#i feel i can wake up tomorrow and see the world just ever so slightly brighter

[fettery-fetterie]

Why should knowledge hurt? Why not just make it gold? For me myself and I

[o-batll3]

Can I request a laia codina or Kiera walsh fic please 🫶🏻 maybe one where her and reader are friends but they get drunk and sleep together and things are weird for a bit till they decide to keep things casual, no feelings. And at the end can they realise that they have feelings for eachother and get together. Maybe their team helps push them to realise

a night to remember - l.codina x reader

warnings : none, little suggestive

masterlist

you and laia codina have been best friends ever since you both joined arsenal. training together, traveling for matches, and late-night conversations over cups of tea—a bond neither of you had expected to form so quickly. over time, you became inseparable, the kind of friends who knew each other’s thoughts without speaking a word. and tonight, the team’s big victory against a rival club meant the whole squad was out celebrating at a local bar.

the atmosphere is electric; the team is laughing, drinking, and dancing. you’re already a few drinks in when laia challenges you to a tequila shot contest, and there’s no way you can back down.

“alright, y/n, let’s see what you’ve got,” she teases, eyes glinting mischievously as she lines up the glasses.

you smirk, feeling the warmth of the alcohol making you bold. “oh, you’re on, codina. don’t cry when you lose.”

the contest quickly escalates, and before long, both of you are laughing so hard you can barely stay on the barstools. shots blur together, and the world gets hazy around the edges. eventually, the two of you stumble outside, leaning on each other, sharing breathless laughs and struggling to stay upright.

“you know,” laia slurs, “you’re... you’re not half bad, y/n.”

you roll your eyes, the night spinning slightly as you look at her. “and you’re... you’re trouble.”

she raises an eyebrow, grinning in that way that always makes your heart beat a little faster. “oh yeah? prove it.”

before you realize what you’re doing, you’re pulling her in by the collar of her jacket, your lips crashing together. she responds instantly, her arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer. the kiss is messy, all heat and urgency, and it feels like a line you’ve just crossed, one that you can’t come back from.

you both break apart, breathing hard, foreheads touching. the world is spinning, and her eyes are darker than you’ve ever seen them, pupils wide with alcohol and something else you don’t dare name.

“my place,” she whispers, voice rough, and you don’t hesitate to nod.

you wake up with a throbbing headache and the weight of an arm draped over your waist. for a moment, you don’t move, confusion and disbelief mingling in your mind. then realization hits: laia. last night. the kiss. the heat of her body against yours. you turn your head slowly and see her, still asleep, hair a mess across the pillow. she looks peaceful, content, and for a second, you think about just staying like this.

but panic sets in. carefully, you slip out from under her arm, grab your clothes, and make your way to the bathroom. you stare at yourself in the mirror, cheeks flushed, lips swollen, and you can’t believe what happened. what you let happen. it was a mistake, right? just a drunken slip-up. you can’t afford to make things weird with laia, not when she’s your best friend and your teammate.

when you step back into the room, she’s stirring, rubbing her eyes with a lazy smile. “hey,” she says softly, voice still rough with sleep.

“hey,” you reply, forcing a casual tone. “i, um, should probably get going. early training tomorrow and all.”

her smile falters just a little, but she nods. “yeah... yeah, of course. see you there.”

you grab your things and leave, heart racing as you practically run out of her apartment, trying to push away the memory of her lips on yours, the feel of her skin under your fingertips.

things are weird after that. not awful, just... different. at training, you catch her glancing at you when she thinks you’re not looking. when you joke around with her like you always do, it feels forced. she’s still laia, and you’re still you, but there’s a tension now, something unspoken hanging in the air. you keep telling yourself it’s fine, that it’ll blow over, but every time you’re near her, all you can think about is that night.

the team notices too. they’re not stupid—especially not the older players, who exchange knowing looks every time you and laia fumble a pass or seem a little too stiff during drills. it doesn’t help that you’re both quieter in the locker room, that the easy banter you used to have has been replaced by careful, measured words.

finally, one evening after training, you find laia waiting for you outside the locker room. she looks nervous, chewing her lip in that way she does when she’s thinking hard about something.

“we need to talk,” she says, and your stomach twists with both relief and dread.

“yeah,” you agree. “we do.”

you walk together to a quiet corner of the training grounds, the evening air cool against your skin. she crosses her arms, looking everywhere but at you. “look, y/n, about that night... i don’t want things to be weird between us.”

you nod, trying to ignore the ache in your chest. “me neither. it was... i mean, we were both drunk. it didn’t mean anything.”

she nods quickly, almost too quickly, and something flashes in her eyes that you can’t quite read. “yeah. exactly. it didn’t mean anything. so... we’re good?”

“we’re good,” you say, forcing a smile that feels like it might crack your face.

things go back to normal, sort of. the tension fades, but it’s still there, simmering just beneath the surface. a few weeks pass, and one night, after another win, you and laia find yourselves back at her place, a few drinks in, the unspoken promise of that first night hanging heavy in the air.

she’s the one who brings it up this time, voice hesitant. “maybe... maybe we could keep it casual. no feelings, no strings. just... fun.”

your heart skips a beat, but you nod. “yeah. no strings.”

and so it begins. late nights at her apartment after matches, stolen kisses in the backseat of the team bus when no one’s watching, and quiet mornings tangled in sheets. you tell yourselves it’s just physical, that there’s nothing deeper there. but each time you leave, you feel a little more hollow, like you’re leaving a part of yourself behind.

it takes a few months for the team to finally step in. you don’t know who starts it, but one by one, your teammates begin to push. viv gives you a knowing smile every time you sit next to laia on the bus. beth corners you in the locker room after training and says, “you know she likes you, right?”

“we’re just friends,” you insist, but even you don’t believe it anymore.

then, during a particularly tense training session, kim pulls both you and laia aside. “whatever’s going on with you two, sort it out,” she says firmly. “it’s affecting your game. and we need you both at your best.”

you and laia exchange a look, and there’s a silent agreement in her eyes. something has to change.

it’s after a hard-fought match, and the adrenaline is still pumping when you find laia alone in the locker room, staring at her phone like it holds the answers to all her problems. without thinking, you cross the room and pull her into a kiss. it’s slow this time, gentle, and when you pull back, she’s staring at you with wide, shocked eyes.

“this isn’t just casual for me,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper. “i think i’ve been lying to myself about that for a while.”

her breath catches, and for a moment, you’re sure she’s going to walk away, but then she’s pulling you back in, her arms tight around your neck, and you can feel the answer in the way she kisses you back. this time, it’s not rushed or desperate. it’s a promise. the way she pulls you hair back whilst whispering sweet nothings and praises has your mind spiralling.

things are different after that. you’re not hiding anymore, and your teammates don’t bother to hide their satisfaction either, cheering and teasing when you and laia walk into training hand-in-hand. the tension is gone, replaced with something steadier, something real.

[euphoricfilter]

domestic daydreams:

[cheese sandwiches at the park tomorrow]

pairing: influencer! jungkook x f. reader

genre: fluff || established relationship || non-idol au ||

summary: a window into the life of jeon jungkook

word count: 1.2k

tags/ warnings: just lots and lots of fluff its sickening

notes: am slightly tempted to turn this into a mini series because there's so much to talk about...

where you can find all my other stuff!!

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.

Jungkook thinks both you and himself had always been connected by the delicate knots of the red string of fate. Possibly a constrictor knot, because it only ever seemed to grow tighter with every moment you spent together, impossible to untie as your souls start to intertwine and lives mingle into one.

His ever-growing infatuation with you, evident to his online audience.

Because he had no issue showing you off, talking about you in videos and sharing you with the wider world. He thinks it must be a tingly sort of satisfaction he gets, knowing that no matter how many faceless people love you, he will forever love you more. No matter how many people compliment you with how pretty you are, comments flooded with praise for your mere existence, he will forever appreciate you the most. Your entire being a precious little thing that he has sewn into his fragile human heart, yours forever to keep.

He knows he’s able to touch you in ways no one else can. He knows he’s able to wake up to you each morning, press soft lips to soft skin, warm under calloused hands as eye lashes tickle tender skin as the sun leaks through the curtains. Each passing moment peacefully quiet until you murmur his name, fingers pressing into his skin as you pull him closer for a kiss.

He’d started posting online only months before meeting you, a little creative outlet to get rid of that itch of not taking media, but rather choosing game design. A subject he loved dearly, though desperate to visualise his life through moving image and all the cool things that come with that.

And during the months of you talking, his presence online slowly started to take off. What had once been only a creative outlet morphing into such a huge part of his life. Something he had wanted to keep from you for so long, a little whisper in his brain worried it would send you running. With some of the comments he received, dms from both men and women alike, he wasn’t exactly sure how to bring it up to you.

And he knows in hindsight it was a silly little worry because you loved every part of him. Loved that he shared little parts of his life with so many people. Passions clipped into videos, well-loved equipment laying around his apartment, something so wholly Jungkook you found yourself beaming whenever he would get the tripod out to film himself cooking, or planning a design for an assignment, or just little clips of nature when the both of you go on walks.

Because what had once been a video diary for Jungkook had slowly become a video diary for you too, perfectly crafted memories that you find yourself watching when you’re alone. Always so hard to keep the smile off your face as you see how happy you are. Because that’s what Jungkook makes you; incredibly happy.

You watch as he tries to balance his phone against a bag of pasta neither of you had wanted to put away the night before, chin resting on the palm of your hand as you watch him struggle.

“Why don’t you get the tripod?” you murmur, catching his attention.

Jungkook turns to look at you, eyes a little wide, “Because I just want to film me making our lunch” he tells you.

“Besides—” he continues, “that would mean I have to go into the bedroom, and I don’t feel like being apart from you today” he says as he turns back to his phone, fiddling around with the settings a little so the light from the kitchen window wouldn’t look so harsh.

Your lips quirk up into a smile, toes curling into the floor.

“I would come with you” you sit up a little straighter, catching a glimpse of his face on the screen of his phone, “we could even hold hands too”

Jungkook pauses, hands pressing into the counter as he narrows his eyes at you over his shoulder, “Are you patronising me?”

Your nose scrunches up at that, “No” you start, “just so you know, I love holding your hand”

He hums, “Well then I guess you’re lucky… I like holding your hand too”

“Oh—” your eyes widen, “It’s gonna fall”

Jungkook winces when his phone tips forward, bottom lip tucked between your teeth as he lifts it back up again.

You push the chair away from the table, slipping your own phone out of your pocket, laying it flat against the counter so his will stop slipping.

“Thank you, baby” he leans down, pressing a kiss to your cheek, face only an inches away from yours when he decides it isn’t enough and presses a firm kiss to your lips too.

“Now,” he nods, “let’s make us lunch”

You push yourself to sit on the counter by his phone as he hits record, smiling up at you as he starts talking.

“Me and Y/n went shopping earlier and saw this new cheese I wanted to try, so I’m gonna make us sandwiches for lunch” he says, pulling the chopping board closer to himself as he pulls the drawer open to get a knife.

“Cucumber” he shows the camera, quick as he cuts it up, “and today we’re having tomatoes, but none for the pretty girl because she doesn’t like them” he explains, showing off the produce his dad had been growing in their garden, proud smile on his face as he hands you a slice of cucumber to eat while he finishes preparing lunch.

You slip off the counter when he calls you over, hesitant to step in frame and see yourself on camera. Jungkook steps a little closer to you, arms slipping out of frame to hold your hands as he looks down at you, so much adoration in his eyes.

“I wish you could see yourself through my eyes” he whispers, already knowing where your hesitation stems from, “always such a pretty little thing”

You glance over at the camera, video still recording, “Jungkook… your video” you murmur.

“Doesn’t matter” he shakes his head, “you know you don’t have to be in it if you don’t want to” he tells you, “Whatever you’re comfortable with, yeah?”

“We could film something tomorrow” you say, “we should go to that park again, maybe have a picnic?”

His lips quirk up into a smile, “I’d like that” he nods, “And if this cheese is any good, we can make even better sandwiches”

“Good point” you nod, “I’ll have to take you up on that offer if you make a solid lunch today” you step away from him, eyeing the finished sandwich sat on the chopping board.

“I always make the best lunches” he tells you, reaching into a cupboard for two plates.

“Our favourite girl doesn’t want to be on camera today” Jungkook mumbles, mouth half full of food as he looks at himself before glancing at you on the opposite side of the table, “But what’s the verdict, baby?”

You chew, nodding as you give him a thumbs up, Jungkook returning the gesture as his eyes curl up into a smile.

“Love you” he swallows.

“Love you too” you pucker your lips, watching as he leans over the table to press a kiss to your lips.

[flowercrowngods]

🤍 also on ao3

It’s just past 3am when Steve finally caves and reaches for the phone on his night stand. His fingers are trembling slightly as he dials Eddie’s number — he knows it by heart even though he never called before. Eddie gave it to him a few weeks ago, making him promise that he’d call if he ever needed to talk.

“Any time of day or night, alright, Harrington? Call me whenever.”

And so that’s what he’s doing now, feeling strangely vulnerable about it. There’s no way Eddie’s gonna pick up. He’s gonna wake him. He’s gonna keep him from his sleep, possibly even interrupting one of the few nightmare-less nights he has.

Steve feels guilty the very second the dial tone meets the silence of his room, his chest heavy, eyes closed. Part of him hopes that Eddie won’t pick up the phone, that he’s in deep enough sleep to miss the call, that he’ll come into Family Video tomorrow and smile at Steve like he always does, none the wiser.

But, miraculously, amazingly, unfortunately, Eddie does pick up the phone. Rather immediately, at that.

“Yeah?” He sounds sleepy, and Steve’s heart falls immediately. He can���t get his mouth to work, only holding the phone to his ear, soaking up Eddie’s sleepy voice and trying to replace the guilt, the weakness, the heaviness of another sleepless night. “Hello?”

Steve remains silent. Can’t quite get the words to work. Fucking figures.

“Stevie? It’s you, isn’t it?”

He nods, stupidly, before saying, “Yeah. Sorry.”

“Hey now, what the hell do you have to be sorry for?” There’s shuffling on the other side and Steve imagines that Eddie is sitting up now, settling in to listen to the sob story of the nightmare Steve had without even falling asleep first. He does that sometimes. Doctor Owens has a fancy term for it, but Steve doesn’t want a label for his insanity. Because if there’s a label, that means it’s nothing special — and that’s kinda the only thing he has left.

But he doesn’t tell Eddie anything about that. Maybe one day. If he sticks around. Gods, but Steve hopes he does.

“If you’re sorry for calling me,” Eddie continues, his voice impossibly soft, “you don’t gotta be that. It’s fine. It’s why you have this number, alright? I’m here.” There’s more silence for a moment, but it’s the kind of silence that leaves him room to breathe. Eddie is good at that kind of silence, despite the fact that he talks so much all the time.

Maybe it’s the constant talking that makes the silences all the more significant.

“What do you need, Stevie?” Eddie asks then, and Steve hides under his blanket, the phone pressed to his ear. “I could come over. Or you could come over, I don’t really care either way.”

“No. Don’t wanna move. And…” No company, he wants to say, but the words get stuck in his throat. Sometimes company and kindness make the bad times worse. They make it more real, and what Steve needs is for everything to be a little less real. Maybe that’s why he’s calling Eddie. There’s no way that boy with his doe eyes and his wide smiles and his gentle voice in the middle of the night is real.

“Alright, I got it.” Eddie breathes deeply on the other end and Steve remembers that that’s a good idea actually, so he follows Eddie’s breath for a while.

“Can we just…” He trails off. Gives up on finding words, cringing at himself, glad that Eddie can’t see him like this.

“Can we what, hm?”

Steve shakes his head and remains silent, knows that his voice will sound anything but strong when he opens his mouth, and every second Eddie doesn’t hear what a mess he is, is important.

“I’m bad at this,” is what he settles on, closing his eyes against the world inside and outside his blanket.

“At what? Sleep? Words?”

Yes, and yes. But it’s not what he means. “Asking for things. I’m not good at that.”

“Hey, neither am I,” Eddie says and it sounds like he’s smiling. Steve imagines it and he hopes, oh he hopes that Eddie is smiling. “Y’know how I told you to call me whenever? That was essentially me just asking for you to call me. To know that… that I’m here.”

“I do,” Steve says quietly, and his body is sort of trembling with the confession. “I do know that.”

“Good,” Eddie breathes. “So what do you need?”

Steve sighs and pretends he’s somewhere else, pretends he’s in a world where asking is easy, where being known comes naturally and not with shaking voice and trembling hands. Pretends Eddie knows him already.

“Can we just… Fall asleep like this? Talking, I mean, though I don’t even know if I have things to say. The silence is more important anyway. You’re good at those, did you know?”

A light chuckle comes from Eddie, and Steve smiles along with it. “I’m good at silences? Me, Eddie Munson? You sure you don’t have the wrong number?”

“Very.” It’s all Steve says, and then it’s Eddie who’s quiet— as if to prove his point.

“Yeah, Stevie,” he says after a beat, his voice making Steve shiver. “We can fall asleep like this. Do you need me to talk to you, or…?”

He considers briefly, but he already knows the answer. He doesn’t need Eddie to talk. Just needs him to be there.

“Nah. Just… Just be there?”

There’s a hum now — the same kind of hum that Eddie always does right before giving him that secret smile of his, when he’s about to touch Steve or give him a new pet name. Sometimes, when the door to Family Video falls shut behind Eddie and Steve is left to deal with his fluttering heart, he likes to believe that this him has been placed into the universe with his name to it.

He wonders if Eddie knows. If the hum tastes like his name, if it makes Eddie’s heart flutter just as much.

“Hey Stevie?” Eddie interrupts their silence after a while and Steve can’t fight the smile on his lips.

“Yeah?”

“Did you know that otters hold hands at night so they don’t drift away from each other in their sleep?” He waits for a moment, allowing for a reaction, leaving another silence for him to claim. He does, but only with a smile as he grips the phone tighter, imagining it to be Eddie’s hand. “This sorta feels like that.”

The trembling that hasn’t really stopped is back now, the air heavy with implications and possibilities. Steve swallows.

“You keeping me from drifting away, Munson?”

“I hope so.”

It’s whispered words across the lines, crossing lines and blurring them. It’s taking his breath away, replacing it with something else, something new, something he has only felt when they were alone, but never this intense. He fills his lungs with it.

“Hey Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

More whispers, more greedy lungfuls of this something new.

“Is it bad that I kinda wanna hold your hand now?”

A beat, a sigh, a careful breath. It makes Steve think that the air in Eddie’s room is sizzling too, heavy and light at the same time. Maybe it’s just as addictive.

“Only if it’s bad that I’m kinda imagining yours in mine right now.”

Steve shakes his head again and doesn’t feel stupid about it now. “I don’t think that’s bad,” he whispers.

“Good.”

Maybe whispers are their new language. Maybe everything else is too harsh for this fragile thing, maybe the world outside Steve’s blanket isn’t ready to see the smile on his face or hear the rapid beat of his heart. He doesn’t mind.

“Tomorrow. Can I hold your hand tomorrow?”

“What do you mean, Stevie, you’re already holding it.” And there’s that smile again that makes Steve huff out the softest of chuckles, hiding his face in his pillow to ground himself against this heady feeling. “Yeah, you can hold it tomorrow, but only if I can hold yours, how’s that sound?”

“Sounds perfect, Eds,” Steve says, just louder than a whisper, and he waits with bated breath if anyone out there in the universe heard, if their bubble would burst.

But it doesn’t. Eddie only murmurs a sweet, soft, “Can’t wait.” And then there’s only silence because they’re both smiling, hearts racing, hands trembling around the phantom touch of warm fingers. They fall asleep like that soon after.

[riordanness]

tolerate it — [p.mellark]

wordcount: 3.9K

warnings: slight death mentions, but bro it’s the hunger games what did you reallllllly expect

requested: yes!! @ornellastreet <33

I didn’t think it was possible for my mood to get worse after being reaped, but hearing his name called out over the loudspeaker definitely made me feel like hitting something.

“Peeta Mellark!” The chipper lady, Effie, is way over the top about all this. I mean, I get that it’s her job and all, but we’re kids, fighting to the death. We aren’t lottery winners or something.

I watch as the all too familiar blond boy’s face goes pale, then stare as he slowly makes his way towards the platform, toward me. He doesn’t look me in the eyes at first, just simply takes his place beside Effie.

“We have our tributes!” Effie squeals excitedly. “Now, shake hands, you two.”

Great. I clench my jaw as I hold my hand out to Peeta. He hesitates for just a second, but when he sees my expression, he quickly shakes my hand.

“Excellent!” Effie claps, and I feel the ridiculous urge to slap her wig off.

“Come along, both of you.” Effie waves us into the back rooms of the Justice Building. As I follow her and Peeta, I glance back over my shoulder, at what is probably my last look at home.

I sit beside Peeta, my fingers tracing the soft blue velvet of the couches in this ridiculously extravagant train car. I stare out the window, watching the world flash by faster and faster, till I get dizzy and have to stop. Then I stare at the floor.

Every part of me is aware of the boy only a few inches away. If I leaned even slightly, I would be brushing shoulders with him.

After noticing this, I quickly lean the other direction. I rest my hot forehead against the cool glass window, close my eyes, and try to pretend this is all a dream.

“Well, well, well.” A drawling male voice comes from somewhere above me, and I wake with a start. I must’ve fallen asleep in my chair, which almost impresses me because I was sure I’d been too scared to sleep.

I squint up and recognise Haymitch, the only living victor of District Twelve. He had a glass of alcohol in his left hand, and is waving the other hand at me. “Up, up!” he insists.

I get to my feet uncertainly, glancing around for a sign of Peeta.

“The boy’s already gone,” Haymitch says. “We’re arrived.”

“Arrived?” I ask. “Where?”

He spreads his hands, like ‘are you stupid?’. “The Capitol, sweetheart. Now come on. Everyone’s waiting for you.”

Honestly? It wasn’t how I’d pictured it. I haven’t ever seen much of the Capitol, but the image in my head was way off. Everything was way more extravagant and expensive and ridiculous than I could ever have imagined.

We’ve been here almost two days now. Last night was the parade, where me and Peeta were basically lit on fire and forced to hold hands while all the Capitol citizens stared at us like we were circus animals. I hated every second of it.

I stand now in my room, on Floor 12 of this stupid tribute apartment complex. I stare out the windows, watching the Capitol go by. My fingers fidget with the satin sleeve of my new top, the most fancy thing I’ve worn to date.

I glance at the clock on the wall, and remember I’d better get going to dinner. Effie, Haymitch, Peeta, and apparently our stylists will all be waiting for me.

I hurry.

At the table, I’m forced to sit beside Peeta, much to my annoyance. He leaves me alone, though, which is more than I can say about Effie, who is peppering me with questions. I answer as little as I can, refusing to give this woman any information worth hearing.

“So.” My stylist, Cinna, gives me a smile. He’s nicer than I thought any Capitol people were capable of, but I didn’t exactly like him, not yet. “Ready for your interview tomorrow?”

“No.”

“I have your outfit ready to go. You’ll prepare with Haymitch and Effie all day, till four, then you’re mine. I’ll make you gorgeous.”

“Okay.”

Effie makes an exasperated sound in her throat. “Can’t you just try to be excited?”

I stare at her, dumbfounded. I can’t believe this. “What, excited to die?” I fake an extremely over exaggerated smile. “I can’t wait!”

Peeta kind of laughs, then immediately tries to hide it with a cough and a glass of water.

I ignore him. I’ve become pretty good at that.

Haymitch smirks. Effie sighs. Cinna gives me a knowing little wink, and Peeta’s stylist, Portia, doesn’t look at me.

I sigh and shove my chair from the table. “Night,” I announce, and storm to my room. I collapse instantly into my bed, curl into a ball, and let the tears come. I fall asleep like that, crying for home, for safety, for comfort.

The next morning, I’m woken by Effie’s ridiculous ‘It’s going to be a big, big, big day!’ The entire day sucks from that point onwards.

Both Haymitch and Effie are at their wits ends with what to do with me during my interview.

Effie has me first, and for the first hour, she keeps her optimistic outlook on my potential. Two sarcastic words from me and fifty-seven minutes later, she looks ready to wring my neck then and there. She hands me over to Haymitch looking ready to cry. I have a tiny bit of satisfaction from that, I’ll admit.

Haymitch looks, I don’t know, preoccupied, the entire of our session. Everytime I say anything, he seems almost jumpy. Eventually I give up and sit there in silence until he lets me go. I have a shower per Cinna’s instructions and wait for him in my room.

I have to admit, Cinna is a genius. His handiwork is incredible. I stand in front of the mirror and smooth my skirts, a hint of my smile on my face.

Luxurious clothing, especially dresses, were never something I even thought of back in Twelve. But it felt pretty damn good to wear one.

The dress is gold, with little pockets of white and yellow and orange and red and silver and black, like fire. When I move, it’s almost like flames are flicking over me.

“This is amazing, Cinna,” I tell him. “Thank you for making me feel pretty tonight.”

Cinna gives me a hug, and a kiss on the forehead. “I’m not allowed to bet,” he says in reply, “but if I could, I’d bet on you.”

This time, I really do smile.

I officially want to die then and there the instant I’m up on that brightly lit stage. I have no idea what to say, or how to act, and I fumble my way through the entire interview. Even Caesar Flickerman, who never seems to run out of funny things to say; who always knows how to keep the conversation flowing effortlessly, is at his wits end with me. It seems to be my only talent; making people exasperated at me.

I leave the stage to the quietest round of applause the world has ever known.

I pass Peeta in the hall, and he gives me the smallest look of acknowledgement. I wish we could just stop pretending to be friends. Nothing has ever hurt me as much as Peeta Mellark has, and I don’t know how to forgive him for it. There’s a tiny part of me that’s almost glad we're going into the Hunger Games. No matter how it goes, I won’t ever have to deal with Peeta again after this.

I go to stand beside Haymitch and Effie, and prepare to watch Peeta’s interview. I wonder what he will talk about.

I kind of feel annoyed at him the longer the interaction goes on. He and Caesar bounce effortlessly off each other, talking and joking about… showers? Anyway, the crowd seems to love it.

Then, everything changes.

Caesar leans in to Peeta conspiratorially. “So, Peeta,” he says in a whisper, but directly into the microphone of course. “Is there a special girl back home?”

“Uh, yeah, Caesar, there is.” Peeta looks a little red at the confession.

I have to resist the urge to roll my eyes. We’re about to be slaughtered, and they’re discussing crushes? How ridiculous is that?

“Oh do tell.” Caesar sounds more like a teenage girl than a grown man. “We’d love to hear about her.”

Peeta clears his throat, and looks uncomfortably at the cameras. From my position inside, it’s like he’s staring right at me.

I quickly look away.

“Well,” Peeta begins, “she’s amazing. She’s one of the best people I’ve ever known, and I stuffed it up with her once. I’ve never forgiven myself for that.”

I glance at the screen uncertainly.

Peeta stares right back out at me. “I’m sorry for what I did. I want to do everything in my power to fix it. I promise. I love you.”

Caesar makes a squealing noise. “How adorable!” he exclaims. “You’ll have to get back to District 12 and she’ll have to forgive you.”

Peeta laughs uncomfortably. “That wouldn’t work, in my case.”

“And why not?”

“Because…” Peeta shifts in his seat. “Because she came here with me.”

I remember very little of the aftermath of Peeta’s comment. I know a flash of fury, disbelief, and shock ran through me at once. I know I dashed off to my room. I know I got out of my insane getup and collapsed into bed. I know I wanted to hit Peeta Mellark for that comment.

But after that, I know nothing.

I wake the next morning feeling sick to my stomach. I have a headache, my body feels stiff, and I’m still irrationally angry at Peeta. Well, it’s not irrational. It’s perfectly fine to hate him for what he did. And ‘apologising’ on live tv? It was like a sick joke.

I slowly get dressed in comfy pants and a loose, light blue blouse. I tie my hair up in a ponytail, and head for breakfast.

Everyone else is already there, But I ignore them all, pile my plate with as much food as I can, and sit myself down on the floor as far as possible from Peeta.

Effie huffs. “Good morning to you too, young lady.”

I answer by shoving a bread roll into my mouth whole.

“Ugh!” Effie is more than annoyed with me, but when I catch Haymitch’s eye by accident, he has a small smirk playing at his mouth, so I figure it’s not all bad.

“Hey, y/n,” Peeta tries.

I don’t reply, don’t even acknowledge him. I’m still so angry, so hurt from all those months ago. His words from back then mix with the ones from last night in my head, giving me a headache to match my heartbreak.

“You’re not… I’m sorry… I stuffed up… she’s amazing… I don’t want to… she came here with me… you mean nothing to me… not like that, y/n… I love you…”

I squeeze my eyes shut tight, trying to block it all out. All the memories.

It was a dark, depressing day. The weather sucked, but I guess that just meant it matched the rest of District Twelve.

I was heading home after school, and trying to work up my courage to do something I’d wanted to do for years.

I was going to tell Peeta Mellark that I loved him.

Everyone knew where he lived. The bakery was a pretty, inviting little place. The window was always filled with cakes, all decorated by Peeta himself.

I skipped up the front steps, knocking twice quickly on the dark blue painted door.

A woman answered, Peeta’s mother. “Hello.”

“Hi!” I pretended not to notice her quick glance at my less-than-clean dress, or my coal-covered boots and hair. I knew I wasn't as rich as their family. I wasn’t ashamed, but her look made me sad.

“I’m here to see Peeta,” I told her.

“Ah.” She narrowed her eyes at me, then disappeared. I hear hushed voices, but don’t try to listen in on the conversation.

I just stood there and waited. Soon, Peeta appeared in the doorway. “Hey, y/n,” he says uncertainly.

“Hey.” I decided to just say it—get it over with as quickly as possible. “I like you, Peeta. Like, like, like you.”

Peeta blinked at me, stunned. “You… oh.”

I chewed my lip, suddenly feeling like this was a horrible, horrible mistake. I shouldn’t have come. I should’ve just pretended I wasn’t in love with him.

Peeta’s eyes looked conflicted, hurt, despairing. But his words, and his tone, are as hard and cold as ice. “I don’t like you. Not like that, y/n. You… you’re not… anything to me. Just a friend, an acquaintance even. You’re worth nothing to me behind that.”

I physically felt the pain of my heart breaking. I wanted to cry, run, hit something.

“Oh.” I managed. “That’s… that’s cool.” I turned on my heel and ran all the way home.

It’s been over a year since Peeta Mellark broke my heart, and I’ve never gotten over it. Even now, eating my breakfast, knowing we are both probably likely to die in the arena, I still can’t find it in myself to forgive him.

I don’t believe his little stunt last night. It was for the cameras, to make a statement and gain sponsors. He doesn’t love me. He made that pretty damn clear a year ago.

I slam my plate on the ground so hard it cracks in two. A mute, red-haired girl rushes over to help me clean it. I apologise to her, but I can’t stay in this room for a moment longer. I feel trapped, like I can’t breathe.

I find my way to an out of the way part of our complex, sitting against the wall in a little window alcove. I’m overlooking the Capitol central, the citizens milling about in their celebratory days before the Hunger Games.

I feel sick at the sight.

How can they be so enraptured by the horror that is the games? How can they find actual joy and pleasure watching kids die?

“Hey.”

I start, and turn, and see Peeta a few steps away from me.

“Hi,” I say back, a little stiffly.

He gestures at the ground beside me, and I nod. He gently sits down, looking slightly nervous.

“What’s up?” I say dully.

“Uh—nothing much, thanks.”

“What are you doing here?” I have no patience for small talk, especially not now.

Peeta licks his lips and doesn’t meet my eyes. “I actually came to apologise.”

I raise an eyebrow, surprised. “As opposed to your apology earlier?”

Peeta grimaces. “I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. Haymitch made me promise not to—and, I guess I just didn’t stop to think how you’d feel.”

I look away, trying to ignore the sudden lump in my throat. “Yeah, well.”

“I’m also here to tell you the plan,” Peeta adds.

My gaze snaps back to him. “The plan?” I ask incredulously.

He nods. “This… star crossed lovers angle is really good for getting sponsors. It’ll help us gain friends in the Capitol—people who will want to help us.”

“Because it’s my goal in life to be besties with the Capitol,” I say flatly, and Peeta almost cracks a smile.

“If it’ll help to keep you alive, it is your goal.”

I shrug. “Whatever. What’s this plan?”

“Act like we’re in love.”

I stare at him for a second, then realise he’s dead serious. I deflate a little, but I know deep down he has a point. We need sponsors if we want to have any chance at all of winning the Games.

“Okay,” I say finally. “Sure. Let’s do it.”

Training goes for three days, and it mostly sucks. I have zero talents, apparently, except for differentiating deadly plants from safe ones. Oh, I can also tie some knots. Not super helpful. I can’t throw a knife, shoot a bow, lift anything heavier than a couple kilos, or climb ropes very well.

As the third day comes to an end, I feel incredibly useless, and exceptionally hopeless. I’m going to be dead in a day, I can almost feel it.

Peeta actually had a pretty good chance. He’s very strong, and can lift even the heaviest of weights. He’s also a whiz at camouflage and starting fires. All bakery skills, I’ll wager.

As per Haymitch’s instructions, we stick together throughout the training, steering clear of the other tributes. We also touch whenever possible, holding hands, hugging, me letting Peeta touch my hair.

It’s all rather infuriating to me, but if it might help to keep Peeta alive for longer, then whatever. He needs to win. He needs to stay alive and get home to his family.

It’s finally the night before the Games, and to say I was completely terrified would be the absolute truth. I lie awake, goosebumps everywhere. I’m so scared I couldn’t eat anything at dinner, even though I know I should be trying to get up my strength. Who knows how long it might be before I can eat again.

I might be starving in that arena, or dehydrated, or freezing to death. Who knows? Maybe I’ll die right away, in the initial bloodbath.

I sit up in bed, sick of tossing and turning. I climb out, and head out my bedroom door. Surprisingly, it’s not locked. I guess they do have cameras literally everywhere, so they’d know if I was actually trying to escape. Which I’m not. That would be pointless. I’m going to die anyway.

Across the hall is Peeta’s room, and without thinking, I knock on his door. He opens it a second later, and his brow crunches together at the sight of me.

“Y/n?” he asks. “What are you—?”

“Can I come in?” I’m suddenly awkward, realising how weird this is.

Peeta nods quickly. “Yeah, yeah. Come in, please.” He steps aside and lets me pass. His room is indentical to mine.

I walk over to his bed and sit myself down on the silkily sheets. “Can I stay in here tonight?” I ask, not looking at Peeta.

I hear his bed creak beneath me as he sits too. “Yeah, ‘course you can.”

There’s a moment of silence, and then he adds, in a much softer voice, “Anytime.”

I wake up to the sun shining into the room, and for a moment, I forget entirely where I am, and what’s about to happen. I just sink into the pillows and close my eyes.

Then, I remember. The Games are today.

“Hey, you,” a voice says behind me, and I roll over in surprise. Peeta.

“Morning,” I say back, for some reason grateful he’s here. Having a familiar face to wake up to is much nicer than rising alone, facing the Games all by myself.

“Todays the day, huh?” Peeta asks, sitting up and frowning a little.

“Guess so,” I reply, rolling back over to stare at the ceiling. “I don’t want to get up.”

Peeta laughs, and it’s a pretty sound. Too pretty for such an awful day.

There’s a knock on our door, and Effie’s voice filters through: “Het up you two, it’s going to be a big, big, big day!”

“How does she know I'm here?” I ask, sitting up straight.

Peeta shrugs. “The Capitol has a crap ton of cameras, y/n.”

I roll my eyes in annoyance. Do they really need to know every single thing about us, before we die? It’s all so ridiculous I almost have to laugh.

“I’d better go get ready and stuff,” I tell him, sliding out of his bed. “Thanks for letting me stay here last night.”

Peeta looks at me for a second, like he’s going to say something big, but just replies with, “See you in the arena.”

“Good luck.” And I’m gone.

“Ten seconds til launch.”

I take a deep breath, feel Cinna’s reassuring squeeze on my shoulder, and I step into the glass tube that will be taking me up into the arena.

“Bye, Cinna,” I half whisper. “Thank you for everything.”

He gives me a smile, that somehow is genuinely caring. “Good luck, my dear girl.”

Something inside the tube clicks, and it slides shut, locking me into my fate. It begins to slowly rise, and so does my anxiety. I come completely out of the tube, and bright, blazing sunlight temporarily blinds me. When I can see again, my throat squeezes in terror and anticipation. All of us are the same distance apart, standing on little pods that I know we can’t step off of without being blown to the sky.

In the middle of the tribute circle is a metal cornucopia, with various weapons and supplies arranged around it, trying to tempt us. I remember Haymitch’s advice to leave it all alone and just run to the woods.

That’s when I remember Peeta. I glance left, seeing a girl from District Seven, I think, who’s also looking in my direction. Beyond her is a tall, dark boy I’ve never really paid attention to other than to get out of his way. I think his name is Thresh.

I squint, frantically trying to locate Peeta. I finally spot him, the farthest tribute I can see to my right. He’s already got his eyes on me, and is shaking his head. Why? What’s he trying to tell me?

Suddenly, the bell is sounding, and there’s a flash of movement as the tributes all simultaneously leave their pedestals, most heading right for the cornucopia. I freeze, my body not reacting at all. I force myself to move, running in just close enough to snatch up a small blue backpack, and then I sprint in Peeta’s direction. I just manage to catch a glimpse of him disappearing into the woods, so I head that way.

About an hour later, I still haven’t caught up to Peeta, or seen any other tributes. Sounds of the bloodbath behind me have faded away now, and nothing but the occasional animal or bird or wind sounds now echo through the forest.

It would almost be peaceful, if I wasn’t where I was.

Then, out of absolutely nowhere, someone grabs my arm from behind. I let out a scream, and a hand slaps over my mouth. I struggle, but I’m not strong at the best of times.

“Calm down!” It’s Peeta’s voice. “It’s just me, y/n, jeez.”

I twist him off me and whirl to face him. My glare is almost enough to murder him right then and there. “Don’t scare me like that!” I hiss. “You idiot!” I hit him, half out of the fear bubbling inside of me and half out of relief he’s here and alive and with me.

“Sorry, my love,” Peeta replies, cracking a flirtatious smile. “I won’t do it again.”

I narrow my eyes at him, half annoyed and half embarrassed at how much relief is flooding inside of me at this sight of him, alive and well and here.

“Allies?” Peeta asks.

A laugh bubbles up, and surprises both of us. Peeta laughs too, but then shushes me. “Let’s not get killed just yet, okay?” he suggests. “I’d like to hang out with the love of my life first.”

And for some reason, I don’t even disagree.

[octopiys]

Cw: blood/murder, body horror, mentions of catholic guilt

Witch!Johnny who has no idea of what he's doing.

His nights since "Simon" has returned have been restless, dreamless, and he's always woken up feeling.... unfinished. There was was always unease in his chest, buried deep, like the feeling of forgetting something. His days don't go by much easier.

His work is mostly on the computer, and there are sometimes where he must go into the offices, bring Gary some leftovers from the night before, fill out some files, and head on home.

Today, though, is different. He spends his time searching through every record their office had, trying to find any semblance of what he's seen.

Witch!Johnny, who's beginning to think the lack of sleep has made him go insane. Maybe he's making it up. He feels more comfortable gaslighting himself into believing that a storm pushed over the tree in his backyard, than-

NCO!Gary who finds Johnny asleep at his usually empty desk. There were numerous tabs pulled up on his computer, of age old chat forums and supernatural sightings from years ago, blogs that had gone cold. He smirks, shaking his head with the roll of his eyes as he pats Johnny on the back, trying to wake him up.

NCO!Johnny who wakes with a jolt. Gary looks slightly concerned, he must've fallen asleep again. He apologizes, and shuts down his computer. He's just felt so tired recently.

Witch!Johnny, who comes home to Ms. Riley, pacing anxiously on his front step, who's eyes light up when she sees him. She looks tired too.

"Oh, John, thank goodness- Mozzie's run away, and Tommy's coming in tonight, I was gonna ask if you can keep an eye out for him!" She pleads and he agrees, equally worried for Mozzie, short for Mozart, which is short for Mozzarella, who's been the Riley dog as long as he can remember. How the little rat dog escaped bequeaths him, but he promises to double check his wildlife traps tomorrow when he takes the cart around to collect them.

NCO!Johnny who ensured that his traps were practically harmless to the environment, not a doubt in the world that Mozzie had gotten into one of his raccoon cages.

Witch!Johnny who locks his doors twice tonight.

Fae!Simon, who thinks it's rather hot. The weather, that is.

It's a peculiar thought to have when some humans flesh and blood lies mangled beneath him. There was a soft inkling of recognition in the base of his skull, a little tendril that beckoned him to destroy it, and so he did. The heated metal bits that were fired at him had little effect. They could not hurt him now.

They could not hurt him anymore.

What used to be the wriggling mass under him had called him something odd, whispered it like a True Name, and it was. It hit a notch in the tendrils of his heart, and he sprung. This man had wronged him before, and used his true name to do so. Yet, when he said it, it didn't entirely feel like his.

Like something else shared it.

So it must've not been his after all.

He turns, the earth warm beneath his feet as the sun rose high in the sky.

What is a Simon, anyhow?

Witch!Johnny, who dreams tonight. He's a kid again, pouring over his nan's old books while she bakes too salty cookies in the kitchen. He never complained, and she gave him a handful of chocolate chips to munch on while the cookies were in the oven. Simon would be coming over later, and he too, would not complain about the cookies. Johnny would give him a chocolate chip for his bravery.

His Nan bumbles up to him, her chest puffing proudly that the boy is following in her footsteps. "Did ah ev'r tell ya 'boot my lil' Jackie?"

"Yes, Nan," He'd always say in response.

"Aye, but y' dinnae ever listen!" Something sharp lurks beneath her words, like sharp rocks that you take notice of when you finally take the training wheels off of your bike. "When ah was a wee lass, my lil broder, Jackie, was too curious for his own good. Born with caul, too, if ye can believe. Mam would call us in fer dinner, and she'd send me ou' ta find him. He loved the woods, that boy, and the life inside o' it. Real sweet lil' thing, too. Broke his heart anytime Mam squished a bug, and God forbid he stepped on one o' em on his own! I found him, one night, sittin' just inside o' the trees. There were mushrooms all 'round him, like somethin' had died just up under th' roots. An' ah knew then, I think. But ah ran inside and got me Mam, cus he would nae answer when ah called 'im. She came out with th' shears-" She pokes him in the side with a wooden spoon for extra measure, and he giggles, despite the tragedy of the story. "An' cuts up all o' the mushrooms, an' he sits up, and walks back inside."

"What then, nan?" He asks, always too eager for his own good.

"Thought ye said ye heard o' this one?" She teases him, before turning away and continuing. "He was so quiet after tha'. Made me sad, cus he would nae talk aboot anythin'. Like a switch had been triggered. He stepped on a bug he found that night. And another one, after that. His eyes were so cold." She trailed off, sounding almost sad, which seemed impossible to Johnny, because his Nan was never upset. "Me Mam turned him out the next week. Told him that she wanted her boy back. She warded the creature off with those shears up there, an I never saw 'im again." She hums, like this was an everyday occurrence as she gestures to the old sheers hanging in the window.

Witch!Johnny asks, no longer a child. "What was it, Nan?"

His Nan just smiles, before looking down at the book. "Seems like ye found one o' yer own, have ye nae?"

Witch!Johnny who looks down at the old book, where written in ancient ink across the top was the header: Changeling.

Witch!Johnny, who sits up in a cold sweat. His clock read 3:13. Unlucky. Somewhere in his former catholic brain, an alarm bell rang.

The curses of the law lifted by becoming the curse.

Did he still have that book?

He'd found one of his own. He spills out of his bed, racing to his bookshelf.

He blows dust off the cover and flips through it until he's satisfied, eyes settling on the thinning paper. Changelings. Was he right?

Deep-seated unease settles inside of him as he read, mentally ticking off boxes.

For it is written.

Pointed teeth. Cold eyes. Personality change. Precious, precious, precious. Did he play any instruments? No. Not Simon. He barely talked anymore. Barely ate, that he knew of.

Changeling, changeling, changeling.

The man that lives down the street, who came back rugged from war. The man who was not the person he grew up with. The Simon who came back. He should've known. Oh, his grandma must be turning in her grave right now, or laughing at his stupidity. He drops the book, hands shaking.

The Ghost that replaced Simon Riley was a Changeling.

Cursed is everyone who hangs in the trees.

Last part | Next part

Inspired by Meet Me In The Woods by Lord Huron

Taglist: @whorangi1104 @impossible-to-pronounce @the-only-universe-here

(If your blog is here but the tag doesn't work, there's a good chance your blog is accidentally hidden! Lmk if that's the case :) )

Any questions? My ask box is open!! <3

[darkeunology]

♡ Touches ♡

Word Count: 1804

Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Talks of dying, combat

Summary: You and Astarion only ever touched each other when close to death, maybe sometimes you need to be touched to live too

Not Requested

Not Proof Read

I'm only on Act 2 of the game so this has no spoilers for midway Act 2 onwards

Never in your wildest dreams would you have ever been able to predict all that had happened to you in the last few days. From being on the Nautiloid ship and having a Mind Flayer tadpole forced into your eye - something that still makes you shiver in disgust anytime you think about it - to raiding the Goblin camp so the Tieflings finding refuge at the Emerald Grove can finally make their way out and helping every one of your companions with their memories and the help they need with other matters. As strange as these past few days have been, you wouldn’t have changed it for the world, you were having the adventure of your life with people you were getting closer with by the day. 

One person you were getting a little closer with than the others was Astarion, I mean how could you not. It had been a few nights since you were woken up by a strange feeling you had in your gut, the feeling of someone being too close next to you - opening your eyes to the sight of Asterion above your neck, fangs nearly biting you, 

“Shit.” He spoke sheepishly, backing away from you, hastily standing up as you did too. “No, no. It’s not what it looks like, I swear.” he almost pleaded, hoping to convince you as you raised your eyebrow at him, looking at him in disbelief. “I wasn’t going to hurt you, I just needed… Well… Blood.” 

The dim firelight illuminated Astarion where he stood, you scrutinised his features, something you hadn’t really had the time or need to do before. When you think about it now, you’re amazed it took so long to realise, the unnatural blood red eyes that would pierce you everytime he looked at you, the way his lips bared his teeth, two large fangs being prominent in his smile, he was a vampire. 

“I can’t believe I didn’t see it.” You started, shaking your head in shock, you recalled what had happened earlier that morning, the boar you’d found laying on the floor, you’d asked Astarion about it, him telling you that something had obviously bitten it and taken it’s blood, “We even found the boar you snacked on.” 

“It’s not what you think,” he rushed to say, “I’m not some monster.” he spoke more delicately now, as if the word ‘Monster’ was something he had carved on him. “I feed on animals. Boars, Deer, Kobolds - whatever i can get. I’m just too slow right now. Too weak. If I just had a little blood, I could think clearer. Fight better. Please.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You asked, not actually that hurt that he didn’t tell you. 

“At best, I was sure you’d say no. More likely you’d ram a stake through my ribs. No. I needed you to trust me.” He moved slightly closer to you, still keeping enough distance that you wouldn’t feel threatened, “And you can trust me.” he finished, his voice becoming more sultry as he spoke, almost trying to seduce you into letting him bite you. 

“I do. I believe you.” you spoke gently, trying to not wake any of your other companions up, frankly you were amazed they hadn’t woken up yet. 

Astarion looked relieved at your words,”Thank you. Do you think you could trust me just a little further?” He asked, his voice still seductive, “I only need a taste, I swear.” 

“Fine, but not a drop more than you need.” you confirmed, not quite sure why you were actually going to let someone drink your blood. Maybe it was because his voice was doing something to you, maybe it was just because you needed Astarion to be at his best for any fights you were undoubtedly going to encounter tomorrow.  

He smirked at your answer, “Let’s get comfy then shall we?” He extended his hand towards your bedroll on the floor, signalling for you to lie back down, his body coming down on top of yours, his hand brushing some stray hair out of the way, brushing it behind your ear. Your eyes widened slightly as you felt his teeth sink into your skin, the pain burning initially before it sinks into a feeling of numbness, your bodies connecting through this moment together. It doesn’t take long until you're using your strength to push him away from you, deciding that he’d had enough. He kneels down next to you, his breath heavy, “Ah, that - that was amazing.” He smiled menacingly, standing up as he spoke, taking a few steps away from you again, “My mind is finally clear. I feel strong. I feel…Happy.” he smirked, his eyes travelling over your body.

“I’m looking forward to seeing you fight.” you spoke, remembering the reason you even allowed him to bite you in the first place, hoping that this would’ve been worth it. 

“Shouldn’t take long. So many people need killing.” Astarion smirked. “Now if you’ll excuse me, you’re invigorating, but I need something more filling.” He turned his back to you, about to walk off but giving one last comment over his shoulder to you, “This is a gift, you know. I won’t forget it.” He puts his focus back on the forest, stalking to it, much more confident as he goes to find more prey, leaving you to settle down back to bed and wonder what the hells just happened. 

Somehow the relationship between the two of you wasn’t fractured at all after this incident, in fact you’d somehow gotten stronger, allowing him to take a bit from you on certain nights, when you knew he was probably desperate for some strength and he took every moment of it, relishing in the taste of your blood that coated his lips, feeling the strength rejoin his body. 

However, there was something different between the two of you than what you had with almost everyone else in the camp. As time went on, Astarion became the person you weren’t necessarily as close to. As much as you were still friends and he would still throw you the odd flirty comment every so often - you had touched everyone else in the camp, you’d fixed Karlach’s heat issue so you could hug her now, doing so whenever she’d ask you to, knowing how much she’d missed being able to be touched. You’d danced with Wyll multiple times, him teaching you everything he knew. You’d had Gail teaching you how to do some magic. All three of them telling you plenty about their old lives. 

But you and Astarion, whilst he’d told you parts about Cazador, about his past. The two of you had only ever touched when it was necessary. When you’d be helping the other up after a particularly rough patch of combat or patching each other up at camp if any of the magic wielders were unable to heal you guys through a spell. You’d only ever touched each other when you were close to death, never touching for any other reason than necessity. 

Sleepless nights would often plague you through the Shadow-Cursed Lands, there was just something about this place that would not allow you to sleep most of the nights. During these nights, your thoughts would often stray to Astarion, and the things he had told you. You wanted nothing more than to be able to help him with everything he was going through, but you would also often wonder why you two were nowhere near as close as you were to everyone else. Maybe it was because of that night, when he was going to drink your blood without even telling you first - you often wondered how you would have woken up when it was far too late, with his fangs already piercing you, and you wonder if he would’ve actually stopped or if he would’ve drunk enough to kill you - or maybe it was just simply just because you had different feelings for Astarion than you did for Wyll for example. You couldn’t quite put your finger on what these feelings were, but you knew there was something different between you. 

Your feelings were confronted one night, after a bad fight had happened only a few hours before at the Last Light Inn, your life nearly being lost to it. Whilst you were used to nearly dying in these fights, this one for some reason hit you harder. Shadowheart had healed you almost fully when you got back to camp, but something still felt wrong as you laid down on your bedroll, tears coming to your eyes before you stubbornly blinked them away, not allowing yourself to cry when all your companions were nearby. 

“Stupid question, but are you okay?” Your eyes snapped open, Astarion standing above you, a sympathetic look on his face, he still hadn’t cleaned the blood off his face which reminded you that you hadn’t either, your face feeling stiff from the blood drying on it. 

Sitting up, you responded to him, “No.” A small sob escaped you as you spoke, causing your cheeks to heat up in embarrassment. “I didn’t want to cry in front of any of you.” you chuckled sadly, wiping your eyes. “I don’t know why this has hit me so hard. It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve nearly died.” you were confused as to why you felt like this. 

“You’re scared.” Astarion spoke, sitting down in front of you, a bowl of water now in front of him, a rag in his hand, “May I?” He asked gently, signalling to the blood on your face, 

“Please,” you whispered, your eyes scanning his face as he concentrated on getting the blood off you, being just aggressive enough to get the dried blood off but not too aggressive to hurt you any further. 

“I get scared all the time. Everytime we come back to camp after a bad fight.” he spoke gently as he cleaned you up, “All of us do. That’s what makes us human…” he paused, smirking playfully, “Well, that’s what makes all of you human.” You chuckled lightly. “Come on, let’s go to bed. It’s been a long day.” 

Astarion gently pushed you down so you were laying, he moved himself next to you. Your body tensed up for a second as you touched, his body tucking in tightly behind yours, the first time the two of you had properly touched each other. “Relax. I’m right here.” He whispered, laying a lingering kiss below your ear. You drifted away to the sound of Asterion’s breath in your ear, the comforting sound of someone being with you, holding you, keeping the monsters away for the night. 

It was strange to touch each other without one of them dying, but maybe touch was also something for the living.

[squiiv]

don't forget to kiss me!

..or else you'll have to miss me!

—    pavitr prabhakar x gn!reader

*reader knows that pav is spiderman

somewhat based off of ‘glue song’ by the one and only beabadoobee!

!!NOT PROOFREAD!!

☆ …

𒁷 sfw! 

𒁷 cw// a ton of smooching, clinginess, cheesy, pav is a little cutie patootie i love him :(

♥ waking up first thing in the morning to see your boyfriend peacefully sleeping, wrapped in your arms, clinging on to you as if he’ll lose you if he even dares to let go.

♥ you attempt to sit up, only to be brought closer (you're not even sure how it was possible to be even closer than you already were) to your boyfriend..he just can't let you go!

♥ after 20 long minutes, you've decided you should definitely get out of bed now, the two of you had already laid like this together for a long while..he won't mind, right?

♥ you were wrong. when you told your lovely, charming..boyfriend..that you needed to get up, this news only upset him.

“pav…. i really need to get up now.” you sighed, still holding on tightly to his figure. his eyes were still half closed, his long eyelashes batting against his face once he blinked to look up at your face, only to be met with a frown. once the words fully registered in his head, he pouts, “but..you promised you would stay in with me today..you wouldn't want to disappoint the spiderman, would you..?” 

you laugh softly at his words, you really didn't want to leave him, but some unexpected business came up. you began running your fingers through his hair, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “i know, i know. i don't want to leave you..but i'll be back so, so soon. you won't even notice i'm gone.” he pulls you in even closer, burying his head back into your chest. “can't you just do it later..? you're so warm..i could sleep here forever if it meant i would get to stay in your arms.” 

“...really?” you sigh, not denying the words he said did sound nice. you wish you could stay here forever with him, separated from the hectic lives you both lived. “i'm serious..! if i could stay here with you forever, i would be the happiest man alive..” you blush at his words, he always makes being forward seem so..easy. “i…i'm sorry, my love. i wish i could stay, i really do.” 

“..it's fine. i'll let you leave, if you promise me something..!” you're met with a disappointed look on pav’s face, and it only makes you feel even worse for leaving him like this. “oh, don't be sad..please. i promise, i'll do anything you wish, okay?” 

you start pressing soft kisses all over his face, starting with his forehead, down to his cheeks, and finally placing one on his lips. you continue peppering his face with soft, love-filled kisses, as you cup his cheeks with your hands. once you pull away, you finally see the blush covering his full face.

“my love, my darling..there isn't a single moment of us being apart from each other where i don't think about you and when i'll see you again..you brighten up my world, you lighten my every day.” he seems taken aback at your words, eyes widening ever so slightly. he then smiles, cupping your cheek in his hand while pressing a soft, gentle kiss to your lips as well.

“i love you so, so much my dear…i'm so glad i get to start and end every single day with you in my arms..i couldn't be happier.” he smiles, genuine love in his gaze as he makes eye contact with you. “now…promise me that tomorrow, we can stay here together all day in each other's arms..please?” he pleads, earning a soft grin from you.

“of course. nothing would make me happier than to spend my day wrapped up like this with you. i promise, when i get home later i’ll be back with presents in hand for you, alright?” you chuckle, pressing one last kiss to his forehead.

“i'll be waiting for you here…my love.”

this was my first fic btw, so i hope it's somewhat decent..😭 idk if i'll start posting on here or not! this was just a little test and i've been thinking about pav non stop lol ^_^ please remember he is a MINOR so i will not be posting anything nsfw. if i do end up posting on here my works will mostly be sfw!! i hope u enjoyed :)

P.S: ik in the description i said it was based off of glue song but it kinda isn't. i started writing this with the idea of that but i ended up forgetting about it.

[kitthepurplepotato]

Chapter 6 - The man in Inko’s house.

Summary: Izuku want to see his mom but he finds another man in her house instead. Also, Izuku forgets to wear a shirt to sleep.

Warnings: Izuku in his underwear, no actual suggestive content this time but there are some suggestive thoughts in there (obviously😂), swear words

First Chapter Master List

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

“Tadaima.” Izuku mutters into your ear while he gives you a tight hug. He just came home from his last shift for the week. He’s yours for two whole days from now on, and it feels like a dream.

“I missed you.” You mutter back, your face flushed from the excitement. “I can’t wait to wake up next to you and cuddle. Then I wanna use the hot tub together…”

“Uhm, about that…” Izuku scratches the back of his head sheepishly. Oh no.

“If you tell me you are working tomorrow I swear to god I’ll cry.” You retort angrily, your arms snaking around Izuku’s middle possessively. By the look of it, Izuku really likes your new possessive side; his eyes darken as he buries his fingers in your hair, scratching your scalp to soothe your sudden anger.

“Definitely not, but… can we go to see Mom? I really miss her. Then the day after that we can… uhm… have the full day for ourselves. Just you and me. And All Meowt. And the hot tub.” Izuku’s face is slightly flushed as he says the last sentence but you can feel his excitement when his eyes shine in that adorable way it usually does when he talks about his favorite things and current obsessions, like that new new anime about the most popular girl falling in love with a random nerd. He’s absolutely obsessed with that shit, bless his little romantic ass. “I also want to formally introduce you to her. As my… my… girlfriend…” Izuku smiles shyly, his voice full of giddiness.

“Hmm…” You try to tease him, but his puppy eyes are too powerful. You have no idea how can he make such an adorable face and how can he still have baby fat on his face at his age. You can’t help yourself; you touch the soft skin, slowly stroking up and down then back up until you reach his freckles, connecting the dots with your finger, taking in the sight of them as counting them would be impossible. “Have I told you how much I adore your cheeks?” You mutter as you leave a tiny kiss on the most freckled part of his skin. “And your eyes… you are so handsome, I can’t say no to this face.”

“Says the most beautiful girl with the sweetest smile.” Izuku mumbles with his eyes downcast which makes him look like a shy school boy confessing to his first love and it’s the cutest fucking thing the world has ever seen.

Okay, this needs to stop. It’s literally past midnight and Izuku haven’t showered yet.

FOCUS.

“I’ll wait for you in bed.” You leave one tiny kiss on the greenette’s cheek and sneak out of the embrace, your steps quick as you walk towards the bedroom; you can hear Katsuki yelling “just fuck already”, loud and clear in your head but while you would absolutely love to finally have him to yourself, it’s kinda fun to tiptoe around each other; there is something about Izuku’s shyness, about the way all his touches scream innocence that makes your heart flutter and you are honestly not ready to say goodbye to that.

It doesn’t take Izuku too long to snuggle up to your back as he always does but the first thing you realize is that… he’s still kind of wet. Not too much, just the way the person skin’s feels like when they get out of the shower… wait.

Skin. Your naked shoulders are touching skin. Izuku senses how your shoulders tense and moves away from you; you murmur a silent “fuck” under your nose for being so weird about the situation, but hell, give the girl a warning, will ya?!

“Sorry, I forgot to bring a shirt with me and I’m too tired to get one but if it makes you uncomfortable…”

You hate the hesitation in Izuku’s voice.

“No, I was just surprised, it’s fine. Come back, I’m cold.” You turn to your other side, snuggling into the man’s pecks, silently thanking all the gods that it’s dark as your face is probably more red than a lobster’s. Your heart skips a beat as Izuku pulls your closer, his body flush against yours; your pajama top rode up in the motion so there is so much skin-to-skin right now your brain is about to combust. You can feel his abs through your belly; they are hard and sturdy but the skin is really soft, much softer than you’ve expected it to be; he doesn’t get many scars around that area thanks to the reinforced bullet and shockproof vest he wears under his hero costume. You have a really strong urge to feel it with your fingers, find every dip, every crevice until you remember them all even with your eyes closed but Izuku had a hard week and he’s probably tired to the bone so you decide to hide your face in his neck instead, snuggling into his warmth until you become a putty in each other’s arms.

“We should do this more often.” You murmur into his neck; you can feel him shivering as your hot breath licks his skin.

“Sweet Pea, I won’t be able to sleep if you keep doing that.” Izuku mutters shyly, his words followed by a pleased sigh.

“You haven’t slept for a week Izu, I’m quite sure you’ll manage.” You giggle but you roll back to your original position to let him have his peace tonight. Izuku doesn’t wait long before he pulls you back to him; after a few seconds his breathing evens out and he’s out like a light.

He must’ve been even more exhausted than I thought - you think to yourself as you slowly follow him to dreamland, his warmth seeping into your bones through your light pajama top.

~•🥦•~

Things you are not ready for at 9 in the morning:

- Izuku’s absolutely beautiful sleeping face.

- Izuku’s washboard abs glistering in the sunlight as he somehow manages to kick the covers off himself.

- Izuku still in bed, at 9AM. End of sentence.

Oh, and how can you forget the most important thing….

- The top of Izuku’s broccoli tattoo sticking out of his tight boxers as his gorgeous abs glisten in the sunlight at 9AM on a Saturday morning.

Izuku’s nose scrunches adorably as though somehow, he’s able to feel your eyes on him; he shifts to a new position and sighs contentedly, his hand reaching out to find you in his sleep; you sat down during your inner monologue so the only thing he could find was your upper thigh. He grabs the warm limb anyway, his face scrunched up in concentration as he’s trying to figure out what is he touching. You are half embarrassed and half amused, a tiny giggle leaves your mouth as Izuku tickles you by accident. His hand wonders around again, this time to your inner thigh and that’s when you whimper; Izuku opens his eyes to see what’s wrong and he pulls back his hand right away like your skin just burned him.

“Uhm… good… morning.” Izuku mutters, his face hidden in the pillow. Somehow, it sounded like an apology but you are glad he didn’t actually apologize; he has no reason to do so and you really want him to get to a point one day when he doesn’t feel the urge to say sorry for doing things he enjoys to do. For instance, every time his kisses get a bit rough, he apologizes, like it’s not the most normal thing in the world to get a bit unhinged while you kiss your loved one. He also says sorry when he accidentally touches the side of your… well… bosom. Or your bottom.

Okay, you can kinda understand the last two as you two haven’t really done anything too cheeky yet and Izuku wants to make sure he has your consent before doing any of that, but you would be happier if he would just ask you if he can instead of running away like a 30 year old virgin every time his finger touches a bouncy area.

Okay, how did you end up thinking about that?

Ahh, probably from the sight of his own, juicy ass in those tight black boxers.

… focus, woman.

“Really good morning indeed.” You look at Izuku’s god-like, half naked body; damn, those back muscles are (also) something else. You can’t wait to be able to ask about every single scar covering his body; there is a lot, some of them massive and brownish red - probably old burn marks while some of them are long, white and thin, almost elegant compared to the violent claw marks on his side. Some people might be put off by all the damaged skin, but honestly, they just make Izuku even more handsome in your eyes; they are the proof that Deku is a hero, a proof that he would do anything to save the innocent, to protect his city and it’s people. His back is like an abstract painting sitting in a museum; some people look at it and think “this makes no sense” but those who understand get teary eyed from all the emotions, of all the stories hidden behind the random lines of the canvas.

“Let’s… uhm… get ready. Yeah.” Izuku shuffles off the bed with a red face and you can’t help but giggle at Izuku’s awkwardness.

~•🥦•~

“So… this is it.” Izuku parks in front of a small, adorable house, right next to a small forest. You lived in Tokyo for god knows how long yet you didn’t know there was a place like this in the area; well, it’s quite far from the center to be fair and you never really felt the urge to sit on the train and go around the main city, so it makes a lot of sense. “It’s a small house, but mom didn’t want a bigger one. She said it would be too empty without me.” Izuku sighs, still affected by his mother’s bittersweet words. He’s such a mama’s boy!

“That’s so sweet.” You mutter, a little bit anxious about being here; you know there is no need for you to be stressed about today but it’s still a big step in your relationship, so of course it will affect you.

“Come on, mom will be so happy to see us!” He grabs your hand and pulls you towards the entrance, fingers intertwined as he opens the door and barges in without a single knock.

Well… Izuku clearly forgot to tell his mother that he’s coming over.

How do you know that? Because there is another man in her house. The man’s hair is blonde and messy, body skinny and fragile, a little bit unhealthy from the distance but there is a slight, healthy blush on his face which tells you he’s probably fine. His face is really kind and he was cleaning the leaves of a massive money plant when you two barged in so he’s clearly not a weirdo which makes you extremely happy because you would definitely have a few words with him otherwise. No one plays around with the innocent, naive Inko. No one.

The man looks extremely surprised first but then his face changes into a happy grin as he looks Izuku up and down with a proud smile.

“Midoriya-shounen!” The older man hops over to you two and hugs Izuku tightly. That nickname rings a bell.

“All Might!”

Wait.

Okay, wait.

No fucking way.

“All Might?!” You mutter incredulously. The blond man just smiles at you awkwardly like he’s a little bit ashamed of being outed this way but wants to make a good first impression anyway. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to be rude or anything…”

“It’s all fine, my darling. Everyone reacts like that. You must be the famous Sweet Pea, I’m so happy to finally meet you in person.”

All Might has the kindest smile. It literally brings sunshine into the already bright house.

“Izuku, All Might is in your mom’s house!” You mutter under your nose while you ignore the world around you for a few minutes; it’s extremely hard not to freak out over the fact that you’ve just met Japan’s biggest hero - you are a nerd after all.

“Oh, yeah, why are you in mom’s house?” It seems like Izuku didn’t even realize he’s not supposed be here in the first place, he was so excited to meet his father figure again. He’s so fucking precious.

“Oh, well… my mansion was a bit too empty for the little old me, so I… moved here?”

Izuku almost chokes on her saliva while you can’t stop gawking at the blond man in front of you.

Well… that’s… an interesting plot twist.

“You are my mom’s roommate?!” Izuku yelps and you can’t help but sigh at that.

Two middle aged people sharing a house as “roommates”? You’ve never heard such a bullshit. Is Inko dating All Might?! Is that why she kept this a secret from his son even though they talk on the phone every week for literal hours?

“Inko wanted it to be a surprise, so… surprise?” All Might still talks to Izuku like he’s 15, making over-exaggerated facial expressions and you can see on Izuku’s face that he’s back to being a young boy, shy and nerdy, craving the love of a father he never had.

The whole situation might be considered weird from an outsider perspective but somehow… it just works. This family is special; they love with their whole heart, platonic or not and Inko letting his son’s role model to live in her house so he doesn’t get too lonely is such a Midoriya-thing to do that you are not even that surprised.

“I’m really happy.” Izuku mutters, tears welling up in his eyes as he hugs the thin man again. “I’m really happy, dad.”

“My boy…”

Aaaand… everyone is crying.

If this would be a fanfiction, this would be the perfect time to end this chapter as the emotions are so strong, the reader probably needs to take a breather.

“To be continued.” You giggle to yourself as you look around the house to find the missing piece; Inko, who’s hiding behind the bathroom door, crying a river as she takes the beautiful sight in front of her.

… Next Chapter!

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Potato ramble:

- Bro I have a confession to make: I ship All Might and Inko more than I ship anyone else in this anime. I have no idea why.

- I went to a garden center and bought a plant plushie. It reminded me of the first few chapters of this story when Deku was proud of not killing a plant, but the plant was fake so I named him Deku. 😂

- Some bad news for next week: I’m taking a break for 1 week. Life has been a bit hectic around me; I went back to full-time after being a part timer for a year due to mental health issues (it’s really not as bad as it sounds I swear.), Christmas in retail sucks and it sucks even more when you work in the busiest store in the area and I also got some worrisome news from my doctor which triggered my old anxiety and I kinda need some time to sort my shit out. I already know I won’t have time to write both of my series this week and I don’t want to ruin my upcoming birthday by forcing myself to edit and write that day, but that’s the only day I’m at home this week. So yeah, I’ll be back in two weeks! Maybe even sooner, we will see how it goes.

- Have a lovely week, guys! 💜 Tell me your thoughts! 🥦

TL:  @sixxze @mily-moo @aei-sedai-moiraine @aymasakusa @kastuari @kenzie-deadly @shiviwrites07 @lukerycyja-reblogs @cloroxisadelectabletreat @coffeent @kisskissshutmydoor @bobcar1 @yazminetrahan @cringefan @ronimacaroni77 @thekookiecorner @dangerousluv1 @emperatris-rinaka @shotos-angelic-whore @angelsdemonsmonsters @norvacaine @rei165 @unofficialmuilover @yao-ai @garfieldthomas @porusuniverse @stickygumchewer

[oddinary4bts]

The Forgotten Spaces | ch 9 (jjk)

☆summary: you've been dancing on the same dance crew since your teenage years, and you finally have an important role in it. It feels like life is taunting you when your rival comes back after disappearing for a year, ready to tease you every chance he gets. Will the teasing turn into more, or are you going to take him down with you?

☆pairing: photographer and dancer!Jungkook x dancer!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, there is mature content in previous/later chapters)

☆genre: slow (SLOW) burn enemies to lovers, college!au, slice of life!au, angst (oop), smut and fluff

☆warnings: ending of that lil bit of miscommunication in ch 8, a very heartfelt conversation, probably some curses

☆word count: 7k

☆series masterpost here

☆a/n: Finallyyyyy, the angst is ending my friends. I hope you'll enjoy it <3 and also thank you to @moonleeai for her beta reading on this fic, I won't ever thank you enough, you're the best <3

☆Read What Was Hidden here, the fic that inspired this whole story, written by @daechwitatamic, one of my fav human beings on this app <3 It follows the story of Jo and Taehyung before The Forgotten Spaces

☆☆☆☆☆

For this meeting of our end of the world

It's with you that I want to sing

On the threshold of the memories the dead of today

Them that breathe for us

The forgotten spaces

Je t'écris - Gaston Miron (rough translation by me)

☆☆☆☆☆

Tuesday, September 25th

                You wake up slowly at first. Like a feather, softly falling, unbothered by the weight of the universe. It’s calm, like a forest in the winter when it’s snowing. It’s peace personified, like the world never held any wars or pain.

Then you wake all at once, like you’re struck by lightning, energized by it, electricity coursing through your blood. You feel his presence before you see him, and you think you’d be mad at him for lying next to you.

But when your eyelids flutter open to the sight of his purple room, all that fills you is peace again.

It grows tenfold when you turn and see him lying next to you, on his belly, hand reaching towards you. His mouth is slightly open, and he’s lying on top of the covers.

Which means he never meant to fall asleep next to you.

You haven’t realized how long his hair has grown before. Because right now it’s falling in front of his eyes, and you want to brush it behind his ear. It’s a visceral need, and the peace grows once more.

It grows and grows, and you reach and push his hair back, softly. Fingertips grazing his cheek, staying there as if they’ve found a home. He closes his mouth in his sleep and sighs, but he doesn’t wake up. He returns to his soft snoring a second later, and you just run your fingers along his cheekbone, tracing the planes of his face ever so softly.

But tomorrow has come, or is coming soon. And the peace grows again, until it bursts.

Until it bursts and aches, choking you up. Your hand rests heavier on his cheek as tears blur your vision, and the explosion of peace crushes your heart, until a sob finds its way up.

You choke on the sob, and quickly sit to move away from Jungkook. In this moment, all you can think is that he’s hers. Your brain produces the words like a litany in your mind, and you think it’s making you crazy.

You were crazy to come here in the first place. To think you deserved a spot at Jungkook’s side.

You grab your phone, and see that it’s the middle of the night. You don’t care one bit, and you call Jisung. Not Jiho, because Jiho doesn’t know how to drive, and she also has a midterm tomorrow morning.

Jisung doesn’t pick up, and you choke on another sob as you call again. This time, the call goes on voicemail quicker than it’s supposed to, and you receive a text a second later.

[4:46 am] Sungie: you better have a good reason for waking me up in the middle of the night🙄 [4:46 am] Sungie: what’s up? [4:47 am] You: can u come pick me up? [4:47 am] Sungie: what’s wrong [4:48 am] You: it’s complicated. mom kicked me out, and i’m at jk’s place [4:48 am] Sungie: wtf? [4:48 am] Sungie: i don’t wanna go outside😭 and i’ll kill your mom, but what’s new. [4:49 am] Sungie: omw

You sigh a breath of relief, but it breaks on your lips and you cry out, as the tears and the pain win once again, as they’ve been winning all evening.

You get up, you take a few steps, you stumble on something and catch yourself on the wall. You feel like you’re going to be sick, you’re tired, exhausted, and you wish for your bed.

But you don’t have a home anymore, do you?

Jungkook says your name. He says your name like you’re a prayer, and you break some more, refusing to even turn to look at him. You just stumble to your bags, pick them up and try to reach for the door.

Jungkook stops you with a gentle hand on your wrist.

He repeats your name, and you refuse to look at him. This time, when he tries to pull you in, you resist. You don’t want him to touch you, you don’t want him to hold you when you know it’s all just a lie. When you know tomorrow will come and he’ll be gone.

He’s forgotten you. He’s forgotten you too, he’s forgotten the pain he brings. And you think, if the world was ending, would he stand on the threshold of your memories together with you? Because you think you got lost in the memories, you forgot memories come and go.

“Let me go,” you beg, weakly, because you’re weak. Like you’ve been sick, and you think you might be. Maybe your broken heart festered inside of you, releasing toxins into your bloodstream until it rendered you sick.

“Please tell me what’s wrong,” he says in an equally weak voice, but he does let go of you.

You scoff, and you don’t say anything before turning the doorknob and opening the door.

“I’m sorry that I fell asleep next to you,” Jungkook says, and he sounds like he’s panicking. Like he doesn’t want you to slip through his fingers. But the tighter he holds you, the more you slip. You’re like sand: immortal in the way you’ll always slip through his fingers, like he’ll always slip through yours.

“It’s not that.” You drop one of the bags, because your wrist hurts almost equally as your heart. “Jungkook, you have a girlfriend, we shouldn’t be together.”

You eye your bag, deciding that it’s not worth trying to pick it up. You’ll ask Jo to bring it to you wherever you’ll find a home for the next few days. You’re walking away, striding away, running away.

You’re fleeing like he fled that night he told you about her. Part of you wishes you could rush to your mother’s side, could show her your broken heart and beg her for the love she is supposed to give you. Unfortunately, her maternal affection ran low far too long ago.

But Jisung is coming. That’s all that matters.

You’re at the top of the stairs when Jungkook speaks next. “I broke up with Laura.”

You still. As much as you were breaking a second ago, your heart just stops shattering. Just stops existing altogether for a moment.

“What?”

“I broke up with her Sunday morning.”

You turn to look at him. He’s barely visible in the purple light that escapes his room, and you can’t see his features. But you feel the weight of his gaze on you.

“What?”

“I’m not with her anymore. I wanted to talk to you about it tomorrow only, because I found you already vulnerable earlier.” He pauses. “That’s why I went to the studio in the first place.”

“Jungkook…”

You wonder if he’s breaking in time with you. You wonder if he too was vulnerable tonight, and if that’s the reason why he’s cried so much.

Did he care for her enough to ache from your presence?

“I didn’t want you to think I was taking advantage of you by telling you while you were vulnerable.”

You understand why he chose to do it that way. But you still hate him for it.

“You’re an idiot.”

“I know.”

“You’re a fucking idiot, Jeon Jungkook.”

You think he might be smiling. He does sound like he’s smiling when he speaks next. “Can I hug you?”

“I hate you.”

He laughs, and it breaks, and you only then realize that he wasn’t smiling. He’s crying, and he wipes a hand on his face.

“Don’t…” you trail off, and then you both startle as Jin appears in the doorframe to his room.

“Can you guys please shut the fuck up, it’s the middle of the night.”

You snort. It sounds like a pig, or maybe a hog or a boar. You actually have no idea what it sounds like, just that it’s hysteric, as is the laughter that erupts from you and Jungkook quite at the same time.

Jin just watches the both of you as if you’re crazy, and you are. You’ve suffered so much you’ve gone crazy, and you don’t even care.

You laugh longer than Jungkook, shedding tears that you dry mindlessly with your thumb. Tears heavy with emotions, different emotions than the ones that you’ve been feeling for weeks.

Indeed, hope has cracked some part of the pain, like a sunrise that shines through a veil of thick clouds, sunrays stubbornly refusing to be stopped by the bleariness.

You laugh for all the breaking that you did, and it’s no wonder Jungkook eventually moves to grab your hand and pull you back into his room. Only then do you stop laughing, and you say, “Jisung is coming to pick me up.”

That showers the both of you until you’ve calmed down, enough to be able to glance at Jin that’s still watching with the most disgusted expression on his features. When the two of you find him on his doorstep, Jin figures it’s better to dip, and he goes in, shutting the door softly behind him.

You think you see him winking at Jungkook before he disappears from view.

“Okay,” Jungkook lets out. “That’s okay, let me grab your bag.”

“You’re not angry?”

He shakes his head no in the faint light of the hallway, glancing at you as he grabs the bag you left near his door. “No. I understand that you need some space. And we’ll talk tomorrow, right?”

You nod. You nod because you’re done breaking. “I’ll call you first thing in the morning.” And then you feel infinitely stupid, because he’s blocked your number months ago.

Jungkook has probably thought about the same thing, because as he’s walking back towards you, he says, “I’m sorry I blocked you.”

You raise your hand, the one whose wrist is in a brace. “We’ll talk tomorrow. Just unblock me.”

“I…” he trails off. “I don’t know how to.”

You shut your eyes. “You’re annoying.”

“I’ll figure it out”, he promises. “I’ll figure it out and I’ll be the one calling you.”

You nod, and you look at him. “I… might be angry at you.”

“I deserve it.” He grabs the bag you’re holding, and then motions to the stairs. “You can punch me if you want, but we should go downstairs before Jin kills me.”

“Please do!”

You both laugh once again, and you think you hear a feminine voice scolding Jin.

You follow Jungkook downstairs, shining light with your phone so you don’t fall. Jungkook leads you right to the hall, and he puts your bags down by the door. He then leans down to massage his knee, and you wonder if pain has licked its fingers up his thigh the way it’s been licking its fingers up your arm.

But not in your heart. Your heart is done aching.

You glance outside, and you see that Jisung is already there. He must have been at Felix’s place. Jungkook notices too as he stretches, and you think you see disappointment on his features.

“Do you want me to carry the bags to the car?” he asks, gently.

You reach out between you, hand moving up until it’s cupped his cheek. He looks startled, eyes going round and looking between your two pupils a couple of times.

“I’m sorry I woke you up”, you say as you let your hand fall, because you have no idea why you did that in the first place.

“No, don’t be,” he reassures you. “I’m glad I woke up and could reassure you. I don’t like misunderstandings.”

You think he’s a little full of shit for saying so, because you wouldn’t have been in this position if he listened to you in July. But you refrain from telling him, because you’re going to talk to him tomorrow, and tomorrow only. When you’ll both be ready.

Tonight, you’re still going to cling to the fact that he cares.

He cares, and he hasn’t forgotten about you, or about the July night sky. No, he too still can see the stars that night.

And suddenly, you don’t fear tomorrow anymore.

*****

                Felix’s apartment is cozy in the morning light. But the absence of curtains in the living room windows has made it hard to sleep. You’re lucky you don’t have a class today. You usually do, a three-hour long class at 8 am, but the professor gave you a week off before the midterm next week. He’s still available for office hours, but you’ve had him before in another class. You know he’s not a strict grader. So you’re not going to make it to office hours, and you’ll try to catch up on more sleep before Felix and Jisung wake up.

It’s hard to fall back asleep though. Indeed, your thoughts have been clouded with Jungkook. With the anxiety that you can finally talk to him now, that he’s not hers, but that you don’t even know if you have something to tell him.

He was soft yesterday. Willing to help, wearing his heart on his sleeve the way you reckon he did it that July weekend. It reminds you that Jungkook has a heart of gold. It took you years before you saw it, but now it’s blinding you.

Jungkook would go to the ends of the Earth to help the people he cares about. And he cares about you. You, with the flaws that make the mosaic of you. You, who’s never been able to love, and now you think maybe you’ve loved all along.

Because what was that hate for him, if not misguided love? Immature feelings, maybe. Though you wouldn’t call it love. You wouldn’t dare say you love Jungkook. But you do feel for him. You feel for him the way you feel for the early morning. It’s filled with possibilities, with calm and serene moments. It doesn’t ask for anything but offers all. And maybe that’s how you’ve been feeling for him all along.

You sigh, turning so your back is to the window, trying to block out the rising sun so you can sleep some more. It does nothing to how your heart’s been acting up, but you still force yourself to lie in silence, to enjoy the feeling of infinity today carries.

You’ve dozed off a little by the time movement is heard in the apartment, and your eyes flutter open to look at the ceiling, as you’ve turned on your back. You yawn, stretching a little, before glancing to the side.

You let out a high-pitched squeal at the sight of the shirtless man that’s standing there, and he startles just as much as you, letting out a sound that rivals with the one you just made.

He’s not Felix, and he’s not Jisung. In reality, you have no idea who he is. You didn’t even know Felix has a roommate.

“Who are you?” the guy asks, and the first thing you notice is his accent.

“Jisung’s friend,” you reply as you sit up.

The man seems to realize he’s half naked, and he folds his arms on his chest. It makes his biceps pop out, and you reckon he’s quite the sight to see so early in the morning.

You have the decency to blush at the thought, and you look down at the floor.

“He and Felix offered to let me sleep here,” you add, worrying at your bottom lip. “I’m not going to stay.”

The guy shrugs. “Hey, it’s okay. Just was startled.” He laughs a little, before glancing in the direction of what you assume is the kitchen. “Do you want some coffee?”

“Uh,” you let out. “Yeah, sure.”

Turns out the guy is called Chris. The accent you’ve heard at first is the unmistakable Australian accent, and he informs you that he’s moved here with Felix for college. You end up eating breakfast along with him, because he’s decided to make protein pancakes. You’re surprised at how good they are, and you’re idly chatting at the kitchen table when Jisung enters.

He looks between you and Chris once, before saying, “You’ve got explanations about how you ended up at Jungkook’s place last night.”

He’s got a firm authoritative tone to his voice, and you recognize him for the older brother he is to you. You let out a shy laugh, before shrugging your shoulders.

“I already told you mom kicked me out.”

Chris’s eyes go wide as saucers as he looks at you, before his gaze dips down to his pancakes and he focuses on eating them.

“Yes, but Jungkook?”

Felix appears behind Jisung, brushing sleep out of his eyes. “Leave her alone, Han.”

Jisung glares at his boyfriend, before shrugging his shoulders. “I just think it’s weird because he’s got a girlfriend.”

“They broke up”, you say in a defensive tone.

Because it’s Jungkook you’re talking about, and you’d always defend him.

Jisung looks so surprised you almost start laughing. And it’s weird that you’re in a laughing mood – you were kicked out yesterday for God’s sake. But at the same time, it feels like you’ve reached the limit of your breaking, and the morning holds the possibility of healing.

The morning, and Jungkook, you reckon. Because you know healing starts with Jungkook. Healing starts with figuring out where it all went wrong, it starts with the conversation you’re supposed to have later.

Some place you also can study, hopefully, because you’ve got a midterm on Thursday.

“You’re fucking shitting me,” Jisung lets out as Felix starts pouring coffee for himself.

You shrug, feeling shy as everyone’s gaze moves to you. “They broke up on Sunday.”

“And you were over yesterday? Boy’s not wasting time.”

You furrow your brows. “It’s actually a coincidence that I ended up at his place. And Jiji’s fault.”

“Jiji? She hates his guts,” Jisung points out, still not fully believing you.

“She told him to go to the studio, he found me crying about getting kicked out and he offered me to spend the night before I figure out what to do.”

“That’s fair enough”, Felix says, interrupting Jisung who clearly was about to say something vile about Jungkook.

Jisung frowns, but he sighs and lets the expression go. He fully walks into the kitchen, helping himself to some of the pancakes Chris made. “He hurts you again I’ll fucking punch him.”

“Sungie,” you whine. “You’re the one that wanted me to tell him how I felt.”

“That was ages ago,” he reminds you. “I also told you to move on.”

“We’re going to talk today,” you admit.

There’s a heavy silence that follows your words. Jisung looks at you like you’re stupid, Chris seems like he wants to disappear, and Felix scrolls away on his phone as if he hasn’t heard.

“You ask me to come pick you up from his place in the middle of the night and then you say you’ll talk today?” Jisung eventually says, voice low.

It makes you feel stupid, and it makes you realize that maybe, maybe talking to Jungkook will lead nowhere.

Maybe you’re just going to offer each other closure before you truly move on. But you think you still deserve the closure, you still deserve the moving on. No matter how you might feel for Jungkook, some things truly are just not meant to be.

And this morning you think maybe that’s okay.

“I didn’t know yet that they were broken up,” you admit. “He didn’t want to drop it on me while I was crying because of my mother.”

“Valid,” Felix lets out, offering you salvation from Jisung’s wrath.

“Please,” Jisung scoffs. He seems to realize Jungkook might have actually done it right, because he adds, “Whatever. As I said, if he hurts you, he’s dead.” He’s frowning again, shaking his head. “And I can’t fucking believe your mother. My parents will give you a room at home if you want.”

The pain comes back now, but it’s different. Dull, as if Jungkook took its edges and softened them last night.

“Thank you.” You sigh, looking down at your plate, and you know you won’t be able to finish eating. “I’m going to get an apartment.”

It changes the subject to apartment hunting, and Jisung does his best to not appear too pissed whenever you mention that Jungkook will be helping you. Because even if all you give each other today is closure, you know Jungkook will still help.

You think you might know him better than you know yourself after all.

You follow Felix out when he says he needs to leave for college. You reckon sharing a Lyft might be a good idea, because you’re still on the other side of town. Felix agrees, though he admits he usually takes public transport to go to college. You shrug your shoulders, saying you’ll pay, and it’s halfway to your college that you realize something.

You realize you need to stop spending and to start saving money, if you want to be able to afford an apartment. And it makes you feel strange inside, like you might still have more that can break.

You cling to the feeling this morning holds. But some part of you is growing weary, dreary, because you get to college before Jungkook texts, and he told you he’d text you first thing in the morning. You don’t know his schedule though. You can’t assume his morning starts at the same time as yours do, so you try to stay calm and not let panic rise in you.

Felix walks with you on campus, until you part ways because he has to get to class. You decide you’re going to squat in the library, with your damn duffel bag and school bag you’ve been carrying around since yesterday. You find a spot in a corner, and you get busy studying, figuring it’s a better way to pass the time instead of looking at your phone expecting Jungkook to call you, to give you a sign of life.

You like studying. As much as law is a hard subject, it makes you feel connected to your father, somehow, and you like it. You like the highlighters and the lo-fi medieval beats and the books filled with laws and ethics and everything in between. You like being in a library, looking like you’ve got your shit together. You think that, to outside eyes, you probably look like you do. You can invent a life to yourself here, one where you haven’t been kicked out. One where you’re the pride of your family, and where you go skiing in the Alps once a year, taking pictures that you hang over the fireplace.

Not that you’re a big skier, and not that you’d go to the Alps anyway. You’d rather backpack around the world, discovering cultures unheard of before.

But sometimes, you do wish your family would have worked. You do wish your father never left, your mother never cheated. And sometimes, you do wonder who’s your biological dad.

Not that it’s important, and not that you will know one day. Your mother says she doesn’t even remember his name, and he was just a back-up dancer in a foreign country. Not someone that you’d ever have a chance of running into.

You sigh, turning the page of the book you’ve been reading. It’s about international law, your favourite subject, and your hardest class this semester. Professor Wickham is a bitch, and she loves failing people. Loves the look of pure distress people throw at her during exams, because she insists on being there while her students take her exams.

She’s a bitch, but she’s also renowned in the field, and you’ve been trying to make a good impression on her forever. Even though she refused you last semester when you tried getting an internship with her. Even though your summer internship still ended being great.

You run a hand through your hair, and you reach towards the reusable water bottle you always carry with you. Your hand stops halfway when your phone lights up next to you, and you grab it, heart beating wildly in your chest.

To your dismay, it isn’t Jungkook, but Jimin texting you.

[10:17 am] park.jm: jk wants me to tell you he’s an idiot [10:17 am] park.jm: he’s not able to unblock u. But he wants to know where u are🫥

You can’t hold in the smile that decides to grow on your lips.

[10:17 am] You: my college’s library. he can unblock me on insta and dm here..🙄

This time, you laugh a little when you see the next message you’ve received.

[10:18 am] jkonthebeat: i’m fkg dumb [10:18 am] jkonthebeat: is there a cafe near ur library? [10:19 am] jkonthebeat: haven’t eaten yet and figured it’d be great to talk over a cup of coffee? [10:19 am] jkonthebeat: if u still wanna talk [10:19 am] jkonthebeat: like i’d understand if u’d rather not? plz don’t feel like you have to [10:19 am] You: Jungkook [10:20 am] jkonthebeat: …what? [10:20 am] You: yes i still want to talk. i’ll send u the location of a chill place [10:21 am] jkonthebeat: okay, yeah good. i’ll be there as quickly as i can [10:23 am] You: shared location [10:26 am] jkonthebeat: eta 35 min😌

You can almost imagine Jungkook panicking on his side of the screen, and it makes you laugh a little more. Some guy throws you a look from the table where he’s sitting, and you offer him a wry smile before looking down at your international law book again. You still have a few pages to read in the chapter, so you decide to do that before meeting up with Jungkook.

It’s really hard to focus when you know his starry gaze is waiting for you. You eventually make it through, though it takes you so long you have to jog to the café to make it on time. You’re out of breath when you get there, and maybe a little sweaty, which you reckon might be disgusting. But Jungkook arrives almost right in time with you, hands digging in the pockets of his sweater pants. He looks like he came in his PJs, and you offer him a small smile when his eyes meet yours.

It’s an embrace, the same way the sun embraces the Earth every morning. It feels like you’d feel lying down in the morning sun rays, letting them warm your cold skin from the lightless night. It feels like you’re safe, like you’ve journeyed around the world only to return to the same spot that you’ll always return to.

He’s cataclysmic, he really is. Like he created you that night in July, the same way you know you’ve created him. In truth, you reckon the cataclysm might be you two together. As if the stars wrote the story decades ago, as if the universe knew your fate from its birth.

You expect it to hurt, but it doesn’t. It’s peaceful. You reckon you deserve a little bit of peace.

“Hey,” he greets you, and you wonder if you’re imagining the pink tint on his cheeks.

“Good morning.” You glance over your shoulder, at the door to the café, before meeting his soft gaze once more. “Do you want to go in?”

He nods, laughing a little. “I got to admit I’m starving.”

“Well, let’s get some food for you,” you say, and you turn.

You’re about to open the door when he grabs the duffel bag from you. “Let me carry that.”

“Oh,” you let out. “I don’t mind, I’m getting used to it.”

He just offers you a no-bullshit look that leaves no room for arguing, so you chuckle before opening the door. He follows you inside, and you choose a table in a quiet corner before you go to order something. You settle on an almond croissant while Jungkook gets a coffee and a cinnamon bun, along with a muffin that ��looks too good to be left there’. You roll your eyes at his comment, but he just offers you a wink.

It’s the wink you once thought was cocky. It’s not cocky at all anymore today, just teasing.

You’re back at the table and halfway through your croissant when Jungkook says, “Thank you for accepting to meet up.”

It makes you anxious, because the time has come. No matter how much you want this conversation to happen, you can’t help but dread it too.

“Of course.”

He worries at his piercing, big doe eyes watching you carefully. You feel as if he’s gazing right at your soul, and maybe he is.

Maybe he’s been gazing at it since the very first day.

“I’m going to start by saying I’m sorry,” he says, with a shy insecure voice you’ve never heard from him before. “Not that it changes anything. I can’t imagine how it must have felt for you all this time.”

Straight to the point. For some reason, you expected him to talk about your mother. But maybe he believes the subject to be over, or he’s been wanting to talk to you for too long about what’s been troubling his heart.

“It…” you start but you don’t know how to say it. You don’t know which adjective to employ, because all of them feel like you’re just trying to guilt him. And though you do want him to feel guilt, you know you don’t have to impose it on him.

He’s doing it to himself already.

“It’s been really hard,” you choose to simply say, because it’s the truth. “The way you did a one-eighty in just a few days? Like…” you trail off because you don’t know where to go, but Jungkook’s listening, waiting for you to continue patiently as he surveys you with those big eyes of his. “Like I felt horrible. The moment I told you we shouldn’t have…”

That’s what you wanted to tell him in July. Strange to think that the words are coming out now.

“I don’t think I believed it. Maybe I wanted to believe it, because it was scary, but I never believed it. And I’m sorry I said that.”

He’s still playing with his piercing, and it takes him a while to digest your words. “I knew, if that can make you feel any better. Not that I think it’ll feel better. But you have to understand that it really hurt me. Like…” It’s his turn to look for words, and you anxiously wait for what’s to follow. “I’m not a perfect person. I try to be, and I’ve tried even harder after the accident. But when you said that, I felt ashamed. Like I’m just someone disgusting. And I focused on it so hard the only thing I could think to do was push you away.”

And he did it. So easily, as if you were nothing but some weed he was taking out from his burgeoning flowers.

It hurts, that same pain you’ve grown accustomed to over the last few months. You want to flee, to disappear, but you know you have to face your feelings. Ignoring them brought you nowhere good, didn’t it?

“Did it help you feel better?” you ask.

A crease appears between his brows, and you wish to reach between you so you can flatten it away. Needless to say, you resist the impulse, and hate yourself for having it in the first place.

“It did?” he admits, though he sounds unsure. “I can’t lie and say I didn’t get scared too. It was terrifying. But I think I knew before you did.”

“What?”

“I think the night after I told you about the accident?” he says like a question, waiting for you to nod before he continues. “It changed something for me. I couldn’t see you the same way that I saw you before.”

You remember the day after he told you. You were angry at him, because he ignored the text you sent him when you woke up. Mostly because you were embarrassed that you acted like you cared, and you reckon you already did too. It feels like a lifetime ago, and for a mere moment you wish you could be back there and tell yourself to stop being blind. It’d save you a heartbreak.

“Oh,” is all you can think to say.

“So then it all culminated when you looked like you regretted so much,” he adds. You think you see him gulp. “Not going to lie, it actually really hurt. And when I hurt, I tend to turn into a very ugly person.” At that he can’t hold your gaze anymore, and he chuckles bitterly as he shakes his head. “Ask Tae.”

“You weren’t an ugly person”, you gently say after he’s stared at his half-eaten cinnamon bun for a while. “I hurt you, and you tried to move on. No?”

He looks at you again then. “Yeah. But I think some part of me wanted to hurt you too. And…” His gaze lines with silver, and his words die on his mouth. It makes you feel like there’s lava in your blood again, and you shiver. “And I did hurt you. I saw you wasting away all those weeks. You looked… so sad. And nobody cared.”

You don’t think it’s true that nobody cared. But you think you understand what he’s trying to say: nobody cared the way that he did, nobody can care the way that he does. Or so you like to tell yourself.

“It wasn’t just you, if that can reassure you,” you admit, eyes falling to his coffee cup as he picks it up. He doesn’t move to drink, just holds it, maybe because he needs to busy his hands. “There was my mom, and then Jiho growing distant, and all that shit. The internship was great, but it was rough too.”

All of it is true, though you know it wouldn’t have felt as gut-wrenching if you didn’t have to watch Jungkook loving someone else coincidentally.

“Thank you for saying so.” He clears his throat, tries a glance your way but decides to let his gaze drop again. He shifts in his chair a little, before saying, “I understand why you didn’t come to dance practice most of the time. And honestly, I didn’t like that you weren’t there. I know it makes me selfish, but I… I wanted to see you? Because…” He gulps, and you watch a tear as it rolls down his cheek. “Because then I could at least know that you were okay?”

You shut your eyes, nodding slowly. “It was just too hard to see you.”

“I know.”

There’s a pause in the conversation, while both of you fight the emotions that are choking you up. You expected you’d get angry at him, but all you’re able to feel is longing, the kind of longing that aches and burns and crushes your heart.

“I was a dick for not listening to you that night after practice,” he says, slowly. You open your eyes to look at him, catching his eyes on you before they flit back to the table. “I knew exactly what you were going to say, and I couldn’t hear it. I think if we had had this conversation then, I would have hated you.”

It’s your turn to gulp. “Why?”

“Because it was too soon. I was still neck deep in the embarrassment, and in the selfishness. But I wish I didn’t have to break your heart for the embarrassment to go away.”

“You think the ending would have been worse if I had told you that night?”

You sound like you don’t believe it. Maybe because for weeks you’ve kept telling yourself that it would have made things better. It’s hard to accept that it could have made things worse.

“Oh, trust me,” he says, scoffing. “I would have been very ugly. Remember all the fights we used to have? They wouldn’t have compared.” He pulls at his piercing, hard, and you think it probably hurts, but he doesn’t look like he cares. “I was ready to hurt you. That’s why I left.”

There’s an untold sentence there, but you hear it nonetheless.

I knew I was already going to hurt you anyway.

And that he sure did. But you find it hard to be angry at him today. You do let a silence linger for a time, only because you feel like cursing and crying at the same time, and you don’t want either to happen.

It passes, with your gaze diverting to the street outside. You watch a woman walking her dog until she’s disappeared from view, and then your eyes move up to the blue sky. It’s strange how sunny it is, when you feel like a tiny storm is brewing between you and Jungkook.

“Were you happy with her?” you ask, eyes still on the world outside.

It takes a while for Jungkook to reply. “I don’t know, honestly. I wasn’t sad by her side, I won’t lie to you, but I don’t think I was happy.” He chuckles sadly. “In all truth, I think I was punishing myself by being with her.”

It makes you look at him again, and this time your gazes connect like long lost lovers hugging after years apart.

“Punishing yourself for what?”

“For all the bad things I told you, all the times I tried to get on your nerves on purpose.” He shrugs. “For the way I purposefully decided to break your heart, and how I tried to ignore the consequences at first.” He speaks with conviction now, like that’s really what he’s been wanting to say all along. “I knew that being with her was hurting me, and I believed I deserved it.”

“But why?”

“Because… I feel like we’re going in circles, so I won’t repeat all that I just said. But because of all of that,” he says, and there’s a ghost of a smile on his lips. “All in all, I just was a fucking idiot.”

You can’t agree more, so you purse your lips and nod once. “That you were.”

He doesn’t even fake offence, just chuckles a little before taking a sip of coffee.

“Do you really want to help me with the apartment?” you ask, thoughtfully, eyes glazing a little as your mind runs miles away from him, to the place of hurt that being homeless at the moment is bringing to you.

“Yes,” he answers softly. “Not even because I want to redeem myself or anything. Like I said yesterday, I do care about you. And I wouldn’t let you go through a situation like this alone.”

You inhale shakily, blinking away the sudden tears. You won’t cry again.

“Okay.”

There’s another silence, only interrupted by the regular café sounds. You only then notice that there’s some music playing, but it’s so low you can barely make-out the song. It sounds like some indie artist you’ve heard once before, but it’s hard to tell.

“Do you think…” he starts, but he doesn’t finish. Instead, he eats a bite of cinnamon bun, as if he’s giving himself time to collect his thoughts. “Do you think we could be friends? Like… I don’t think I deserve your friendship, after everything that’s happened, but I’d forever be thankful if you still gave it to me.”

You don’t even hesitate before you say, “Of course, Jungkook.” You’re choking on tears again. “Of course we’re friends.”             

He’s crying too. “We can put it in the past?”

You bite at your lip to keep a sob in. “It might take some time, but yes, I think we can.”

“Fuck”, he curses, then he adds your name like it’s his favourite line from his favourite poem. He says it softly, carefully. “I am so sorry.”

“I’m sorry too.”

He shakes his head, stubbornly blinking his tears away. “No, but like… this is all my fault. I think I’ve never fucked up so bad in my life.”

“Jungkook…”

“I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you.”

It sounds like a promise, with forever laced to it. And maybe that’s what you are to him, a forever he can’t bring himself to let go.

It’s what he is to you too. Because, for all that Jisung and your father said, you didn’t want to move on from Jungkook. Some part of you always believed you’d find your way back to him, and today, you know you weren’t wrong.

And you’d go through the pain all over again, for eternity, just to experience this moment with him right now. This new cataclysm, the one that creates instead of destroying. It creates a world between you, and you find yourself excited to explore it. Yes, the scars will stay, but scars make us who we are.

Scars mar Jungkook’s skin, mar your heart and his too. Scars are the reason why your heart started opening up in the first place, and scars are what makes you want to hold on to him today. They brought you to him, brought him to you, and the pain that they carry, like everything in life, doesn’t last.

No winter lasts forever, no night can stop the sun from shining when the morrow comes.

But you’re right. It’ll take a while before you’re able to fully forgive Jungkook. The look in his eyes tells you that he’ll be with you every step of the way. It tells you that he’d die for you, and maybe he already did. Maybe you both died for each other, and that’s what the scars truly tell. A story of a complicated love that destroys and creates.

The story of the cataclysm of you and him. The story of the forgotten spaces where you always met. Because Jungkook meets you, even in the darkest corners of your heart. He doesn’t balk from it, doesn’t fear the worst of you. And you’d meet him in the desert, in the dance your hearts share, the one his body can’t experience anymore, but his soul and yours know by heart.

Maybe he’s been your forgotten space all along, and you his.

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18+ only❗❗❗

Inappropiate content ahead❗❗❗ -----__________---___________-----___________---__________-----

Imagine heeseung coming back from a long world tour, craving your touch but you, whos exhausted from college work was fully asleep in your apartment. Heeseung opening the door with a spare key u gave, the one he kept it safe for an important time, which was right now, he needed you. He walks in.. "Y/n?.. Y/n darling im back..". Heeseung says so innocently acting like he didnt jerk off multiple times in his hotel during the tours. He gets worried when he couldnt find u anywhere like the kitchen, living room or bathroom, so he walks in your bedroom to see you sleeping peacefully while you face the wall and your back facing him. He remembered his intentions growing hard at the sight of your new pink silk pjs, he walks closer to you slowly putting a strand of your hair behind ur ear. "Y/n my love?.." He checks if u were in deep sleep or not, and u definitely were. Heeseung changes into comfortable clothes lying down next to u, he controlled himself so so much, he wanted to do a lot of sinful things to u, but he controlled himself.. An in the end? He gave up, he did everything he imagined. He started to undress u, not caring if it woke u up, all he could think of is you, he missed pleasing u and himself. He starts touching u everywhere swiftly like there was no tomorrow, caressing your breasts as he gives u wet neck kisses. Hearing ur whimpers as u squirmed his moves get slightly rougher before you finally wake up. Seeing you wake up, heeseung jolts in giving u a kiss, pouring his emotions into it, how much he missed, desired and loved you. He takes your underwear off, spreading ur legs as he immediately goes in hungrily, getting so pussy drunk. His finger rubbing on your throbbing clit before his tounge goes inside your hole, thrusting in an out waking u up completely as he lapped all your juices getting so pussy drunk.

"Love tastes so good hm?.." Heeseung mumbles during the licks and laps sending a vibration thru ur body making u shiver in pleasure, his hands roaming everywhere, caressing your breasts, pinching and rubbing your nipples as you moan loudly making him even more turned on. Seeing your back arch, he inserted 2 fingers in your hole, thrusting in an out relentlessly while his other finger rubbed your clit, making you so close to your high. "Cum for me love, cum all over my fingers like the good girl u are.." Heeseung says making you cum all over his hands immediately. "A-ahh!~ Heeseung- fuck!~" U moan while arching ur back, what a great way to get woken up.. Heeseung gives u a peck on ur forehead as u catch ur breath. "My princess did so well, did u miss me love?" Heeseung says, making u nod as he smiled giving u a peck on ur lips.

"Can i pleasure my lovely girlfriend tonight?" Heeseung asks leaning in, caging u with his arms while looking into ur eyes sincerely, which ofcourse u nodded to. He swiftly takes his sweatpants off, aligning his cock against ur entrance, teasing ur hole, rubbing his tip against ur clit making u whine and whine in annoyance and frustration. But of course heeseung himself couldn't last long, he slid his cock inside without a warning making u gasp, he kisses your neck to reassure u before pounding into u deeply making u a moaning mess. Its been months ever since he fucked u making u all crazy for his cock, u craved his touch so much and ur getting what u both needed.

"fuck mm.. so tight just for me?~" heeseung groans, pounding harder and harder as u moaned in pleasure, the whole bedroom filled with the sound of skin slapping against each other, both of ur moans and heeseungs praises drove the both of u crazy for each other. Soon you reached ur high, "h-hee!~ m' c-cumming~" you moaned, but he didnt give u time, u cummed all over his cock but his thrusts didnt look like it would stop just yet. His thrusts got faster and harder making u shiver in pleasure as heeseung overstimulated u. Your hands gripping on his forearm as u whined and moaned crazily cumming again and again making u clench his cock, making heeseung almost reach his high. He did what u loved, his hand grabbing your throat pinning it on the bed as he pounded into u relentlessly, he started cursing under his breath and moaning ur name, and u knew he was close.

"fuckk.. u drive me crazy y/n"..."princess let me cum inside you.. please let me fucking cum inside u princess!~"..."my princess is the only one that makes me feel so good hm?~ cum all over me again.."

His moans drove u crazy as he finally cummed inside you, which u craved for the most. He looked like an Angel cumming inside u, his eyes closed as he threw his head back, his mouth slightly open as he moans time to time full of praises. "fuck yes.." "my princess felt so good.." "so good mm~" He moans as he cuddles and hugs u tight, giving u the aftercare u deserved. At the end of the day.. The both of u got what u craved a lot, eachother.

Craving satisfied

ENDDDD HEHEHEHHE

IF YALL SEE ANY MISTAKES OR TYPOS N SHI PLS CORRECT OR IGNORE THEM! THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING SMUT SAUR... HEHEHEHEHE

[peachy-dove]

Sakazuki Akainu X Chubby!GN!Reader Headcanons sfw/Nsfw

CW: MDNI 18+ Content, Daddy kink, Akainu, tbh this is completely self indulgent I just need more Akainu content.

(Tumblr completely ate half of this post I’ve had to come back and fix stuff so if it seems like I added some stuff I did)

SFW:

→ Akainu has always been quite the stern and hard man, not much cracks him to show more than just two general emotions but something about you just does it for him

→ For him you’re just the sweetest thing he’s ever laid eyes on and you’re just so enticing to him

→ For him I think you’d have to either be a civilian or part of the WG or part of the Marines for him to fall for you, his sense of justice just wouldn’t allow for anything else.

→ He doesn’t always get a lot of time for himself but he enjoys your presence even when he’s busy, just sitting near him while he sits at his desk getting work done is good enough for him

→ I feel like his love languages are Quality time and acts of service more than anything

→ He enjoys talking walks with you and even decided on a vacation for you both to a cabin in the woods so that he could take a hiking trip with you! Just the two of you in nature enjoying the quiet and being near each other it’s when he’s the most relaxed.

→ He does not relax often, he's always tense as hell, please give this man a break.

→ kiss his forehead and rub his shoulders and he’s putty in your hands, he’ll become the softest man in the world with you. He’ll lean into your touch sighing and gasping at the soft kisses you left along his collar bone.Akainu will pull you into his lap and nuzzle into your hair as he feels the weight of the day come off his shoulders

→ Sakazuki will rub his hands up and down your sides squeezing and pinching where he can, he absolutely loves your body. Anyone says a thing and they will not live to see tomorrow.

→ he’s a sucker for your hips and how he can grab and squeeze

→ Date nights are once a month, he loves to see you dressed up. It makes him slightly blush anytime you put on nice clothes. He just adores you more than usual. Like I said he just can’t get enough of you, you mesmerize him.

→ He loves your kisses he won’t admit it but your kisses make him melt and heat up inside more than his devil fruit (so cheesy ik)

→ he’s the type when he’s home to wake up at 6am no matter the occasion- it will take a lot to get him to sleep in, or he would have to have had a really bad week.

→ teasing him with Kizaru is your usual pass time and as much as he says he hates it.. He doesn’t don’t stop, he gets pouty.

→ Gets jealous very easy

→ He WILL give the silent treatment, he's extremely petty so he needs lots of reassurance, if it’s a lower rank marine guaranteed they are either demoted or gonna be pushed around by him forever.

→ I like to think he’s a gift giver too, especially as an apology because he’s not good with words.

NSFW:

→ Very much a dom/top. I can see him letting you top him every now and again but never too often.

→ very much loves receiving head more than giving, will have you cockwarm him with your mouth under his desk. He loves the little gags you make when he bucks his hips into your throat :3

-when he goes dow on you it’s literal heaven, I would like to think he’s very skilled at giving head, his tongue work is amazing and isn’t afraid to get messy

-adores when he goes down on you and your tummy/fupa is resting on his forehead <3

- Sakazuki is rough, everything about him is rough and hard, but he makes up for it with the foreplay, he starts out soft fingering your hole slowly stretching you out to fit his girthy cock, spitting on your hole and pinching your nipples and leaving marks along your neck

-Loves it when you ride him, he gets to see you in all of your glory, not an inch of you hidden from him as he watches you bounce and his dick disappear in and out of your soaked and stretched hole

-Loves when you’re in missionary and your thick warm thighs wrap around his body and bring him closer to you and pushing his cock deeper

- King of back shots don’t @ me, I know this man can deliver some leg quivering strokes that will have you begging for more. Almost cums immediately when he sees and feels the way your ass claps back on his dick. It makes him try to fuck you deeper and hit that spot to make you go dumb >:3

→ he believes in deep and long strokes that make your legs give and you can feel him in your tummy

→ you can’t convince me he doesn’t have a daddy kink i will die on this hill.

→ isn’t against toys but don’t expect him to bring them in all the time, he’s not against using them on himself as well. I can see him liking vibrators and/or vibrating cock rings.

→ sit on his face sit on his face sit on his face sit on his face sit on his face sit on hi-

Overall this man needs you to sit on his face and he adores tf outta you I have so many more Akainu and other one piece character thoughts plz request stuff in my inbox i will give more!

[lgcsaem]

☆ ⸝⸝ 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐙𝐎𝐍𝐒 , a solo.

"wassup, wassup, wassup!"

echoing throughout a multitude of desolate halls, bare of life and personality in the wake of its new tenants having yet to properly move in, misaki finds himself standing at the threshold— socked feet stand upon freshly polished floors, knees knobby as his body vibrates with excitement, an incredibly wide grin spread across his lips as he barrels into the space that is now his new living quarters. it's all too grand, too exciting, his gaze propelling from one site to another as he peruses each floor.

three.

three floors make up the space in which he and the other boys will call their new, official, home.

misaki can't contain himself.

he'd asked for a key as soon as it'd been possible to, his mind having been made up months ago regarding his place within the team. this was his dream, the very thing he'd been working towards from the moment he'd signed his name across dotted lines once legacy had taken an interest in him. like hell was he going to let it slip through his fingers, cheer uncapped as he looked through common rooms, eyes casting fleeting glances within bedrooms not belonging to him, astonishment growing exponentially the moment his eyes lay upon the second and third floors expanses.

this is more than he could've ever dreamed of.

there's no shortage of boxes, the room he's been assigned to stuffed with personal treasures as far as the eye can see, small misaki hard at work as he goes about situating his belongings. all the while, his company-appointed camera is held safely within his grasp, lens pointed towards his newly ( semi ) organized space, plushies, clothes, and various other knickknacks scatted about as the camera focuses on himself.

"i still have two whole boxes to unpack and put away!" the youngest complains, brows furrowing as his lips downturn into a pout, his gaze flickering across the multitude of items scattered around his appointed space. he's already given his own version of a tour within their new apartment, his elation having since simmered into something far more impatient.

it's easy to forget just how many things you have until it's time to move.

again.

for a moment, misaki simply sits and pouts, expression visible to his company-appointed camera as he decides what he'd like to tackle next. he could be responsible and unpack the next box of cardboard awaiting him, closet still empty enough to hold the number of clothes he knows are still tucked within. the other box awaiting him? plushies galore, all in need of a new home, and yet—

"the sun is due to set soon!"

that's how misaki finds himself spending his late afternoon, smaller body tucked snuggling against the patio couch cushions as the sun slowly falls beneath the horizon, bright sky giving way to inky black as a multitude of stars stain all that his eyes gaze upon.

it's amazing, beautiful, nothing like he's seen before yet everything he's ever known.

"i think i'll finish unpacking tomorrow . . . maybe i'll ask minki hyung for help . . . "

droopy eyes mirror the ways in which his words begin to slur, eyes dropping ever so slightly as the world grows darker, misakis body tired from such a harrowing day. while having energy to boot, misaki has always found moving to be quite the task, but there isn't anywhere the young boy can't make into a home for himself.

tucked snuggly against the cushions of his new homes patio furniture atop the second floor of his groups second-floor apartment, misaki allows himself to fully feel at home. his eyes close, image captured with the remaining camera battery he had, face peaceful as he drifts off, mind ablaze with possibilities for tomorrow.

[softrozene]

Arthur Turns into a Parent

Anon asked: Howdy:)! I'm loving your blog so far, as new as it is. I was wondering if you could write HC's on a new addition to camp who's a kid--maybe around 11 or 12 and she always follows around Arthur cos he saved her or something, and all the gang members tease him about it, but she evntially grows on him and sticks with him to the very end :'( Idk, hopefully something fluffy and father daughter sort of thing:) Only if you're okay with it!! 

rdr2 masterlist

This is my type of thing. We love a wholesome father figure Arthur in this house! Thanks for the request Lovely!

Originally published on January 28, 2020

(Father-Daughter relationship) Arthur Morgan x Kid!reader

Warnings: Fluff, spoilers?

Words: ~700

-

Arthur would be so angry that you chose him, out of the damn people here at camp, to follow around

He would be very annoyed, all huffy puffy, but wouldn’t say a dang word about it

The annoyance is obvious especially if Hosea or Dutch tease him about it, but he keeps his lips tight with them

If it’s another member making fun of him he will tell them to “Shut up”

Despite his behavior, he never ever tells you to go away

Give it a few days and he’ll cave in

He’ll turn into the mama bear he’s meant to be eventually

Since you are technically glued to him, he has to promise to come back a few times in order for you to stay with Abigail or someone else, while he goes on a mission

Eventually, he’ll embrace the father role that you had forced upon him (thanks to Hosea and Dutch probably)

He’ll teach you everything he knows

If you’re his daughter now he wants you to be able to protect yourself

He doesn’t want you to end up like his baby mama Eliza and his son Isaac

Eventually, you’ll be like Jack and call everyone Uncle or Auntie

The second you call Arthur Daddy or Papa his heart will literally melt

He’ll finally see this as the second chance he doesn’t deserve but will embrace it

Arthur probably has a sixth sense so if Micah comes near you, you bet Arthur will be there making sure that Micah will not interact with you

He ain’t afraid to shoot him if he tries to talk to you

If you ever see Mary and become mean or jealous of her, Arthur will think it’s the cutest thing in the world

Mary will be slightly upset wishing that she was your mother after seeing how loving Arthur is towards you

Get out of here mary

When he realizes he has TB you are the only one he will tell because he doesn’t want you to be devastated when it’s too late

He might try to distance himself but if it hurts you more he would stop immediately

You would be entrusted to John and Abigail and when the time comes you don’t put up a fight- You don’t want to break his heart more and he definitely doesn’t want to see you witness his death

You’ll stay as long as you can but he’ll make you leave with Abigail when she leaves with Sadie

Jack calls you his big sister

John may have Arthur’s stuff but when the time comes you’ll get the notebook

You’ll probably join John, Charles, and Sadie to get revenge for Arthur (since 8 years pass reader would be 19/20) so Abigail can’t control you lmao

Small Bonus Scenario:

“Hey Kid, wake up,” Arthur’s voice is surprisingly gentle as he shakes you gently.

Your eyes open real wide and you are breathing with panic. Upon seeing Arthur’s face you feel better immediately. You hug him.

“I know, Kid. It was just a dream. You’re safe now. See? You’re home with us,” Arthur says murmuring these lines of comfort for you.

He holds you gently for a bit before he pulls away. “You good now?”

You shake your head and he smiles, “See. Nothing is ever gonna hurt you again. Not that you have me and all of us to protect you. Uncle Charles and Javier wish to train you tomorrow if you’d like.”

Seeing your eyes light up like that makes him chuckle. Despite not being his real flesh and blood, you sure are his daughter with that behavior and enthusiasm for wanting to learn this type of thing.

“Sadie wants to take ya shopping too. Said you’d been bothering her for pants,” Arthur says softly.

You nod your head eagerly and he laughs. “Fine. Fine. Probably suit you better than those dresses. She’s gonna be proud that you’re taking her new style. Anyway- Go back to sleep. I’m here to protect ya now.”

“Will you stay until I fall asleep?” You ask softly immediately clutching his hand.

He huffs just slightly before saying, “Sure, Kid.”

[messrmoonyy]

could you write just regular tess x fem! reader hcs for the girlies only🫣

Tess Servopoulos HCs

A/N - Tess is for the girls and Joel and that’s it. Fact. Here’s just a few lil Hcs about how I think Tess would be with a gf, some generalones and then some slightly nsfw ones at the end.

I also have one shots for Tess ready to post either today or tomorrow so. Yk. Look out for those.

Reminder as with all hcs these are my ideas so if you don’t like them/find them ooc, sorry. But. Everyone sees characters different

Masterlist

• Joel definitely teased the shit out of her when he caught wind that she liked you.

• she’s definitely a ‘ grab the bull by the horns type ‘ so after a few weeks she gave up trying to be secretive about it and just told you. Straight to the point.

• she’s over protective AS FUCK. that’s just a given. You don’t mess with Tess, and you don’t mess with her girl either.

• any and all people in the underground network of the QZ know who Tess is and know that she isn’t to be messed with- and by extension you.

• at first she was actually worried people might use you as a way to get at her. It was quite the ego boost when it simply just gave them another reason to leave her alone.

• yes she’s protective but. She also knows you can handle yourself and if you two ever get into some sticky situations she knows you’ll protect her just as much.

• loyalty is very important to her

• she’s secretly a softy when she’s in love with someone I don’t care what anyone says. She’s a softy at heart.

• she’s not one for making a big deal about relationships, she’s subtle with it. She’s not one for PDA or lots of kissing in front of people.

• but she does love a forehead kiss. If you ever wake up from a nightmare she knows that’s one of the best ways to soothe you.

• she likes holding your hand too. That’s subtle enough for her

• she tops. End of story. No debate. She’s a mf top. Fight me.

• she’s surprisingly softer than you’d expect tho , the worlds a pile of shit and she likes to find the small pockets of joy that she can. And making you feel good is one of them.

• she’s good with her fingers. We know she knows her way around a gun, and god does she know her way around a cunt too.

• at least once. At least. She’s had you in one of the many back alleys of the QZ. Fingers inside you, hand over your mouth to keep you quiet I’m feral for it

• big spoon Tess.

[diremoone]

Beautiful (Always) | Joel Miller.

w — female Reader, mentions of disability, Reader in a wheelchair, mentions of brain injury and loss of motor skills, use of “cripple” being self-derogatory on Reader’s part, Joel being a sweetheart and making Reader feel better

note(s): this made me cry a little bit while writing this. This second part to “Never, Ever” was requested and fueled by this ask. Thank you for requesting a second part and making me make myself cry lmao. I would’ve had this out sooner, but my sleep schedule got messed up D: Maybe I’ll have a Pedro fic out by Valentine’s Day hmmm

****

When you wake up three weeks later, Joel damn near cries.

He’s missed your eyes. He’s missed looking into them and getting lost in them. And when you open your eyes for the first time weeks after being comatose, Joel realizes that getting lost in your eyes has become part of his life. He realizes how beautiful they are and how they shine in the sunlight. He realizes how much, how important it is to him to see your eyes. Because for the first time in weeks, he doesn’t feel empty.

He doesn’t feel alone.

Joel is there for everything. Save for showering and using the restroom, he’s by your side constantly.

You need it, at first. Your motor skills are anything but what they used to be. You can feed yourself and use the bathroom by yourself, barely, but you can hardly walk or do anything else.

The blunt force trauma to your brain from Abby’s beating almost left you completely unable to fend or do much of anything for yourself, aside from the most menial of tasks. And even those take all of the energy you have. The unusual and abnormal strength and muscle you had acquired over the last twenty years was next to gone. You felt as helpless as an infant with the strength of an infant. You wanted to cry like one, too, if you were ever honest with yourself.

It was exhausting getting in and out of bed, too, having to rise and push yourself off of the mattress. Your arms and legs shook with strain. So Joel had taken it upon himself to get you in and out of bed and into your wheelchair every morning and night, hating the sight of seeing you struggle.

God, you loved him. Joel Miller would move Heaven and Earth for you if you do much as asked.

But God forbid those times you have to use the bathroom in the middle of the night.

But during those nights, you feel Joel’s hand on your back, carefully pushing you up and into the wheelchair. He’s always there, ready and willing to help you, no matter how tired he is.

****

Your hand shakes as you hold up the spoon to your lips. You hated this.

For over a month it had been this way. It had gotten better, but you were still shaking like a leaf, struggling to put the spoon up to your lips without spilling any of the hot soup Joel had made.

You drank the soup, closing your eyes and enjoying the flavor. Joel’s domestic skills were certainly shining through.

You dropped the spoon into your bowl, sighing heavily. Damn it. You wanted to slam your fist against the table. You were so weak. How could you be this weak?

“Something wrong with the food?”

At the sound of his voice, a faint smile stretched across your lips.

“Never.” You watch as Joel comes in and sits beside you. “But you’re home early.”

“Tommy sent me home early,” Joel answers, “also sayin’ I’ve got the day off tomorrow, too.”

“That’s nice of him.”

“Ah, he just knows I’m not worth much with you still being in recovery mode,” Joel admits.

“You don’t need to worry about all the time,” you insist, taking hold of Joel’s hand. He lovingly rubs his thumb over your skin. “I’m a big girl. I can still handle some things by myself.”

“I know ya can,” he replies, slightly unconvincing, “but that ain’t gonna stop me from worryin’, sweetheart.”

You love this man. You really freaking do. Your heart solely belongs to him, and you’d swear it in front of the entire world — well, what was left of the world, anyway — and in front of God himself. Under the altar, you mused, looking down, bashful of your own thoughts. I guess that’s why people get married.

“Joel…” You sigh. “You shouldn’t worry so much. Plus, it’s not good for your health, you old man.”

“Keep teasin’, see what happens, baby,” he says, chuckling.

“Sure thing, handsome.”

He grabs a bowl of the the beef soup and eats alongside you. It’s peaceful. It’s the most peaceful dinner you’ve had since your… incident.

“You showered?”

“That was the first thing I did this morning.” You shrug lamely. “Haven’t done much else.”

“That’s fine,” he said. “I can do the other stuff tomorrow.”

“I’ll help.”

“No—“

“Don’t piss me off, Joel. Or I’ll get up and walk out that door just to scare the shit out of you.”

Joel raises a brow, a smirk crawling up his lips. “Oh, yeah? Think you can?”

“Wanna fuck around and find out?”

Your smiles and his smirk turned into amused giggles and chuckles. He grabs your hands and kisses both of them.

“I love you,” Joel murmurs. “So much, baby.”

“I love you, too,” you whisper.

How fast the air of joy can turn into one of melancholy, you think to yourself sadly.

“You want anymore food, baby?”

“I’m good,” you admit. “Was actually really filling.”

Joel takes and rinses the dishes and places them in the left side of the sink, leaving them there to do tomorrow.

“Ya know, Tommy’s having a small party this coming up weekend,” Joel starts, “and I was thinking maybe we could go and have some fun. Tommy hasn’t seen you but twice since… you know. And I think he thinks you deserve to have some fun.”

“I think I’ll pass,” you say quickly.

He gives you a certain look, an unsure smile appearing on his face. Of course he was going to try to convince you.

You feel the tears of shame and embarrassment burning at your eyes. You can’t imagine going anywhere like this. Not like this. You can’t imagine going anywhere with Joel, because you felt like nothing more than a… damn deadweight. Not like this. You felt like nothing more than an embarrassment. You shouldn’t be sitting here in this wheelchair, unable to stand or maintain your balance to stand. You should be up and around, doing things around the house and the community to help.

“It might be good for you,” he said, drying his hands. “Lord knows people miss seeing you. Party might help lift your spirits, sweetheart.”

“No! Not like this, Joel! Not… like this!” you cry out.

You angrily slam your fist against the arm of the wheelchair over and over again, letting out broken-hearted shout that makes Joel’s own heart break.

Joel catches your fist and holds it tightly against his chest so you won’t continue to bruise and abuse yourself.

“Sweetheart,” he begins. “I—“

“How can you still love me? Even like… like this?” you sob out, sniffling and swallowing the snot in the back of your throat. It’s only now that the tears roll down your cheeks. They’re sticky and you dislike it. You hate it. You hate that your nose is stopping up. You especially hate that you’re crying in front of Joel. You were supposed to be strong, damn it. For Joel’s sake, you were supposed to appear unfazed, by both your trauma and your current condition. “I know I’m not a complete cripple, but I just hate this! I hate feeling so fucking… useless, Joel… I hate not being able to do the things I used to. I can’t even get out of bed without making myself tired all over again. It’s… It’s driving me nuts. And I feel like I’m going insane. And I feel like I’m letting you down, Joel. I’m nothing more than a burden, and I hate it.”

It’s silent after that, Joel unable to respond from the weight of your words. It’s nice to get it out in the open — everything you’ve been feeling out on the table. It’s been hard on you mentally, struggling constantly with the knowledge you were as helpless as you were, that you needed as much help as you did, especially doing tasks that never used to take up your energy but now take all of it.

But then he clears his throat and pulls the chair he was sitting in right up to your wheelchair. His legs touch yours, but all you can think about is how you can hardly walk from the kitchen to the bedroom without collapsing into the bed in a sad heap of tears and pain.

Joel’s big, warm, firm hands gently cup your cheeks. He softly tugs your face up, forcing you to look into his glistening eyes that are rimmed with tears. You look away in remorse and guilt, internally chastising yourself for making Joel cry.

“Look at me baby.” His tone is gentle but commanding, shaking with concern. And you do it, holding his gaze.

“First of all,” he begins, jaw tight, “don’t ever call yourself a fucking cripple. Don’t ever call yourself useless, because you’re not. You suffered a severe injury to your head savin’ my old ass. Don’t hate yourself for this. Don’t hate yourself for something that ain’t your fault… Okay? You’re not a burden, baby. Never will be. Why wouldn’t I take care of the woman I love?”

The tip of his nose touches yours and he gives a slow Eskimo kiss. He kisses away the tears rolling down your cheeks.

“I’ll always love you, no matter what. You’ll always be beautiful to me. Whether you’re in this wheelchair or not, which you won’t be for long considering you’re getting your strength back pretty quickly, you’ll always have my heart. I ain’t leavin’, you silly woman. Now, come on. Show me that pretty smile I love so much. I know it works, or do I need to press your smile button?”

You grinned, sniffling and wiping away your tears. Joel booped your nose (your “smile button”) anyway and chuckled too, happy to see your tiny grin flourish into a cheerful smile and giggle among your tears.

He wraps his big arms around you and pulls you into his lap. Your legs dangle to the side as he hugs you to him.

You sharply inhaled for breath and said, “I love you, Joel. I love you so much. Thank you for being with me.”

“I should be thanking you for being with me,” he laughs. “Who’d love an old man like me?”

You smack his chest. “You’re not old!”

“You’re right, with my knees creakin’, I’m ancient.”

“Joel!”