him tightly.

It always, always, always, keeps him wanting more of you.

"Yes, yes, yes— just like that—hmmmfuck!" You moan a bunch of jibberish together, nails digging crescents onto his arm. "Feels so fucking good." You continue to whine, whimper, begging him to keep going for you. He lowers his body so that he could run his hands up your hair, whispering praises in your ear as he strokes in and out at a steady speed.

Making you feel him, all of him, completely.

He always tells you how beautiful you are to him, how you're his baby, how there's no one who could make him feel the way you do.

How no one could ever come close to you.

And that's the one thing that always has you hurdling over the edge, reaching your orgasm much faster than expected. Because not only does he fuck you so, so good— but he praises you, knows just the right fucking words to say, knows just how to touch you in the right places.

You let out a loud moan, yelling his name as your eyes roll to the back of your head when your orgasm takes full control. His hand slides down to grip your neck, fucking you senselessly as he tries to reach his own high watching you cum all over his dick. And he does. It takes a few more thrusts, but before you know it, his lips are grazing yours, both of you letting out silent moans when he releases inside of you, painting your walls full of white ribbons.

He comes down from his high as he softens inside of you, lips pecking feathery kisses on yours before he finally pulls out and rolls over next to you. He grabs a napkin from your nightstand and gently wipes you clean before taking care of himself and throwing his arm back around you.

"You okay?" He brushes the hair out of your face before you roll onto your side.

"Definitely more sober now." You say, making him chuckle as he holds you close and kisses your shoulder.

"Good. At least I helped prevent the morning headache."

"Shut up." You chuckle.

"Anything for you." He continues to joke.

/ END FLASHBACK

After Yoongi gives your back a good introductory massage, he then turns to get the stones and holds them tightly in his palms. You feel the back of his hands work their way down on either side of your spine, all the way down to your sacrum, before coming back up. He repeats this process a few times before flipping his palms over and rolling the stones down the same path. He adds the right pressure against the surface of your skin, the heat just enough to penetrate and hit deeper into your tissue.

Yoongi doesn't even know how to feel right now with you being underneath him for a completely different reason today. And it's been years— years since you've last spoken, last talked.

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't hurt all over again when he saw you.

You still looked beautiful as ever, still rocking that fine ass body with curves in all the right places. Yeah, he definitely wasn't hurt when you two ended up the way you did. He wish it never ended up that way. He wanted much, much more with you. You just never seemed to feel the same. But he couldn't dwell on it. Figured he'd just accept it and move on, even if that meant without you by his side. That was probably the hardest part all along. To be with you almost 24/7, to suddenly being without you at all. He had to do it though, for his own sake.

Yeah, he'd defnitely be lying if he said he wasn't hurt all over again when he saw you.

"Feels alright?" He dips lowly near your ear as he holds stones sideways and digs them deep into your shoulders, down your back, sacrum; always avoiding the spine directly.

"Mmm." Is all he hears. He continues to work all through your back and up to your neck before placing the stones down to rest along your spine. He places two tiny stones amongst your shoulders, guiding you to move your hand backwards one at a time, just so he can give you a good, deep, proper massage in between the scapula. Afterwards, he grabs new stones and moves down to your left leg. He uncovers it, gently massaging up and down your thigh, calf, in a circular motion with the stones, using them as an extension of his hands. He does this for awhile until he feels like he's done enough, the heat slowly moving away from the stones in his palms. So, he sticks a stone on the back of your knee where the bend is, and takes the other stone down to your foot for a soft massage— flipping the stone as needed to distribute the heat along your foot properly. Once he's finished with his final touches, he places the stone in the middle of your foot, covers the entire leg with the linen cloth and repeats the same process on your right leg.

You're sinking in and out of sleep while Yoongi massages you, all of a sudden forgetting the heated, awkward tension in the air as he continues to work his magic throughout your body. For a moment, you don't regret stepping foot into the establishment. For a moment, you don't ponder on your worries and why things feel so fucking tense between you and Yoongi. Then it hits you when he clears his throat in the background that yeah, your relationship, friendship— whatever the hell you wanted to call it— was cut off so abruptly. Seeing him made you really miss having him around. Because besides Rissa, he was someone you were able to lean on, have fun with, be yourself around.

There was no pressure with Yoongi before.

Now, there's a ton.

Pressure to, what? Fix things? Talk about things? Figure out where it went so, so wrong that he had upped and left, cutting off all ties with you without reason? You don't even know where or how to start.

"Y/N." He repeats.

"Hm?"

"I said I need you to flip over so I can work on the front of your body." You're nervous. God, you're nervous. It's like you were trying to impress him all over again, the same Min Yoongi that you had the fattest fucking crush on. The same Min Yoongi that you could do all that shit with, but could never admit that you had feelings for.

You hold onto the linen cloth as you carefully turn yourself over on the table, Yoongi once again giving you the privacy you need by turning his back. When he feels like he's given you enough time, he turns to see you pulling the linen cloth over your chest. He walks over, taking his biggest stone into another towel and wrapping it tightly before placing it down on your abdomen.

"That feel okay? Gonna leave this here while I work through your arms and legs."

"Yeah, that feels nice."

"Cool." He says, pressing it down ever so slightly just so you could feel the heat against your abdomen. He starts with your left leg, following the same rhythm he had when he massaged the back of your leg earlier. He takes the stones around your thigh, down to your calf, and works it in small circular motions before repeating the same up and down motion he had done before. He then takes the stone, places it underneath the bend of your knee and take the other to your foot. He gently grips your foot, working the stone in small motions against the surface before his touch disappears and he moves onto the next leg.

His touch.

You remember feeling cold without his touch.

After massaging your leg, he takes a moment to grab another warm towel and places it over your breasts before sliding the linen cloth down below your abdomen.

"Gonna give you a quick abdomen massage. The towel feel okay?" You let out a small 'mhm' before you hear him take a stone from behind you. He slowly introduces his touch against your abdomen, watching your body react to his touch.

His touch.

You remember how you used to react to his touch.

His touch is soft, gentle, when he presses into your abdomen, applying the right pressure as he goes on just as he realizes you're comfortable again. He takes a stone and proceeds with double-handed kneading that followed the pattern along your colon.

He makes his way up to work with your left arm, hooking the stone into the palm of his hand while he uses the other for support— gently running it up your arm and over your shoulder, back down towards your wrist. He switches to another stone and turns your hand over; starting from your palm and working his way up to your axillary node, then back down. Afterwards, he takes both stones in his hands, running it back all the way up before gently kneading as he comes back down. He leaves a stone under your hand before taking two long stones to do some manipulation around your shoulders. Once he feels like he has finished your left arm, he repeats the process on your right.

"That felt nice." Yoongi smirks at your sudden comment.

"That's the goal." He says, fixing the linen cloth over your body, tucking it in neatly so that your upper chest is properly exposed to him. "We're almost done here. I'll work on your upper chest and do a facial massage, okay? Then you'll be out of here."

"What if I don't wanna be out of here? It's too relaxing." You mumble.

"Unfortunately, it doesn't work that way." He chuckles. "Relax." He closes off the quick conversation by soothing your upper chest, working his hands around, up the shoulders and neck just to warm up the tissue. He repeats the process but this time, takes his two long stones and works them in, running it across your chest and in circular motions around the shoulders. He places them right beneath your collarbones so you can continue feeling the heat penetrate your tissues before taking two smaller stones to your face. He works the stones in an outward motion on your cheek, your forehead, in between your eyes— before working in an upward motion along the same path. Then, he grabs two stones a size up, working it behind the neck, ear and into the hairline in smaller motions. He sets the stones aside, now finishing off the massage by working his fingers deep into your scalp, down to your temples, keeping his hands over your ears for a brief moment to let the heat and energy transfer over. "How do you feel?" He says lowly near your ear, the vibrations in his tone somehow still able to send a tingle down your spine after all these years.

"Really good."

"Yeah? That's good." He says, hands gently gliding down your neck, back to the surface of your chest before he removes the stones. "Hope that was a nice session for you."

"Way more than that. Thank you." He smiles to himself before turning towards the counter, placing the rest of his supplies back on the surface to remind himself to do some good cleaning and disinfecting before his next client.

"Take your time when you get up and get ready, alright? Don't get up too fast." You open your eyes, still feeling calm, relaxed, as your body feels every inch of the table.

"Can't I just stay?" You joke.

"No can do." Yoongi chuckles a bit.

"Hey." You call for him. "This might sound a little crazy to ask but, do you think we can catch up? It's been a long time, and quite frankly, I wasn't really expecting to run into you here." He turns over his shoulder before shaking his head.

"I don't know. I don't really think there's much for us to catch up on."

"You said it yourself, there's alot of things I don't know about you anymore. We used to be close—"

"Used to be." He says quite harshly when he cuts you off. "And yeah, just cause I said that, doesn't mean it's shit you need to know." He sighs, pushing his things aside before looking at you. "Sorry, I didn't mean for it to come out that way, but you're right. It's been years, and to be honest, part of me just wants to leave it in the past like it should be kept in the past. I don't really know if there's much for us to talk about."

"Please don't be like that. I'm trying to figure out where things went wrong. It's always bothered me that we ended up this way." He shrugs.

"You ever think that maybe this is just how things were meant to be?" He says, giving you one last look, his tongue licking his bottom lip. "It was really nice to see you though, Y/N. Hope you had a good time." He says before grabbing the door knob and twisting it, not really expecting you to be back for another session after all of this. "Again, no rush. My next client isn't until an hour from now." With that, he walks out and shuts the door, leaving you to your own peace.

You were relaxed. Felt blissful, felt at ease.

But now, you aren't so sure. You aren't sure if you wanna break down and cry, if you wanna run after him and beg for him to just talk to you.

You just aren't sure.

So you get up and walk over to the back, throwing on your clothes before lazily tossing the robe into the hamper placed near the divider. You let out a breath before grabbing the knob and twisting it, revealing an empty hallway with a few closed doors in front of you. No Yoongi in sight though, and you can't help but feel a bit heavy walking out of the session as if you didn't just receive a hot stone massage from him.

"Hey! How was it?" Yannie asks, reading your expression as you walk out and tug on your unzipped hoodie. You give her a small, toothless smile and nod, hoping to be on your way quickly.

"It was great!" You simply say with a nod. "Definitely will be back." You lie, mainly because you aren't really sure where this leaves you with Yoongi even if you wanted to be back for one. Shit, that massage was everything you needed and more.

"Good to hear, we'll see you again soon then." She smiles before waving you off.

Fuck.

As for the rest of the day, you do take the time to walk around town, run into a few stores to window shop and eat at the nearby mom and pop Vietnamese restaurant for a good ol' bowl of pho. Mainly out of enjoyment for your day off, moreso because your thoughts were starting to plague your mind and you needed a distraction.

If anything, today taught you that you really needed to take more time out of your busy schedule to slip in some self-care. So, that's what you do to end your night just as well as you started it [you like to think]. You run some hot water and bubbles, pour a glass of red, red wine and light up some incense, candles.

"Wait—" Rissa says while you have her on speaker, phone sitting on the toilet cover. "Yoongi was your masseur?!”

"Yuuuup." You say, sipping on your red wine.

"Oh, this is some shit." She laughs. "Wish I could get my ass on that first flight home so I could see how you look right now."

"Don't even try it."

"Well, tell me the massage was at least worth it."

"It was, very much so." She chuckles.

"But?"

"But, what?"

"There's a 'but' in that sentence. Now, spill."

"It's just weird. We fell off so abruptly, there was no closure. I just wish we could talk about things, I'm not entirely sure where things went wrong between us and it kinda sucks now that I've seen him again."

"I know Yoongi has always meant a lot to you, Y/N. But you could never admit it to him, yourself, even. Don't you think that has a lot to do with this?"

"W-what? That's not true."

"See, there you go again." You sigh.

"I don't know. Maybe."

"Think about it. Not saying that's it, there could be other reasons and the only person who would really know is Yoongi since we know what your side is like, but we don't know his."

"I don't know what to do. Should I go back?"

"What, for a massage or for Yoongi?" She laughs. "Or both, I guess."

"Both." You slip a bit further down into the water. "He was pretty direct today. I don't think he wants to talk about it, but part of me can't really let that go."

"You've always been stubborn like that. But, it's good, you know? You always go for what you want without giving up. I say go for it. If he really, really doesn't wanna see you and talk about things after this, then don't force it. Maybe he's right. It sucks to say, but maybe that's really how you two were supposed to end up." You sigh.

"Yeah, yeah." You respond simply, shutting your eyes as you let the hot water seep in and continue to relax your muscles. It was hard to say. Yoongi did mean a lot to you. He was someone you always had fun with, someone you could trust, someone who took care of you even when you didn't ask.

Of course, he meant a lot to you.

Of course, you wouldn't let that go after seeing him again.

But of course, Yoongi's detached and you're having to break through his walls yet again— most likely due to something you did that you weren't even aware of.

"You're back!" Yannie exclaims when she sees you walk through the door shyly.

"I am. I probably should have called beforehand, but I wasn't sure if I was going to make it in time before the last slot." You rub your hands together. "Is Yoongi here?"

"He sure is, and you just got lucky. His last spot cancelled not too long ago." Yannie shrugs.

"Sweet."

"He's with someone right now, but the session will be over—" She glances at the time. "Pretty soon, actually. Take a seat and get comfortable for now, alright?" She smiles, handing you one form to sign. You silently take the form with you, reading through the liability language again as you take your pen and get ready to sign at the line on the bottom half of the page. Sooner or later, you hear some giggling and a female voice echoing in the back hallway, a pretty, young lady coming through with Yoongi following behind her.

His smile drops almost instantly when he sees you sitting there. But it's not cause he's mad or anything, no. He could never be that mad at you after everything, could never hold a big grudge against you. He's just surprised that you're back, and he's also [surprisingly] relieved to see you're back.

Your eyes, and that smile.

The way you always used to hold onto him and hold his hand, looking up at him with those puppy dog eyes.

Your laugh.

He could never be that mad at you.

"Hey, I know your last client cancelled, but Y/N is here hoping to grab that slot." Yoongi nods.

"Yeah, it's no problem." He looks at the young lady in front of him as she bats her lashes and sways her hips while walking towards the door.

"See you next session, Yoonks?" She calls him a weird nickname that falls off her tongue so poorly. God.

"Of course." He smiles shyly, hand coming to the nape of his neck as he watches her walk out. He finally turns his attention towards you and clears his throat when he realizes you had been watching the interaction the entire time. "I um, just need to clean up in there a bit then I'll be ready for you. Give me a couple of minutes."

"Okay." Is all you say before finally scribbling your fucking signature on that line. Oh, Yoonks. Hope she isn't the one you're slipping in bed with. Your heart would be crushed to know he already had someone, even though you knew it was a high possibility after all this time. You couldn't be selfish with him forever.

Sooner or later, you're pulled out of your thoughts when Yoongi peeks his head out into the waiting area and taps the door frame. He purses his lips together when he looks at you and nods.

"Ready?"

"Mmyeah." You get up to follow him.

"Enjoy!" Yannie exclaims when she sees you follow him to the back. You quietly continue on, setting your things aside like you had done before when you step into the room and Yoongi shuts the door behind him.

"Was that your girlfriend, or something?" You tease.

"No. Repeat client." He looks at you before turning. "Somehow, I know you aren't really here for the massage." He fiddles with his things on the counter.

"I mean, I am. I could really use one."

"But you wanna try and talk, don't you?" You silently excuse yourself behind the divider to change and slip the robe on.

"Maybe. I won't push it." You say, tying the robe close before taking a seat on the edge of the table.

"Mm, but you always push it." He softly chuckles. "There's no stopping Y/N when she's determined to get what she wants." He turns to look at you, white tee hugging his body so nicely— you can't help but ogle a bit when he steps in front of you.

"No, not anymore necessarily." You try and cover your shit up even though both him and Rissa are right. You know this.

"Right." He lets out a little laugh. "You wanna lie down so we can get this started?" He walks over to the cabinets, grabbing a fresh, clean pair of linens in his hands. When he turns, he catches you removing your robe and covering your breasts when you're about to lie down. He quickly turns because quite frankly, he shouldn't even be in here for this— but, it's you.

You know this, too.

"I'm ready." You tell him, placing your face into the cushion comfortably.

"Cool." He says, draping your lower body with the linen in his hand, tucking it gently into your sides to make you feel even more comfortable. He makes his way to the front, preparing to manually massage you before adding the stones just so he can introduce his touch again. "Gonna start, alright? Relax, breathe in and out. I'll massage you without the stones first to get your tissues warmed up."

"Okay." You pause before calling for him again. "Yoongi?" You let out a little weirdly with the pressure he's adding onto your back.

"Hm?"

"What really happened between us?" He chuckles.

"And here you were, trying to tell me you weren't gonna push the agenda. Do you have to do this now? Mid-hot stone massage?" You head the clacking of the stones against each other before he starts working it into your back. He's right, it honestly feels too good for you to speak properly, but you felt like this was the only way— the only option, so to speak. His number had changed, he wasn't necessarily on social media. Didn't live at home with his parents anymore.

How else could you contact him besides seeing him for a massage?

"What other choice do I have?"

"I already told you there isn't much to talk about."

"Yeah, so why are we so awkward with each other?"

"It's been years."

"Why has it been years, Yoongi?" He sighs, head falling before he continues to work your back.

"It's your massage, don't blame me if you don't feel completely rested afterwards." He caves, gives in, knowing he can't ever say no to you. He can't ever be that mad, no.

You know that.

"I'm not gonna lie to you, Y/N. I was pretty upset with you when we spoke last. Do you even remember when that was?" He speaks up again.

"In college, yeah." You let out a small sigh when he deeply massages near the shoulder blades.

"So, you don't exactly remember?"

"Yoongi, I don't. Okay? I'm sorry." He should've expected it. He remembers that scene so clearly in his head, it almost aches him. He really did like you, Y/N. Min Yoongi was so much in like with you that he wanted to stop being friends with benefits, and he wanted more out of it. He was sure you two could take it there, no doubt. You fit each other well. So, so well—

Until you didn't.

/ FLASHBACK

"Sorry, I need to go find Y/N soon. She said she wanted to kick it." Yoongi tells his friend, Akio.

"What, for a quick fuck?" He laughs, making Yoongi shake his head.

"Shut the fuck up. She's not just a quick fuck. That girl means a lot to me, alright?" Yoongi catches the way Akio's face falls, moreso into confusion.

"Wait, you're not serious, right?"

"I'm pretty sure I am." Yoongi responds sarcastically, a little thrown off at the way he's taking the news right now. Was there something he wasn't aware about? Last time he checked, even if you two weren't serious, you both were exclusively just fucking around with each other and each other only.

Yoongi could be completely wrong at this point, though. But he hoped he wasn't. He really respected you and cared about you more than anyone he has ever crossed paths with, and the foundation of your friendship, that closeness you two had before anything, meant everything to him. He would never fuck that up. That's why he always checked in with you, always made sure that what you two were doing was still okay. He would never wanna disrespect you or make you feel uncomfortable. He never wanted to step out of line, or even hurt you in the slightest bit.

"Look, I just thought you two settled on the fact that you were friends with benefits, that's all."

"What do you know that I don't?"

"Nothing, man. That's it."

"Don't lie to my face, dude." Yoongi gives off a nervous chuckle. "What did she say to you?"

"She's been telling people that you two weren't serious and that she couldn't really see you two together like that.. or— that she couldn't see you like that." Ouch. Yoongi's fucking hurt, alright. And if that wasn't enough, Yoongi catches the way Akio looks past his shoulder, so he follows his gaze. He turns to see you flirting with the hot soccer boy on campus, Kane, who was also notorious for sleeping around and messing with other females at the same time.

Great.

Fucking great.

Because he knows you wouldn't turn that down— no, the fuck you wouldn't.

And he wishes he was wrong because the moment he sees you hold onto his arm and let him walk you up into the dormitory, his heart sinks. Shatters to pieces. Everything feels numb.

He thought you two were on the same page. Clearly, you weren't. He could never be that mad at you, though. Because he's always gonna have it for you, always gonna have that soft spot for you and hold you close, even if you were meant to stray away, even if you were meant to be kept at a distance.

He could never be that mad at you, no.

"I'm sorry my guy, I really thought you two had been on the same page. I didn't wanna be the first to break it to you like that. Maybe you should talk to her."

"No, it's good. You're right, it's really not that serious." He lies.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, it's whatever." Akio shrugs.

"Alright then, I'm just saying. It could be good for you two to talk. It seems like there's still a disconnect somewhere." Yoongi ignores his added statement and pats him on the back.

"Gotta go, catch you later." He thought you two were close enough, thought he could read every inch of you, be that person who knew you like the back of his hand. He thought he had the privilege of having that much access to you because god, never in a million years would he have guessed. It started off so innocently, started off as two friends going through college together, before it grew into something more.

He wished it could blossom into more.

But now, maybe he truly does have to keep you at a distance. Keep you away, treat you like your mind and heart had been somewhere else this entire time.

Fuck.

Later that evening, Yoongi runs into you after you finish up a review session in the library. It was the last thing he wanted to deal with tonight, but there was no turning back. You weren't even aware that he knew about the things you said, seeing you with Kane earlier today. You knew nothing.

"Hey." You giggle, swinging your arms around him, but he gently pries it off and continues to walk towards his dorm. "Wait, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. Just having an off day." He says, keeping his head hung low.

"What happened?"

"Classes, homework. Lots of stuff to do."

"Oh, okay. That's it?" You nervously chuckle. "You got it, champ. I know you'll get through it." You playfully punch at his bicep, but he doesn't respond. "Okay, well, I'm sorry it's been a bad day." You awkwardly rub at your arms, stopping in your tracks. "I'm gonna go hang out with Kane and his friends, alright? Let me know if you need me."

"Mhm." He says, brushing you off completely and walking into this dormitory building.

/ END FLASHBACK

"I was waiting for you to try and figure out what was wrong. I wanted you to come to me and fix things, like I always do when something is off between us—" He works his way to your left arm. "With you. But the one night I needed you to do the same, you couldn't. Then you proceeded to tell me you were gonna go off and hang out with Kane and his friends." He says, working the stones down your arm.

"I wish you could have just told me."

"Y/N. You knew something was wrong, but you just didn't try to fix it. You didn't really care in the moment. The only thing you cared about was yourself and benefitting for yourself." You aren't really sure how to respond because now that you think about the moment, he was right. You knew something was off, but you didn't care enough to try and fix it. Yoongi had always been there for you, had always put you before anyone and anything.

And the one time he expected you to pull your own weight, even as a good friend [all benefits and fuckbuddy shit aside], you couldn't do that for him.

"I'm sorry."

"I mean." He chuckles, covering your arm with the linen before moving down to your leg. "Doesn't really matter anymore, right?"

"Of course it does. I'm sorry it had to take this for me to realize but it really fucked me up that we just stopped talking. I was dumb." You mumble.

"You're not dumb, don't say things like that." He adds.

"I'm really sorry."

"Don't apologize anymore. It's fine. I shouldn't have made it such a big deal."

"It is a big deal." He sighs a bit. "Can I ask you something?"

"Mhm."

"Were you really hurt about the whole Kane thing?"

"Are you really asking me this?"

"Right." You subtly shake your head. "I take it back—"

"Of course I was hurt." He continues to reply anyway. "I thought we were on the same page. We were for awhile. My feelings for you grew, and I thought we'd eventually make our way into something bigger than just being friends with benefits. I cared a lot about you, I tried to do a lot of things to show you that you were something special to me. You always came first because I had never had someone make me feel comfortable in my own skin the way that you did. Then—" He gently massages your foot with the stone before moving onto your other leg, introducing is touch just like he did before. "When I found out you were messing with other people and telling other people you didn't really see me that way, it fucked me up."

"Yoongi." You turn your head to the side, hoping to get a glimpse of him somehow.

"Nah, it's okay. You wanted an explanation so I'm giving it to you. Really, there's no need to try and apologize for it now. It's all in the past and I kinda just wanna leave it that way." You're a tad bit hurt at the way he won't accept the apology, but part of you understood that it took way too long for you to realize that something you had done affected him in ways you could only imagine.

"I should've done better." Is all you can say. He doesn't respond to it, though. Just continues to massage you, make you feel good like he always has done. You feel a little awkward now, lowkey regretting the fact that you came here with the sole intention to get Yoongi to talk about what happened between you two. Although, it was definitely something you needed to hear. Where to go from here though? You had no idea how to navigate this. What if this was it? After seeing him, you didn't want it to be. You wanted to try and fix this, even with knowing that it was close to impossible to bring back what you two had before.

That's the only thought that continued to plague your mind at this moment; the only thought that repeated itself over and over again that you didn't even realize you were now having to face him as you switch onto your back to let Yoongi massage the front of your body.

"You can relax, you know?" He looks you in the eye, a little confused as to why you're just plainly staring at him as he starts the front body massage.

"I'm sorry." You repeat, close to a whisper. "I just wanna fix things between us. I know it's a little late, but better late than never right?"

"Mm, I'm always going to have a soft spot for you Y/N.. but in a way where I can just support you and care about you from a distance. I think we work better that way."

"Do we, though?"

"These past years kinda say so, don't you think?"

"But that's because I didn't know any better." He shrugs.

"It seemed to be fine." He simply states.

"Were you, though? I missed you, a lot. I just didn't know how else to reach out to you before, or where to even find you."

"Don't say things you don't mean." He lets out a tiny breath, pursing his lips together.

"I do mean that. I thought about us, you, a lot. I missed the way you cared for me and how you were always there for me. I missed how you always made me feel so special." You stop there, even though you can go on and on about how Yoongi made you feel back in the days. That lingering feeling of attachment, of needing his touch, his cuddles, the way he never let you down. Fuck, he was so good to you. You let him get away.

"Sounds like this is purely for your benefit."

"You can't say we didn't make each other happy."

"You did make me happy, I just wasn't the case for you."

"Of course you made me happy."

"Kinda hard to believe." He says flatly. "Look, I said what I needed to say. I think that's what you wanted, right? I've just come to the conclusion that we're better off the way that we ended up. You'll always mean something to me, no matter what. Don't get me wrong. But, I think we both just need to continue moving on and leaving that where it belongs." Suddenly the room feels hot and tense, especially when he's incredibly close to your ear, close to your face, your lips. His hands continue to travel down your body, working his touch like he's always been so good at doing.

You leave it at that, though. Respecting his wishes, not wanting to push any further to avoid more issues. Although it fucking kills you, and you wish you could just snap your fingers and you and Yoongi could return to your old ways like shit never happened.

You should've known better, you could have done better. You were too selfish to try at the moment, and now you're laying here wondering how things could have been if you just tried a little harder for him.

He's the one that got away.

Maybe he was right, maybe there really was no coming back from this. Maybe it was just better this way.

When the massage comes to a close, Yoongi softly lets you know that the session has concluded, but doesn't say much. He doesn't offer for you to come back like the first time you came here, doesn't really offer much in general. You quietly get up to change behind the divider, tossing the robe into the hamper while Yoongi tidies up his room for closure tonight. When he hears you come out from behind the divider, he simply gives you a look over his shoulder before returning his attention to his supplies beneath his hands.

"You feel alright?" He decides to ask anyway.

"I guess so." You dig your hands into your pockets. "Thank you."

"Of course." He finally turns to fully look at you, eyes locking onto yours as his tongue comes out to meet the corner of his mouth. You don't pull your gaze away for a bit, his look still giving you those same old butterflies you used to feel when he used to give you the same look back in the day. His eyes used to say a lot about how he felt about you without the need to actually say it out loud. He watches as you grab one of his business cards and scribble something on the back before handing it to him.

"Just know that I'm really sorry, and I really wish we could fix things. Or, I could fix things. I should have done better for you, especially when I knew I felt more for you than what I showed at the time." He sees that you had written your number on the back of one of his business cards, eyes locked on it as it sits in his hand. "In case you ever needed it." You give him one last look before giving him a tiny, toothless smile and excusing yourself out of his room.

Don't get it twisted, though. You do feel relieved he at least told you what was going through his head at the time, and what had happened between the two of you. But, the majority of you felt guilty, and you weren't sure how you'd fix this without forcing the connection, without forcing what wasn't meant to be.

Damn.

"Sorry, I just came out of my massage and got home." You place the phone against your ear as you step into your apartment.

"How was it?" Rissa asks with a small giggle.

"I don't even know, Rissa. I think I may have just fucked this up for good. I shouldn't have gone back."

"Don't say that. Tell me what happened." She says, hearing another sigh leave your lips as you place your bag and keys down.

"I'm so stupid, Rissa. I should have known he was hurt by the whole Kane thing. I should have told him the truth."

"Girl, not to be the 'I told you so' bitch, but I am gonna be that bitch and say I told you so." She says directly. "I knew you were caught up at the time cause Kane was giving you the attention, who wouldn't? But you going around saying the things you said about Yoongi and denying that entire thing was definitely going to backfire."

"God, I was so fucking selfish and dumb." You lay back against your couch and let your head rest back, now remembering the times you brushed Yoongi off without even realizing.

"We live and we learn, at least now you know." Rissa says.

"I apologized, though. I really did try to talk to him about it."

"I'm sure he appreciates it, love. What else did he say?"

"Nothing. He just thinks that maybe we really were meant to fall off and be this way. He was saying that after all these years, it just seems better. He just wants to keep it that way and keep it in the past."

"Maybe he just needs time to think. I'm sure it was hard on his part, especially having to unexpectedly face it again. You know Yoongi doesn't trust a lot of people, and you probably were the one person he could fully trust. I'm sure it hurt him a lot." She says softly.

"I don't know what to do now. I left him my number but fuck, I don't even think he'll use it. He probably trashed it the moment I left the room."

"Just give it time. Again, if it really is meant to be, then it'll happen in time. If not, then I hate to say it, but maybe he's right, hun."

"I hate to think of it that way. God. Why didn't I just realize it at the time?"

"We were young and dumb. It was college. We weren't worried about all this because we wanted to have fun."

"Doesn't make it an excuse." You sighed heavily. "I don't know. I really can't do anything to force it, so I'll just let it be like you like said." There's a small pause before Rissa speaks again.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"I will be." You shake your head, not wanting to think more about the situation for the rest of the night. "So, tell me all about what you did today, please? What fun did you get into?" She hears it in your voice, and as your bestfriend, she knows very well that you don't like to stress too much about things. So, she gives you what you want. Gives you the full details of her day so that the both of you can pick at the little things and go off on tangents.

Just so you no longer have to think about Yoongi for tonight.

But that's the opposite case for Yoongi, even if he didn't want it to be the case. Because the moment he gets home from work, all he can think about is you.

He hates that this is always the case with you, hates that he always has that soft spot for you no matter how direct or blunt he can get. Hates how you always have him in some kind of hold, hates how after all these years, you can still make him weak in one way or another.

But he'll never be that mad at you, no. He can never be that mad at you.

/ FLASHBACK

"Hey." Yoongi whispers, slipping into your dorm bed around 2AM. You were fast asleep, cuddled up in your blankets. But, you always left your door open especially for Yoongi to slip himself in.

"You're so cold." You mumble against the sheets, scooting to make room for Yoongi to situated himself in your bed next to you. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you close, instantly wanting some of the heat you radiated under the covers. "Yoooongi." You whine, trying to pry his arms off of you.

"Baby, you're so warm though." He snuggles against your neck. "Missed you." You continue to whine a bit until you feel him warming up behind you.

"How was Akio's birthday outing?"

"Fun. Kinda drunk, not gonna lie."

"I see." You chuckle a bit, eyes still closed as you turn to face him and snuggle against his chest.

"Been too long without you."

"Shut up." You giggle, eyes slowly flickering as you look at him in the dark.

"Did you miss me?"

"No."

"Fucking liar." He laughs, pulling you closer. He places a peck on your forehead before moving down to the tip of your nose and your lips. You giggle when he continues to give you small, feathery kisses against your lips, playfully pushing him away to get some air.

"You're so fucking affectionate right now. Gross."

"Just missed you." He squeezes your thigh and pulls you near, your waist tucked as close as possible to his crotch. You liked it when he did this shit though, always telling you how much he missed you, how much he wanted you. Always made you feel good, feel special. "Can I kiss you, please?" He looks at you, brushing the hair away from your face and off your shoulder.

"You still have to ask?" You turn a bit, laying on your back with your head turned towards his direction.

"I always have to ask. I never like to assume." He says, large hand coming to cup your cheek. "C'mere." His thumb caresses the surface as he slowly brings your face closer to his, eyes drawn to yours, then down to your lips. When you feel his soft lips press a light kiss against your own, you can't help but release all the butterflies in your tummy. You feel tingles run down your spine, your arms, entire body, even as he continues to deepen his kisses.

It's a quiet night. The only sounds that fill the room are the sweet, soft, slow kisses being exchanged between the two of you. And it was perfectly fine. There were no expectations to fulfill any other need besides being in each other's company and enjoying each other's kisses.

His hand slips down to your sides, giving it a gentle squeeze as he pulls you closer, peppering your jaw and the surface of your neck with feathery kisses. He hungrily moves back to your lips, sucking on your bottom lip before pulling it back with a soft pop. You moan against the next kiss, tugging on his shirt as his hand roams inside of yours.

"Can we fuck already?"

"Not what I came here for." He chuckles when he pulls back from the kiss. "Just wanted to kiss you and cuddle you to sleep."

"Wow, are you being foreel?" You kinda laugh in his face, unsure if he was serious or not.

"Seriously." He edges his face to kiss you some more on the neck, letting him do whatever he wanted to do to you.

Which was that; it was just that. And sometimes, you really did enjoy this part of having Yoongi around— where there was nothing but safety, comfort. No strings attached.

/ END FLASHBACK

The flashback comes into Yoongi's mind after he steps out of the shower, your constant 'I'm sorry's' repeating in his head while he looked at his own business card sitting next to his phone on the bathroom sink counter.

More like your voice repeating in his head, the look on your face repeating in his head. Your eyes, lips.

He can never forget those.

The towel hangs loosely on his waist, water drips down his orange hair, down his chest. He lets out a deep sigh before grabbing his phone, clicking his teeth when he grabs the card.

"Fuck." He mumbles to himself when he types in your number and decides to send a text. A lousy, little text—

[unknown number] 8:53am: coming by again any time soon?

[unknown number] 8:54am: it's yoongi btw

He's definitely lost his touch. He does a slight head tilt when he tosses his phone aside, waiting for your response. Albeit, he hasn't really had a relationship since he was messing with you. Had a few fuckbuddies on the side to try and get rid of the shit you put him through. Nonetheless though, it was never going to compare.

You look at your phone, startled at the sudden notification [especially since it wasn't your family or Rissa]. You look at Yoongi's text for a little bit, unsure if you're relieved he actually put your number to use or if you're nervous about interacting with him some more.

[y/n] 8:58am: why do you ask?

[yoongi] 9:01am: promos happening, just thought you should know

You smirk. That was a terrible lie, and he should've known better than to pull that one.

[y/n] 9:05am: riiiight.. lol. thought about coming later today. could use another massage after this proposal takes everything out of me. wasn't sure if i'd try another kind of massage tho.

[yoongi] 9:07am: you don't want the other dudes here, trust me

[y/n] 9:08am: and why not??

[yoongi] 9:11am: just cause. let me know if you're stopping by, ok? i'm free at 4.

[y/n] 9:12am: yoongi, i know you aren't really just texting me about some promos..

[yoongi] 9:14am: i mean i am

[yoongi] 9:15am: listen, i just want you to know that i didn't mean to come off rude or anything last session. i'm sorry, alright? you know i never mean to hurt you, but i also had to be real with you

[y/n] 9:17am: heard you loud & clear.

[yoongi] 9:18am: so coming by later today?

[y/n] 9:20am: sure, i guess so. why not.

[yoongi] 9:21am: kk

[y/n] 9:22am: why do you want me to come by so badly?

[yoongi] 9:23am: just think we need to re-do last session, felt kinda bad

[yoongi] 9:25am: i gotta run, i'm about to be fucking late and i haven't even left the house yet. i'll see u later

You look at your phone in slight disbelief. This was starting to sound a bit like the Yoongi you knew, however, you were still confused as to why he wanted you to come by so badly.

Plus, he didn't even want you to try the other services they had to offer because he felt like he needed to re-do the last session?

He was up to something. Even if he wouldn't say it directly.

But really, you knew it was easy for Yoongi to feel bad. He never liked making you upset in any way possible, never liked making you feel like you weren't worth his time or effort. Because you always were worth it, you were always going to be worth it to him.

When you left the other day, he couldn't help but feel a tad bit guilty about his tone and how he came off. He never intended for it to be that way. Sure, he was hurt. But he wasn't going to fight fire with fire. Seeing you made him miss you, too. He was afraid to admit it, but he'll say it now. He does miss you. He misses how things used to be. And maybe it won't ever go back to that 100%, but he'd enjoy having you back in his life one way or another.

That's why he doesn't want you to try the other services and see his colleagues. They had their own shit going on too, anyway. He tends to be pretty selfish with you, whether he realizes it or not.

Your day goes by stressfully, with this month-long proposal finally being submitted as a final draft to your boss. You had put in so much time and effort into this, fixing every single detail down to the T to make sure it was to his liking. He has you walk through the proposal from beginning to end, suggesting teeny tiny last n minute edits before he tells you that the proposal is beautiful and that it should be good to go after the last corrections have been made.

A relief.

You definitely deserved this massage, especially since you worked so hard, so long, on this shit [that wasn't necessarily even your responsibility] and took the project under your wing with grace.

Waltzing into Blissful Hands a bit before 4PM, the waiting room is a bit more packed than you the past two times you've been here. Yannie gives you a wave, signaling for you to do the same routine before seeing Yoongi. You sit there awkwardly, fiddling with your fingers until you see Yoongi poke his head out from the hallway to give you an 'i'm ready for you' nod. You purse your lips together and follow him to his room— this time, candles lit, incense burning.

"Uh, wow." You set your things aside. "Those smell really nice."

"Figured I'd help you relax a bit more this time." He looks at you. "How are you feeling today?"

"Good I guess, finally fucking finished that proposal I've been working on for months."

"Yeah?" He licks his bottom lip before turning. "That's good. Assuming you're in marketing like you've always dreamed of getting into?" You shrug before walking towards the back divider.

"Mhm." It's quiet for a moment as you switch out of your clothes and get into the robe, gently sitting on the edge of the table while your feet dangle as Yoongi prepares the rest of his supplies. He finally turns and comes towards you, hand brushing the hair away from your shoulder.

"Is it okay if I start with the front today?" He asks you.

"Do you always do that?"

"Sometimes, If I wanna switch it up."

"You know best." He chuckles a bit.

"Lie down, please." He hands you a smaller linen to cover your breasts when you slip out of the robe and lie down in the position he needs you to be in.

"Did you really feel bad for last time?"

"Kinda, yeah. Not gonna lie. Didn't want you to think I was coming off like a dick."

"Maybe just a tad. Understandable though. It's my fault."

"Sorry." He says. "I am happy to see you again, you know?" He says softly. "You always win."

"Win?" You watch as he drips some oil down your arm, eyes locking onto yours as he places the tiny bottle down. He starts to work his hands down your arm and up to your shoulder, to the base of your neck, his touch sending tingles down your spine this time.

"I can never stay mad at you." He says huskily. "After all this time, I didn't think it'd be the same way, but it is."

"Elaborate."

"I—" He sighs a bit, positioning himself right above your head as he drops more oil down your left arm and abdomen. "I was just remembering the times we spent together, that's all."

"I miss it." You simply tell him. You know your eyes should be shut right now, but for some reason, you can't. He doesn't even tell you to, and you know it's his intention when he locks eyes with you during the duration of his warm up. Even as Yoongi turns to grab some of his stones, he still looks at you.

He keeps looking at you.

You swallow the lump in your throat when he takes a stone down your arm, slowly. His body drops a little closer to yours, his chin almost matching your level when he brings it back up and down with the right pressure.

"Does it feel okay?" He asks, close to a whisper, lips only inches away from yours.

"Mhm." You look at him.

"Harder? Softer? Let me know."

"It's perfect, Yoongi."

"Okay." He works your arms before moving the smaller stones to your abdomen. His finger gently brushes over the linen cloth covering your clothed pussy, his eyes flickering back up to you when he catches you slightly flinch. "You okay?"

"Sorry, was just not ready for that."

"I'll take it slow." He says, his hands using the stones as an extension as he kneads and kneads gently into your stomach and abdomen. You weren't sure why, but you were nervous around him. But in a way where you had hoped you were still enough for him. In a way where he'd look at you and still remember how he felt about you back in the day, even if you couldn't get that back. At least he'd remember.

His touch makes your palms sweaty and he feels that when he takes his tiny stones against your palm and places them in between your fingers.

"Nervous?"

"Not really." He smirks.

"You don't have to lie, I can tell Y/N." He gives you a hand massage. "Don't be nervous, okay? I told you I wanted you to relax this time around."

"Okay."

"Gonna move to your legs now." He uncovers your right leg, locking eyes with you once again when he lets the oil drip from your thigh to your inner thigh, even as he continues to move down your leg. His large hands start from your feet, up to your calf and knee before he's kneading your thigh and inner thigh. Your breathing hitches when you feel him getting closer and closer to your heat, only for him to pull away and grab his stones.

"Yoongi?" You panic and call for him even though you don't necessarily know what you're trying to say right now.

"Mhm?"

"T-that felt nice." You recover quickly.

"Yeah?" He focuses the stone in his palm against your inner thigh, watching as you close your eyes momentarily, body feeling heavy but relaxed in his grip. "Good."

And it's like that, it just continues to be a teasing game for the majority of the session. You weren't sure what Yoongi was hinting at during this moment, but god, did he make you feel good. He always knew how to make you feel good, one way or another. The session goes on for the full hour, Yoongi standing near the side of the table as you try to sit up and stable yourself post-mini nap while he worked on your back. He places his hand on your thigh as your cover your body with the linen cloth, brushing your hair back as you sit and get yourself together.

"Yo, are you okay? Was it that bad?" You chuckle.

"Shut up. It felt so nice. I wish I could just lay here forever, seriously." He smiles. "You're really good at what you do."

"Thanks." You look at him and he doesn't say much, but he also doesn't move away. "Guess I'll be seeing you again then?"

"Maybe." You stand, bodies almost pressed together with the way he doesn't move in his position. "I just hope I'm not a bother."

"You've never been a bother. Just wanted you to actually enjoy yourself." He says. The pause lingers for longer than you imagined, and you're not entirely sure what takes over you in that brief moment [although you kinda do], but you move yourself closer to him, lips crashing into his.

He doesn't move away.

He takes the kiss and runs with it, hands coming up to the small of your back to press you flush against him. You can feel the bulge in his pants against your covered core, and suddenly, you want more out of Yoongi. You're just not sure if you could have it the same way you did before—

"Do you know what you're doing right now?" He pulls back slightly, whispering against your lips.

"Think so."

"I don't know if we should be doing this again."

"Then why didn't you stop me earlier?"

"Shit is just going to get complicated."

"It doesn't have to be. What was all that during the session?"

"I was just doing my job, Y/N" He steps back a bit, teeth nibbling onto his bottom lip. "I—yeah." He sets his things aside. "We probably shouldn't." He scratches at his temple, flustered from the kiss because yeah, does he want you. He really does miss you, does miss having that relationship he had with you— keeping you close, having you to himself at one point.

He's not sure why or how these feelings came rushing back, but they did, especially after you laid that kiss on him moments ago. It's like the complete closure you two were looking for never came because it brought you two to this very moment where maybe, you didn't need to close that part off. Maybe, you both didn't need to shut each other out completely for the rest of your lives.

Maybe, it would be better this time around.

But no, Yoongi still gets a little afraid, still is doubtful. He doesn't know anything about your life right now besides you working your dream job. Hell, you could have a man for all he knows and that could all be fucked up and complicated now.

What was he doing?

What were you two doing?

That was always the question, and that's probably the biggest reason why he just had to step away in the first place.

"Um, I'll give you some space to get dressed." He says, clearing his throat. "You can make your next appointment at the front after, okay?"

"Wait, Yoongi—" You watch as he scurries on out, shutting the door behind him and leaving you to your own peace. "Fuck." You run your hand through your hair, dragging the stupid linen cloth along with you to the back divider to get changed. You still hoped you could catch him, so you hurriedly throw on your clothes and grab your bag, not realizing that your wallet had been poking out and fell onto the floor in the midst of your swift motions.

No Yoongi in sight.

You let out a deep sigh, tugging on your bag strap as you walk out and greet Yannie with that same old 'it felt amazing' smile you always give her before walking out of the establishment.

Fresh air. Fresh, fresh air. No tension, no suffocation.

"Rissa, fuck." You call her as soon as you step into your door, tossing off your shoes and throwing your keys aside. "I'm sorry, I know it's probably still stupid early there but I need you."

"What happened?" She sleepily asks, still trying to get some shut eye in before she has to fully wake up for her day.

"I kissed him."

"Oh fuck." She lets out with a laugh. "Ohhh fuck. Wow, yeah, I like waking up to this kinda news."

"No, bad!" You tell her in a whiny tone. "I shouldn't have, and now it's probably gonna be so awkward. I couldn't help it though, I felt like he was teasing me all session and being gentle with me for certain reasons."

"He's a fucking masseuse, Y/N." She laughs.

"He was teasing me!"

"Listen, he probably liked the kiss so much he had to run off and hide his boner." She shuffles in the back. "That boy has always had it for you. I ship."

"Rissa."

"What, you can't tell me that this is out of the ordinary. You two are always so fucking weird about your relationship, especially you. Just get together already!" She yells into her pillow. "You two obviously have always really liked each other and those feelings never went away. Why don't you finally do something about it? I mean, don't you think there's a reason why you two crossed paths again?"

"Ugh."

"Yeah, ugh. You're telling me." She chuckles. "Go for it this time. Please don't hold back and just go for it." You pause, digging through your bag to try and find your wallet. "Hello? All of a sudden you don't wanna say shit." She jokes.

"Wait, oh my god." You start to panic a bit when you realize your wallet is nowhere to be found. "What the fuck!"

"What's wrong?"

"My wallet? It's gone? I don't know if I dropped it or—"

"Did you have it on you when you got to the massage parlor?"

"Yeah, I did." You sigh and run your hand through your hair. "Shit."

"Welp, guess you're going back to see Yoongi." She giggles. "I better hear about him clapping your cheeks when you get back."

"You're too much." You roll your eyes and shake your head. "I gotta go before I lose my shit even more."

"Update me, text me, whatever. I hope you find it, boo. I'm sure it's just there."

"Thanks. I'll keep you posted." You grab your keys, sighing deeply as you slip back into your shoes and head out back to the parlor. It's not as busy as it was earlier, with only two people waiting in the waiting room for their sessions. Yannie is surprised to see you back, questioning whether or not something had gone wrong during your last session. You simply tell her no, and that you were just over to check if your wallet had fallen out in Yoongi's room. Luckily, he doesn't have anyone back there just yet, so she lets you head on back and straight to his room.

No Yoongi again, though.

You peek your head in at first, scanning the room to see if Yoongi may have just been hiding in the corners, but he wasn't there. You welcome yourself into the room anyway, figuring you were harmlessly looking for your wallet. You scan the side of the room thoroughly, checking the sides, crevices, making sure you weren't missing the item as you passed along. When you finally hit the back area, you catch a glimpse of your wallet right underneath the divider, giving you some relief.

"Oh, thank god." You mutter to yourself.

"What're you doing?" You jump, startled at Yoongi's voice as he stands at the doorway with a tangerine in his hand.

"I—uh, dropped my wallet. Didn't realize it until I got home." You raise your wallet and shyly show him.

"Oh." Is all he says.

"Sorry, I'll get out of your way now." You try to rush out but he blocks your path, holding his hand out.

"Wait, you don't have to rush out."

"Kinda want to after earlier." You directly tell him.

"I'm sorry, I just didn't know what to do in the moment." He looks at you, genuinely trying to apologize. "I mean— it happened so fast. I didn't know what to say or do." He stumbles over his own words.

"You shouldn't be the one apologizing."

"Look Y/N, I didn't mean all of that. I didn't mean to lead you on, or anything. It was kinda just.. a defense mechanism for me. It's been so long since we both had been close in that way and I'm afraid you'd pull the same shit."

"Things change, you know? Even though I didn't try before, doesn't mean I wouldn't try this time around." You try to brush past him, but you still aren't successful. "Yoongi, please just let me get home."

"I know things change." He says. "Can we— can we just do that whole thing over?"

"You'd want to?" You cock your head to the side, trying your best to read him.

"I know we both had our own faults in the past and I want to leave that there as much as possible. At the same time, I really missed you and it's been hitting me ever since the first time you walked into this establishment. I don't know what it is about you, Y/N. I don't know if I'll ever figure it out. But I want us to move past that and start fresh, whatever that means. I'd hate to let you slip away again." He looks at you, stares into your soul almost. You don't really know what to say except, you know this feeling all too well. You've felt this for Yoongi for so long, you've thought about him and your relationship with him for so long. He was the one you couldn't stop thinking about, the one who you always managed to ponder 'what if's' and 'maybe's' about.

You're also terrible with words, but you nod anyways. And you finally find the courage to tell him—

"I feel the same way." He gives you a tiny smile before placing his tiny tangerine down on the counter. He gently cups your cheeks, pulling you in for a kiss that manages to deepen quickly— so quickly that you find yourself being carried onto the table. Yoongi sits you on the end, hands roaming up your sides before giving it a good squeeze.

"I wasn't sure how to take it earlier, please don't take it personally." He whispers near your jaw as he begins to pepper it with light kisses. You tilt your head back slightly to give him more area to work with, eyes shut and rolling to the back of your head when you feel his tongue glide over your neck and below your ear.

"I'm sorry. I—" You whisper back, trying to explain why you had the sudden urge to kiss him at that moment, but he cuts you off.

"It's fine, you don't need to explain. We're here now, right? Can't necessarily turn back." His lips graze yours as his hand travels down your shirt, tugging on the bottom half to signal that he wants you out of it. "Don't necessarily want to, either."

"Fuck— don't you have someone coming in soon?"

"In about 30 minutes, yeah."

"Yoongi."

"Can make you cum before then, right?" He smirks, finally getting you out of your top.

"Is that on your secret menu?"

"No." He chuckles. "Promise." His hands start to roam over your breasts, giving them a good squeeze while he continues to kiss you passionately— working his tongue in your mouth, sucking on your tongue in between. He tugs on your bottoms, getting you to slip out of them with ease. He feels the wet spot pooling on those thin, black panties you have on and it instantly sends blood rushing to his dick—

The fact that you two still had this affect on each other, he couldn't help himself.

You continue to kiss him roughly, passionately, as you get him out of his own clothes, tossing all the pieces of fabric to various points in the room. He slips you out of your panties, instantly rubbing his thumb against your clit. You let out a quick, muffled moan against his lips, only for Yoongi to pull back and smirk at you.

"Like that?" You nod.

"Why'd you stop?"

"Thought I could make it a little more fun." You watch as he grabs his oil and his smaller stones. "If.. that's okay with you. These were the ones I used on you earlier."

"Okay." You say, close to a whisper, gently bringing your lips back onto his. Your hands snake up his neck to get a good grip on his orange strands, tugging on them lightly as he works his way down to your neck again. He pulls away slightly, locking eyes with you before he spreads your legs wider and lets some drops of oil fall down your abdomen and onto your pussy.

He sees your breathing hitch again, but this time, he takes the stone and presses it against your clit to start massaging the oil around.

"Yoongi, fuck." You breathe out as you sit back a bit further, head tilting in pleasure.

"Can already tell how wet you are for me." He bites onto his bottom lip as he continues to work the stone and oil against your clit, free hand slipping in two fingers to pump in and out of you. If it weren't for the soft music Yoongi had playing in the background, you were sure people passing by could hear how wet you were. Because to Yoongi, all he hears is you. The way your pussy sounds when he works his digits inside, the way you let out soft moans as you sit back and let him do his work.

"Need you inside." You let out breathily as you open your eyes again and watch Yoongi damn near pierce his bottom lip with how quick he's trying to work his magic and make you cum on his fingers.

"Wanna cum for me first?" He says near the surface of your neck, lips grazing below your ear before he takes your earlobe into his mouth and gently tugs back. He works the stone faster against your clit, the pressure enough to have you reaching the edge quicker than expected even if the stone was losing its heat.

"Fuck, yeah— like that—" You whine, working your hips against his motions. "Shit, I'm gonna cum—" In a matter of seconds, you feel your high, body twitching as you finally tip over the edge and call Yoongi's name. He slowly pumps his digits in and out, helping you work through your high until he slowly removes it from inside of you. He smirks, setting the stone and oil aside before grabbing at your jaw.

"Open." You do as told, allowing Yoongi to slip in his fingers just so you could have a taste of yourself. "That's my girl." He says.

"Wanna feel you, please." You beg, watching as Yoongi strokes his rock hard cock before bringing you back closer to the edge of the table and spreading your legs wide open for him.

"I got you, baby. You know I always do. Lay back for me and relax." He says, dropping some oil down the valley of your breasts, your stomach. He takes two stones into his palms, gliding it over your chest and stomach, multitasking to add the right pressure through his hands while he takes a hardened bud into his mouth and tongues it in circular motions.

"Oh my god—" You whine, feeling him move onto the next nipple to repeat the process, his tongue gliding effortlessly over your bud. When he finally feels like he's had enough teasing you and making you beg for more, he leans back, setting his shit aside before giving your clit a good rub. He spits on to your pussy, watching it drip down to meet his cock as he slowly penetrates your entrance. Your mouth falls open, a silent moan releasing. It's been years, but you could never forget how Yoongi always made you feel so good, so fucking full and complete.

"Fuck, missed this." He huffs as he bottoms out. He stays in his position for awhile, afraid to move and release too fast, even though he knows he's on a bit of a time crunch right now. He slowly begins to thrust in and out of you, finding his rhythm after a few strokes. He's careful to make sure he doesn't make too much noise with the table, careful to place his hand over your mouth when he starts to hear you moan loudly again as he picks up his pace.

But all in all, his end goal was to make you beg for more and fuck you into oblivion.

Which, he always manages to do. He manages to do it tonight. He's fucking you so good and so deep that you're screaming his name into his palm, tears spilling over and staining your cheeks. His hand has a tight grip onto your thigh, keeping you stationary as he rocks into you— in and out, in and out.

"Baby shit, you feel so good." He moans deeply, head tilting back in pleasure for a quick moment before he's focused on you and only you. "Gonna make me cum all over you. You want that?" You nod, whimpering a quick 'mhm' into his palm once again while he continues with the momentum he has going. You tap his wrist a few times, signaling that you're about to reach your high again tonight, and he picks up on a quick.

"Cumming—" You manage to mumble.

He sees the way you grip onto his wrist.

Feels the way you're clenching around his cock.

Watches the quick way your chest rises with every breath.

It's not long before he feels you tightening around him, eyes shut as you dig your nails onto his wrist and moan loudly into his hand.

"Fuck, gonna cum with you." He groans. The sight, the feeling, is enough for Yoongi reach his high, quickly pulling out to release his seed all over the surface of your pussy.

"Holy shit." You pant, laying there as you and Yoongi try to regulate your breathing. His hands run up your sides to help soothe you, leaning down to place a kiss on your lips before coming back up to grab a towel near the table.

"You okay?"

"More than okay." He chuckles.

"Let me clean you up." He says, wetting the towel and cleaning you up before helping you up from the table.

"You have like 7 minutes before your next client." He shrugs.

"It's fine, I'll clean up quick." You slip back into your own clothes.

"The stones?" You look at him and point at the table.

"Ah, yeah. I'll sanitize those but I'll probably stash them away for you." You laugh.

"Wow, I get my own set of dedicated stones, huh?"

"Probably better that way, anyway. I have extra, and Yannie can always order more for me." You shake your head.

"Thanks, by the way." You raise your wallet. "Needed this."

"Figured." He fixes his shirt and tucks it into his pants before letting out a breath and walking back towards you. "So, am I gonna see you again?" He pulls you tightly by the waist, keeping you flush against him as you look him in the eyes and smile.

"Just might." He chuckles and nods before caressing your chin and placing a warm, soft peck against your lips.

"Let me know when you get home, alright?"

"Okay. Have a good rest of your shift." You giggle before walking out and leaving him to his peace. Getting home, all you could think about was the sudden turn of events and how you were going to tell Rissa about the shit that just happened.

She'd be fucking ecstatic.

She was.

Not even gonna lie.

You had to pull the phone from your ear a couple of times even though that girl claimed she was going to keep it a minimum since she was supposedly on a team call. And to be quite honest, you liked every bit of it even though it made you flustered at times. You liked it because you finally felt like you could do this right, could do him right. You liked it because it finally felt like things had fallen into place and that the closure you thought you needed didn't have to actually come—

Because now, you and Yoongi could finally move on and move past that grey area, together.

>> 1.5 MONTHS LATER

For days, you and Yoongi had continued to see each other at the parlor, both for hot stone reasons and other reasons, before he was finally seeing you at your place and vice versa. Following those weeks and the next month or so, you had started to see each other outside of work, spending a lot of time together and spending the night at each other's homes. Everything had grown quickly, but at the same time, it only felt natural being that you and Yoongi had known each other and had been in this space before. It almost feels like you two picked up right where you left off, even though the both of you considered this to be a fresh start.

It felt amazing, real, genuine.

Like everything had fallen right into your lap just how it should have. And hell yeah, you learned your lesson from the beginning. You weren't gonna mess this up again.

"Scoot." He smiles when he sees you laying down in his bed with nothing on. You set your phone on his nightstand, gripping the sheets closer to your body when you turn and face him. He slips himself in, immediately pulling you flush against his body before brushing the hair out of your face. "What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing." He lets out a small laugh, giving your side a light squeeze.

"Say it, baby."

"It's just kinda crazy, isn't it?"

"What?"

"This. Us?"

"It's crazy only if you make it crazy." You playfully punch him on the chest.

"Seriously." You pout and he gives in, he always gives in.

"A bit, but I wouldn't think too much of it. Guess this is how it was meant to happen."

"Never got that closure because we never needed the closure." You added.

"Are you happy, though?"

"Of course I am." He looks at you and presses a kiss against your forehead.

"I want you to let me know when you aren't, okay? The last thing I want is for you to be unhappy. Doesn't matter if that means with me or not. I just want you to be honest."

"I know. But, I am." He nods.

"Okay." You lean in and kiss him on the lips just as he turns from shutting off his nightstand light.

"Sleeping already?" You mumble against his lips and he smirks.

"I mean, fuck. Yeah? Was hoping to at least get some sleep tonight." You giggle, gently grabbing at his jaw and pulling him in for another kiss.

"No fuuuun." You whine.

"What'd you have in mind then?"

"Oh, I don't know? Thought we could just stay up and talk." His breathing hitches when he feels your soft hand stroking his cock, hardening by the minute.

"S-stay up and talk, huh?" He lets out a breathy moan when he feels you pump him slowly, grabbing his tip and smearing his pre-cum all over your clit. "Aren't you tired, baby?"

"Nope. We don't have to go all the way, though." You say, slipping his cock in between your legs, enough for it to glide smoothly back and forth between your pussy lips. A low groan emits from his lips, hand gripping onto your ass to keep you close. He sucks onto your bottom lip before biting down and pulling back.

"Always make me feel so good." He whispers, feeling your wetness spread across his length. It's almost embarrassing how quick you can make him cum just by doing this but god, it felt heaven sent. Just being with you, by you, all around you, felt heaven sent.

"I could at least do my part somehow, right?" You giggle, nipping at his chiseled jawline while rocking along his length, picking up your pace at the same time. He feels your tongue swipe against the surface across his throat, making Yoongi let out a moan that has him stressing—

"B-baby, gonna make me cum—fuck—" His pants getting heavier, cock twitching underneath you. You glide slowly, feeling his tip brush up against your clit before sliding back down before picking up your pace again.

"Gonna cum with you." You whisper, feeling yourself tipping over the edge with every move you make at this point. When Yoongi finally lets himself go, it's mid-kiss and he's having to grip your waist tightly as he releases white ribbons messily all over your legs and in between. You tremble in his grip, allowing yourself to fully let go as well while he holds you close.

"That felt so good, princess." He presses a kiss against your temple, holding you close to him as you come down from your own high. He grabs a few napkins from the nightstand to clean you both up nicely before he's tossing it into the trash can and shutting his eyes when his body crashes back onto the mattress.

"Yeah it did." You throw your leg over him as you lay on his chest and listen to his heartbeat slowing down. "Are you really gonna sleep?"

"Baby." He laughs. "Yes?! As much as I love you, you fucking wear me out. Sheesh." You chuckle.

"Fine."

"Goodnight. Expect me to wake you up bright and early though."

"Mhm." You tease as he kisses the top of your head. As promised, Yoongi does wake you up very bright and early for another round. And you loved these moments with him, you loved it even more now because he was yours and you were his. No more of that bullshit, that fuckbuddy-no-strings-attached-but-kinda-strings-attached grey area you both had going on for years.

It just felt right.

When the both of you split ways in the morning for work, you figured you'd visit him during his lunch just to spend more time with him [as if you didn't already]. Rissa calls you while you drive over to the parlor just as she makes her way to the airport as her work trip finally comes to an end.

Not only was Yoongi yours, but your bestfriend was finally coming home.

Yeah, shit felt right.

"You better tell him I'm coming over as soon as I reach the airport so I can tease the hell out of both of you."

"Yeah, yeah."

"I'm so happy. Fucking finally. I get to come home. I get to spend time with my bestfriend. I get to see her happy. Maybe I'll finally find somebody to mess with at Blissful Hands, too."

"Please." You laugh. "Don't even start."

"Can't promise." She squeals. "I'm excited. I'll text you as soon as I'm on my way over, alright?"

"Oh, you were serious?"

"Yeah I fucking was, you better make room for me. Yoongi can wait." You nod.

"Alright, alright. Speaking of him, I just got here. Have a safe flight, okay? I love you."

"I love you too!" You end the call and tuck your phone into your purse before heading into the establishment.

"Goodmorning Miss Y/N." Yannie smiles at you.

"Hey!"

"He's on his lunch in the back."

"Cool, thanks." You say, heading back towards Yoongi's room. On the way over, you see his colleagues getting ready for their own clients. One smiles at you [Taehyung or was it Namjoon?] while the other mumbles to him—

"Great, gonna have to hear him fuck her brains out again." Which you catch on the way to Yoongi's, making you giggle to yourself before you greet your man and shut the door behind you.

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