#also need to remember the bandaids on the legs they are an aspect i love so much

[insecure-amphibian]

Now that he is mine mine. I present, silly doodles of the dog while I get used to his design.

While getting used to the design and doodling it helps me learn things about how to draw him more!

Notes include

- when drawn he needs to be round.

- I need to make his hair longer and wormier.

- eyes are completely optional which is always lovely.

[workmaninprogress]

Forewarning, this is a long post. I tried to pare it down but couldn’t.

I don’t know how to do a page break thing on this app, so y’all will just have to scroll.

Sorry not sorry (I am a little sorry).

Four years ago, I had my first testosterone prescription in my hand.

I remember the day clearly. At the time, I was seeing an endo 2 hours away. A few of my friends also saw him, so I had been to that office multiple times as fun group trips.

When it came down to it being my turn to go on hormones, I drove myself by myself. I’m not sure how I felt about the solitary aspect of it at that moment. I was probably bummed that my friend’s class schedule didn’t fit in my favor, but I doubt I was too concerned about it.

Though, I think, even without fully realizing it, I was gearing up for my transition to be done in solitude.

As I started to research medical transitioning, I kept finding people going through the same journey. I was watching them as they were having “goodbye boobies” cakes and “man-niversary” parties. Pre-transition me was so excited for all of that. I wanted that camaraderie—those celebrations.

I had this grand idea that I’d meet a girl that cared deeply enough to be around for every shot and kiss me after I put the bandaid on. Or that I’d have the group of friends where we all celebrated each other’s milestones together.

But that’s not what happened. Instead, I met a girl, and for nearly four years, I felt like a compromise. Like my transition was in the way of what she wanted. She didn’t care to watch me jab a needle in my leg. She didn’t treat my scars with kindness. She cared that I was “hot” and that I was “the best of both worlds.” I thought it was a compliment, it wasn’t.

While prepping for top surgery, I struggled to find someone to go to Florida with me. I wanted a couple of friends to share the experience with; help make it fun instead of only focused on recovery.

I watched many people go through their transition with friends loving on them. But when it was my turn, it felt like it was a challenge to find people who could be around.

Those moments were hard. I felt like I wasn’t as worthy as the others who were surrounded by loved ones. Quite frankly, I was bitter and jealous.

I’ve moved past those feelings since then. I'm able to acknowledge that schedules, work, and money all played a factor, but when you hear ”you’re just asking way too much,” then you start to feel like your existence is too much. And that hurts.

Thankfully, I did have people to support me (my mom & a friend) during that trip.

Because I DO have plenty of support, even if I’m stubborn and put up a wall, making myself feel like no one is around, I have people that love on me and care for me.

I don’t want to come off as ungrateful or like I’m bashing my friends.

I know they care; I know I’m not a burden to them.

I just never expected my transition to feel so lonely, and some days that thought hits too hard.

I had friends around for my first shot, the first time I shaved my face, and the days we spent filming a silly coming out video. Those moments of camaraderie have existed in my life. They’re few and far between, and I’m positive I’ve forgotten about a lot of them. But they have existed, and I’m grateful for them.

There are just so many times that I wish this wasn’t such a lonely process.

For the most part, I emptied my top surgery drains myself. I peeled off the incision tape myself. I do my shots alone in my bedroom. I take the progress photos of myself.

Some days it’s an empowering feeling, like “look at all I’ve accomplished on my own,” other days, the silence cuts deep.

What I’ve learned over my four years since getting my first ‘script is that transitioning isn’t a team sport. It’s you working your ass off day and night to reach the goals you’ve set for yourself.

And sometimes, that means it gets ridiculously lonely.

Your experience may differ from mine; in fact, it probably does. You may have someone with you for every shot. You may have someone who emptied your drains and tucked your post-surgery-drugged ass into bed.

Maybe you’re in more solitude than I am. Perhaps you’ve gone through every single part of this journey as a solo tour.

Maybe you’ve experienced a bit of both with people that have come in and out of your life over the years.

There’s no wrong way to go through this process. We’re all just as strong for sticking around and sticking needles in our butts whether there are people by our sides or not.

When I posted the photo of that prescription in my hand, my golden ticket, I said, “This is only the beginning. There is so much more to come.”

And I still believe it.

Four years later, I’ve become more cynical and perhaps bitter towards my transition, but there truly is so much more left to discover.

Now that I’ve gotten that rant out of the way (it’s one I’ve been deciding whether or not to post), I acknowledge that I do have great friends. And a great family. I have people in my life that are so utterly proud and aren’t afraid to say it. I’m grateful for all those that have been by my side. Truly.

Sometimes my walls get in the way and make things lonelier than they need to be, so I’ll work on it.

If you’re feeling lonely in your transition right now, as weird as this sounds, you’re not alone in those feelings. Even if you have the most supportive people next to you, it’s still okay to feel lonely. You don’t have to feel guilty about it.

That’s the main reason I’ve written these thoughts out; because they’re confusing and often conflicting.

I have had a hard time letting myself feel lonely without an overwhelming sense of guilt about it.

I wanted to share these thoughts for those of you that are in the same head space.

It’s nice knowing that I have accomplished so much of my transition myself. I feel stronger because of it. I’ve come a long way in the four years since that solo drive, and will forever be thankful and proud.

Just as I will be forever proud and thankful for those who have been by my side during the journey.

I really do appreciate you all.

[ddaenghoney]

chapter four

masterlist link in blog description.

As a successful songwriter, you want nothing more than the acknowledgment that the chart-topping musical pieces are your own creations. But contracts, relationships, and the difficulty of facing the stakes involved head on, keep your mouth shut until pressure builds too much.

Pairing(s): Park Jimin x Y/N, Min Yoongi x Y/N

disclaimer: any characters depicted do not represent the actual personality of the respected idol in real life.

Series warning(s)/genre(s): Chapter-based written fic, Slow-burn relationship(s), Fake-dating, Unrequited love, Songwriter/producer!oc, idol!Jimin, idol/songwriter/producer!Yoongi, friends with benefits, drama, romance, smut, angst, fluff (updated as needed)

Chapter warning(s): graphic sexual depictions (fingering, like really minor dirty talk; it’s mostly dirty praise idk, oral; female receiving, cum swallowing, vaginal penetration via male penis(typing this made me laugh so hard lmao), male ejaculation without condom); i’d say it’s entirely sweet sex but uh-

Word count: 4931

if you enjoy please, please let me know!

Yoongi stands outside of the CEO office, his back against the wall beside the elevator. Waiting until the door shuts behind you, he straightens, pressing the button next to his waist to signal the elevator. Meeting eyes with his, you know there’s a lot he wants to say, but the vagueness of his expression doesn’t give you an idea of a tone. Another lecture you’re sure. Just to continue the growing streak. Yerin’s secretary glances towards you then Yoongi, curiosity taking over her to hope for something interesting to occur.

You simply follow him into the elevator.

“What was all of that?” He asks you when the door shuts, eyes peering in frustration, but you believe him to be shocked more than anything. “I’m now your fake boyfriend?” A single, breathy laugh leaves his mouth. Bitter.

“I guess,” You’re unable to meet his gaze, instead staring at the unlit elevator buttons and the lack of movement from other people calling for the elevator on this oddly slow day. “I don’t even know.”

“If I knew this would happen,” He sighs, rubbing his temples and never finishing the end of the thought. Leaving it to himself.

“This is my fault.” Your voice is barely a whisper, severity of everything catching up with you and how you’ve managed to cause trouble for Jimin and now Yoongi, who’s new to SoundWave and probably hating the employment.

“No.” Yoongi shakes his head, then exhales once more, trying to rationalize. “This is complete shit, but it’s not your fault.” In the first place, Jimin having a contract forbidding him from dating is one that Yoongi thought was just a bad rumor in the industry-- something that people didn’t actually have. There wasn’t a single employee in his last company that was forced under that rule, even though it had been frowned upon to be in public relationships. Incredibly frowned upon in a certain case. Still, Yoongi never figured the lack of a dating-ban clause in his contract and the new direction of his stage persona would lead him into a fake relationship. Irony with no humor. “Why aren’t you publically an employee?”

You reach for the elevator buttons, clicking the ground floor. The machinery shifts, starting the descent.

“Because,” You’re still hesitant about the prospect of explaining your situation. Anyone at SoundWave that has anything to do with music production knows, and Yoongi shouldn’t be an exception. It’s not like he is an intern, or part-time assistant. You may even work with him in the future, but you can’t remember ever explaining your position to someone other than Jimin. And that was only because he was whom you worked with often when first starting. “I write songs and produce, but I don’t ever get credited for it.”

“What?” Yoongi sounds like he thinks he didn’t correctly hear you. “Wait, what do you mean? Who gets the credit then?”

You sigh, eyeing the floor number that grows smaller and smaller, but not quick enough. “Whatever group or idol that ends up using them.”

“You,” He’s without comprehension, expression on his face ridiculously confused. Maybe even appalled by your job, or that he is also a part of the extremely large group under the assumption that they aren’t being lied to. Only to find out that it’s an acceptable and ongoing aspect of the company. One you’re acceptant of; otherwise you would’ve quit years ago or never taken the job to begin with. “You let your work get used under someone else’s name-- you’re lying to people, and you’re just letting that happen?”

You glare at him, but stay silent. Even if you want to argue, that’s how it is. You don’t have the power to change it, and years earlier you didn’t actually mind sliding ethics aside. You want to tell him that you’re not letting the lies occur willingly, but by the looks of his face-- something appearing increasingly unsettled and distant about your untruthful position-- you know it won’t matter. He won’t understand and maybe is even right to have his opinion of you drop to the ground.

The elevator door opens prompting you to practically jump out. “I’m going home.”

Yoongi stays inside of it, posture weighted in contempt of everything that he’s just gone through. As if the merger couldn’t get anymore terrible, now he is in a falsified relationship with someone that helps SoundWave lie to the general public just for the sake of appearances, and he’s stuck dealing with it. He groans when the doors shut again, taking a moment to bask in the nonsense of it all before clicking the button to his studio’s floor.

Outside the building you pace, considering the option of calling Jimin, but then also considering that he hasn’t texted you and is likely angry and sorting through his own thoughts of this mess. You groan, startling a passerby on their walk to wherever. Taking no notice you shake your head, pulling out your phone and ripping the bandaid off,

Y/N, 3:43pm: Can we talk?

You stare at the message thread for a passing minute, then lock the screen. He could be busy doing a thousand other things, there isn’t a reason for him to automatically get back to your message, and he could still be upset-- the screen flashes with a notification, and you immediately unlock,

Jimin, 3:44pm: Yeah, I get off close to nine.

A breath releases from your lips. At least he responded. Another message appears, the contents seizing up the next beat of your heart.

Jimin, 3:44pm: Can I call you right now?

Y/N, 3:45pm: Yeah, of course.

You descend south of the company, heading towards a nearby coffee shop when the call comes in. “Hello?”

“Hey,” Jimin sits in the recording booth, waiting for the producer to meet him there at the start of the next hour. His legs gently push on the floor, swaying the computer chair side to side. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” The concern in his voice eases you, as well as the seemingly calm demeanor. Though there is a chance he’s feigning it, you suppose. “I’m so sorry about the thing with Yoongi. I swear nothing happened-”

“I believe you, lovely.” Softly spoken, head nodding even though you couldn’t see him. Jimin bites his lip, bothered that you’ve likely been incredibly worried about what he thought ever since Yerin dropped the words. “You wouldn’t do that to me. I trust you.”

His sincerity is warm, nearly causing the fuzz of emotions in your eyes to trickle because of how much your mind was pressured from the idea that he would misunderstand. You breathe through your lips, cracking the air audibly. Jimin sits upright on his end, concern raising his voice’s volume,

“Baby, are you crying?”

“No.” You’re quick to cover up but the word itself sounds like a tremble. Jimin frowns, rubbing his face,

“I’m sorry, I would’ve texted you but I was worried your phone’s notification would be loud while you were talking to Yerin. I didn’t want it to interrupt and make her angrier.” You rub your eyes feeling no tears and just the annoying heat that seems to release from all of the stress of the past couple of hours. “What did she tell you anyways? You didn’t get in more trouble did you?”

“No, it’s nothing.” Just a speech that put you in your place, but it’s not worth mentioning. “I’m sorry I didn’t answer you over the weekend, Jimin.”

“It’s fine.” Jimin taps his index finger on the armrest, then pausing the motion as you speak up,

“No, it’s not fine. I shouldn’t have ignored you. I wasn’t being fair.” You sigh. He’s quiet at your words, surprised at the conclusion of your actions.

“I was acting like an idiot, Y/N.” He glances to the clock, knowing the producer is usually early. “I’m not mad at you for it, I deserved it. Anyways, I need to go. I just called because I wanted to hear your voice and make sure you were okay.” You smile softly at the admission. “Come to my apartment later and we’ll talk more, alright?”

“Okay,” You nod, glancing to the sign on the coffee shop that stated they are closed for the day. Unusual for a Monday. Yet fitting for the kind of day it is. “I’ll make sure no one notices me going in.”

---

Jimin can’t help chuckling at you when he opens his front door. A large zip-up hoodie drapes over you with the hood covering your face, and sunglasses complete your, to your opinion, lowkey look despite sunglasses being useless at night. You’re pouting as you remove the shades, stepping into the apartment.

“I bet the cab driver thought you were having a day.”

“He wouldn’t be wrong.” You shrug, slipping the hood off and dipping your eyes from his. Jimin sighs, head nodding in agreement. “He was telling me I was lucky to get a cab tonight and everyone is close to the city center today, so at least I got a ride if nothing else.” Jimin’s head tilts at your seemingly lack of awareness to the date,

“You know it’s New Year’s Eve don’t you?” His sentence barely completes before you’re looking back at him in shock. When you consider all of the closed establishments and lack of people at work, it makes sense, but you’re in disbelief that you forgot. Jimin smiles in endearment, reaching for your hand, “It’s been a complicated week.”

He leads you to the couch, and still calm. With all of the information he heard from Yerin, you assumed Jimin would act differently. At least be asking fervently for answers. He said on the phone that he trusts you, but despite that you wonder how he’s not appearing to be upset about it. Sitting down beside him, you watch Jimin pull his knee up on the cushion facing you. His hand fiddles with yours, thumb stroking the top.

“What should we do?”

The question isn’t one you anticipated on your way over. The diverse amount of things Jimin could mean with it flutter your mind like gusts in a tree, and the lack of strong emotion in how he spoke make your eyebrows harden in thought. “What do you mean?”

“You know,” His eyes fall to where your hands meet. Jimin squeezes tighter. A pound in his chest. “Don’t you think we should stop this all?”

Muscles tense throughout your body. The concept is so far removed from what you expected. His passive attitude to go along with it drives your head to draw a blank. You thought coming here there could be strong words in an argument of explanations, and apologies for the things Yerin called you both into the office for. Not this. Your hand squeezes around his and Jimin casts his gaze back up. Nervousness is apparent, paired with your head shaking.

Jimin bites his inner lip, trying to remain rational despite the hurt in your eyes, “We,” He hesitates, remembering the first time that he kissed you. “We’re just hurting each other, love.”

“How?” Voice higher, confused. “We’re,” You swallow dryly, “Not even dating, Jimin, why do you sound like you think we should break up.” A tiny, hollow laugh, devoid of humor. You watch helplessly as he nods,

“I know, so before it gets worse than what happened today, we should stop.” Jimin’s voice slows down, like he doesn’t want to complete the sentence. Sadder. You inhale, trying to reason his tactics in your mind,

“Then let’s date.”

“Love-”

“I don’t want to stop.” Jimin bites his lip, frowning at you while feeling the ducts of his eyes well because of your pleas. Your hand shakes in his grip, and he wills himself to stop from hugging you. “Please, I don’t want to stop. I like how we were, I,” You remember saying the opposite to him at the club. He recalls the same thing, smiling joylessly.

“We can’t stand up for each other, baby. I can’t be there for you like you deserve.” Jimin talks about the company, but also in society’s perspective. Yerin made it clear that he can’t be in a relationship publically, and for that reason the relationship between you started. Hidden. Incomplete. Jimin told you at the beginning that you should both stop if you caught feelings for somebody else and you agreed because it was just fun when it started. It wasn’t serious, but it turned into something deeper. You know that and know Jimin knows it too.

“I care about you so much.”

Jimin’s lips part at the simple, yet utterly sincere and loving words. Contrasted by the sadness of the entire situation. His hand clenches around yours. He thinks the same, but with what he knows about himself, he shouldn’t let this continue. The few cool tears dripping from his eyes plead with him as well. To admit to you the feelings that he has, but it’s more complicated.

“Jimin,” He loves hearing his name through your lips. His tear-stained face watches you move, knowing he should stop you. He doesn’t want to. He doesn’t and your lips are on his. Jimin’s hand abandons yours for your waist, to keep you from getting too close, but he kisses you back, relishing in your touch against his better judgement.

“Baby.” Jimin’s hand tightens around the side of your waist when you attempt to move closer. Mere inches from your face, his eyes lock with yours, searching for your thoughts.

“Please,” Air hitches in Jimin’s throat while your arms cascade around his neck. Your voice soft. Begging once more, by your lips kissing him sweetly. Like candy. Familiarly. “You don’t want to stop.”

“We should though.” A waver in his tone. Jimin really doesn’t want to stop, let you go, force you from his life.

“Just kiss me.” Believing you can convince him otherwise, your arms gently tug. Coaxing. In a more sensible time, you know this isn’t how to keep him with you. You know that there are problems, and the way Jimin and you are now won’t work. But you love him.

And this isn’t a sensible time.

Your hoodie is left on the couch, stripped off before Jimin lifts you to take you to his bedroom. Your lips attach along his jaw, trailing until you come in contact with the spot that elicits an expected grunt. Your arms tighten around him, holding yourself to him while working at the skin, leaving it sensitive and bruised before he lays you down.

His fingers caress on the area, smirking softly at your quick, thorough work, but his jaw tightens when you waste no time and remove your long sleeve. Inhaling a long breath, Jimin crawls over top of you,pressing your head back into the mattress as he kisses you firmly.

“What if you regret this?” Jimin’s voice blisters against your neck, syllables left in the skin like a trail leading to your collarbone where he pauses, kissing feverishly. He knows you won’t change your mind, more so when you audibly sigh and mix your fingertips into his hair,

“I can’t regret you.” You raise your hips the short distance to rub against Jimin’s, listening to his groan when he feels you against his growing bulge, “I want you, Jimin.”

For more than just the night.

Jimin’s face equals with your own, lost in your eyes until you kiss him again, prompting him to flatten against you more. His hips rub slowly over yours, firmly pressing his hardened erection against your pelvis. You moan against his lips, fueling Jimin’s emotions to win over logic. His hand reaches for the button on your jeans quickly, desiring more contact. He halts when you nudge him upwards, immediately thinking you want to stop until your fingertips are undoing each button on his top. He smirks at your hands, watching you through the sultriness in his irises.

Jimin lets you be the one to push his shirt off his shoulders, then he lets it slip off his arms to lie next to your hips on the bed. Your palm finds his chest, cementing the beat of his heart to memory. He observes quietly, curious of the slowness in your actions. The intimacy of feeling his skin in a calm manner. The moment passes when your hand moves to cup his cheek, guiding him back down to you for a kiss labored in passion, but just as vulnerable as tears.

You grind your hips opposite of his motions, creating a deeper pressure that causes a small piece of profanity to fall from his lips. Jimin’s hand finds your cleavage, squeezing over your bra to make you gasp. The article is removed then in your haste for him to touch you more, earning darkened chuckles from his lips when you lift your back from the bed to unclasp the bra, your chest pressing to his. He admires you, “You’re so precious.”

“Then don’t break up with me.” Labored words escape when you’re back against his sheets. Under his focused stare you slip your arms from the bra straps, but hesitate to remove the cups when Jimin’s chest fills with air from a sharp inhale. Watching so intently, and you swear his eyes gaze lovingly as well. He reaches his hand over yours, guiding it to slide the lingerie from your chest, exposing yourself to him for a countless time. Beautiful.

“It’s better for us,” Jimin has the nerve, the stubbornness to say this in a low voice, despite the fact that the actions currently show he’s trapped in the thing he’s deemed no good. You shake your head, then are halted by the ghosting kiss from his lips, “You mean so much to me, lovely.” A longer ministration follows, filling your thoughts of the familiarity how sweet he’s always tasted. “But we can’t become a couple. I can’t let you deal with how lousy I am.”

“You’re not,” You pepper Jimin’s cheeks, fingers trailing along his back.

“You know how I am in the company.” You don’t speak against that idea, the one you never want to bring up because it felt like an instant argument. One you didn’t think Jimin realized. “And you’re wonderful and talented,” His kisses are short and repetitive against your lips, “And deserve better than all of the crap you’re put through. But I can’t help you with it. And I don’t want to be a reason you hold yourself back.”

Before you’re able to retort at his nonsensical words, Jimin’s hand reaches between your legs palm pressing against your jeans and rubbing friction into your core. Words are lost to a whimper unprepared for the contact as well as the proceeding action his hand takes rubbing roughly, making your hips move into him craving more. Jimin kisses at your neck listening to his name fall from your lips in a needy murmur.

His hand leaves your growing pile of nerves, eliciting a breathy whine that he kisses back into your mouth. Jimin unbuttons your jeans, “Take them off.” The demanding tone is contrastingly soft, leaving your heart beating in anticipation and complying in moments to help him rid the clothing. “God,” He lifts himself upright, knees pressing further into the mattress from his weight, while he looks you over: skin already appearing glistened from need, chest concaving from breaths that leave the mess of lovebites in view on your upper body. “So beautiful.” His head tilts watching the blush on your face grow from his words. “You know that though,” A coy smirk plays at his lips, while he reaches for your thighs, gently sliding you upwards on his bed, so your head comes close to the headboard. “I tell you,” Your mouth releases a moan when his fingers press against your clit through your panties, his lips leaving airy pecks on your thighs, “Every time I can,” His smirks grows when the swipe of his thumb against your wettening heat makes your legs jerk. Trying to close, but he removes the hand to grip them back in place, respreading, “I’m going to make you feel good.”

Profanity slips from your lips in a breathless stutter when he strips you completely, Jimin’s fingers rubbing into your clit like a map memorized. Easily causing your legs to wiggle, moans slipping out when one dips inside. “Jimin,” Needily begging for more as the digit slides in and out, readying you for the second while he continues laying kisses on your chest, decorating it with heat in every spot. “Feels-” You gasp when his thumb works against your clit, the sensation mixing with his fingers pumping inside of you making your hands grip his shoulder.

Nails graze the skin as Jimin’s fingers push all the way, he grunts from the force of your hand, but leaves a kiss to your jaw, “Don’t come,” Another ministration on your lips as you whimper, already knowing you were leaving his fingers wet along with his sheets from how he was expertly edging you along, “Not yet, lovely, wait for my mouth to take you over.”

Every piece of will to listen nearly disperts from just the tone of Jimin’s voice: slow, confident. You’re so willing to be pushed over that you’re unable to stop your hips bucking into his mouth when his tongue graces the entrance of your throbbing cunt. He chuckles against you, the vibrations themselves feel good, and your face heats from your own eagerness, but you’re more focused on giving him the satisfaction he wants, “Jimin, you’re so-” You gasp as his tongue dips deeper, moaning your next words, “Good, fuck; please, I want to come.”

“Let me taste you, baby,” Jimin’s hands hold your hips as you writhe from the pleasuring sensations. He groans low when your hand leaves the bed to tangle in his hair as your orgasm coaxes through. You tremble releasing yourself with long moans, hazy while Jimin’s lips lap up your arousal, muttering praise into your core. Your head lies against his mattress, chest taking full inhales, as Jimin sits upright. His tongue drags along the remainders of you on his lips, while his eyes take in your fucked body. He crawls overtop of you, kissing you and staining your tongue with your own taste.

“I want you inside me,” You cup Jimin’s face as you murmur the words. His eyes are lidden with desire at your statement, sharply inhaling when you go on, “Fuck me, baby, please I want to make you cum in me.” Jimin kisses you, moaning to your lips as your hand rubs his shaft through tight jeans. “It’s not even fair for you to still have these on,” He chuckles, and you can’t help the tiny smirk on your lips.

“You want to come again, baby; so needy for me.” Jimin kisses your nose, his pelvis moving into the motions of your hand. His inhales grows slightly labored when you give a squeeze to his hardened bulge before you’re unbuttoning his jeans. They’re removed in moments, Jimin’s own efforts to pull of his boxers, exposing his dick, erect and sensitive enough to cause his breaths to shake when he palms himself, “You’re sure about no condom?”

“You know I’m covered there,” You say staring at his length, swallowing in anticipation for the feeling of Jimin inside of you. He notices your sultry gaze and leans back towards you, kissing you tenderly.

The emotion takes you back for a second, feeling somewhere between melancholic and warm, you’re brought back to his conviction that this would be the last time Jimin intends to be intimate with you. When his lips leave yours, your eyes are focused on Jimin’s. There’s so much you want to ask him, but when he’s as convinced as he is, what good would it do. You’re the only one with feelings surpassing love, or else he wouldn’t do this.

Jimin kisses you again, using the remnants of your previous orgasm to lubricate his length, before he’s aligning himself with your entrance and easing himself in. Your chest raises from a breath, listening to Jimin’s moans against your lips as he tops out into you, “You’re so good around me, baby. Fuck,” He grunts when your hips buck to his. You moan as his grinding begins slow in full movements to get your walls acclimated to his dick, though you’re already well stimulated.

“Fuck,” You gasp as his pace suddenly changes, Jimin pulling out only to pound back in and make you moan his name loudly. He kisses your lips before moving back to your cheek, jaw, and neck, every inch he could while he pumps into you over and over, every audible sound from you encouraging his actions. “Jimin, Jimin,” You beg using his name, feeling his hand find yours, fingers meshing as your voice grows higher from an oncoming wave wanting to burst through. “I’m close- shit--”

“God, you feel so good; your pussy takes me so well, baby,” Jimin kisses your lip hungrily, “Come for me, lovely; I’m going to,” Your hand squeezes him as the orgasm washes over you, listening to Jimin’s moaning as his seed fills you, “Fucking,” You come undone with him, the ride going through your core and releasing around Jimin’s dick as you moan loudly, senselessly, not caring if anyone could possibly hear.

Labored breathing flows into the silence of his room. Your free hand guides Jimin’s face to yours for a sweet kiss that he lets linger into a honeylike warmth. Pulling out, Jimin then lets himself fall into the bed beside you, hand still holding yours with a seeming refusal to let go. He watches quietly while you look at his ceiling aimlessly, breathing still full as your bodies calm down. “You still want us to stop.” A statement with the tone of a question.

“Yeah,” He bites his lip as you turn on your side to face him. He feels your hand grip his with a tiny tremble, and your eyes alone make his heart nearly shatter. You try your best to force the tiniest of smiles, but Jimin gently shakes his head, “Don’t pretend for my sake, sweetie.”

“It hurts.” You whisper to let out the emotions that want to escape as tears. Jimin frowns, pulling you towards him and embracing you so you could hide your face against his chest. “Are you sure this isn’t because of the thing with Yoongi?” You ask in a trembling voice while tears build in your eyes that you try to blink back.

“It’s not.” Jimin kisses the top of your head, his hands rubbing soothingly along your back, “It’s really not, baby.” He pauses, knowing there his reasoning isn’t completely selfish as he goes on, his voice sad and his reflecting that, “We just really can’t be there for each other like we’d need to be in a relationship, lovely. We’ll just hurt each other, more than we have been lately.”

You exhale a choppy breath, trying to even out your emotions for the sake of the last night with Jimin not being only tears.

You both flinch as the night sky outside flashes, with a medley of booming sounds murmuring out in the air. Jimin’s grasp on you strengthens, contemplative of what was going on as you shift to get sight of the window, covered except for the gap between the curtains.

“It must be midnight.” Your voice is hollow and you remove yourself from his warmth to crawl off the bed. Jimin’s eyes follow you inquisitive, a pit of worry brewing that you intend to leave until your hand pushes back one of the curtains, leaving the sheer set behind it out in the open. The colorful fireworks continue in happy, vibrant colors, spilling remnants of their energy as a reflection on your skin. Jimin stares in awe, silent as you turn back to face him, picturesque and ethereal in the celebratory lights. A contradiction to the events of his apartment.

A veil in the thin curtains acts as a separator between you both in the dimness of his room and the continuation of the world outside.

You walk back towards Jimin, crawling to his open arms on the bed as he greets your return with a kiss. You take it and any following in case they’re the last, settling into Jimin’s bed with him as the blankets cover your cuddling frames. It’s a long time of contentment in each other’s arms, while you both ignore that day means an end; trying to let the fireworks and their beauty be enough of a distraction between longing kisses.

Inevitably you fall asleep first, breaths soothing in sound and sight as Jimin admires the grace of your figure in his arms. He strokes your hair like you still needed to be lulled to slumber. He thinks what it would be like if he was on your side from the first instance of you bringing up that you wanted to be credited for your work, or if he hadn’t kept quiet about his opposite, selfish opinion this long and forwards.

Your sleeping body shifts, arms tightening around his waist. Jimin can’t help the little smile, wishing he had the same outlook as you just so it wouldn’t be the last night of you being practically his. Jimin’s lips find your peaceful forehead in a warm kiss, saying a whisper that he doubts he’ll ever get to say again, “I love you.”

if you enjoy please, please let me know! i hope you enjoy the series, i’m working really hard on it! : ) also don’t drag me for the smut in this chapter it may or may not be good idk im worried lmaoadsjfgk

tag list (send an ask to be added): @jaiuneamesolitaiire​ @tsvkino-usagi​​

[side-effect-of-the-meds]

Whenever you can, can you write some Andrew bad mental health days angst with Nicky trying to help single-handedly? Maybe while the twins were living with him? With a hopeful ending of course. More importantly I wanted to ask if you’re alright? Your last post was worrying.

So I’m doing a lot better now. It’s just that sometimes I feel like my parents treat loving me like it’s a chore and neither of them really want to do it. They also just remind me all the time about how hard it is to love me and implying that my theoretical future husband would leave me over these flaws. I made the mistake once of implying that maybe I should have a wife instead and my mother looked ready to murder me. Which u literally see me project in almost exact words in this piece. Sorry. Anyway.. that’s how my efforts at coming out are going :)) It’s fine tho. I’m going to college in a year which is its own headache. 

Thanks again for your concern and your patience. I hope this is what you were looking for <3

A bone-deep sense of exhaustion had been weighing Nicky down for so long that he almost didn’t notice it anymore. Almost. Dragging himself into the backroom of Eden’s, he felt another wave of it crash over him. 

“Nick,” Roland called. His eyes were wide and his legs were trembling. His lips were swollen and bruised too. A smile curled the edges of Nicky’s lips. Before he could prod Roland about his disheveled appearance, Roland said four words that always sent every thought careening out the window. “Something’s wrong with Drew.”  Shoving him aside, Nicky raced down the hall. From the end of the corridor, he heard labored breathing. 

“Andrew,” he called as he nudged the door open. Nicky felt his stomach plummet at the sight of his cousin curled on the floor. Tears were welling in his eyes. “Hey, man,” he started. 

“Get. Out!” The words tore from Andrew’s throat, low and guttural. Fury was written into every crevice of his face. Nicky stumbled backward, falling onto his butt. The door slammed shut in his face. Crawling up to the door, Nicky lay his head up against it. From behind it, he heard Andrew’s breath coming in ragged gasps. “No. No. Please, no.” Nicky’s heart stuttered. When he’d first met Andrew, he’d made the mistake of saying please. He’d been rewarded with a none too gentle warning about using that word in Andrew’s presence. For Andrew to be saying it now…

“Andrew, let me in,” he begged. 

“No!” Andrew screamed. “Leave me alone.” Tears raced down Nicky’s face. His fingers ached for they’d been clutching tightly to the doorframe. 

“Let me help,” he whispered. This wasn’t the first time this had happened. A week ago, Nicky had been summoned by the school to pick Andrew up early after a similar episode. According to Aaron, it had happened a few times when they’d lived with Tilda too. However, they’d been occurring more frequently since the twins had moved in. Was it something Nicky had done? Had he hurt Andrew? 

Nicky didn’t know how long he sat there, begging softly for Andrew to let him in before the door finally creaked open. Andrew stepped out, dry-eyed. His blank facade had resettled over his face but his eyes were red and puffy. 

“Water,” he croaked. Nicky scrambled to his feet and checked a few of the back rooms until he found some bottled water. Offering it to his cousin, he chewed on the inside of his cheek as Andrew down the whole thing in one go. 

“Andrew,” he pleaded once more. 

“Home,” Andrew ordered. Nicky’s shouldered sagged but he obeyed. Shuffling down the hall, he did his best not to look back at Andrew. He gathered up his jacket from the front before grabbing Aaron. As they walked to the car, Nicky felt a cool breeze blow past. From the corner of his eye, he caught Andrew shivering. Shedding his coat, he waited for Andrew to pass him before throwing it around his shoulders. “I don’t need your shitty jacket,” Andrew snarled. 

“Whoops. Guess you're so small I mistook you for a coat rack.” 

“You’ve got three seconds to start running, Hemmick.” Nicky was running before the words were out of Andrew’s mouth. It was less than three seconds before Nicky heard Andrew’s footsteps pounding the asphalt behind him. 

“That’s cheating,” he cried. “Doesn’t matter, though. My legs are longer anyway.” 

“They won’t be after I break them,” Andrew gasped between breaths. Nicky should have known better than to rile Andrew up. While Nicky was the faster of the two, Andrew had incredible endurance. He didn’t have to outrun Nicky. He just had to wait for Nicky to run out of steam. Hooking a left, Nicky headed for the park. Vaulting over the chain-link barrier, Nicky risked a glance back. Andrew had banked to the right and was now running around the perimeter of the barrier. 

Looking back was a mistake. Nicky tripped over the playground border that. Falling face-first into the mulch, he felt several pieces of it embed themselves into his flesh. 

“Not so fast now, fucker,” Andrew said. For the first time, Nicky saw a smile tug at the edges of Andrew’s smile. It was a sharp, cruel thing but a smile nonetheless. As Andrew’s eyes roved over Nicky’s face, he saw the smile slip away. “You idiot,” he muttered as he grabbed Nicky’s sleeve. Too dumbfounded by the fact that Andrew was touching him, Nicky didn’t protest to being dragged across the park. He still couldn’t find his voice as Andrew shoved him onto a swing and rolled up the sleeves of the coat. 

A first aid kit appeared in Andrew’s hands. Producing a pair of tweezers and antiseptic, Andrew set about picking the mulch from Nicky’s face. All the while, Nicky whined about how much it hurt. It didn’t hurt. He just needed something to fill the silence. Plastering a bandaid over the final cut, Andrew stepped back to inspect his work. 

“I thought you didn’t need my shitty coat,” Nicky said. Andrew looked down as though he were just noticing what he was wearing. With a scowl he shucked it off and threw it in Nicky’s face. Andrew sat down on the swing beside Nicky. For the first time in a while, his legs were long enough to touch the ground. “Hey,” Nicky started. Andrew groaned as though the conversation was already too long. “I know you don’t want to talk but I need to know what I can do to make this easier for you.” 

Silence settled over the pair of them. Just as Nicky was about to give up Andrew answered. “I just need space.” 

“I’ve given you all the space I’ve got. I gave you a room. I gave you the keys to the car. I let you come and go as you please. I know you didn’t ask me to come here. You didn’t ask me to stay but I’m always going to be here. No one else really wants me anyway.” A sad smile settled over Nicky’s face. It was true.

Every person has their own love language. Nicky’s was touch. Growing up, Nicky’s parents hadn’t understood that. No, they’d chosen not to. Loving their child was their duty as parents, nothing more. Luther and Maria treated loving Nicky like a chore, never failing to point out how his every flaw would prohibit him from finding a respectable wife. Well, then maybe he didn’t need a wife. Maybe he needed a husband. 

Telling his parents as much resulted in them pulling away entirely. Any semblance of love that they’d shown him was now gone. Where Maria woke early to make Nicky’s favorite breakfast, he’d begun coming downstairs to a table set for two. Where Luther brought home little things that he’d thought Nicky may have enjoyed, Nicky watched as his father actively shifted his gift-giving to Maria. It knocked Nicky’s self-confidence to a low he’d never thought possible. Suicide was something Nicky had never understood. Why would anyone want to die? Well, what point was there in living if you had no one to live for? 

For as long as Nicky could remember he’d spent his life trying to please his parents. The most he’d ever gotten was a five-second hug for winning a national art contest. Shut out by the only people that had ever meant anything to him, Nicky had spiraled into depression. If it hadn’t been for Dr. Krauss’s push to send him to Germany, Nicky might not be alive today. 

In Germany, Nicky had found love. Not just in Erik but Erik’s family loved him. Erik’s friends loved him. They breathe life back into Nicky and offered him a place to stay. And he’d wanted it. Going back to America, Nicky had been okay with facing his parents’ disappointment because he’d known that it didn’t matter. Soon he’d leave Columbia and he’d never look back. Everything was finally going to be okay. And then, Nicky’s world turned itself on its head. Learning about the twins had brought all of Nicky’s plans to a grinding halt. 

Nicky knew what living with Luther was like. There was no way he was going to force Aaron and Andrew to brave all of that alone. Germany meant so much to Nicky because he’d been greeted with open arms. The Klose's didn’t love one single aspect of Nicky. They loved him as a whole and Nicky hadn’t had to fight for an ounce of their affection. 

The twins were broken and battered and bruised, just as Nicky had been. Luther and Maria weren’t going to welcome them into their home with open arms. Nicky doubted anyone would. There wasn’t anything that Nicky had learned from his father that he’d truly taken to heart, save one: there’s always someone that needs saving. Sure, Luther had meant converting people to Christianity but, from the moment Nicky lay his eyes upon the twins, he knew that no one in the world needed saving more than them. 

Nicky didn’t know how to fix them (or even if they could be fixed at all) but he’d take care of them until he found someone that could. He didn’t know how long it would take for them to each find their own Germany, but he was more than willing to stick around until they did. 

“I do,” Andrew said. Nicky looked up to find Andrew’s eyes already on him. 

“You what?” Nicky’s voice broke halfway. 

“I want you to stay.”