#heavily inspired by the moment i knew and other sad lyrics

[generalstarkov]

Zoya Pop Star Au (3/?)

part 1, 2

Welcome to part 3 of our scheduled brain rot content! In which we learn what really happened between Alina and Zoya, and guess what, it is devastating, heartbreaking, gut wrenching, etc etc. Texts by the wonderful @wafflesandkruge and jounal entries by me 😌 brain rot was strong enough to get me to write something a n d post it here.

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗙𝗔𝗞𝗘 𝗦𝗠𝗜𝗟𝗘

　　　　　　　　𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Where Chris records a TikTok with Tara after many requests from both fandoms, but fans reacted contrary to what he expected, generating questioning thoughts in Y/N.

WARNING: Crying, comparison, fighting.

REQUESTED?: Yes, by anon

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

The morning sun beamed beyond the half-open curtains in the living room, painting the room with orange and gold tones. Sitting at the kitchen table, Y/N immersed herself in her books, trying to focus on her notes as the sounds of Nick and Matt echoed around the house.

At that moment, Chris was absent. He had gone to Tara's house, a new friend of the triplets and, consequently, of Y/N, who had recently become a frequent figure in their lives. The objective was to record a video for Tara's channel since after the large group's social media post together, both fandoms started begging for collabs.

As Y/N immersed herself in her studies, a notification flashed on her phone screen. The girl looked up at her device, seeing the new message.

pretty boy: hi baby!! look, we did a tiktok! I look so cool: link.

A smile curved Y/N's lips as she clicked on the link, curious to see the result of one of Chris and Tara's creations. The video started, and she immediately recognized the song as one of her favorites, humming softly as her eyes captured the funny dance and interaction between the two.

A laugh escaped her lips when she saw Chris shaking his head in the lyrics "Would you get down on knees for me?", remembering all the times the song played when they were together, and exactly in this part, Chris always got down on his knees in front of Y/N, making her laugh.

For a moment, Y/N allowed herself to relax and enjoy the scene. It was a genuine demonstration of their new friendship, and Y/N felt grateful to be part of that dynamic.

However, her joy was momentary.

As the video came to an end, Y/N scrolled through the comments, eager to see the reaction of Tara's followers. What she found left her cold.

Among the funny and complimentary comments, there was a barrage of messages that cut like sharp knives. Ardent fans of both Tara and Chris were heavily shipping them, completely ignoring Chris's long-standing and public relationship with Y/N.

"Chris and Tara are so cute together!"

"I so wanted them to be a couple 😭"

"I'm sorry, Y/N, but you don't hold a candle to Tara. Chris deserves someone like her."

The words echoed in Y/N's mind, like a distant echo of an approaching storm. She felt a tightness in her chest, a mixture of sadness, anger, and confusion.

How could they be so cruel? How could they judge their relationship based on fragments of a distorted reality? Y/N felt vulnerable, exposed to the relentless cruelty of the virtual world.

Her thumb moved automatically as she left the comment box, sliding the screen to the TikTok below the one she was watching, craving a quick distraction. But her hope was suddenly dashed when she saw that the next video was an edit of Chris and Tara's TikTok and all the others after.

She knew the fans were fast, but at that moment, she wanted them to be as slow as possible.

Y/N closed the app with a heavy sigh, fighting to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. It was difficult not to let the strangers' words and opinions get to her.

With a determined effort to forget about it momentarily, Y/N turned her attention back to the books, seeking refuge in the comforting familiarity of the printed pages, forgetting to answer Chris.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The day was coming to an end. In the room shared by Y/N and Chris, the atmosphere was filled with a silent energy, interrupted only by the gentle slide of Y/N's fingers over her phone screen, and the low sounds of various videos.

She was lying in their bed, having already taken a comforting shower, but her mind was still shrouded in a haze of dark thoughts. As she scrolled through her TikTok's For You, romantic edits of Chris and Tara popped up with disturbing frequency. Y/N's expression was a mixture of sadness and self-questioning, her eyes reflecting an inner storm.

She felt her mind defeat her with thoughts of comparison. She knew she would never reach Tara's beauty, humor, and even body.

The heavy atmosphere was interrupted by the sound of the door opening gently. Chris entered the room, radiating an aura of euphoria. His eyes sparkled with joy, and a smile spread across his face with ease.

"Hi, my pretty girl!" Chris greeted, closing the door behind him. "You won't believe how amazing the video with Tara turned out. I can't wait for her to post it so you can see it!"

"Hey, baby! I'm so happy you had fun." Y/N looked up from her cell, forcing a smile on her lips, trying with all her might not to reveal her current state - the last thing she wanted to do was ruin Chris's excitement, but the sadness still hovered in her eyes.

Chris immediately noticed the change in her expression and approached the bed, worried.

"What happened, babe?" He asked in a worried tone, frowning and sitting down next to her.

She just shook her head slightly, unable to put her tumultuous thoughts into words. Chris reached out to caress her face gently, seeking to comfort her with his loving touch.

"You didn't answer my text, I really thought something was happening... You know you can tell me anything, right?" Chris continued gently. He didn't want to force anything out of her.

Y/N nodded, feeling a lump form in her throat. Before he could say anything else, Chris noticed the phone in her hand with almost silent sounds escaping from the speaker, leaning over to peer at the screen.

Romantic edits of Chris and Tara filled Y/N's device. He swallowed hard, instantly connecting the dots.

Chris's comforting touch on Y/N's face seemed to turn cool. His eyes narrowed slightly, and a sigh escaped his lips before he could control it.

"Y/N, are you really upset because of these silly edits?" The boy questioned, his voice filled with disbelief. His touch against the warm skin disappeared within seconds, the boy removing his hand from her face before sitting down on the bed.

Y/N flinched at the accusation implicit in his words, feeling suddenly exposed and vulnerable. Tears threatened to overflow her eyes as she struggled to find a coherent response.

"It's not just because of the edits..." She, her voice shaking with turbulent emotions. "Did you see the comments? They-"

Chris shook his head impatiently, cutting her off abruptly, frustration beginning to seep into his expression. He couldn't understand why something as trivial as fan edits could affect his girlfriend so much.

"Y/N, this is ridiculous!" He continued firmly. "These edits and comments don't mean anything. They're just fan jokes. It's not the end of the world." His voice came out louder than before, his posture now rigid.

His words hit Y/N like a sharp knife, making her feel even more inadequate and misunderstood. Anger bubbled inside her, a simmering mix of resentment and hurt.

"You don't understand, Chris!" She snapped, her voice shaking slightly. Her right hand worked to lock the screen of her phone in one quick motion, tossing it aside. "This isn't just about the edits. It's about how I feel about being compared to Tara, about how it's making me feel inferior to her! How would you feel if people started wanting to see me with a man other than you? While I'm in a relationship with you!"

Chris rolled his eyes dismissively, his patience beginning to wear thin at the intensity of Y/N's emotions.

“You’re so tiring sometimes, Y/N.” He snapped without thinking, his voice tinged with irritation, not giving a damn about how his girlfriend felt. "I can't deal with all this insecurity all the time. It's fucking exhausting."

The words hit Y/N like a punch to the gut, leaving her breathless, her rigid posture quickly crumbling. She felt tears run down her face without force as the painful realization settled in her heart.

She was tiring. She was insecure. She was too much for him to handle.

The pain of rejection burned in her chest as she retrieved her phone again, ripping the comforter off her legs. Her lips were pressed into a thin line tightly in an attempt to stop the ugly sobs that she wanted to let out. She wouldn't give herself the luxury of showing Chris how much he hurt her.

The girl got up from the bed in one quick movement, grabbing her pillow and heading towards the bedroom door.

"Where are you going?" Chris's voice echoed harshly behind her, his body rising from the mattress quickly.

"I'll sleep in the living room." Y/N responded curtly, turning the handle with ease before walking through the door, slamming it, feeling more alone than ever amidst the multitude of turbulent emotions.

She could feel her heart being crushed a little more when she didn't hear Chris call for her again, let alone try to reach her.

The stairs leading to the living room were silent, and her pillow clutched to her chest as a last vestige of comfort in a world that seemed to be falling apart around her. Each step up echoed like a lonely echo in an emotional void that seemed to swallow her whole.

Upon reaching the living room, Y/N found refuge on the empty couch. She curled into the soft upholstery, hugging the pillow tightly as tears continued to roll down her cheeks silently. The phone rested next to her, emitting a dim light that wouldn't turn off, almost begging her to pick it up again.

Hours dragged by like centuries as Y/N fought the ghosts of her own mind.

At some point, she had given up resisting and was on her TikTok again. The algorithm seemed to hate her, delivering her frequent videos of Chris and Tara, which were like a sharp dagger in her heart.

They would really look beautiful together.

Dawn fell heavily upon her, but sleep refused to welcome her into its comforting arms. Instead, she found herself trapped in a whirlwind of torturous thoughts, her mind pounding incessantly with doubts and questions about her relationship with Chris.

Until her brain shuts down completely, letting tiredness win.

At 3 a.m., in the darkness of the night, a familiar figure appeared at the entrance to the room. Chris was there, his tired face etched with worry and regret.

His eyes quickly found Y/N's figure lying on the couch, already asleep, curled up and shivering slightly from the cold. Her eyes were closed, but he could see the swelling that surrounded them, the traces of tears on her cheeks and her still damp face. Next to her, her phone repeatedly played one of the videos she had watched before falling asleep.

A lump formed in Chris's throat. He intensely blamed himself for not having thought before acting and, much less, noticing how much his actions had affected his girlfriend.

With hesitant steps, he approached her, feeling the weight of his own anguish on his shoulders.

Gently, Chris turned off her phone, cutting the endless cycle of pain that had consumed Y/N. He then crouched down beside her, studying her peaceful face with a mixture of love and pain.

With a resigned sigh, the boy carefully took her into his arms, hooking them around her back and behind her knees, feeling the weight of her fragile body against his own chest. Y/N hummed softly in response to his touch but didn't fully wake up.

Chris carried her down the stairs and back to their bedroom, where the soft light from the lamp bathed the room in yellow tones. Tenderly, he placed her on the soft mattress, covering her with the comforter carefully so as not to wake her.

Y/N shifted slightly under Chris's touch and the new surface beneath her limbs, her eyebrows furrowing in an expression of discomfort. She looked restless, as if she were immersed in a nightmare.

Chris watched her for a moment, feeling the weight of his own harsh words weigh on him like an anchor. He knew he had hurt Y/N deeply, and the pain of seeing her suffer was almost unbearable.

With a heavy sigh, he sat down next to her, his hand reaching for her with a tentative touch. Y/N stirred slightly, her eyes finally slowly opening to meet Chris's. She fought the urge to get up and leave the room again, her anger at Chris's actions and sadness in her mind, making her want to avoid him.

For a moment, they simply stared at each other, sharing a silent understanding that transcended words, Y/N making the decision to let him say what he wanted.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry.” Chris muttered, his voice thick with regret. "I was insensitive and selfish. I didn't want to hurt you, I acted on impulse and completely without thinking. This whole situation is not silly if it hurts and bothers you, and I promise that we can talk better about what you saw and how you felt, and solve this together... Just please, give me this chance?"

Y/N blinked slowly, her eyes locked on Chris's as she processed his words. For a moment, she felt the weight of hurt and disappointment pressing against her, but then she saw the sincerity in Chris's eyes, the pure, unconditional love he had always offered her.

And in that moment, she knew that forgiveness was the only good choice to make. With a sigh, she squeezed Chris's hand tenderly, feeling a weight lift off her shoulders.

"Just one chance. I want you to fix what you did and do it right this time."

taglist:

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(If you want to be added to the taglist, go to this post)

[ghostxrose]

𝑵𝒊𝒄𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒆 | 𝑨𝒊𝒛𝒂𝒘𝒂 𝑺𝒉𝒐𝒕𝒂 𝒙 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

Summary ~ When you started dating Shota, you knew what you were signing up for. What you didn’t expect to happen was for everything between you both to come crumbling down, leaving you pinned beneath the rubble and Shota not even realizing it.

Tags/Warnings ~ Minors DNI, NSFW content, Inspired by Nicotine by Panic at the Disco, hurt no comfort, angst, failed relationship, past relationship neglect, cursing, break up, sad ending, use of Y/N

Note ~ Hey Lovelies, I wrote this one night when I was craving some angst, lol. I did include some of the lyrics from Nicotine, sorry if it's cringe. Anyway, hope y'all enjoy the read? It is very angst forward so.. I don't know.. trigger warning..? Love and appreciate you, Lovelies! <3

You had shown up to his apartment not long after he called..

Again.

As soon as you were through the door, the two of you had dove right into sloppily making out and pawing off each other’s clothing..

Again.

You two had taken your heaving chests, kiss bitten lips, panted moans, and lust heated bodies straight to his bedroom without having a proper conversation beforehand..

Again!

You let out a loud moan, your orgasm taking over your mind, as Shota gives one last thrust and groans into your mouth in one last open-mouthed sloppy kiss as he cums. He stays on top of you for a moment, lazily making out with you, before he slowly pulls out and flops onto his back next to you.

As you both lay there panting and coming down from your highs you close your eyes. Shota slowly gets up, tying off the condom and heading to the bathroom to throw it away and clean himself up.

The post-orgasm clarity hits you and the feeling of disappointment fills you as you sit up. You let out a heavy sigh as you rub your hands over your still flushed face and swing your legs over the side of the bed. Your eyes scan the floor for your clothes, more negative and heavy emotions stacking themselves on top of the disappointment. Collecting your clothes from off of the floor, you start to get dressed.

“What are you doing?” Shota asks from the doorway of the bathroom, startling you a bit.

You don’t turn around to face him because you know that his face is either it’s usual tired disinterest or it’s occasional tired confusion.

“I’m getting dressed.” You state, attempting to make your tone blank and void of emotion.

“That much was obvious, (Y/N). Why are you getting dressed?” He says, his tone slightly more irritated than normal.

“This was a mistake, Shota.” You bite out, already feeling the sting of tears in your eyes.

You feel the bed dip behind you and hear Shota let out an exasperated breath as he sits down heavily.

“You said that the last three times we.. did this. I don’t understand what the problem i-”

“The problem is that we are stuck in this horrible on and off situation, Shota. I.. I can’t do it anymore..” You say, cutting him off and trying so desperately to keep your tone controlled and even.

“The only reason we’re ‘on and off’ is because you thought that being with a Pro Hero who also teaches full-time would be a walk in the fucking park, (Y/N).” Shota angrily spits, both of you still sitting with your backs facing each other.

A bitter rage floods your body and you lose the will to hold back any longer, “I never thought that, Shota! I knew it would be difficult but I was ready to put in the effort required to make it fucking work! I poured so much effort int-”

“I did, t-” Shota’s raised voice cut you off but you only let him get those couple of words out before doing the same.

“In the beginning you did, yes! But where did it go, Shota?!” You yell, turning around to face him.

“(Y/N)..” He growls out but you don’t let him get any further, once again, as everything that you’ve been trying to bury bubbles out of you.

“It’s been a year since our last date! A fucking year! All we do anymore is sleep, fuck, and go to work! I can barely remember the last meal we shared together! I fucking understood what it was that I had signed up for but it got to a point where I didn’t even feel like we were in a relationship anymore!” You continue yelling, your whole body heated from anger and tears streaming down your face.

“Y- you’re.. You’re worse than nicotine, Shota! I keep telling myself ‘one more hit and then we’re through’ but I can’t fucking stay away from you! It’s like I can constantly taste you on my lips and I can’t get rid of you! Every single day, whether I’m with or without you, fucking hurts!” Your yells crumble into choked sobs and you bury your face into your hands.

Shota is standing across from you, the bed between you both, just staring at you in silence. His eyes are the slightest bit shiny, his face is scrunched up as if he is in pain, and it’s the most emotion that you’ve seen on his face in a year. His mouth opens and closes a few times but no words come out. You compose yourself enough to look up at him with a heated glare.

“Did you even love me back the same way I loved you, Shota?” You ask bitterly. You’re met with more silence and nod your head with a dry, humorless chuckle.

“We’re done for real this time, Aizawa. Don’t fucking call me again.” You spit out as you gather the rest of your stuff and make your way out of his apartment.

You sit in your car for a few minutes screaming and choking on hard sobs over the pain of your heart shattering. “This was the last fucking time!! I fucking swear it!!”  You scream at your steering wheel, praying to any and every higher power that may be out there to give you the strength to resist getting one more fucking hit.

Note ~ Someone please tell me that I am not the only one who will actively seek out angst, sometimes.. Is it healthy? Probably not. Will I continue to look for or write angst? Yes. Anyways, thank you all so much for the love! My amazing Lovelies, I love and appreciate all of you! <3

Divider Credit ~ @k1ssyoursister

[swiss-mrs]

Chapter Five: Match Made In Music

Life Eternal Series

Eddie Munson x Rockstar!POC!Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

*Masterlist, Series Warnings, Additional Series/Reader Info, and Posting Schedule.*

Chapter Warnings: Slow Burn, Domestic Duo, Mentions/Depictions of Slight Breakdown (Eddie Comforts), Mutual Pining

Witnessing you sing and create music was quite the sight to see, and to be a part of that process so intimately set alight something inside of Eddie. His last full day in New York was spent as many others before. He loved being able to be so domestic with you. He woke up to a sleepy you, usually in the kitchen already trying to wake yourself with morning caffeine, or, if he was lucky, he'd meet you right at the bottom of the stairs, still half asleep and yawning. The ‘bottom of the stairs’ you was the closest he'd been to waking up next to you, and it made his heart burst with happiness every time he'd see you like that. He was never really a morning person before, but that experience got him waking up early. Only if Wayne could see him now.

You were currently in the booth with your headphones on and your eyes closed, bopping to the music playing. This song was heavily inspired by the 80s, mixing together a darkwave synth sound with a classic rock sound. It had grown to be one of yours and Eddie's favorites. You and Eddie had completely written and composed the song yourselves. The lyrics told a story. It was a story of heartbreak and of letting go. It held everything you never got to say to your first love. It pictured all the pain and betrayal you'd felt, the love you still held, but in the end, it was a story about how you realized to let go of something that wasn't meant to be.

You were adding the last few ad libs to the song. Your voice was struggling not to break. It was clear that you were lost in emotion, but it was so powerful. It was anger. It was pain. It was relief. Eddie had chills.

The music ended and there were a few seconds of silence between you two. You were struggling to keep it together, brows furrowed together, your eyes squeezed shut, and your breath heavy. Eddie stared at you through the glass with wide sad eyes. A tear that escaped your eyelashes broke him from his trance. He was quick to jump up from his chair and rush into the booth. He maneuvered around the equipment to get too you, taking off your headphones, placing them on the stand next to you before encompassing you in his warmth. “No no no. Don't do that.” You protest, trying to push him off, but he doesn't let go. 

“Why not?” He asks, confused above all else.

“I'm trying really hard to hold it together and you hugging me is just going to break the damn.” You have a determined look on your face, but Eddie doesn't care. He pulls you back into him, resting his cheek on the side of your head. Until this moment, you never truly realized how much taller he was than you. You've always kept a safe distance, making you believe you were close in height but being buried in his chest made you feel overwhelmed. It was safe.

“Let it out.” He says, barely above a whisper. It takes a few seconds. You try your hardest not to cry, but eventually, you just break down, sobbing and gasping for air against his chest. He only holds you tighter.

In any other circumstance, Eddie would've taken flight at the sight of someone breaking down. He usually felt awkward in these moments, like he had no idea what to do, but right now, he knew he just needed to hold you. His own brows furrowed, and his jaw clenched. This was new to him, but he couldn't run away from you, not now. You needed him. It burned inside his chest. He would never leave you like this.

Your sobs eventually turn into wet sniffles.  Eddie runs your back, gently rocking you side to side. “I've got you.” You sniffle and pull back a little to look up at him.

“Sorry.” You say. He looks down, confused.

“Sorry for what?”

“For this. You don't need to see me like this. Plus, I got your shirt all gross.” You say looking down at the tear stains on his chest. Eddie shakes his head with a soft chuckle.

“My shirt doesn't matter. Like I said, I'm here for you. Always. Through all the ups and downs from now on. Don't be sorry for it.” You practically go lump against him, leaning your weight on him, basically cuddling each other while standing at this point. You let out a deep sigh.

“I hate crying.” You pout. Eddie chuckles again, kissing your temple, causing a fire to start at the pit of your belly.

“I know. It sucks, but it's needed.” You two pull apart after a few more seconds. He leaves his arms loosely hanging around you, staring into your eyes. “I think we got enough takes for this one.” He starts to drag you out of the booth and to the other side of the glass.

“I think we may need to re-record it.” You scoff. He shakes his head.

“Nope. It was perfect.” He states. You look at him with furrowed brows. “You wanted to story tell, and this is a song about letting go of your first love. Besides the fact that you can clearly hear your emotions in your voice, it also sounds really good. Super metal.” He says with a comforting smile. You shake your head with a soft chuckle and look down at the computer screen. Your eyes widen, and you hideously hurriedly click the mouse a few times.

“You left it recording, dumbass.” You glare playfully. He avoids your eyes and shrugs.

“It's fiiine. Ain't nothin’ we can't fix.”

“I can fix.” You tease, raising a brow. Even though you've been down here for damn near a full week, Eddie still hasn't quite gotten the hang of the computer program, not even the basics. He shrugs again with a cute, childlike expression. You roll your eyes with a small grin and face the computer again to fix the prolonged recording.

After another 30 minutes of back and forth, cleaning up parts of the demo you'd just recorded. You spin in your chair to turn to Eddie. “Should we work on el finale?” You widen your eyes at him playfully with a small grin.

His brows raise, and he sits up straighter. “Already?” You let out a soft chuckle.

“Yes, we are already almost done, and it's only,” you look at the clock on your computer, “2:16. If we get the bones of this last song done, we'll still have the rest of the day to get in a final dinner out in town or something.” You wiggle your brows, swaying back and forth on your swivel chair. Eddie shakes his head in disbelief.

“I can't believe it.” He groans and flops back in his chair, throwing his hands over his face, middling his next sentence. “It's almost over.” He pouts sadly. His hands fall from his face, arms falling limp on either sides of his chair. “I can't believe I go back tomorrow. This week has gone by so fast, too fast.” His pout grows as he lifts his head to look at you with sad eyes. You give him a sad smile.

“Yeah, this week has been awesome.” You sigh and turn away from him. “Sucks that it has to come to an end.” You mumble more to yourself. You inhale deeply, clapping your hands together and rubbing them against one another. “The sooner we get this last demo done, the more time we'll have to ourselves before you go.”

Eddie's heart clenched. He wished time would just slow down or stop. He had Wayne waiting for him back home, all his friends, but if he could just stop time, he could ignore his responsibilities and live on in this blissful world with you. He sighs quietly at the unfortunate fact that he does not have that power. He claps his hands together in an attempt to hype himself up, “Alright, then, let's get her done.”

You guys had spent the next three hours recording and spiffing up your final demo. Thankfully, you’d gotten your more emotional songs out the way, so this last one left you both on a high. You looked at the clock on your computer. “5:30. I think we should call it.”

“But-”

“But nothing. Trust me. We could both spend the next 12 hours working on this song and even then it won’t feel ‘done’.” You raise a brow, daring him to continue protesting. Eddie sighs, letting you win. You are first to stand from your chair, Eddie following suit. “I say we leave it there. It’s definitely more than good enough to show the big wigs. Let’s go spend your last night outside my basement.” You smile. Eddie hops up.

“Let’s.” The remainder of that night was spent in that same blissful ignorance that Eddie longed to stay within. Hours spent simply talking, laughing, and existing with you. Eddie couldn’t recall the last time he ever felt so comfortable, so safe with someone. It was like he was around the one person he was missing his whole life. Everything that existed before you ceased to exist. Nothing else mattered. You were it. Quickly, Eddie couldn’t imagine his life without you in it, and, unbelievably, you felt the same.

You had experienced this before or so you thought. You never go into any relationship without the intention of it being life long. That’s one reason why your previous love hurt so much. It crushed you, destroyed your future. With Eddie, that familiar feeling of eternal bond loomed over every conversation. It was like the feeling you had with your bandmates, your family, but more. It left a bittersweet sting in your chest. Every glance, every smile, every touch was seared into your mind, branded on your soul. You couldn’t help but wonder, would he leave just like her? Would he one day realize that you were not meant to be a part of him forever?

That night was spent wordlessly dancing around feelings and questions.

The next morning came all too quickly. The drive to the airport was almost eerie. It was near silent. Neither of you wanted to speak, fearing that it would taint the perfect world you’d created over the last week. Thank heavens for the Black Sabbath album that filled the void.

Now, you silently stood in front of each other, just before the entrance to the TSA line. You inhale sharply, being the first to break the silence and the illusion. “Well,” You start, not really knowing what to say.

“Thank you.” Eddie buts in. His earnest tone grabs your attention. You look up to find nothing but longing and adoration. You wished you could be invisible at that moment. Why’d he have to look at you like that? Was he trying to get you to buy a plane ticket for yourself? You would if he asked.

You tilt your head curiously. “For what?”

“For everything. I…” He trails, “I have had the experience of a lifetime with you. You have no idea how much you’ve impacted me.” He places a hand over his heart. Those eyes.

“No.” you shake your head. “I don’t think you realize how much you’ve impacted me, Eddie.” His name falling from your lips was music to his ears. “You… I…” You sigh a humorless laugh, shaking your head at your failed attempt to find the right words. “I feel like I have so much to say, but I don’t know how to say it.” A calm grin grows on his lips.

“I know exactly what you mean.” He grabs your hand in his, giving it a light squeeze. He could confess everything to you right now in the middle of the airport, but he’s stopped short by the obnoxious sound of a boarding announcement.

He bites his tongue, looking down then back up. His eyes tell the same story, but his smile is now a tight one, one you’d give to hide behind. “Until we meet again, Superstar.” He gives your hand one last squeeze before he lets go. The internal struggle with pulling away leaves his arm physically aching. You already miss the absence of him. You sigh and nod.

“Hopefully, it won’t be too far from now.” Your apparent dejection oddly fills Eddie's heart while simultaneously stinging his chest. You exchange a final sad smile before he rips himself away with much effort.

You stand there, watching him go through TSA, leaving you. Once he’s finally through, he turns back to you, waving wildly from the other side. His antics make you laugh. You have back just as wildly, his laugh just barely above the sound of the busy airport, but your ears instantly focus on the beautiful sound. You wait until he’s out of sight before frowning slightly, turning to leave.

Three weeks. Three whole weeks go by without a single call, without the sound of your voice speaking to him. He felt like a damn child the way this separation anxiety was hitting him. Three weeks later, you’d think the longing would pass, but here he is, blankly staring out the backseat window of Steve’s car. “What the shit, dingus!” A yell and a pothole knock Eddie back into reality.

“Hey, don’t blame me! Blame the asshole who chooses not to fix the roads in this damn park!” Steve and Robin bicker.

“If you know the roads are shit, why the fuck did you go out of your way to hit the damn thing!”

“It’s not like I was trying to fuck up my car!” Steve retorts just as he pulls up to Eddie’s trailer. “Here’s your stop, Munson.” He says, turning his attention to Eddie. Eddie opens the door, muttering a ‘thanks’.

“Jesus Christ, will you just call her already?!” Robin interjects before Eddie can leave. He gives her a look with a raised brow.

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t ‘excuse me’ at me! You have been asking like a kicked puppy all week! It’s such a downer. Grow a pair and give Dream Girl a damn call.” She glares back at him. Eddie rolls his eyes.

“I can’t just call-”

“Like hell you can’t.” Steve joins in. “You’ve talked non-stop for months and stayed at her place for a whole week without making a move. If you want to miss out on your chance,” Steve raises his hands dismissively, “By all means. Drop the ball, Munson, but at least give her a damn call. Without her, you’ve been miserable and bottled up.”

“Call her.” Robin adds firmly. Eddie groans, all too eager to leave the car and this lecture.

“Good-bye, dickheads.” He slams the door closed. The muffled sound of Steve’s yells about ‘slamming his car doors’ could be heard all the way up to the trailer door. Eddie opens up the door and is met with the sight of his uncle, looking like he was just about to leave.

“Hey, kid.” Wayne greets.

“Hey, Wayne.”

“I was just about to head out to work, but I left some food for you in the fridge for when you get hungry.” Eddie walks a little further into the trailer, shrugging off his jacket.

“Thanks, Wayne.” he says as he tosses his jacket over the arm of the recliner sofa in the living room. “I swear to god, I’m gonna find something that will actually allow you to get a normal work and sleep schedule one day.” Wayne chuckles and shakes his head, his exhaustion and age failing to hide behind his small smile.

“Don’t worry about me, kid. You do what you can to have a happy life.” Wayne pauses just as he reaches for the handle to leave. “Oh, by the way, you got a voicemail.” The older man winks at his nephew and exits the trailer. His words and expression makes Eddie’s eyes widen. Eddie rushes into his room and goes straight for his phone, picking it up and dialing for voicemail as he takes a seat on his old mattress.

“Hey, Ed! Guess who.” Your soft laugh rings in his ears like the sweet reverb of a guitar. “Hey, uh, give me a call when you can. I got some good news! I want to hear your voice- Uh… Sorry, hope that isn’t weird, but, you know, I- I miss you, Rockstar. Anyway, yeah. Give me a call. You know the number. Beep.” The voicemail ends, and Eddie can’t help but feel as though his heart is going to break through his ribs and out his chest. You miss him. You want to hear his voice. You miss him.

Eddie quickly dials your number. Ring. Ring. Ring. The silence only heightens his anxiety. Shit, how long ago did you call? Were you even home? Was that from today or- “Hello?”

“Superstar!” Your laugh comes through the receiver, making quick work of a smile on Eddie’s face.

“Hey, Eddie.” Holy shit, he was going to burst. “You get my message?”

“Yes I sure did, beautiful. You miss me already?” As if he wasn’t dying without you by his side. He couldn’t see you, but he sure as hell felt your eyes roll.

“Shut up.” You pout. He could see the image of your face so clearly in his mind.

“What’s the good news?” He continues with a chuckle.

“Well, first off, I’m sorry I’ve been completely MIA for the last couple weeks. I genuinely had zero concept of time since you left.” Your confession causes his heart to grow painfully.

“It’s okay, love.” It wasn’t, but you were calling now, so the absence of you was completely erased.

“Besides that, I was finally able to play the demos we did for the band. Everyone loved what we did.” Your smile was evident in your voice. “We just presented the second draft of it to the big wigs this morning.” You pause for dramatic effect. “They also loved it.” Eddie cheers, jumping up from his seat position. He jumps up and down a couple times. He yells your name into the phone, causing you to laugh.

“That’s- Oh my god, that’s awesome!”

“Yes! I also told them about you, and you’re officially going to be listed and a writer and co-producer of the album!” Eddie feels like he’s going to faint. This is all too good to be true.

“You're kidding.” He sighs out in disbelief.

“Nope.” You drag out the ‘N’ in the word. “With 100% honesty.” Eddie lets out a shocked chuckle, speechless. “Speaking of album credits. We’re going to be having an album release party in Cali on the 15th. Will you come? All paid. You can invite friends, if you want.” As if he needed any convincing.

‘Yes! Of course! I’ll be there!” He falls backward onto his screeching bed. He sighs happily. “I can’t believe this is happening right now. You have no idea.” You chuckle.

“Trust me. I do, in fact, have an idea.” You both pause in a comfortable silence. “Hey, Eddie?” You know he’s still on the line, but you ask anyway.

“Yeah?”

“I-” The silence is loud and long, so much so that Eddie’s brows furrow, heart absolutely pounding in his chest.

“Superstar?” He pulls the phone away from his face, looking at it confused. “Angel? Hello?” He waits a few more seconds but is only met with more silence. He sits up. “What the fuck?” He puts the phone down in its base, hanging it up, before picking it back up, only to be met with silence instead of the usual dial tone. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” He says, angrily slamming the phone down before throwing himself back on the back. Either the phone just so happened to break at the worst possible moment, or, more likely, the phone bill had gone unpaid for too long. Great, this was now going to eat him alive. What were you about to say?

Tag List (OPEN) :

@starmilks @ali-r3n @madelynraemunson

[lovelettersbyj]

Pillow Talk ❌

Requested by @immiinaim96 “If your request are open may i request an angst smut oneshot with ex- changkyun inspired by Zayn's song (pillow talk) if you're not comfortable with smut then just make it angst”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C_3d6GntKbk

Warnings: Some cursing, slight Dom!Changkyun, mentions of cheating, fingering, slight man-handling, alluding to sex.

Pairing: Im Changkyun x Reader.

Word Count: 2,081.

A/N: hiii oh my god, thank you for this request! I’ve been wanting to write more Changkyun and this was honestly a lot harder than I thought it would be, just because the idea of breaking up with him HURT ME. I tried my best to mix smut and angst, but hopefully it wasn’t too sad? Hopefully you enjoy it! 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I brushed the loose strands of hair and tucked them behind my ear as I trudged up the concrete steps. ‘Just get in, grab your stuff, and leave’ I repeated to myself as I approached his door. Closing my eyes and taking in a deep breath, I lifted my hand up and knocked a few, short times against the old oak door.

There was some muffled shuffling behind the door, but after a moment the lock clicked and the door swung open. A gust of cold air mixed freshly sprayed cologne hit my senses; my ex standing at the doorway with a hand towel running over his head. A pair of navy gym shorts clung to his toned hips as he stood cooly for a moment facing me with a stoic facade, “Hey.”

Turning around, he walked back inside, not waiting for me at all. I followed suit, closing the door behind me and shutting it quietly, before turning back and following him into his bedroom.

Standing at the doorway for a moment I paused, my heart rate rising as I looked around. A room that at one point in time felt so familiar, so comforting suddenly had a foreign aura.

“I took out everything I could find, but take a look around in case I missed something.” My ex’s voice rang out from his bathroom, but he presented no other effort to help me.

“Alright.” I replied back softly, noticing the small pile of my pillow and toothbrush resting on his half made bed.

As he stayed occupied in the bathroom, I wandered around the bedroom. Piles of paperwork and old song lyrics messily covered his desk, with his laptop charging underneath them. A small desk light dimmed an orange hue, highlighting a photo frame. Inside it, an old photo of the two of us from one of our first dates, two seemingly happy people smiling brightly. Lifting the frame I looked at his beaming grin, glancing over towards the bathroom. The man from the photo smiling bright now wore a heavy glare, occupied with brushing his teeth, never once paying mind to my presence.

My heart thumped heavily in my chest, and the brave patience I had when first entering the apartment was quickly growing thin. I slipped the picture frame into my tote bag, walking back towards the bed and putting the rest of the things into the bag as well.

A faded green scrunchie that I figured had gotten lost months ago was almost hidden behind his alarm clock on his nightstand. Grabbing the plush silk material, I remembered the time my ex’s hair had grown out during quarantine, and he had taken my scrunchie to tie the smallest ponytail on the top of his head, the two of us laughing at how silly he looked.

My ex walked out of the bathroom now, and I noticed how short his hair is now in comparison to the time we shared. He knew I loved him with long hair but it was clear my opinions meant nothing anymore.

I slipped the scrunchie into my bag, turning now to face him completely, “Well. That should be everything.”

“Okay, cool.” He sighed awkwardly, crossing his arms on his chest. I began to walk myself out of the room before he spoke up again, “Hold on.”

I paused as he crossed in front of me, walking towards his closet. Reaching inside one of his drawers, he pulled out a mustard yellow cardigan of mine. I remembered having worn it when I brought over dinner; my ex busy working late and not having time to cook for himself. Clearly I must have left it here by accident.

He handed it to me, and the faint scent of laundry detergent wafted into my nose. Even through the pain of the breakup, the abandonment of feelings, he still took care of my things.

“Thanks.” I spoke in a meek whisper, fighting hard to avoid making eye contact with him.  Standing in a heavy silence, we both remained speechless before I muttered, chuckling dryly, “Surprised she didn’t steal it.”

“She never even came to the apartment,” My ex rolled his eyes, clearly not amused at my lazy attempt to break the tension, “And it was just a kiss.”

I scoffed, giving him an unimpressed grin, “I don’t think sticking your hand in between her legs qualifies as ‘just a kiss’.” I rose my hands up, using my fingers to create air quotes.

I'm seeing the pain, seeing the pleasure, Nobody but you, 'body but me, ’Body but us, bodies together.

Letting out a deep sigh his body sank down onto his mattress, not having a single ounce of energy to retaliate against me. We’ve had this fight multiple times, there really wasn’t any point to go over it again. But boy, did I love to see how upset he got.

“Are we really going to do this again? Just take your shit and get out.” His deep voice almost growled out, his patience inescapably thin.

I sauntered over, teasingly mocking his defeated tone, “Hmm, I just want to make sure you understand that you fucked up.”

My ex scoffed again, lifting his gaze as his piercing black eyes hooked me in aggressively. Standing up quickly he placed himself in front of me, and suddenly any ounce of confidence against him faded. I’d forgotten how big he was; how wide his shoulders were in contrast to such a thin, toned body. His chest rose and fell more quickly, exasperated with my snippy attitude.

“Why do you keep bringing that up, hm? What’s the point?” He questioned, his eyebrows furrowed and a few strands of his tar black hair lay stray against his forehead.

I gulped, incredibly nervous to answer but even more terrified to look away. He’d trapped me into a corner, and he knew it too.

I remained quiet, not moving an inch under his watchful gaze. He studied my reaction, scoffing dryly, “You were just jealous.”

My mouth parted slightly, reacting with a ghost of a gasp, but he caught on. He chuckled, walking behind me and his left arm slithered forward, gripping onto my waist and pulling me in against his body. His chin rested on my shoulder now, lips parting and kissing softly against my ear. My eyes began to shut at his mellow touch.

I love to hold you close, tonight and always, I love to wake up next to you. I love to hold you close, tonight and always, I love to wake up next to you.

So we'll piss off the neighbors, In the place that feels the tears, The place to lose your fears.

“You always have to start a fight…. So much for all the fun we had, huh?” He spoke up after a while, kissing away at my earlobe. His right hand slowly made his way down towards my thighs, fingertips dancing along the skin and pushing softly, desperately.

“Who says it’s gone?” I uttered out, slowly moving my hand on top of his, guiding it closer between my thighs.

His lips perked up into a smile, taking the invitation to keep going. In a swift flick of his wrist, he had unbuttoned my jean shorts and his muscular hand slipped itself easily behind the denim confines. A rush of cold chills darted along my arms all the way up to the small hairs along my neck. With his right pointer finger, he repeated a slow, circular motion around my clit, making me moan out in pleasure.

“Shh, quiet, you don’t want to alert the neighbors, now do you?” He growled in my ear, feeling himself harden against my back as he sped up his finger movement.

“No, no—”

“No what?”

“No, Changkyun.”

“That’s it… yes,” Without a hint of warning he slipped two long finger inside of me, pumping with haste as my breath hitched in my throat. My head fell back onto his shoulder, and his left hand abandoned my waist to reach up and wrap around my neck in a slightly tight hold.

My left hand scrambled to hold onto his left arm, using my right hand to drive his palm deeper inside of me, “An-another finger…please, Changkyun.”

“Now look who’s suddenly begging for more.” His husky voice taunted, then snuck in two more fingers.

My fingernails dug into his pale skin as my entire body began to shake. My eyelids begged to shut, a gasp got stuck in my throat as a hazy white cloud took over my vision. A knot pulled and tightened deep in my gut, a swirling heat pulsing against the skill of Changkyun’s long fingers that thumped inside me.

“How mad would you be if I suddenly stopped, hm?” He egged me on, his hips pressing into me with a slight rhythm as he attempted to ease some of the tension hidden inside his boxers “That dirty mouth would just start another fight with me, wouldn’t you, baby?”

“Oh fuck.. off!” My voice trembled with delight, body trembling obviously as his pumping never slowing as I rode myself against his hand. And just as quickly as he brought me to my high, he pulled out suddenly and left an empty ache in between my legs.

Yeah, reckless behavior, A place that is so pure, so dirty and raw. In the bed all day, bed all day, bed all day; Fucking and fighting on. It's our paradise and it's our war zone; It’s our paradise and it's our war zone.

“What the fuck was that?” I was irritated, turning around to face him.

He wore a teasing smirk across his face, undoubtedly amused with how easily I gave into him. I shook my head at him, then lunged forward, practically jumping into his arms and kissing his lips harshly. He scrambled to take hold of me, finding his grip for a moment before choosing to take a step forward and letting both of our bodies collapse onto the bed.

“You really should leave.” He groaned as I peppered my lips against the neck of his skin, biting and kissing against the pale flesh softly.

“Mmm,” I moaned airly, “And you should stop being such a fucking tease.”

We both chuckled softly, taking a quiet moment between us to realize what was happening.

We always found a reason to fight, to push each other close to the edge and make one another snap. He’d always love when I was a brat and now I used this against him, knowing it would make him crumble and give in. This is exactly why we kept prolonging the breakup; we just couldn't fully let each other go. Today was like every other day we used as an excuse to see each other.

Changkyun fucked me with no regard, bruising his hands into my thighs as he pressed me down onto the mattress. I’d scream out his name with a bitter anger, but not directed at him. At the fact that this could potentially be the last time he made me feel this way.

The sweat that would trickle from his forehead and drip down onto my sternum as his hips pulsed against my pelvis; no doubt making it painful for me to move the next day but just an added bonus for him, knowing how he’d hurt me in this way.

Pillow talk, My enemy, my ally. Prisoners; Then we're free, it's a thin line.

His arms clung around me, soft inhales and exhales slightly hitting the hair on the back of my neck as he drifted to sleep behind me.

We lay lush against the pillows, his bedsheets doing almost nothing to cover our naked bodies that clung to each other desperately. My arm was draped on top of his, thumb brushing against his wrist as I lay substantially more awake.

I loved Changkyun, but we definitely couldn’t keep going like this. He had a new album coming out, which meant more schedules, and more busy nights. Plus, I couldn’t even bring up the courage to tell him that I was moving out of the country.

So I swallowed down the tough confession, and I pushed down the constricting feeling in my chest that was aching to tell him the truth.

“Stay the night?” His deep, sleepy voice quaked, nuzzling his nose deeper into the back of my neck.

I nodded, squeezing his arm softly with a trembling touch, “Okay, Changkyun.”

[tataswish]

❝   at the rooftop  /  myg.

━   ・  paring:  aspiring rapper!min yoongi x reader. ━   ・ genre:  neighbors au, smut, fluff, with a pinch of angst. ━   ・ word count:  5.0k.   ━   ・  contains:  mutual pining, dirty talk, unprotective sex (wrap it before you tap it!), rooftop sex, and a little bit of sadness at the end. ━   ・  summary:  in which you look back at the memories you’ve made with yoongi, the neighbor who you once fell in love with. heavily inspired by the song ‘the one that got away.’

author’s note:  i had a dream about this so... here it is. LMAO. it’s been i while since i last wrote so excuse my rambling but happy reading! i thought about making a mini series out of this but... we’ll see. <3

The day you first met Min Yoongi was a memory you always looked fondly back at.

It happened one gloomy afternoon. After another tiresome day at work, you decided to find solace on your apartment building’s rooftop—a place that easily became your go-to whenever you wanted to spend time in solitude. No one ever really was up there (with the exception of the parties thrown by residents from time to time), so it was always strange seeing someone else who wasn’t you up there.

There was something about that place that brings you so much comfort. Maybe it was the string lights that hang perfectly across the ledges, the mixture of house plants displayed around the area, or the inviting smell of vanilla greeting your nose from the candles on almost every surface—it was nice. If the chance presented itself, you would be there for hours on end doing nothing and be content with it.

Making your way towards the rattan sofa that sat right beside the ledge, your tracks were suddenly put to a stop upon seeing an unfamiliar face sitting at that very same spot. He was leaning back on one side of  the off-white cushion, legs slightly spread apart, chilled bottle of beer in hand as his eyes gaze absentmindedly at the view of the city skyline beside him. He must’ve been so lost in thought, because even with you standing in front of him, he didn’t move.

“Is that seat taken?” you asked amidst the silence while feigning a warm smile.

That was enough for him to finally snap out of his trance, because you could see him jump from his spot and immediately straighten his posture. You couldn’t help but stifle a soft laugh. “No—no, yeah, no. It’s not. I was getting ready to leave anyway, so—” he was already beginning to stand from where he was sitting, obviously flustered at the situation he’s been put in.

“I don’t mind sharing!” you interjected before impulsively placing a hand on the stranger’s arm as some sort of reassurance. At the realization, your eyes began to grow two times its size, and you retracted it at an instant with your cheeks flushed.

It was silent for a moment. Between you trying to gage how he felt about the sudden contact and him wondering what the fuck just happened, it clearly triggered some sort of fight of flight response. Your mind was scrambling, trying to find the right thing to say, but before you could even open your mouth—

He laughed. It was a low, yet bubbly laugh—one that you never thought would eventually fall in love with. As the lights above perfectly illuminated his features, that moment was also the first time you saw him smile. There was something stirring up within you, a feeling that gave you so much warmth from merely watching this stranger express happiness, even if it was for a brief moment.

In fact, it was so contagious that you began to laugh too.

You didn’t think you’d enjoy being comfortable with silence until you met Yoongi. Despite the fact that you spent a majority of that evening sitting in silence, it didn’t bother you at all. In most instances with others, you almost always felt obligated to say something, anything after a while but you didn’t feel that pressure with him—this stranger that you’ve only met three hours ago.

Still, you basked in the moment. The two of you sat together on that large couch, sharing the view. You were sitting with your legs criss-crossed, both arms resting over them, while Yoongi relaxed by sinking deeper into the cushion, one arm resting on the couch’s back—which was also right behind yours. You immediately learned that he, unlike yourself, wasn’t much of a talker. In the few hours you’ve spent with him on the rooftop, you’ve only learned: his name, age, and the fact that he moved into this building just today. Why? That was a mystery you’ve yet to discover. You also didn’t want to be that person who practically interrogates the new guy, trying to discover his whole life story in the span of one night. If he was living in the same building, you were confident you’d see him around from time to time anyway. Besides, it was evident that the two of you were already comfortable with each other’s presence.

“What kind of music do you listen to?” The question took you by surprise. From staring at the skyline, he then glanced back at you, eyebrow slightly cocked.

It took you a minute to think of something. If Yoongi was the type of person who took people’s music tastes seriously, you wanted to make sure you’d give a solid response—but then again, you wanted to avoid an obvious copout answer either. Truth be told, your music taste was all over the place. Shuffling any of your Spotify playlists was a dangerous game, because it could jump from contrasting genres that wouldn’t make any sense.

So you kind of… panicked.

“I like anything,” you blurted out, already regretting your choice of words. Deep inside, you were cringing, because it left a bad taste in your mouth.

You knew he was going to be disapproving of that answer, but he surprised you with a different reaction instead. Instead, he let out a small chuckle. “Anything, huh? What about rap? I have something I want you to listen to.”

Intrigued, you adjusted your position on the couch, eyes watching him as he shuffled to get his phone out of his pocket. The black, chunky headphones that hugged his neck were then offered to you, and you flashed a small grin upon taking it before putting it on yourself. At this point you were curious. So, your prying set of eyes continued to watch his phone’s screen as he scrolled through a list of what seemed to be recordings until selecting a file that was named Trivia 轉: Seesaw.

You weren’t sure what to expect. Initially, you thought this was some random song recommendation that he wanted to share with you, but it was much more than that. The moment you heard the artist of this track begin to sing the first verse, you were left in shock. “Is this you?” you mouthed quietly over to him, who to your surprise, was now sitting incredibly close to you. It took you a minute to notice the way that your knees were pressed against one another, faces inches apart.

He smiled bashfully with a nod. Truth be told, you didn’t expect it. Yet, you were sitting there, head nodding to the beat as the melody graced your ears. Despite only knowing him for only three hours, you knew that there was something about this song that… suited him so well. You weren’t sure if it was the eloquent rapping or the deep lyrics behind it, it all screamed Yoongi.

And you were in love with it. It became one of your favorite things to listen to.

“I can’t believe…” you trailed off once the song finished, gently lifting the headphones off of you to give them back. “I went on with my life without being blessed by this song until now. Yoongi, that was fucking amazing. If I knew you longer, I would’ve started crying but… I spared you the misery tonight.”

He rolled his eyes with a smile, flattered—but feeling shy at the same time. “Relax, ____, you don’t have to kiss my ass. I can take criticism. It hasn’t even been released yet; I just wanted to get your opinion on it.” Chewing on the inside of his cheek, he looked at you expectantly. “Tell me the truth.”

“I’m serious, Yoongi. I swear on my life,” you assured softly, a smile growing across your lips as your hand raises to swear by it. “It’s definitely one of those songs that people are going to play on repeat. Everyone’s going to love it.”

“Yeah?” he asked, attempting to hide his widening grin.

At this point your gazes were locked with one another, and you could’ve sworn he could hear the rampant beating of your heart. “Yeah,” you confidently answered back.

Later that night was the time you discovered that Min Yoongi was actually your newfound neighbor. It all happened by accident—the two of you meant to part ways after leaving the rooftop, but ended up taking the same flight of stairs down, walking through the same hallway, and stopping right next to each other after saying “bye” at the same time upon reaching both of your doors.

“Stalking me already? Really?” you quipped playfully, looking back after opening your door.

“How do I know you’re not stalking me first?” he joked in return, suggestively raising an eyebrow. He finished unlocking his own door too.

“I mean, I lived here first, so… pack it up Joe from You.” And your answer was enough for the two of you to fall into a giggling fit after.

Yoongi was the first to say goodbye. He continued to stand before his door, hand on the knob despite not wanting to step inside any time soon. “Thanks for letting me crash your alone time today... and for listening to my shitty music. It was nice.”

“Of course,” you replied warmly. “I won’t argue with you, but know that as of today, I’ve become Suga’s #1 fan. Expect me to be in the front row of your shows from now on.”

Even with the roll of his eyes, you could clearly tell that he was amused. “Night, _____. Just don’t fall in love with me, alright? I don’t date fans.”

“Sweet dreams, neighbor. And don’t worry, I don’t plan on falling in love with you any time soon.”

Yet somewhere along the way, you found yourself falling in love.

He’d been your neighbor for a few months now, and the two of you practically became attached to the hip. You later learned that when he first moved into the city, he didn’t expect to make any sort of friends. Yoongi only planned on making music 24/7—hoping to kickstart his music career after some time. Apparently, before he moved into your building, he was working in some financial firm crunching numbers for eight hours straight. He was engaged too. But, when he revealed to his fiancée (now ex fiancée) that he wanted to quit his job and pursue music… she didn’t take it very well. So, they later separated and Yoongi searched for a new beginning in a city miles away from everything he once knew.

Unlike his ex, you strove to become extremely supportive of his music career. In fact, he was supportive of your teaching career too. On Wednesday mornings, he would always volunteer to come into your classroom and sing a few songs in front of your kindergarten students during circle time. He’d also stay to read a book or two before heading out to get lunch—only to wait for your break so that the two of you could eat together. Then on Friday nights, you would be standing front row in his shows. While his venues were mostly at nightclubs and the city nightlife wasn’t your thing, you were still there—singing along to his music and at times making the best attempt to rap as fast as he could. You’d wait for him by the back after his set, and it became a tradition to head to the nearest convenience store to fill up on ramen, alcohol, and shrimp chips (a staple for every night in).

It was hard not to fall for someone like Yoongi. There was just something about him that you absolutely adored, and even though you were sure he didn’t reciprocate those feelings in that way, you were okay with that. Having him be a part of your life was enough.

The two of you always joked about it though, how you were each other’s soulmates. How one would always complete the other; plus, sharing this sort of mutual understanding that doesn’t need to be talked about. You’ve never felt this strong pull with anyone else, and he’s admitted it too.

“There she is,” you heard the familiar voice coo from afar. Looking up from your phone, you spotted Yoongi leaving through the back door of the nightclub, approaching as if you were the one who just finished performing a show. Still, the grin on your lips couldn’t stop spreading at the sight of him.

“Oh my god, Suga! I’m like, your biggest fan! Can I get a picture?!” you shrieked, attempting to put on your best impression of the teenage girls who’ve been approaching him often lately. Even with all of his shows taking place in venues that only allowed people over the age of twenty, he still harbored a lot of young fans. While they weren’t allowed to watch his shows, they showed their support in other ways.

He rolled his eyes but attained the beaming smile swept across his lips. In all the time you’ve known him, you’ve discovered that Yoongi was never really one to crack a smile with others. But with you? You were the only exception to that.

His skin was glistening from the beads of sweat that trickled down after performing, and you took it upon yourself to gingerly sweep his coffee-colored bangs off of his face with your fingers. He was staring at you at this point, and you were desperately trying to keep it together without melting into putty in his hands. Because one thing’s for sure—the way he looks at you will always be your weakness. “What?” you challenged, now using a tissue you pulled from your bag to lightly dab his facial features. Your voice was faint, quiet enough to still be heard with your faces only inches apart.

“Nothing,” he replied lowly, stifling a small laugh. “I like looking at you.”

After another successful trip to the convenience store, you and Yoongi went back home to change into more comfortable clothes before meeting back up at the rooftop. It was nearing midnight, so the city was getting ready to turn in. The buildings gradually began to turn their lights off, which only made the stars littered across the night sky shine brighter than before. The rooftop was well-lit thanks to the string lights and candles around you, and even with the cool December breeze sweeping through, you were comfy underneath the plush blanket that wrapped around both of your bodies.

It was nights like this that you held special to your heart.

“Be honest with me,” Yoongi brought up amidst the comfortable silence. He placed the plastic bowl that held his ramen onto the coffee table in front of him before looking back at you. “Do you think I made a mistake? You know… leaving everything in my old life behind to do this? I mean—don’t get me wrong, I love it, I just… feel guilty. There’s always this voice in the back of my head that’s yelling at me for being selfish. My life was fine before, you know? I screwed it all up.”

You blinked slowly. It wasn’t the first time he’d shared his doubts with you, but it was always concerning how much it lingered in his head. At the end of the day, what’s done is done. No matter how many times he feels guilty, he shouldn’t look back anymore. This was his life now.

But how could you put it into words that’ll make him understand?

Finishing your food after setting your own bowl down, you took a moment to process everything and think of an answer. You knew very well that you weren’t some licensed therapist capable of giving credited advice, but you were fairly decent at providing comfort to others. “I don’t think so,” you finally replied, keeping your gaze on him steady. “You have to think about it this way, Yoongi. Yeah you were fine before, but… were you happy? Like, actually happy? And are you happy now?”

Those questions left Yoongi speechless. He really took the time to ponder on it, chewing on his bottom lip in thought. You tried to read his expressions, though, it wasn’t any help. It was quiet. Aside from the soft music playing in the background from the small bluetooth speaker that sat on the ledge, the silence that simmered between you two was piercing.

“I guess I wasn’t,” he breathed after a short sigh. “I was miserable.”

You felt his pain at that moment. There was something about the way he said it—how it made your heart wrench and your stomach churn. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay, it’s not your fault,” he waved it off, and you could sense the slight frustration in his tone. “If anything, meeting you made everything better.”

Biting back a smile, you instantly began to feel the heat rush through your cheeks. Your chest was pounding and your head was dizzy—shocked at how those little words could make your head go haywire. Still, you did your very best in keeping it collected. “Yeah?” you asked, sounding hopeful. Your glistening eyes met his, shifting your body a bit to fully face his.

“Yeah,” he reassured, unable to keep his smile any longer.

That very night was the night Yoongi decided to be bold. He brought a hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind ear, only to lessen the distance between both of your faces. Even with your head spinning, you were still able to admire his soft features—the way his eyes literally sparkled when they looked at you, the way his rosy cheeks from the alcohol became more prominent. “You make me so fucking happy, ____. I thought you were just going to be another face I’d see from time to time when we met that night, but… you became more than that. I think I’m in love with you.”

And at that moment, it felt like time had stopped between you two. That nothing else mattered in the world aside from the fact that Min Yoongi—the neighbor you fell in love with—felt the same way.

“Be honest with me,” you decided to match his boldness by using a free hand to gently sweep his bangs off of his face. They were trembling a little, but he didn’t seem to notice. His eyes kept its focus on you and you only, feigning that same look that always makes you crumble.

He nodded, egging you to continue.

“Would you kiss me right now if I asked?”

Your lips were immediately met by his. It was sweet, and you could taste the hint of ramen broth and beer that lingered. The way his lips felt matched the way that he kissed you—soft, and tender. His hands found their way on your hips beneath the blanket your bodies shared, while yours rested perfectly on both sides of his jaw. With chests pressed against one another, you noticed that his heart was pounding too. And that only made you smile in between kisses.

At this point, neither one of you wanted to pull apart. Instead, your lips were roughly colliding in full-force, the intensity of the kiss amplifying. Yoongi’s hand began to trail down further until his fingers reached the inside of your thigh. Your breath hitched at his touch, desperately wanting him to explore further. But he chose to stop. “Yoongi,” you said his name in an unintentional soft whine after pulling away, practically begging for more friction.

Rational thinking was thrown out of the window tonight. You were riding from the high of Yoongi practically confessing his love for you, and all you wanted to do was have him. All of him.

“Hm?” he let out a quiet hum, fingers dancing closer and closer. His lips continued to wander across your skin, peppering kisses all over your neck and down to your exposed collar bones.

“Touch me,” you whispered into his ear. “Please.”

He didn’t waste another moment. He reached over to slide your pajama pants down in one quick pull and you assisted in kicking them out of the way. It gave him leeway to use the pads of his fingers to gently massage your clothed core, pressing just enough to provide pressure that had your lips leaving quiet moans that were thankfully, still masked by the music in the background. “Take this off and spread your legs for me,” he demanded lowly.

You’ve never seen this side of him before—but god he knew how to turn you on. If the blanket wasn’t over you right now, you would’ve felt exposed from the wetness pooling in between your thighs. But you did as you were told without any hesitation, sliding your panties down until they hugged your ankles, kicking them off entirely, leaving your bottom half bare beneath the warm fabric.

Yoongi took it as a cue to slide his fingers between your legs and prying them apart. You’ve never felt more vulnerable than at this moment. Even with the blanket hovered securely over your body, the way his gaze was on you was more than enough to make you feel like he owned you tonight. And you were okay with that. Slender fingers dipping into your dripping core, he used it as a way to collect the overflown juices before using it as a lubricant to massage your throbbing clit. His pace was agonizingly slow, but it still made your back arch off of the couch in pleasure.

The sight only made him mumble profanities under his breath.

“Do you think about me when you touch yourself, ____?” he asked, dark eyes still locked on yours. He was still close, and you could feel his hot breath tickle your skin at each word. Slowly inserting two fingers on the get-go, your eyes impulsively roll back at the way they stretched your walls in the best possible way. His pace soon began to quicken without a fair warning, and you couldn’t help but whimper each time they pump into your g-spot. “Do you think about me fucking you like this?”

Your headspace was such a euphoric state that you couldn’t even find the right words for an answer. Rather than saying anything, you only nodded feverishly to let him know that he was doing everything right. The thought of having Yoongi’s fingers fucking tirelessly inside you was more than enough to rile you up and near your orgasm.

You’ve thought about it multiple times before. Every time you see him on that stage, swiping the sweat off of the back of his neck that left his fingers glistening, your mind begins to wander into dangerous places. It was hot—there’s no denying it.

You were close. But as soon as you were about to finish, the momentum was put to a stop, because you took it upon yourself to remove his fingers out of you on your own. Confused, Yoongi began to look at you as if he’s done something wrong, though, you hoped he’d get the hint the minute your hand found its way to palm his hardening erection through his sweatpants. “I wanna finish inside you,” you breathed, planting kisses that began from his neck and worked its way up to his lips.

“Then do it.”

Using both of your hands to pull both his sweatpants and boxer briefs down, allowing for his length to spring free. After he successfully kicked them both off of him, you stood from your previous position to straddle him, putting both hands on his shoulders to support yourself. His eyes carefully watched you as you slowly unzipped your hoodie, revealing that you wore nothing underneath.

He was mesmerized. And it was all for him—with the blanket still covering both of your bare bodies, he was the only one who could see you like this. No one else.

A devilish grin laced your lips at the sight of him speechless as you helped remove his sweatshirt. Slowly but surely, you lifted yourself up slightly to line Yoongi’s erection up before sinking in.

The two of you both let out a satisfied moan in unison, and Yoongi’s hands began to wander around your warm body—hands stopping at your ass to dig his fingers into your flesh as you rocked your hips at a steady pace. His mouth on the other hand was busy with your breasts, tongue flicking against each hardened nipple even as they bounced.

“Do you think about me fucking you like this?” you mimicked him in a playful yet sultry tone, using both of your hands to lift his face up in order to make full-on eye contact with you while you continued to ride him. He threw his head back in response, all while still keeping his gaze on yours. From his expression alone, you could tell that he was wrapped around your fingers.

But instead of giving you any sort of real answer, he rolled his eyes and pulled you in for a kiss, satisfying his craving for your lips once more. Before you knew it, your positions had switched, and you were fully lying down on the couch with Yoongi on top of you. The blanket had been partially discarded since Yoongi couldn’t care less about it, only draping over the bottom half of your bodies. You let out a small shiver as you felt the cold air, but it all seemed to disappear the minute you felt his length fill you up once more.

“You’re my weakness, _____,” you heard him say softly once your foreheads touch, his lips brushing against yours. His thrusts were at a slow pace, but it was still enough to hit your g-spot each time. “After meeting you that night, I knew I was fucked.”

It was unfair—how Min Yoongi knew how to tug your heartstrings in any situation (literally). There was nothing more intimate than this, though. The two of you were left vulnerable, and he found the perfect moment to say it. “I feel the same way,” you whispered, hands lifted up to cup his flushed cheeks. “Because I think I’m in love with you too.”

Yoongi began to pick up the pace upon hearing you confess. With one hand gripping tightly on the couch’s arm rest until his knuckles turn white, another snuck in between your bodies to have his thumb rub your clit, matching the intensity of his thrusts.

“Yoongi, I’m so close—” you whined quietly into his ear while he continued to fuck you senselessly, walls fluttering and tightening around him. There was that familiar feeling building up inside you, and you were so close to coming undone. Yoongi continued to snap his hips into yours while tracing quick circles around your sensitive bundle of nerves until you felt yourself let go. Your body jolted as you cried in please, and even then, he didn’t stop. He milked every last drop of the wave of pleasure he’d given you that left you out of breath. There was this buzzing that refused to leave your ears, and your eyes were watery from the overwhelming feeling.

Smirking in satisfaction, each thrust became more sloppy and erratic. It didn’t take long for him to follow suit, pulling out to finish on you. He groaned as you felt his warmth spill across your frame, panting from the intense session the two of you just shared.

“Damn, I made a mess,” he said playfully after reaching out for a napkin on the table to wipe your body clean, which earned a soft slap on his end. He only laughed once you were able to sit back up, leaning in to steal a quick kiss on the lips.

Once the two of you were finished getting dressed and cleaning the area, you both decided to stay on the rooftop for a few more minutes. Both of you were nuzzled against one another for warmth, your back pressed against Yoongi while he had an arm wrapped around you. SUGAR by BROCKHAMPTON was playing in the background, and Yoongi was singing softly to the chorus while you quietly admired his small performance.  

“Remember when you said you wouldn’t fall in love with a fan?” the words left your lips with a smile, recalling the memory like it was only yesterday. At this point, you were just there to tease him. “Tsk. Can’t believe I’m into a hypocrite.”

He laughed, nose digging into your hair. “You’re different. I’d do anything for you.”

↳   PRESENT DAY.

“Ready to go, babe?”

You’ve spent the past hour sitting on the rooftop’s sofa in solitude, admiring the blue sky in front of you. You were quietly humming to Suga’s Trivia 轉: Seesaw to yourself as you watched the view, until you were interrupted by the familiar voice entering your ears. The smile on your face widened as he approached you, offering a hand to help you up.

It’d been months since you’ve last heard from Yoongi. He was off doing bigger, better things—and you were proud of him for that. After spending hours and hours of going back and forth with one another one night, the two of you had the realization that the long-term goals you both had didn’t align. He was asked to commit to a world tour for the next year and a half, and you wanted to stay where your life was. Here.

Yoongi was more than willing to drop his entire career to be with you, but you knew it wasn’t right. So, no matter how painful it felt, you had to let go. He’s made so many sacrifices to get to where he was, and you refused to be the reason why he couldn’t live his dreams. No matter how much you both loved each other.

Deep inside, you’ve always hoped that he’d come home. That one night you’d find him sitting in that very same spot on the rooftop, legs sprawled apart, absentmindedly staring at the night sky. But it’s been months. No calls, no texts—only a meek dial tone at the end of the line.

It was a hard pill to swallow, but Min Yoongi was simply the right person you’ve met at the wrong time.

“Yeah,” you answered Jungkook softly before taking his hand to lift yourself from the seat. A quiet giggle left your lips once your boyfriend pulled you closer to pepper kisses on your cheek, and the two of you began your walk out of the building. “Let’s get out of here.”

[krreader]

lyrics straight from the heart.

pairing: min yoongi x reader fandom: bts warnings: / genre: fluff word count: 1k+

summary: five years together, that surely was something to be celebrated. but what gift do you give someone that doesn’t want anything? it had to be something special...

a/n: two yoongi stories in a row, but I had so much inspiration for this one today, thank you so much @nendere​ for sending it in! (also, please don’t roast my lyrics writing skills, there’s a reason I chose creative writing and not music writing as my hobby lol)

When it came down to birthdays, anniversaries or Christmas, coming up with a present for Yoongi was never easy.

What do you give someone that can easily buy everything he wants himself? What do you get someone that, whenever you asked, would reply with: “I don't want anything”?

Not getting anything, like he always liked to say, was out of the picture, especially for your five year anniversary. This was a very special day and you wanted to give him something that he'd treasure.

“What are you doing?” your co-worker looked over your shoulder and then started laughing when she saw what you were scribbling down, “Pretty sure that has nothing to do with the lab reports that the boss wanted you to get done?”

“Already finished those,” you sighed heavily, “Remember how I told you about my boyfriend and me having our five year anniversary tomorrow? Well, I just couldn't come up with anything to get him and so I tried to think of what he loved the most and... that's music.”

“You're writing him a song?” that intrigued her, so much, that she grabbed a stool and pulled it up next to you, looking over whatever it was that you were writing. Only that the page consisted of nothing but crossed out lines, “Aaaand it's not going so well, apparently.”

“I'm working in a lab, that alone should tell you that my writing ability is only good for reports. Song writing? Not really my forte.”

She seemed to think for a moment, then she shrugged, “Maybe you're putting too much thought into it. Since he's so good at it, you think you have to be just as good or maybe even better. But this isn't something that you want to be turned into an actual song, right? This is just for him...”

“Yeah.. you're right.”

“Then stop thinking so much about how to make it perfect and just write what you feel for him. He loves you, so he'll appreciate it no matter what.”

She had a point there. A gift like this was bound to make him happy, even if it was just because you put so much effort in it. You simply had to show him how much you loved and appreciated him. As long as it came straight from your heart, you'd be okay.

“I uh..- got you something,” you slowly got up out of his arms, Yoongi still sitting on the couch with a glass of whiskey in his hands, “I'm not sure if you'll like it, but you never want anything and..- whatever,” you handed him the envelope, the heat on your cheeks spreading, “Just read it.”

“Ooooh, is it a love letter?” Yoongi chuckled, but immediately put down his drink and began to open the letter.

As he did, you sat down next to him again, but this time, with a bit of space between you two. Only so you could look at him properly and see his reaction.

Whatever it was that Yoongi had expected, it clearly wasn't what he was holding in his hands now. The moment he realized it was a song that you wrote for him, his demeanor changed. Became serious, but at the same time,soft.

It wasn't long, he easily could have read through it in less than a minute, yet he took his time and continued reading over the lines again and again.

You could see him blink a few times, his thumb brushing over one line that he ended up reading out loud: “Nothing in this world could have convinced me, but once I met you, I knew there was no going back, back to a life of loneliness and sadness. I found happiness through you, started loving me through you, started loving life through you..”

Now that he was reading it out loud, you didn't know if you should cringe or like it.

But this wasn't for you to decide anyways.

“I know it's not perfect, but.. you always say that turning your feelings into a song makes it so much more powerful. I just wanted you to know how much I love you... and thank you... for everything.”

Yoongi was rarely emotional, but when he was, he really was. He tried to hold it back at first, but when he pressed his thumb and index finger into his eyes, you knew that it was over.

Without saying anything, you immediately slid closer and wrapped your arms around him, cradling him against your chest and kissing the top of his head while he was silently crying.

“I love you, Min Yoongi. So much..”

Yoongi didn't always let you listen to their new album beforehand and this time it was one of those albums for which he hadn't given you any spoilers for.

The first time you heard it was when the album was released and you were listening to it with the others at their little 'album party' that they always threw whenever a new album was released.

All the boys and their partners were just sitting around the room, eating and drinking while listening to their newest masterpiece.

You were standing at the window with your own drink, staring into the night sky as the voices of the boys filled the room.

Only that you froze when you heard your boyfriend rap a rather.. familiar line.

“The life of loneliness and sadness I once knew, gone, gone the moment I met you. Happiness and love, the only things I could think of whenever I looked at you.”

None of the others seemed to realize what this was, so you assumed that Yoongi had kept it a secret.

A secret that only you and him knew.

He wrapped his arms around you from behind, his hand over yours and his fingers brushing over your engagement ring that has since been added to your hand.

“I love you, future Min (Y/N). So much...”

[kurokens]

Burn traitor | Geto Suguru

anime/manga: jujutsu kaisen

character: geto suguru

words: 2080

notes: hey! this is my first geto piece and it's angst hehe. I had this idea for a while now and I finally found a song that inspired me to write it, the lyrics do not really match the scenario but I still think the atmosphere fits. I think it's one of my favourite I've written, not that I wrote it well because, I didnt, I just like making myself suffer apparently because I love writting angst oops... also sorry for any mistakes english isn't my native language! also my requests are open you can find my rules here.

not proof read

song rec: burn x traitor mashup - Hamilton & Olivia Rodrigo

genre: angst

warnings: manga spoilers, violence, major character death, murder, some blood, i think that's it, tell me if i missed anything

You met Geto when you were both in high school, honestly your meeting wasn’t the most romantic, in fact he saved you from a curse on that day. Before meeting him, you had no idea what a curse was and if anyone told you they existed you probably would have laughed in their face. But unfortunately for you, they existed and you wished you had learned about them beforehand, because this was one of the scariest moments of your life. However, thanks to this unfortunate night you met the love of your life. The one who saved you ended up becoming the very person you would become infatuated with. After saving you, you both started seeing each other, going on some dates before making it official. You both seemed to have what people would call the perfect love, your friends would often tell you that you found your soulmates and you truly believed you did. At least that’s what you thought.

Geto had been sent on a mission a week ago, but he promised he would be back for your 2 years anniversary, he said that no matter what he would always find a way to come back to you. So why wasn’t he here, why were you crying in the arms of your boyfriend’s best friend while he was trying his best to contain his own? Why was he saying Geto left? That he killed his parents and ran away to become a curse user?

“He wouldn’t. He can’t do this, he would have told me, warned me at least.” You cried to Gojo.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to believe it either, but I saw him, I talked to him and he did, there is no going back. He won’t change his mind.” He told you, sadness clear in his voice.

“I need to see him too, tell me where I can see him.”You said, begging Gojo with your eyes.

“I think it’s best for you if you didn’t. He didn’t hesitate to kill his own parents, I think it would be safer for you as a non-sorcerer to just let him go, and maybe move away.” The white-haired man tried explaining, but you could only shake your head at him.

“No! You’re lying, you’re trying to keep me away from him. He would never do this to me, to them. You’re a liar Gojo!” Your cries getting louder with each word, you tried escaping the sorcerer’s grasp but it was in vain.

“I’m sorry.” The young man once again said, still not letting go of your struggling figure. “I can’t let you get hurt more than this, I know this is why he didn’t come back to you, he can’t hurt you. Please listen to me, at least this once.”

And listen to him you did, it took a lot of convincing but you did, kind of. You were feeling a lot of things, sadness, anger, betrayal, but deep down you still missed him. You told yourself that maybe he did want to come to you but couldn’t because he knew the higherups would be able to find him here, you were trying to convince yourself that maybe he was missing you just as much and that he would come to find you later, when they wouldn’t be searching for him so heavily. So you waited, a day, then two, and then three, and soon days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months, which turned into years.

It had already been three years, three years since Suguru vanished from your life, three years since he left you behind as if you never mattered to him, as if you didn’t spend two years of your life loving and supporting him with everything you got. Three years since you started waiting for him, hoping to get a sign from him, a letter, a phone call, anything that would tell you he was still alive, and missed you just as much as you did. Yes, of course you were angry, you wanted to scream at him from what he did, but, a part of you still wanted to believe that none of this was true, and that he didn’t do this of his own volition.

It was an ordinary day for you, you were in your apartment, watching the tv while reminiscing about your days with Geto, when a knock on your door interrupted your train of thoughts. Almost like a robot you took yourself to the door, thinking it might just be Gojo checking on you like he had been doing for three years. But when you opened your door, it wasn’t the white-haired sorcerer standing in front of you, no. It was the very man you were previously thinking about, the one you thought you would never see again. You couldn’t believe your eyes, you hoped so hard for this day to happen that now it suddenly became real, you were starting to doubt your sanity.

“Su-suguru?” You eventually let out under your breath after staring at him for what felt like hours.

“Hey…” He awkwardly waved at your frozen figure.

“Hey? Hey??? Is that all you have to say?” You asked dumbfounded, finally snapping out of your daydream. “How dare you? You disappeared right before our second anniversary after promising me you would always come back to me. Three years Geto, you left for three years. And now you come back like nothing happened and the first thing you say is hey? Is that all I’m worth? Didn’t I deserve at least a goodbye? An explanation? A letter? Anything? Do you know what I’ve been told about you? Do know what they said you’ve done?? They said I shouldn’t try to reach you because you would kill me too.” All of your pent-up frustration and anger ultimately getting the best you, and before you could stop them tears were running down your cheeks.

“Look, I’m truly sorry for making you go through all of this. It was never my intention.” The black-haired sorcerer started.

“You’re sorry?” You said incredulously, years of repressed anger finally bursting out. “You think a sorry will cut it? Geto do you know what I went through? I’ve waited for a sign from you for three years. For three years I’ve prayed and hoped that none of what I’ve been told was right. I believed in you, believed in what we had. But now that you’re standing before me all of that hope in you has completely vanished. You don’t even look a bit remorseful for what you’ve made me go through. Sorry? Let me laugh. Are you sorry for the sleepless nights? For the hours spent crying over your disappearance? For the void in my heart that you’ve caused when you left? Are you sorry for the way you broke me Suguru? Are your sorry for the way you’ve emotionally killed me?”

Your monologue left the curse user speechless, he truly was sorry, he wished he could have told you but he couldn’t. He always thought about you, he missed you the most. He wanted to come see you so badly, hug you, tell you how much he loved you, and most of all kiss you, he wanted it so badly but he knew it would only put you in danger, so he didn’t. This is all he wanted to tell you, but couldn’t, he knew you would believe him, and, in the end, this was going to hurt even more.

“I am.” Geto settled on these simple words, he knew it wasn’t enough, he knew it would anger you, but this was for the best, he already made his choice three years ago.

“I can’t believe you. I can’t believe I trusted you, that I thought you weren’t the person people said you became. How foolish of me to have trusted you. Thanks for giving me the closure I needed. At least you’ve done one thing right.” You laughed bittersweetly before reaching for the door and closing it.

“Are you going to do it or not?” A voice suddenly said, holding the door you were about to shut. “This is what we came here for. Remember what you’ve said, this world doesn’t have space for non-sorcerers.”

“I know. I will do it. I just need a moment.” The black-haired sorcerer replied with a heavy sigh which deeply confused you.

“What are you even saying? Stop whatever you’re doing, just leave and let me close this damn door.” You growled, growing annoyed at the fact your door wouldn’t budge no matter how much strength you used.

“So?” The same voice asked, continuing to apply pressure on the door to keep you from shutting it.

“I’m sorry.” Geto sighed sadly, his eyes filled with this same foreign feeling they had before he left for his last mission as a jujutsu sorcerer.

“You already said that, I get it. Now leave.” You insisted, growing scared at your door which wouldn’t close and the look in Geto’s eyes.

“I never meant for this to happen.” Your ex-lover said, bringing one of his hands to caress your cheek.

“What are you talking about?” You inquired, now furiously pushing on your door in hope it would finally close.

“But I have no choice.” The curse user continued, his fingers catching the tears that were still rolling down your face. “I know you will understand.”

“What the fuck are you saying Suguru, get out of here you’re scaring me. I don’t know you anymore. You’re not the person I used to love!” You screamed, hands shaking and still pushing the unmoveable door. “GET OUT OF MY HOUSE.”

“I loved you, I always will. I hope we will be able to meet in our next life and finally be together like we were meant to.” Geto declared before bending down to softly kiss your forehead. “I’m sorry.”

His actions stunned you, you didn’t even have the time to process anything before a warm feeling made its way to your stomach. Quite a familiar and nostalgic feeling if you were asked, the same one you used to feel whenever you and Geto were together, the one which used to spread throughout your entire body when he would tell you he loved you. But today it felt strangely different, almost bittersweet, it wasn’t a feeling you ever wanted to feel again, no, this one hurt, this one burned you to your core, this one was killing you.

“You-” You started before a violent cough interrupted you, one that burned your entire throat. You coughed for a minute before looking down at your hand, and to your horror it was covered in blood.

Panic and confusion flooded your mind, you looked at Geto’s face, searching for an answer, something that would tell you what was happening but the only thing you could see was the one thing you wished you could have seen when he first knocked on this door, remorse. Eventually your eyes trailed down your lover figure, until you saw his arms reaching out to you, you didn’t remember that he was touching you. You followed it to find where his hand was, your stomach. Your vision was starting to get blurry, was it the tears? Or were you losing consciousness? You didn’t really know. All you knew was that this warm feeling in your stomach was getting stronger and stronger. You blinked a few times and finally, you could see clearly, Geto wasn’t touching you, no, Geto was killing you. His arm that you thought was reaching out to you, was in fact piercing you right through your stomach. This warm feeling that kept getting stronger, it wasn’t love, no, it was anger, pain, betrayal, resentment. How foolish of you to have believed in him.

In your last moment of consciousness, you told yourself that you should have trusted Gojo, you should have listened to him and moved overseas. You shouldn’t have had faith in Geto, deep down you knew it, you knew it, but it was too late for regrets, nothing could be done anymore, he won.

“Traitor.” You managed to let out before taking your final breath, the world around you gradually fading to black. The last image you saw was the face of your lover, tears-stained cheeks and remorse written all over it, but it was too late for regrets, he picked the world he wanted to live in and you weren’t part of it.

[hpalways]

Lyrical Mess || Venti

BARD Venti was someone you looked up to. Words would spill from his mouth like a waterfall, for he never ran out of lyrics and rhymes alike to sing about. You aspired to be like him, to one day have talent in bringing people together through music. Unfortunately, your mind was a little underwhelming in the creative department. Phrases and sentences jumbled up like a mess, trapping you in a sea ridden of any motivation whatsoever. 

"The distant lands, the people, the trees, they all truly resonate in me!" he sang, filling your ears of the melody. He was currently sitting on the huge tree in Windrise, rocking back and forth on the branch. Meanwhile, you were on the ground and leaning against the bark, trying to write down anything that could be worth mentioning. However, the page was as blank as it could be, an empty void of nothingness. The quill in your hand shook and squeezed, because the frustration was beginning to take its toll. 

"Venti, I can't think of anything! Don't you have any secrets that could help me?" you whined, pulling the ends of your [h/c] locks. Grabbing the lyre that was brought everywhere with you, you thrummed the strings of it, playing an ugly chord that halted his own singing. The golden instrument glimmered against the sunlight, nearly blinding your eyes. After spending almost all your savings on it one day, it easily became your most treasured item. 

The male leaned forward from the branch, his two aqua ombre braids waving along with the wind. Green eyes on you, they crinkled as he grinned in excitement. In his usual white top and teal shorts with stockings, his style was enough to make him recognizable. Not only that, but he was as adorable as when you first met him. To have him by your side... well, you certainly looked like a nobody. "Well, why are you sitting there on the ground? Come up here and you'll get loads of more inspiration." 

"Really?!" you exclaimed. Your gaze brightened as if you had met God and you quickly scrambled to your feet. He nodded, putting his hands on his hips in pride. "Okay. I'll go join you then." Rolling up the sleeves of your shirt, you knitted your brows together in perseverance. Readying for the climb ahead, you lifted your foot to take that first step. 

Goodbye. You were ready to die. Venti had made it look so easy with those fast and flexible limbs of his, but you were trembling to the core at this moment. The tree was much taller and wonky than you expected, gnarly and dangerous for someone with no balance like you. Panting heavily, you tightened your hold on your lyre as you heaved yourself upwards one last time. You crashed on the spot beside the bard and hit the hollow trunk in annoyance. Flinching at the pain inflicted more-so on you, you rubbed your hands as you tried to settle down. 

The view surely was nice. Mondstadt, the city of Freedom, could be seen from here. Meadows and small hills laid out across the board too, luscious and full of natural beauty. The color of it reminded you of Venti. 

"I can't do this," you groaned, rubbing your face in weariness. "I'm too tired to even think."

"You quit too easily," he said, frowning. Feeling all ashamed suddenly, you drooped your head and sighed. There was nothing worse than getting critiqued by someone you looked up to. "Oh, I know! I have a few other secret spots to show you. What do you say, my friend?"

"Alright. I'll give it another shot."

Before announcing to you what he was about to do, he scooped you up with those nimbly arms of his and jumped straight off from the branch. A scream threatened to leave you, but you kept quiet as you held onto him for dear life. He was crazy! But that might just be the reason why he was so popular in Mondstadt. 

With a thump! at the landing, Venti smoothly reached the ground with two legs still working. Carefully releasing you, he took out his own lyre from under his arm. It could not be said the same regarding you. Wobbly support below, you kneeled down and calmed your racing heart. 

Once you gained your grounding again, that was when it was time to set off. Following the bard on his tail, you watched as the dirt path turned into pavement and then into bricks. "Mondstadt...? Are you sure this will be helpful?" you questioned, squinting at the mundane scene in front of you. Living here your whole life, it was all too familiar for you to believe you'd find anything here. 

"Just trust me, [Y/N]!" he said, turning his head over his shoulder. Giggling softly, he returned to look ahead and marched onward.

You assumed it would be an unknown spot that could exhilarate you instantly. But of course, reality bit the dust. Standing in front of you was the local tavern, crowded of drunken adventurers. "You just wanted to stop by for a drink!" you said, whirling around to glare at the male. 

He stuck a tongue out and winked, leaving you more infuriated. This was the guy you idolized so much? He was such a sham. "Trust me... trust me..." he repeated, pulling your arm with him. The door opened up and he slipped in, with you stumbling after him. His grip never once loosening, he waltzed towards the bartender and dropped coins of mora. "The usual, please!" 

Securing a table to sit at, he set you down and sat directly from you. As you were about to spew words of insult, he beat the punch. 

"I'm serious. This is one of my secret spots," he explained. He nudged his head at the back of the tavern, where an empty space cleared of tables took place. "I sometimes perform here and so whenever I come here, I would get a good amount of ideas."

He had a point. You had been there too when he performed here, intrigued and immersed by a new world introduced by him. Slumping your shoulders slightly, you mutely nodded in agreement, tapping the quill against your chin. He grinned at your reaction, as if he was relieved to have escaped your wrath.

As he sipped his drink in peace, you began to write down some ideas. It was silent at the table, but it was not uncomfortable or awkward. You had known Venti for quite some time... and though you still admired him tons, he became a dear friend. Ink met the parchment and you scribbled them down quickly, as if your life was on the line. This proceeded for a while until he slammed his first empty glass down. When showing the notebook, you fidgeted in your seat as you waited for his thoughts.

"Whisking her away, he drowned the walls. She said he said to come to the dock..." he read it out loud. His features tightened and he let out a nervous laugh. "Um... er... it's not bad... How about this?! Why don't you perform a song from Teyvat! Singing a song always inspires me. You can use the stage over there! I'm sure the customers would love a lovely song sung by the beautiful maiden [Y/N]."

"So it's bad," you deadpanned.

"It's not!" he argued, panic shown in his eyes. "It could use some improvement, but anything can be improve, you know?"

"You don't need to lie to make me feel better," you sighed, pulling yourself up from the seat. Lumbering up to the stage, you strummed the strings of your lyre, catching the attention of a few customers. Breathing in deeply, you closed your eyes and started to sing a song. The song you heard Venti sing a few times. The song your parents sang as they lulled you to sleep. The song that wasn't yours, but everyone's. 

You were a fake. A lyrist who couldn't form her own words. A singer with no direction to turn to. 

When the song ended, a round of applause exploded from the audience who were smiling in approval. They all enjoyed it, except you. Giving them a quick bow with a smile plastered on your face, you then exited the stage and rushed through the tables, passing Venti and straight out the door. Running to the gates and not stopping once until you were out in the wilderness again, you slumped to the ground in shame. Angry tears blurred your vision and you crumpled the poor grass upon your hands. 

"You performed it perfectly..." he whispered, his small figure crouching down next to you. When did he get here? "What's upsetting you?"

"I messed up," you told him, glancing at the lyre in your hands. "I can't do a single thing right."

"No one noticed it."

"But... I did. It doesn't matter if no one else realized it, I know of my mistakes. And I'm so sorry Venti. I've been such a hindrance towards you today. You don't deserve listening to my complaints. Nor do you deserve cleaning after my mess." More tears slid out, slipping down your cheeks. "I just wish I was you."

A thumb swiped the droplets from your face, his skin warm to the touch. Startled, you watched him grow slightly sad. Why was he making that face? It looked so... empty... hopeless. He knew of something you didn't. "You don't want to be me, [Y/N], trust me. And I like you the way you are... so please, don't say that ever again." He straightened up and all traces of any misery was erased from his expression. "Let me cheer you up a bit! I can go sing a tune for you! I think that should do the trick for some inspiration."

[ilikemesometaetaes]

Don’t Hold Your Breath ~ jjk

Chapter Five (M)

•••> Author: @ilikemesometaetaes​

•••> Summary: As the CEO of an international government security company, you have the world at your fingertips. Living life lavishly and extravagantly has become the norm. Behind closed doors, however, you host a past that renders you lonely and, quite frankly, miserable. It’s only a matter of time before your past comes back to bite you right in the ass.

•••> Pairing(s): Jungkook/Reader, Taehyung/Reader (slight)

•••> Inspo: This fic is inspired by the song “SAVAGE ANTHEM” by PARTYNEXTDOOR. Thank you to @dariangarcia​, @btssmutgalore​, and @junghoseokit​ for supporting my work. To my mamas, Kaitlin, Adora, Lauren, Lanie, Lu, and Sher.

•••> Word Count: 6.54k

•••> Rating: 18+

•••> Tags: angst | smut | ceo!au | rockstar!au | CEO!Reader | Rockstar!Jungkook | AU!BTS | Exes to Lovers

•••> Warnings: angst, infidelity, oral (m receiving), heartbreak, cursing, pining, depression, breakup, mention(s) of therapy/counseling, arguing, drug use, alcohol use | Warnings are written specifically to chapter.

Copyright © 2020 ilikemesometaetaes. All Rights Reserved.

Taglist: @dariangarcia​​ @apurpledheart​​ @itsgottabeyoo-ngs​​ @hytibm​ @namjinsbaby​ @ggukkieland​

If you’d like to be added to the taglist, say so in a comment to this chapter or the DHYB Main Page, or send me an ask!

NAVIGATION: Chapter Four (M) <- | -> Chapter Six (M) -> Mini-Masterlist -> Series Masterlist

•••> Official Playlist

~#~

“Is it something we discussed now? The truth got you in disgust now, ‘cause I’d rather we just fuck now.”

THEN.

Sitting at your desk at work never felt so somber as you remembered how it all changed. The chain of events that led up to your fight with him the previous night were too hard to ignore anymore.

You remember fighting for him- for the both of you.

The tears flooded your eyes and, thankfully, blurred your vision from the scene before you.

Jungkook sat on a couch placed in the corner of the club, completely inebriated and high out of his mind. But that’s not what hurt you.

What completely ripped your heart from your chest was the woman draped across his exposed lap with her hair held in one hand while she used the other to wrap around the part of his dick that she couldn’t reach whilst she closed her lips over it.

Blinking your tears from your eyes on instinct allowed you to see that another set of eyes was looking at you. And they weren’t Jungkook’s.

Taehyung’s scowl, paired with furrowed eyebrows and sad eyes, was another image from that night you couldn’t get out of your head. There was no shock nor surprise on his face- he was expecting you. Taehyung knew that you would see. He didn’t try to deter you from coming to the club and he didn’t send any warning texts. He was the one who invited you in the first place.

The scene was an unforgettable one.

You should have taken Taehyung’s word for it from the start. He had given you hints that you simply couldn’t bother yourself to pay attention to.

While you possessed the knowledge and evidence that Jungkook cheated on you that night, you couldn’t bring yourself to properly address it. Each time you got around to speaking with him about it, you ended up brushing it off for another time.

Finding an excuse for yourself to defend him was easy.

The drugs and alcohol were the problem. You saw it yourself that night. He was in a completely different world when you saw him doing the deed. His eyes were glazed out with beautiful lips agape in complete, drug-induced ecstasy, unknowing of what he was doing. There was no way he was aware of what was actually happening or even what day it was.

But then came the day that it got so bad that you asked him to go get help. You were willing to forgive his negligence if he was willing to get it fixed.

It was the cause of your final fight.

“I’m not going to fucking rehab, Y/N.” He laughed spitefully. “There is nothing wrong with me. I’m a fucking rockstar. This is what rockstars do.”

“They also cheat on their girlfriends?” You sarcastically asked.

Jungkook chuckled darkly while looking at the floor. After a moment, he met your eyes in a cold gaze before he opened his mouth.

“Rockstars don’t have girlfriends.”

The weight of the statement pressured heavily on you in realization of what he was implying, pushing all of the air from your lungs. You were struck silent with an invisible smack offered by his words. No sound could escape your mouth as you stared back at him in a silent question: did it mean what you thought it meant?

“Yeah.” Was all he said in the deafening silence to answer your unspoken query, looking at the ground awkwardly. He was quick to add another few words to finally hit the nail on the coffin. “But if you still want to fuck, I’m down.”

“But- but I…” Your voice trembled weakly, feeling your eyes ache with incoming tears, but you fought them with every ounce of will that you had as your abhorrence was built up by his last words. The ground was swallowing you up and you were trying to claw your way free. “I waited for you to get better. You told me things would get better once you took off.”

“Don’t hold your breath, Y/N.” He laughed heartily.

Your heart was no longer beating. Not in your mind, anyway.

You felt as the life was torn from your lungs with the most simple and practical words; your world taken from you and all air seeming too thick to inhale. 

Awfully, you couldn’t seem to listen to his words this time. You didn’t want to. Breathing seemed much too difficult as you felt him snatch the light from your life with one swipe.

There was no chance that you would let him watch you cry- no way he was going to watch the pain he delivered onto you take physical effect. You were disappointed and neglected- a pawn in the game he played. You were sick of playing now.

Instead, you turned around, grabbed your purse off of the kitchen table-

And left.

Sitting at your desk with all of the sadness that Jeon Jungkook brought into your life, you decided that it was finally time to leave. You needed to leave Korea. You needed to move on to bigger and better things.

Your hand was reaching for your phone before you could stop yourself from doubling back. It’s about time.

Googling for a moving company- any moving company- only took you a few seconds and you pressed the call button with a new sense of conviction.

“Good afternoon! Thank you for calling Team Wang’s Moving Company! What can I assist you with today?”

Making sure your voice was level and controlled, you spoke, “I’d like to schedule a move of items from a storage unit here in Korea to another country. Am I able to do that?”

“Of course, ma’am! We can get started on preparations for that right away! What was the location that you were referencing? We are limited on the countries we can ship to due to certain regulations.”

Without any further hesitation or pondering over the past, you settled on it.

“Italy.”

Jungkook

He sat in his room for a while with an empty lyric journal, letting the high slowly fade from his body as regret began pumping through his veins. Jungkook had put up the act for Taehyung, but after he saw his brother angrily storm out the door and he was left alone to the ever familiar havoc in his mind, the fight to maintain his mask was easily lost.

What the fuck did he do?

Seeing you cry was common for him; Jungkook had made you cry too many times to count, but that didn’t take away from the way it ripped apart the sinew in his chest every time he saw that look in your eyes as tears streamed down your cheeks.

He managed to convince himself of the belief that it was impossible for you to care that much anymore. You just couldn’t. Not when he had fucked up the first time. He had broken your trust and he didn’t trust himself enough to try and earn yours back, fearing that he would just fuck you up past recovery- like himself.

Jungkook was beyond rejuvenation and beyond any form of succor. Nothing could help him silence his demons except the cold and dark embrace of death. Even now, sitting in silence in his bedroom to let the remorse for you distract him from the torment of the empty organ beating in his chest, he felt them begin to criticize him.

Jungkook’s parents and brother died young, victims of a drunken asshole who decided that it was a good idea to get behind the wheel to try and get home to his girlfriend. What a fucking prick.

For some reason, Jungkook decided that it would be a good idea to stay home and worry about the girl that he liked at school, making little sketches to slip into her lunchbox once lunch came around. 

Of all days he could have stayed home, it just had to be that one. He should have gone to the grocery store with them. He should have been in that car with them.

The voices in his head began three weeks after the funeral- when Jungkook reached the ripe age of twelve. Constantly battering him down, twisting his heart, and suffocating his head, he recognized that it was his own voice and his own psyche attacking the sanctity of his soul after he watched the three coffins sink into the cold ground. 

It just had to rain that day, water filling the nice dress shoes his father bought for him a few months prior as mud covered the black leather.

He reached adulthood much too fast. Even under the care of his parents’ friends, he was forced by his own will to become independent. They tried to shower him with the same love and support that his family had, but it was no use- Jungkook was alone. No one could fill that gap in his heart once it was made empty.

He’ll admit, he was a bit more dramatic back then.

He was approaching his seventeenth birthday when he smoked for the first time, turning it into a habit by the time he graduated high school. He had been dragged out to an end-of-the-year school gathering by Taehyung, a senior who was much too silent like himself- who understood that Jungkook preferred the quiet due to the mayhem in his mind. They had formed a tranquil and mostly unspoken bond over the months that they studied together.

“Is it safe?” Jungkook muttered while looking at his older companion of the silence curiously.

“I’ve done it a few times and I was fine. Just take it slow at first. Try two hits and then wait like twenty or thirty minutes.” Taehyung’s contralto voice was somehow comforting to Jungkook, a beacon in the chaos that was the kickback they were currently separating themselves from. “If you don’t want to, that’s cool. You don’t have to.”

“Nah,” Jungkook’s desire to break out of his shell was a little spurred by Taehyung who seemed to aid him in the most odd yet unobtrusive way. “I’ll try it. Might be cool.”

The only two at the campfire while the rest of their year mates drank and danced to music in the house, Jungkook and Taehyung shared their first high together.

Then, the voices stopped.

Jungkook was shaken to his core, gripping the arms of the camping chair he sat in until his fingers ached and his knuckles turned white. For the first time in six years, his head was blanketed in silence.

Slightly panicked at the new sensation, he turned to Taehyung for help, only to find that his friend was sitting back with his head craned up, gazing intently at the stars. Jungkook followed his stare and struggled to see them past the glow of the flames in front of him, only to grow enraptured by the gorgeous twinkling of each small dot in the midnight sky once his eyes adjusted. Strangely, he was hit by a sudden burst of inspiration.

“I could write a song right now.” Jungkook told the sky confidently.

“You write?” He saw Taehyung turn to look at him out of the corner of his eye. Meeting his friend’s observance, he let a smile lazily grace his face for once as he replied.

“I do occasionally. I always wanted to be a singer when I was younger.”

“Me too.” Taehyung chuckled with a sense of wistfulness, fixing his stare on the small inferno in the fire pit. “Well, I wanted to be a bassist really bad. Maybe sing a little.”

Overcome with the emotions of maybe not being totally alone, Jungkook’s inner sageness spewed from his mouth without falter, wholly due to the graceful and relaxed feeling that he received from the high.

“We’re still young.” He reasoned. “We can still do it.”

“I’ll be studying music in university after my military service is over. My most realistic dream now is to become a studio bassist for some record company.” Taehyung laid his head back again, closing his eyes.

“Hey,” Jungkook called for his friends attention and the older boy looked at him with slightly bloodshot eyes. “We can do something with this if we really want to. I’ll follow you to university. Never really had a solid plan for where I wanted to go to anyway.” Jungkook stuck his hand out in a silent offer, hoping that his proposition wouldn’t be crushed.

Taehyung smiled mellowly, taking his younger friend’s hand with his in a handshake. “Sounds like a plan, my friend.”

After Taehyung graduated and enlisted, Jungkook completed his senior year with a new hobby- well, two new hobbies: writing and smoking.

With the impending date of his enlistment, he knew that he had to give it up as he was going to get drug tested. For two years, he kept up with himself without the help of the self-administered psychoactive drug therapy.

Service was a good distraction from the voices. Having things to do to keep him busy and writing in any free time he had, he was kept delightfully aloof from the dark corners of his mind. It also helped that he enlisted into the same garrison that Taehyung was assigned to.

Taehyung welcomed Jungkook into university with open arms. Now, at the age of twenty, Jungkook was a seasoned and trained man. The voices still loomed over him, but they were pushed to the back of his mind as he learned to deal with the emptiness.

He had highs to suppress his demons, he had his songs to communicate himself to others, and he had Taehyung.

Although it wasn’t nearly enough to fill his empty glass, it was empty no longer.

Jungkook lay in his bed as he watched the violet sky turn midnight blue, the already-set sun pulling the rest of its light away from his side of the earth. 

Naked and vulnerable under the scrutiny of the world, he lay in the sheets with his head turned toward the window, presenting the sorrow brimming in his eyes right back to the invisible gaze of the universe. With no form of judgement in response to him, he was left to ponder over the things he had done.

Because even now, with a slight high from the drugs, he realized that he could still hear them- the whispers, murmurs, and dronings of impugnment continued to poison his mind. He found it funny that he was always pressing the voices away, yet whenever confronted by the menace that was his emotions, they were his safety blanket. 

Pulling the sheets to his body while he curled into himself, Jungkook realized that he felt completely bare and exposed without the voices.

He’d keep them back to the point of a whisper so that he could call on them to protect him with a roaring intensity during bad times. There was never a time that he wasn’t manually suppressing them if he wasn’t high anymore.

With a shaken mind, he realized the only true way they were silent without true effort now. The drugs had stopped suppressing them a long time ago. There was no way he was able to have silence unless he was actually enforcing the lack of sound onto himself.

Not unless he was with you.

You provided light and hope and everything good to him, You gave him the things that were snatched away from him all those years ago- the things that he forced himself to live without. Unlike Taehyung, who gave him the sense of having a brother again, you gave him the love of everyone he lost. You acted like a sibling, gave him the comfort like a mother, and gave him the stern challenge and teachings of a father- if that made any sense.

Without you, he felt like his family; Jungkook felt lost and alone. Even as an up-and-coming rockstar with thousands of fans scrambling to get to know him, he felt like he was the last man on the planet who kept himself back while everyone else moved on to a better world.

The night at the club still haunted him, the truth of what happened chilling him to the bone- even if he didn’t exactly remember any of it.

Shit. Maybe he needed help after all.

NOW.

Sitting with his back to the door, staring at the night of New York City, Jungkook did not hear Namjoon enter the room with both of his bodyguards in tow.

“We’re staying another few days.” His older brother informed him, breaking him from his trance-like gaze.

“Goody.” Jungkook sighed, setting his empty glass down on the table in front of him. With a huff, he stood and stretched. Namjoon uttered a quick ‘give us a second’ to his men before the shuffling of feet and the door closing behind him signaled the beginning of a serious conversation.

“You know she’s still here, right? It’s not too late to go and talk to her.” Jungkook could feel the man’s eyes on his back, pity dousing the information that Jungkook was already aware of.

But Jungkook didn’t need Namjoon’s pity. It was enough that Namjoon saw his feelings on paper. Nothing more needed to be shared.

Still, he respected his brother’s wisdom and he remembered the words of his counselor. ‘Accept the silence. Then, do the talking from the inside. The only one truly speaking, inside and out loud, is you.’

“I know. I already spoke to her. Some things…” Jungkook’s volume died down for a moment, unsure of how to put it, as he turned his head to look at his brother in a silent plea for assistance. “…happened the other night. She came and saw me again today,”

“-I didn’t know what to do and I acted like a dickhead.” He looked back down and chuckled spitefully to himself, wisps of a shadow materializing back into the depths of his mind once he stopped speaking.

Namjoon exhaled after not realizing that he was holding his breath following his own comment. Carefully, he approached Jungkook so as to not trigger him into closing himself off. Despite having received professional assistance and counseling for two years, Jungkook was still as fragile as fine china.

The older man placed a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder before slightly forcing Jungkook to face him.

“Tell me, Jungkook,” Namjoon looked into his eyes, prying into the windows of his soul, to capture a glimpse of the storm clouds brewing in his brother’s brown orbs. “Do you still love her?”

Jungkook didn’t know how to answer at first.

The voices began permeating Jungkook’s mind ever so slowly as an automatic reaction to being emotionally jabbed. He didn’t like addressing his feelings; the voices were all he could fall back on when he felt threatened, deafening volume drowning out the possibility for anything to reach into him too deep. They gave him the things- the bad things- he needed to say in order to protect himself.

As he sifted through the past two years, however, looking back on the help he had received and the exercises he went through that allowed him to no longer fear the natural silence- to embrace it without the drugs- he knew that no one was threatening him and no one was going to hurt him. Jungkook was asked if he still loved you and he couldn’t have the negativity surrounding him if he was going to answer that question, so he moved his trepidation out of the way to see what was left for you.

Behind it all- the fear, meaningless women, music, loss- lay a withering yet ever-present being, its wings tattered and flayed at the edges. With its first glances of light, with no smog to block it, it beat its tiny appendages with potential and came to life upon Jungkook’s realization of what it was.

His arrant and perennial love for you.

Jungkook briefly remembered the meadow- your meadow- and all of the tiny butterflies that were living out their lives in the beauty of the world that day. A butterfly adorned with blue and black splotches of color on its wings had managed to land on your head for a split second when he adjusted your hair. The particular memory and the events that followed on that day relocated as the tiny butterfly inside his mind fluttered upwards.

Jungkook’s heart soared with newfound beginnings- a second chance.

“I do, hyung. I do.” He whispered, voice wavering under the force of the emotions that came bubbling up from his chest. Tears filled his eyes, prompting his older brother to pull him into an embrace.

Jungkook’s body racked with cries at the feeling of comfort and warmth, unable to stop himself from feeling the raw emotions he had delayed for too long. Instead of needing to push the darkness out of the way, it came pouring out of him in radiating waves much too intense for him to handle alone.

“Hyung! I love her! I love her!” He chanted into his brother’s shoulder. “I hurt her! She was all mine and I tossed her away!”

Namjoon, although shocked by the psychological state and emotional outburst of his usually stoic bandmate, held him with care and waited until his brother’s breathing calmed before suggesting his next move. “Then go and get her, Kook.”

“She’s-” Jungkook had to swallow to wet his dry throat. “She’s with Taehyung right now.”

“Then wait until morning. From what Jin-hyung said, she’ll be here until the end of the week.”

So, wait is what Jungkook did.

He woke up at eight the next morning and called your personal assistant, finding his number easily on your company’s preliminary email to everyone in his organization for the whole UN ordeal. After two rings, the man answered.

“Halo! This is Brian Morena, representative and PA to Ms. Y/N Y/L/N. Who do I have the pleasure of speaking with?”

“Jeon Jungkook.” Jungkook stated his name lowly and unsurely, cautious as to how to approach asking him about your schedule.

“Ah, Mr. Jeon! It is a pleasure to speak with you! I’ll just verify your phone number really quick. It will only take a moment.” The line went silent for a few seconds and Jungkook waited on the edge of his bed with a bouncing knee and a fingernail between his teeth. After a few more seconds, the man was back on the phone. “You’re good! What can I do for you today?”

“I was just wondering if I could possibly get my hands on Ms. Y/N’s schedule for the day.” Jungkook heard how weird the request sounded the moment it flew from his lips. Quickly, he came up with a lie to soothe the request with reasoning. “She left her jacket in the elevator and I wish to return it to her- personally.”

Jungkook added the last part, knowing that the man would just tell him to give it to an employee of your own building, and Jungkook couldn’t have that. He wanted- no, needed- to see you.

“I see.” Brian responded thoughtfully. “Well, in that case, I’m unable to disclose her whereabouts due to security reasons.” Jungkook’s heart dropped a little at the notion of being unable to speak with you while his heart was still flying open. Then, Brian spoke again.

“But if she is in her hotel during her free time, she will be in her penthouse and I will assign you a temporary elevator key so that you can get to her door. It won’t unlock the door, but it will get you in front of it. Does that sound alright, Mr. Jeon?”

Jungkook smiled triumphantly. “Yes, that sounds lovely. Thank you, Brian.”

“It’s no problem, sir! Though, I do suggest you move quickly because she only has the next two and a half hours before she has her first scheduled event of the day. Your key will be ready for you in the next ten minutes. Have to wait until your status change goes through properly.” Brian was busy clacking away at his keyboard while he spoke, but Jungkook couldn’t be more overjoyed that he had succeeded in his plan thus far.

Things will work out. I’ll get her back. However much and however long it takes.

He dressed casually and indiscriminately with a mask over his face so as to not draw attention. After searching for it on google and exiting the hotel onto the street, he hailed a cab to take him to the first flower shop he could find to order you a bouquet of white tulips- obviously, he had to google that too. Jungkook had no idea what the best flower for apologies and hopes of new beginnings was. He was no botanical genius and that was a fact.

Once he had the flowers in his hand after a grueling wait, he stopped by the closest coffee shop to buy your favorite coffee- with two creams and three sugars if he remembered correctly. Despite the amount of time the florist had wasted, he made his way back to the hotel on foot so that he could properly practice what he was going to say to you. If he was going to make it right, he needed all the practice he could get.

Take off the mask. Don’t be a dick. Take off the mask. Don’t be a dick.

Jungkook let the incantations fill his head so that the haze of negativity didn’t have a chance to snap back into place over his single, delicate emotion. He was vulnerable and fighting the mental pressure with everything he had so that he could bare himself long enough to at least get back on good terms with you.

By the time he was back in front of your hotel building, it was a quarter to ten and he was left cursing the florist for taking so long. He stood awkwardly on the pavement, allowing himself a few breaths before he decided to enter the glass doors. Jungkook knew that he would be attracting attention by standing in front for so long, yet he couldn’t help but need a moment to send a prayer to whichever god was watching over him.

Closing his eyes, he craned his head up and took one last inhale whilst sending a silent plea for things to work out. To see you smiling and happy again. To hold you in his arms and hear you silence every one of his demons once and for all.

What he didn’t expect was one of his prayers to be promptly answered.

As he opened his eyes to look at the late morning sky, he caught sight of you immediately, sitting on the restaurant balcony- laughing and smiling. But you weren’t laughing and smiling to yourself.

You were giving your joy and happiness to Taehyung whose hand was covering yours above the table, grinning endearingly and adoringly back at you.

Jungkook’s hands grew numb, warranting the flowers and coffee to slip from his grasp onto the sidewalk, as he drowned in smog once again.

NOW.

You

“He never wanted you to leave.”

You sat, dumbfounded for a moment, as Taehyung said the words. You didn’t let the shock last for long, knowing that what he said must have been a lie.

“There’s no way.” You chuckled scornfully. “He told me himself, Taehyung. He didn’t want me anymore.”

“Y/N, take it from me. I loved you. I wanted to see you happy.” He grimaced briefly, most likely from the personal statement, while turning his eyes down to place his gaze on his empty plate in front of him. “But I knew that he made you happy even though he made you sad. He made you happy in a way that I never could. And he wanted to see you that way- happy.”

“I’m sorry, Tae. I- I should’ve-” Your heart ached for a moment as you tried to find the words to say, wishing for the first time that you had been in love with him instead.

“Don’t apologize, Y/N. You can’t force feelings like that and I sure as hell was not going to force you into anything that you didn’t want.”

A question burned behind your eyes, tugging your heart to remember the past.

“Then why did you let me see?” Your eyes turned cold. The drop in your tone nor the change of your mood were directed at him, but they were caused by him nonetheless.

“Because I was young and thought you had a chance to find that happiness elsewhere.” He sighed, taking the opportunity to place his hand over yours on the table while his words distracted you. “And for that, I’m sincerely sorry. I know that friends are supposed to help each other out, but that was a situation that was out of my hands and not mine to handle or get involved in.”

“I’m not blaming you for my relationship issues. I never did and I never will. So don’t apologize.” You looked down at the way his hand covered yours. “I just wanted to know.”

Taehyung pat your hand in an attempt for you to look at him again. When you did, he continued his sentiment.

“Jungkook didn’t want you to leave at all. He has this… thing. It’s not really my place to say anything, but I’ve been friends with him for years and he’s had it a bit rough. I know that he’s a dick- believe me, I know-“ You quirked an eyebrow at his expression. “But he’s got something he keeps hidden behind that thick skull of his that you should probably know about.”

“Why can’t you just tell me?” You asked, curious as to what he could be alluding to.

“Because you guys still need to talk. He was never good at talking to you about things.”

“I’m never fucking talking to him ever again.” You deadpanned.

“Please do it for me, Y/N.” His eyes begged with his plea, pulling you in.

“Oh? And why should I do it for you, hm?” You joked with him to steer the conversation away from the heavy subject, a small smile playing upon your lips. “I think you were the one apologizing to me.”

“Well, all I can say is that I’m sorry. I was supposed to be there for you- when you needed a shoulder to cry on and when you needed someone to binge watch TV shows with.” He smiled with his attempted joke that you couldn’t help but laugh at.

“You’re the best TV show buddy.” You giggled and looked down at your joined hands again, rotating your own so that you could hold his. To be friends with him after all this time… is it possible?

“Oh, I know I am!” He laughed loudly again, prompting you to quickly look around the restaurant area and the street below you, mild panic setting in once more. You tilted your head in confusion and pity at the sight of a few white flowers lying on the pavement next to a splattered drink.

“Poor flowers.” You muttered to yourself. “They’re so pretty.”

You watched Taehyung turn to look where you were staring from the corner of your eye. “Oh yeah. Would you look at that? Such a waste.”

Instead of taking any more time, you stood and straightened your blazer to remove the wrinkles. “We should probably get out of here. I have a security meeting in a little while.”

“How long is a little while?” Taehyung asked as he stood and pressed his hands to his own coat. You made eye contact with Jay who was already stood and ready to go, nodding to him as you answered Taehyung’s question.

“About an hour and a half. Why?”

“Damn. That’s not enough time. Maybe tonight then?” He tapped his chin thoughtfully, lips forming into a thin line.

“Enough time for what? What’s happening?” You grabbed his elbow when he began walking away without answering your question.

“What time are you going to be done for the day?” He asked.

“Taehyung,” You warned lowly. “What’s going on? I won’t tell you unless you give me something to work with here.”

“Oh, nothing.” He smiled and removed your grasp from his arm. “I’ll just ask Brian again. I’m sure he’ll be upset if you dodge your schedule.”

“Brian?” You watched as he walked away through the tables while hooking his mask back onto his ears. You wanted to get to the bottom of the situation fast- so you quickly followed him. “You’ve been speaking with him?”

“Of course I have! Isn’t that right, Jay?” Taehyung turned to the man in question.

“Of course, Mr. Kim. You’ve been very in touch with the staff.” Your bodyguard, once he joined you and Taehyung walking together, let a small, smug grin pull at the corners of his mouth. What a traitor. A slight sense of mock-betrayal filled you.

“What?” You asked. “Why?”

“For research purposes.” Taehyung deadpanned, grabbing your hand in the process. “Now come on. Let’s get out of here.”

“I have to go back to my room and get ready for my meetings.” You said quickly. Taehyung only chuckled lowly.

“Alright. Then let’s go!” He tugged you towards the exit. “I’ll take you to your door.”

You had no option but to stumble behind him while you stressfully surveyed the area, careful of onlookers.

~∞~

“YOU ALMOST LOST IT?” Kate’s voice was shrill and slightly distorted as it burst through the speakers of your phone at an ear-splitting volume.

“I’m sorry!” You briskly apologized. “It wasn’t my fault, I swear!”

“I spent weeks- weeks!- planning and making that jacket for you! I-” She bleated weakly before her tone leveled to nonchalance. “Wow. So this is what being chopped liver feels like.”

“Kate! You are not chopped liver, I swear.” You rushed the statement as you sat back in your office chair, glad to have a conversation that wasn’t work-related after a long and grueling day.

Your friend only grumbled in response. “It sure feels like it.”

“Well, you aren’t. I swear on my job.” You said.

“Oh wow. Holy shit. Okay, yeah that means a lot.” She stuttered playfully. “But something tells me you didn’t call me just to tell me you almost lost one of my most prized works of art- which, by the way, is my best seller. So, what is it?”

“I- uh…” You didn’t know how to word it. You had spent the entire work day using security updates and board meetings as a distraction from the open debate in your head, so now that your day was over and you had nothing left to do, the thoughts came back. It’s why you called Kate; you needed a third opinion.

If what Taehyung said about Jungkook was actually true, then maybe you should talk to him so that you could hear his side of the story. The bad bitch part of you told you to fuck off and forget about him, but you couldn’t help the softer and more curious side of yourself that begged to hear him out.

Realizing you had gone silent for a moment too long, you blurted out something random. “I’d like for you to design a hat for me.” A hat? Really? That was the best you could come up with? At least ask for some pants or something.

“Bullshit,” She chuckled in response. “But I’ll take that until you’re ready to tell me what’s actually going on.”

You heard her rustling some paper in preparation to take down design ideas, triggering panic to rise within you. You didn’t want her to put in work for an imaginary hat that you really had no desire of having.

“Hypothetically!” You shouted before she could get into it.

“Okay…” You heard the hesitation in her voice, clearly weirded out by your outburst. “Hypothetically what?”

“Let’s say, hypothetically, that you had an old flame who broke your heart and acted like a dick years ago, but you just recently learned that there were, maybe- I don’t know- some other things going on that made him act that way. Would you want to talk to him about it?”

“Hell no.” Kate laughed. “Just because you’re going through some stuff doesn’t mean you can act like a dick to other people. There’s no excuse for being a shitty person.”

“That’s what I thought.” You replied strongly. In your head, however, the war within you was brewing, weakening your composure.

“You’re not one to usually think about things like this.” Kate added. “What’s going on with you?”

“Just dealing with some stuff from the past. Nothing huge.” You didn’t want to overshare and Kate understood, knowing that she could never ask you to tell her about your past. She would wait until you were the one sharing it with her.

“Just let me know if you want me to come over there. I could definitely use some quality time with a quiet person for once. These idiots are so loud.”

You laughed in response. “I will. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you. We can watch movies or something and eat pizza and drink wine.”

“Oh my. That sounds like the perfect date!” She squealed. Her giddiness was infectious, spreading a soft smile across your lips.

“Won’t Brian get jealous?” You jab at her playfully.

“Not at all. He’ll probably end up attached to his video games anyway.” Kate snorted. “Shit! Speaking of! I need to call him! I’ll talk to you later?”

“Of course. Talk to you later.” You sat up in your chair.

“Bye!” She chirped.

As you sat alone in your office, building lights dark and the lights from the city the only form of illumination in the room through the window, you let your friends’ words rifle through your head.

On one hand, Kate catered to your stone-cold side, encouraging you to forget all about Jungkook and move on. Despite not knowing the situation and understanding all of its facets, her opinion was unbiased.

Taehyung, on the other hand, encouraged you to speak with Jungkook. He was aware of both sides of the story and understood what you and Jungkook- whatever the hell it was- were going through. He supported the side of you that was eager to understand and desperate to love again.

The decision was, ultimately, yours to make. What were you going to do?

The thoughts in your mind weighed heavy on your heart while you prepared to leave. You stood, packed your brief case, and made your way out of your office and onto the sidewalk to hail your driver so that you could go back to your hotel.

You couldn’t worry about it for long, though, because your phone vibrated three separate times as three notifications lit up your screen on your way back. Taehyung texted you.

Kim Taehyung (BTS)

Wear thick socks.

And a coat.

With gloves.

You stared at your phone in confusion, trying to figure out what he was getting at. Just what in the world was this boy planning?

~#~

Sorry this took so long, everyone! Please remember to like/reblog and comment if you want. I’d like to know what you guys think!

Don’t forget to check out the Series Masterlist if you want to read the oneshots that I have published.

[jisvnq]

[ 03:58AM ]

title | missing you

genre | fluff, humor, a teensy-weensy itsy-bitsy dash of angst, idol!au

warnings | none

word count | 1.2k

requested | nope~

description | where jisung misses you too much, he can't fall asleep.

z.txt | idk, i just woke up in the middle of the night for literally no reason(?) and i suddenly had the inspiration to write this up lol

"Hello, Ji? What—"

"Y/nnie..." Jisung said with a yawn as soon as you picked up. His voice was heavily laced with exhaustion as he sighed. "I miss you..."

"Ji," he heard you sigh. "Isn't it nearly four there? What are you doing up?"

"I can't- can't fall asleep," he mumbled, words slurring together. "When are you coming back?"

"I'll be back home soon, Ji," your soft voice reassured him. "This tour won't last forever, so don't worry. Just a few more months to go and we'll see each other again before the new year, my love."

Even in Jisung's sleepy state, his heart fluttered at your words, somehow feeling calm and at ease just by hearing your voice.

"But that's like... five... four... three months more?" he whined, tossing around in his bed, reaching out for the special hoodie of his that you sprayed in your perfume before you left and bringing it close to his chest.

"It's two months, my love." He groaned, hearng you chuckle. "I'll be back before you know it. Don't you worry."

"But I miss you," he drawled on dramatically. "Two months is still... too long. I want to hug you now."

"Patience, Jisung," you told him patiently when you hear him whine again. "And soon as I'm home, you can hug me all you want, deal?"

"Fine," Jisung said with a pout, closing his eyes when he yawned again, breathing in the scent of you from his hoodie as he hugged it tightly. "You better keep your word on that. I'm beginning to think I've been hugging this stupid hoodie more than I've ever hugged you... and now I wanna hug you even more. Ugh. I hate this hoodie. I want you."

"Jisung, you're getting extremely... needy," you said amusedly, hearing his huff of annoyance. "That means you're extra sleepy and you need extra naps. Please tell me you have the day off today."

"I have a schedule for four... six in the afternoon...?" he trailed off, not really knowing. "Something like that, I don't know. All I know is that I miss hugging you and kissing you and just... you. I think I might cry if I don't wake up next to you tomorrow, Y/nnie."

You chuckled. "Park Jisung, get yourself together, you silly baby—!"

"Hey, I'm not a baby!" He complained. "You're the baby! I— wait, if I say I'm a baby, will you come back home to take care of me, Y/nnie?"

He heard your bright laugh on the other end and felt himself smile widely, his heartbeat speeding up a bit knowing it was him who made you laugh like that. He felt somewhat accomplished, because even in this quite odd, sleepy state of his, he still managed to make you laugh your beautiful laugh. If he could get sounds tattooed, he'd get this one right on his forehead for everyone to see— or hear.

"Ji," you said, still chuckling a bit. "You're adorable, but I'm afraid that even if you did admit you're the cutest, most precious baby in the world, I still wouldn't be able to just randomly get a flight back to Korea. The world doesn't work that way, my love."

"We'll make our own world then," he said sleepily, brain beginning to slow down when he hears you subconsciously humming to whatever music played in the background of wherever you were. "A world where we have chicken wings and can fly faster than the Flash so we can see each other whenever we want to."

You couldn't help but laugh a bit louder, muttering out a little "sorry" as you attracted quite a lot of attention to yourself. "Chicken wings... flying faster than Flash? I think you're beyond sleepy, my love."

Jisung hummed, a goofy smile spreading across his face as he imagined you giggling like mad in the middle of the makeup room. "You think? I thought it was quite clear I've been lacking in sleep since the beginning of the week, Y/nnie."

"Park Jisung, go to sleep then, silly!" You said with a shake of your head. "Need me to sing for you?"

"Yes please," Jisung said as soon as you finished your sentence, tugging the blanket up to his chin as if it was you who tucked him in, and he placed the hoodie right under his nose as if it was you he was hugging instead. He yawned. "I miss- I miss your singing too..."

"What song do you want me to sing for you, my love?" you asked him softly.

"Sing anything, any song you want to sing," Jisung said drowsily. "I don't care if you sing Mad City, Puzzle Piece, or your new song. I just want to hear you singing, I just miss hearing you- you singing."

"Alright, my love."

And with a chuckle, you sang. Your voice soft and gentle as you sang to him a familiar melody, a soothing warmth washing over his body — almost like what one of your nice and toasty hugs would give him. He was slightly thankful you didn't actually choose to sing Mad City for him to sleep to, instead a calm tune of yours he knew you wrote the lyrics to. Making it all the warmer for his heart.

His yawns became more frequent, breaths slowly beginning to even out as he began to drift off into his dreams. His dreams that consisted of you and him, in some magical wonderland, together.

You slowed to a stop when you heard his snores reach your end of the phone and you smiled to yourself. It wasn't everyday Jisung was as clingy as this, so you treasured the rare moments where he so endearingly let you take care of him when it was usually him who babied you. It wasn't everyday you got to see him in person, nor give him all the attention he definitely deserved from you either.

It made your heart ache knowing you couldn't kiss his forehead goodnight whenever he wanted you to nor hug him when he needed you to. You both knew it was inevitable when you became idols together, when you began dating. Trying your absolute hardest to keep your special relationship on the low meant constantly conflicting schedules, resulting in days, weeks, or even months of not being able to see each other at all.

But you knew he loved you, he knew you loved him, and that was enough to keep both of you going.

"Y/n," your group leader called gently, raising your chin and wiping away the tear that unknowingly fell down your cheek. Your leader gave you a sad smile. "Miss him?"

"Yeah," you sighed, sniffling a bit and standing up, your leader giving you a supportive hug as the rest of your members soon came in for a group hug as well. You looked up at them and gave them a genuinely thankful smile. "Do we need to go now?"

Your question, however, was answered by a staff member calling you up one by one for rehearsal. You looked back to your phone, putting it up to your ear to listen to Jisung's peaceful snores one last time before you had to leave your phone with a staff member who impatiently held her hand out for it.

"I love you."— and you ended the call.

[sodone-withlife]

it's a sad song

heavily inspired by Hadestown, will feature lyrics from How Long? and Epic III. thanks to @yourlocalheartbreaker for indulging me and my rants about how much i love this musical

the musical's interpretation of Hades and Persephone's story is perfect for Hotch and Haley, so here is the self-indulgent cliche songfic. as usual, i did little to no proofreading so apologies for any grammatical/spelling errors. it's also more choppy than i'd like, but i really wanted to get it out so i can force myself to work on another angsty Hotch fic

warnings: canonical character death, non-canon character death, suicide

word count: 4k words

(And what has become of the heart of that man, now that the man is king? What has become of the heart of that man, now that he has everything?)

In the grand scheme of things, Hotch was lucky. He was further away from the bomb when it went off and only needed a day and a half in the hospital before he was back at the field office, taking the reins in handling the press and brass that was ready to tear Gideon apart.

The inquisition that followed in Virginia was vicious and by the end, Gideon was on indefinite medical leave and the unit was under the brass’s close scrutiny as Hotch took charge of the unit. As much as the word “temporary” was being parroted around in regards to the new chain of command, it was tacit knowledge that it was a permanent arrangement. A fiasco on the scale of Boston was enough to get an agent fired, and it was only Gideon’s seniority and excellent record that kept him with the bureau.

For Hotch, Boston and the months following only reinforced three lessons that were already hardwired into his brain:

Do not break and do not allow yourself to bleed where others can see, for there are always sharks waiting to tear you apart.

(Give them a piece and they'll take it all Show them a crack and they'll tear down the wall)

Nothing is certain. Even the strongest, the smartest, the most experienced, can fail. Do not fall victim to your own hubris, for it will be your undoing.

(Lend them an ear and the Kingdom will fall The Kingdom will fall for a song)

Death awaits everyone. It takes without mercy or regard for the lives left behind.

He was the new face of the BAU within the bureau, and even his prosecutorial and investigative record could not help protect the team from scrutiny.

So he straightened his spine and hardened his already severely sharp features, throwing himself into work and restoring the unit’s reputation.

Then Hotch came home one day to Haley’s brilliant smile and delighted excitement, and for a moment, he was reminded of the first time he talked to her nearly twenty years ago, when he told her he was quitting his smoking habit.

He had frozen when she first approached him in his dark corner a few weeks after school had resumed in the fall. She had smiled amusedly, his social ineptitude clear as day as he struggled to find words to greet her, to apologize for seeming like a creep over the summer when he first saw her outside on the sports field coaching younger students through vocal warmups before they started rehearsing the musical that was being put on that year, only to completely blank she plopped herself down next to him with her own school bag and lunch.

By the end of that day, he had convinced himself it was only going to be a one-off thing, that she wasn’t going to come back. If he had been honest with himself, part of him, the part that knew so intimately that his mother’s skin only remained free from bruises after his innocent baby brother was born was because his damned father finally had a son he could look at without being reminded of his self-hatred, wished it was.

But then she came back the next day, the day after that, and the day after that, apparently content to sit beside him in silence only broken by periodic comments about the going-ons in her life and the musical. And she continued going to sit next to him, even as he watched as others tried to warn her away, tried to physically guide her away from the bleachers.

What was stranger, he thought, was that she stayed even in spite of his silence, and in spite of his vices—he could tell she didn’t like his habit, but she didn’t comment. She just kept him company.

It was a few weeks into this arrangement, when he saw his still mostly full pack, that he realized that he hadn’t itched for a smoke during lunch for weeks, not while she was there and talking to him in ways he’d never been talked to before.

Sometime later, as the number of cigarettes in the pack remained unchanging, as the pack itself went untouched in his schoolbag, he finally threw it away.

That was the first time Hotch talked to her, to tell her that he’s giving up the habit. That small, but no less proud or bright, smile that spread across her face, he decided, was something he wanted to see again.

Slowly, he started talking more, and on good days, the two made conversation on topics ranging from classes to their favorite books all the way to whatever shenanigans Sean or Jessica was getting into. On other days, on bad days, the silence was never awkward, and she simply kept him company as he struggled to control the storm in his mind.

Those were the days his fingers itched for a cigarette, and those were the days she introduced to him a new book that he would finish within the day. The next day at school, they would once again be stuck in an in-depth conversation about the characters’ flaws and the absurdities of the antagonists, and the itch would be gone.

And it went on like this, even after he threw all caution and his doubts to the wind and asked her out on the first day of their senior year, even as they faced the townspeople’s questions about why such a good girl like Haley Brooks was dating someone of the likes of Aaron Hotchner, who, despite being so coldly brilliant, was just that.

Cold.

Dangerously unfeeling.

Barely human.

But she had seen behind the facade and she knew that he loved with the fierce burning of a thousand suns. She knew how terrified he was of losing everything, that he would be left alone and floundering in a world that was not kind to the lost.

So she stayed, through college, as she went into teaching and him into law, as the final straw came and went and he registered for the Academy and started training, breaking records along the way before finally being assigned to Seattle and quickly climbed his way up the ranks until he caught David Rossi’s keen eye and transferred back to Virginia for the BAU.

Every night, Hotch came home to his wife, the light of his life, and was reminded of why he was working himself to the bone. That day, when he came home a month after Boston for Haley to press a simple rectangular box into his hands, the stakes were raised once again, and he knew he had to fight twice as hard.

Not only for his team, the people he protected so fiercely under that steel mask, but for his son.

Early mornings and late nights became the norm as he threw himself into more and more work, and slowly, the unit began to recover as Spencer Reid and Jennifer Jareau joined the expanding unit, as Gideon returned as a senior agent, and as Elle Greenaway was pulled from Seattle just like he was all those years ago.

Then Jack was born, and he used his accrued vacation time to finally take a month off. Never had he been more terrified than in the moment he first held his son in the delivery room, acutely aware of his tiny size and sheer vulnerability to the dangers of the world.

That night, sleeping in the hospital bed with an exhausted Haley and their child in his arms, he swore to do whatever he could to make the world safer for his family.

His world.

So he tried. He tried and he tried, forcing himself to leave when cases that required their presence in the field came in, forcing himself to take on the heaviest burdens of the job so his team might be protected and his family would be safe.

Maybe a part of him was trying to get him to stop in his tracks and look up, to take a moment so he could clearly see that he was being consumed by the chase.

Maybe if he was strong enough, he could have lifted the weight of his world just enough to change the direction he was going.

But he was scared.

Scared that the moment he looked up, the moment he let go, he would lose everything he was defending.

And so he did not stop—not as Elle was shot in one place she had a right to feel safe in, not as Elle resigned and prevented him from making a terrible choice, not at Reid was suffering in a hell that could only be created by the lure of potent drugs, not as the unit was once again put under scrutiny because of her and Gideon’s actions.

Not even as he was forgetting important appointments, as he was struggling to be present for the important events and early milestones in his son’s life.

Not until he was suspended for two weeks because of the vow he made to himself the moment he stepped into the leadership position to protect the team to the best of his ability.

He stopped, looked up, and put in for a transfer.

But it was too late.

(It's true the earth must die But then the earth comes back to life And the sun just goes on rising)

(I’ve had enough)

The divorce did nothing to lessen the weight on his shoulders or the utter terror he felt at the prospect of stopping.

As more and more cases started piling on his desk, he kept his back bent and head down for hours as he pushed himself to the brink with a mental image of the smile that had not dimmed for twenty years and of the only proof of his humanity at the forefront of his mind.

Every day, he bent lower and lower, but he never let himself crumble, forcing himself to remain Atlas as Kate fell and Morgan nearly followed in New York, Reid and Prentiss in Colorado—

—as JJ and Will brought their first child into the world and he promised to protect her as best as he could so she would not make the same mistakes he did—

—as he wrangled politicians and major corporations in the aftermath of him fulfilling the promise he made to Megan Kane—

—as he called in favor after favor to get to the Vatican so Prentiss could get justice for her friends—

—as he compartmentalized as best he could when he found out about the anthrax attack at a public park he knew Haley and Jack frequented whenever they visit her parents’ house and when Reid got infected—

Then the Reaper returned after ten years of silence and ten years of being a silent spectator in Hotch’s nightmares to become an active participant in his night terrors for months.

But the night Hotch returned to his apartment with the intent of pulling out a glass of scotch and staying on his couch with a book, those dreams that left him nearly paralyzed with fear every night became his reality.

That night, as his team was sleeping in their beds, dead to the world while he was slowly bleeding out from nine stab wounds and floating in and out of consciousness in his own apartment, he only felt fear—fear for the team, fear for Haley, fear for his son.

He faded into unconsciousness with the expectation that that was it, that his hubris finally caught up to him.

Less than twenty-four hours later, Hotch was staring at the dried streak of red on the photo of his whole world and wondering if he had made his way into hell without realizing it.

When Haley and Jack visited him in the hospital, he could barely look at their faces, not wanting the scared and confused expressions they wore to be the last memory he might have of the two people whose lives he sought to protect in throwing himself into work but ended up putting in danger.

Then they were walking away, and he felt his walls slowly building themselves back up to a height and with fortifications that he had not needed since he last wore them in his youth to protect himself against the people in his hometown who had treated him with suspicion and derision.

The months following the day his world was ripped from his weakened grip was its own brand of hell, and more than once he wished he had been less of a coward and let himself look up from his chase.

Soon he was stepping down and ignoring all reason as he threw himself back into work yet again, wearing a facade that his teenage self would have been proud of while desperately trying to fulfill the promise he made Haley, that he would spend the rest of his life making everything up to her.

But of course, life has a funny way of reminding people of the promises they made and the important lessons they have learned at the worst times.

Suddenly, the sound of three gunshots was ripping through his head.

Suddenly, he was forcing himself to look away from Haley’s body, strewn on the floor like a doll with its strings cut, forcing himself to keep it together so he could clear the room.

Suddenly, he was straddling George Foyet and unleashing upon him years of pent-up hurt and anger that he had never allowed himself to feel in favor of remaining strong for the people he loved so fiercely.

Do not break and do not allow yourself to bleed where others can see, for there are always sharks waiting to tear you apart.

Nothing is certain. Even the strongest, the smartest, the most experienced, can fail. Do not fall victim to your own hubris, for it will be your undoing.

Death awaits everyone. It takes without mercy or regard for the lives left behind.

That day, Hotch was reminded of all three statements that he swore to live by after Boston.

Foyet was witness to his unraveling and poked and prodded at him, so much so that he uncovered the rage he inherited from his father and had vowed long ago to never express.

His hubris, his confidence in assumptions that had been made so many times in the past, his confidence that denying the deal that had been offered to him just over a year ago was the right thing to do, cut the threads of over ten people far too early.

Haley was lost to him.

Forever.

But in the years afterward, as Hotch found himself stuck in his head and mentally removed from the team’s present more and more often, he wondered if that was actually the moment that he lost her.

Perhaps the time he had to fly out to Mexico on his birthday weekend was the start and the stress of his suspension the catalyst.

Was he simply too destructive and too desperate to have a happy ending? Was anyone closely associating with him doomed to fall along with him?

Why else was his mother spared from bruising when she was able to focus on raising Sean, a son whose looks did not remind his father of the sheer hatred he felt for himself?

Why else had his brother, who he was estranged from, done so well in life and remained so carefree?

For what other reason could Haley have been murdered than the fact that she was collateral damage in a psychopathic narcissist’s dream to cause him as much pain as possible?

For a short time, Haley’s murder had given Hotch a chance to look up, to free himself from all the responsibilities he had taken on, but it ultimately only served to increase his fear and paranoia. The team had seen the tail end of his unraveling in that house, and he knew it had shaken them to the core, so the walls remained up. Strangers in the street were unsubs, and he was never far away from a weapon if he could help it, always fearing that he would be too late to be of any help.

Four years to the day he locked himself away, he was seeing Haley smiling radiantly at him and wearing the same dress she was wearing when he proposed as she waved him over to sit next to her in an empty movie theater and he was struggling to articulate her beauty.

The large screen in front of them was playing scenes from his life in the years since she was stolen from this life. While her eyes were glued to the projection of his memories, he was left unable to tear his eyes away from her, the woman who had been such an integral part of his life, whose death he would probably never forgive himself for, whose presence in his world he had so desperately missed.

Then he was looking down from the screen when their moment was interrupted by the man who had become a permanent fixture in his night terrors and surprising himself with just how prepared he was to kill again to protect Haley like he had failed to do years ago. It was only Haley’s repeated assurances that finally got him to look back up at the screen, and in the next moment, he was once again experiencing his nightmares in real-time.

His voice cracked as he tried calling out for help, becoming more and more desperate as it became clear no one was coming, and then—

You’re not meant to.

They were suddenly standing face to face in that dark corner of the school where they first met. Hotch froze, rooted to the spot by the uncharacteristically cold expression on Haley’s face.

Where is he?

It wasn’t right, the hard tone, the way she was looking at him as if he were a stranger—

I don’t see Aaron Hotchner in front of me. Where is he?

Then her face softened, and she walked over to sit against the wall, uncaring of the dirt that was gathering on her dress. She stared at him pointedly until he made his way over to her and joined her on the ground. It was with great surprise that he felt her lean onto him, a long-forgotten and now unfamiliar warmth settling over him.

I want to tell you a story.

She told him the story behind an old song, the story about the queen who brought spring and summer with her every time she walked the earth and the king who ruled the shades and the underworld. And though the king loved his queen so desperately, every time she walked the earth while he remained in the underworld, he doubted that she would come back to him, for what could he offer her except his darkness?

So he worked and he threw himself into building a kingdom of metal and glaring bright lights that might compensate for his darkness, but he could not bring himself to look up for fear that he would lose everything the moment he stopped. In his fear, he kept his head low and his back bending, he locked his love away so it wouldn’t be a distraction.

(But what he didn’t know is that what he is defending was already gone.)

When Hotch found himself on the edge of a roof being held against Peter Lewis, who had a gun at his temple, facing the team’s desperate and fearful faces, he could only think about that story Haley had told him and the questions she had sent towards him right before he woke up in the hospital four years prior.

(Where is the treasure inside of your chest? Where is your pleasure? Where is your youth? Where is the man with his arms outstretched to the woman he loves with nothing to lose?)

That was the first time he could remember crying in front of Jack—when the two were clinging to each other in the hospital bed after yet another close call—and he resolved it wouldn’t be the last. It hurt to tear down the walls he had so meticulously built around himself over the course of nearly five decades, but to see the smile that his son inherited from Haley…

He could only lament that he hadn’t started earlier.

Slowly, he rebuilt his world, and it was filled with a warmth that hadn’t been since those golden years between first meeting Haley and becoming a prosecutor.

But then Peter Lewis came and turned his mind against him, forcing him to watch his nightmares come to life. And when he found himself at MPD’s gunpoint with Jack watching, his world cracked.

And in that interrogation room, watching the recording of Lewis’s testimony against him, his world cracked again.

And seeing his son’s withdrawn affect, trying to get him to understand that he wasn’t leaving, that he wouldn’t ever abandon him of his own free will—

Then they were called to Arizona and he found his name carved into a victim’s forehead, and he knew it was only a matter of time before the attacks would become more and more personal.

Favors were called in, calls were made, and all the while Hotch tried to keep Jack as ignorant as possible to the way his world was going up in flames around him. For a moment, it felt like the immediate aftermath of Boston, with all of the non-stop workdays and the scrutiny of the brass falling onto him and the struggle to balance his work and Jack—

And then one day, Jack disappeared in the middle of the school day.

A day later, Rossi and Luke were holding him back, trying to keep him away from the security checkpoint at the entrance of the Academy office buildings that had been taped off as a crime scene. His eyes caught a sudden movement, and all the fight left him when he saw the white sheet being unfolded and lowered over the small body that was on the gurney.

Maybe he was supposed to be more grief-stricken than he felt.

Maybe that’s why the team tip-toed around him in the months afterward—they were waiting for the sand to run out, for the inevitable breakdown that was expected from a man such as him.

And the sand did run out, only it wasn’t where any of them expected.

The cold metal digging into his temple provided him an odd moment of clarity as he thought about the questions he had asked himself—because that wasn’t Haley, she never looked at him with such cruelty, not even when he probably deserved it, it was always that voice in the back of his head, the voice that led him down the road to hell.

That treasure that he kept in his chest—it was buried in the ground with Haley and Jack.

His pleasure, his youth, it was left behind in his past with that first strike he felt from his father.

A smile spread across his face for the first time in months and he closed his eyes, a strange peacefulness settling deep in his bones. He flung himself backward, letting himself become dead weight as he suddenly heard shouts of horror through the sound of the wind rushing around him and Peter Lewis as they fell.

Didn’t you tell me to find the man who was reaching out with nothing to lose?

I found him.

I hope you and Jack waited for me, Haley.

[jay-and-dean]

Tennessee Whiskey

Dean x reader

Summary : The Mark of Cain is making Dean try to drown is demons, the truth is he’s drowning himself. But when a pretty girl offers him a drink, he wonders... Does he really need another whiskey ? So he gets home to the one that waits for him.

Warnings : Fluff, MoC Dean, mention of alcohol abuse, implied Smut.

Wordcount : about 1.5k

Note : This fic is inspired by Chris Stapleton’s song, Tennesse Whiskey.

=> Listen to it while reading Here

***Jay’s Masterlist***

________________________

          You pushed the washing machine buttons, almost enjoying its purr in the silence of the bunker. Heavy, dreadful silence.

           Walking past Sam's room, you sighed, he didn't come home today like he said he might, and you knew he wouldn't tomorrow either, not until he found something. Something that seemed impossible to find.

           How interminable was those corridors really ? Why did the Men of Letters had to make everything so big ? You wrapped your arms around yourself like it could keep you from that freezing loneliness making you want to cry constantly.

           You checked the war room one last time, making sure the lights was on. Getting down those stairs drunk was enough of a challenge to add the darkness.

           He wouldn't come back before a few hours or in the morning. He would smell like whiskey and walk like a man that lost everything... And tomorrow, he would act like he didn't came close to coma the night before, and start drinking at noon.

           You sighed deeply, and decided that you would wait for him again, on that stupid chair all night, even if you had promised yourself you won't do that ever again.

           You opened your laptop and plugged the little speakers you took in every room you went since the Mark became worse. Just to fight that silence...

           Painful, deafening silence.

           But before you could chose what music to play, the door opened in a grating sound and he appeared on its frame. A warm smile appeared on his face the second he saw you were waiting again.

"Dean ?" you frowned, surprised to see him home so early and, from the way he was coming down those stairs, barely worse than tipsy.

"Hey Babygirl."

Maybe more than tipsy.

"Wasn't your evening fun ?" you asked as he was walking closer with a light smile on his face, and his eyes focused on you.

"It was very common" he answered, pouring himself another glass of whiskey. "There was this girl, with a tiny skirt looking at me from the other side of the room..."

A girl now, with a tiny skirt... You could totally see her in your mind, the skirt had to be denim, and she was probably touching her long brown hair with fake waves.

"Great" you just said, a little bitter.

What more could you come up with anyway ? You had done all you could those last few months. Helped him, patched him up, reassured him, looked for a cure, listened, forgave... You had let down your shyness to allow your love for him to shine in every one of your gesture thinking if it could help him though this, then that would just worth exposing your heart... But who were you, huh, compared to a very short dress and shiny hair girl ?

"She came to talk to me" he continued, that mysterious look on his face. "And offered me a drink ! A girl never offered me a drink before" a chuckle left his chest.

"A drink" you repeated, shrugging.

"I really don't need people to offer me drinks..." he muttered and before you could say anything, question him, he gave you a sad but sincere smile, making it obvious that he was remembering something. "But then... They played that song."

He got a step closer, his boot almost touching your chair, and offered you his hand.

           You looked up, unsure. Was he trying to show you something ? To take you somewhere ? His face didn't move, and his hopeful almost enthusiastic eyes convinced you to take his hand and get up. It was rare enough to see him with light on his face lately...

"This song..." his murmured, starting to hum. "It was about you."

"About me ?"

"Yes" he stated, gently wrapping his arms around your waist, careful not to touch you more than you would want to -you wanted everything really-. " 'Made me want to dance with you."

"So you drove home ?" you chuckled slightly, starting to like his kind mood.

"I did. I wish you could hear the song in my head."

You searched his face. He actually looked like a weight had been taken from his shoulders. His eyes were a little brighter and his words were warming the whole place.

           You let yourself enjoy the smell of his skin and the softness of that flannel you loved so much. Dean was close and he had his strong hands on your lower back ; suddenly, any memory of loneliness vanished.

"If you know some words, the title or singer, I could" you smiled, curious, looking at the speakers Sam got you for your birthday.

"I know the title and all" he nodded. "If you open one of your magic things where all the songs are."

You bended a little on your laptop and he only let go of you to type some words, focused, his neck inches away from your craving mouth.

"Loud please" he murmured with a satisfied nod as he seemed to find the song he was looking for.

You turned the speaker volume up and stood straight again to face him. His hand came to the back of your neck gently, fingers shy, encouraging you to put your head on his shoulder.

           The first deep very warm notes rocked you, and the drums matched your heart as you took a deep inhale of his beloved smell, barely believing how tender and intimate this moment was.

           Maybe he was a little drunk after all, maybe this gesture was purely friendly for him, maybe he was just torturing you... Or you were asleep on this hard table, having the best dream of your life. But you couldn't care less as you nuzzled your face close to him, wrapped by his big arms and the smooth heat of the guitar echoing everywhere, finally chasing that damn silence.

But when the deep and powerful voice of the singer invaded the room, the corridors, the entire bunker... Dean started to whisper the lyrics in your ear... And you couldn't help but hang yourself to his neck.

"I used to spend my nights out in a barroom, liquor was the only love I've known..." he whispered and Goosebumps went up your spine. "But you rescued me from reachin' for the bottom, and brought me back from being too far gone."

Tears filled your eyes, and his arms held you closer. His hips started swaying really slightly, because this was obviously more about being against one another than dancing.

"You're as smooth as Tennessee whiskey" his voice suddenly became a little more than a whisper. "You're as sweet as strawberry wine. You're as warm as a glass of brandy, and honey, I stay stoned on your love all the time..."

Your tears fell heavily on his shirt and your hands grasped the fabric in his back. His lips brushed your temple for a second before he continued murmuring the lyrics of your new favorite song against your burning skin.

"I've looked for love in all the same old places" he said more than he sang, putting another kiss close to your hair. "But when you poured out your heart I didn't waste it 'Cause there's nothing like your love to get me high."

You wanted to say a million words, finally having Dean holding you close to his heart, but the song was rocking you so good, the guitar strings were inside your core and your lips were sealed by emotions anyway.

           He kept swaying his clumsy hips slowly, his palms going down on your ass to crush you on him, making you feel his body begging for more of you. His lips went down from your temple to your jaw, never leaving your skin, in a brush that triggered a blaze in your veins.

"Dean..." you murmured in an exhale.

"I don't need anything out there to be stronger" he stated, kissing your neck. "I just need the woman that gives me the will to beat this at any cost."

You knew he could taste the salt of your tears in your neck.

           When he took a step, caging you between the map-table and his strong body, your arm went behind to lift your hips enough to sit on it. But in your rush, you hit his glass, making it fall and shatter on the floor.

"I'm sorry for your whiskey glass..." you started, immediately cut by his plumb sweet eager lips on yours.

"I don't care about whiskey" he assured you, grabbing your thighs to come between them. "I just want to be stoned on you."

____________________________

***FEEDBACK IS GOLD***

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[dailytomlinson]

Zayn channelled R&B, Harry went full-on rock, Niall found his sound in folkish-country pop and Liam just went all over the place. And on January 31st, 2020, Louis Tomlinson became the final member of One Direction to finally release a debut album. I have to say, it was well worth the wait.

Having been through quite a few downs in the last few years (losing both his mother and sister), Tomlinson has packed quite a lot of emotion into this heavily Oasis-inspired album. And you can tell.

This album is sort of like him looking back at the glory days of One Direction with a fond reminisce, while also forging a new path (or should I say, direction) with a sound he seems to have found a new home in.

There are some songs on this album, like “Don’t Let It Break Your Heart” and “Perfect Now,” which will take you straight back to One Direction’s glory days. He channels the pop singer in him, the part that thrived with the global sensation that was the band, and it definitely carries that bittersweet nostalgia that every 1D fan can associate themselves with (I certainly could). The other part channels the new sound Tomlinson is headed towards: old school Britpop, with a heavy Oasis influence.

Here is a track by track analysis of the album:

KILL MY MIND

Right off the bat, the heavy Britpop vibes can be heard. It’s very different from the kind of music Tomlinson has made in the past, and it kind of gives you an idea as to what direction he is about to go in musically.

As Louis has said in his track by track analysis for Apple Music, “This was a statement of intent. This is where I want to be, this is where I want to move into.” He navigates this song with a sort of swagger that is enhanced by the strong guitar riffs in the background. The northern English accent is prominent in this track and overall, this whole song is very British. And it is definitely a fun and exciting way to kick off this album.

DON’T LET IT BREAK YOUR HEART

This is what I’m talking about when I say he also touched on his One Direction roots. The chorus of this song will instantly remind you of a 1D song. It could easily fit into FOUR or Made in the A.M. Tomlinson has acknowledged that this is definitely right up the band’s alley and says that “it’s just one of those songs that’s trying to promote hope regardless of what life throws at you.” And it is definitely a nice song to be humming along to, and for all the 1D fans out there, it adds for a great nostalgia factor.

TWO OF US

This is definitely one of the most emotional songs on the album. Written by Tomlinson for his mother, who tragically passed away a few years ago, it will tug at your heartstrings and maybe get you to shed a few tears along the way. Tomlinson has said that he “wasn’t ready to write the song” but it is definitely “the most special song I’ve ever written”.

When he released this song a few months ago as a single, he said in a statement, “I just feel like musically, I almost needed to get this song off my chest. People say writing is a part of therapy and in a way, I feel like I’d been avoiding writing this song because I knew I only had one chance to get it right. I don’t mean to be too soppy about it, but if ‘Two of Us’ can help just one other person who’s going through the tough time that I went through, then that would make me really happy.”

It is a very raw tribute. Louis has sung his fair share of ballads in the past, but this is definitely his most emotional and personal one yet if the lyrics “You’ll never know how much I miss you / The day that they took you, I wish it was me instead,” are anything to go by. It is truly a beautiful way to remember his mother, who I’m sure would be very proud.

WE MADE IT

This song was also released as a single, and while it’s not one of my favourites, but it’s a good song nonetheless. The song is very road trippy, and the meaning is pretty straightforward: we went through some pretty difficult times, but we made it.

The lyrics tell a story of him looking back at his past and acknowledging all the good and bad times. The song proclaims that we — as in Tomlinson and his fans — made it ’till the end. It is in a similar vein to One Direction’s “History,” which is also like a tribute to the fans of the band.

TOO YOUNG

This is one of my favourites from the album. If you want a sweet but sad little song, this is it. It seems like Tomlinson is singing about being young and reckless, as well as finding someone he would possibly want to spend the rest of his life with. However, it’s too much responsibility for a teenager to comprehend.

In other words, they were too young. (Hence the song title.) It is kind of like an apology to the girl he loves, asking her to forgive him for the stupid mistakes he made because he was “too young” to figure out what all of it means.

Its a beautiful, stripped-down song, with just Tomlinson’s beautifully unique voice powering through some soft acoustic guitar in the background. It is a pretty honest song, as Tomlinson puts it, “We all made mistakes when we were younger, and I just wanted to capture that idea of true honesty.” “Too Young” is the kind of song you’d listen to with a reluctant smile on your face, somewhere between forgiveness and acknowledgment.

WALLS

The title track of the album. Again, very Oasis, but also very different at the same time. Another taste of the new path Tomlinson has forged. I say Oasis because he literally lifted elements from 3 Oasis songs to put on this track, while also giving Noel Gallagher credit as a lyricist and composer. The live guitar riffs add a really fun edge to the otherwise kind of emotional song. Not my favourite in the bunch, but it certainly is a good song to belt out on a road trip.

HABIT

This is also one of the songs I really loved. I feel like this is Tomlinson at his best — when he’s just being himself. It is very festival-esque, in a way. Emotionally deep with subtle instrumentation to back it up, this song has quite a storytelling vibe to it.

The music immediately makes you want to nod your head along to it, and it is very lively and spring-y. It’s emotional, but at the same time, it makes you want to skip along the sidewalk on a nice sunny day. Or sing it along with your friends at a campfire and Louis’ extremely unique voice just elevates it.

It also has an Easter egg from the One Direction days, according to Louis, “There’s a line about the place that we all grew up with in the band, and that was an apartment complex called Princess Park. It’s like an Easter egg for the fans, I’m sure they’ll like that.”

ALWAYS YOU

Definitely an instant favourite of mine — and packed with a lot of emotion. The music is very skip-in-the-step and upbeat so it doesn’t seem like it, but the lyrics are extremely meaningful. The moment the song begins, it instantly brings a fond smile to your face. It is clearly about a man travelling all over the world but always coming back to you — because its always been you.

Yes, it’s that love song. That happy, comforting, good-natured song that is just about that one girl who has captured his heart that he always comes back to.

As Louis puts it, “It’s very autobiographical, me making that realisation that its always been that one person, that no matter where you are and what you see, you miss that one person.”

It makes you feel content, and it makes you feel like you’re home, and it just makes you very happy as you listen to it. “Always You” has some beautiful harmonies and generously shows off Tomlinson’s vocal range, and is easily one of the best songs on this album.

FEARLESS

This one is a belter — and Tomlinson really doesn’t hold back. It is a ballad, something Louis really knows how to do well. Tomlinson really lets go in this song, reaching for those high notes and successfully hitting them, while also trying to capture what it felt like to truly be young, to be fearless.

“Tell me, do you still remember feeling young?” That is what he is asking of us, as he navigates through what it felt like for him and remembering his own youth, reminiscing with fondness.

It is a bittersweet feeling, and it is quite evident as you listen to the song. It is very raw and nostalgic in a way as it will definitely make you go through a trip down your memory lane, as you try to answer his question.

PERFECT NOW

This song is very One Direction. It is in a similar vein as the band’s highly successful ballad “Little Things.” According to Tomlinson, “it’s kind of an extension to “What Makes You Beautiful,” the band’s first single.”

This is his way of telling the world that he absolutely loves the band and wanted a song on the album that reflects his love for it. This song is very simple and stripped down. It tells a story about a girl being beautiful despite her insecurities.

He also mentions not fitting into your jeans, à la “Little Things,” but it works. It’s not my absolute favourite, but it is a cute song nonetheless.

DEFENCELESS

Defenceless is a song I really like. It starts off quite unassuming and doesn’t really catch you, but as the song builds, and the beat drops, and Tomlinson belts out those high notes, you’re hooked right in. The harmonies and background music add a lovely touch to this song, and the bridge is really beautiful.

No, really, the composition in this song is stunning. It’s hard to describe but it kind of is like a comforting happy melody, like something that can easily be used in a video montage. The music just makes you feel really happy, like basking in the sun on a warm spring day.

The song is basically about being vulnerable and experiencing many different feelings: “One day you might be feeling great, youthful and amazing, and the next day you might be feeling a bit down in the dumps.” And that is being defenceless (against your feelings).

ONLY THE BRAVE

This song is the last and the shortest track on the album, and it’s wildly different from the rest. It is a song about what it takes to stand on your own and is the perfect way to round off a very emotional album.

It is very soft and quiet and has a retro vibe to it. The way the end drops off leaves you thinking about everything you just listened to and the lyrics are extremely beautiful with lines like “It’s a church of burnt romances and I’m too far gone to pray” and “It’s a solo show and it’s only for the brave.”

This song will bring a small smile to your face, and it just seems like a classic, like going back in time. And having a song about what it is like to tear the walls down and stand on your own is probably the best way to end an album that is very aptly titled Walls and “Only the Brave” does exactly that.

FINAL VERDICT

Walls as a whole is a pretty impressive debut. It is a cohesive body of work. This has definitely laid a foundation for the kind of music we can expect from Louis Tomlinson.

Although he doesn’t really experiment a lot like some of his other bandmates, Tomlinson sticks to what he knows. He also shows us what he loves in his sound, and it works for him. I have always thought that he has an extremely unique and soothing voice, and this album has utilised it beautifully.

Walls is one of those albums that could over the years easily become a staple classic. It is very emotionally packed, and it seems like the kind of album you can fall back on a few years down the line to find some familiarity and homeliness — like an old friend.

You can definitely see the ambition. Perhaps Louis isn’t taking too many risks here is because this album is more like a reflection of his past. He’s working on tearing those walls down to become a whole new person. Along the way, he adds hints of the kind of sound he’s headed towards.

This album is a foundation for something new and exciting. We don’t quite know who he really is yet musically, but it is definitely a promise for some exciting things to come, and something tells me, for Tomlinson, this is only the beginning

[tropicaldruid]

The Survivor’s Guide to Leaving Your Birth Religion Part 4: Tear It Down

It’s 1998 and I’m on a road trip to North Carolina with my youth group. Like a Bridge Over Troubled Water plays, and my youth pastor lowers the volume, “Have y’all ever heard the story behind this song?” he asks. None of us have.

“The man who wrote this was a drawbridge operator. He had brought his grandkids to work with him one day and despite several warnings, his granddaughter was climbing on the bridge. The man had told his grandkids how dangerous it was but the girl wasn’t heeding him and was playing in the works of the drawbridge. There was a boat full of people coming and the man had to make a choice between his granddaughter, and the lives of all those people on the boat. Rather than risk the lives of all those people he made the ultimate sacrifice…” his voice trailed off for a moment “Years later he wrote this song.”

That story stuck with me. It’s a bizarre and sad story that doesn’t really seem to have a moral that actually holds up to any kind of scrutiny. Of course, it doesn’t help that the story was also bullshit. Paul Simon wrote the lyrics to that song after committing zero bridge-related murders. 

Yet somewhere along the way somebody made that story up. I think it’s inspired by the tragic story behind It Is Well With My Soul. Like Virgil borrowed heavily from Homer, someone decided that Like a Bridge needed a more palatable foundational myth and made one up for it. And apparently thousands of people know this sad backstory that never happened as if it were truth, and bellieve that it serves as a cautionary tale about listening to your elders. 

Stories are so fascinating in the way they can convey some values and undermine others merely by being convincing, whether true or not. For years I believed Charles Darwin renounced “evolutionism” and accepted Christ just before he died. What a damaging idea, a simple one, but one that set my actual academic progress back by years.

It’s time to put the previous months of research to work. 

It’s time to tear down some of the untrue things we’ve been led to believe over the years. 

It’s time to face that we might be idiots a little bit. 

Leaving my religious bubble, I was shocked at how little I knew about the real world and how it worked. How unacceptable my internalized and externalized bigotry actually was, just how bigoted I actually was. 

For someone indoctrinated to believe I was a shining example of God’s love to the ungodly world, this came as quite a surprise to me. 

I needed to identify and challenge a lot of problematic ideas I had, I needed to look at the stories I had learned these ideas and values from and test those stories against other narratives. 

If I had ever stopped to challenge the narrative that Charles Darwin rejected “evolutionism” in favor of creationism I would have learned how absurd the dichotomy was in the first place. 

So the homework for this section is to start identifying these problematic ideas. Make a list of things that maybe you’ve been challenged on in the past. Have you been called a bigot before? A racist? Write that down. Think honestly about that moment and write down what action or words on your part caused it. Google words, read articles with an open mind. Join some discourse and emotional labor groups on social media and ask polite questions. Enter these spaces with humility, you’re in someone else’s sanctuary; and although we are survivors of trauma, we aren’t the only ones traumatized by these institutions and depending on our involvement, we may be culpable in the trauma of others. Be ready to listen and learn rather than defend or explain. 

Maybe that’s not something you can relate to, but you’ve always had a problem with some teaching. Often questioning the highly questionable is met with accusations of non-belief and scorn. “Those bone shaped rocks were put there by The Debbil and if you fall for his tricks then you’re a heathen too!” These ideas would be a great place to start. If you’ve got some questions like this, again google is a great place to plug in a few key words and get a ton of information. Look for academic papers, peer reviewed articles, books by reputable publishers.

Check out this article https://www.mindtools.com/pages/article/fake-news.htm and learn about vetting the information you consume online and in the real world. 

Sit down and compile a list, maybe make three columns. In the first write what someone else told you was problematic, or what idea you’ve had a problem accepting. In the second, write what specific issue was addressed in your words or actions (homophobia, racism, misogyny, anti-semetism, etc) or what specific detail of teaching you take issue with (Eve’s curse makes no sense because all mammals experience pain during childbirth?) Now in the third column write the specific steps you will take to find better information on the topic. 

Be Honest. 

Be Tireless.

This is probably the hardest part of this guide to address because it requires us to be very critical of ourselves, of truths upon which we have founded our identities . We are presented here the opportunity to grow beyond obsolete ideas, or cling to familiar ignorance. 

Admitting we’ve been wrong is hard, and it’s counterintuitive when one has been surrounded by the pretense of absolute, infallible certainty for their whole lives. But facing this stage of our growth with resolve and honesty is so important. Many of these stories we have told ourselves have led to so much harm done to so many innocent people. So we begin this active stage of our growth by minimizing the harm we do to others moving forward. 

When I was in basic training the drill sergeants loved the phrase “Pain is weakness leaving the body” and as much as it grates my nerves to this day, it’s a mantra that has helped in this sort of endeavor. This is a rough time to get through, but we are becoming stronger people for it. By letting go of the familiar, by challenging the things that don’t add up, we are becoming more grounded in what we believe, our beliefs are starting to line up with our true values instead of blindly and unsteadily following the path someone else laid out for us. Be patient with yourself, but be honest in your motives and intentions as you work through addressing these ideas. As you do you may need to make a second list, of people you have harmed because you have believed things that are not. While writing this list, acknowledge the harm to each person in detail. Go as far back as necessary, be as thorough as you can. Decide in each case how to address it, is an apology warranted or would the situation be better healed by a change in behavior moving forward? Commit to it.  If you’ve been following along at home, you’ve got your work cut out for you. As you list the ideas and stories you need to challenge, repost this and share some of them if you feel like it. Let’s shine some light on this misinformation. I have a few I wanted to include in this post but it’s already long enough so I’ll share them later. 

Blessins Y’all

[camillemontespan]

mood ring [mal x mc]

I was inspired after the latest Blades chapter!

Now I haven’t rewritten it because I thought it was perfect  as it was but I thought I could write this alternate version after listening to the song Mood Ring by Britney Spears (please don’t judge me). 

The relevant lyrics are the beginning of this fic. I chose this song because I feel that Mal is always trying to hide his true colours and he wears an armour to keep people away. But mood rings (which have a sort of magical element I guess) show your true colours and how you are feeling (I don’t believe in that but in the Blades universe, I can see mood rings being a thing!)

Warnings: NSFW

I have no idea who else likes Mal. 

@blazerina  @ibldw-main @moonlightgem7 @simplymissjulia @burnsoslow @pedudley​ 

**************************************************

Look in the mirror Who do I see? Who do I wanna be today? If you came for a show Which role should I take? True colours will show Baby, just put me on display

……

Think I've been here before I've turned some hearts into stone And I can't hide it no more

……..

My love is a mood ring Up and down emotions All these mood swings You know how to read the touch of my skin Nothing on my body, but this mood ring You change me

Mal was fully aware of Aurelia’s eyes on him as he moved to shed his shoulder pads. Her eyes were darkening and she was biting down gently on her lower lip, unable to take her gaze off him. 

Mal smirked but really, inside, his heart was hammering against his chest. His throat felt tight; he swallowed, trying to maintain his bravado. She shouldn’t see that he was nervous; what kind of man would she think he was? A weak one. No, he couldn’t have that. 

He took off his shoulder pads and started to narrate what he was doing. ‘Next step is weapons,’ he said, keeping his voice steady. ‘Can’t have nobles getting antsy about those so the dagger is next to go.’ 

His weapons belt fell to the floor with a clatter. 

Mal took a breath. Aurelia’s eyes remained fixed on him, a slow smile creeping up on her face as she watched him strip for her. If only she knew how he was feeling. His pounding heart, his sweaty palms, his dry throat. He felt vulnerable; exposed. He was literally and figuratively exposing himself to her and the thought made him terrified. 

But she couldn’t know that. 

He pulled his shirt off, showing off his muscled chest. Aurelia’s eyes widened as she took him in.

‘Impressed?’ he teased, trying to appear light hearted. 

‘Mal, you are indeed magnificent,’ she whispered, her voice cracking. Her eyes darted to his hands that were now unbuckling his belt.

Mal slowly pulled his trousers off, moving at a glacial pace. Partly to tease her but also because he needed to think this through. He needed to take a moment, relax, stop panicking. 

He had been with plenty of women. That wasn’t the issue here. 

The issue was that Mal Volari was in love with Aurelia and he was terrified of what that could mean. 

******************************

He stood before her, naked. 

‘Wow…’ she breathed. ‘Mal.. you are just..’

Mal clenched and unclenched his fists; a habit he had from childhood when he was uncertain. But Aurelia didn’t know that about him. Mal hoped that he just looked brooding and powerful; not feeling close to a nervous breakdown. 

‘Come here,’ she murmured. ‘Undress me.’

Mal moved towards her, reaching out to pull her against his chest. Aurelia purred as her fingers ran down the veins that pulsed fiery blood through his veins; his heart was still hammering against his chest. 

He pulled her shirt off and threw it across the room. His fingers worked quickly, eager to have her bare too. They could be stripped together; vulnerable. Mal wanted to level the playing field. 

She was beautiful. Mal exhaled, his brown eyes scanning her body. ‘You’re beautiful, kit..’

Aurelia blushed which only made Mal’s heart pound harder. 

‘I want you,’ she whispered. 

Mal’s finger grazed along her jawline; his lips followed, peppering light kisses along her skin, soft as feathers. Aurelia let out a low moan and braced her hands against his chest, making him walk backwards towards the bed. She pushed him down onto his back, making him laugh. 

Aurelia ran her hands along his chest where she felt the pounding of his heart. 

She stopped.

‘Mal,’ she said quietly. ‘Are you alright?’

‘More than alright, kit,’ Mal replied. ‘I’m right where I need to be-’

‘No,’ she interrupted, her eyes penetrating his. ‘Talk to me.’

He realised he had to be honest. She wouldn’t let it go otherwise. Mal’s breath came out hitched. ‘I.. I feel vulnerable when I’m around you,’ he whispered. ‘That’s all. My heart starts hammering, my hands feel sweaty and I have no control over my emotions. I feel my defences lowering and I.. I can’t get used to it.’

Aurelia frowned, confused. ‘But do you want me?’

‘More than anything,’ Mal said quickly. ‘Fuck, Aurelia.. Of course I do. You make me feel things I’ve never felt before. You make me happy-’

‘Then why can’t you let go?’ she asked. ‘It’s just me.’

Mal looked at her steadily now. She was so beautiful; he had always thought she was. She was brave, more brave than he was; hell, she was the bravest person he had ever met. She was strong and powerful and kind and genuine. She was everything Mal had been searching for. Forget treasure and gold; Aurelia was worth so much more than all the treasures of the world combined. 

‘I.. I guess I’m scared,’ he whispered, his voice cracking. ‘Scared to let go, to be vulnerable, to show my true colours. The few people who have seen the real me have always ended up hating me. Or they stab me in the back. I can’t let myself down by trusting.’

He saw the sadness fill her eyes. Pushing on, he continued to explain. ‘But I know you won’t do that,’ he assured her. ‘You’re not like the others. You’re different. You make me want to be different.’

Mal exhaled and swallowed hard, casting his eyes down. ‘I care about you, kit,’ he whispered. ‘More than anything else in the world.’

Aurelia stared at him for one long, excruciating moment. Before Mal could react, Aurelia’s mouth crashed against his, her tongue sliding between his lips. Mal let out a surprised groan before sinking into her embrace. 

She pulled away after a delicious moment. Mal watched her, breathing heavily, as Aurelia slid her ring off her finger and placed it on his own. 

‘Are you proposing to me?’ he joked, his voice thick. 

Aurelia rolled her eyes. ‘It’s my mood ring,’ she told him. ‘Nia gave it to me. The colour adjusts according to your mood.’

‘So why are you giving it to me?’

Aurelia smiled. ‘I want to see your true colours, Mal Volari,’ she said. 

**************************

As Aurelia’s lips travelled along his chest, kissing his skin delicately, the ring glowed green on Mal’s finger.  Mal closed his eyes, focusing on her touch, enjoying the feel of her lips on him. 

Her lips kissed his neck, turning the ring blue.

‘I’ve wanted this for so long,’ he whispered.

‘Me too,’ she breathed in his ear, making the hair on his arms stand up.

Mal travelled every colour of the rainbow. Aurelia would cast occasional glances at the ring, smiling to herself as she watched the colours change and show his mood. But soon, the ring stayed at one constant.

Violet.

‘What does the violet mean?’ Mal whispered.

‘Well, how do you feel?’ Aurelia asked, positioning herself on his lap, so achingly close. 

‘I feel.. Happy,’ he told her. 

Aurelia smiled, rolling her hips against his and letting out a gasp as she felt him fill her.  Mal groaned, digging his fingers into her hips.

‘Very happy,’ he muttered, increasing the speed. ‘On top of the world.’

‘Violet also means passion,’ Aurelia murmured in his ear. ‘Want to show me the passionate Mal Volari?’

Mal’s eyes met hers. A long silence stretched out between them. Mal could feel his heart hammering against his chest and his throat constricting. But he could also feel her body on his, her warm skin. He could see her brown eyes that were always so kind. He could see this beautiful woman and he wanted to show her that he loved her. 

‘You think you’re ready for that, kit?’ he asked, raising an eyebrow. Aurelia giggled, which made his heart flip. 

‘More than ready,’ she said. 

Mal smiled and brought his lips to meet hers again. They began to move as one and the ring on Mal’s finger stayed violet, pulsing and bright against his skin.