#as you break through the screen you’ll watch your own self crumble with it

[saltytearsofjoy]

mmm afo with TV motifs

[sherewrytes]

𝔹𝕣𝕠𝕜𝕖𝕟 ℙ𝕚𝕖𝕔𝕖𝕤, ℝ𝕪𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟 𝕊𝕦𝕜𝕦𝕟𝕒 3

↳ Sukuna x f! black reader

Summary: After the death of his grandfather, Sukuna Ryomen is left to shoulder the weight of his family, caring for his younger brothers, Yuuji and Choso. As he withdraws into grief, his relationship with Y/N, his girlfriend of a year, begins to crumble. When Y/N discovers the truth about his grandfather’s passing during a heated argument, it leads to a painful breakup. Now, both are navigating life apart, but Sukuna’s heart aches for Y/N. Determined to win her back, he must confront his pain and find a way to break through the walls he’s built. Can he rekindle their love, or is it too late?

contents: heavy angst, modern au, 18+, smut, dark romance, drug use, talks of depression and similar topics. (a lil )

fic warnings. ooc, profanity, mental health issues, toxic relationships, cheating, explicit smut, serious drug use, mentions of depression + more to be updated as story progresses.

Please read with proper discretion. this is a work of fiction. all characters are written to portray roles that are necessary to the plot and are in no way a reflection of their canon counterparts.

Taglist: @for-hearthand-home @clp-84 @thelightknight21 @favvkiki 

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Fic Playlist

Song for this chapter: Happy Little Pill Troye Sivan

You can listen to the songs mentioned to the fic in order if you desire

Chapter Playlist

Masterlist

Previous

Chapter 3: Happy Little Pill

I finally made it home, my head still spinning from the earlier with yn…

Or is it the pills…or the weed…fuck weed brain is shit sometimes

 I yank the boxes out of the back seat before heading up to my apartment. When I step inside, the smell of pizza and the low hum of video game music hits me—Yuuji’s still awake, sitting with Choso and Toji, all of them glued to the screen, battling it out on Sparkling Zero, the latest Dragon Ball Z game. Toji just mutters, "Hey, you’re back," barely glancing away from the game.

I drop the boxes by the door with a loud thud, and that’s when everyone turns around, their eyes flicking from the boxes to me, waiting, maybe expecting something. The room falls into an uncomfortable silence, thick enough to choke on. Yuuji tosses the controller to Toji, then mumbles something about heading to bed.

But I’m already on edge, the tension buzzing under my skin like electricity. "It’s fine," I snap, waving a hand dismissively. "You don’t fucking listen anyway, so do whatever you want."

Choso stands up, his expression turning cold. “Don’t take your shit out on him,” he says, his voice steady but sharp enough to cut through the room.

I run a hand through my hair, feeling the heat of frustration bubbling up inside me. "I’m not taking anything out on him," I snap, my voice sharper than I intended. "Just tired of dealing with everyone's bullshit."

Toji rolls his eyes, casually leaning back on the couch, his gaze unfazed. "You’re the one who decided to get into it with Y/N, man. You think it’s easy for any of us to watch you self-destruct?"

I glare at him, anger flaring. "You don’t know shit, Toji. You think you understand what I’m going through?"

Choso shakes his head, shooting me a warning look. "Stop. Just stop. You’re being an asshole for no reason. You don’t have to take your problems out on us."

I scoff, the tension in the room thickening. "Whatever. Just mind your own business." I storm toward the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, desperately trying to cool down the fire inside me.

Toji follows, the sound of his footsteps echoing behind me. "Look, man, you’re not going to be able to keep pushing everyone away forever. Sooner or later, you’ll have to deal with this."

I slam the fridge door shut, turning to face him. "What do you want me to say? That she left me? That I can’t fix this?" The bitterness spills from my mouth, and I hate how raw my emotions feel.

Toji crosses his arms, his expression serious. "I just want you to stop acting like you’re fine when you’re clearly not. You think shutting everyone out is going to help? You need to talk to someone."

"And what? You think spilling my guts to you guys is going to solve anything?" I retort, clenching my fists. "You think I want pity?"

"It's not about pity, Sukuna!" Toji's voice raises slightly, frustration evident in his tone. "It’s about support. You need it, whether you want to admit it or not."

I open my mouth to fire back, but the weight of exhaustion settles over me like a heavy blanket. "I don’t want to talk," I finally say, my voice quieter. "I just want to be left alone."

"You’re not alone, man," Choso pipes in, his voice steady. "We’re here for you, whether you like it or not."

I feel the tightness in my chest ease ever so slightly at their words, but

 I can’t let them in. Not now. Not after everything.

I shake my head, turning away from them, focusing on the dull ache of my thoughts instead.

"Fine," I mutter, dragging my boxes back toward my room. "Just keep playing your game or whatever."

I hear Choso mutter something under his breath, but I don’t bother to listen. I slam my bedroom door shut behind me, the sound echoing in the small space.

As I drop the boxes on the floor, I feel the familiar sting of tears welling up in my eyes.

 I don’t want to feel this way; I don’t want to feel anything at all. 

I sink onto my bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to clear my mind.

You should’ve fought harder, 

I think bitterly.

You should’ve fought for her.

But I didn’t. I let my anger and my fear push her away, and now I’m left with nothing but regret and the suffocating silence of my empty apartment.

I sit alone in my room, and for once, I let the tears fall. I don’t even try to stop them.

(I really fucking lost her…) 

The thought hits like a punch to the gut. 

(Fuck…)

Anger flares up, raw and bitter, and I lash out,coming off the bed, I kick one of the boxes on the floor. I hear something shatter inside. My jaw clenches, but my hands shake as I grab the box cutter from my dresser and slice open the top.

Inside are picture frames, one after another, all of them hers—the memories she kept. The photos glare back at me like a silent accusation. Shots of us laughing together, looking like nothing else mattered. Pictures of me, her, and Grandpa, his arm slung around us both like he was holding everything together. Photos of us with Yuuji and Choso, a messy, mismatched family that once felt unbreakable.

My chest feels like it’s caving in, a hollow ache where there used to be something real. Each picture is a reminder, a slap to the face of everything I’ve fucked up, everything I’ve lost. And somehow, seeing them all here, in these broken frames… it just makes it hurt worse.

I can’t look at these. I shouldn’t have opened this box. The photos are mocking me, each one a reminder of what I had and lost. I feel the heat of tears streaming down my face as I sift through the frames, memories flooding back in vivid detail.

Look at how happy we were,

I think bitterly.

What a fucking joke.

I picked up a picture of us at the beach, laughing and splashing water at each other. Y/N’s smile is bright, her hair blowing in the wind, and I remember how carefree we felt that day. The sun had been shining, the waves crashing, and we’d promised to always have days like that.

And now look at us, 

I think, rage mixing with sorrow in my chest. I toss the frame back into the box, and it clatters against the others. I can’t handle it.

I grab another one, this one of me, Y/N, and Grandpa at a family barbecue. Grandpa had his arm slung over my shoulder, and Y/N stood beside me, her hand on my back. We’d both been laughing at one of Grandpa's terrible jokes. That was before everything went to shit.

God, I miss him.

I slam the box shut, my heart racing with anger and pain. I run my hand over my face, trying to wipe away the tears, but it only makes it worse. I can’t breathe, the weight of my emotions crashing down on me. I want to scream, to throw something, to destroy everything in this room.

What have I done?

I pull my phone out, staring at the screen. I know I shouldn’t reach out to her, but the urge is overwhelming. I need her. I need to fix this, but I don’t even know how. I type out a message and then delete it.

No, don’t do that.

But the next moment, I find myself typing again, my fingers trembling.

Y/N, I’m sorry. Can we talk?

I hit send before I can think twice. The seconds stretch into eternity as I wait for a reply, my heart pounding in my chest. I want to pace, to throw my phone against the wall, to do anything but sit here and wait.

I’m still staring at the screen when i just see

Seen.

Just like that, my heart sinks again. She saw it and chose not to respond.

What the hell am I doing?

I toss the phone onto my bed, unable to look at it anymore. I want to forget. I want to drown myself in anything other than this ache. I lean back against the wall, trying to shut out the world.

But the memories don’t stop. They flooded in—her laughter, the way she looked at me, how her presence made everything feel right, even when it was wrong. I bury my face in my hands, letting the sobs wrack my body.

I really fucked this up..

I reach out without thinking, fingers brushing over the blunt I left on my nightstand earlier. It’s routine by now—something to take the edge off, to quiet everything that won’t shut up inside my head. I flick the lighter, watching the flame for a second before lighting up and taking a slow drag, feeling the burn in my lungs, hoping it'll numb something deeper.

(Alexa, play "Can You Feel My Heart" by Bring Me The Horizon.)

The music fills the silence, heavy and raw, matching the ache that I can’t shake. I let the lyrics drown me, let the weed fog my mind. It’s not enough, but it’s all I have right now—anything to dull the pain clawing its way through me.

The familiar sounds of Bring Me The Horizon fill the room, the heavy beats pulsing through my chest like a heartbeat. I take a deep drag from the blunt, the smoke swirling in the dim light as I close my eyes.

“Can you feel my heart?” The lyrics resonate with my inner turmoil, echoing the chaos that has taken over my mind. I let the smoke seep deep into my lungs, holding it for a moment before exhaling slowly, watching as the gray haze drifts away.

Inhale.

 Exhale.

I lose myself in the music, letting it drown out the noise of my thoughts, the weight of my failures. I let the smoke fill my lungs and the melody fill my heart. Each note hits me like a wave, and for a brief moment, the pain feels a little lighter, the memories slightly dulled.

What the hell have I done?

 I can’t shake the feeling of regret. I never wanted to push Y/N away, but it feels like I’ve done exactly that. I take another drag, the high creeping in, the world blurring around the edges.

It shouldn’t have come to this. I think of her face, the way her eyes glistened with tears, how it tore me apart inside to see her hurt.

“Can you save my bastard soul? Will you wait for me? I'm sorry, brothers, so sorry, lover”

 I can’t help but think how fitting the lyrics are. The smoke wraps around me like a shroud, and I lean back against the wall in my room again, letting the music take over, hoping it will drown out the memories of Y/N’s hurt expression, the way she told me to leave.

As the chorus builds, I feel the weight of everything crashing down again, but I can't fight it anymore. I take another hit of the blunt, needing more, wanting to escape this reality even for a little while longer.

I don’t want to be broken anymore. I just want her back.

I let the sound wash over me, the pain turning into a low hum, my thoughts drifting into a haze. I lose track of time as the world around me fades, and all that’s left is the music and the smoke.

Just for tonight, I don’t want to think about anything else.

The lyrics echo in my mind, each line digging deeper into the pit in my stomach. I take another drag from the joint, the smoke swirling around me like my thoughts—chaotic and tangled.

“I hate being alone.” The words hit hard. I can feel the weight of the silence in my room, a stark contrast to the warmth of Y/N’s laughter, the softness of her touch. 

Why did I mess up such a good thing? 

I can’t stop replaying every moment, every fight, and every chance I had to fix things before they spiraled out of control.

“I long for that feeling to not feel at all.”

 I sigh, frustration bubbling up as I wipe my eyes. I should’ve known better than to think sleeping with her would make everything okay.

 It was reckless, and now I’m left with the consequences. I smack my forehead, as if punishing myself will somehow erase the pain.

“The higher I get, the lower I'll sink.”

 I can feel the truth in that line. Every hit I take feels like a momentary escape, but I know it won’t last. 

It’s a band-aid on a gaping wound, and soon enough, the high will wear off, leaving me with the raw, gnawing emptiness inside.

“I can't drown my demons, they know how to swim.” 

My heart aches with that realization. The weight of my past mistakes, the loss of my grandfather, and now the chasm Y/N has left behind—those demons are relentless. They’re always there, lurking just beneath the surface, waiting for me to slip.

“What comes after the numb feeling inside?”

 I wonder, my mind racing. Will I ever feel whole again? Or will this ache follow me, a constant reminder of what I’ve lost? What if I’m destined to feel this way for the rest of my life?

I take another deep drag, letting the smoke fill my lungs, hoping it will cloud my thoughts, if only for a moment longer. But deep down, I know the truth: this isn’t a solution. I can’t hide from my feelings, and I can’t run from the mess I’ve made.

“God, Y/N... what have I done?”

 The whisper escapes my lips, thick with regret. I set the joint down and lean back against the wall, letting the tears fall as I stare up at the ceiling, wishing for anything to take this pain away.

The tears keep coming, harder and faster. My throat tightens, and I start to cough, choking on the mix of tears and smoke.

Fuck this shit.

I force myself up out of my room and head back to the living room. Toji, Choso, and Yuuji are still there, glued to the game, the sounds of explosions and cheers filling the room. And then I see Gojo and Geto have shown up too, looking comfortable like they belong here.

Gojo glances over, his eyes narrowing with that same look he always gives me, and holds out a beer. I stare at it, then at him. The whole scene feels off, like I’m watching from somewhere else, too hollowed out to take any of it in.

Without a word, I turn around and head back to my room, shutting the door behind me.

 I can’t do this right now…

I could feel their eyes on me as I turned away, the laughter and chatter of the group fading into the background. It was like I was stuck in a bubble, cut off from the warmth and camaraderie that usually brought me solace. All I wanted was to escape the reality of my situation, to crawl into a hole and disappear for a while.

I pushed the door to my room shut, blocking out the noise. The moment the door clicked into place, the familiar weight of loneliness settled back in, heavier than before. I sank onto my bed, feeling the fabric dampen with the remnants of my tears. My mind was racing, a storm of guilt and despair swirling around, leaving no room for clarity.

“Fuck this shit,” 

I thought, frustration clawing at my insides. I couldn’t keep running from everything. I needed to face it, to confront the mess I had made with Y/N, with my own damn life.

But how? 

I felt trapped, like I was spiraling into a pit with no way out. I couldn’t even find the words to say what I felt, to explain how I’d let everything fall apart. I reached for my phone, hoping maybe texting Y/N again would help, but hesitated. What would I even say? I didn’t want to make things worse, to push her further away.

After a few moments of staring at the screen, I tossed the phone back onto the bed and buried my face in my hands. It was too much. I needed to think, to breathe, but the reality of my choices suffocated me.

I heard laughter from the living room, a sharp reminder of what I was missing out on. I thought about joining them again, about trying to act normal, but the idea felt like a façade. I was too far gone, too consumed by my own turmoil to pretend.

Instead, I lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, the silence around me becoming deafening. I replayed the last few hours in my mind, trying to pinpoint where it all went wrong. The arguments, the unspoken words, the way Y/N looked at me with hurt and confusion.

I couldn’t escape the haunting thought that I might never fix this. That I might lose her for good.

“What am I supposed to do now?”

 I whispered to the emptiness.

The music shifts to Breaking the Habit by Linkin Park, and I can’t help but let out a bitter laugh. 

(Really?) 

It’s like the universe is mocking me at this point.

I reached for my usual baggie on my night side grabbing a Xanax and popping one then grabbed the weed jar and some paper, rolling it up with shaky hands before lighting it. I inhale, hoping the smoke can fill the cracks that feel like they’re widening with every second. I get off the bed, shuffling over to another box I’d grabbed from Y/N’s place, sitting there like it’s holding all the shit I’m not ready to face.

The smoke curled around me as I took a deep drag from the blunt, trying to drown out the chaos in my head with every inhale, I opened another box, the familiar scent of her lingering, and there it was—the collection of gifts I’d once given her. Little tokens of affection that now felt like chains binding me to my regrets.

“For fuck's sake, Y/N,”

 I muttered to the empty room, frustration spilling over.

The lyrics from the song hit me hard, each line resonating with the turmoil I felt inside. I could see it all clearly now—the moments where I’d let my anger and pride get in the way, where I hadn’t fought for her when it mattered most. “I’ll never fight again. And this is how it ends.” Those words echoed in my mind, a haunting reminder of how I’d allowed things to deteriorate.

I pulled out a small barely gift-wrapped box, the paper slightly crumpled and torn but still intact. I remembered the day I’d given it to her—her face lighting up with that genuine smile that had always made my heart skip. 

This was supposed to mean something.

 I thought bitterly, a part of me wishing I could go back and change everything.

The song shifted again, the chorus cutting through my haze: 

“I don’t know how I got this way. I’ll never be alright.” 

And it wasn’t. Nothing felt right anymore. I was stuck in this cycle of self-loathing and despair, unable to find a way out.

I flicked the ash off the blunt, my mind racing. The gifts, the memories—they were reminders of what I’d lost. Of the love I’d let slip through my fingers.

“What have I done?” 

I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. The question hung in the air, unanswered, as I took another hit. I couldn’t stop thinking about Y/N, about the way she’d looked at me, the tears in her eyes when she shoved me away.

It felt like I was breaking apart, piece by piece, the walls closing in around me. I needed to fix this. I needed to fight for her, to tell her everything I felt, but I didn’t even know where to start. The thought of reaching out filled me with dread, but the idea of letting her go was even worse.

The low hum of Breaking the Habit by Linkin Park fades out, leaving an unsettling silence in the room. My mind is buzzing, the weight of the decision pressing down on me like a thousand bricks. I’ve had enough of this shit, this constant escape, this haze. I sit on the floor, my back against the bed, eyes glued to the messy room around me.

The space feels suffocating, but I can’t bring myself to leave it. The air is thick with the scent of smoke, remnants of the last few hours. My hands shake slightly, and I’m light-headed, the high of the weed still lingering, but I know I’ve pushed it too far. I get up slowly, like the effort of moving is too much, but I do it anyway. The room sways a little as I make my way to the dresser.

The song switches. Coming Down by The Weeknd starts to play, its haunting melody creeping in like a shadow. I barely register it at first.

All alone All Alone All Alone. 

The intro, a reminder of my current life

The lyrics, though—

"I always want you when I’m coming down"—hit me hard, and I freeze in place. That’s exactly how I feel. Always coming down, always needing something when it fades.

I shift through my drawer, fingers trembling as I search for something—anything—that’ll take the edge off, ease the tension I’ve let build up in my chest. I don’t know how many Xanax I’ve already had. Maybe two, maybe more. I can't remember. My brain is foggy, but I don’t care. I find it—morphine. A small pill, white and unassuming. It promises relief.

I sit back down, back on the floor in front of my bed. The ashtray beside me catches my eye. 

When the fuck did I put that there? 

My thoughts are clouded, slipping through my fingers like water, but I feel the weight of that question. I stare at it, trying to piece together the memory of how it ended up there. But there’s no answer. Only silence, only the constant beat of the song, and the gnawing need for something to make it all stop.

I pop the morphine in my mouth, feeling it dissolve on my tongue as I lay my head back against the bed, eyes closed. My body sighs, the tension slowly draining, but it’s never enough. It’s never enough to make the hurt go away.

I reach for my stash, hands moving instinctively, and the thought comes to me, sharp and clear: 

Fuck it, Imma roll up another. It's that kinda night.

The lyrics echo through my head: “I always want you when I'm coming down,” and I let the weight of them wash over me. Always coming down. Always wanting something to fill the emptiness.

I roll the joint with mechanical precision, the familiar motion grounding me. The smoke, when it hits my lungs, feels like a friend. A constant. But the moment is fleeting. Always is.

I light it up, the flame flickering before the burn settles, and I take a deep drag. The world narrows down to the haze around me, but I’m still here, still broken in pieces, caught between wanting more and wanting to forget.

The smoke curls in the air, the room hazy as I exhale, but it doesn’t ease the pressure in my chest. It never does. The thoughts of her—Y/N—are like ghosts, haunting every damn corner of my mind, even when I'm trying to escape. Her voice, those words, echoing louder now in the silence.

Just get out!

Her words. A slap to my face that cuts deeper than any high could numb.

For fuck’s sake,

 even when I’m high, she’s still here, still fucking plaguing me. I can’t seem to shake it, not the anger, not the guilt, not the damn regret. I run a hand through my hair, frustrated, my heart pounding against my ribs. I fucking hate you... I mutter under my breath, the words bitter, a mix of rage and something else I can’t quite place. Something raw, something painful.

I take another hit, the smoke filling my lungs, and with it, that familiar burn, but it doesn't settle the storm inside. It doesn’t make the pain stop. It just makes it quieter, for a moment.

I sit back against the bed, staring at the ceiling, mind swimming in the haze, but one thing is crystal clear.

I miss you.

The thought hits me like a punch in the gut. Hard.

I miss you in ways I can’t even describe. I miss the way your eyes would light up when you laughed, the way you’d challenge me, even when you knew it pissed me off. I miss the way you used to look at me like you understood, like I wasn’t some fucking mess that needed to be fixed.

I wish I could take it back. I wish I hadn’t pushed you away.

But then again, what the fuck do I know about love? What do I know about keeping something good when I’ve spent my life burning everything I touch?

The high isn’t enough to make me forget you. It never is. The lyrics to the song “I always want you when I’m coming down” echo in the back of my mind, but it's not just the high. It's not just the drugs. It's something deeper. Something that keeps pulling at me, even when I don’t want it to.

I can’t escape it. I can’t escape you.

I take another drag, holding it in longer this time, but it doesn’t clear my mind. Nothing ever does. It just makes everything sharper, makes your absence feel even more suffocating.

I reach for my phone, the motion almost automatic, like it’s the only thing I know how to do when I’m drowning in this mess. My fingers hover over the screen for a second, but I press your name anyway. My thumb shakes, the screen lighting up in the dim room as I wait for you to pick up. The song continues, the lyrics hitting me like a goddamn truth:

“Pick up your phone, I’m all alone.”

It’s pathetic, I know. But I just need to hear your voice, even if it’s just for a second. Just to tell myself it wasn’t all a lie. Just to hear you tell me I’m not completely fucked.

But you don’t answer.

The call goes straight to voicemail, and for a second, I just stare at the screen, the silence in the room louder than the song now. My chest tightens. My fingers twitch. I don’t know if it’s anger or something else that crawls up my throat, but I toss the phone back onto the bed like it’s a weight, not caring where it lands. The screen flickers off, and I’m left with nothing but the empty room and the echo of your absence.

Fuck.

I sit there for a moment, just staring at the phone like maybe it’ll ring, like maybe you’ll magically pick up and everything will go back to how it used to be. But it doesn’t. It won’t.

God, I fucking miss you.

Geto walked into my room, his footsteps barely making a sound as he took in the mess. The roach of the blunt was barely glowing, now just a burnt stub, and I had stuff scattered all over the floor—like pieces of my life falling apart in front of me. I was sitting there, slouched against the wall, the ashtray close by, high as hell, trying to ignore everything, but it wasn’t working.

He walked over and handed me a bottle of water, but I didn’t want it. I didn’t want him to look at me, didn’t want anyone to see this version of me. I slapped the bottle away, hearing the thud as it hit the floor, and mumbled, “I don’t need it. I’m fine…”

But I wasn’t. I couldn’t keep the tears from falling. They just kept coming, and I felt like I couldn’t breathe through it.

Geto’s eyes flickered with concern as he took in the scene before him—my room was a disaster, much like my mind. He crouched down, unbothered by the mess, and quietly pushed the bottle back toward me.

“Drink it,” he said softly, his voice steady. “You’re not fine, Sukuna.”

I shook my head, a mix of anger and sadness bubbling inside me. “I said I don’t need it!” I snapped, the words coming out harsher than I intended. But the truth was, I felt anything but fine. The grief was suffocating, a thick fog that clouded my thoughts, and I could feel the tears threatening to spill over again.

“Gran... fuck man, why me?”

 I choked out, my voice cracking as I buried my face in my hands. It felt like I was falling apart, and I didn’t know how to put myself back together.

Geto remained quiet, letting me vent, and I appreciated that. It was rare to find someone willing to sit in the dark with me, someone who didn’t try to fix me but simply allowed me to feel my pain. After a moment, he spoke again, his tone softer.

“You’re not alone in this, you know.”

I scoffed, bitterness creeping into my voice. “It sure as hell feels like it.”

He sighed, moving closer and placing a hand on my shoulder. “You’ve got us. You’ve got me. But you have to let us in. You can’t keep pushing everyone away.”

I lifted my head, meeting his gaze, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of understanding in his eyes. “How can you say that? Look at me!” I gestured around the room, the chaos reflecting the turmoil inside me. “I’m a fucking mess.”

“And that’s okay,” he replied firmly. “We all have our demons. You don’t have to face yours alone.”

His words hung in the air, and I felt a twinge of hope. Maybe I didn’t have to do this by myself. Maybe I could lean on someone for once instead of pretending to be strong all the time.

I took a deep breath, the air catching in my throat. “I don’t want to lose her, Geto.”

He nodded slowly, the gravity of my words settling between us. “Then fight for her. But first, you have to fight for yourself.”

I looked down, my heart racing at the thought. “What if I’ve already lost her?”

“Then you fight harder,” he said, squeezing my shoulder. “You show her that you’re worth it. That you can be better. That you want to be better.”

I stared at the floor, uncertainty swirling in my chest. It was terrifying to think about confronting Y/N again, especially after everything that had happened. But maybe Geto was right. Maybe I needed to show her that I could change, that I could be the person she needed.

I picked up the water bottle, my fingers trembling slightly as I opened it and took a sip. The cool liquid felt refreshing against my dry throat. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“You can,” Geto insisted, his voice steady. “Just take it one step at a time. Talk to her. Tell her everything. Just be honest.”

I nodded, the thought of being vulnerable both terrifying and exhilarating. “Okay. I’ll try.”

Geto smiled, his expression easing the tightness in my chest just a little. “That’s all I’m asking. Just don’t give up on her or yourself.”

As he stood up, heading to the door, I felt a flicker of determination ignite within me. It wouldn’t be easy but I think I can try

Maybe not I took another swig from the bottle, letting the cool water wash away some of the pain. I pushed myself to my feet, but as soon as I stood, a wave of dizziness washed over me. My vision blurred, and before I could react, my legs buckled beneath me. I hit the floor hard, the world spinning out of control as everything faded to black.

In that moment, all the pain, the grief, the memories—everything that had been weighing me down—vanished into the darkness, leaving me with nothing but silence.

[cowboy-like-mee]

a soulmate who wasn’t meant to be

summary: y/n deals with the aftermath of harry leaving her

warnings: angst af!!!! possible ED tw 

word count: 2k

a/n: i was really sad so i started writing this to try to relieve some of the emotions built up in my body :)))))) 

this is based off the song “a soulmate who wasn’t meant to be” by jess benko. lyrics are spread throughout this in bold and italics so hopefully it isn’t too confusing!!

masterlist

Nothing hurts more than pretending like everything’s okay, when you’re falling apart on the inside. When you want nothing more than to be with your love. Hold him in your arms and give him little kisses whenever you want. Dance around the kitchen and sing songs from your youth.  

Harry. Beautiful Harry. Your boy.

He’s not yours anymore. You have to remind yourself.

You’re miserable without him, but he’s better without you. The pain of being with you was much greater than the thought of leaving you. 

So he left. 

You’ll never forgive yourself. 

Everyday seems to get worse. The days blend together. 

You fall asleep, not sleeping well. You wake up, regretfully, tired from another restless night. The day drags on, never seeming to end. You walk around like a zombie. Daydreaming about going home to the love of your life, instead going home to an empty apartment and an empty fridge.

You can’t bring yourself to eat. You can’t bring yourself to even try to watch TV. You go straight to bed and stare at the ceiling till you eventually fall asleep. And then it repeats. And repeats. Again and again and again. 

You can’t even remember what day it is. You don’t know if you’re supposed to go to work or if you’re off. You wake up anyway. Anything to distract yourself from the never ending cycle of numbness and loneliness. Self loathing and empty stomachs. The nagging feeling in the back of your mind telling you things could have been different.

Maybe if you had done things a little different. Maybe if you had smiled a little more. Laughed at a few more of his jokes or hugged him a little bit tighter. Maybe if you had started accepting his offer to go on walks with him. Or watched a few more movies with him.

 If you could go back you would never say no to anything he requested. 

You would gladly sit through any of the god awful romantic comedies he’s obsessed with. Or drink the terrible black coffee he has every morning. 

But no. Things change and people change. You drifted apart. You’ll never have him again. The giggles and late night love making. Him singing you to sleep or washing each other’s hair in the shower. 

Sobs wrack your body for the first time in months. You hadn’t cried like this since the day he left. The memories seep back into your conscious, haunting you.

His bright green eyes flash behind your eyelids. His voice is ringing through your ears. You can feel his lips on your neck and his hands wrapped around your body. 

You stand up, shaking your head and pulling at the roots of your hair. Trying to rip the memories straight out of your brain. You’ve never felt this kind of pain. Pure anguish. The reality finally setting in that he’s gone.

He had finally had enough of you. What he once loved and adored, he loathed.

He was far too gone once you realized. You were far too selfish to realize the man you love was slowly falling out of love with you.  

“Y/N?” He had called your name gently.

“Hm?” You hummed, not looking up from your phone where you had been texting your friend for the last half an hour. 

He took a deep breath, trying not to snap. “Can we talk?”

This got your attention. You looked up, brows furrowed, and set your phone down on the couch. “What?”

“I-I...I think we should take a break.

Your heart dropped to your stomach. 

“Wh-what?” You whispered, feeling tear prick your eyes.

“I...want to take a break from each other.”

You stared at the man sitting in front of you. You noticed how different he looked from the man you fell in love with. He looked sad. He looked exhausted. You didn’t know at the time it was because of you. You thought maybe he was having a rough time with himself. But now it’s crystal clear.

 You changed. You weren’t the same woman he fell in love with. You two barely went on dates. You hadn’t had sex in months. You two hadn’t even been going to bed together. You would always go to bed first. He would sit in the living room, crying over his broken relationship. He would eventually crawl into bed, laying as far from you as possible. You hadn’t even noticed, being too caught up in your own life, not noticing your boyfriend slowly crumbling apart in front of your eyes.

So you agreed. You agreed to take a break from each other for two months. You wouldn’t date anybody or sleep with anyone, but you two had to stay apart from each other. It was easier for him than he hoped. He felt like he had freedom. He felt like he could breathe finally, not suffocating in his own home.

You had a different experience. You never realized how much you relied on him. The dishes piled up and your laundry was never washed. The fridge never got full of groceries at the beginning of the week. You had no one to cook you dinner or ask how you looked in a certain outfit. You missed him.

The two months was almost over and you had already planned out everything you were going to say. Your apology and your speech on how much you appreciated and loved him. You knew you fucked up and you knew you had to own up to your mistakes. Your negligence to him.

And then you got the call.  

Stranger, that's all I see

The piercing sound of your phone ringing cut through the silence of the apartment. You jumped in your spot on the couch, where you were folding your clothes. 

When I look into your eyes

Harry’s contact flashed across the screen. You didn't know if you should feel relieved or terrified. Did he finally have enough of this break and was ready to come running into your open arms? 

You hesitantly slid across the bottom of the screen to answer.

“Harry?” 

He cleared his throat. “Hey, Y/N.”

“Hey, I’ve missed you so much, Harry.”

He winced at the sentence, his eyes already beginning to water and his throat feeling tight. “Listen,  Y/N. I have something to tell you.”

A soulmate who wasn't meant to be

Your heart stops beating at the tone of his voice. “Okay...”

You heard his breathing over the line for a few heartbeats before he finally spit it out, “I’m moving back home.”

Your heart leaped put of your chest. “Harry! I’m so happy. I can’t wait to see you. I’ve reorganized a lot of our place. I’ve had a lot of free time-”

“No, Y/N. I’m moving back to England.” He cut you off. 

Your mouth hung open. A lump immediately formed in your throat. You attempted to swallow it down. “Oh.” You let out shakily, trying to hide the sound of the trembling in your voice.

“Yeah.”

You both sat in silence for a minute, not knowing what to say.

“So, when are you coming back?”

He tried to refrain from rolling his eyes. You were always so stubborn, and that was one of the things he used to love about you.

He sighed loudly, “I’m not coming back.”

“Are-are you breaking up with me, H?”

He squeezed his eye shut and shook his head. No matter how bad you are for him, he still loved you, and it still fucking hurts to do this. 

“Yes, Y/N. I’m breaking up with you.” He said as steadily as he could manage.

Stranger, who knows all my secrets

You covered your mouth with your hand to stifle the cries leaving your body. “I can’t believe you’re breaking up with me over the phone!” You yelled into the phone, unable to control your emotions any longer.

“We haven’t seen each other in months, Y/N! You should’ve known this was gonna happen eventually!”

“I thought this break was supposed to make us come out stronger, not tear us apart!”

“We’ve been torn apart for a lot longer than you think.”

You didn’t know how to reply. He was right. You just never realized it. He had been feeling this way for a long time. This was inevitable. 

“I’m so sorry, Harry. This is all my fault. I love you so much. You’re the only thing that holds me together. I know I fucked up and I ruined our relationship and everything good we had. Please, please, please, don’t do this. I'll do anything for another chance. We can take it slow. Anything. I can’t lose you, baby. You’re the love of my life. My light.”

He shakes his head and blinks away the tear threatening to spill over. “Y/N, no. I can’t keep doing this. We haven't been good for a long time. I‘m broken. I can’t keep going in circles. I need time for myself. We’ll find other people. I love you and I’ll always love you, but I can’t be with you anymore.”

You cried harder at his words. Nothing hurts more than knowing he’s leaving because you hurt him so bad. He still loves you.

The thought of Harry loving anyone else fucking hurts. The thought of him kissing another person and giving them the secret touches you used to share. You’re breathing is shallow and quick, sobs wracking your body.

“H, please. I-I can’t-”

“Goodbye, Y/N. Maybe one day in the future we can talk again, but I have to go. You’ll be okay.” He hung up. 

Can pull me apart and break my heart

You immediately tried to call him back, ready to plead with him to try again with you. 

The call didn’t go through. He blocked your number. You threw your phone across the room, hearing the glass shatter as it hit the wall then the ground. You dropped to the ground, loud cried of misery leaving your body. 

It went on like this for days, weeks. You eventually had nothing left to cry. Your mind going numb. Everything reminded you of him. His smell lingering in your once shared apartment. The stuff he ever bothered picking up still sitting around your apartment. Even looking at yourself in the mirror reminds you of him. The way he would compliment very feature on your face, making you develop the confidence he had instilled in you.

All of that leads to now. 

The empty apartment and the grumbling stomach. You can’t remember the last time you had a proper meal. Nothing wanting to stay down. 

So there you sit. In your empty home. Surrounded by long lost memories of the love you once shared with Harry. Your heart shattered into a million pieces. Feeling uncapable of ever loving again. Thinking of your lost love, thousands of miles away. Missing a piece of your soul, never to be replaced again. 

But you’ll be okay. He said you would be. 

A soulmate who wasn't meant to be

pt 2

[mysingularitybts]

I miss you || K. NJ

Pairing: Idol! Namjoon x reader

Genre: romance, slight angst, smut  

Word Count: ~5k

Warnings: handjob, fingering, oral (female and male receiving), unprotected sex (please wear protection), multiple orgasms

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Wake up. Have a quick breakfast. Get dressed. Go to my classes. Have lunch. More classes. Have dinner. Study. Have a shower. Go to bed. Repeat.

It seems like it's the only thing I've done in the past few months. My life has become an endless cycle and I am so tired of it. I wish I could stop, but my education depends on it. I can't just stop or, everything I have worked for will be for nothing.

At least when my boyfriend Namjoon was here he'd help me get out of my routine and helped me distract myself, but now that he's on tour I'm left alone with no one to stop me.

For the past couple of months my mental state has been deteriorating. I feel it every time those negative thoughts come into my mind and make me doubt myself. I don't bring it up to him for a few reasons. One, the thoughts leave after a few hours. Two, I don't want to worry him. He already feels guilty that he leaves me for such long periods of time I don't want to give him any more reasons to feel that way. He shouldn't even feel guilty, it's just my mind being a bitch.

I'm usually not a sad person, but everyone has those days where everything seems to go wrong. It's those days that thoughts of self doubt and wondering if I am good enough attack. I cry a little or a lot, go to bed and when I wake up I'm all good.

My pockets of sunshine come when Namjoon calls me. I could spend hours just listening to him talk about all the things he's been doing, about the fans he has encountered, how the show was, new equipment he got, etc.

He would smile, eyes crinkling, his dimple would show as he'd talk animatedly. I'd let him get everything off his chest and smile along with him. But then, he'd ask how my day was and it's always the same answer, nothing exciting happens in my life. On a normal day the most exciting thing could be that I got takeout. He would still listen and smile and tell me how proud he was that I was following my dream and doing good in school.

I know his life isn't perfect either. As the leader, he tends to doubt himself too, and be under a lot of stress. I'd be there to help him through it no questions asked. I'd give him as much advice as possible, listen to him, and reassure him.

So, why was it that I found it so hard to open myself up to him when I was sad? I've thought about this a lot and I guess it's all just me not wanting to be a burden and making people pity me. Which is stupid, yet that's just who I am.

The thing is, this past week has been hell for me. I did not do well on my exam, I am sick, I am missing Namjoon terribly, and I got my period. All of these factors combined have me in a state of mystery and instead of those self-doubting thoughts being for a few hours they've lasted a few days. I've been avoiding talking to Namjoon on the phone 'cause as soon as he hears me he'll know something is wrong. In fact, I think he is already suspecting because of how much I've been avoiding him.

I was cooking some chicken soup for my cold when my laptop began ringing from its place on the counter. Checking who it was I found it was my wonderful boyfriend. Hesitantly, I answered since there was no way I could keep avoiding him.

I turned off the stove and sat on the bar stool of the counter.

"Hey Nam," I greeted him, my stuffy nose, making my voice weird.

"Hi baby, how do you feel today?" he sweetly asked.

"Um, better, I think," I told him, tilting my head.

"You think?" he let out a small laugh.

"Yeah, I still can't taste anything but I have a bit more energy," I explained recalling how I felt yesterday.

"That's good to hear, did you take medicine?" he questioned, narrowing his eyes, knowing my distaste for any type of medicine.

"Yes, sir," I nodded, showing him the medicine on the counter, "How about you, how have you been?"

"I've been good, you know the usual with rehearsal and the concerts," I knew he was holding back he always had more to say.  He was the type of person that didn't exactly talk a lot, but when he told you something he'd tell you all the little details.

"Oh, okay, cool."

"I actually wanted to talk to you about something," he said, not looking at the camera.

"What is it?" I asked, leaning my head against my palm.

"I just feel like you have been avoiding me these past few days," he spoke glancing up at me to gauge my reaction.

"I'm sorry, I just felt really sick and didn't want to worry you," I explained, not looking at the screen.

It was a half truth, there was more to it, but I didn't want him to feel bad about the whole truth.

"That's the thing I don't mind being worried and it worries me even more when you avoid me like that," he insisted, talking directly to the camera. I feel like he was looking directly at me, his gaze traveling hundreds of miles just to focus on me.

"I'm sorry Nam I didn't mean to," I muttered, looking down at the keyboard of the laptop. In the end no matter how much I tried to hide it he still got worried.

"I know baby, but talk to me okay? I'm here," he sweetly reassured me.

Hearing him say those words so tenderly made me break down, I couldn't hold back the tears stinging my eyes, so, I let them fall.

"What's wrong, baby?" he asked, concerned watching me crumble before his eyes.

"Honestly, not much, I just-" I couldn't finish my sentence as a sob racked through me.

"It's okay, let it out," he soothingly spoke.

"That's the thing Nam I miss you so much and I wish you were here to hug me and cuddle me," I cried out, wiping my tears with the sleeves of the hoodie I was wearing.

"This week was the worst I failed that biology test, I got sick, I got my period and all I could think about was how I wished you were here," I sniffled trying to control my breathing.

"Baby I-" he began, but I interrupted him.

"I don't want you to feel bad 'cause you are doing what you love and I'm usually okay and I know what I was getting into when we started dating, but all of the things that happened during the week triggered me."

"What do you mean, you're usually okay?" Namjoon questioned, looking upset.

"Baby?" He asked again at my lack of response.

I hadn't meant to say that.

"Um- you know there are days where I just feel sad and that's okay," I shrugged.

"Sad why?" I know he just wanted to understand what I'm trying to say, he always likes to get the whole spectrum of things.

"I start doubting if I'm good enough. I see what my friends have done and feel like I nearly haven't done anything compared to them," It was hard to say this out loud, yet it was necessary. It was time I spoke to him about it.

"Whenever you start feeling like that don't hesitate to call me, okay?" He lightly chided me.

"Okay..."

"Good 'cause I'll always be here to tell you that you are amazing, everyone does their own things at their own pace and we are all making our way towards different paths, it's okay if you haven't done enough, you can always work on it, there is no rush," he spoke in that wise tone of his.

"You're right," I nodded, giving him a tight lipped smile.

"About the biology test, it's okay, it's just a bump in the road. I know you will keep working hard for the next one, am I right?" He gave me a knowing look.

I laughed, "You're right," he knew me too well. This bad grade would motivate me to do better on the next one, it wasn't the first time that has happened and I always ended up with a good final grade.

"Exactly, and I'm sorry I haven't been there I hadn't realized so much time had passed," he apologized again for the millionth time.

"I don't blame you. I know touring is a lot of work, especially since you've also been doing a lot of promotional work," I reassured him.

"Still, I should have taken some time off, do you forgive me?" he pouted at the camera.

"I forgive you Nam," I giggled.

"Ahh, great I wouldn't have known what to do if you didn't," he dramatically said.

"You'd probably die," I said, rolling my eyes, sniffling.

"That's probably true," he smiled, his dimple showing.

It felt good to finally talk to Namjoon. I definitely missed talking to him during this week from hell. And it felt good to get all of this off my chest too. I felt lighter in a sense. I guess I understood now the importance of talking about it.

Two weeks later I had just finished yet another test and headed home, I took a shower and got comfortable for a weekend of doing nothing, my brain would be grateful for it. I was focused watching a movie when my phone rang.

"Hey Nam," I exclaimed answering the phone.

"Baby! How was your test?" he asked in a cheerful tone.

"I think it was good and I didn't have too many doubts," I cheered.

"That's great, you'll see all that studying will pay off," he reassured.

"Yeah, hopefully," I sighed.

"Can you do me a favor?" he suddenly asked.

"Sure, what is it?" I asked, furrowing my eyebrows. It wasn't often he asked for favors. I didn't mind at all, it was just a little strange.

"Do you think you can go to the dorms and send me pictures of a notebook I left behind, please?" he begged me.

"A notebook?" That was an odd request, although I didn't put it past him to leave something behind.

"Yeah, it has some lyrics and I can't seem to recall them," he explained nervously.

"Oh sure, I'm not doing anything now so I'll go by in a few minutes," I told him.

"Thank you so much baby I gotta go, the boys are calling me," he said in a rush.

"No problem, I love you," I sweetly reminded him.

"I love you more," he breathed out.

This boy is always leaving things behind. He started with a passport and then he began forgetting everything. Like the air pods, I swear every now and then I'd find one in the most random of places.

Getting from my comfortable position on the sofa I put on some white sneakers since I was decent enough with my leggings and hoodie, well, more like Namjoon's but close enough. I drove down to the dorms and made my way inside. I took off my shoes by the door and walked into the living area. It was clean and tidy since somebody always comes to clean and dust the place.

I found it odd that the light was on but didn't think too much about it. Maybe the last person in had left it on, but then I heard a noise down the hallway. I grabbed a nearby blunt object, which just so happened to be an award trophy, and creeped my way further into the hallway.

My mind went into overdrive thinking of the worst. There was a thief in the apartment and I was unlucky enough to be here when it happened. I made sure my steps were silent as I walked. I located the sound to be coming from Namjoon's room. Wow, this thief works fast if he already went through the other three rooms before Nams.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before opening the door. Gathering some courage I slammed the door open and held the trophy in front of me. I heard a man scream which made me scream in return, but nothing else happened. Opening one of my eyes, I saw Namjoon looking at me holding his laugh.

"Wh-What?" I stuttered confused.

"Hi baby," he waved, laughing at me.

"Namjoon?" Is he really here?

"Yeah, who else were you expecting?" he asked, tilting his head, the smile never leaving his lips.

"But- but- you're on tour," I stupidly said, my heart still pounding in my chest.

"I took a few days to come see you," he told me, walking closer to me.

"You idiot you scared the crap out of me," I smacked his chest, which is harder than I remembered. I saw him drop his smile at my aggressive response. What did he expect? He scared me to death. I was ready to die or commit a murder.

"I missed you so much," I promptly exclaimed, and pulled him down by his shirt to smash my lips against his. I captured my lips against his desperate to feel the softness and the taste of him. He eagerly kissed back, pulling me closer by my hips.

"I miss you too," he whispered against my lips once we pulled back just enough to catch our breath.

"Next time just knock on my door or tell me you're here," I softly said, "I almost had a heart attack."

"Still, as dramatic as ever," he laughed, placing his forehead against mine.

"You surprised me, that's all," I tried defending myself.

"Are you going to let me go?" he asked once he noticed I hadn't released my grip on his shirt.

"Not yet, I want to make sure you're really here," I told him, closing my eyes.

"Okay, I ordered some food if you're hungry. It's in the kitchen," He really knew the way to my heart.

"One more minute." It felt nice to be able to breathe him in again and feel his warmth close to me. His hoodies were losing that feeling the more I washed them.

After a nice dinner we sat on the sofa facing each other and talking about what happened last week.

"I was worried about you, you know?" He revealed rubbing his thumb on the back of my hand.

"I'm sorry, I promise I'll never do it again," I promised him, holding out my pinky finger.

"You better," he threatened linking his finger with mine.

He then proceeded to get closer to me, thinking he was going to give me a kiss. I leaned forward and closed my eyes, but he started tickling me aggressively.

"Stop, stop," I yelled, laughing and pushing him away with my feet, but last minute he grabbed them pulled me forward with him making me straddle him.

I giggled, trying to catch my breath as he stared at me with a fond look. We placed out foreheads against each other taking the moment in, Namjoon giving me an Eskimo kiss, which made me giggle like a school girl. It was a moment we desperately needed after many months of being apart.

"Till when are you staying?" I whispered, not really wanting to know the answer.

"Until Sunday night," he responded with a gulp.

"We need to make the most of it then," I murmured, hoping he thought the same.

"I couldn't agree more," Namjoon lowly growled in my ear.

I let out a squeal as Namjoon suddenly stood up making me tighten my grip on his waist. He led us to his room where he then sat down on the edge of the bed. I wrapped my arms around him as he kissed down my neck, stumbling upon the edge of the hoodie he took it off in a swift motion leaving me in my bra. His hands were making contact with my warm skin as he rubbed them up and down my back giving me goosebumps.

I pulled him in again for another kiss, my tongue swiping his lips and slipping past them. He let me have control for a few seconds before shifting and grazing his teeth on my bottom lip, giving it a quick nip before further deepening the kiss.

My hands roamed his covered chest, noticing the difference caused by his new exercise routine. I managed to slip them under his shirt now feeling the softness and the temperature rising.

His hands never stopped touching me. They caressed my body, squeezing my thighs, my ass, my hips. He dragged his nails over my back till they found the clasp of my bra undoing it with ease never missing a beat.

The only thing that could be heard in the room where my needy moans as Namjoon's big hands found their way to my chest and started playing with it. Every squeeze, pinch, and graze drawing out sinful sounds from my mouth. So far his mouth had been muffling my sounds, but soon enough he started dragging them down and licking a trail from my neck, clavicle, down to my perked up buds, drawing them to his mouth. I just held on for dear life, my hands grasping a handful of hair pulling him in even more.

Noticing the grinding of my hips one of his hands made their way down my stomach and stopped at the hem of my leggings playing with it a bit before going under. He traced my slit through the underwear teasing me as I bucked my hips begging for more. Namjoon let out a chuckle at my eagerness. Deciding to give him something to laugh about I placed my hand on his growing bulge cutting his laughter short.

"Why'd you stop laughing?" I mocked him, palming him through his pants.

"Don't be a tease baby," he growled in my ear. His voice alone turning me on even more.

He flipped us over my back hitting the bed, knocking the wind out of me. Namjoon kneeled on the floor, taking off my leggings and underwear at the same time, throwing them somewhere in the room. He grabbed my thighs and pulled me to the edge of the bed where he started kissing the inside of my thighs getting closer and closer to the apex. My breath and heart beat got more erratic as he got closer.

"Namjoon please," I cried at his teasing.

"Why should I, after your teasing?" he asked, his stare challenging.

"Because I lo- love you and missed you- ah- so much," I stuttered out feeling him lightly blow where I needed him most.

"Hm, alright," he purred.

He dove right in his tongue dragging up my soaked folds, his fingers digging into my thighs holding them open. Namjoon stared at me through his lashes not wanting to miss my facial expressions. I looked at him as he did so, hands tightly gripping the bed sheets. I bit my lip, trying to hold back my moans.

Namjoon abruptly stopped, "No-uh baby, I want to hear you, got that?"

"Yes, Namjoon, please," I pleaded like a mantra not wanting him to stop touching me.

This time around, he inserted a finger into my opening as his tongue played with my clit. I let out a squeal at the feeling, very sensitive at the teasing and anticipation.

It was as if my whines urged him more, he went faster lapping up my juices and pumping his finger deep and curling it. I had to stop myself from closing my thighs, not wanting to push Namjoon away. Either way it's not like he'd let me he was drinking me in as if he'd never see water again.

I felt a knot forming in my stomach. Noticing my clenching Namjoon added another finger, speeding up and hitting that special spot. Just before I reached my climax he nipped my bud with his teeth pushing me off the edge.

At the overwhelming surge of pleasure my back arched more than I thought possible, toes curling, eyes closed shut, my mouth open in ecstasy releasing incoherent words. Namjoon eased me down, slowing his movements. Once he felt me relax, he slowly took his fingers out placing them on his plump lips and tasting my release.

I stared at him with hooded eyes catching my breath. That sight alone caused the heat to course through my body again.

With shaky arms I sat up Namjoon standing up in the process. He undressed himself calmly, my eyes focusing on the expanse of his chest and arms as they contracted. He gave a chuckle noticing my staring.

"Enjoying the view?" he questioned as he proceeded to take off his pants.

"Very much so," I shamelessly admitted.

Namjoon leaned against the headboard of the bed, pulling me to him letting me set the pace for now. I straddled his thighs pumping his shaft slowly. He was already hard from the show I had put up his tip leaking pre cum. He had his head leaned back, his chest heaving, but he stopped my hand giving me a warning look.

Feeling ready I placed his tip on my entrance, lowering into him slowly. Once he was completely in I stilled my movements. Namjoon's hands were on my thighs tightening his hold. Deciding to tease him some more I clenched my walls around him a few times, causing him to release a low moan.

He slapped my thigh causing me to jump, "ah!" I whined

"That's it baby move," he growled, "Oh, how I missed you."

I started moving my hips in figure eights loving the feeling of him inside of me. Wanting to be in control Namjoon grabbed my hips stilling my movements and started thrusting into me slowly. I loved the way he was looking at me with lust pooling in his eyes. He was always the gentleman and a sweet, cute guy, but there were moments like this one or when he was on stage where he reminded me how sexy and dominant he could be.

He picked up his pace going harder. I felt him fill me up deliciously, he was hitting the perfect spot causing me to lean forward and grab onto him moaning into his ear. I left some kisses on the side of his neck and ear as I bounced. My soft moans urging him on.

The way he was going my clit was also being stimulated, the sound of his low grunts and moans adding even more to my pleasure. I was sure I wouldn't last much longer.

I would surely have some marks of his hands tomorrow by the way he was gripping me, but I didn't mind and it would be the first time. Since I was still very sensitive it didn't take long for me to cum a second time. Namjoon stilling his movements as I clenched around him.

"Oh baby," he rasped in my ear as my thighs trembled.

He lightly pushed me back from his shoulder and kissed me as I gathered my strength again. I acknowledged he hadn't had his release yet, so, I made him lie down on the bed as I kissed down his neck, I made sure to pay special attention to his chest, it was my new addiction, leaving a few hickeys so he would remember me by. Reaching my destination I noticed his cock was glistening with my release. I grabbed it, pumping it a few times before licking its length. Namjoon tensed his jaw at the action. I did that a few times before placing his head on my mouth. I lightly sucked on it gauging Nam's reactions.

"More baby," he urged me on.

"Your wish is my command," I purred deciding not to tease me since he had been very good to me.

I began working my way down his length, pumping what wasn't in my mouth. After a few tries I had him completely in my mouth and I started bobbing my head. Soon enough I felt Namjoon's hands on my hair setting the pace and thrusting his hips every now and then. He loved to do that and I loved every second of it. It's better than having to guess what he likes.

He didn't take his eyes from my lips taking him in. His eyes narrowed, and his lips swollen from biting on them. He had a blush making its way from his neck onto his face.

One particular moment I gagged my eyes watering, which caused me to constrict my throat. The sight setting him off as he released a particularly loud moan. Not long after he announced he was close.

"Babe, I'm so close, where-uh?" He stuttered out.

"Wherever you like Nam," I told him, releasing him from my mouth.

"Mouth."

Quickly I went back down sucking him and paying attention to the tip as I swiped it with my tongue. Namjoon's hold on my hair loosened as he finished in my mouth and his muscles went slack. I stared at him in the eyes as I swallowed the warm liquid and he couldn't help but to let out a groan at the sight.

I crawled back up to him and he grabbed my face, giving me a sweet slow kiss.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you," I responded back meaning every word.

We laid on top of the covers the AC cooling our hot skin. My head resting on his shoulder as he had an arm around me drawing figures on my side. My arm around his stomach and a leg over his.

"I missed you," he softly spoke.

"I know," I laughed recalling his words from earlier.

"Yah, I'm serious," he whined, but a smile on his face nonetheless.

"I missed you too, Nam," I admitted even though it was not a secret.

"What are you doing after the semester ends?" He questioned, his face nestling into my hair.

"I don't know, visit you?" I said unsure.

The semester ended in about a month and a half and he would still be on tour. I needed to make time count, so what better than to visit him during my vacation.

"Glad we're on the same page," Namjoon told me.

"Of course," I scoffed at his response. He was always the one telling me to visit him.

"I wouldn't have it any other way I can't be apart for this long again," He confessed, hugging my side with the arm wrapped around me.

"Agreed," I told him, giving his chest a peck.

"Nam again?!" I exclaimed, noticing he got excited again.

"I'm sorry baby, but you are irresistible," he laughed pining me under him.

I couldn't help but to laugh along with him as we got ready for round two.

A/N:

This was ot supposed to be smut! okay?! It just evolved and it happened.

Honestly! It was supposed to be sad and about the struggle, but Namjoon sneaked in and I couldn't resist his sexiness.

I have more one-shots in the making including a Florist!Jimin and Emperor/King! Yoongi. 😉

-Nikki Marie 💜

[agerefandom]

> Dirk: Regress

Fandom: Homestuck

Characters: Dirk Strider, mentions of Roxy and Jake

Words: 2,750

Summary: Dirk is an age regressor. (It’s a rough day but it’s easier as a four-year-old.)

Warnings: Isolation, body dysmorphia/dysphoria (unspecified), self-sacrificing ideals, one cuss word, mention of storms. 

(Note: I’ve had a few people notice that I usually write from caregiver perspectives for agere fanfiction! I struggle with putting my experience of regression into words, in a way that I don’t with my caregiver experiences. I still enjoy writing reader-insert fanfiction that deviates from my personal experience of regression, but this is my best attempt at communicating the way that I regress.) 

> Dirk: Regress

Your name is Dirk Strider, and some days it’s not worth claiming that you aren’t lonely.

Filling the hours of a day is routine by this point: there’s reprogramming to be done, and new scripts to be written, and fanfiction that you absolutely don’t post online under miscellaneous pseudonyms. There are fights to win and fights to lose and moments when you just throw yourself into the water and let yourself float there until the sun is too bright against your eyelids.

But some days just refuse to pass. Nothing feels like it’s really happening, and none of your friends answer your messages, and you refuse to message again because that would be desperate. Even with four centuries’ worth of internet videos, it feels like there’s nothing to watch, and the walls are closing in with the endless ocean stretching outside. You should be able to fill this day because it’s only as empty as every other day on this abandoned planet, but somehow time seems incapable of passing.

Today seems to be one of those days, and you’ve retreated to the roof to sit and watch the waves. The sun is too warm, and you’ll probably end up with a painful sunburn, but it’s worth it to be away from the wires and screens that remind you of the work you aren’t doing and the friends who aren’t responding.

For some reason this view always seems to feel new, despite the hundreds of days you’ve spent pacing on this roof, fighting on this roof, bleeding on this roof. Something about the sky’s ever-shifting shades and the way the ocean rolls far beneath you. Something about the seagulls that flutter down from the sky to rest their wings, or maybe the wind in your hair and the way it ruffles your clothes, the closest thing you have to human touch.

You close your eyes and lean your chin on your knees, breathing in ocean air that tastes like salt and smoke. You’ve always assumed that the bad smell is an effect of whatever technology the Batterwitch used to flood the planet, but maybe the air on Earth has always been horrible.

The heat is heavy in the air today, which means there might be a storm brewing. The apartment is always the worst during storms, listening to the rusted supports groaning in the wind and wild waves. Sometimes you wonder if you’ll even make it to the fabled game, or if the ocean will just swallow you one day with none of your friends the wiser.

You feel ready to settle in for an afternoon of grade-A moping, but part of you doesn’t agree. Part of you feels like enjoying the sunlight, or going for a swim. That sounds nice, if you’re being honest, but you doubt that you could enjoy anything today. Part of your mind will always be thinking about the messages you’re waiting for, the hours you have to fill, and the fact that tomorrow will be exactly the same as today, and how will you be able to deal with that when today seems so endless?

That excited part of you is insistent, though. It really wants to run around and play, which is an instinct that seems foreign. You mentally inspect the desire, trying to decide if it’s a sign that you’re finally giving up your tenacious grasp on sanity. The more you pay attention to it, the more tempting it feels. Just let go for a while.

There’s an energy in the desire that moves into your body, replacing the lethargy of moping. Your limbs feel ready for climbing, for swimming, for exploring a ruined world stretching around you that you usually prefer to ignore. Maybe it would be nice, to let whatever off part of you this is take the helm for a while. It feels like it might be already happening, and you’re too tired to fight it off. You let the part of yourself that’s moping curl in on itself, finding a little corner of your mind to continue its lethargic musings.

And then you open your eyes and push yourself to your feet.

---->

Your name is Dirk Strider, you are approximately four years old, and the ocean looks incredibly blue.

You feel silly for all the moping you were doing before, and for wasting such a beautiful day. You really want to take off your clothes and get into the water, but a loud part of your brain won’t stop telling you that jumping from this high up is a really bad idea.

Your brain is stupid. You head down from the roof, slamming the door behind you to show that you’re upset about not getting to jump into the waves. Your shoes are discarded carelessly, shirt and sunglasses and pants dropped along the way. Your body is funny, not quite right and not quite wrong. It stops you for a second, and you poke your stomach, hold up your hands. The fingers are unfamiliar. This is your body, isn’t it? Why doesn’t it feel right?

You shrink away from the thoughts, but the part of your brain that’s enjoying its rest pushes you back into awareness before you can get away. Apparently you’re not allowed to stop being here, so you guess that you might as well enjoy it. Away with the body thoughts! You’re getting distracted from the real goal, which is to be in the nice cool water as soon as possible.

Once you’re free of uncomfortable clothes, you patter down a set of stairs where the walls give way to the rusted internal structure of the apartments that used to be below your home. The stairs stop at a metal platform that you remember constructing, the heat of the blowtorch and the glow of the sparks. The memory fits and it doesn’t fit, so you shrug it away as you swing over the platform onto a ladder that leads down to the water.

Halfway down the ladder you know that you’re close enough to the water that it won’t hurt to jump, so you push yourself away from the ladder and let yourself free-fall.

You hit the water feet-first and it envelops you. You can feel the air bubbles combing through your hair, rippling on the bottoms of your feet, the last bit of the above-water world clinging to you. You let yourself drift until there’s only you and the faint ocean currents pushing around you, peaceful and quiet. You wish you could stay here forever, but you can feel your lungs starting to hurt. You have to kick for a few seconds before you break the surface, sucking in a deep breath as soon as the air touches your face. The sun is too warm, and you stick your tongue out in its direction. Stupid sun.

You swim in the direction of one of the nearest buildings that sticks above the water, enjoying the sound of your legs kicking through the waves. The ocean is mostly calm today, and you can hear the seagulls crying up above you. You navigate your way through the familiar landmarks of rubble and ruin, switching from front crawl to elementary backstroke as your energy rises and falls. Your apartment towers above you, casting a shadow on the water. You think about painting something on the side of it, trying to liven up the plain grey concrete, but that seems like a thought for another day.

It takes a few minutes of swimming to reach the nearest neighboring apartment building, and you pull yourself out of the water onto a shore of concrete.  There isn’t much interesting here, mostly crumbling bricks beginning to reveal the girders underneath. The roof has collapsed in on itself in slabs of concrete that you can pick your way across, avoiding the freshest evidence of seagull passerby. A plant has somehow made its home in one of the sections of brick, some kind of weed with jagged leaves and long tendrils seeking more dirt. One of the birds probably brought it from some faraway patch of land, high enough to avoid the flooding.

You stare at the bright green of its leaves, aware that it must be one of the only living things in the surrounding area. In the end, though, it’s impossible to resist picking it out of the wall, the tendrils clinging desperately to the rough bricks as you separate it from its home.

It’s rubbery in your hands, and you dig your fingernails into the leaves to watch the darker green show up in half-crescents where you tore the skin. You wrap the stem around your fingers, admiring the colour. You think about eating it, moving it towards your mouth, but there’s a mental feeling of someone smacking your hand and you drop the plant with a frown. Your brain is too busy and dumb.

You pick up the plant and move it into a patch of sunlight, hoping that it’ll get eaten by another passing bird. Then its seeds can go somewhere else, maybe even on the roof of your house.

You dive back into the water, daydreaming about having a jungle grow on the roof of your house, the roots becoming part of the apartment walls and the leaves changing colour like you’ve seen in TV shows.

---->

The afternoon passes in a delirious blur of sun and splashing, laughing at your own voice and trying to climb one of the supports of your apartment building before finding the metal too hot from the sun.

Eventually, you pull yourself out of the water and climb up the ladder one rung at a time. You take a last look at the rippling water as you open the door and step into the concrete stairwell up to your apartment.

The inside is dark and cool in contrast to the sun-heated world outside, and you begin to shiver as you make your way into your room. An old towel is in the laundry pile, so you scoop it up and use it to dry yourself off. It smells a little musty, but it does the job fine. The feeling of not-right-not-wrong hits you again as you dry off, and you push it aside more easily this time. Not your problem, and you’re starting to have the feeling that you won’t be here for long. It seems silly to worry about it with the little time you have left.

You get dressed in the nicest clothes you can find: there’s a shirt that seems way too big, and you pull it on before looking at what’s on the front. It’s a silly design with wobbly lines that you can’t put together from upside down, and the shirt hangs almost to your knees. It feels cozy, and you add a pair of boxers to the outfit before deciding it’s good enough for lazing around.

The bed is soft and springy and you settle onto it with a sigh, shoving a pillow into the corner to lean on. The day has been fun, but your shoulders are tired from the swimming and your head hurts from all the sunlight. You snag a pair of sunglasses from the table beside your bed, careful with the points as you fit them onto your face. The world gets darker and you relax, grabbing the nearest soft thing to hold. It’s Hella Jeff in his silly coloured onesie and you laugh at his big eyes, widening your own in an attempt to mimic his expression.

Your tablet is difficult to fish out from under the mattress while you’re sitting on it, and once you turn it on it makes a lot of loud noises at you until you exit the window that was open. My Little Pony is easy to find, and you pull up one of the early episodes before propping the tablet against your feet so that you can watch it while hugging your Hella Jeff plushie and maybe resting your eyes a bit.

You can feel the rest of your brain perking up as soon as the theme song comes on, but it’s your episode to enjoy, so you push everything to the back and sing along with Pinkie Pie, and if you fall asleep before the second episode is over, then there’s no one to tell you it’s too early to sleep and who cares about time anyways.

> Dirk: Wake Up.

You wake up in a tangle of blankets, with your shades half-off and poking into the pillow, and Hella Jeff’s ass in your face. You push him off grumpily and sit up in bed. It’s late, and you fell asleep with the light off, so your room is dark aside from the flashing lights from the various panels scattered on the desks.

You’re hungry, and still groggy from the unexpected nap, and the afternoon feels like a distant dream that could have happened to someone else. You try to prompt that same sense of excitement, the eager curiosity that had taken over for the day, but it feels utterly foreign to your mind. You physically poke yourself, as if that will make the mood re-emerge and take over, but it only makes you very aware that you’re wearing one of your old sleep shirts that you stopped wearing when you were about twelve. You pull it off with an irritated sound, and roll out of bed. Your pounding head demands food and water, and you haven’t checked your messages in seven hours.

The glasses you’re wearing don’t have build-in screens, so you swap them out for another pair once you’ve pulled on a t-shirt that actually fits and shoved some jeans over your boxers. Sure enough, Roxy has finally gotten back to you, and fairly recently.

You start responding to her message as you poke around the cupboards for something that you won’t have to cook. She’s messaged something benign, but you know that she knows that you know that she hasn’t been doing well or she would have messaged back sooner. Hopefully she’s feeling better, but you know from experience that she’s more likely messaging you to start an ill-conceived fight that she can use to rationalize her bad mood and self-isolation.

Having friends is exhausting. You find some packaged ramen and head back to your room, planning to just crush it up and eat it while you finish the episode that you fell asleep half-way through. Roxy is talking again, her words a blur of badly-spelled pink across your vision, and you already feel tired from the conversation. You miss Jake, and how easy he is to please. He won’t be back for another two days, out on some sort of island quest that takes him out of network range. You hope that he’s doing okay out there.

You settle into bed again, sparing a frown at your Hella Jeff plushie as if he was to blame for the entire situation. You hook up your tablet remotely to the TV so that you can properly hear it, and settle in to multitask for the night. This is what you wanted, something outside of yourself to focus on, someone else’s problems to solve, something to fill the hours for you.

But even as you start dissecting the things that Roxy isn’t saying, you find yourself craving that effortless enjoyment you’d felt that afternoon, the way your head had tilted up to the sunlight as if it was a second nature. You have a job to do, to keep everyone on track for a future that only you and Roxy know is waiting. But maybe one day, after everything was over and the game was won, you could take a longer break. Maybe there would be a new world for you to explore, and it would be better than the endless ocean of ruins.

For now, you wrap your arms around yourself and do your best to help Roxy communicate how she’s feeling. Your friends come first, and the future comes later.

[ohmywhump]

Handsome Devil

next / masterlist

Meet Jonah and Vincent!

What started with a little flirt soon becomes the worst experience of Jonah's life... Since this is only the prologue things are still very lighthearted in general, but that will change rather quickly.

cw for this chapter: implied drugging, implied non-con

cw for the story in general: abusive relationship, creepy/intimate whumper, mentions of and actual torture, non-con touching, drugging and references to past drug abuse

@whumperofthetristatearea  you asked me to tag you, so here we go ;)

***

'Double espresso,' the dark haired man ordered, handing over his credit card to the employee without a word of greeting. Pushing his glasses back up his nose, he unfolded the newspaper he was carrying, leaning against the counter while he waited for his order.

'Double espresso?'

He looked up at the barista, annoyed that he even dared to address a regular like him given the fact that he'd ordered the same beverage every morning for more than a year now. To his surprise he saw himself confronted with a handsome young man whose ash brown hair was long enough to almost cover his amber coloured eyes, giving him a tentative smile as he shoved the espresso cup in his direction.

'Enjoy, sir.'

'Oh, hello there... never seen you here before... Jonah,' he purred, inspecting the name tag on the young man's shirt while he emptied the small cup with a single gulp.

'Yeah, erm... I just started working here a few days ago, so...'

'So that means I'll have the pleasure of seeing you again, how convenient! Have a nice day, Jonah,' he said as he put down his cup on the counter, tucked the folded newspaper under his arm and turned towards the exit with a final wink in Jonah's direction.

'Same to you,' the barista mumbled even though the customer had already left, nervously brushing a strand of hair out of his face.

'Don't do that,' a voice behind him stated.

Carol had been doing the dishes, but now she looked up, honest concern showing on her face.

'What do you mean?'

'I know that look. And I'm not going to stand back and watch while you're precipitating into ruin.'

'But I... I didn't do anything wrong, I don't know what you're talking about!'

'That guy? You know him?'

'No?'

'Vincent Dunne, he's a publishing editor and an obnoxious person. Wish he'd get his espresso elsewhere.'

'A publishing editor..,' Jonah mused, turning around towards the door even though it was obvious that the man had long since gone.

'Whoa, Jonah – no. I know exactly what's going on in your crazy little head right now and you will not do that!'

'Oh come on, Carol, you knew from the start that I'd only be working here until I've found something else and that's a chance in a thousand!'

Grabbing him by his shoulders she turned him around, making him face her.

'You don't understand, it's not that I want to keep you from getting a job that matches your abilities, I just don't want you to ask him.'

'Why not?'

'Because he's creepy.'

Jonah couldn't help but laugh.

'And you're crazy, Carol. Now let me through so I can wipe the tables, will you?'

*

'Never thought you'd agree to see me again so soon,' Vincent smiled, taking a sip of his wine.

They were sharing a table in a cosy restaurant by the river, watching the people walking by albeit most of the time only having eyes for each other. It was only the third time they met – if you rated their first encounter at the coffee shop earlier that week as meeting even though they barely talked back then. The second time Vincent had spent his entire lunch break standing on the counter, talking to Jonah while he kept preparing lattes and mocha cookie crumble frappuccinos with non-fat milk and extra syrup for the other customers, flirting blatantly – after that experience, they decided to meet somewhere else where they could talk without being interrupted all the time.

Feeling more confident by now, Jonah started asking questions about Vincent's job, just incidentally mentioning that he was still looking for an occupation that matched his qualification.

'That is?' Vincent asked with raised eyebrows.

'I've got a master's degree in English Literary Studies and Creative Writing.'

'So you're just hanging out with me because you want me to get you a job? I'm shocked! And I already wondered why somebody this young would go on a date with someone my age...'

He made an expression as of utter consternation, then burst into roaring laughter right away.

'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make fun of you, everyone has to start somewhere. We can give it a try if you like?'

'Sure thing, I'd love to!'

Jonah's eyes lit up as if Vincent had already offered him a job, but the other man reminded him to take the whole thing one step at a time.

'You probably shouldn't tell your colleagues just yet, not to be rude, but I'll have to see if you're any good before I can recommend you. Having a master's degree doesn't mean you're any good as an editor.'

'I know, I know! I'm just... I'm so grateful that you'll give me a chance to prove myself!'

'Don't disappoint me, then. Are you working tomorrow?'

'Yes, but only until 5pm, I could come to your office right after that...'

'Hey - slow down. You're certainly not coming to my office right away, it would make me look stupid if I introduced you to the others without testing you first.'

'I'm sorry,' the younger one mumbled, blushing, 'I really don't want to embarrass you.'

'I've got some things to get done tomorrow but I'll pick you up at 6 pm. Wait for me in front of Archway station, will you? You should be able to get there in time.'

'So you live in that area?'

'No.'

After being scolded for his officiousness Jonah didn't know how to resume their chat and just stayed quiet. There were so many questions he wanted to ask, but he didn't want to offend Vincent. Looking up at him shyly, he realised that the dark haired man was watching him with an expression of kindness.

'How can I restore that beautiful smile you sported earlier this evening?'

'I don't know,' Jonah replied, feeling the heat rising in his cheeks again, 'Maybe you could...'

He felt Vincent's lips pressed against his own before he was able to finish his sentence.

'Yes honey, I can...'

*

Vincent showed up at 6 pm sharp, picking up an exhausted looking Jonah who had given his all to arrive at Archway station at the agreed time with his boss holding him up shortly before he wanted to leave the coffee shop and a signal failure on the Northern Line on top of it. They drove around for some time, passing through parts of North London Jonah had never seen before, the only landmark he recognised being Highgate Cemetery. Vincent seemed very focussed on his driving, so he didn't dare to address him, although he was still curious to know where they were going, especially since he couldn't fight the feeling that temporarily they had been heading south again.

The car stopped in front of a detached building that seemed to be made entirely of light wood and glass; Jonah already felt at home before even setting foot into the house.

'So this is were you live,' he muttered, 'I'm impressed.'

'I often work at home, so I prefer having a quiet and calming environment, you know, light colours, natural materials, floor-to-ceiling windows...'

'I really like it.'

'Wait till you see the inside,' he replied with a wink, leading him up to the entrance and into a light-flooded living room, beckoning Jonah to sit down on the vast sofa while he went over to the open-plan kitchen to fetch a bottle of wine and two glasses, pouring his guest and finally himself a drink.

'Cheers!'

They clinked glasses and while Jonah already took a sip of his wine, Vincent got up again, picking up his laptop from a desk in front of the window.

'We're not meeting just for fun, right?' he grinned while switching it on and placing it in front of his guest, 'Though of course we might have some fun later if you don't mind...'

'I don't mind at all,' he smiled back.

'Okay, but still – business before pleasure. I picked a text I worked on a few months ago – you're getting the original version, of course. You can have a try at it while I'm preparing dinner for us, alright?'

'Sure!'

'Shall I get you something else to drink while you're working on it?'

'A glass of water if you don't mind?'

'Of course.'

After he was fitted with everything he needed, Vincent patted his shoulder, gave him an encouraging smile and left for the kitchen.

Curious about what his task would be, Jonah opened the test1 named document and was confronted with a 10-page text. Vincent hadn't told him how long he was expected to work on the script, but he decided to just start right away and see how far he'd get until his host called him for dinner. First of all, he'd read through the text to get a feeling for the author's way of writing.

A few minutes later Jonah leant back, staring at the screen in front of him. What the hell...? Why had Vincent decided to give him something like that to edit? He was really testing him, wasn't he? The poor protagonist really had lots to endure in this text... Jonah sighed. Let's get on with it...

*

Vincent returned about an hour later, two plates in his hands.

'Dinner's ready,' he stated, placing one of them in front of Jonah with a smile on his face while sitting down next to him. 'Are you ready, too?'

'I think so...,' the younger one muttered as if waking from a dream.

'Hey darling, are you okay?'

Vincent leaned over, eyeing him with an expression of utter concern.

'Sure, I'm...'

He cleared his throat, trying to sound like his usual confident self again.

'This just isn't something I read every day – but that's probably why you gave it to me, right? To show me that it's part of the job to edit things you're not comfortable with, too.'

'You're right, that's exactly why I gave this text to you. So you would still want the job now you know what you might be facing?'

'Of course! As if something like that could stop me! After all, it's just fiction, so...'

'Thought you'd say that,' Vincent smiled, 'I'll have a look at what you wrote tomorrow and let you know how I feel about it. Unless there are any questions left?'

'In fact, I do have one question about the text, background story-wise...'

'Go ahead.'

'Why was he locked in a cage?'

'Punishment for disobedience,' Vincent shrugged.

'Nice.'

Smiling at each other to ease the tension, they reached for their plates.

*

'You are trying to make me drunk because you want to seduce me, right...?' Jonah mumbled, clinging to Vincent's neck and kissing his temple for the umpteenth time, still holding his wine glass in one hand while making himself comfortable in the other one's lap.

'Nope,' the older man answered, taking the glass out of his hand and putting it back on the table, 'You've been doing this all by yourself and I am putting an end to this now.'

'What...? Noooo, don't do that, Vince...,' he whined, but he was scooped up nonetheless.

'I thought we could go somewhere else... somewhere more... comfortable...'

Facing each other, they both started to grin at the same time.

'Bedroom?'

'Bedroom.'

Holding the younger one's hand, Vincent lead him up a wooden spiral staircase to the top floor that was set right under the roof, therefore being smaller than the living room downstairs, but appearing very cosy that way. A wide bed with beautifully carved bedposts made of the same light wood as the rest of the house dominated the room. Walking past a low table, Vincent picked up a glass bowl filled with strawberries before sitting down on the bed with his lover.

'Something sweet for my sweet boy?' he asked, offering one of the fruits to him.

Jonah didn't need to be told twice, opening his mouth and finally licking some of the juice off Vincent's fingers.

'You put sugar on them?'

'Life is bitter enough.'

'Mh-mh...'

Lying back, he grabbed for the tie Vincent was still wearing and pulled him down with him.

'You're too far away,' he whispered, snatching a kiss, 'And there are way too many clothes on your body...'

'Look who's talking!' Vincent chuckled, unbuttoning Jonah's shirt. The younger one tried to help, but his partner prevented him from doing so.

'Keep your hands over your head and let me do this while you relax...'

For a few seconds Jonah managed to do as he was told, but since Vincent seemed to have all the time in the world and took ages for every single button, Jonah reached down, intending to get rid of his jeans.

Vincent stopped his movements.

'Didn't I tell you to keep your hands over your head?'

'I've never been a patient person, you know?'

'I'll teach you to be patient, then...' Vincent purred, taking off his tie and getting hold of the younger one's hands, tying them to the bedpost with it.

Jonah moaned in annoyance but didn't object, kind of enjoying the feeling of helplessness while Vincent continued to strip him of his clothes. Still, something seemed off... it was getting harder to concentrate and he started to feel dizzy... he hadn't really drunk that much though, two glasses of wine in total, so this couldn't be the reason. Shifting in his restraints he tried to ease the feeling of lightheadedness, but it just wouldn't go away. Should he tell Vincent? He really didn't want to ruin this perfect evening... leaning back again, he tried to relax. Maybe it was just the excitement, the alcohol only adding up to that. He just had to stay awake, had to... With his vision blurring, he caught one last glance of Vincent, smiling down on him almost maliciously.

'You're mine now', he heard him whisper into his ear before he passed out.

[neocityarchive]

dear dream (ldh) | part 2

Hyuck’s POV

word count: 3.7k

warnings: none

chapter summary: He knew that when he left, he left a huge part of his everyday behind. He knew what he was risking, but he was confident in what he felt about her. And he could only hope she was confident in how she felt about him too.

prev | next | masterlist

Donghyuck was restless. He has been ever since he received a reply from Y/N that morning. He couldn’t stop smiling from the moment his mind registered the name displayed on his phone.

y/n: hyuck…?

y/n: is this real???? are you back??

He smiled too much and too wide that his member Renjun said, “What are you thinking? Stop smiling like that. It’s scaring me,” to which Donghyuck only shook his head and smiled some more.

Today, he was finally going home. After almost eight months of non-stop training and six months of promotion after debut, they finally get to have a week’s worth of well-deserved rest. It took all his self-control to keep himself from opening Y/N’s message that morning, but he figured it was worth the wait.

He had thought about this day more than he was willing to admit. He knew that when he left, he left a huge part of his everyday behind. He knew what he was risking, but he was confident in what he felt about her. And he could only hope she was confident in how she felt about him too.

He and his members parted ways some time that afternoon, promising each other not to enjoy the freedom a bit too much. Their manager proposed to go on a team outing before going back to reality next week. Everyone agreed but nothing’s final yet. Decisions don’t last long within the group, what with almost everyone’s spontaneous personalities.

When he got home, Donghyuck handed his mom a bouquet of flowers that he bought on the way, kissed her on the forehead, then collapsed on his bed. Nothing beats the familiarity of the scent of your own house. He missed the feeling of his bed, the faint sound of cartoons playing on the living room TV, even the occasional nagging from his mother.

After a good three-hour nap, she woke him up for dinner.

“Did you meet with Y/N already?” his mom asked, watching her son eat. She was arranging the flowers he brought home for her on a vase.

Donghyuck shook his head. “Not yet, but I’ll be on my way to her after this.”

She scoffed. “I hope she still knows who you are,” she said jokingly.

“Of course, she does,” he said with the signature smug smile on his face.

“And I hope you still know her, too.”

“I do,” he replied. But for some reason, it made him anxious. After all, it had been eight months. He’d be a fool to think it won’t be challenging to hold out for that long with literally nothing but a memory of what they used to have.

Eight months of not seeing each other, not hearing each other’s voice, not knowing what’s going on with each other’s lives. He didn’t know if her smile is still the same or if he can still find her in the places the two of them used to go to. He didn’t know if the Y/N he left eight months ago is still the Y/N he’s going back to.

“I do.” he said again, this time to convince himself.

“Alright, but go easy on her, honey. A huge part of your lives went by without each other. Change is inevitable.” His mom smiled kindly.

Donghyuck nodded as he put his shoes on, trying to pretend he wasn’t listening well. Something about her words struck him in an odd way. “I’m off to see her. She’s probably at work, but the store’s almost closing so I gotta hurry. Bye, mom.”

“Say hi to her for me,” she said as he closed the door.

He tried to brush the thought off his head, trying not to dwell on it. But his mother’s voice warning him of what might have changed continued to haunt him as he walked around his neighborhood, head bent low. He never really thought of things that way. Selfish, yes, but he always believed what he and you had was strong enough to withstand the distance and the time. He still does because nothing has changed. At least for him.

Stop overthinking, Donghyuck. You’ll ruin a good day, he thought to himself.

So he whipped his phone out and checked Y/N’s message again, opening it this time. He thought hard about what to reply, his mind more focused on the text box than on where he was going that he accidentally bumped into someone and dropped his phone.

“Sorry, excuse me,” the man said, not even bothering to look at Hyuck before walking away.

Donghyuck bent down to retrieve his phone which was lying with the screen flat on the floor. When he clicked on the lock button, the screen illuminated. His lockscreen was a photo of Y/N that he took on the beach. It was only a silhouette, but he could vividly remember the smile on her face when he took it. That was a good day. At least it was good before he broke the news that he had to leave.

“Shit,” he muttered to himself.

He only had this phone for three months and the screen was already cracked. It’s not that bad though, but still. The crack broke through the outline of Y/N’s torso, across her chest. He’d been taking good care of his phone all this time, only to have it broken by some minor inconvenience.

He shook his head once again, determined that nothing can ruin this day. Not even a cracked phone screen or the anxious thoughts pooling in his mind. So he unlocked his phone, ignoring the broken screen, and dialled Y/N’s number as his feet continued to walk aimlessly.

She answered after the fourth ring. Donghyuck sucked in a breath as that all too familiar voice came through the speakers. “...hello?”

He bit back a squeal, trying to swallow back his excitement at the mere sound of her voice. “Y/N? Hi.”

“Hyuck?” she asked. His name fell from her lips so effortlessly, he had to physically grab the front of his shirt just for the sake of having something to hold on to.

Still, he tried not to show he was falling apart. “Who else, silly?” He laughed. “How’s my baby?”

Donghyuck still remembers the effect that nickname has on her. He remembered the first time he said it. The two of them were watching a sad movie in his house together. She was on the verge of crying, but she was trying hard to suppress it. It was still early in the relationship and there were still parts of each other that they didn’t want to show. It didn’t work for her though since Hyuck could feel her shaking. He knew he had to do something.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he asked.

He felt her breath hitch. Her ears turned red and the next thing he knew, her head was buried in his chest, sobbing like crazy. Sometimes, he calls her that just to get a reaction. It works every time. So if it still does the way it used to, then she’s probably crumbling on the other end of the line at the moment.

“Wait, is it really you?” she asked again, her voice breaking into small giggles. Donghyuck couldn’t help but laugh at it, too.

“Yes, idiot. Where are you?”

“I’m… where am I… um, I’m at work. Why? Where are you?” she returned, but he had no intention of answering.

“You’re still at work? But it’s 9,” he said. But deep inside, he was smiling. He’s only a few minutes away from the bookstore. All he had to do is stall you there.

“Yeah, we’re closing soon. Where are you? Are you on a break? Why are you calling now?” Y/N rambled.

“Close it now,” he said, ignoring her questions on purpose. His steps grew faster and faster, excitement and anxiety both flowing in his veins.

“What? Why? My friend is still arranging the shelves.”

“Tell your friend you have to go home,” he said before letting out a breath. He rounded the corner, the familiar sign of the bookstore coming into view.

“What? But the keys are with me. Taeil would be mad if it gets lost,” she reasoned. “What are you even—”

And he arrived. He stopped in front of the store’s window. There she was on her usual spot behind the counter, eyebrows furrowed in slight confusion but her lips were turned up at the corners. Her hair was a bit different from when he last saw her, and she looked more mature than he remembers, but somehow, she was still the same.

Suddenly, all his anxieties dissipated. As far as he’s concerned, right then and right there, she was still the same Y/N from eight months ago. The same Y/N he fell in love with. His Y/N. It made his knees weak and his whole body feel like jelly. Still, he managed to walk towards the door, his legs almost like having a mind of their own.

“Tell him something important came up,” Donghyuck said through the phone, his eyes not leaving his girlfriend as she let out a laugh.

“There’s literally nothing going on in my life right now. What important thing would ‘come up?’—” She snorted. Then all Donghyuck could hear was shuffling through the speakers. “We have a customer. I’ll call you, please pick up later. Imissyou,Iloveyou,byebye.”

He laughed, putting his phone in his pocket as he watched her slowly go lower and lower behind the counter before coming back up again, this time with a calmer, friendly smile. “Hi, how may I help…”

“Hi.” He smiled.

“Hyuck,” she said, voice faltering. “Hi.”

The look on her face was priceless. To say she was surprised was an understatement. Her eyes were glassy, and her cheeks were already stained with a subtle shade of pink. Her mouth hung slightly open, but no sound was coming out. It made Hyuck’s heart do a double somersault, it was all he could do to stop himself from just grabbing her and kissing her right then and there.

Go easy on her, his mom said. And she has never been wrong.

So Hyuck just chuckled. “In case it’s not clear yet, I’m the important thing that came up.”

Y/N blinked, but she didn’t move any further. “You’re… I’m...”

Donghyuck laughed. His plan worked, alright, better than he imagined. He thought she was somehow going to catch onto him at some point, but then he remembered how easily Y/N trusts. He always thought it was something that would eventually lead to her getting hurt, something he felt he needed to protect her from. Seems like that part of her hasn’t changed.

He was about to make his next move when he was interrupted by a weirdly familiar voice.

“Y/N, are you done there? Let’s close up.”

Donghyuck turned to look at who just spoke. His eyes widened. “You…?”

“Oh my God?” the boy said, his lips turning up in a smile.

For a moment, a flash of panic was present in Y/N’s face. Donghyuck saw it. But she composed herself just as fast. She cleared her throat. “Doyoung, this is Donghyuck, my…” she looked at him. “My boyfriend. Hyuck, this is Doyoung. He started working here about six? Seven months ago?”

Doyoung just shrugged. He held his hand out for Hyuck to take but the look on his face says there’s no need for it.

“We know each other,” Donghyuck said, but he took the older’s hand anyway, shaking it gently. Hyuck gripped his hand a little harder than what the other was probably expecting, making Doyoung wince lightly. “From work.”

“You do?” Y/N asked. But Hyuck’s eyes remained focused on Doyoung. Something about him is unsettling.

“You never told me you and Y/N knew each other, Hyung,” he said, hands going back to his side.

“Well, we don’t really talk that much,” the other replied, nonchalant. “Besides, you never really mentioned your girlfriend at work. How am I supposed to know it’s Y/N?”

Donghyuck didn’t reply. Doyoung is not a constant presence in the company. They usually only see him in the recording studios. He always talks to Hyuck’s members, especially Jeno. But he and Donghyuck didn’t really seem to click. He never knew why.

Hyuck turned to Y/N who was silently watching the exchange behind the counter. “Can you go now?”

She looked at Doyoung, eyes silently pleading. The latter rolled his eyes. “Fine, leave the old, single guy to do everything,” he said.

“Please, Doie? I’ll cover one closing shift for you, please?” She pouted. Donghyuck wanted to scream. He suddenly couldn’t figure out how he lasted eight months without witnessing this.

“You don’t have to. You’ve already fixed everything anyway. Just go.” Doyoung said.

Y/N cheered. “You’re an angel. I’ll buy you coffee tomorrow, I promise,” she said before turning to Hyuck. “Let me just get my things at the back, then I’ll meet you outside, yeah?”

“Sure,” he replied with a smile.

She nodded before disappearing hurriedly. And suddenly, Donghyuck was left in an awkward atmosphere with Doyoung. The older guy was counting something behind the counter, so Hyuck figured he should just leave and go outside. But before he could even take a step, Doyoung spoke up.

“You should be thankful for her, you know,” he said.

“Hm?”

“Eight months and she’s still there for you.” Doyoung let out an empty laugh, shaking his head.

“I am, Hyung. I’m very thankful,” Donghyuck said.

“It was hard for her, Donghyuck,” he said. “You’re lucky. You came back at the right time.”

Hyuck raised an eyebrow but didn’t reply. He didn’t know what he meant by that. He didn’t like the tone Doyoung was using nor the way he’s saying things so nonchalantly, like he expected Donghyuck to already know it.

“If I were Y/N, I wouldn’t have waited for you. I couldn’t, not with all the things that happened in her life. But she’s way kinder than me. Way gentler. Way stronger,” Doyoung continued. He looked at Donghyuck, his eyes conveying a message that is way heavier than his words. “If you ask me, she didn’t deserve to go through all that alone with nothing but stupid letters when she could easily have been with someone.”

Donghyuck blinked. “Hyung…”

“She didn’t deserve to wait for someone who doesn’t see her as she should be seen, not as a distraction.”

The younger’s heart was pounding in his chest, fast and hard. He couldn’t breathe, but he didn’t want the other guy to see that he was getting to him. He shouldn’t be getting to him. “I… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he croaked, his throat felt like closing up.

Doyoung shrugged. “Sure.”

Hyuck was sure he would have fainted if the older continued. But thank God, Y/N appeared just when he was running out of things to say.

“Oh, you’re still here?” she asked. She was already wearing a jacket with her purse slung over her shoulders and on her torso. She retouched her makeup, but Hyuck didn’t really mind. He was just grateful she’s there.

“Let’s go?” he said, holding his hand out for her to take.

Y/N nodded with a smile, taking Donghyuck’s hand. Her fingers found their rightful places in between his almost immediately that Hyuck nearly cried. This day held too many emotions for him, it was a struggle keeping up.

“Let’s go,” she said. She muttered a quick goodbye to Doyoung before allowing Hyuck to pull her out the door.

The cool spring breeze blew on the couple as soon as they stepped onto the streets. For a moment, neither of them moved. The two of them just awkwardly stood there, watching the calm night traffic of the suburbs. Hyuck didn’t actually plan this part ahead. He was so focused on wanting to see Y/N that he forgot to think about what comes after.

“So…” he started, grinning sheepishly, tugging on her hand. Slowly, they began walking away from the bookstore to god knows where. “Where do you want to go?”

Y/N shrugged. “Honestly, this is so surreal to me that you’re here, so my brain is still malfunctioning a bit so I don’t know.”

Donghyuck laughed. “Missed me that much?”

“I don’t know. Did I?” she said sarcastically, nose scrunching. When she saw Hyuck pouting, she chuckled. “Of course, I did.”

He scoffed. “And yet you still haven’t kissed me since I came.”

Y/N looked away. It’s hard to tell from the dim illumination of the street lights but he was pretty sure she was blushing. It’s so easy to make her blush. “If you find us a place private enough, then I’ll think about it.”

“Y/N!” Donghyuck whined in protest. “We’re not on our first date. I’ve kissed you countless times already, why do you still have to think about it?”

She laughed out loud, pulling him sidewards by the arm until his cheek was at the level of her lips. She pecked it lightly before mumbling, “You’re so cute, I missed you so much.”

And that was more than enough to keep Donghyuck’s mouth shut, at least for a while.

He felt light. Like he was suddenly free of all his worries and fears. Walking on the streets with Y/N felt exactly like it did all those months ago. Nothing changed between us, he thought and he was getting more and more assured by the moment. Little did he know, that feeling was short-lived. After all, their night was only starting.

“Hey, we can go to that cafe we used to go to. It’s near your house anyway,” he suggested.

“Oh, um,” she cleared her throat. “We moved out from there actually. My apartment is a bit far from the cafe, so… I don’t go there much anymore. But we can if you want to.”

“You have an apartment?” Donghyuck asked.

Y/N nodded.

“Like your own apartment???”

She nodded again. “My parents sold the house and decided to move to Busan,” she explained. “So, I’m alone here now.”

“Since when?”

“Like a month or so after you left? It all happened very fast.” She shrugged.

“Wow,” Donghyuck breathed. “I really missed a lot, huh?”

Y/N just looked away and didn’t reply. Hyuck felt guilty. Just how much has happened in her life while he was away? How many times did she need him in all those months that he was gone? She’s been living alone for almost as long as he was away, and yet he didn’t have a single clue. If he was witnessing this scenario as someone else, he would never guess that he was her boyfriend.

“I’m sorry,” he let out, his voice soft but still audible against the noise of the night.

Y/N sighed. “I told you you don’t have to say sorry, Hyuck,” she said. “It’s not your fault.” She smiled.

His chest tightened. He wanted to stop walking and just hug her in the middle of the street. Who cares about all the people watching anyway? But just by the way Y/N looked away and stayed silent after that, he knew she wanted some space.

I’m still sorry, he wanted to say but he didn’t want to further deplete an already depleted mood. So instead, he squeezed her hand in his, rubbing his thumb against the back of it reassuringly.

Y/N smiled kindly at him but didn’t hold his gaze. She removed her hand from his grip to retrieve her phone from her pocket and suddenly, Donghyuck felt empty.

“There’s a cafe near my place. I’ll check if it’s still open,” she said.

It’s such a simple and endearing gesture, holding hands. But it’s weird and sad that it was the closest he got to her ever since they saw each other earlier. Normal, it would seem for a lot of other couples out there, but definitely not for one that’s been dating for a year and four months already, especially if they haven’t seen each other in months.

And that's just when it hit him. They’ve been together for a year and four months, but Hyuck left on the eighth month. He’s been gone for half that time. He missed Christmas. He missed New Year. He missed Valentines. But more importantly, he missed their first anniversary.

All his time in the company and not once did the thought of their anniversary cross his mind. The guilt that he was feeling earlier magnified by a thousand.

Did she remember it? Did she do something that day? Did she try to contact me? he wondered.

Donghyuck looked at the woman beside him. She was still busy tapping away on her phone. A few strands of her hair had fallen on her face. The changing images on the screen made the light and shadows bounce on her features. A lot of her is still the same. She still mutters every single word as she types them. She still bites her lip lightly when she makes small decisions. She still taps her index finger against the side of her phone when she’s waiting for a page to load. She still has every endearing habit she never notices that she does.

Yet, Donghyuck knows, although he is scared to admit that there’s a lot of parts of her that he doesn’t know anymore, too. The secured feeling he had upon seeing her from the window of the bookstore with the thought that nothing about her changed was gone, replaced by this ominous feeling of guilt and something else he couldn’t quite point out. Suddenly, his mom’s and Doyoung’s voice are roaming in his head.

A huge part of your lives went by without each other. Change is inevitable. She didn’t deserve to go through all that alone with nothing but stupid letters when she could easily have been with someone.

“The store’s still open. Wanna go there?” she asked, finally looking at him again. And when he didn’t reply, she followed up with a confused “What?”

“Hm?”

“Why are you looking at me like that?” One corner of her lips turned up a bit.

Donghyuck only shook his head, forcing himself to smile. I don’t deserve you, he thought. But he knew he couldn’t burden her with that heavy of a statement on the first hour of their reunion without so much as feeling her lips on his again. So instead he just said, “I really missed you.”

Y/N let out a deep breath. It almost sounded like a sigh of relief. Then she smiled, her fingers finding their way in their rightful places between his once again. “I really missed you, too,” she replied.

We’re still okay, Hyuck told himself. At least for now, we’re okay.

[probably-writing-x]

One

~Shawn Mendes~

~Based on One by Lewis Capaldi~

There wouldn't ever come a day where Shawn could no longer remember the exact events of that night. Where he wouldn't remember the feeling of complete and utter heartbreak that swarmed the apartment and made it impossible for him to not feel it too. Where he wouldn't wish he could take it all back.

~~~Two Years Earlier~~~

The call sounded from his phone, cutting out the song and flashing your photo onto the dark screen - it was a picture of you and him in London when he'd been on tour there.

"Hello love!" Shawn picks up instantly, speaking through his headphones as he walks to flop down on the couch in his lounge, looking out at the Toronto skyline where he generally focused on the sight of your apartment just about in view, "Are you still alright to come over tomorrow? I've got a new little song and I need my best opinion,"

"Shawn," Your voice was nothing above a whisper on the other end and part of him thought he'd imagined it.

But the tug on his heart told him he'd dreamt nothing of the sort.

"(Y/n)?" Shawn jolts up to sit up on the couch, preparing himself for the worst that was yet to come, "Honey, are you okay?"

"Can you come over?" Your words are shaking just as much as your entire body, "I just, I need-"

"I'm on my way, don't come off the phone okay?" Shawn jumps up and grabs his keys, tugging on whatever shoes were closest before making the sprint across the city streets to reach your place.

He makes it there in record time which, on any other day, he would make a point of being proud of. Today, he feared all possible worsts.

"(Y/n)?" Shawn's banging on the door enough to confirm that he would be more than willing to knock it down, "Honey, are you in there?"

Silently and with all levels of no energy, your hands move to unlock the front door, opening the barrier so that the only thing between you and your best friend was the thick tension of his fear.

The sight is one he promised himself he would never let the world witness. You're dressed in all typical signs of your normal self but your face is completely different. Your cheeks are stained with oceanic tears and your eyes have become red and puffy in their attempts to prevent further crying. Your bottom lip trembles and your hair is disheveled - you'd had your hands through it.

"He ended it," You manage to squeak out, hands shaking as you do.

Shawn's jaw clenches as he prevents himself from asking a million questions about those simple three words. Instead, his arms enclose your figure and he squeezes enough to let out the next batch of crisp tears, each of them soaking into the grey of his hoodie.

You're trembling against his torso and he's holding you like you'll crumble against him if he even attempts to loosen his grip.

"I've lost him Shawn. I've lost him, I've lost everything," You're truly sobbing now, letting out all of the words that had been tracking through your mind ever since Joe broke the news, "What did I do wrong?"

That's enough for Shawn to cancel all of your self-blame plans, "Hey," He snaps, pulling you away from him to make sure he looks you in the eyes as he says it, "Don't you dare say that. Whatever decision Joe made, you couldn't have done anymore,"

You try your best to nod in agreeance but find yourself crying even more, head dropping back against Shawn's shoulder as you do so.

You're not sure how long the two of you stay like that before Shawn guides you over to the couch, never once letting his hands loosen from around their support on you.

He stayed like that for the whole night, letting you tell the story of what had happened with you and Joe in your own broken pieces - pieces split with crying or cracked words or trembling lips. He lets you blame yourself until your done and then spends time telling you exactly how wrong you were.

In fact, Shawn stayed like that at your place for the next unnumbered days. He clears away the dying flowers that Joe had bought you before he left and he replays the story over in his head again and again.

You and Joe had been together for over a year now - opting to move in together to Joe's place only a few months ago. You were head over heels for the boy! He was currently working his way up the ladder of his family company and had recently left for New York to try to get the next promotion. Your flight to see him was already booked. Until the out of the blue call came telling you he'd been having second thoughts. And, just like that, he dropped you.

How on earth could someone do that to anyone?! Let alone the girl Shawn thought the world of. Joe had the dream relationship and he'd let it all go to waste. He'd let you completely go to waste.

~~~Present Day~~~

It took a long while for Shawn to see you brighten with your colours once again. For a long time, they'd been completely bled from you thanks to the shattering heartbreak Joe left you with. But, in a slow process, Shawn was there to watch you build yourself back up. He helped you move out of the apartment and into one in the same block as his. He waited outside when Joe came home as he felt gut wrenchingly terrified that he'd have to see you at your lowest once again after that. He stayed through the countless times that you cried and the times you got yourself so worked up that you made yourself ill.

And here he was.

In your own time, you'd learnt that your heart loved Shawn. For every one of his quirks, you completely loved him. And, boy, was that scary! He knew it too but he'd still let you take little shuffles before the big jump.

"Babe, I'm losing you," You wave your hand in front of his face until Shawn snaps out of his daze.

"Oh, sorry, honey," He shakes his head, looking at you with a light smile.

You chuckle and lift his arm so he could wrap it around you, "What on Earth were you thinking about?"

Shawn takes a breath, "You."

You look up at him and cock a brow, "Me?"

He hums in response and presses a soft kiss to your lips, "Just how lucky I am,"

You blush and kiss him again like it's the only thing you know how to do.

"What do you fancy for dinner tonight?" You ask him, hand settling on his chest.

"It's your choice, darling," He shrugs, reaching over to his phone and pressing shuffle on his playlist.

"Ooh, I'm gonna go with takeaway," You wiggle your brows, jumping up from the couch.

Shawn makes a noise of protest about the fact you were leaving him again.

"Sorry, babe, but the menus are calling me," You laugh, shaking your hips as an upbeat song blasts through the apartment.

Shawn tucks an arm atop his head and watches you move with the shadows of a smile between his cheeks.

Joe had told you that you weren't enough for him. That your love wasn't enough. He was looking for some sort of perfect despite having it stood right next to him. God, that guy must be fucking hard to please! He had his mind on his career and you were supposedly a burden to that progression. Shawn had learnt how to work with both. He picked up the pieces of your heart and loved you unconditionally whilst still continuing his career - he brought you along for every success and every failure. That's how it should be.

Your boyfriend is only snapped back into reality again this time by the change in song as one that always reminded you of Joe begins to play through the speakers. He winces and goes to change it quickly.

"No, no, it's okay Shawn," You shake your head, "You like this one,"

"I used to," He points out, standing up from the sofa and walking over to you, "You don't like it,"

You shrug your shoulders, "It was a long time ago. And I've got you, and god that's more than I could ask for,"

Your boyfriend smiles delicately and wraps his arms around your waist, finally settling them on your hips as he pulls back.

"I wish I could thank that guy, you know," Shawn admits, evidently a thought that had been ticking through in his mind.

"I'm sorry?" You ask in bewilderment.

"He broke your heart. He made all of these mistakes and put you through all of this pain and, because of that, he let the most phenomenal woman I know get away," Shawn explains, "And he let her fall in love with me,"

"Somebody else's loss is another's gain, huh?" You raise your brows.

Shawn chuckles softly and kisses you again, "Exactly, love,"

"Okay, so I fancy pizza but the best place doesn't deliver s-"

"So I'll go pick it up. The usual?" He cuts in, already moving to put on his jacket and shoes.

"You read my mind," You grin, realising this song no longer had an effect on you anymore. Joe was, thankfully, a distant memory now.

"I'll be back in a bit babe, love you," Shawn says quickly, kissing you before he leaves.

He made it a tradition to do just that - everytime he left he always kissed you and told you he loved you. Always.

~~~

The night air was crisp in Toronto as Shawn power walked the journey to the nearby pizza place you two always said did the best pizzas in the city. He diverted past where the two of you had your first date and even walked the crossing near the diner he'd taken you to at 3am when you couldn't sleep from how much you'd been crying.

The waft of italian herbs triggered his senses as he stepped into the old door of the fast food restaurant and walked to the counter to order your food.

"Shawn,"

Part of him prayed it was a fan who'd spotted him. The rest of him knew that voice exactly.

"Joe," Shawn turns on his heel to look at the face that utterly enraged him.

"How... How is she?"

"Come on man," Shawn sighs deeply, "It's been long enough,"

"Just tell me," Joe snaps.

The bags under his eyes were evident and he looked as though his shoulders would fall if they dropped any lower.

"Actually, she's doing great, man," Shawn nods with glimmers of pride flashing in his words, "Because, you see, you thought you'd broken her. You heard her crying and you saw her pleading with you and you knew you were the one that caused that heart to break. You knew you were the one who broke that beautiful, kind, incredible heart,"

"Don't do this to me, man," Joe croaks, scratching at the back of his neck.

"No, no, I'm actually going to thank you," Shawn states, holding out a hand.

He waits until Joe's hand clasps his before he continues.

"Because you're paying the price for what you did to her," Shawn explains, "So, thank you for letting me take your place. Thanks for giving me the opportunity to save her soul. And thank you for letting me have the chance to be everything you could never, ever be."

He grips Joe's hand a little too firmly before turning away to take your order of pizza and leaving as though he'd never been there.

~~~

"That was quick!" You grin as soon as Shawn walks in.

He instantly sets the pizzas on the table and grabs your hand before you can turn round to get them.

"Wh-"

He silences your questioning with a firm kiss, one where his hands cup your cheeks and he is solely focused on this being one of those kisses you remember.

"What was that for?" You chuckle a little breathlessly.

Shawn smiles lightly, his forehead resting on yours as he speaks, "Just needed to kiss you,"

~~~

(this is probably one of my favourite things I've written so please let me know what you think x)

Tags: @imarypayne @sunshine112 @bringmethehorizonandpizza @supernatural-girl97 @vibhati123 @butithasntkilledyouyet @faefictions @carisi-sonny @trap-house-homiecide @spiderrpcrker @tommydaspidey @oneblckcoffee @darlingtholland @fanficparker @xxtomxo @httpfandxms

[stillsearchingforsomething]

You’ll get better soon, cause you have to

December 2018

When she gets to Andrea's Nashville house, Austin opens the door and they exchange a quick hug before he lets her in.

“She’s on the back porch,” he says and Karlie doesn’t feel even a little guilty about unceremoniously dropping her stuff in the entryway and walking past the other rooms in the house straight to the back. She stands in front of the screen door, watches Taylor for a few seconds.

Her shoulders are slumped, and she has her legs up on the couch, arms wrapped around them as she stares off into the distance. Karlie doesn’t have to follow her gaze to know she’s not staring at anything in particular, and her heart breaks.

The screen door squeaks when she pushes it open and Taylor’s shaken out of her reverie, looks to the side and smiling brokenly when she sees Karlie.

“Hey, love,” Karlie says softly, carefully.

Taylor doesn’t say anything, but her lower lip trembles and Karlie’s in front of her in a flash, dropping to her knees in front of the couch and wrapping her arms around Taylor.

Taylor cries into her shoulder, hugs Karlie back, fingers digging into her sides as she clutches Karlie desperately.

“It’s okay, baby, let it all out,” Karlie coos, softly stroking her hand down Taylor’s back.

They stay like that for a long while, Karlie’s shirt becoming damp with Taylor’s tears and she can’t help but let out a few tears of her own at the sound of Taylor’s heart wrenching sobs.

She’s down to sniffling with the occasional hiccup and Karlie pulls away enough to sit on the couch next to her, pulling Taylor’s body into her own so the blonde’s legs are thrown over her own and she can wrap an arm around Taylor’s shoulders.

“How did you get here so quickly?” Taylor asks through her tears. “You’re supposed to be in New York.”

Karlie just shakes her head and smiles softly at her. She runs her fingers in an idle pattern across Taylor’s thighs to calm her.

“I called the pilot as soon as you called me,” Karlie says with a shrug. “I wish I had gotten here sooner.”

“It’s okay,” Taylor says, voice still shaky but she seems considerably more calm than before. “You're here now.”

“Baby, there is nowhere else I’d rather be,” Karlie says, pressing a soft kiss to Taylor’s forehead.

“Was that your first cry?” Karlie asks, even though she knows the answer.

Taylor nods, heavily leans her head against Karlie’s shoulder.

“How’s your mom doing?”

Taylor shrugs, shaking her head softly. “She’s being her usual stoic, practical self,” Taylor says, voice cracking as a wave of emotion overtakes her again.

“That’s to be expected.”

“You didn’t see her when you came in?” Taylor asks, sighs softly when Karlie reaches up to tug her hair free from its ponytail.

Karlie runs her fingers through Taylor’s hair, slowly and soothingly as she feels the blonde relax against her.

“No, I only saw Austin before I came to find you” Karlie explains.

“You should really go say hi,” Taylor chides gently, even though she makes no move to get away from Karlie, and if anything, she slumps even closer.

“I will,” Karlie says, and she turns her head to see the ghost of a smile cross Taylor’s face.

She presses her lips against Taylor’s forehead, lingering there when Taylor sighs and slowly closes her eyes.

Taylor shudders and she’s crying again, but she’s so quiet that Karlie’s not sure Taylor even knows she’s crying.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Karlie asks, reaches up and wipes away Taylor’s tears.

Taylor shakes her head, and leans heavily against Karlie again, eyes closing to avoid crying.

Karlie’s stomach grumbles loudly and Taylor moves away with a small chuckle.

“I’m such a bad host,” Taylor says with a smile and it’s the first one that’s genuine, that reaches her eyes and Karlie’s glad to see it.

“Well, Austin let me in so technically, he’s a bad host,” Karlie says trying to get a smile out of Taylor.

Taylor gives a small smile, but still leans away from Karlie.

“You need to eat,” she says, slips her hand into Karlie’s.

“Have you eaten?” Karlie asks, tugging softly on Taylor’s hand.

Taylor doesn’t look at her, so she has her answer.

“Taylor…” she says with a soft sigh. Taylor looks at her, and her eyes are filled with sorrow as she shakes her head.

“I’m not hungry.”

“You need to eat too baby… I will if you do,” Karlie says and Taylor quirks her mouth, considering the option.

“Okay,” she whispers and Karlie smiles. “Only because you need to eat.”

Karlie lets herself be led to the kitchen, but when Taylor starts moving around the space she looks a little lost, so Karlie stops her, pressing her into the counter, trapping her with a hand on either side.

“Let me,” she says, pressing her lips against Taylor’s temple. Taylor shivers, but nods and when Karlie steps away she lifts herself onto the kitchen counter.

“Tell me about your day?” Taylor asks softly while Karlie gathers ingredients to make a sandwich.

“I couldn’t sleep last night, so after a while I gave up and watched an episode of Mindhunter.” Karlie’s opening cupboards left and right, and Taylor smiles briefly.

“Left of the fridge,” she interjects, watches as Karlie opens said cupboard and smiles widely upon finding the peanut butter.

“Thanks. Anyway, so the episode is about this guy who is a serial killer and he’s so creepy. And the guys are interviewing him trying to figure out he became a serial killer and I got so freaked out that I had to turn on the lights in our room.”

When Karlie glances at Taylor, the woman is listening intently, so she continues.

“So I decided to read a bit instead because I was too scared to sleep and then I started to feel tired so I turn off all the lights to try and go to sleep and then next thing I know, Dibbles jumps up on the bed and almost lands on my face. I jumped about a foot in the air.”

“You’re such a wuss,” Taylor interjects and Karlie shoots her a glare even though she’s secretly happy to hear her making a joke, even if it’s at her expense. She’s done making two sandwiches so she starts putting all the things back in their places.

Taylor’s smiling, and it’s a beautiful sight to see, and Karlie can’t help but smile softly at her.

“Bite?” Karlie offers, holds up her sandwich.

Taylor hesitates, but then leans in and takes a bite, immediately grimacing when she chews.

“What the fuck is that?” she asks around a mouthful of bread.

“Peanut butter, jelly, nutella sandwich,” Karlie says with a grin.

“I can’t believe you let me bite into that,” Taylor says, still chewing before swallowing it down in one gulp. “That is disgusting, I swear you have the palate of a five year-old.”

“Leave my sandwich cuisine alone,” Karlie says, makes eye contact and holds it as she slowly takes another bite of the sandwich. “I made one for you, though.”

She slides the plate towards Taylor and the woman looks at it with suspicion.

“What’s in it?”

“Peanut butter and jelly,” Karlie says.

She counts it as a win when Taylor reaches out and picks up the sandwich, taking a small bite out of it. She eats half of it before putting it back down on the plate, softly pushing the plate away from herself to indicate she’s done and Karlie happily picks up the leftover sandwich and bites into it.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Taylor whispers, feels like she needs to express her gratitude.

“Of course,” Karlie says, smiling softly at her and reaching out to intertwine their fingers.

Taylor’s grip on her hand is tight and even though she looks okay, Karlie knows she isn’t. She tugs Taylor close but the blonde seems reluctant, until their eyes meet and Karlie sees that she’s trying to hold it together and Karlie knows that embracing her will crumble her resolve.

She knows that Taylor needs to cry, though, so she softly tugs on Taylor’s hand again and the woman comes crashing into her, burying her face in Karlie’s neck as she wraps her arms around Karlie’s waist, all but collapsing into her as the tears come back with a vengeance. Karlie holds her tightly, hand reaching up to cradle Taylor’s head against her neck, her other hand rubbing back and forth over Taylor’s back soothingly.

“I’ve got you baby,” Karlie whispers, closing her eyes to avoid crying herself. “I’ve always got you.”

Taylor’s shaking, so Karlie slowly drags her fingers across her scalp, tries to get Taylor at least calm enough to breathe normally.

“Did you say you couldn’t sleep last night?” Taylor asks, voice shaky, the words mumbled against Karlie’s neck.

Karlie frowns, doesn’t quite understand the connection but she nods. “I was too worried to sleep.”

Taylor’s hands tighten around her and she can feel Karlie softly smile.

“Do you want to take a nap with me?” Taylor asks with a sniffle.

“Absolutely,” Karlie says, and Taylor pulls away enough to smile up at the taller woman.

Karlie reaches out, wipes away Taylor’s tears as she leans in and presses her lips against Taylor’s temple.

“I should really go say hi to your mom first though, I’ll meet you upstairs.”

Taylor pouts but she nods, reluctantly pulling away from Karlie to make her way upstairs.

Fifteen minutes later they’re tangled together in bed, Karlie’s fingers running through Taylor’s hair while Taylor’s fingers trace random patterns on Karlie’s stomach.

“I can’t believe this is happening again,” Taylor whispers brokenly.

“I know baby,” Karlie says, tugs softly at Taylor’s hair to get the blonde to look up at her as she tries to give her the most reassuring look she can muster. “You know she’s going to fight it with everything she’s got.”

Taylor’s tearing up again and Karlie just holds her tight.

“I can’t lose her Karlie” Taylor whispers and her voice is so small that Karlie tears up. “I can’t do this without her.”

Taylor looks and sounds so heartbroken and she’s silently crying and Karlie doesn’t know what to do.

“You won’t have to baby, okay?” Karlie says, tries to sound strong for the both of them but knows she doesn’t really succeed when she sniffles to avoid crying.

“I love you,” Taylor whispers, shifts so she can press her forehead against Karlie’s, eyes sliding closed.

“I know,” Karlie says and Taylor pulls away with a short, sharp laugh.

“You’re really gonna quote Friends to me right now?”

“Only if it makes you laugh.”

Taylor leans in to kiss Karlie with a small smile, and it warms Karlie’s heart.

Karlie holds her close as Taylor slowly kisses her, lets the blonde set the pace even though she’s itching to kiss her properly, especially when she remembers that this is the first time she’s had the chance in almost five days.

It also means that Karlie’s extra embarrassed when she has to pull away from Taylor to yawn loudly.

“You’re tired, baby,” Taylor says, reaches out to softly rub Karlie’s back. “Sleep.”

“I don’t want you to stay up by yourself,” Karlie protests but she yawns again.

“I’m not going to fall asleep.”

“Then I’m not either,” Karlie says, struggling to sit up and not getting very far with Taylor draped on top of her.

Taylor pushes at her shoulder, urges her to stay down and Karlie’s too tired to fight her.

“I like watching you sleep, it calms me,” Taylor explains and Karlie can’t really argue with that, especially when Taylor shifts away to lie on her back, tugging Karlie with her so Karlie’s head rests on Taylor’s chest.

She runs her fingers through Karlie’s hair and lulls the woman to sleep, and then ends up falling asleep as well, hand tangled in Karlie’s hair and her other arm flung over her head.

Karlie wakes up to Taylor’s leg curled around her own and face pressed into the crook of Taylor’s neck while feeling like she can’t breathe. She carefully extricates herself moving as little as possible to ensure the Taylor stays asleep. Taylor seeks her out in her sleep, curling into the space Karlie has vacated and it makes Karlie smile.

Karlie pads downstairs, bypassing the living room where Austin is engrossed in the Notre Dame game before pouring herself a cup of coffee and stepping out on to the back porch, she’s surprised to find Andrea sitting on the swing.

“Hello dear,” Andrea smiles. “Where’s Taylor?”

“She’s taking a nap,” Karlie says with a small smile as she slides her hands into the back pockets of her jeans.

“Come sit with me hon,” Andrea says, patting the spot next to her on the swing as she scoots to the side.

Karlie smiles as she slides onto the couch next to Taylor’s mom and curls her legs up under her.

“How’re you doing?” Andrea inquires softly.

“I feel like I should be asking you the same thing,” Karlie shoots back before she remembers who she’s talking to and her eyes widen in panic as she falls silent.

Andrea lets out a soft laugh, patting Karlie’s thigh softly to sooth her. “I’m doing ok,” she explains and Karlie softens even though she doesn’t look entirely convinced. “How’s Taylor doing?”

“She’s ok,” Karlie answers and this time it’s Andrea’s turn to look like she doesn’t quite believe her.

“She will be ok,” Karlie amends looking intently at the cup of coffee she has cradled in her hands.

“I know she will,” Andrea says smiling softly.

“I’m going to need you to take care of her for me,” Andrea says quietly, the request catching Karlie off-guard. Karlie turns her head sharply at that, eyes panicked as she meets Andrea’s eyes.

“I’m not planning on going anywhere sweetheart, not for a long time,” Andrea re-assures Karlie, rubbing the blonde’s leg again. “But I’m not going to be able to be around as much as I would like, so I need you to promise me that you’ll take care of her.”

“I promise,” Karlie whispers, her voice cracking.

“Come here, sweetheart,” Andrea urges, opening her arms when she sees Karlie trying to hold back tears.

Karlie gives in and moves into Andrea’s arms, dropping her head onto her shoulder and Andrea rubs her back soothingly as Karlie softly cries.

Thirty minutes later, Taylor shuffles out on to the porch and settles herself on Karlie’s lap, deciding to ignore the fact that her mother’s and fiancee’s eyes are decidedly red-rimmed.

Karlie wraps her arms around the blonde, one of her hands resting softly against Taylor’s hip.

None of the women say anything, content to enjoy the silence as they watch the Nashville sun set.

They stay like that until the last of the evening light has faded, Karlie sipping her coffee and Taylor leaning against her mother’s side.

[bnhascribbles]

Partner

Bakugo x Reader

Angst, Humor, Dialogue Prompts (22, 47, 62)

I took artistic liberties lol.  EDIT: Also may have forgotten one of the quotes...

Words: 4.4K

Warnings: Swearing, Violence, Mentions of death

Hair, once light, is dark, matted with blood and sweat. Bakugo’s costume is in similar condition, still caked in a thick layer of grime from his last rescue. But he can’t stop, not yet. His practiced gaze scans over the rest of the debris, searching. Shattered windows, overturned cars, crumbling buildings–it was all the same stuff he’d expected to see in the aftermath of such a large attack. His heart races, nonetheless. Shit, shit, shit. Curses pour from his lips like prayers, uttered between bouts of panting. He focuses on getting his breathing under control before he moves on, planting a steadying palm against the wall of the alleyway. When he drags it down along the red brick, his gauntlet leaves a smokey trail in its wake. Memories flood in, even as he does his best to shove them back.

The scorch marks marring the dorm wall are obvious, to say the least. Faded grey rings branch out along the white plaster, all stemming from a single, intense patch of soot. One that, suspiciously enough, resembles a handprint,

“You’ve really done it this time, matchstick.” You lean in close, using your fingernail to scratch at the stain. Some of it flakes off, but there’s an obvious film of residue left in the blast zone. “Aizawa is gonna straight-up murder you when he finds out.”

To his credit, Bakugo at least has the sense to look a little nervous, one hand shoved deep into his pocket, the other tucked firmly beneath his armpit. Trying to avoid having another “misfire.”

“You think I don’t fucking know that?” He grumbles. “Just tell me if you can fix it.”

You scratch at your chin, seeming all pensive. But it was bullshit. Really, it was an easy fix–he already knew that, considering the fact that he’d come straight to you after his squabble with Midoriya escalated into a full-fledged explosion. But he also knew that you were going to try and draw this out; You had this thing about “leaving a lesson,” and this seemed like the perfect opportunity to make sure he learned a thing or two about dialing down his bloodlust.

“It’s gonna cost you.”

Bakugo’s mouth pulls off to one side of his face. “How much?”

“A month of cleaning my room–sweeping, dusting, polishing, and mopping. Plus an apology to Midoriya.”

He wants to argue, to barter. But he doesn’t–he doesn’t have the time or the patience to spend trying to convince anyone else to help him. So Bakugo just stands there, chewing on his lip and shifting his weight between his legs.

“Fine.” He sighs, bouncing on his heels. “Just fix it before anyone else sees.”

“What’s the magic word?” You ask, grinning wide and having way too much fun with the whole situation.

“Fix the damn wall before I–” A loud click from the double doors leading into the common area makes Bakugo flinch, twisting wildly, like some prey animal that’s about to be snatched up. When the knob twists, his eyes dart back to you, looking positively wild. You’re still grinning, thrumming your fingers against the stain. Waiting.

Your fingers tap, tap, tap against the plaster.  Repetitive and rhythmic.  And irritating–like Iida’s pencil sharpener whirring every evening at the same time.  Or shitty-hair hitting his fucking punching bag at 3 am when the blonde trying to sleep.

As much as he wants to burn your hand to a crisp–to stop that grating sound–now wasn’t the time to go ape-shit.  Bakugo couldn’t risk the consequences of pissing off Aizawa (again).

“Please!” He swallows his pride and hisses the word, even though it feels like it’s burning on his tongue.

Without another moment of hesitation, you tap the wall. It’s like hitting an imaginary rewind button–Bakugo can see the progression of the damage being played out in reverse. Rings sink back into the palm print until even that begins to fade. Within a second, all signs of his outburst have been erased. Dusting off your hands, you turn just in time to wave at Kirishima as he pushes open the common room door, strolling towards you. His lips twist upward when he sees a very relieved-looking Bakugo clutching at his chest.

“Was he being an idiot again?”

Bakugo barks out an irritated curse at his friend and stomps off into the hallway, never once peering back over his shoulder. Even so, your boisterous laughter bounces off the walls, reaching his ears as he turns the corner into the stairwell.

“Yeah, he was. But don’t worry about it; I’ve got him covered.”

The throbbing in his chest doesn’t subside, even after a minute of that “deep breathing” crap, so Bakugo decides to move on anyway. He scales the fire escape up to the roof, anxious to get a better idea of his surroundings. He already knew the area well–he spent more time patrolling the streets than he spent in his own damn home–but knowing where the corner store was wouldn’t help him find what he was looking for. People never stuck around in one place for too long during disasters like this. Not unless they were–

No, Bakugo shakes off the thought as he climbs the final step. He yanks his phone out of his pocket and an alert banner drifts across his screen, screaming at him with bold, obnoxious text.

...mass civilian casualties reported. Additionally, over two dozen individuals are unaccounted for in the Dagobah district alone. Counted among the missing is pro-hero, Retrograde, who was last spotted leading rescue efforts in...

Bakugo locks the screen before he has to read any more, running a shaky hand over the bottom half of his face. Reporters didn’t know shit anyway.

You step into the agency training room, following close behind Bakugo. Once the door shuts, you twist the lock to the right. Your partner scowls, folding his arms across his chest in a frustrated gesture.

“What the hell is this about?” He growls, looking down his nose at you.

You inhale deeply, staring into blazing red eyes, unfazed. There’s not an ounce of your usual, goofy self left to be found. He’s grateful.

“This is gonna hurt.”

He blinks, gritting his teeth. “What–”

Before Bakugo can even get a word in, your fist is slamming into his jaw. He stumbles backward, thrown off balance by the force of the impact. Once he regains his footing, it’s less than a second before he’s pouncing towards you. His teeth are bared, his lips pulled back in a tight, animalistic snarl. You hop left, avoiding a full-on hit by a centimeter. Still, Bakugo’s reflexes get the better of you; He throws out an arm at the last second and catches your ankle as he passes, dragging you down with him. You hit the floor hard, landing on your back. Groaning, you fling out your other leg, shoving it into his ribs (too conveniently, in the same side he’d bruised just last week). Bakugo winces, releasing his hold, and after a complicated moment, you’ve got him pinned–held down by his chest and wrists.

“You know why you’ll never be number one?” You pant, pressing more of your weight into him when he struggles.

He growls, feral. “Get the fuck off of me.”

You don’t.

“It’s not ‘cause you’re a terrible hero. Hell, you’re brilliant–everyone agrees on that much.” You lean in close, speaking slowly. “It’s because your image is shit, Katsuki. And it’s shit because every time you do something good, you manage to screw it up by losing your cool and doing something stupid.”

You continue, paying no heed to Bakugo’s eyes as they narrow, murderous. “Silverfish is a hero. He worked his ass off helping us clear out that warehouse, but the second he makes one comment about your way of doing things, you go apeshit. You get in his face and scream and throw a hissy fit right in from of the reporters.” Shaking your head, you stand. “Like they need any other reason to rip into you.”

It takes every ounce of restraint in him, but Bakugo doesn’t lunge at you the instant you give him the opportunity (even though he really wants to). He settles for watching you rub your knuckles as you stare down at him. He hopes they hurt–he hopes you’d shattered every damn bone in them when you’d punched him. People needed to stop telling him how to do his job–how to act, how to be “nice” and pretend that he was some happy-go-lucky do-gooder. He wasn’t, and he didn’t want to be.

Bakugo sits up, scowling. “Reporters don’t know shit. I don’t care what any of those dumbasses say about me.”

You laugh, but there’s no humor in the sound. “Yeah? Then you’re a bigger fucking idiot than I thought.” When Bakugo jolts up, you move in close to him. Too close. “The press can make or break you. Give ‘em an opening and they’ll take it–they won’t hesitate to make you into their seven o’clock special. ‘Breaking news: Hero Ground Zero threatens violence against critics.’ Does that sound like the sort of headline that helps you move up the rankings?”

“It’s a fucking lie.”

“It doesn’t matter if it’s a lie or not! It’s what they’ll say!” You’re shouting now. Red seeps up to your face, coloring your cheeks and ears. “And what they say is what the public will believe.”

You stop and breathe, shallow and ragged, through your nose. Tracing small circles over your temples, you shut your eyes and hum to yourself. Your shoulders slow, their quick rise and fall, melting into something more controlled. Bakugo half thinks you’ve finally snapped–that the pressure of dealing with hero work and him and the media has finally made you lose it. He’s about to shove past you when you finally open your eyes. The intensity is still there, but your breathing has calmed down substantially.

“That’s why,” you begin, holding up your hands in a placating gesture, “If you’ve got a problem with someone, you find me. If I’m not around, you breathe and wait it out.” The words are soft. But they’re also firm. Rational.

Bakugo wonders if you’re still angry. He is. Then again, he can’t think of the last time that he wasn’t pissed off at something. He stares at you, grinding his teeth. He’s surprised to find that the urge to pay you back for the cheap shot you landed on him has faded. Just a little, though.  

You click your fingers against your wrist guard, thinking.  After what feels like a century of the nothing but tapping, you finally speak.

“We’re partners, Katsuki. If we don’t watch each other’s backs, then nobody will.” You hold out your hand. “Think we can agree on that much?”

He glances down at your outstretched fingers, then up at your face. If he’d really wanted to, he could’ve knocked you flat on your ass.

But there would be opportunities for that later.

Barely even realizing it, he takes your hand in his own.

Bakugo meets up with one of his sidekicks on what used to be a commercial street–the sort of place that vendors sold overpriced knick-knacks to tourists that didn’t know any better. Now, it looked like a fucking mess, with stalls overturned in the panic to evacuate and banners burned in the blaze that everyone had been running away from. Bakugo lifts the remains of a larger display, peeking under it. To anyone that didn’t know him, it might’ve looked like he was searching for civilians that’d been left behind.

His sidekick knows better. Bakugo doesn’t even have to ask the question burning in his mind before the young woman shakes her head.

“No sign of ‘em. We ripped apart the whole street and found nothing.”

Bakugo clenches his jaw, chokes down the acidic taste in his throat. No news was good news; He tries to convince himself that those words you liked to repeat over and over again have some truth to them. It’s hard to do that when he knows the actual numbers–when he has facts to refute the hopeful little figure of speech. The truth was that with every moment he waited around, the chances of finding you alive decreased. Drastically.

“Clear out these buildings the second you’re sure they’re not going to collapse.” Bakugo commands. “There could be survivors hiding out in there. And don’t move on until you check everywhere.”

He fiddles with his gauntlet, concentrating on keeping his breathing steady–like you’d showed him. In and out. In and out. No need to lose his cool. Yet.

“Rip out the ceiling tiles if you have to. People get creative when they’re desperate.”

“Where the fuck were you?!” Bakugo nearly loses it when he sees you hobbling towards the ambulances, coated in dust and nursing more than a few nasty cuts.

“Sipping piña coladas down at the beach.” You shout with a shit-eating grin that doesn’t seem to fit the situation. “Where do you think I was? I was hiding, Katsuki. That’s what you do when you’re hurt and there’s a baddie trying to murder you.”

Seeing you standing there, hearing the playful tone of your voice–it isn’t enough to convince him. Bakugo pushes past the paramedics, the news crews, his sidekicks. He doesn’t stop until he’s standing right in front of you, grabbing your shoulders and looking over you from head to toe.

Real. Ironically enough, the word doesn’t seem... well, real.

“How?” Bakugo demands as he runs his hands down your arms.

Feeling for broken bones, he convinces himself, even though that wasn’t something he usually did. Usually, he let paramedics handle checking for injuries. But right here, right now, he feels this compulsive need to check you out for himself–to make sure you’re as alive as you seem.

“Everyone was sure you were dead. How the hell did you get out of that tower?”

“Did you know,” you muse, still smiling, “That those old buildings have this space right above the–” You hiss, obviously in pain when Bakugo pokes at a spot between your side and your stomach.

“I climbed into the ceiling and waited around until things got quiet. Then I just scurried out the service entrance.” You admit shakily. “I didn’t think I’d be of much help like this, so I decided to play it safe.”

Bakugo stops his fussing for long enough to peer up and meet your eyes. You looked coherent enough. Tired, but sane–well, as sane as you could be. He remains quiet for a moment, then sighs.

“Good. That’s probably the smartest thing you could’ve done.”

You quirk up an eyebrow. “Wow, ‘smart.’ Don’t make a habit of complimenting me, now, or I’ll start to think I’m actually having a positive influence on you.”

Bakugo groans. “I didn’t say it was a smart decision, I said it was the smart-est given the situation.” Despite his protests, he kneels down to examine your ankles, spending extra time checking the side you’d avoided putting weight on. Not that he’d been paying attention.

“Same, difference. The point is, you were a decent human for about five seconds. That’s progress.”

He doesn’t respond, pretending to be too be too engrossed in his search for injuries. What was he supposed to say? “Thank you?” Was he supposed to hurl an insult back at you?

What if he didn’t feel like doing that right now?

“Does this hurt?” Bakugo asks, pressing on a spot that looks a little questionable.

“No.” You answer without hesitation. But your expression looks odd, strained.

“Are you lying?” He makes no effort to hide the irritation in his voice. He was trying to help, dammit. “Why are you making that face?”

“Not lying. It’s just,” your voice is thin–from what, he can’t decide, “You’re being so careful, and I couldn’t help but imagine ‘what if he was a nurse instead of a hero?’ Then I imagined you in one of those old, stereotypical nurse uniforms and I–” Whatever self-control you had disappears and you erupt into a fit of laughter. “I’m sorry, I just–”

You flinch, face contorted in pain and hand clutching at your side.

“Ow, ow, ow. Okay, it hurts to laugh.”

Bakugo stands, rolling his eyes. “That’s because you probably cracked a rib, weirdo.”

“And he’s back to being a jerk.” You groan, but a hint of a smirk lingers on your lips. “Then again, ‘weirdo’ sounds much nicer than ‘dumbass.’ So maybe you’re learning a thing or two, after all.”

Gingerly, without saying anything, he loops your arm over his shoulder. Bakugo could’ve used the opportunity to make some snarky remark about you being “dead weight” or “useless,” but he doesn’t.

“I’m glad you’re not dead.” Bakugo mutters under his breath. He doesn’t mean to say it–it just sort of slips out as the two of you trudge along your way.

You don’t reply; You don’t give any sort of indication that this was anything out of the ordinary. Still, Bakugo wonders–if he glanced over at you, would you roll your eyes? Would you think he was being insincere? Or would you look surprised? Happy, even?

“Even though you’re a dumbass.” He tacks it on before he can overthink things too much.

Bakugo kicks over a trashcan, pissed and exhausted and anxious. Nothing even vaguely human-shaped rolls out–just candy wrappers and soda cans. A deep sound bubbles in his throat, growing until it evolves into a full-scale shout. Your name.

Nobody shouts back. Bakugo hears ambulance sirens echoing in the distance, the low groan and clunk of machinery as crews come in to clear out heavy debris, maybe even the creaking of some buildings that had yet to crumble beneath their own weight. Whenever he stops focusing on them for just a moment, they become less industrial sounding–more human. His hyper-focused mind makes it into something it’s not. He hears sobbing, distant and choked, but so familiar it almost kills him to ignore. Throwing his hands over his ears, he shuts his eyes tight and tries to block the sounds out–tries focus and force down the memories they bring.

“Please, don’t cry.” Bakugo pleads even though he knows it won’t do any good.

He’s terrible at comforting people–that wasn’t a surprise–but even that isn’t the reason why your sobs continue to rip through the eerie silence of the alleyway.

Every hero had to go through this at some point–had to grapple with the fact that they couldn’t save everyone.

His had come early on, during his third-year internship nonetheless. An old man, trapped beneath rubble from a roof cave-in. It hadn’t even been a villain attack that did him in, just a sorry excuse for a supermarket and an ill-timed tremor. Bakugo remembers the rush to carry him out to the ambulances, the head-pounding, gut-wrenching feeling of being fucking useless as the paramedics looked over the man. Then, the sinking doubt that crept in, long after the techs shook their heads and made their pronouncements. It was a silent beast that told him he hadn’t been fast enough. Smart enough. Good enough.

Now, it was your turn to deal with the same thing. Months–almost a year–into your career, and you still weren’t any more prepared for it than he’d been. Hearing about casualties was one thing. Looking people in the face, promising them you’d save them, then watching as the light faded from their eyes was something entirely different–something you couldn’t ever be ready for. He knew that as well as anyone else.

“It’s my fault.” You whimper into his shoulder. “My god, Katsuki. It’s all my fault.”

Bakugo tightens his grip on you. His dry cheek presses against your wet one, your hair ticking the edge of his nose as he grumbles into your ear.

“No it isn’t. You did what you could.”

You inhale once, then twice, then a third time, your entire body trembling. “And it wasn’t–”.

“Don’t finish that sentence.” Bakugo warns, leaving no room for argument.

And you don’t. You stand there, clinging to him, sniffling into his costume. When the brunt of it passes, neither of you move for a long time. He keeps his arms around your middle while you cling desperately to his neck.

Bakugo isn’t sure why he pulls his head back, but when he does, you do the same, staring up at him with puffy eyes. He breathes, long and drawn-out. His mind races.

Then, his lips are pressed to your forehead. He doesn’t know why the hell he does it–why he leans forward and kisses your skin like that. You were just standing there, looking upset and it felt like the right thing to do.

That’s what he tells himself.

But it was wrong. Bakugo knows that the moment he takes another look at your face. Your eyes have gone wide. Still wet with unshed tears, they watch him without blinking. Your lips trace imaginary words–probably questions. What was he doing? Why was he being so sweet? Where was the matchstick with the temper that tried your patience nearly every day?

He tries to look away, but your fingers tap at his neck, three times, demanding that he turn his attention back to you.  You’re staring, insistent.  Demanding answers.

This wasn’t right–now wasn’t the time. Not when you were a mess like this. The thought isn’t enough to keep him from hunching over again, stilling the frantic movement of your lips with his own. You gasp against his mouth, but don’t push him away. In fact, your arms constrict around him, pulling him in closer.

He’s not entirely sure how that makes him feel.

Phone call after phone call buzzes at his side, but Bakugo ignores all of them. Maybe it was one of his sidekicks checking in on him. Maybe it was the agency trying to convince him to do a press briefing. Maybe it was Kirishima, just making sure he wasn’t dead. Either way, answering would be a waste of what precious little time he had left.

Three hours–that’s how long it’d been since your phone started dropping calls. It’d been at least four hours since he’d heard from you last and six since he’d seen you with his own two eyes. If you’d been a civilian, he would’ve told anyone searching for you to go home–let the heroes handle it. Which was code for “they’re probably gone for good.” But you weren’t a civilian, and you couldn’t be gone. That wasn’t how this whole shit-show was supposed to go down. The two of you were partners, dammit. You were supposed to stick together–watch each other's backs. One of you couldn’t just go off and get killed without the other.

Right?

The thought makes Bakugo’s anxiety spike again, his hyperventilation returning. He braces himself against the first wall he finds. It belongs to some sort of warehouse, but he barely even notices. His main concern is calming the fuck down–trying to inhale and exhale without focusing on the fact that he might already be too late. He’s terrible at it.

Everything aches. His arms, his legs, his back, even his fucking mind. It’s a dull feeling, lingering. Agonizing and persistent. Not like a punch to the jaw, where you focus on it for a second then move on. With the added pressure of breathing, it’s almost too much.

Bakugo rams his fist into the wall, harder than he should. He can feel his knuckles crack on impact with the cement or concrete or whatever it was they used in buildings nowadays, but the sting that shoots through his fingers is welcome, a distraction from the rest of the pain and, more importantly, from his own morbid thoughts. It fades soon though.

He’s about to do it again–sacrifice more of his fingers to his own, temporary relief–then there’s a sound. It’s soft, like a pin dropping in a loud room. But something about it is familiar–too familiar.

Bakugo freezes, suddenly capable of holding his breath. He catches the back half of something–he can’t decide what–as it fades off into the ambient noise of the street. When he waits for a while and it doesn’t start back up, he smacks the wall again, sparing his fingers by using his palm this time.

Then, he presses his ear to the wall and listens. It begins again and his breath hitches involuntarily.  He was right–he knows this sound.

Tap, tap, tap.  Groups of three.  Faint and weaker than ever before, but unmistakable all the same.

The wall crumbles away with a couple hard hits.  Buildings weren’t supposed to do that–to splinter and crack like chalk.  No doubt your quirk had some part to play there.

Knowing that doesn’t stop heat from pulsing in his skull when he finds your heaving, broken body nestled into a spot that should’ve been filled with concrete.  Your limbs twisted at the wrong angles, eyes glazed over–open, but staring at nothing.  Even as he lifts you out of your hiding place, you barely react.  Quiet.  No wincing, no witty remarks.  Just shallow wheezing that grows weaker by the second.

“Breathe, dammit.”  Bakugo commands, grabbing you and sprinting towards the triage area.  “Come on, you need to breathe. In and out, remember?”

Each time your body stills–every moment your breathing falters for just a second–he finds himself holding his breath with you.  Counting the seconds, making sure you’re actually listening when he tells you to inhale. He wishes that were enough, wishes that staying alive was something you could just decide to do–like rewinding damage on an old wall or fixing a bad attitude with a well-timed right hook.

It wasn’t that easy; Bakugo wasn’t stupid enough to think that it was.  Still, even if it means babying you, monitoring each breath like he’s some sort of fucking life-support machine, he refuses to let you die.  Not now, not ever.  

You weren’t getting out of this gig that easily.  You were stuck–his partner for life, whether you wanted to be or not.

Sweat pours down his face as he ups his pace.

“I’ve got you–same as always.  Just keep breathing with me, okay?”

[uriurijihoonie]

🍃 things may seem repetitive but when i’m with you, they turn special + boo seungkwan

word count: 1,727

Seungkwan’s day consists of never-ending cycles about his life as an idol. It splits into three, though.

When it’s his day-off, he wakes up, do his assigned chores at the dorm, and spends his remaining day away with things he wants to do, may it be sleeping, fiddling with his phone or going out for shopping. 

When a concert’s fast approaching, he’d go on his day practicing non-stop from the moment he wakes up until he sleeps, the actual concert consisting of hopping along country to country.

And when it’s comeback season, his routine consists of getting up early, heading straight to the company building, learn the choreography, record his parts on every song, practice some more, and heading straight back to the dorms afterwards to sleep the remaining hours until he has to get up again and do the same thing once more.

Despite all these cycles of his daily life as an idol, never did Seungkwan once forgot to talk to you, in which it comes with own forms, too. 

Due to Seungkwan’s mornings going fast and on a rush, he sends you messages in forms of texts and chats. While on nights where life seemed to slow down after a long day, Seungkwan calls you, despite how hushed and raspy his voice was due to him singing all day, and it still remains as your favorite sound to hear that always lull you to a calm, peaceful sleep.

“You can text me at nights when you’re too tired, you know,” you pouted, concern filling your voice, seeing how your sleepy yet adorable boyfriend stifled a yawn on the other side of the monitor.

“I can’t, this is the only time I’ll ever get to see you,” Seungkwan returned your pout, making you chuckle.

“You look really tired, though. And it’s past one AM already; we should sleep.”

“Nooo, I still want to talk to you.”

“Kwannie.”

“Babyyyy,” his whiny pout turned into a grin when he saw your faux stern look crumbling, making you sigh, “Fine, five more minutes.”

What consisted of the five minutes you had with Seungkwan were all hushed giggles and laughs about something that happened to both of your days. It’s in these late-night talks Seungkwan looks forward to every day; a time with you.

“Good night, Kwannie,” you cooed right after you yawned. You made a kissy face and littered the whole screen, seeing how Seungkwan crunched his nose in fake disgust but then pouted.

“I really wish I could kiss you, Y/N. I miss you so much,” longing and a slight touch of sadness can be heard on Seungkwan’s voice, and you can’t help but get sad, too.

“I miss you too, baby. I love you.” You hid under the covers, afraid you’ll get too emotional. 

“I love you too, baby-- hey, are you crying?” Seungkwan neared his phone on his face to get a better look at you, but you were fast enough to push your phone away and say, “I’m not! Good night Kwannie!”

You didn’t want to hang up on him like that, but before you could get more emotional and cry yourself to sleep, an idea popped into your mind.

Getting your phone closer to you once again, you looked for a certain contact name and asked a question to that certain person, hoping they accept your request.

After replying to Seungkwan’s message (worried because you abruptly turned off your video  call earlier), you got an affirmative message from the person earlier, making you sleep with a smile on your face.

-

“Good job, everyone! Twenty minutes break then we’ll polish the first part,” Soonyoung announced right after the track finished playing. Every member replied an “okay” and scattered around, some lying on the floor and the couch, and others immediately went to the dispenser and chug some water.

Right then, a knock resonated on the whole practice room and Seungcheol was the first one to stand up, while others didn’t pay much attention.

“I told you it’s not necessary to bring a lot but you still did,” said Seungcheol.

“Ah it’s alright, I got help from one of the managers,” your voice made everyone perk up to the door and they see you, carrying bags of what seemed like food.

“Y/N!” Almost all of them shouted, making Seungkwan sit abruptly on the couch he’d been resting on, seeing your figure enter the room. 

“Y/N?!”  Seungkwan’s booming voice was what made you look up and scanned the whole room despite the bunch of hungry ‘wolves’ crowding on what you brought. You grinned so wide when you saw him approaching you, moving your way across the other boys and enveloping Seungkwan into a tight hug when you reached him.

“Hi baby,” you whispered beneath his ear, as you feel his arms wrap tighter around your waist.

You both stayed like that for a while, ignoring some hoots and teases you got from his members, then Seungkwan pulled away, looking at you as if he cannot believe you’re already in his arms’ reach, “What brings you here? Do you have any classes today? How did you--”

You cut him off with a swift peck on his lips, grinning as you poke his cheeks, “Why, is it bad to surprise my hardworking boyfriend and send him support?”

“Of course not! I’m... I’m just surprised that you did this for me; surprising me and all,” Seungkwan trailed off, looking at you like you’re really an angel sent from above just for him.

He knows he has a lot of shortcomings, still seeking an answer on how you agreed to have a relationship with him because he’s an idol and there’s a lot that comes with his life, yet you agreed and stayed.

You narrowed your eyes, somehow reading in his eyes what he’s feeling. “You deserve to be surprised with how hardworking you are, Kwannie, and I missed you.”

Seungkwan sighed, running his fingers through your hair, and before your lips could get to meet, Seokmin’s voice interrupted your bubble, “Do you guys still want to eat real food or...”

“Shut up, Seokmin-hyung, you’re just bitter because yours doesn’t visit often!” Seungkwan clapped back, making you laugh as he held your hand, dragging you to the circle of boys devouring your food.

-

“How were you allowed to come here baby, by the way?” Seungkwan lifted his head from your shoulder, looking at you whilst you didn’t bother moving your eyes away from your phone.

“Ah, I contacted Seungcheol-oppa if I’m allowed to visit and he said yes so...” You looked at him who’s beside you, then smiled, “I’m here.”

Seungkwan hummed and went back into leaning on your shoulder, intertwining your hand that was not using the phone with his. “Thank you for coming, Y/N. Really, I appreciate it.”

You smiled, brushing his hand with your thumb, “Anything for you, Kwannie.” You put your phone back on your lap, your now free hand holding your intertwined hands. “You know I always got you, and I’ll always be your support whenever you need one.”

“I don’t really deserve you,” Seungkwan whined, hiding his face in the spaces between your neck and shoulder, making you laugh as your other hand went to his face, tapping his cheeks lightly as if cooing a baby, and stroke is hair.

You were in that position for a few moments when Soonyoung called back for practice, and as much as you also want the both of you to stay like that for a while, you had to be the one to urge Seungkwan to go back to practice.

“Come on, Kwannie, stand up and practice, or else they won’t allow me here anymore,” you reasoned, and never did Kwannie stand up so fast and went to his position, making you chuckle and gave him a flying kiss, which is he replied with a fake, disgusted face (which you knew he was just kidding) and proceed to smile and give you a kissy face.

You stayed for the whole duration of their practice, and you got to tag along with Seungkwan as he went to Jihoon’s studio when he needs to re-record his part of a certain song.

When it’s their break, Seungkwan is quick to go to your side and either rest his head on your shoulder or lap, but sometimes, when Soonyoung and Seokmin starts getting hyped up over some random song played, Seungkwan stands up, joining the fun, sometimes dragging you along with him in the process.

For you, you were really happy to spend time with Seungkwan like this; you always see his idol self on-cam and on-stage, and this rare case of watching him and his group behind the scenes was such a change.

Being in a relationship with an idol, for the first part, it’s a dream come true, but it’s not all flowers and sunshine and rainbows; being in a relationship with an idol is more than that, and you were ready to take on anything.

It was slightly past three in the morning when everyone finished, and as Seungkwan came to the couch to fetch you, he found you sound asleep, his hoodie that you borrowed now draped on your legs, your phone in your hand, still playing a random video.

“Aish, this baby,” he shook his head, thinking on what to do with you. He doesn’t have the heart to wake you up so he did what he thinks would be the best; Seungkwan gently took a space beside you out on the couch and cuddled into you.

His smile widened when you snuggled closer to him, your hand clutching his shirt gently. When you did, it feels as if his tiredness, lack of sleep and aching muscles fade away.

Seungkwan looked back at what happened today; it was all the same routine he’d done when comeback is approaching. It's a really long day and he’s suppose to video call you tonight but there you were, cramped up with him in the couch. 

Though his idol life may be tiring and takes a toll on him at times, he’s contented and he’s happy, for Seungkwan, his life is beautiful, but it’s at its most beautiful when Seungkwan is with you and right now, being in your arms is the most beautiful part of his day.

lyrics prompt open! send in a song line + member!

[glitterandmoondustofficial]

Side To Side

Chapter 164: Old Pine

Notes: Characters: Shachi, Ruby, Law, Penguin Rating: Teen Warnings: Depression, Language Notes: Originally, this was going to be two chapters, but I cut some stuff out and edited it so it would flow better as one. Full Story

~~~~~

Shachi stared at Ruby’s shaking hands. He sighed. She may be getting better, but she was still shaky. She still wasn’t sleeping through the night. He watched her fail spectacularly at braiding her hair, clenching her fist as it fell apart.

“Alright,” he spoke up. “I’ll do it.”

Ruby looked over and Shachi almost felt bad for her. He stood up from his bed and walked over to her. “Do what?”

“I’m going to braid your hair.” He pushed her aside and say behind her on her bed. “Don’t complain and don’t fight.”

“You’re just here to lecture me.”

“No, I’m also here to braid your hair.” He gently tugged at it. “But yes, I’m here to lecture you.” Ruby sighed and deflated. “You need to pull yourself together. With Law trying to figure out his brain, you’re the main person for our defense.” She didn’t answer. “I feel for you, Ruby, but you need to be a person again.”

“I am a person.”

“You’re not acting like one. You’re acting so dependent on one person you’ve practically lost yourself. Just because what you’re going through is painful, doesn’t mean you don’t need to pull yourself together. You’re supposed to be independent and confident. You strike fear in men’s hearts when they hear your heels!”

“I’m hardly that person anymore,” she spoke up. “I’m not intimidating and I can’t wear heels for more than a couple hours anymore. You know as well as I do that my confidence was mostly a front.”

“Except when it wasn’t.” Ruby sighed and he let go of her hair. “You shouldn’t lose your personality because of a break up.”

“It wasn’t…” she sighed sadly. “I know.” She pulled away from him. “But I still miss him.” She brought her knees up to her chest and sniffed. “I think if it was an actual break up it would be easier.”

“You think?” She shrugged. “I don’t think so. In this scenario, you can start over, if it was a break up then there wouldn’t be the chance.”

“That’s what makes it hard. I don’t want to hope that it’ll just happen again because what if it doesn’t?”

“Guess you’ll have to find out.” He patted her head and got out of her bed. “First step is to be yourself.” She rolled her eyes. “Right let me phrase that better. Be your own human again. Be a person who has a personality and more feelings than depression and insomnia.” Shachi placed his fists on his hips. “Not just for the sake of your relationship status, so you can be happy with yourself again.” Ruby was silent. She didn’t move either. Shachi sighed sadly. “I don’t want you to get so depressed that you start to hate yourself again.” Ruby sniffed.

“I know,” she squeaked. “I’m so frustrated with myself.” She sighed roughly.

“I know.” He petted her hair. “You’ll figure it out.”

He hoped she did at least.

~~~~~

“You’ve been staring into space for 20 minutes now,” Shachi said and Law blinked.

“Have I?”

“Yes, I’ve kept track.” Law groaned. “What’s on your mind?”

“Besides the obvious?”

“If you say that Ruby’s on your mind, I’ll smack you.”

“Okay.” He smacked him anyway. “Oi!”

“Stop worrying about her. Worry about yourself, you love-struck asshole.”

“I’m not love-struck, I’m worried about my crew member. It’s my job.”

“Just focus on yourself. There’s no point in worrying about someone who’s more than capable of taking care of herself.” Law grumbled something and Shachi sighed. “You clearly need a break.”

“From?”

“Everything. Look, Bepo said we’re close to an island. We’re going to take you out.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“Yes it is. You don’t need to get back into your habit of ignoring your health, again.”

“I’ve never-”

“Bullshit,” Shachi interrupted him. “You don’t take care of yourself and you ignore your own advice. You’ve gotten better about it, but that doesn’t mean that you’ve stopped. We’re taking you out, whether you like it or not.”

“That’s the opposite of making me feel better.”

“Too bad.” Shachi gave him a toothy grin. Law scoffed and rolled his eyes, but he had already given in. Good. It would’ve been a pain in the ass to actually have to drag him out of the sub.

~~~~~

“So then,” Shachi laughed. “You drank is both under the table, since you always have to be right.” Law smirked and took a sip of his beer. “Well, I suppose losing your memory could be worse. You could’ve totally forgot all of us.”

“That’s true enough,” Law sighed. “I do appreciate you guys taking me out tonight, afterall.”

“We’re nakama aren’t we? We want your memories back, too.” Penguin said. “And if you don’t, well,” he shrugged. “You’re still our beloved captain.” Law snorted and took another sip. “What else do you want to know? We can keep telling you fun stories, too.”

“I don’t mind,” he smirked. “I just need to…”

“Get used to it?”

“Find your bearings?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Well that’s what we’re here for,” Penguin picked up his glass and held it up. Shachi followed suit and they tapped their glasses together, and Law did the same. He let himself relax. Things didn’t have to be so anxiety ridden. He was surrounded by his nakama , and they would help him in any way they could.

Law heard a snort followed by light laughter. He looked over and felt his heart speed up.

“Oh, hey. Ikkaku managed to convince Ruby to come out,” Shachi said fondly. Law looked at the four women of his crew and Jean Bart converse. He swallowed when Ruby moved hair behind her ear. She looked nice. He actually recognized that dress, the white one where she said it wouldn’t suit her because of her arms. She did end up looking nice in it, after all.

Jean Bart handed Ruby a soda and she grinned at him. Law hadn’t seen her look this relaxed in some time. She looked better. He hoped that over time she would return to her usual self. He didn’t like seeing her depressed. Shachi cleared his throat and Law looked over to the two grinning idiots at his table (Bepo looked clueless).

“What?”

“You’re love-struck,” Shachi snickered. Law scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Hey, it's a good thing! Why don’t you buy her a drink?” Penguin suggested. “It wouldn’t hurt to get to know her, uh, again.” Law shook his head and drank from his bottle.

“This is the first time that I’ve seen her look not completely depressed,” he said. Law studied her for a moment. She had makeup on, but he could still see the bruising under her eyes. That smile wasn’t one of her bright ones, but a tired one. She was still depressed, no matter how good she looked. No matter how badly he wanted to buy her a drink and talk to her. “If she can relax for a moment, then…”

“As I said, love-struck.” Law rolled his eyes and looked at Ruby for a moment more, before turning his attention back to the table.

~~~~~

“Law,” Ruby blinked at him. “What are you doing here?”

“Don’t I usually check up on everyone? Did I stop that?” He stared at her confused.

She shook her head. “Uh, no. I guess I just wasn’t thinking about it,” she wiped her forehead with the back of her dirty hand.

“There’s dirt on your forehead.”

“Ah, crap,” she sighed and walked towards her sink. She turned on the water and shoved her hands under it. “So, what can I do for you?”

“I need an update on everything you’re working on and I wanted to see how you were doing.”

“Well,” she shook her hands dry before grabbing a hand towel. “As of right now, I’m primarily growing broccoli and oranges.”

“For immune systems?”

“Yup,” she grinned. “Also, I’m probably going to switch out some plants around the sub, but that’s unimportant,” she waved her hands. “As far as how I’m doing, I’m fine.”

“Which is why Penguin has said you’re still not sleeping?” Her grin stayed on her face.

“I’m fine,” she repeated. Her face was tight and unflinching, and Law felt his heart squeeze. She still didn’t feel comfortable consoling in him.

“I’m your doctor,” he tried. “Your health is important to me.”

“I’m not sick,” she chuckled. “And my foot is fine.”

“You’re not sleeping, that’s cause for concern.”

“Law,” she sighed with a tired smile. “Don’t worry over me. You have enough on your plate to deal with than my sleeping patterns.” She threw the hand towel in a bin and he sighed.

“You still have dirt on your forehead.”

“Oh!” She grabbed the hand towel from the bin and wiped her forehead. Law stared at her as she cleaned her face.

Law stared at the monitors boredly. His crew had unanimously agreed that he wasn’t allowed to do more than check ups and control room duty. It was so boring. He hadn’t lost his skills, just his memories. He watched each screen. Clione prepping dinner, Ikkaku in the boiler room, Ruby was in the common room messing with a plant.

He watched her drop her watering can and sigh. Law frowned as her hand shook. She grabbed it tightly with her other hand and took a deep breath. She kneeled down and picked up the watering can. She tried to pour water on her fig tree but nothing came out. She shook it desperately over and over until she threw it to the side roughly, severely denting the metal. She breathed heavily for a moment before crumbling to the ground and covering her face with her hands.

Law felt his heart squeeze as she dissolved into sobs. He was glad he couldn’t hear her and he wasn’t brave enough to turn on the audio. Every ounce of his body screamed at him to go and comfort her, but he didn’t move. He was sure that if he did go, he could only make it worse. His memory loss was the reason for her distress.

Suddenly Bepo rushed in with an incredibly worried expression. He kneeled down beside her and started to pet her hair. Ruby hugged him, finally revealing the desperation and pain on her face. She cried into the Mink and Law stood up, no longer willing to watch her break down.

“Ruby,” he called her quietly and she looked up from the hand towel. “Don’t hesitate to come to me for anything.” She stared at him curiously for a moment before sighing with a sad smile. “I am your friend.”

“I know.” She looked down at the towel. “Thank you, Law. I’ll come to you if I need to.”

“Good.” He checked his watch. “I’ll leave you to it, then.” Ruby continued to smile as she nodded.

“See you later, captain,” echoed down the hall, along with his footsteps, as he walked away.

[sae-bae-ran]

hi~ first off i love your works, second could you maybe do a RFA+Saeran+Vanderwood scenario where they find out that MC is depressed/self harms? I’m going through stuff and I’d like to imagine what they would do to help me feel better.. Again love your stuff!

Thank you so much for your kind words! I’m happy to hear you love my writing! ^^

I want you to know that I’m always here if you need to talk to someone! Sometimes talking to someone you don’t know well can help a lot. You’re not alone, never forget that!

Masterlist || Ko-fi

RFA + Saeran and Vanderwood reacting to an MC who is depressed/self-harms

As the title suggests, this post will address sensitive subjects, so read at your own discretion.

Hyun Ryu // Zen

“Now you know.” You voice holds strength you never knew you could muster, but deep inside you feel your soul crumbling to dust as you watch his eyes widen at the sight of the deep scars on your skin.

He takes a step towards you, but stops, afraid his touch and comfort might not be welcome right now. Still, seeing him like this, so different from the always smiling and outgoing Zen, tugs at your heartstrings.

“You did this. You did this to him. Look at how miserable you made him feel!” The voice at the back of your head gets stronger, feeding on the memories of your past that start flooding your mind. Telling the truth frees you. That’s something you’ve heard too many times, but why do you still feel trapped in the cage of your own struggles?

“Ah, I knew it. I’m sorry. The scars… I shouldn’t have told you. I shouldn’t have showed you. You must think I’m ugly, in and out.“ Knees starting to buckle, voice breaking, you gather all your strength just to keep yourself from falling into the dark pit of despair dug by your own mind as you desperately try to button up your shirt.

“That’s not it!” His voice is loud as he finally closes the distance between you two. His hands grab yours, fingers frantically moving on your skin to draw intangible figures. “That’s not it at all, MC! I love you… I love you so much and I think you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met!”

His fingers move up your arms and then onto your belly to caress your scars, his gentle touch leaving a faint, soothing trail in its wake. “I’m here for you. Always have and always will.” As his arms wrap tightly around your body, you let yourself surrender to his light.

Yoosung

“Please… Just leave me alone.” Your desperate plea is met with a deafening silence broken only by Yoosung’s sharp inhales. “I just don’t want you to see me like this. Please… Just go.”

You feel weak. Too weak to move from your curled up position on the bed. Too weak to argue. Too weak to let tears relieve your pain. Too weak and indifferent to everything around you.

You hear him move, his steps hasty as he heads towards the door, leaving you all alone. Your mind wanders to dark places, making you feel even emptier and you wonder if that’s even possible in the first place.

The mattress dips under his weight and a moment later you feel his slender arms around you, pulling you close to his chest. “No!” His voice sounds firm and resolute, even though you feel his lips trembling against the back of your neck. “I don’t want to leave, MC! I… I might not know exactly what you’ve gone through, I might not know the pain you’ve experienced…”

As he lets his tears flow freely, burning your skin as soon as they make contact with it, you feel your own starting to prick your eyes. “But I want to understand! I want to be with you! I care for you and I want to help you! Please, let me be here for you!”

His arms tighten around your waist, making you feel the sobs racking his body in their full strength. As tears start flowing down your cheeks, their bitter taste familiar on your lips, you uncurl your fingers and slowly move your hands to meet his. For the first time in a while, you don’t feel alone.

Jaehee

“I can’t answer the phone right now. Leave a message and I’ll call you later! Teehee!” Your voice is cheerful as it sends Jaehee to your voicemail for the umpteenth time today. With a sharp sigh, she quickens her pace as she makes her way through the crowd. With some good luck, she’ll be at your place in less than half an hour.

You can’t get up. And what’s the point, really? There’s nothing you feel like doing, nothing that would make you or anyone else smile. Nothing you’re good at. You’d at least get to the kitchen and grab something to eat, but lately your appetite has all but been gone. Your eyelids grow heavy as you slowly turn to your side. At least no one judges me in my sleep, you think to yourself as you drift off to slumber.

Jaehee’s always been someone who plans ahead, but for the first time in her life she feels such immense gratitude for her foresight. Had she not made you give her the spare key to your place, she would probably have waited days for you to open the door. With no trouble getting the key in the look, even with her hands shaking nervously, she bursts into your apartment.

“MC?” Hesitantly, you open your eyes. As they slowly adjust to the light of the day, you feel someone’s warm hand caressing your cheek. Smiling tenderly, a familiar face is looking at you with watery eyes. “… Jae..hee?”

With a relieved sigh, she moves her free hand to wipe away the telltale signs of her worries that have started to spill from her eyes. “I… I was so afraid something might have happened to you. “

In a fit of overwhelming guilt, you turn your head to the side, refusing to meet her gaze. “MC, I’ve known you for a while now. I was struck by your easygoing personality and great kindness, but I can tell you haven’t been the same lately.”

She pauses for a second to take a deep breath in and adjust her position on your bed. As her hand resumes its gentle caresses on your cheek, she continues. “I want you to know I’ll be there for you no matter what. I care about you, MC. Unconditionally.”

Jumin

“Do you not like it, love?” His gift, a beautiful black dress, fitted and sleeveless, lies sprawled on the bed, mocking you. Unfortunately, you don’t find the twisted sense of humor of some simple fabric funny, so you turn around to face Jumin, unknowingly standing in the midst of the ghosts of your past.

Taking a deep breath in, you let your mind calm down a bit before you give him an answer. “It’s a beautiful dress, Jumin… But I’m not gonna wear it. I’m sorry.” He gives you a quick nod, but you catch a hint of sadness crossing his face before ultimately disappearing into nothingness, covered up by his composure. “I understand.” His movements are controlled as he folds the dress, the corners of his lips curving up into a slightly forced smile.

“No. You deserve to know exactly why I don’t want to wear it.” With another deep breath, you start rolling up the sleeves of your shirt, revealing the thick scars on your forearms. The dress falls out of Jumin’s hands as his mind processes the sight in front of him, his eyes wide.

“We’ve been dating for a while and… and you should know about this. I went through something really, really horrible.. and…and that was the only way I could cope with it…” Your voice starts breaking as memories of your recent past flood your vision, making you feel the heavy weight of pain and guilt once again.

Strong arms wrap around you tightly, grounding you to the present moment. “It’s okay, love. I understand.” He pulls away to cup your cheeks, gaze focused on your eyes. “You are strong, my love, but you don’t have to handle this on your own. I want to help you, if you’ll allow me to. Nothing matters more to me than you and your well-being. Don’t ever forget that.”

As you let his words sink in, you feel a wave of relief washing over you. You’re not alone. Not anymore.

707 // Luciel // Saeyoung

“You’re not the only one with a goofy happy-go-lucky mask on, you know?” Angry tears start spilling down your cheeks as your yelling fills the room. His eyes widen and his fingers stop in the midst of typing yet another complicated line of code.

Gaze still focused on his screen, he opens his mouth in an attempt to say something, anything, but his efforts fall short. Still afraid to look at you, afraid to come to terms with what you just said, he starts typing again, shaking his head in disbelief.

“No. No. You’re happy, outgoing, and loved, MC. For real. You’re not pretending. You’re not like me…” Voice breaking, he throws his laptop on the ground. To hell with it. He’ll just buy another one. Things are replaceable. People aren’t. As he finally gathers the courage to look at you, he feels warm tears dampening the skin of his cheeks. “Please… Please tell me you’re not like me.”

Your voice refuses to come out, instead making way to muffled sobs. Gaze cast down, you embrace yourself in an attempt to keep your mind and body from crumbling, fingers digging holes into the skin of your arms.

You hear him move and a moment later his hands are on your face. “MC… I’m so sorry.” Ashamed of your sudden confession, you refuse to look at him, instead clenching your eyes even more tightly.

“I had no idea you’ve gone through so much pain, MC.” His lips move on your face frantically, leaving light pecks in their wake. Releasing yourself from your own tight grip, you lean towards Saeyoung, hands moving up to clutch onto his hoodie like a drowning man at a straw.

When he finally feels like he’s covered the whole surface of your face with soft kisses, he lets his forehead rest on yours. “Whenever you’re ready to talk about it, I’ll be there to listen. I promise, MC. I promise.”

Ray // Unknown // Saeran

The delicate fragrance of roses fills his nostrils as soon as he walks out the door. Back facing him, you’re sitting cross-legged on the ground, arms firmly placed behind you to support the weight of your body. A sight so serene, it elicits a light chuckle from him.

As he gets closer to you, the soft smile on his face fades away. The sleeves of your shirt have gone slightly up your arms, revealing a sight that makes Saeran’s chest tighten with immeasurable pain.

Slowly, he sits down next to you, mimicking your position. “What is it, darling?” You try to engage him in a conversation, but to no avail. His expression is unreadable as he sits in silence next to you, making all kinds of bad thoughts cross your mind.

After a couple more minutes, he clears his throat and looks at you. “MC, are you… are you feeling okay?” You’re quick to place your hands in your lap, fiddling with the sleeves of your shirt to make sure they’re covering your secret. 

Gently, he grabs one of your hands. “I saw them. I saw the scars.” Too used to this type of conversations, you laugh his worries off. “Oh, honey. You know I’ve been working a lot in the garden lately. I just lost a couple of battles against some rose bushes. That’s it. “

His grip on your hand tightens, prompting you to look at him, his eyes watery. “I understand why you’ve resorted to this coping mechanism. Believe me, MC, I understand. But… “ His free hand moves up to cover his face as his tears start flowing down his cheeks. “I want you to talk to me about it. Tell me how you feel. Tell me about what you’ve been going through.”

Biting your lips, you make a futile attempt to stop your own tears from falling. As he sees your reaction, Saeran moves closer to you, pulling you into a tight embrace. “I’m not gonna judge you. So please… Let’s talk about it. Let me help you. You’re not alone.” Sobs start wracking your body and you find your hands clutching at his shirt. “Not anymore.”

Jihyun Kim // V

“We regret to inform you that our organization will not be pursuing your candidacy for this position. We thank you for your interest…” Ah, what’s with all the job rejection letters these days? The same words, as if taken from the same site for templates, repeated in the last… you don’t even know how many emails anymore, stare at you from the screen, mocking your inability to land a job.

Who would want to hire you anyway? You’re worthless. You’re not good at anything and people can see that. Tears start pricking your eyes at the words of that persistent voice at the back of your head. Hard work doesn’t always pay off, it seems. As you let the glaring realization sink in, loud sobs start wracking your body.

Driven by a gut feeling, V hurries home, heart rate picking up as he thinks about you. The signs were subtle at first, but he noticed anyway. Lack of appetite, oversleeping, loss of interest in all the activities you used to enjoy. He’s not the epitome of healthy habits and his own wounds are still healing, but he’s not letting you face your trauma alone.

Back slouched over the desk, you let your head fall on the sturdy surface. Your tears fall ceaselessly down your cheeks, forming a small puddle of sorrow and regrets right next to your laptop. As you feel another wave of pain coursing through your body, slender arms wrap around your form tightly.

“It’s okay. It’s all gonna be okay, MC.” He pulls away for a second to plant a gentle, lingering kiss on your head, your hair soft under the touch of his lips. His gaze falls on the screen of the laptop, the job rejection letter still open in the browser.

Turning your chair around so he could look at you, he grabs your face, gaze resolute as it falls on your red eyes. “You are the strongest person I know, MC. Don’t let this setback trigger what you fought so hard to overcome. I’m here for you. You can get through this.” He leans in to let his forehead touch yours, his thumbs drawing circles on your cheeks. “I’ll be there for you every step of the way.”

Vanderwood

The sound of glass shattering to numerous pieces fills the room as soon as the vase makes contact with the wall. You’re angry, so angry, at everyone, everything, at the whole world… And above all, at yourself. At your own helplessness.

The pieces of shattered glass lie on the floor, glimmering under the moonlight that’s sliding in through the curtains. Their soft glow is almost otherworldly, alluring, hypnotizing, and you find yourself on your knees, a particularly big piece of glass in your hand.

Slowly, you roll up the sleeves of your shirt, revealing the sight of all your previously inflicted scars. You run your fingers over them, gently, as if careful not to disturb their peace, pondering over the meaning of all these sensations swirling around throughout your whole body.

You’re all too familiar with both physical and mental pain. To you, they’re connected to each other, coexisting. One follows the other in an endless, vicious cycle that you don’t know how to break.

As you feel your body going numb, you ready the piece of glass in your hand, but just when you’re about to slide it over your delicate skin, someone’s strong arms stop you. “Don’t. Please.”

Vanderwood’s voice is low, but clear, and you feel your grip on the glass loosening under his touch. With a sharp sound, it falls on the ground, breaking into two new pieces.

He pulls you towards his chest and you let the smell of leather, cigarettes, and mint, so unique to him, fill your lungs, soothing you in the process. “Talk to me. I’ll listen.” His embrace tightens even more around your body as he lets his cheek rest on the top of your head. “And I’ll help you cope with your pain. Let me do it. Please.”

[myshuagger]

on love: comfort

words: 1.9k genre: angsty fluff...? warnings: self-doubt, insecure reader, unbeta-ed

“you whisper reassuring words / and everything falls into place”

The first time Joshua mentions his plans of going abroad, it catches you off guard. You know he’s been looking at courses and internships in other countries, but you didn’t think he would be too serious about it. At least not that soon. So, when he mentions it over dinner at your apartment one night, you almost choke on your drink. He rushes to your side, worried expression, his soft voice asking if you’re okay.

“Are you sure about it?” You want to be supportive, encourage him to do it. Somehow you can’t find it in yourself to say anything else. He goes back to his seat, and scratches his neck with something that looks like nervousness. You wonder how long it took him to even bring it up and you feel bad about your initial reaction.

Forcing yourself to smile, you grab his hand and encourage him to tell you more about it. Joshua starts to talk about how he applied to a few companies for an internship but didn’t think they would contact him back. How he was so surprised when one of them actually did. He tells you about how perfect it is that the company is located in Korea and that he can stay with his relatives for a few months. You bite back your comments, maintain your smile. Try to push away the fact that he didn’t tell you he had applied for something already.

You’re so deep in thought by the end of his explanation that he has to give your hand a soft squeeze to get your attention. You look at him, eyes filled with hesitation. Questions and worries you can’t really voice start to strangle your throat. Joshua seems to notice because he holds your hand tighter.

“I won’t do it if you don’t want me to.” His voice is barely a whisper.

Suddenly you feel like the worst person ever because you know he means it. But who are you to hold him back like that, after seeing how excited he got talking about it. You release a deep sigh, run your thumb over his knuckles in an attempt to calm yourself. You smile again, less forced this time.

“You should do it.”

Joshua smiles back at you, brings your hand up to give it a small kiss. He whispers again, words of adoration and love leaving his lips. You’ve never had a long distance relationship but you’re willing to try for his sake.

__

Saying you’re worried is an understatement, in reality you’re one step away from panicking.

The couple of months after Joshua told you about his future internship abroad were relatively calm. Mostly because the whole ordeal hadn’t felt real. You still struggled with balancing your classes and work, still went out with Joshua at least twice a week and he kept living more at your apartment than at his own. Things were normal for the most part. So it doesn’t really dawn on you that he’s leaving until the night before his flight.

And that’s exactly where you were right now. Watching him as he finishes packing and thinking about the future of your relationship.

“What if you find someone else?” You voice out, anxiety fully present in your tone and tears threatening to fall. Joshua stops folding a shirt and turns around to look at you, muttering a confused what.

“I-I mean,” your voice cracks and you have to take a second before continuing, “if you fall in love with someone else, would you tell me?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he crosses the room in big strides and embraces you. Your arms immediately hold onto him as if he would disappear if you let go. His shirt is wet from your tears and you feel like you’ll crumble under his touch.

You usually handle this kind of situations better. Even if you get insecure every now and then, it has never been enough to doubt his love for you. However, this is the first time you’re going to be so far away from each other since you two started to date.

“That won’t happen, you know why?” Joshua pulls away from you just enough to see your face. Both of his thumbs run softly through your cheeks, trying to get rid of your tears. He puts your foreheads together and locks his gaze with yours before whispering, “because I love you and only you.”

You start to babble about everything and nothing at the same time. Insecurities pouring out of your mouth in hurried sentences. You try to tell him it’s okay if he finds someone else while he’s away. Say something along the lines of not being good enough for him anyway. Joshua interrupts you with a kiss. His lips silencing your small sobs.

You spend the rest of the night cuddling and whispering how much you’ll miss each other.

__

“Hey, do you want to go on a double date this weekend?”

You lift your head from the paperwork in front of you and frown. Your coworker stands in front of your desk, expectant smile and hopeful eyes. Although you go out with the people at your work every now and then, this is the first time one of them invites you on something more personal than a group outing. Why escapes your lips without really meaning to.

“You’ve been kinda gloomy after you broke up with your boyfriend,” your coworker answers right away and it makes your frown deepen. “So I thought it would be a good idea for you to meet someone.”

“I didn’t break up with Joshua.” Your voice comes out sharper than you intended to but you don’t really care. To be honest, you’re a bit angry that your coworker made assumptions about your relationship status. While it may be true that you’ve been somewhat down since he left a few weeks ago, you two decided on trying to make your relationship work. Despite him being in a whole different continent.

Your coworker looks surprised by the new information. Hums in a way that makes you think you should have just rejected the invitation without saying anything. “What if he finds someone else while he’s away?”

You try your best not to slam your hands on the desk and leave the room. Instead, you take a deep breath and rub at your temple. Saying that possibility left your mind the night you voiced it to Joshua would be a lie. You’ve been finding yourself thinking about it every other day, especially when your boyfriend can’t find the time to call you. (He always apologizes the day after. Makes an effort to leave small voice notes for you to wake up to and stay longer the next time he calls you. On those days, you receive twice as much I love you’s from him.)

It makes you angry that your coworker is not the first person to bring up that point. A few of your friends and even your relatives have shared this concern with you. It doesn’t matter how many times you keep telling them it won’t happen, that you trust Joshua’s word. Everyone seems to keep doubting your relationship. They say that distance can change a person, how love sometimes is just not strong enough. What angers you the most is that, on bad days, you end up giving up into that mindset as well.

You bite down on you lip and take a deep breath before answering: “I trust him.”

Your coworker sighs and turns around muttering something about nothing being certain. You go back to your paperwork and try to think about something else.

__

You’re laying in bed wearing one of Joshua’s shirts when he calls you. You contemplate whether or not to answer for a little too long you end up missing it. Maybe you’ll send him a quick message telling him that you’re tired and not really in the mood to talk. Apologize by saying it’s been a rough week and you would rather go straight to sleep. The screen of your phone glows again with a message from him that you don’t look at. It’s not that you don’t want to talk to him. Rather, it would be better to say you’re scared to. Afraid that you might say too much.

It’s been over a week since you two last talked and your anxiety and self-doubt have been eating you since them. You know he feels bad about not calling, his constant texts tell you as much, and you’re not really mad at him for it. But the things other people keep repeating to you over and over were slightly harder to ignore this past week. You tried to keep them at bay, ignore them as best as you could. And perhaps if Joshua had called you before you wouldn’t be feeling this bad.

You shake your head in disapproval of your own thoughts. After all, it’s not his fault that he’s busy. The time difference certainly doesn’t help improve the situation.

Your phone lights up again as you start to think maybe this whole long distance thing wasn’t a good idea. You make the mistake of opening his texts by accident when your hand hits your phone and curse under your breath. Now Joshua will know you’re actually awake. Not even a minute goes by before you have another message asking if everything’s alright.

Of course it’s not alright, it’s what you think while you put an arm over your eyes. You want to silence the bad thoughts in your head, want him with you to hug your insecurities away. Most of all, you want to just run away from everything.

Perhaps love was actually not enough. Curse everyone else and their mothers for being right.

A different sound makes you pay attention to your phone. Joshua is video calling you this time, his last resource when you don’t answer his texts because he knows the notification sound annoys you.

The first thing you see when you answer is his expression as he lets out a sigh of relief. However, this is quickly replaced with concern once he sees you.

“Love, are you okay?! Why are you crying?!”

Your eyes tear up more at the use of the cheesy nickname. A few seconds after, you break into uncontrollable sobs. You can’t stand how much you miss him, or the way other people underestimate your relationship. Can’t stand how easily their words influence your mood, your bad thoughts that never seem to go away. You tell him all of this. Wonder if he can understand you at all, given the mess you are right now.

When you look up after your outburst, you see he’s also crying.

“You have no idea how much I miss you,” he tries to wipe away his tears before continuing. He fails. “I would give anything to have you in my arms right now.”

It’s strangely comforting to see him in the same state as you. Sharing the same kind of emotions. You wipe you own tears and stifle a laugh when he whispers something about being a mess and not being able to stop his tears. He starts to tell you about how much he misses you, how every little thing reminds him of you. The times he’s had a rough day and wishes for nothing more than having you fingers run through his hair. All the things you didn’t notice he wasn’t telling you in hopes of easing you burden.

You talk for hours after that. Quiet whispers filling you room as if he was lying next to you. End up falling asleep to the sound of his sweet voice.

Somehow, when you wake up the next morning, everything falls into place.

[baldtaelovemaze]

Love me for me (1)

What kind of love story starts with two people locked in a classroom and ends with the two same people in a courtroom? This one. After unfortunate circumstances, Venice is forced to illegally change her identity and live as a boy in a all boys school.

She planned everything out. Every. Single.detail. but no matter how much she tries, she can’t stop herself from falling for the son of one of the biggest lawyers.

Is loving the man of her dreams worth  years in jail?

Reader (OC) X jungkook ft.Taehyung

Warnings: mature language

Words: 3k

"Dear Miss. Abass, unfortunately, your demand at Yale University has been Rejected-"

“fuck” 

Orbs clouded, I rip apart the letter. The torn cream pieces dance with the wind my fan generates and I watch them gracefully fall to the floor, blending perfectly with the wood. 

Years of studying, isolation, practically not having a social life I forced upon myself to proudly become a valedictorian graduate but everything i did was in vain.

On the floor lays the last piece of hope I once clung on to. Now crushed under the weight of disappointment and failure, my chest hitches as I desperately try to hold back a sob. Water gathers at the rims of my heterochromia eyes. Left one a muddy green and the other a murky blue with a tinge of that same muddy green who manages to stick out no matter what like I do so very well. Intentionally or not.

I don’t cry, instead, I sniff away all the mucus who threatens to slide down my nasal passages and roll myself into bed.

For a moment, the smell of the freshly cleaned sheets and my dearest pillow make me forget of the hell hole I am in, of the chains that confine me.

That moment is short-lived when it all comes back rushing down on me like a wave. These chains that I have, invisible to the human or anything supernatural expect me. This rope around my neck who never ceases to tighten as time goes by.

I ponder on this fact. Or is it a question? It’s something I definitely know the answer to. So a fact it is.

The chains that hold me aren’t emotional or even close to physical. Nor did I ever do anything to earn them but that’s how the system works.

The system refused every single application I sent to prestigious universities. Not one of them accepted me even after they had contacted me for scholarships offers. Claiming that “my chosen classes were already full and to try elsewhere.’

It wasn’t a coincidence. Out of everyone, I should know that. Because I knew the system far too well.

That system chained me without even binding my wrist to chains, that system took my freedom away without truly stripping me of my rights, that system tied a noose around my neck and is waiting for any given occasion to rip away the chair from under my feet.

The system doesn't want my education to blossom. the system wants me to settle for less every time then die. That’s our government. the system is our government and it’s trying to kill me off. 

I could apply at a community college and get accepted in mere seconds but that's what they want. That is their plan and no matter what, I will not succumb to it, not after seeing how it ended for father. Not after seeing that.

I gulp at the thought of him. My body and mind react instantly at the mere idea of my father. My breathing becomes ragged and I sense my palms get clammy and sweaty. The noose around my neck feels like it got ten times tighter. Even though nothing is truly there, my brain acknowledges the hard rope covered in sharp split ends digging at the skin of my neck. My hands who once were tucked underneath the pillow flock to my neck, grasping around nothing but my own skin.

I seal my eyes shut and begin chanting the only thing that calms me down during my breakdowns.

“A,B,C,D,E,F,G,H,I....” 

the alphabet, something you often associate with learning toddlers full of life and not a 19-year-old having a nervous breakdown.

“J, K, L, M, O, P, Q, R, S!!” I scream loud, frail body shaking like a leaf as I try my best to block out the nose, block out the shots and the footsteps who are threateningly close. I hiccup between a sob when I feel his big greasy hands grip my long ebony hair, yanking me back painfully, he throws my whole body across the room.

what letter was I at? I forgot. Now I can barely breathe. I frustrate the man furthermore. I know this when he yells  “shut the fuck up. Make another sound and your lovely mother gets it.” I open my eyes and stop breathing altogether. She lays on the floor.

I shake my head, clearing my mind of theses awful flashbacks as I shoot up from bed to reach for the pieces of paper, crumble them into a tiny ball and neatly shoot them in my plastic dollar-store basketball net who hangs just above the door. It hits the rim before falling on the floor with a plop. 

“damn, where did my basketballs skill go?” I ask my self, feeling slightly better due to the self-pity that seems to have eaten me whole.

 The alphabet always calms me down, it brings me back to earth when I need it the most -when my anxiety decides to lock me in my painful past.

My back now on the bed, I look at my white ceiling, its time to think rationally, like an adult - I smile to myself. Like an adult, huh? I quickly recognize the fact that most adults don’t actually know what they are doing. Most of the time they let themselves get dragged with the wave. Some try to overpower the water while others succumb to it and others find a way to float, to stay on the surface no matter how strong the storm gets.

I huff a breath of defeat "what am I going to do? It was the last one on the list.” I toy with my phone. I run my fingers against its smooth metal surface all while making sure to not unlock it by accident with the touch ID.

I've been ignoring Haerin’s messages for a while now. 

I frown, hoping that she won’t misunderstand and think that I a mad at her.

the screen lights up.

Haerin: Don’t worry I know that you’re not mad at me or anything but I'm just worried.. plus I kinda miss your ugly ass so text back soon. I can’t believe you’re making me seem like a desperate hoe by ignoring all my text. Your fuckgirl mode has, unfortunately, been activated :/ [2:45]

I snort. Not being able to ignore her for any longer, I text back. 

Me: I usually don’t text girls back after we fuck... but ur kinda special so come over or whatever... [2:46 pm]

Haerin: omg okay daddy! I’ll bring take out that way my ass won’t be the only thing you’ll eat today! I'm omw bitch you have some explaining to do. [2:46]

I chuckle and lock my phone.

 With the stretch of my limbs, I'm out of bed and I beeline straight to the bathroom.

I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. “fucking hell, I barely look alive.”

after peeing and a quick face wash, I stand in front of the mirror and notice that my pixie cut may need a trim soon. I can’t ever let my hair grow past my ears and I rather not think about the reason behind this -not yet at least, not yet.

I watch the clear droplet of water cling on to the curl near my forehead before dropping and rolling down my tawny skin. I can’t help but to glance down at my neck, it’s red. I pray that I won’t bruise. I take in the fact that my new skin care routine has been working marvelously. From my high cheekbones, my narrow chin and slightly protruding forehead my skin is spotless.

"Venice, you little thot, I have arrived in your domicile"

I jump in surprise at first. After a smile covers my plump lips when I realize who that voice belongs to. I step out of the bathroom which is linked to my room and meet the fake redhead. 

In a matter of seconds, I am engulfed in her tight embrace. Face hidden in the crook of her armpit I notice that the tall girl is wearing her favorite mustard hoodie.

I break the hug. “ I missed you too,” I say, gazing up at her through my short lashes. I see the worry in her slanted eyes but I know she isn’t judging, she never does.

“let’s talk, okay?” her voice is soft when she speaks. I nod and lead her to my bed.

A couple tears, three hugs, and many heartfelt words later, we lay diagonally on my bed. Looking up at the ceiling. With a shift in position, I look over at Haerin’s toes who never fail to not be ugly and stinky but who can blame her? She's an aspiring basketball player. Now I look up to her profile. It seems like the ceiling is long forgotten and that she is currently deep in thought, I can tell by the way her straight thick brows furrow and how she chews almost aggressively her full bottom lip. I Am caught red-handed when she suddenly turns at catches me staring.

“I've got an idea.” her lips part as she smiles, revealing the gap in the middle of her two front teeth that fits her so well.

“Shoot”

“How about we watch old Disney movies to take off some of your stress for today? let's deal this fucktard of a situation tomorrow. '' She pushes her elbow underneath her to lift herself. Her round glasses droop down the bridge of her nose but she's quick to push them back with the help of her lanky fingers.

I smiled at the idea. I ask myself how can someone be so pure and genuine sometimes.

''Okay, but just don't put anything with romance in it. I don't want to be reminded of the fact that the only thing I wake up next to in bed is my life-sized Makoto Tachibana pillow.'' My feet drag on the warm floor as Haerin intertwines her arm with mine. '' That's extremely sad and I hope that you'll throw it out once you get a boyfriend-'' she stops in her tracks and looks at me.

we both stare at each other only to explode with laughter.

 ''BAHAHA! I can't believe I just said that! You? a boyfriend? I think WinWin would finally be getting lines in songs before that happens.'' wiping away the tear that escaped, we go down the stairs and she grabs the laptop on the kitchen counter before plopping herself beside me on the sofa.

''Shut up you shouldn't be the one to speak here.'' I laugh back with her.

''Whatever ugly loser, go grabs snacks that way we can stuff our faces and I'll pick a movie'' She orders and am up in seconds.

''I know you said no romance but I still picked the Amanda Bynes movie She's the man '' Haerin informs me as I come back into the living room

I shrug my shoulders, indifferent.

''I don't care what we watch at this point, anything to get my stress down.'' I slur on my words near the end, taking a big fat handful of popcorn and shoving it down my throat.

'We could watch porn then'' she wiggles her eyebrows suggestively and I pinch her left nipple.

''shut up and play the god damn movie.''

And with a click, the movie is playing and I am finally relaxing.

About an hour and forty-five minutes later the movie is done and you're left with a strange idea in mind.

''hey Haerin..'' you start off

her eyes squint, which suggests that she's thinking . ''hm?''

''Are you possibly thinking the same thing as me ?'' now my eyes squint, trying my best to read her expression.

 '' If you are thinking about dressing yourself up as a male and infiltrating the all-boys prestigious Uni then yes, we are thinking the same thing!'' her grip on my wrists is tight and I feel light headed when she shakes me like a polaroid as soon as I nod.

''CALL CHRISTIAN RIGHT NOW! SOME MADAME DOUBTFIRE MAKEOVER SHIT IS ABOUT TO HAPPEN IN THIS BITCH!'' She screams at the top of her lungs.

"You called me here because am what?" Christian took place on the sofa beside me. Brows creased together, he leaned forward, as if he hadn't heard me the first time. He heard me perfectly fine. "Because you're the dude-dest dude I know and I need to learn how to become a dude."

He drowns himself deeper in the couch, taking a chunk of his locks between his fingers, he let out an exasperated "what kind of fucking drugs do you guys take to come up with this shit?" And shortly after "Okay, I'll help."

This was our relationship. Christian Yu a very stable young adult that happened to be my childhood neighbor. Even when I moved out of my mother's home, he never left me behind. Kind of like a big brother that allows me to do dumb shit only with his supervision.

"This might seem crazy but just trust me on this. It might work,"I reassure.

His eyes bulge “What exactly might work Venice please don’t tell-”

“I can’t keep living on like this. I don’t want to live a meaningless life all while knowing that I can achieve so much more. Just entering that school and studying to become a lawyer would be a huge step for me” my jaw clenches “Its a step towards my goal and..” nostrils flared, I watch Christian tense, the weight of my words slowly seep into his pores, completely changing his first resolve. “ I will fulfill it no matter what”.

“I understand what you want to do but wouldn't that be proving what the government is doing to people like you -no offense, right? You're just doing what they expect of the children of criminals, you're becoming one too” He remains tense. Lower lip stuck between his pearly teeth, Christian avoids eye contact. 

“Reflect on this: What do criminals have in common?” I get up from the couch under the perplexed gaze of my friend.

Lips puckered, brows screwed together, he comes up with an answer quickly “Its simple, they do illegal things!”

“That's partially true but I want you do think of the biggest names in the dark world, the infamous one. What brought them together besides the fact that what they did was prohibited?” I am patient, smiling down at my friend who racks his brain fora retort. His wide shoulder slump, not knowing where exactly am I go going with this. I give in, choosing to spare him a brain burn out “they were all selfish.”

“W-What?”

“yes, it really is that simple.” I smirk “ Just think about it, All their lives, their goal was to enrich themselves, gain profit or some form of power. They were ready to do whatever it took to gain these things. Kill, steal ect. What separates me from them is that I am not only doing this for me but the others who suffer alongside me in silence. We both know that the system is wrong and should be taken down even if that means sacrificing the little freedom I have.” I exhale, coming back to sit near Christian on the couch.

He sighs, elbows now up on his tighs, he rubs his eyes. “Fine, I support you in this but please don't you dare end up in jail or else-”

“You’ll lose your mind since you can't live without her.” Haerin finally speaks. She had remained so silent I forgot that she was even there.

“Y-yeah, you're probably right actually, I don't think I can't live without either of my girls” he pipes, scooping both of us in his toned arms and engulfing us in a tight hug.

“Let me go, Chris, my face is literally buried in your armpits”  Haerin whines.

“Then smell them!”

“Oh no, you don”t-”I send my knee in his crotch in a matter of seconds, making him groan in agony all while curling into a ball on the floor. Haerin stares unbothered, pulling out her phone and calling someone. The conversation is short but it leaves a smile on her lips when she hangs up.

"Okay whores, I just called the best makeup artist in town. After you get your lesson on how to become an owner of a dick and get a makeup lesson cuz god knows you struggling in that.." Haerin shakes her head and muffles a laugh with her hand when I pipe out “bitch.”

 "You will go in the room and do what you have to do to make the world believe you are a man."

"Okay, let's start then!" the serious and somber mood is gone, excitement is now what is left behind. Am thrilled, justice pumps through my veins and it's only fueled more by the support of my friends. I can do this

"Okay let's start then...but no homo"

"I know I taught you to use 'no homo' but it doesn't mean you need to say it in every  sentence, Venice," Christian shouts from the kitchen, watching the makeup artist teach me the basics on how to make my face look more masculine and the brands that stay on the longest.

Haerin had told her that we were just filming a really weird porno and the women weirdly enough, nodded as if what Haerin said was something that she had seen often.

A couple more minutes spent by my side and she was out of the house, I shooed Christian and Haerin out as well.

With years of fraudulent knowledge in my hands, creating a new identity would be a breeze. 

What should my new name be?

I grab my phone and open the group chat

Me: I need Name ideas, got anything? [5:15]

Chris: keep it simple... something like Steve Duncan or whatever [5:17]

Haerin: Don't listen to this loser, Bob Mcniplecoker shall be your new name, beloved  ;)  [5:17]

Chris: i-  [5:18]

Me: 00Ooo thank you Haerin! very cool! [5:18]

Chris: please don't tell me you're actually using that- why am I the only sane person in this group? [5:19]

I shut off my phone, content with the name and ready to get down to serious business. Hours and hours of serious business.

Creating a whole new identity sure was time-consuming.

The wait was over.

The letter who held my fate had arrived to my surprising displeasure. I huffed a breath of frustration. Why am I so nervous? With the grades I have, it is certain I’ll be getting in but why can't I open it?

The pretty creme letter waited for no one other than me to open it. I was first made known of its presence when I was taking a shit and my uncle so kindly slid it under the door when he was staying over for a couple days.

All Boys: Great Jeon University

I had just finished taking a shit but after re-reading the letter I felt like taking a second shit.  Curling on the floor, my nose rose up in defiance as I glanced at the paper, still centimeters away from under the door.

Let's just open the letter and get this over with.

With trembling hands, I reached over to the letter but I at last second I let my hand fell back to my side.

This Is so stressful! Is it possible to vomit and shit your pants all at the same time? I shot up, heading to the sink determined, with a couple splashes of cold water on my face I stared at myself in the mirror, determined.

I pursued my full lips, taking in a pimple that formed right next to my thick brows. This stress is really getting to me. I know damn well that a pimple wouldn't have been there otherwise.

"Okay you big wuss, tear that shit open !" I gas myself up, finally picking up the letter, I rip the envelope, already expecting the worst.

"Dear Mister. Mcniplecocker, we are glad to inform you that you have been accepted-"

“Oh thank God...” relief washes down on me like a ton of bricks. ”Thank 

god..”I exhale, I can't contain the small smile that forms on my lips.

"THIS CALL FOR DANGEROUSLY HIGH AMOUNTS OF CALORIES !" Haerin shouts, grabbing the takeout menu to order too much food and possibly max out her credit card. She is reckless and often thinks of the consequences after she does something but if she ever got in trouble with the law due to her shenanigans, me, a soon to be law student would help her.

Christian took his usual seat at my right and Haerin at my left on our favorite brown couch. They were here so often on this couch that their butts were permanently imprinted.

"I need to tell you guys about this girl I've met. She's older but I swear I've never seen a woman more beautiful" Christian gushed, tugging on my shirt. "Oh, my man is finally getting some action! I started getting worried for you I was almost going to ship you with Haerin."

The girl snapped her head to look at me at the mention of her name. "Excuse me? Me and Christian? I'd rather let your creepy pillow anime guy date me." She snickered and I scoffed "Bitch, you wish Makoto Tachibana would be with your dusty crusty ass plus you're acting like Christian is ugly! I mean he might be a lil on the grandpa side since he's so old but-"

He deadpanned. "I'm literally 25 ???"

"Anyways, in two months I'll be going to one of the most prestigious schools and I'll be a lawyer. If one of you ever gets in trouble with the law don't call me because I'll be the one making sure you go to jail." I joke, picking a movie on the laptop.

I was over the moon. Things were going my way and it felt good, so good.

"If you ever do get caught, who will defend you ?" Christian hesitated when he asked, not wanting to stress me.

"Don't jinx it, idiot. I won't happen, don't worry." Haerin leaned forward, taking my hand in hers and gave me a small smile not knowing that the damage was already done.

 It was something that I ridiculously tried shoving at the back of my brain. It was something I needed to face. I was going to be a lawyer for crying out loud, I knew that I could face time in jail and fines I wouldn't be able to afford to pay.

It was something I was ready to risk. For my education. I was breaking the law in order to work as a person who enforced the law. How ironic.

"Yeah, don't jinx it, Chris." 

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Wan High Weeping (Part 18)

About a week since she had brought TyLee over and her mother was still refusing to talk to her. “You decided to leave your brother home all. Alone. To talk to your friend!” The dramatic way she had tossed her hands into the air did little to ease the tension. “I know you don’t think far beyond yourself, young lady, but this is unacceptable. You knew how important that dinner was to your father. We were almost late because of you. We ended up having to leave Tom-Tom…” Mai ended up tuning her out entirely from there. The woman had been lecturing her on selfishness and in that same spiel, admitted her own self-interest. If Tom-Tom’s well-being had matter that much, they would have skipped the dinner.

But no. Because they were the parents and she was the daughter, the blame lie with her. And TyLee hasn’t talked to her since. She couldn’t blame TyLee. Her mother had the audacity to phone TyLee’s parents and so the girl was also in trouble.

And that was her fault too.

 She had put all of her soul into not taking things out on Tom-Tom, but the more her mom spoke and chastised. The more Mai wished that the boy had never been born at all. She was a burden to her parents and Tom-Tom was a burden to her.

And he was still a burden because Mai had to watch him after school that day. She had to watch him the day after that as well and, for her crime, she wasn’t allowed company either. She was barred from Chan’s Halloween party too. This particularly vexed her; Halloween was the one time of the year she actually rather enjoyed. It was prime shopping season for her wardrobe, and she hadn’t even had the chance to do so once that season.

 She was beginning to think she should just stop trying to enjoy things at all. The less she liked, the less there was to lose. Halloween was a children’s holiday anyways. And it wasn’t the same now that she TyLee and Azula didn’t dress up together. Just to torture herself a little more, she opened her phone and browsed old pictures. The first was very, very old; her first Halloween with the two girls. She had been a ladybug, TyLee was a bee, and Azula was a praying mantis of all things. They each held their little pumpkin buckets staring at the camera with cubby baby faces and the kind of adorably wide smiles that only children could muster. She swiped a few times to something more recent. The Halloween party from two years ago; TyLee was a zombie cheerleader, flashing a peace sign at the camera, somehow managing to hold her pom poms at the same time. Azula’s costume was handcrafted and model after her zodiac sign; complete with full body paint and dashes of glitter and a pair of elaborate wings. She had gone all out that year and won the costume competition. Zuko was in this one too; his was also handmade—he had gone the vampire route but with a steampunk twist. And Mai. She was just Mai. Blah, Mai, with a generic vampire costume. Granted it suited her style well but she wished that she had the ambition to create something original.

It would seem that she wouldn’t be getting her chance.

 She swiped again. God, they were so happy. There was always a touch of pain in Zuko’s eyes but at least he was there. And at least he was having a good time for the moment. Another swipe and she had to hold back tears, she wondered where it had gone wrong. How she had let both Azula and TyLee distance themselves.

Indeed, that was somehow her fault too.

 .oOo.

 Toph didn’t like the look of the place at all—not that she could see it very well through swollen, stinging eyes. But her condition was getting worse and her parents were getting desperate. And so she found herself in the waiting room of the shadiest looking eye doctor she had ever not heard of. She holds her focused on her phone as hard as possible and found the voice command button. Not bothering to keep her voice low she said, “Twinkle Toes, ya gotta help me, this is sketchier than Zhao telling us that our math tests only ask questions about what we learned in class.”

 Lao hushed her. “You have to keep your voice down, this man is going to help fix your eyes and then you’ll be able to get back to school and soccer. And he’s doing it for a deal!”

 “But he won’t help us if you keep saying things like that, dear.” Poppy added.

 Toph folded her arms over her chest. “Stop calling me that!” She grumbled. She had a feeling that this doctor dude would see her regardless of her words, he just wanted to make a quick buck and she didn’t want to be his lab rat.

 “Doctor Warui Kōkei, will see you now.”

 “To bad I won’t see him.” Toph huffed. She had earned herself more hushing from both parents.

 But the nurse chuckled, “well hopefully we can fix that, yes?”

 The nurse seemed nice enough, but Toph was still skeptical. Maybe it was the crumbling and faded wallpaper or maybe it was the scuffed and creaking floorboards. It could have been the crying child or the broken clock. Whatever it was, Toph had the most foreboding feeling.

Not that her parents would take that opinion into account.

 .oOo.

 “Have you heard anything about BeiFong?” Mai asked Smellerbee. It had been a bitch to track the girl down in the after school rush, so she better have an answer.

 “What do you care for?” The girl returned with a question of her own. “I have a bus to catch.”

 “And I have a question that needs an answer. BeiFong is on your soccer team, have you heard any news.”

 Smellerbee rolled her eyes. “Sure. Her parents are taking her to some eye doctor no one has ever heard of. If he does then I won’t have to worry about her taking my place as team captain.”

 “I’m sure you will.” Mai stated plainly. She sure hoped that the surgery, or whatever the treatment was, would go well. She watched Smellerbee stop towards her bus, leaving her to wonder if literally everyone attending Wan High—save for Aang—were in endless states of sour moods.

 She knew that she was and that it was about to get worse.

 Years ago, Tom-Tom running up to her screaming, “Maaaaaaai!” And then jumping into a hug would have turned her day around. That day each syllable was a crescendo off annoyance and his body colliding with hers, was a detonator. It was a silent explosion, but an explosion no less. “Get off, Tom, I’ve got homework to do. Sit down and watch TV or something.”

 He looked at her with innocent eyes, “I’m hungry though, Mai. Really, really hungry. We can go to the kitchen and play animal crackers!”

 It was almost enough to break the resentment. Almost. But this time she wanted to hold onto and relish in her anger, even if she would only keep it within. On the outside she remained cold. “I don’t have time for animal crackers. Stop playing with your food and just eat it.” She found herself a seat on the sofa and watched him teeter off towards the kitchen, rubbing his eyes.

 She pulled out her phone, Azula’s number still remained in her contacts and for a moment she considered giving it a call. But she recalled the girl saying that she had other goth girls to talk to, the though left her bitter so she scrapped that idea, swapping it out for a worse one.

 She dialed Zuko’s phone.

Again her message went to voice mail and she was furious. Of all the times he had called her during his slumps…she had always picked up, even if it was to yell and argue. And now he had the audacity to ignore her completely? She really had been nothing more than a person to weep to after his father whopped his druggy ass a good one.

 She very nearly threw the phone, when a text appeared on her screen.

She dared to hope that it was TyLee or Zuko. Instead an ugly message scrawled itself across the screen, with an even uglier photo.  It took a lot to invoke a physical response, but the phone fell from her hands which came to cover her mouth. The phone fell face up so a glance down could send chills down her spine all over again.

 It was bloody, the image. She couldn’t tell exactly what had happened to Toph’s eyes, but they were bleeding. And she was screaming, her face twisted and contorted in pain. Her hands seemed to claw at her seat as her mother held her close.

 She didn’t recognize the sender’s number, but the message was clear and cutting.

 “I hope you’re happy.”