#like we spent all day together monday and tuesday at college

[bluesundaymorn]

how to nicely but bluntly tell my friend that no i don't want to spend my fucking day in his flat doing fuck all while he smokes weed all day no borax no fucking glue

[highvern]

Teach Me VI

Final

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Pairing: Lee Dokyeom (Seokmin) x fem!reader

Genre: smut, humor, college au

Warnings: angst, pining, crying, alcohol consumption, jealous pouty DK, meddling Seungkwan and Hoshi, eventual smut, dry humping, making out, face fucking, munch DK as always, unprotected sex, cream pie, they're simps for each and its disgusting!, DK wearing a chain that dangles in readers face bc im sick and twisted, kinda choking but not really?

Length: ~7.4k

Note: SURPRISE!! ITS HERE!!!! this series started in OCTOBER which is wild to think about. two months of these two plaguing my day to day and so many amazing readers interacting with the story honestly makes a little emotional for it to end. this is the first series i've ever done and now it's over so soon but there are bigger and better things on the horizon! (goes and cries in the corner) If you notice any errors or typos pls ignore.

This blog is intended for 18+ only! MDNI or you'll be blocked!

read more here

[MONDAY 11:23 AM]

YOU: Home

Mr. Boo: Thank you! Love you!

Mr. Boo: We can have a bff night when I get back

[MONDAY 4:48 PM] 

DOKYEOM: Hope you got home safe

DOKYEOM: I’m sorry, I shouldn't have spoken to you like that.

DOKYEOM: Can we talk this week?

Dokyeom doesn’t leave his room the rest of the weekend. A combination of fear of Seungkwan beating the crap out of him and absolute heartbreak keep him wrapped in the covers. Not even Soonyoung can elicit more than a half-hearted grunt when checking if his roommate is still alive.

The drive back to campus is no different. Staring longingly out the window, Dokyeom stares at his unanswered messages. When he goes to your Instagram he finds your account missing with the sinking realization you blocked him.

Seventy two of the best and subsequent worse hours of his life crumbled your fragile relationship. He thought you returned his feelings. 

After Soonyoung blabled a drunken confession on Dokyeom’s behalf, he worried you’d drive off in the night; swiftly rejecting him. But you wrapped your arms around him and held him as you slept. Kissed him awake in the early morning sun, nothing but a soft smile and presses of lips across his face. It was better than anything Dokyeom hoped for. He thought it meant you liked him back even if you didn’t say it yet.

But then you interrogated him and the hot tub and it all came crashing down. You were trying to let him down easy, buttering him up before giving him a reality check. It’d hurt of course. The tsunami of shame at thinking he had a chance and then adding insult to injury when you called him childish. 

Dokyeom knows he was wrong for his reaction but embarrassment sent him spiraling and he needed to get as far away from you as possible. 

And now that he’d succeed, he doesn't think he can find a way back.

—

Monday and Tuesday are spent suffocating under a mound of blankets, munching on a carton of ice cream, and crying till your head hurts and your throat is sore. The string of texts from Dokyeom remains thoroughly ignored; but each buzz of your phone raises your heart rate to unhealthy levels until you read the notification from some store offering a discount. 

You ignore the string of messages from Dokyeom, tempted more and more to block him as they come through; but you can’t bring yourself to do it. Just like you can’t bring yourself to delete the pictures of you two together peppered throughout your camera roll, or the most recent video that does nothing but make you sick to your stomach.

Tuesday night your roommate returns to campus, cheery and well rested from a weekend with her boyfriend back home. You hide from her friendly questions about your weekend in the bathroom, shrouded in steam and bubbles.

Looking at yourself in the mirror after you're sufficiently pruned and chilled from freeze drops, you notice the traces of Dokyeom still on your skin. 

A tiny maroon bruise is fading to a sick green right under your collar bone. Prodding it with the tip of your finger, you wince at the tenderness of the flesh. 

You hate it. 

Hate how somehow your eyes are thick with a gloss of tears at the sight of a hickey, they way you can’t catch your breath when you realize the shirt you brought in with you is another one of his you lifted over the months.

Dokyeom hadn’t been your boyfriend. You two hadn’t even been casually dating. Over and over again you remind yourself you were just friends who had sex, and you shouldn’t be this torn up over a guy. Dokyeom didn’t like you and that wasn’t something to hold against him. 

But the facts do nothing to stop the knot permanently lodged in your throat.

—

The first time you see Dokyeom post-not-breakup, he’s sitting in one of the rolling chairs at the mahogany table you two claimed for your usual study sessions. 

Blood frozen, heart clenching unbearably, you turn and walk right back out the revolving glass doors, hoping he didn’t see you.

But the echo of quick footsteps behind you say otherwise.

“Hey! Y/N!”

Faltering for a moment, you keep walking as if you hadn’t heard anything. And because the universe has a sick sense of humor, the crossing light turns red just as you approach, leaving you stranded with the one person you didn’t want to see.

You whip around at tap against your arm with such ferocity you nearly stumble.

Dokyeom has the gall to smile at you sheepishly before opening his mouth, “Hey.”

“Hi.” 

“You weren’t in lab yesterday.”

“Nope.” You respond monotonously, glancing behind you at the still red crossing light.

“Did you need notes or—”

“No, I got them already.”

“Oh, well—”

The light turns green, allowing you to race across the road before Dokyeom can finish his thought. The heat of his gaze doesn't leave your back until you turn down the next road leading you home.

—

Your second interaction with Dokyeom is in the same sterile lab your friendship started. You slip inside just before class starts, narrowly avoiding getting locked out by your grumpy instructor. 

Sliding into an open seat near the door, you stare straight ahead as he delves into the topic for this afternoon, pointedly ignoring the pair of eyes watching you from the familiar station at the back of the room.

“Finals are almost upon us people so I would like to take this opportunity to remind you that the lab is not open after hours. Meaning, you should prioritize your time in this room. Now let’s get started.”

The guy you’ve been partnered with is nice enough, willing to follow your lead as you read off the necessary equipment. He even manages to crack a few jokes, though not funny you’re thankful for the distraction.

You learn his name is San, he’s an underclassman and he doesn’t understand anything about the class despite attending every lecture and office hour available. 

When he leans over to copy the results you’ve scratched into your notebook, you hear a crack and shatter behind you. A dozen heads twist towards the source of commotion, finding a red faced Dokyeom staring at you.

“Mr. Lee! May I remind you our lab equipment isn’t cheap!”

“Sorry,” he mutters, shuffling towards the broom hanging on the wall.

You focus on ignoring him the rest of class, which is surprisingly easy with your new partner pestering you with inane questions. 

A lull hits, waiting for the digital scale to spit out a final reading. You managed to pull well ahead of schedule, calling over your instructor to verify your results before collecting your things. 

“So,” San starts, stuffing his own notebook in his bag. “Would you be down to tutor me sometime?”

“Oh, I uh—”

“No pressure! I just saw some of the old quizzes in your folder and thought maybe you could help me out.”

“Sure,” you smile, taking his phone to enter his number. 

Voices from the different stations echo off the blank walls, drowning your conversation out.

“Awesome! My boyfriend took this class last year but did about as well as I’m doing.”

Returning his phone back, you start walking to the door. “Oh, really?” 

“Yeah, he told me to take geology instead but I didn’t listen.” He laughs, stepping forward to hold the heavy wooden door open for you to pass.

You miss the sound of a second beaker breaking as you walk down the hall with your new friend.

—

“Dude, you have got to calm down.” Soonyoung pleads, head hanging off the couch as his legs extend into the air. He swears the increased blood flow makes him smarter.

Dokyeom nearly wears a rut into the carpet from his pacing across the length of their tiny living room. He’s been in a mood since that afternoon, watching his not-girlfriend-possibly-no-longer-friend giggle with some dude that wasn’t him. And then give her number to said dude. In front of him. All while she completely ignored his existence.

“He probably just asked her to study together.”

Jealousy isn’t Dokyeom’s thing. Sure he may whine and pout if he isn’t getting enough attention, but he’s never got the blood boil urge scream like he has right now. And about a girl that won’t even look at him.

Tangling both fists in his hair, Dokyeom tries to calm down. Soonyoung was probably right. You’re a genius at chemistry, you’re slated to officially tutor through the library next semester pending final grades, and the guy Dokyeom swears he’s never seen in class most likely asked you for help. It’s not his place to be jealous.

“Hate to be that guy but you need to get a grip”

It's easier said than done. There's four more weeks of class plus a four hour final and your Seungkwan’s friend. You’re not going to disappear after the semester ends and Dokyeom’s feelings surely aren’t going anywhere given he’s got a constant reminder that you’re the woman he lost his virginity to. 

If he knew inviting you to that party at the beginning of the semester would end up like this, he'd have sat somewhere else the first day of lab.

Soonyoung chokes on his own saliva when Dokyeom collapses on the floor with a reluctant, “You’re right.”

“I am?” Eyes bugging so hard they nearly pop from his head.

“I just have to move on.”

They both silently agree to pretend Dokyeom is capable of that.

—

San and his boyfriend, Jay, turn out to be horrible study partners. You are hardly able to focus from the way your abs hurt from laughter; Jay has a talent for self-deprecating humor.

“You didn’t!” You gasp, ignoring the daggers being glared into you back by other library goers. 

Typically you’d respect the needs of others, but they chose to sit on the first floor; if they needed real quiet they should have sat upstairs where it’s enforced by a graduate librarian with nothing better to do.

Jay nods solemnly, “I threw up on him during our first date. But he,” flinging an accusatory finger at his boyfriend, “insisted we go to some weird food truck so it’s his own fault.”

“You said you liked to try new things!” San defends.

“Not food poisoning!”

Descending into giggles, you feel sorry Seungkwan is missing out on two people he’d get along with. But he canceled at the last minute, leaving you at the large oak table all by your lonesome until you’d run into your classmate, looking for a seat.

From the corner of your eye, you see a familiar someone approaching. White blonde hair and trademark grin, Soonyoung stops at the edge of the table.

“Hey, Y/N” he grins.

Sending him a tightlipped smile you return the greeting.

Soonyoung introduces himself to your tablemates, both just as friendly as he. Thick palpable tension descends into the warm atmosphere and you’re about to rise and get another coffee just to escape it when Soonyoung turns back to you.

“Could I take a look at your results from the last lab? We didn’t get to finish in time.”

The unspoken half of ‘we’ is Dokyeom. 

You hate the flare of curiosity flashing in your head. When you partnered with Dokyeom you always finished on time if not early, even with his joking.

“Ugh, sure.” You agree, digging into your bag for your notebook.

Not waiting for an invitation, Soonyoung slides into the chair next to you, pulling out his own notebook to copy down your answers quickly. But even after collecting the necessary info, he lingers.

“So you’re in lab with us too, right?” He asks San.

“Yeah, but I’m probably taking it again next year even with Y/N’s help.” San smiles.

“And you?” Soonyoung asks Jay.

“No, I took it last year.”

“Glad to see someone can make it out alive! Do you guys mind if I hang out until my friend arrives?”

The friend is definitely Dokyeom but you don’t want to look like a bitch in front of your new acquaintances nor have to explain the mess of your love life to either of them. 

Soonyoung’s self satisfied grin when you flash a tight lipped smile and nod nearly tempts you into strangling him. Why is he choosing to torture you? It’s Dokyeom’s fault no matter how you look at the situation. He tricked you; had you falling for the saccharine persona and ambiguous confessions. Dokyeom rejected you at the cabin for everyone to see, humiliated you, and then had the nerve to act upset when you wouldn’t speak to him.

You try to focus on the worksheet in front of you, a proactive effort to prepare for the final exam still far away. Drowning in extra credit had been an exhaustive effort to get your mind off of your issues but Soonyoung had to ruin it. And now he’s laughing with San and Jay like best friends and it’s all too much. 

Shooting up from your seat, they all stop to stare as shaky hands pack up your materials. “Sorry, I forgot I had a thing. Somewhere else. Bye!” 

Halfway to the door before anyone thinks to question your eagerness to leave, you walk right into another person.

“Shit sorry!” The faceless stranger exclaims as your books and papers go flying.

“No, I should have been watching wher–”

And when you look up, Dokyeom is staring back. 

“Sorry, let me help you.” 

“It's fine!” You snap, scrambling to shove everything into your bag.

You will not cry in the library: not over Dokyeom, not in front of Dokyeom. But once the concrete steps out front greet you the first tear falls and they don’t stop until you fall asleep curled up in your bed.

—

Later that week, in the sanctuary of your dorm, you indulge in contraband alcohol and the hype of your best friend.

“You need to just rip the bandaid off.” Seungkwan announces, arms thrown wide to punctuate his point.

“And how do I do that? I still have class with him!”

“Okay but how much of his stuff is still here?”

“Only like a few things.” you shrug, glancing around the room.

“Oh, really?” Seungkwan asks, throwing himself from his perch on your bed, crossing to the basket full of laundry in front of your closet.  “Because this is a hoodie from his high school, this is the shirt I got him for his birthday a few years ago,” he shuffles around the collection of socks and pants to pull more of Dokyeom’s belongings out. “And I’m pretty sure you don’t wear boxers.”

Seungkwan launched the wad of clothing your way, disappearing into the bathroom in search of more evidence of your ex-friend with benefits.

“You let him keep a toothbrush here?” Seungkwan yells, head popping out with the neon green piece of plastic dangling between his fingers.

It's tossed into the growing pile at the foot of your bed, your rage-fueled focus on the smattering of objects on your desk. 

More cheap wine and outrageous laughter has Seungkwan encouraging you to race across campus and return everything as soon as possible.

Red faced, he steadies you by your arms, “Listen, the sooner you get rid of this stuff the better. You’re like subconsciously holding on to him or whatever.”

Mooney eyed, you nod at your friend’s wisdom, scrambling for a bag.

The tote of Dokyeom’s belongings you’ve accumulated over the months sits heavy on your shoulders; bulging with the assortment of clothes, a spare phone charger, and a book that was severely overdue at the library you’d found under your bed.

Each click of your shoe against the tile floor echoes in the eerie silence as you walk down the hall towards the door of his apartment. The sterile lighting and gray walls are familiar yet alien under the new circumstances you're visiting. 

You won’t be greeted with the smile you’ve grown to miss or the puppy-like excitement that once made you feel special. Both things of the past you hope to forget. No one had your heart fluttering or twisting in knots the way Dokyeom had. But those happy memories are just memories. And the sooner you cut him out, the sooner you can forget them.

Your fiery determination to get over him ignited in the walls of your bedroom had begun to smolder as the chilly wind and movement sobered you up. 

A large part of you hopes it’ll be Soonyoung answering the door, Dokyeom absent for whatever convenient reason as you dumped his belongings and walked away for the last time. Worse case scenario, neither are home and you're left feeling like an idiot, lugging the ridiculously heavy bag back across campus in the freezing wind and rain. 

Worse-er case scenario, Dokyeom is home.

The door to the boys’ apartment is like all the others, but the hot pink “please don’t do coke in our bathroom” doormat stands out. A gift from Jeonghan, if you remember correctly.

A quick rap of knocks announces your presence before you can lose your nerve, stepping back as you wait for it to crack open.

As luck would have it, Dokyeom answers the door.

“Um–” he starts, clearly confused by what he’s seeing.

Shoulders square, back pin straight, you thrust the bag at him. “Here’s your stuff.”

“Oh.” Dokyeom exclaims, still confused, but cradling the tote into his stomach.

“Well, bye.” You turn to leave but stop when he calls you back.

“I can grab your stuff real quick. Since you’re already here.”

It is a horrible idea. Alone with Dokyeom, in his apartment, where the only person to hold you accountable is yourself. But you can be done with this entire mess once you have the hodge podge of items you’ve no doubt accumulated here.

Nodding once, you follow as Dokyeom turns to head towards his bedroom.

Suffocating tension, thick as tar, fills the air. Dokyeom doesn't attempt to replace it with ill timed jokes as he digs in the black dresser in the corner of his room. The bottom left drawer had been long cleaned out of his own clothes, making room for the odds and ends left behind following your rendezvous. 

A sizable pile of clothes lands on his unmade bed, followed by some toiletries you forgot at the cabin in your haste to flee.

Your ears are ringing from the quiet at this point, unable to look at Dokyeom swapping his belongings from the canvas tote with your own. Focusing on your phone, you scroll mindlessly, as Dokyeom works slowly to prolong the torture. He unfolds and refolds all the shirts, lost pairs of pants and shorts, before cramming them into the bag. If you took a second to look at him, you’d see longing glances in your direction with each item he packs away. But you don’t chance it until he approaches you when he’s finished.

“Here,” he says, eyes downcast as he hands you back the full bag.

Lifting it from his hands, you move back to the living room, bee lining for the front door and the sobering cold air outside.

“Wait.”

The smooth metal doorknob is cold against the wrinkles of your palm. All you need to do is twist and it's over. Unlatch the lock, step outside and your relationship with Dokyeom, whatever it may have been, is done. No more crying, no more wondering. Only four more classes and you can leave the mess of the past semester behind you forever.

But you can’t do it. The smallest part of your heart, buried under the weight of anger and sadness, pleads for you to stay. To give Dokyeom one last chance.

You wait for him to say something else, not moving a muscle as you take shallow breaths. Body tense in preparation, you’re afraid you might shake out of your skin. Being alone with Dokyeom was a stupid idea. 

Realizing you're not going to leave, you hear him shuffle closer.

You jump when he speaks again, voice right over your shoulder. “Can we please talk?” 

“What’s there to talk about?” You frown. 

At his responding silence, you chance a glance over your shoulder, met with sad brown eyes. 

“I just—,” he shakes his head, chin tipping towards the floor to examine his socks.

Prompting him again, “What do you want, Dokyeom?”

“You asked me if I liked you… and I do.”

You squash the seed of hope rooting in your chest, afraid that if he tramples it again you’ll never recover. Turning to face him, you cross your arms pensively. His confession should send your heart racing and your cheeks flushing. But why does he sound so sad about it?

Dokyeom scrubs a hand down his face in frustration. “I should have told you sooner but I— I kept waiting for the right time and then that night happened and I thought I messed everything up. But then we started fooling around so I thought ‘there’s no way she likes me.’ You know? 

From where you’re standing, Dokyeom is exactly the kind of guy anyone would go for. Warm as a ray of sunshine, contagious laughter, thoughtful. Excited by life, and brimming with affection for anyone lucky enough to be considered his friend. 

It’s a shame he can’t see himself the way you see him.

“I know all you wanted was to hook up and I was fine with that until you came to the cabin. Soonyoung had to run his mouth, and I thought you were trying to let me down easy in the hot tub so I got embarrassed.”

Biting your lip to stop the rebuttal simmering on the tip of your tongue, you feel the scowl melt off your face, morphing into a questioning gaze.

“You’re like, the coolest person I know. You’re funny and you’re smart and pretty, god you’re so pretty.” he breaths, finally looking at you. “And I feel like every time I get to see you I can’t breathe. And us hooking up made it worse because I’ve liked you since the first day of class when you sat down next to me and smiled at me. I thought I was gonna throw up.” Dokyeom raises his hands in defense as you scoff, quickly clarifying, “In a good way! You just— you make me nervous and stupid and now you hate me.”

He finishes the last part in a whisper, face vulnerable, looking at you helplessly.

“I don’t hate you.” You warble, launching yourself into his arms, tangling your limbs around him to squeeze as close as possible. It’s ungraceful, your head knocking into his chin, his feet scrambling to balance the unexpected shift of weight. But Dokyeom barely hesitates before pulling you into his chest, face buried in your neck while trying to force you into his skin by his arms around your waist.

Two puzzle pieces, carved to fit perfectly together. 

“You don’t?”

Squeezing him tighter, you calm in the thud of his heart and the pine scent of his cologne. You both simply bask in the presence of one another. At a week and a half, this is the longest you’ve gone without the other since you started your arrangement.

Dokyeom presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, sweet as sugar. His lips ghost against your hairline as he starts to speak again. “I’m sorry for the way I acted. I shouldn’t have freaked out on you.”

“I shouldn’t have called you childish.” You apologize, tipping your head back to meet his gaze.

“I mean you were right. I was being a dick.”

“But I wasn’t in any shape to call you out when I was doing the same thing.”

“The same…” Dokyeom echoes, confused.

“If we weren’t so dumb we could have been dating for weeks by now.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?” You smile.

“We really are dumb.”

Pure unadulterated joy takes flight on his face. Dokyeom cups your face in his hands, forehead meeting your own as you smile at him, his own dazzling in return.

“Yeah, but at least we have each other.”

The bark of awkward laughter and shaky words are unstoppable as you cower in his arms. 

“So you’re okay with me calling you my girlfriend?”

“You can call me whatever you want.” You sigh, biting your lip at the idea.

“Even my shmoopie poopie?”

Nose scrunching as you laugh at his ridiculousness, you shake your head vigorously in objection. “You can call me whatever you want besides that.”

“Baby cakes?” He asks, peppering a kiss on your cheek.

“No!”

“Honeybuns?” 

Another kiss on the tip of your nose.

“No.”

“What about–”

A firm press to his mouth silences Dokyeom as you hum.

— 

Soonyoung returns to his apartment after another failed date, eager to shoot the shit with his roommate over a few beers and some video games. But when he opens the door to his home, he finds a trail of clothes flung haphazardly across the furniture, leading straight to said roommate's room. 

No fucking way. Soonyoung thinks. 

Then he hears a thud from behind the door, followed by a familiar laugh he hasn’t heard in the apartment in well over two weeks.

No FUCKING way! He huffs, reaching for his phone.

—

Down the street, Seungkwan smirks as the expected ding of a new Venmo notification shrills through the silence of your dorm:

“Kwon Soonyoung paid you $50.00. – HOW DID YOU KNOW? – Your Venmo balance is now $135.00.”

Epilogue:

Finals season rushes forward rapidly. Two days before you’re set to fly back home for winter break, Chem grades are released.

Another pair of matching As to be celebrated in typical fashion but this time you’re Dokyeom’s girlfriend and he’s sweating like it’s his first time all over again. The night you both confessed had been you last night together. Dokyeom insisted you take things slow, his fear of messing up again forcing him to take caution. 

It's sweet. How he wants to take you out, wine and dine you as if a certain video didn’t still exist on both your phones. And you’d enjoyed the full experience too; walks around campus with interlaced fingers, shy glances in class, and girlish giggles as he offered his jacket on a cold night. The innocent good night kisses dropped on your lips in front of your door that have Dokyeom insisting “just one more” for an hour before he finally lets you slip inside your room.

It’d been everything you dreamed of and more.

But you're both tired of make outs that lead nowhere. Of sitting in Dokyeom’s lap at parties and not letting your hands wonder like you’re both dying too. Waking up in his bed and pretending you don’t feel him nudging the curve of your ass as before he hides in the bathroom to take care of his boner; leaving you to stare at the ceiling, fighting the urge to follow him into the shower and lend a helping hand.

Tonight, you’ve reached the boiling point and it’s spilling over.

“‘s okay?” He asks into the curve of your neck, palms gliding up your stomach underneath the soft cream sweater you’d worn to dinner.

Humming as your head lulls against the interior of his front door, the warmth of his mouth and hands making your brain fuzzy. Tonight, everything feels like more. Your nipples peak at the smallest brush of his tongue, back bowing under the swipes of his thumb against your ribs; even when he pressed a chaste kiss to the back of your intertwined fingers on the walk to his apartment ripped the air from your lungs.

Dokyeom feels the nerves of that first night, but you’re acting like the desperate virgin he’d been. Drooling to touch and be touched. For your boyfriend to string you out one last time before you both return home for a few weeks of winter break only to pick right back up in the new year.

Snaking a hand down his front, you palm the half hard length with a firm pressure that pulls his hips forward like a magnet. A strained grunts sings in your ear as Dokyeom rocks firmly in your grip, pressing you into the wall under his torturous grind.

Turning to nudge your nose into his cheek softly, hot kisses dropping across his jaw as you bid him to take off his pants; pushing them down clumsily. You don’t bother with the brass button or rough zipper, blinded by desperation and simply clawing the stiff material downwards in an effort to get beneath.

You manage to trickle to your knees, slipping through Dokyeom’s hold like water. The hard floor biting into your skin as you kneel before him to mouth at the thin fabric of his boxer. Dokyeom’s elbows land against the wall, caging you in as he watches from above; entranced by the shallow dip of your lips over the covered head of his cock and the lash of your tongue where you taste him through the fabric.

Tonight isn’t the night for teasing, so you have his boxers landing atop his jeans around his ankles in a blink. Tongue following the vein bulging on the underside of his cock as your hand returns to allow your thumb to dig into his slit.

Dokyeom whimpers a pathetic “fuck,” as you play with him, eagerly lapping up his shaft before sucking him into your mouth; hand dropping to cup his balls, the other rest on his stomach to hold his own shirt out of the way.

You missed how responsive he is to your touch, melting in the palm of your hand as he chases the warmth of your mouth with his hips. Anyone who walks by the door would undoubtedly hear what’s happening on the other side, the choked whimpers from you and guttural moans from Dokyeom combining into a lewd symphony.

Head hitting the wall behind you with a dull thud, you let Dokyeom take over; humming as each press forward leaves the taste of his cock on your tongue. There’s something degrading in letting him fuck your mouth like this, sandwiched between his hips and the wall as he uses you to get off.

You gasp for breath when he pulls away, tongue sticking out to bid him back but his slender fingers cupping your chin distract you straight into his lips.

Pulling you to your feet, Dokyeom dips his tongue between your lips as he leads you blindly to the couch. His mouth is nothing but taking; stealing your breath away, your sanity. Things you’d happily let him have if it meant he wouldn’t stop. But Dokyeom was a giver too. A slide of his tongue lit a fire under your skin, fanning the desperation bordering on depravity. 

“Fuck me,” you plead, grinding your aching cunt against his thigh. 

Dokyeom responds by pressing into you harder, teeth tearing into your bottom lip as his cock drools against your thigh, staining your jeans.

You're so turned on it hurts, pussy painfully empty and panties drenched from heavy petting. If Dokyeom doesn’t do something soon, you have half a mind to get yourself off without him.

Dokyeom is trying, fighting to not to blow his load on your leg as you whine and arch beneath him. For him. But when you manage to close your fist around his length, giving a firm tug with the twist around the head you know he goes crazy for, it’s all over. Dokyeom’s core tightens as he spills on your sweater, streaks of his cum ruining the fabric as he pants into your mouth. Your tight grip doesn’t falter as you work him through it, teeth bruising his jaw as he paints you with his seed.

When Dokyeom gains sentience again, he winces in shame.

“Shit, sorry. I didn’t— I wouldn’t,” he tries to apologize, but stops when you part your lips to lap at your stained fingers; eyes trained on the pink of your tongue dipping out to swipe against the tips for taste.

Mouth wide as he stares, Dokyeom thinks he might come again without any help as you suck your fingers. His own dip into the pool of cum dimpling across your stomach, lifting to your mouth to replace yours. Dokyeom groans as your eyes never leave his, heated and heavy lidded as lick them clean and swallow his cum.

Dropping his hand to the back of your neck, he angles your head so his tongue can delve into your mouth. It’s messy and disgusting but you like it and that’s all Dokyeom cares about as he works to free you both of your clothes. He’s stark naked easily, shirt gone over the back of the couch in no time. But your clothes require more focus than either of you are capable of when Dokyeom is on top of you.

His feet hit the ground before he rises to stand, dragging you up to roughly undress you. You don’t seem to mind if the way you fist your jeans down is an inclination. Outer layers gone, Dokyeom finally gets a peek at the early Christmas present you’d been hoping to surprise him with.

Lacy maroon panties and a match bra hug your figure, accentuating your shape in the most mouthwater ways. Eyebrows raised to his hairline, Dokyeom heaves at the masterpiece you present him with.

Drops of your flesh peek through the holes in the lace, teasing him with what’s underneath. The high cut sides of your thong dig into your hips, making your legs look impossibly long and highlighting the sway of your thighs. Straining to pull his eyes up further, Dokyeom finds the bottom hem of your bra. Tongue rolling out of his mouth as the cups push your breasts up and together, teasing Dokyeom with ideas of fucking his cock between them as you lick at the tip.

You look like a goddess and Dokyeom is happy to get on his knees to worship every inch.

Dokyeom catches you smirking at his obvious reaction when he finally looks at your face. Stepping into his space, your fingers find purchase in the short hairs at the base of his head. A cold sweat breaks on his brow as you smile like the cat who got the canary.

“Do you like my outfit, Kyeomie?” You ask, tone deceptively sweet.

If he was capable of any thought beyond cataloging the swaths of naked skin and curves, maybe he’d answer more eloquently than grunting like a caveman.

“I picked it for you.”

Dokyeom lets his hands find your hips, squeezing the plush flesh in his palms as you continue to toy with him. His fingers pluck the thin elastic while his mind wanders down the extensive list of things he’s dying to do to you.

“Do you wanna see the whole thing?”

“There’s more?”

Falling to the floor, you dig into the pocket of your jeans for whatever the last piece of your outfit, if you could call it that. Rising again you present him with a thin piece of ribbon and a silver chain, both causing Dokyeom’s face to twist in confusion.

You prompt him to take the scarlet ribbon, a perfect match to the set you’ve donned, allowing Dokyeom to spot the clasp at the ends and the small silver charm dangling in the middle.

A sun is embossed on the front of the circular piece of silver. And engraved on the back is his name.

Having his name around your throat while he fucked you isn’t a kink he knew existed. But now Dokyeom is pretty sure he’ll be haunted by the idea for the rest of his life. The silver chain still in your hands has a similar charm but with a moon. Dokyeom’s vision goes fuzzy and his brain clouds at the assumption your name is on the back to match.

“Will you help me put it on?” You ask innocently, turn around so Dokyeom can slip what he can only describe as a mock collar around your neck.

Dokyeom latches the clasp with shaky hands, the strip of silk pulled taunt around your neck with each breath. When you face him once again, the charm sits in the hollow of your throat, silver winking at him seductively. 

The icy metal of the chain bites into his skin erotically as you raise to clasp it around his neck. Your nose nudges against his jaw, a ghosting open mouth kiss landing on his jugular as the charm teases the muscles of his chest where it dangles.

You land on the couch with a squeak, taken aback by Dokyeom shredding the delicate fabric of your panties with clumsy hands as he struggles to get them off you. Bullying his way between your legs, he apologizes with a heavenly strip of his tongue through your slit.

He eats you like a man starved, nails leaving crescents in the tops of your thighs as he spreads you so wide the muscles in your hips scream in objection. Dokyeom’s tongue dips into your hole, collecting your essence on his tongue before spitting it back on your clit and digging in. The swollen nub slips against the flat of his wet muscle, and when his lips gently close around it he sucks just the way you taught him to you he’s rewarded with a wanton sob.

Whines fly from between your lips at the torturous pleasure, thrashing as Dokyeom uses all his strength to pin you and place. Spots dance along your vision, expanding as two fingers push past your folds to stretch you out. Dokyeom knows your pussy like the back of his hand and he stuffs you just right with his fingers.

All you can do is squeeze your eyes shut and hold on tightly as you fly over the edge. Racing forward under the heat of Dokyeom’s mouth and harsh thrusts of his fingers till you weep pitifully. You’re floating through space under his attention; mouth open over silent begs not to stop, eyes clenched shut. Every beat of your frantic heart carries satisfaction through tense muscles till you are pliant and boneless.

“Too much,” you whimper, thighs forcing close around his head.

Dokyeom takes it in stride. The combination of your essence and his saliva soaking chin, leaving a damp trail across your body as he kisses his way to your mouth.

His thumb finds the ribbon taunt around your throat, focusing on the piece of metal resting against your skin as you taste yourself on his tongue.

Panting into his mouth, you mewl something vaguely sounding like “want you.”

Luckily, Dokyeom is more than happy to give you whatever you want.

Nodding like a bobble head, he pulls you down into his lap as he kneels on the floor. The head of his cock proddes against your entrance, slipping in just enough for you to take the rest with ease.

The stretch is nothing short of bliss; so deep you can taste him in the back of your throat. Dokyeom fills you perfectly, the small nip of pain from not taking him in the past month only multiplying the satisfaction you feel at finally having him inside you again.

With herculean effort, you rise to allow only a few inches to exit before dropping back down. Hands searching for leverage, you balance on the cushions behind you as you grind into his lap.

Dokyeom doesn’t know where to look, overwhelmed by his options; your face twisted around gasping breaths; or your chest, still clad in your bra, tits bouncing with each movement; or where his cock disappears inside you. 

But the silver heart around your throat seems to snag his focus easily.

Dokyeom isn’t possessive but the way it not so subtly declares you as his makes his cock throb. He’s the only one that gets to have you like this, and you him. The twin pendants remind him you’re his girlfriend and everything beyond slips away as he watches it jerk around with every movement.

Before long, your legs burn from effort, ruining your already unstable motions into nothing more than stuttered ruts. Dokyeom’s hands palming your ass assist in lifting you to the couch, limbs awkwardly sprawled off the edges but he doesn’t slow while your nails scratch deep lines into his shoulders.

“Oh, don’t stop! Fuck, please don’t stop.” You beg, head thrown back into the cushions.

Stopping sounds like the worst idea he’s ever heard. Dokyeom needs this. Gloved snuggly in your heat after so long is the only cure for the constant plague of memories of pestering him day and night. He knows they won’t go away but at least he won’t feel like ripping his skin off every time you're within a fifteen foot radius.

The wet clap of your bodies grows to a crescendo, your orgasm on the horizon and tightening your muscles into a deathgrip on his length. Spots float in Dokyeom’s vision at the squeeze and he drops his mouth to yours to lap up all your high pitched whines.

When he rises again to gasp against his own pleasure, the chain you gifted him dangles right above your lips and a nuclear bomb detonates.

You cum again with Dokyeom’s thumb under the ribbon encircling your neck, a tease of choked breath as he rubs the charm like a lifeline. Voice cracking, earth shatter, mind numb pleasure from the tip of your nose to your pinky toe. 

Dokyeom is babbling over you. Rhythm abandoned as he subjected to the tight squeeze of your worn cunt until that punch to his gut hits. Each rope of cum makes his cock throb as he plows you with a deep thrust, stilling to empty himself inside you.

You're fully crushed into the itchy upholstery as his arms buckle.

“Wow,” you gasp, catching your breath.

What else can you say? A month of no touching culminating into the best sex of your life with your devastating boyfriend while he wears a chain with your name on it.

Dokyeom cackles into your collarbone, chest tickling against yours until he leans back to look at you. 

His hair resembles an electrocuted poodle, his lips are red and swollen, and sweat glosses his skin in the low light. But Dokyeom is glowing with life and happiness and all the things that make the world good.

“I love you.”

Dokyeom responds with a girlish shriek at your impromptu confession. 

“Damn, okay.” You laugh, staring at his bare ass as he runs a lap around the living room stark naked.

“You can’t just— I wanted to say it first!” He pouts before flopping down on top of you.

“Are you serious?” Breathless from his weight, you fail to push him off you as he flails like a fish. “Is that what you’re focusing on?” 

“Yes,” Dokyeom grouches into your cheek. “You’re the first girl I’ve felt this way about and I wanted to…”

He trails off, suddenly embarrassed. Your entire relationship was many of Dokyeom’s firsts. The first person he had sex with, first college girlfriend he told his mom and sister about, and now the first girl to make him truly understand loving another person. It wasn’t something you held over his head, and some of it he didn’t even tell you about but it all tallies up in his mind how unprepared he is for it all. 

“Minnie, look at me.”

You don’t speak again until he finally meets your gaze. 

“I don’t even remember what we were talking about.” You sigh.

Dokyeom doesn’t catch hint, “We were talking about–”

“Nope, can’t seem to recall.” 

Finally, he catches the playful pout and the way your eyes cut back his as you look around the room feigning ignorance. And because he’s Dokyeom and you’re a sucker for anything he does, you can’t stop the smile mirroring his own when softly traces the apple of your cheek with his thumb.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

---

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

[roosterforme]

Old Habits Die Hard Part 4 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: You are a little surprised by your own response when Jeff asks you out. And you really start to wish the study room doors had locks. 

Warnings: Angst, swears, smut, maybe some fluff

Length: 3100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (fuckboy college student Bradley)

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Bradley texted you all day on Sunday. You made him laugh, and he hoped he was making you laugh too. He never spent this much time talking to girls, but he'd never known a girl quite like you before. 

Every time he saw his door, he smiled. Bradley was a little surprised Jeff hadn't commented on it, but then again, Jeff didn't know he called you Sugar. 

Bradley cleaned the bathroom again after Tyson and Janessa were done in there, but he didn't even mind. He was in such a great mood.

Then he alternated talking to you and working on school assignments for the rest of the day. 

He checked his phone to read the most recent text from you. 

Are you going to crash the study room again this week? 

Okay, so you wanted him to. Bradley just wished he could get you there alone. He wondered how you would respond to that request, so he just went for it. 

Sugar, when can I meet you there for a little one-on-one time?

Bradley had to wait a bit longer for your response to that one, but you did finally write back. 

On Tuesday afternoons Jeff has classes while I usually get caught up with reading. 

So Bradley told you he would meet you then. 

He realized that Jeff was still avoiding him by Sunday evening when Bradley greeted him in the living room. 

Jeff just grunted and asked, "Did you have fun with Phoebe this weekend?"

Bradley shook his head while he dropped down onto the couch. "Nah. Barely saw her. I'm interested in someone else."

Jeff just glared at him. "I told you to leave her alone. She's a nice girl. And I'm asking her out tomorrow." 

Bradley took a deep breath to keep from jumping up and shoving Jeff against the wall. "She's sweet. I like her, too. Maybe you're the one who should leave her alone." 

"What the fuck, man? You can hook up with anyone you feel like, but you just have to have her? Why?"

Bradley didn't know how to answer that, so he simply told Jeff, "Ask her out then. Let me know how that goes."

------------------------------

You were in the study room on Monday, wishing it was already Tuesday, and every time your phone vibrated, you felt butterflies in your tummy. 

Bradley had been texting you pretty consistently since yesterday, and you'd been responding like the ridiculous girl you apparently were. You had Jeff right across the table from you, but you couldn't stop thinking about Bradley. Because that kiss with Jeff was terrible. But when Bradley kissed you, it was fireworks. 

"Hey, so what do you think?" Apparently Jeff had been talking to you, but you had no idea what he had said. 

"Um... what do I think about what?" you asked, shooting him and apologetic look for good measure. 

He just smiled and asked, "What do you think about going out with me this weekend? We can skip the party on Friday night and see a movie instead?"

You swallowed down the lump of guilt in your throat. "Uh... I think I actually already promised Bradley I'd be at the party on Friday night." You had told him in a text that you would be there after he had asked. But then you thought maybe using Bradley as your excuse was a bad idea, because Jeff looked outraged. 

"Are you seriously into him?" he asked, looking like he was about to snap his pencil in half. 

You pressed your lips together. You couldn't figure out how to describe the way you felt about Bradley. "He's... "

"A douchebag? A player? Not good enough for you?" Jeff was quick to supply you with some options. 

"Don't be like this," you whispered. "We've been friends for a while." Suddenly you felt like crying as you watched Jeff rub his hands along his face in frustration. 

"Just think about it before you get involved with him, okay? I'll see you later."

And then he was gone. And you had plenty of time to think about Bradley. 

You thought about him as you met some friends for dinner, and you thought about him while you pretended to listen to Janessa talk about Tyson. And you even thought about him the following morning while you were in your extremely boring differential equations class. 

You didn't really care what Jeff thought about it, you just wanted to see Bradley again. His texting had tapered off a bit, and you wondered if he was still going to meet you in the study room. Or perhaps he was losing interest in you already. It was definitely in the realm of possibility that he was still seeing Phoebe or someone else entirely. Even someone with a visual impairment would be able to tell that Phoebe was better looking than you.

But just when you were about to text him and ask if he still wanted to meet you alone, Bradley strolled into the study room and sat down in the chair next to you, his back to the door. 

"Sugar," he said with a smirk, and you were immediately smiling at him. 

"Beer Boy." His soft laugh made your core throb. You were practically moaning for him after he had said one word to you. How ridiculous. 

"You been thinking about me?" he asked with a grin. You could feel yourself blushing. Have you been thinking about him? Only constantly, and especially while you were fingering yourself before bed last night. 

You shrugged. "A little bit. Here and there."

He nodded. "Yeah, me too. Just a little bit." But he was scooting his chair closer to yours. 

"Jeff asked me out," you blurted, and you watched Bradley rub his hand along the back of his neck, bumping his backwards cap and making it crooked.

"Oh," he said softly with a frown creasing his brow. "That's great."

"Great? I told him no."

Bradley's lips parted in a sigh of relief. "Then why did you kiss him last weekend? After we kissed?"

You knew the blush was returning to your face. "Because you're probably not a good idea, honestly. And Phoebe was calling you."

He shook his head. "She's not calling me anymore."

"Oh?"

"Sugar, I painted my door just for you. Nobody else," he whispered, and you leaned toward him until your lips touched his softly. His big palm came to rest on your knee as you slid to the edge of your seat, getting closer to him. His kisses were so soft, just like Friday night. It was like nothing you would have expected from a Beta boy. Bradley was just completely unexpected. 

He rubbed his thumb in slow circles along your jeans as he nipped gently at your lips. You licked the seam of his lips, and he opened his mouth to you. He tasted like mint, his tongue teasing yours. 

His fingers trailed up your neck and tangled in your hair, and you shivered and moaned softly into his mouth. "Damn, Sugar. Seems like you've been thinking about me more than a little bit," he said, examining your face with hungry eyes before he reached down and grabbed your chair and pulled you closer so your legs were slotted with his. 

You smirked. "I could say the same for you."

He mashed his lips against yours before kissing along your jaw to your neck. "Been thinking about you nonstop. You're sweet."

You tried to squeeze your thighs together, but Bradley's left leg was wedged between them. "Bradley," you whispered as he devoured your mouth with more of his soft and simultaneously demanding kisses. 

"Sugar," he whispered against your lips. He rubbed his nose along the side of yours as he asked, "When can I see you again? I need to see you again, but I have to get to class."

You reveled in one more press of his lips to yours as he adjusted himself before he made to stand up. 

"Thursday afternoon?" you asked, your voice sounding breathy. 

Then he kissed your cheek. He actually kissed your cheek before he said, "See you then."

And when Jeff showed up after his class to study with you, it took all of your energy to stay focused on what he was saying instead of replaying your kisses with Bradley in your mind. 

If only you'd had more time with Bradley, you were sure he would have kissed you until you sounded so stupid, just the way he liked smart girls.

----------------------------------------

Jeff was pissed off, and Bradley knew it. He tried to keep a straight face, but it was hard since he already knew you had turned Jeff down. 

"What's up?" Bradley asked as he passed Jeff and Tyson in the kitchen. 

"Hey man," Tyson said as he devoured a bag of potato chips. 

Jeff just grunted at him before saying, "I saw you leaving the library earlier."

"Yeah," Bradley said with a grin while he started making a sandwich. "I like it there."

"You like the library? Or you like her?" 

Tyson froze and eyed them both up as he crunched on some chips. "You guys talking about Janessa's cute roommate?" 

"Mmhmm," Bradley hummed. You were so pretty, and your lips were so soft. He couldn't stop thinking about having those lips wrapped around his cock. Just the idea of fucking your pretty face had him twitching. Even jerking himself off to the thought of you was better for him than any sex he'd had with Phoebe or the other girls recently. 

"Yeah. She's too good for Bradley, but he's going to insist on trying to ruin her anyway," Jeff said casually.

Jeff was being a dick on purpose. But really, Bradley was pretty sure you were the one who would be doing the ruining, not him. 

"You sound jealous, man. You had months to seal the deal with her," Bradley said with a smirk. "Can't perform under pressure? Too much competition?"

"Shut the fuck up."

Tyson was starting to look a little worried as Bradley assembled his sandwich and said, "She asks you to walk her home, but I'm the one who can get her in his bedroom."

Jeff was seething, but Bradley was kind of enjoying himself. He didn't specifically intend to use you as bait, but no way he was going to let Jeff act like he was better than him. Call him toxic, but Bradley was certain he could kiss you, fuck you, and be with you better than Jeff could. 

"She's too good for both of you," Tyson said as he dumped the potato chip crumbs into his mouth. 

-------------------------------------

You had barely seen Jeff outside of your classes since he hadn't joined you in the library at all on Wednesday. He skipped lunch with you on Thursday, claiming he needed to get to class early, so you were solidly alone when Bradley showed up. 

"Hey, Sugar," he said, pausing just inside the door and staring at you. He must have liked what you were wearing today. You'd done it on purpose, of course, and it was already paying off. He took a step closer to where you sat in your short pleated skirt and cardigan. It never hurt to lean a little bit into your nerd stereotype, especially when you figured it would make you unique to Bradley. 

"You look cute," he whispered, never taking his eyes off you as he set his bag down. "Did you wear that for me?"

You licked your lips, stood, and slipped past him to close the door. "Yes," was all you managed to say before his hands were grabbing your hips, guiding you back against the door. You tipped your head back against the wooden surface and looked up at him. 

"You look like a sexy little mathlete." His voice was soft and deep and raspy, and you felt yourself clench around nothing. Slowly he pressed himself against you, his body much bigger and more muscular than yours. "Keep thinking about all the ways I want you." 

You moaned softly, and that was all it took. His mouth was on yours, and he was gently coaxing your lips apart with his tongue. He tasted your mouth, groaning softly as you brushed your fingers along his scars and up into his hair. 

One of his hands was wrapped around you, reaching up the back of your cardigan. The other was inching down to the hem of your skirt. You let him rub his big hand up your bare thigh as he broke the kiss. He watched you, gauging your response to him as he eased his hand up along your soft skin. 

You knew you must have looked so desperate for him, pressed up against the door with your lips parted, but you didn't care. He grinned at you as he squeezed your thigh making you bite your lip.  

He kissed your neck so softly, his lips brushing you there as he asked, "Do you want me too, Sugar?"

You sucked in a breath, thrusting against the front of his jeans in response. 

"You gonna tell me?" he asked, rubbing your leg so softly with his thumb, driving you wild. 

"I want you," you gasped as his lips found yours again. Both of his hands were under your skirt, palming your ass through your underwear and lifting you up. You guided your legs around his slim waist, rubbing your wet, cotton covered pussy against his belt buckle with a loud whine. You'd never done anything like this in your life, and you felt ill-equipped to deal with that fact that you were probably about to fuck Bradley in the study room you'd been sharing with Jeff for months. 

-------------------------------

You made Bradley feel a little possessive. He wasn't the jealous type, never really got attached to anything. But right now, as far as you were concerned, he needed to be the best. 

As he settled down onto the chair with his back to the door, you straddled him and held his face in both of your hands. Your fingernails were gently gliding along his cheeks, softly caressing his scars. Your lips were kissing him as your nose bumped against his in the sweetest way. But you were grinding your pussy against him like such a bad girl, he couldn't figure out what was going on. 

"Sugar," he moaned, and you tipped your head back, exposing your entire beautiful neck to him. He licked a line up from the top of your sweater to your chin and then moved his mouth to suck a mark on the side of your neck. 

"Oh!" you gasped, and he sucked harder. He reached up your skirt, gripping your hips, guiding your movements a little slower as you rubbed yourself on him. His cock was hard and straining against his jeans for you to grind against, and every time your pussy hit his belt buckle, he got to hear you gasp. 

"Feel good?" he whispered before licking the mark he had made on your neck. Such a pretty spot, he hoped to see it when it showed up darker tomorrow. 

"Bradley," you whined as you tipped your head forward to meet his eyes. He watched you, your eyes unfocused as you rubbed your soft body against his. When you started whimpering, he put his lips to yours, enjoying how desperate your kisses felt. He couldn't remember ever wanting someone like this. 

"What do you need?" he asked, easing one hand gently back inside your underwear and squeezing your ass. Everything about your body was a nice handful for him, and he wanted to wear you out until you were speechless. He thought about reaching into his bag for a condom, but you seemed like you were close to the edge without penetration.  

"I just, I need, I-" 

You were babbling now as Bradley smiled at you. "Aww, Sugar. You sound so fucking dumb right now, and I've barely touched you, baby." He kneaded his fingers into your ass cheeks and watched you get off.

"Oh!" you gasped, grabbing both of his shoulders and rubbing yourself up and down his abs while you moaned and cried out, "Oh, my God."

"Fuck, this is hot," he told you with a devilish grin on his face. "If you're gonna cum this good in my lap, I can't wait to get you in my bed."

"Oh, my God," you said once more, covering your flushed face with both hands. "I can't believe I did that." Your hips were finally starting to slow as you let out one more soft moan.

Two sharp knocks on the door, and then Bradley turned to see what looked like a pimple-faced freshman walking into the study room. You gasped and hid your face against his neck, as Bradley registered what you and he must have looked like with his hands still shoved up your skirt.

"I'm sorry! I thought this one was empty!" the younger kid said. 

Bradley just looked at him as he stood there staring. "Get the fuck out!" he yelled, and the kid spun around and rushed out the door. Bradley removed one hand from your soft thigh and reached behind him to slam the door shut. 

You pulled your face slightly away from his neck and looked up at him.

"You okay, Sugar?" he asked you softly. "You really got yourself worked up, didn't you?"

You covered your face with your hands again and whispered, "I am so embarrassed."

He tried his best not to, but he couldn't stop grinning when you peeked through your fingers and started to get up. 

"What do you have to be embarrassed about?" he asked, taking your left hand in his right one and kissing your cheek. "That was fucking hot. I'm hard as a rock right now because of you."

You squeaked and bit your lip. "That kid looked like he was twelve years old!" you said, gesturing toward the door. 

"Yeah, that was unfortunate. Next time I'll have to jam one of the chairs under the doorknob since these things don't lock."

Your eyes were wide and your cheeks were still flushed. "Next time?" you asked softly. 

"You don't want me to help you study again next week? Show you some of the subjects you haven't taken yet?"

A laugh bubbled out of you. "Bradley, I am mortified right now." When you tried to stand again, Bradley held you in place. 

"Don't be, Sugar. I'm gonna see you tomorrow night at the party, right?"

"Yes."

"You gonna wear something cute again? Just for me?"

"Maybe."

--------------------------

Ahhhhhh! Thanks for reading this fic! And thanks to @mak-32 for helping so much with this one! This is for you, Mak!

PART 5

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[memphisfaith]

Hearts of Lust: Chapter 15

Pairing Kim Namjoon X Reader

Genre: Collage!AU, Smut

Word Count: 1.1K

Warning: Cursing, mentions of smut, smut, consumption of alcohol, mentions of violence, violence, crack personality disorders, Chaotic energy.

Warning 2.0: non-specified gender, overstimulation, grinding, blindfolded, muffling, public semi-fucking. Honestly, I really don't know how to tag this since I was dancing on borders and being very vague.

Summary: College is any young adult's prime years, at least that's what Lee (y/n) and Kim Namjoon thought. The two are infamous for two reasons, by two very different crowds. Among the professors they are picture perfect students with perfect scores, attendance, and image. However, among the student body they're the very essence of lust with amazing bodies, sex appeal, and skill. The two, although strikingly similar, butt heads quite a bit with competitions of everything from grades to who can get a person to drop their pants the fastest. With the two of them ready to conquer the school year it's all a matter of Go Big or Home.

Monday came and went, Namjoon and I mostly spent our time working on our part of the project which would be due that Thursday, and we wouldn't be present until Friday. We now have a total of two days to turn it in and three days to get ready and present. 

On Tuesday we put the finishing touches on our half of the projects. Namjoon finalized the information for the PowerPoint while I proofread his essay and presentation speech. I finished the backdrops for the PowerPoint, decided on a leaflet design, and -somehow- created a 3-D model of the reef. Complete with tiny fish, sharks, and coral which are all elevated into the air on toothpicks and skewers.

Wednesday was used to combine the two halves. Namjoon and I put together the PowerPoint, we reviewed the leaflet, and made a rough outline of the presentation. Namjoon approved all of what I had made as well as complimented me on the crab I had stuck on the PowerPoint. I complimented his presentation and I went a little soft when I saw he plans to publicly thank me for my hard work when he didn't need to.

Thursday came faster than expected and when we turned in our project I can safely say that we are in the lead. The only way we'll lose now is if our presentation goes bad and that's pretty much impossible with Namjoon.

Friday finally came, I took extra long to prepare for school. I wore a little more makeup than usual and I had ironed my clothes the night before so they looked more fresh. Namjoon picked me up this morning and on the way we went over a few points for the presentation. 

Namjoon is to give the speech and powerpoint while I am to go over the leaflets and 3-D models. Namjoon used his money to print off over a dozen copies of the leaflet, I haven't seen them complete yet but I can't wait.

When free block opened up Namjoon and I used it to practice our presentation to the guys. They gave helpful feedback and we made last minute adjustments. As of right now we are on our way to our science class. 

Upon entering the class the whole room went quiet. The looks they gave us made excitement bubble up. Namjoon smirks before taking his seat. I took the liberty to look over the 3-D models and the box of leaflets to make sure no one destroyed it.

Thankfully no one is stupid enough to mess with our grade and its all intact. The teacher let all the groups go before us, probably to make them feel like they had a chance so they won't half ass give the presentation.

The presentations were okay, nothing compared to ours. When it finally came to ours a smirk itched itself onto my face. I grabbed the leaflets and began to pass them out as Namjoon put the PowerPoint up.

Once the leaflets were passed out Namjoon began his speech, he spoke calmly and fluidly only pausing to explain each PowerPoint slide that went with the sub topic he was on. On the last slide there was a picture of me, I'm sitting on the floor in front of the aquarium in front of the manatee exhibit. My head bowed and there's a glow on my face from the tablet in my lap.

My eyes widened at the aesthetically pleasing picture, "On our final slide, I would like to thank my partner Lee (y/n) for doing such a wonderful job. The backdrops for the slides and the leaflet in front of you are all personally drawn by her." he smiles charmingly.

 Gasps echo through the room with a few groans of defeat. A smile plasters itself on my face as Namjoon and I switch places, "Thanks Joon," I whisper as we pass each other. I then took my place at the podium where Namjoon once stood.

"Good afternoon, The leaflet in front of you is a small guide to the 3-D model I built in front of you. There are over a thousand different organisms that live in this ecosystem. But, in your leaflet I only mention a few that are commonly known." I explain gesturing to the 3-D model.

"As Namjoon explained, this Ecosystem is the richest in the world when it comes to the diversity of the organisms in it." I smile, "The first section lists the coral I've decorated the base with, All of which are made of clay." I gesture.

"The next section is a list of reef fish, The Reef fish are small plastic models mounted on with toothpicks." I smile pointing to the few in front. "The Reef fish in this area are mostly known for their color and the most popular pick for saltwater fish tanks." I add.

"The Section below that is a list of the main Predators in this area, all of which are made out of playdough and are mounted using skewers  that I've cut in half." I motion. "Such predators include crabs, Sharks, and some forms of fish such as barracudas." I list pointing to each said creature.

"The last section is a list of mammals and endangered species." I smile concluding the demonstration. "I can now take questions," I announce, hands shoot up and I pick the first one. A girl who sits in the back, "You didn't mention the last section," she adds in a snarky tone. 

I hold back the bite I had for her and hide the surprise when I realize I did in fact have another section. I quickly scan it and gasp when I see it's the small history lesson I gave Namjoon about Manatees.

I placed a well practiced smile on my face, "Yes well it's just a little bit of information I found interesting, I thought you would enjoy reading it yourself since this is science lecture not history." I smile but I sent her a glare that no one should notice if they aren't her.

She shrinks into her chair and there aren't any more questions, Namjoon and I bow before leaving to our seats. The teacher then made his way back in front. "Well..." He mumbles sheepishly, "I think it's clear who the winner is," He lets out an airy laugh.

I smirk in victory, I held My hand up to Namjoon for a high five and a clap echoed in the room as he did. The bell rings soon after, Namjoon and I go to our last block classes but as soon as those end I make my way to Yoongi's car to see the whole group waiting.

"So..." Jin starts with a grin, "Are you somebody's slave or did you actually win?" He teases. I scoff and shoot a smug look over to Namjoon who looks just as smug, "Would we really be geniuses if we didn't?" I ask smugly. "Well...I don't know about you people but I say this calls for celebration." Hoseok, grins. "I couldn't agree more." I laugh while climbing into Yoongi's car.

<---- Prev // Masterlist // Next ---->

[soufsidesiren]

blog entry 7: the discipline of rest

it's been two tomorrows since my last entry. i spent monday morning cooking and baking off my 5lb zucchini baby. training at the studio went well in the afternoon. there wasn't really anything in the studio yet so it was brief, but i made a new antiquing friend in my coworker. she's a retired southern woman whose family has lived in this town for generations. after our training, she took me over to this old house and shed turned vintage and antique marketplace and there are sooooo many trinkets. i love anyone who respects and appreciates a good quirky trinket. we've already got plans to go to the monthly antique market together next month. it feels like i've unlocked a vintage shopping infinity stone.

i had plans to head to the city after training, but a headache and my body's strong desire for rest led me back home. as all of the things i have been waiting to accomplish come to fruition slowly but surely. i have been fighting the old feelings that my dreams have to come at the expense of my own well-being. from high school to college into my first full time job i was always exhausting myself and using that exhaustion as an indicator of my success. these days my rest has been a privilege that i have come to know very well. as i am called into action, i am actively working on the communication between my mind and body to shift that privilege into an intentional practice. rest as a strong discipline. a choice. a priority. i am my best self when creating from a rested body and mind and as i enter into life as a full-time artist having access to a full rested creative center is really important.

tuesday i headed into the city. stopping at my new favorite coffee shop for a warm matcha and quick conversation. another connection made across the counter with a community organizer looking for arts instructors to provide educational events for the black queer community in atlanta. we exchange info. another seed sown.

my day at the station is productive. i glaze, trim, and throw a couple pieces. and finally get the ball rolling on my first classes for next month which starts with a couple calls to the ceramic supply center for a quote on the materials i need to start firing the kiln. i leave the station when my body has had enough. just in time to catch the beginning sunset on my ride home. i watch sun tuck in for the night and the thinnest silver of the moon hang between the oranges and blues from my sunroof in the parking lot of steak and shake. belly full. i head to the farmers market to grab some fresh veggies for the week. i've learned to never shop on an empty stomach. i opt for the evening murmur of the after-work shoppers between aisles over my usual curated playlist and headphone combo. a young boy explores the sugar cane, thai bananas, and curious root vegetables with his mother. "what's this ma? can we try it? so this is like a green stick of sugar? how come they don't have this at kroger?" his mother happily accepts each new curious addition to the cart. "just know that you are gonna have to share this with everyone when we get home" i admire her willingness to let him explore. i am remind of my weekend trips to the farmers market with my grandmother. where i learned all the new ways that foods and flavors could exist. the ride home is dark, quiet, and winding. i open the windows and listen to the woods fly by. the plastic bags in the truck rustle from the wind. i come home to my parents and a warm home. settle into a small bowl of soup and tuck in rather early. until tomorrow.

[restapesta]

hi emina! happy last week of no school ♥♥

15. “Finally. Missed you so much.” but make it sort of in front of other people??🙏🙏🙏 if u want. it's okay if not, too!

MONDAY

---

ian (1:11 AM): it's hot as fuck here. can't sleep.

ian (1:12 AM): also, lip snores

mickey (1:12 AM): that's what you get for leaving me

ian (1:13 AM): drama queen, i only left this morning. be back in just a week.

ian (1:13 AM): why are YOU awake?

mickey (1:14 AM): fuck you, just a week. 🖕🖕🖕

ian (1:14 AM): 🙄

ian (1:14 AM): go to sleep

mickey (1:15 AM): you woke me up???

ian (1:15 AM): doesn't matter. just go to sleep.

mickey (1:15 AM): probably not

ian (1:16 AM): ???

mickey (1:17 AM): can't sleep without you

incoming call from ian (1:17 AM)

---

TUESDAY

---

mickey (11:22 AM): college bitch still pissed at us for waking him up?

ian (11:25 AM): isn't speaking to me. bitched about it to fiona the entire morning.

ian (11:25 AM): "can't go a night without him." blah blah

mickey (11:25 AM): fuck him. wyd right now?

ian (11:27 AM): helping Fi with the moving shit.

ian (11:27 AM): you?

mickey (11:28 AM): lunch with tami. bitching about lip.

ian (11:29 AM): 😌

ian (11.29 AM): that same lip is currently screaming my ear off to get off the phone.

ian (11:29 AM): keep bitching, my love

mickey (11:30 AM): tell him to fuck off.

mickey (11:30 AM): also, call me when you're done

ian (11:31 AM): 😘

mickey (11:31 AM): 🙄🖤

(12:57 PM) incoming call from ian

(16:44 PM): incoming call from mickey

(21:44 PM) incoming call from ian

---

WEDNESDAY

---

mickey (09:06 AM): come back home, im bored.

mickey (09:06 AM): Fiona doesn't need you for an entire fucking week.

ian (09:10 AM): 😬 just five more days

ian (09:10 AM): Fiona says hi!

mickey (09:11 AM): I'm horny, this is stupid.

ian (09:12 AM): handy-dandy hand 😁

mickey (09:12 AM): 🖕🖕🖕🖕

mickey (09:13 AM): ...something to work with?

ian sent a link (09:14 AM)

mickey (09:15 AM): you did not just send me the benefits of a cold shower, you bitch.

ian (09:16 AM): loveeeeee youuuuuu

mickey (09:16 AM): 🙂🔪

incoming call from ian (12:33 PM)

incoming call from ian (17:29 PM)

incoming call from mickey (00:12 AM)

---

THURSDAY

---

ian (08:12 AM): I'm horny.

ian (08:13 AM): mickey

ian (08:13 AM): mickey

ian (08:13 AM): mickey

ian (08:13 AM): MICKEY

ian (08:14 AM): babyyyyyy

ian (08:14 AM): pleaseeeeee come on, you're not sleeping rn

mickey sent a link (08:16 AM)

ian (08:16 AM): i deserved that.

mickey (08:17 AM): handy-dandy 🤛

ian (08:17 AM): hate myself at this moment 🙂

mickey (08:17 AM): 🤭😘

-

ian (09:44 AM): coffee on facetime?

incoming call from mickey (09:45 AM)

---

FRIDAY

---

ian (14:22 PM): sorry for the ghosting

ian (14:22 PM): Fiona's been killing me with the whole apartment cleaning shit

ian (14:23 PM): And Lip's hiding from her so he's always with me.

ian (14:23 PM): i know it's been a day.

mickey (14:25 PM): well, well, look who decided to text their husband finally

mickey (14:25 PM): it's been a whole day, ian.

mickey (14:26 PM): we are no longer on speaking terms.

ian (14:26 PM): 😲😨

ian (14:26 PM): i'm sorry.

ian (14:26 PM): i miss having breakfast with you.

ian (14:27 PM): i miss sleeping with you

ian (14:27 PM): i miss kissing you

ian (14:28 PM): and doing other things with you 😏

ian (14:28 PM): miss you so fucking much.

ian (14:28 PM): mick?

mickey (14:30 PM): ugh fine, you sap

mickey (14:30 PM): call me

incoming call from ian (14:31 PM)

---

SATURDAY

---

incoming call from mickey (18:55 PM)

ian (19:24 PM): phone sex is cool, but we should try sexting 😳

mickey (19:26 PM): i don't need a reminder of your disgusting ass dick anywhere on my phone.

ian (19:26 PM): hm? 🤔 not what you were saying ten minutes ago.

ian (19:27 PM): you sure you ain't ready for round two? 😏

ian (19:27 PM): bet facetime sex is even better.

incoming call from mickey (19:28 PM)

-

ian (02:22 AM): i miss you. i really fucking miss you.

---

SUNDAY

---

ian (08:02 AM): flight is at 10

mickey (08:04 AM): i'll be waiting for you when you land.

---

It had only been a week. A week filled with phone calls and text messages and a whole bunch of facetime—but, fuck, it had been a week.

Did Ian really have to go on and visit Fiona alone with Lip? Was it really that necessary for him to travel all the way to the alligator land just so they could help Fiona switch apartments? Mickey didn't see the point of the long-ass trip to Florida just so Ian could complain about how humid it was and how it was a blessing he didn't share a room with Lip anymore.

Mickey missed him. He missed him a lot more than he thought he would, and he really should've considered the fact that he and Ian spent most of their time together. They may have been apart before for long periods of time, but it was hard to tear them away from each other nowadays.

So maybe it wasn't that much of a surprise he'd had a hard time adjusting to the empty space of their apartment and the coldness of their bed. The lack of dad jokes during their long rides at work and the unmistakable scent of Ian that had been slowly fading and was almost gone now.

That was Mickey's excuse for not doing laundry. He didn't wanna lose Ian's smell from their home. The sappy excuse would probably work with Ian, he thought.

And even if it didn't, Mickey could distract him from his annoyance in other ways.

Airports sucked.

Being in an airport, waiting on Ian and Lip with their family of twenty thousand—or six, whatever—sucked even more.

But the plane had already landed and it would be just another couple minutes before Mickey saw his husband for the first time in a week. Before he wrapped his arms around him in a bone-crushing hug. He didn't even give a shit if anybody saw him and thought how big of a fag he was.

Husband. That was the only thing on his mind currently.

"They should be here already," Tami said, bouncing Fred up on her hip.

Debbie shrugged from beside Mickey, one hand tightly holding onto the redheaded girl between them. She was fisting the fabric of Mickey's jacket, and it made Mickey smile. It eased the anticipation a little.

Who was he kidding? There were swarms of bees in his stomach, poking and stinging. He felt slightly nauseous.

"I think I see Lip!" It was Liam who exclaimed.

Mickey didn't see Lip.

But he did see the redhead trailing right behind him, a suitcase in his right hand, recently bought for the trip. His hair was ruffled, and his eyes were sleepy, the jet lag probably hitting him in full swing.

Still, the green orbs Mickey missed so much lit up the moment he noticed Mickey, the corners of his mouth twisting up into a wide smile.

Mickey wasn't any better. He could feel the grin stretching across his face involuntary, yet he did nothing to hide it. Nothing to stop it from spreading. He didn't care to hide the excitement he was feeling upon seeing Ian for the first time in a week.

A week.

His legs moved on their own accord, and in what felt like no time at all, he was engulfed into a hug, Ian's long arms circling him—it was familiar; comfortable, and warm.

"Fucking finally," Ian choked out against Mickey's hair, his lips pressed to the top of his head, cradling his body gently. "I missed you so much."

Mickey tilted his chin up and their lips connected in a brief kiss. Just a peck that turned into a couple more, all loud on the pullback, their limbs still wrapped up in each other.

"Missed you more."

They stared into each other's eyes longingly for a couple of moments—it was probably too soft and sappy for them, but who gave a shit? They hadn't seen each other in a week.

What interrupted them eventually were a few short coughs, as if somebody was clearing their throat.

Mickey glared at Lip, practically forcing himself to tear his eyes away from the man he was holding.

"We done with the reunion or you guys wanna continue making out in the middle of the airport...?"

Ian was the one who flipped him off, finally disentangling himself from Mickey so he could greet his siblings properly and pick Franny up into a long hug. It made Mickey frown, the loss of contact. He forced himself to endure it, though—half an hour of a ride longer and they'd be home alone, free to do whatever the fuck.

Still, as soon as they were done with the obligated reunions and the questions about Florida and Fiona, Ian found himself next to Mickey again, gripping Mickey's palm and intertwining the fingers with his own.

Who gave a shit if anybody was looking? Who gave a shit if Lip was rolling his eyes at the obvious display of affection or if Carl was making obnoxious kissy faces at them as if they haven't been married for a while now—Mickey saw none of that shit.

All Mickey saw was Ian.

[reidingandwriting]

Chapter Two- “no body, no crime”

“No body, no crime. I wasn’t letting go until the day he died.”

Word Count: ~2300 words

Warnings: Drinking (legal), missing person, references to death & murder, mentions of an affair, mentions of guns and blood

Characters Mentioned: Neutral!Reader

Minor Original Characters Featured: Este, Lennox, Mark, Bella, Detective Hooper

A/N: I am soooo sorry for how long this chapter took to come out! Between college starting back up and spraining my wrist in a fall, it’s been impossible to write. But here is chapter two!! This chapter is where things really start to happen, and next chapter we’ll see some familiar faces again 😉 Anyways, I hope y’all enjoy the chapter!

Previous chapter

Next chapter

A few days later…

“I hope you don’t mind, but I might be pre-gaming for our dinner tomorrow.” You had said while on the phone with your friend Este the night before. “The last few days have been.. brutal.” You knew she could hear the shakiness in your voice, the remnants of the tears unshed as you tried to keep them at bay. But she didn’t say anything, and that’s why you loved her so much. 

“Be safe and I’ll see you tomorrow. Drink one for me.” You let out a teary laugh and hummed in agreement as you took another sip from your wine glass. “Love you, Y/N.”

“Love you, too. Goodnight.” “Goodnight.”

You rushed into Olive Garden the next day, a jacket over your head in an attempt to shelter yourself from the rain that started the second you parked at the restaurant. The cherry on top of your day. You fixed your hair haphazardly before you looked around the dining room, and you smiled when your eyes landed on your friend, at your usual booth.

“Y/N, welcome back. You know your way to your spot now, I’ll be right there with your usual.” Lennox, a familiar waiter, said as they passed you, a bright smile on their lips.

“What would we do without you, Lennox?” You offered a smile as you walked over to Este.

“I’m a big fan of the rained-on look, Y/N. Not many can rock that like you.” You rolled your eyes as you sat down across from her, and you took in your friend’s appearance. Her eyes were tired, the concealer applied a little heavier under her eyes than usual. Her outfit looked flawless, but her nail polish on her thumb was chipped. Her hair held their curls beautifully, except for the one curl that had been messed with until it was nearly straight- her nervous habit. 

“Oh, you know, nothing like a little rainstorm to spice up my outfit. Who needs to accessorize when you can get rained on?” You paused as your waiter came over with a glass of your favorite wine, and you thanked them before looking at Este. “You look tired.” You swirled your glass of wine before taking a sip, giving her a chance to speak. 

“I hate profilers, you know that?” She sighed but confessed. “It’s Mark. He’s been… off lately. I think he’s cheating on me.” You raised a brow at Este, setting your glass down to speak.

“Why do you think that?”

“He comes home from work late with the taste of cheap merlot on his mouth, and I got the latest bank statement. I don’t know what he got at the jewelers, but it isn’t mine.” She took a sip of her wine before looking at you, her eyes filled with determination. “I think I’m gonna call him out.”

“Are you sure? You don’t have any solid evidence yet, and I don’t want you rushing into something you might regret.” 

“Evidence? You’re making it sound like he committed a crime, Y/N. He may be a cheater, but he isn’t, like, a murderer.” Este drummed her fingers against the table. “And you’re right. I can’t prove it yet.” She paused as our food was set up at our table and didn’t speak again until the waiter walked off. “But I’ll catch him, and that’s a promise.” 

-

You sat at your usual booth, and you took small sips from your glass of water as you scrolled through your phone. You were distracted though, and it was obvious. Your eyes flickered from your phone, back to the dining room, back to your phone. It had been nearly half an hour since you arrived at Olive Garden, and you hadn’t heard from Este. Este had an occasional habit of running late, but she’d always text or call you saying she was on her way. You checked your messages and voicemail once more and frowned when you saw you hadn’t missed anything. You took another sip of your water as you settled back into the booth. I’ll wait another half hour, you decided.

-

Straight to voicemail. “Este. Call me back when you can, please. It’s been an hour, and I haven’t heard from you.”

Straight to voicemail. You dialed another number, panic beginning to rise in you. “Hi, Eleanor. Did Este come into work today? No? Okay, thank you. Bye.”

Straight to voicemail. “I hope you’re okay, but I’m so mad at you for scaring me like this. Let me know you’re okay, please? I’m calling Mark now. Love you.”

#

“The Fairfax City Police are asking for help regarding the disappearance of Este Williams. Mrs. Williams was reported to be seen last by her husband, Mark Williams, when she left due to an emergency call at work Monday evening. A friend of Mrs. Williams was supposed to meet with her on Tuesday evening, but Mrs. Williams never showed, leading to her husband reporting her missing that night. On screen is the most recent picture of Mrs. Williams and if anyone has any leads on her disappearance, please call the number listed below. An investigation has been opened and a local search and rescue will be organized.”

-

You couldn’t remember how long you had been in your car. You didn’t have a destination in mind when you left this morning, but you found yourself driving around Fairfax, around all of Este’s favorite spots. Sal’s Diner, the botanical garden, Wendy’s Coffee Shop. Everywhere you two frequented you had driven past that day, but there was no sign of Este anywhere. A week had passed since she was reported missing, and the local police department’s presence slowly faded into the usual patrols. Two weeks later, the search party had been called in and seemed to grow smaller and smaller with each passing day. Their discouragement was obvious due to the lack of findings regarding Este, whispers spreading through the streets that she had just left for bigger things. But you refused to believe your best friend had uprooted and disappeared without even a text. She had just been accepted into her doctorate program at Georgetown, she was supposed to attend her sister’s wedding. Something was off about this situation, and you spent your free time looking for anything that could result in finding your friend. 

By the end of the night, you found yourself in her neighborhood. You drove past her house, slowing to a stop when you noticed an unfamiliar car in the driveway. You then noticed Mark’s truck beside the car, the usually dirty vehicle now cleaned to where it almost sparkled in the moonlight. You parked off to the side, and you strained to look into the windows of the home. You could see the brief silhouette of Mark standing, and a woman on the couch. The unanswered call and texts flashed through your mind, and you gripped the steering wheel, your knuckles turning white from the harshness of your grip. Deep breath, Y/N, relax. You took a deep breath and relaxed your fingers, turned your car off, and leaned back in your seat. Not your first stakeout, and it won’t be your last. You knew Mark was involved but you just couldn’t prove it. Yet. And when you can prove it, Mark better pray to every god above.

-

Days had passed since you first started watching Mark. Your days started to blend into a cycle: your new glamorous job cleaning houses, a quick trip home to change, then driving to Este and Mark’s house. There were moving trucks the other day, Mark’s mistress moving in. Into Este’s home, where she slept. The garden she grew was torn out and covered up, every sign of Este ever existing was disappearing day by day. Deep down, you knew you couldn’t do anything to Mark. You weren’t in the FBI anymore, you couldn’t touch him. But all rationality had flown out the window when your friend’s disappearance had reached a month. You had spent hours in your car, waiting for the perfect time to find any evidence that would prove what Mark had done. And finally, an opportunity jumped out at you. 

You had a day off work and you found yourself on the front porch of Este and Mark’s house. There was Mark’s truck in the driveway, and as you knocked on the front door, you had to control your emotions. Feelings of rage coursed through your veins, and you shoved your hands into your pockets. Inhale, one two three, exhale. You are calm, cool, and collected. The door swung open and you plastered on a smile when you were greeted by Mark’s face. 

“Mark, hi. How are you? May I come in?” Mark’s confused expression morphed into a nervous expression, but he nodded and stepped aside.

“Please, come in.” Mark smiled at you, but you quickly recognized the fake smile. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting company. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Just want to talk.” You walked through the doorway, the weight of your gun tucked into its spot in your waistband, concealed by your jacket. “About Este.” You closed the door and locked it behind you.

-

“Bella?” You asked as Este’s sister answered the phone. “I need a massive favor.”

“Of course, anything. What is it?”

“If anyone asks, I was with you today. We spent the afternoon together. Boating.” A pause.

“Is everything okay, Y/N?”

“I promise I’m okay. Speaking of boating, the Potomac River is gorgeous this time of year. We should go soon. This weekend?” 

“Sounds perfect. I’ll bring drinks, you sound like you could use a few.”

“Trust me, B. This is the best I’ve felt in a long time.”

-

A knock on the door interrupted you from your reading, and you walked to the door. You opened the door to reveal a police officer standing on your front step. 

“May I help you, Officer?”

“Detective Hooper. May I come in?” Detective Hooper flashed his badge and you nodded, letting him in.

“Please, come in. Help yourself to a seat, can I offer you a drink?” You asked as you led him to the living room, where you sat on the couch. The detective took a seat on the opposite end, and you sat up straight, attentive.

“That won’t be necessary. Y/N Y/L/N, I was the detective assigned to the case of your friend, Este Williams. As you are likely aware, there’s been no new developments in her disappearance case. Until today.” Look shocked,  you don’t know this. You looked at Detective Hooper with furrowed brows. “What was a disappearance case has now evolved into a murder case, and I believe Mrs. Williams was the first victim, Mr. Williams being the second.”

“What?” You let your head fall back against the couch and screwed your eyes shut. “She’s really- they’re really? They’re dead?”

“We still have yet to find Mrs. Williams, but we received a call that led to us recovering Mark Williams’s body in the Potomac River.” Detective Hooper looked at you with what you believed to be sympathy. The best he could show it with his job, at least. Okay, a little more sad. Your bottom lip trembled as you rubbed your eyes, taking a shaky breath. 

“What are you going to do? To find my friend? And to get justice for her husband?”

“That’s what I’m here for. We have no leads in this case, and you’re the closest person to the Williams, except for Mrs. Williams’s sister. I have a couple of questions if that’s okay?”

“It’s okay.” You sat up. “Anything to help.” You answered a few questions about how you knew the Williams, emphasis on your background with Este, and questions that delved deep into the relationship of Mark and Este. Did they have any problems? Who were their friends? Their enemies? Then the questions turned to you. What had you done the day Mr. Williams was murdered?

“Well, I’d usually have work. Cleaning houses.” You thought back to earlier, where you washed the blood splatter off your face, then cleaned your car to perfection. “But I had a day off. So I went to the docks and got my boat, it was a beautiful day on the Potomac.”

“You have a boating license?”

“My dad made me get one when I was fifteen.” You smiled. “Birthday present.”

“Were you alone?” He asked and leveled you with a look, in an attempt to see if you’d crack. 

“Este’s sister was with me.” You didn’t hesitate. “Ever since Este’s disappearance, I’ve been spending more time with her than I did before.” You admitted. Detective Hooper studied your face for a minute before he sighed.

“Thank you for answering all my questions. If you can think of anything else that could help us solve this case, please give me a call.” He handed you his card and you took it, and you tucked it into your pocket. “I’ll get out of your hair now. Thank you again for your time.” You and the detective stood and you walked with him to the door. As he let himself out, you paused to speak. 

“Detective?” He turned around to face you again. “I don’t know if this is any help, but I’d check into Mark’s mistress.”

-

“An arrest has been made in the disappearance of Este Williams and the murder of Mark Williams of Fairfax, Virginia. Mrs. Williams has yet to be found, but Mr. Williams was found to be murdered. Investigations are still underway and if there are any clues on the location of Mrs. Williams, please call the number below to be directed to our hotline.”

Taglist: @spideyspeaches @ssa-sugar-tits @willowsbendtothewind-blog @lazy-bird-fanfics @spencerhotchner @lolychu @ajeff855 @averyhotchner @meowiemari @liagzs @herecomesthewriterwitch @colorful-quinn @haylaansmi @theroyalsaikou @boring-yet-creatively-odd @drreidsconverse @notyourcupofteax​ @catherine-nelson 🤍 Taglist and requests are OPEN, send an ask/message/whatever makes you comfortable to be added or send a request :))

[whump-town]

Red Fish, Blue Fish

This is for @genevievedarcygranger (i'm sorry you deserve better than whatever this is)

Hank chilling with Hotch but it's sad bc I don't know how to do happy

On Thursday Hank sits out on his front porch with his banana mushed in his right hand and his sippy cup in the other. He waits, as he does every Thursday, for the sound of Hotch’s old Jeep to pull into the driveway. The car doesn’t look like anything he’d drive but it’s one of the last things he has of Haley’s - the Jeep they bought together in Seattle. Her dream car. He drives it now for practicality and because as he gets older silly things make him sentimental. And he just loves this old car.

And Hank loves it even more.

Hank grows agitated - a deep feeling in his stomach making him just as upset as the mashed banana he now wants off his hands. Savannah steps out on the porch with him, having left knowing he’d stay put because he’d never miss Hotch pulling in for anything. She’s got a wash rag and drags the warmed cloth over his face and hands. Taking what’s left of the banana and tossing it into the grass for a bird to eat.

“Come on,” Savannah picks him up. “We gotta get you dressed.” Hank goes even if he’s a little confused. Every Tuesday and Thursday for as long as Hank can remember he’s spent the work day at Hotch’s. Occasionally, (if Hotch has a doctor’s appointment and when Jack has breaks from college) that planning gets mixed up and Hank doesn’t take it well. They come rarely because over the last three years Hotch just doesn’t schedule appointments for those days and Jack is nearly twenty-one and spends his breaks doing other things. Not hanging with his dad.

Hank realizes Hotch isn’t coming when Savannah starts to draw him a bath. He fights her even though he typically loves baths. “No mama,” he tries to push himself out of her arms. He wants to go back to the porch. Hotch can’t come unless Hank is down there to watch for him. “No mama no!” He cries when she’s triumphant and places him down in the tub. “Hops,” he reminds her with fat tears rolling his cheeks. “Hops comin’ mama. Hops.”

She washes the rest of the banana off of him, sighing, and trying not to get upset herself. “Hops isn’t coming baby.” He hadn’t come last week either but Hank had been too distracted by Uncle Spence making a surprise visit to notice. Which was entirely the point of Spencer coming on Hotch’s normally scheduled days. Savannah knew she wouldn’t be as lucky this week. Hank had noticed, he’d realized how long it had been since Hotch came around. And she’d still let him think Hotch was coming this morning. She needed the hour to gather herself, to call Derek, and be certain. To reassure herself of what’s happening.

Hank stops fighting her. His little shoulders drop and he sniffles pitfully as he lets her wash his body back off. “Not comin’?” he mumbles. Hotch always comes. He picks Hank up from DayCare early and they go to the park for ice cream. All it takes is one phone call and, even with other plans, Hotch will diverge his path to get Hank. How many lunches has Hank been to? Eating a banana muffin, seated on the ground, and leaning against Hotch’s leg while he and Emily talk over coffee in some dusty cafe’s bookstore. How many prestigious academy lectures? Laying on the floor and coloring while Hotch guest speaks in one of Reid’s classes.

Savannah stops and looks at her son. His little eyes are full of far too much sorrow for someone so small and typically full of such overwhelming joy. She wipes one of his tears and frowns when he sniffles, rubbing his nose with the back of his chubby fist. “We’re going to Hops’ house,” she tells him, “but you can’t see Hops. Not today, okay?” She cups his cheek, “Hops is sick.”

He didn’t tell anyone. Not Emily the Tuesday after he found out over their weekly coffee. He couldn’t. Not with Hank sitting in her lap and struggling to identify words he recognizes from One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish. Not when he’d dropped Hank off knowing the treatment plan he agreed to would probably mean he’d eventually be too sick to take Hank every week. But he couldn’t say it out loud and make it true.

Last Monday he arranged for Dave to pick him up from the hospital after the surgery the oncologist thought would be minimal and a successful measure to get the cancer out of his body. With its success chemo could eradicate the rest and Hotch would manage to get through the whole mess without anyone having known a thing - the best alternative, in his opinion.

But his heart never does well under the stress of anesthesia.

“Sick?” Hank repeats and he turns this over in his head. Sick. He knows what to do. He nods his head, “o’tay. Gonna help?”

Savannah stops and refrains from the truth which is that there’s nothing they can do. This is all Hotch and the doctors. They’re only going over to his house - you know, she doesn't even know why they’re going over there. Dave and Emily have taken up a semi-permanent residence. Garcia’s bringing food and with Garcia comes Reid because he won’t say no to food. Derek’s over to put up a bar in the shower and he’ll be sucked into staying for dinner and wants her there so he doesn’t have to be alone. With all their normal babysitters there, Hank has to come as well.

With a hesitant nod, Savannah agrees. “Yeah, baby, we’re gonna help.”

Hank packs a bag to keep himself entertained under the helpful guide of his mother. He refuses the books she wants him to take and informs her moodily that he wants Hops’ books and not trucks. He can’t read the books at Hotch’s house but Savannah caves and decides that’s a problem for later. With his little bag on his back, he leads Savannah to the bathroom. Asks for the bandaids - stickers, he calls them - under the understanding that ouchies and fevers are the same as whatever is wrong with Hops and a bandaid will help. Savannah lets him take three. They’re just bandaids and it’s not a big deal.

His bandaids in one hand and his sippy cup in the other, Hank lets his mother put him in the car seat with no complaint. He’s forgotten his mother’s statement about not seeing Hotch and grows eager, excited as they take the familiar turns to get to Hotch’s house.

Derek meets them outside, his tension apparent to Savannah. He’s upset and she gets out, leaving Hank in the car out of earshot while they talk softly outside. Derek wipes his eyes of the tears trying to boil over, frustrated with himself for being upset and Savannah rubs his arm. Comforting him where he almost wishes she’d pressure him to pull himself together. She pulls him into a hug, holding him for a moment while he struggles to get a hold of his emotions. He’s scared and it hurts to see Hotch like this but he can’t and he won’t leave the team here alone. It isn’t fair and they could all use a little of Hank’s magic right now.

But Hank could care less about any of them.

He wants one person and one person only.

“Hank!”

Hank Morgan has had four-years to understand what everyone else around him leans blindly into. There is no need to knock, no shout in warning as he runs for the door of his favorite person in the whole world. His father can’t understand it, no one really can, but Hank loves Hotch. And after two weeks of missed Thursdays with no playing in the garden and napping to the sound of nature documentaries voiced by people with weird accents Hank is eager. He’s blind, he’s desperate and despite his father’s tone of voice he still fully expects to throw the front door open and find Hotch.

“Hank -” Derek tries to grab his son by the shoulders and stop his rapid pace towards the house. But even on baby legs the second he’s placed down on the ground, he’s running. Derek needs to give him a warning for what lies ahead but Hanks is on a roll with his excitement leading the pack. He slips right past his dad giving an excited little shout as he goes. It takes him a second to get up the steps, his legs too short to just run straight up them.

But Hotch isn’t standing at the front door.

Uncle Dave meets him instead on the other side of the door and cocks an eyebrow that’s humorous and light despite the way that the dimly lit living room strangles any chance at a good mood. “Where are you running off to short stack?” He’s not given a chance to answer as he’s lifted up, smothered in affections that he only pays half a mind.

Hank lets them kiss at his face. He limply goes into Spencer’s arms and just holds still while the genius squeezes the life out of him. Not even a single comment when Penelope has to brush tears from her eyes to accept him into her arms. He goes from person to person, answering their silly questions and sitting still with the understanding that he’ll end up with who he wants. He gets to Emily though and there is no Hops sitting beside her. No grumbling Hank has grown accustomed to hearing when the two of them are in the same room.

“Want Hops,” he tells Emily softly because if anyone can tell him where to find his rogue friend it’s Emily. In the way that he knows his mom is always with his dad, that Uncle Spence and Penny arrive in the same car, he knows that, typically, where Emily is there will eventually be a Hotch.

Emily smiles - a smile where her sadness is far better hidden than any of the others - and takes on a teasing tone. “Silly old Hops is taking a nap, ” she tells him with a shake of her head. She redirects him, hopes to distract him. “So, why don’t we go get a snack instead? Penny brought cookies and I think Hops has popsicles.” She kisses his forehead and stands, pulling him along with her. “What’re you thinking? Red popsicle?”

Hank turns over her shoulder, looking in the direction of the living room. He spots Hotch’s room, the door closed and the lights off. There he is, Hank knows. He’s in his room.

“Look—” Emily squeezes him, jerks his attention to the open freezer. “You want a squeeze?” She points to the box of GoGo squeez applesauce. The ones Hotch always keeps on hand for Hank. Typically, he can’t refuse them but Hank isn’t bothered with them. Emily sighs, “alright. Here, let me put you down. We’ll see what he has in the cabinets.” The second that Hank is on the ground he’s walking away. Leaving Emily in the kitchen trying to decide if these smiling gummies are half as good as they look.

Hank goes back to Hotch’s office, fingers trailing down the wall as he goes. He’s heading for the books he knows are for him on the lower shelf. He does take a moment to touch the covers of some of the larger books, ones he can only barely reach. Hotch steers him away from them but Hank likes their deep colors and their golden designs. It only makes him more curious as to what lies inside them. Mostly, he just wants to understand. That curiosity he has to know everything he can about the people around him. How his dad works with a hammer - he’s so strong it’s crazy. What Uncle Dave does with all the foods he puts in the pots and how it ends up tasting so good. And, more than anything else, what’s in these damn books.

Hank has his own shelf full of books that were once Jack’s and others that are a collection of books Hank has left here and ones that Hotch buys him when they go to bookstores. Hank decides on Dr. Seus a yellow book with fish - he has a hard time with the color yellow and as he pulls it down to take it to Hotch he’s excited to inform Hotch on it’s color. Though, he thinks it’s green.

It’s not hard to manage to get back to Hotch’s room, no one’s paying him any attention. Penelope is crying again and Savannah is rubbing Derek’s back, all of them listening to Dave talk somberly. They’re odd, Hank thinks, but that’s okay.

He pushes Hotch’s bedroom door open and is disheartened to find it so dark. No matter how many times Derek assures him there’s nothing in the dark and no matter how many times he’s taken a nap in this very room… he’s scared. Hesitantly, Hank steps into the dark back still close to safety. “Hops?” he asks softly. He can see something move on the bed, the hiss of something softly trailing through the room. Something beeps and it makes him jump and Hank bolts for the side of the bed. Running blindly to the side he thinks Hotch is at.

“Hops,” Hank frantically sweeps his arm over the side. He’s just a little too small to make it up the side by himself but he tries frantically. “Up Hops.”

Hotch coughs, squinting into the dark. He’d heard the door open - removed from himself in a distinctly drugged kind of way. In the back of his mind, the seemingly only alert part of him, assumed it was Dave back with more pills to swallow. Tiny fingers grab his wrist and Hank’s pleading, his fear, cuts through the fog idly. Hotch is pleasantly surprised to find Hank - afterall, he’d been more alert this morning enough to try and fight Dave over his typical day. Dave had been right though, Hotch isn’t well enough to watch after a toddler. Hank hits his side and the world brightens, pulled to focus by sharp pain that steals his breath.

“Please,” Hank cries. “Hops?”

Hotch can’t pull himself upright but he can vaguely make out Hank by his side. Little fingers holding onto the blanket. “Easy, ” Hotch whispers. He offers Hank his hand, grunting when the toddler quickly attaches himself to it. He’s sniffling, still crying as he grunts and struggles to climb up the side of Hotch's bed. His legs are a little too short but he makes up for it with determination. “Almost there, ” Hotch praises, moving his hand and giving the back of Hank’s pants a little pull to get him the rest of the way up.

Hank melts straight into him. Pushing his face into Hotch’s side and holding him, both arms around Hotch’s chest and holding tight. Hotch places his hand on Hank's back, rubbing it until his little sobs die down. “What are you crying for?” Hotch holds him close, ignoring the dull ache across his chest. After being stuck in this room, drugged and laying in the dark, he needs all the help he can get. He needs Hank with all his little questions and his snacks.

Hank calms down, sniffling sadly as he pops back up and rubs at his eyes. He looks down at Hotch, taking in this new situation. There’s a tube snaking around him and Hank can’t tell where it goes in or if it does but he frowns because he knows it must hurt and he doesn’t like that. Even the canal running Hotch’s nose. Gently Hank leans forward and touches it, frowning. “Hurts?”

Hotch shakes his head, “no. It doesn’t hurt.”

With a grunt, Hank adamantly accepts this. Hotch doesn’t lie so Hank trusts him but… it looks like it hurts. Hank leans against Hotch’s chest, curled up facing him. “You takin’ nap?” Hank asks.

Hotch nods his head, “something like that…” He keeps one hand on Hank, keeping the boy from getting too excited and rolling off the bed. Hank settles down close to him, scooting as close as he can. Half sitting on Hotch’s left side facing him. Hotch reaches up, ignoring the pull of his muscles, to place his palm to Hank’s face. “You gonna lay down with me?”

Hank grins and shakes his head. “Nuh-uh!” He pulls out his book, setting it down on Hotch’s chest. He scoots himself along the side of the bed, all clumsy baby movements, until he can move Hotch’s arm around him and lean against Hotch’s side. Putting his back against Hotch and laying his head on Hotch’s shoulder. Pulling his hand around him and into his lap. “Read?” he asks, cracking the book open and showing Hotch the page.

He hasn’t got a lot of energy, feels himself slipping with the simple strain of talking and watching Hank move in the dark of the room. He’s ashamed to admit, to even think, that he can’t sit up and hunt down his reading glasses and get through a simple children's book. Not even with Hank twisting around to look up at him like that. “You know the words, buddy.” Hotch has read it to him so many times and Derek even more. He gets a kick out of saying the words before them, and knows what each page says. “Why don't you read it to me?”

Hank frowns, looking at the book, and back at Hotch. He wants to read the book but he doesn’t know how. “You’ll help?”

Hotch smiles and nods, “of course I will.”

Hank settles back down and opens the book. The room isn’t really bright enough but Hank can see the page well enough. He skips the first page. There are big words and not enough pictures. “One fish,” Hank touches each fish as he goes. “Two fishes. Red fish and blue fish.” He looks back to Hotch and he nods, he’s right. “Black fish and blue fish and old fish and baby fish and green--”

“Yellow,” Hotch corrects softly. It’s not important that he’s getting the words wrong so much as the color. “It’s a yellow fish, see?”

Hank nods and repeats after Hotch. “Yellow fish and fish with a car.” He flips the page and lays his head down on Hotch’s side, curling up closer. He sits up, “can I have blankets?”

Hotch nods and Hank cheers softly and sits up. It takes him a moment but he scurries down beside Hotch, tugging the blanket up around him. “Comfortable,” Hotch asks and Hank frowns, trying to figure that out. It takes him another moment and Hank knows what it is - he sits up and pulls Hotch’s arm around him. Letting him lean back and he nods. It makes Hotch laugh a little, smirking. “Good.”

Hank lays his head back down on Hotch’s side and opens the book.

Derek finds them ten minutes later. Hank is just looking at the pictures, humming softly to himself as he traces the fish with his finger. Hotch is asleep, breathing not sounding any better than it had before but the room feels brighter. Things not so dense.

"I wondered where you ran off to," Derek whispers as he steps in.

Hank looks up from his book, "found Hops."

Derek nods, "yeah, I see that." He won't move Hank just yet. It's as calm as Hotch has been since he came home and Hank is being good. It keeps both trouble makers out of everyone's hair. "Will you watch him for me?" Derek asks playfully. "Seems like you're doing a good job."

Hank nods, attention going back to his book. "Yeah, I'm watchin'."

Derek leans over the bed and kisses Hank's head. Stopping for a moment and just looking at Hotch. His face pale and his breathing still not right.

"Hops is okay, daddy."

Derek clears his throat and nods. As he's walking out he hears Hank start the book over. His soft voice reading out, "one fish, two fish--"

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Oh oki “fire and brimstone” for Jameson maybe?

CW: Some talk about fundamentalist Christianity from perspective of someone who left and had a bad exprience with it, memory loss, backstory hinting for Jameson, recovering whumpee, mentioned domestic and child abuse

“Every Sunday, rain or shine,” Jake is saying, the skillet in front of him sizzling so loudly with the frying crumbled-up sausage that he has to raise his voice to be heard. “All of us right there for Sunday School at 9, service at 10, on a good day we’d walk back out at noon to go eat.”

Jameson watches him, and thinks, I didn’t come down here to hear your fucking life story.

They’re the first two up, the sun rising in pinks and purples slowly giving way to blue. Jameson had stayed in bed for a while, watching the sky turn gray first, thinking of Allyn’s eyes. 

He’d padded down here to get something to eat, only to find Jake already in the kitchen, pulling out a cylinder of breakfast sausage wrapped in plastic, heating up a flat black cast-iron skillet. Jameson hadn’t asked, but Jake had said it was a gift from his mother.

Pretty sure you’re not allowed to move out where I come from without at least one. Jake’s voice is cheerful, sparking lemon bursts underlaid with something deeper, darker, that Jameson can’t name. Something smoother. 

He’s trying to be friends, Jameson thinks, and he doesn’t want to be friends, not with anyone, but... his mouth is watering at the scent of the sausage cooking and there are biscuits already in the oven, warm dough smell overlaying everything else. 

White Lily Flour, Jake said, patting the bag of it on the counter. I was raised right.

Jake’s lemon voice took on a hint of bitterness. Jameson wonders, sometimes, if he tastes changes in emotion, or if it’s just his brain malfunctioning, sparking off-key. He thinks he tastes the right things. Nobody’s ever asked him about it. He’s never told anyone. 

None of this - baking, cast-iron cooking, church - means a fucking thing to Jameson.

Except... it sort of does.

“Some days,” Jake says, pushing the sausage around with a wooden spoon, breaking up large clumps that are still pink in the center, “We didn’t get out until one. Just depended on what he was pissed off about that day. Then Monday my dad had men’s group, my mom had women’s group on Tuesdays, we had another service Wednesday night - short one, though. Then Youth Group on Fridays once I was old enough... I wasn’t in it for long, though. We left a few months after I was old enough to join.”

Jake stops, for a second, staring down at the sausage. He picks up a small measuring cup and shakes out some flour, stirring the sausage round as it picks it up. 

“Your family get sick of all that fucking sitting?” Jameson asks, just to fill the silence.

Jake swallows. “Nah. Just my mom and I. Got sick of all that fire and brimstone being aimed at us.”

Jameson’s eyebrows come together. Jake’s voice dips, caramelizes, the lemon is sticky-sweet and feels like fuzz sticking in his head. There’s something here he doesn’t get, and he definitely doesn’t give a fuck, only... 

He leans forward. “What’s that mean?”

Jake turns the heat down on the stove, and Jameson watches the gas flame flicker and become smaller. Then he pours milk in from a carton Jameson drank out of yesterday, not that he’s telling anyone, and watches as it heats.

The timer over the oven dings. Jake pulls on his oven mitt and pulls the tray of golden-brown biscuits out, setting them on a folded towel to cool on the counter while he finishes up the gravy. 

For a second, Jameson thinks Jake isn’t going to answer him.

“My Papa - dad’s dad - was head of the men’s group. He’d been a church deacon for decades, preacher’s right-hand man. Nana Stanton ran music, played the organ, organized the choir. My dad was everybody’s favorite son, you know? Preacher and his wife had six daughters. My dad was prob’ly supposed to marry one of them. He married Mom, instead. My mom and I... we caused trouble for him.”

This is weird, and yet Jameson can’t stop the sense that the hair on the back of his neck is standing up. Something is whispering to him, from deep in the recesses of his thoughts. He doesn’t care.

He has to know.

“Trouble how?”

Jake takes a breath, lets it out. Slow exhale. “My Dad’s a piece of shit, that’s all you need to know. Spent a whole fucking bunch of my childhood in the ER, for me or for Mom.”

Jameson feels himself rock forward, like a hand clapped him on the back too strongly, like the handler slapping the deep red welts just to listen to him moan, right on cue, in reply. 

Me, too. I did that, too.

No. False memories are a result of the Drip, of training. He knows that. He knows-

Wait, no, it wasn’t me. It was-

I had to-

Slid a piece of paper across the table with what she needed to escape, money for college and an apartment and a plane ticket as far away as she could get, happy birthday, you got this, never think about this bullshit family again, and the woman sitting at the desk had smiled and said, I think we can make this work for everyone involved, Mr.-

“... needed help,” Jake is saying, as he cooks down the gravy. It had boiled at some point, now he’s simmering, stirring as it thickens, adding salt and pepper. “But they told Mom she should strive to be fucking Godly. That it was better for her to fucking ‘stick it out’ because marriage is fucking sacred. Nobody told my dad not to be the goddamn devil to his wife and kid, you know?”

“Yeah,” Jameson whispers. Jake’s voice is dark now, the lemon is nearly buried by something thick and black with anger. It slides over Jameson’s mind, smooths out the thoughts he is trying desperately to hold onto.

Jake glances over at him. Whatever he reads in Jameson’s face, he sighs, softly. “Sorry, man. You didn’t ask about my bullshit. Sometimes it just... gets to me all over again. Usually whenever my dad manages to manipulate my grandparents or something into giving him my p.o. box address again.”

The headache arrives, swift and sudden, and Jameson closes his eyes against the flash of light, the thunderclap of pain that follows on its heels. 

Jake fixes him a plate of biscuits, gravy piled high, and it smells so so good and Jameson takes his first bite with the sense of a hard wooden bench biting into his spine and the pastor’s voice droning and she was holding his hand, the two of them, knowing this was the last time they’d be here, together.

She sat in church with the plane ticket he’d bought her in her pocket, hidden from them all. He’d held her hand with his heart in his throat, thinking about his brother.

Was it worth it?

What was it, anyway?

Jake sits down across from him, and Jameson looks up through the throb of pain to see those blue eyes focused on him, concerned. “You all right?”

He’s back to lemon, bright and tart, slightly browned from sugar and heat. Like a candied slice on a cake. But Jameson feels the steady rush of a river underneath, flowing under mountains, gradually wearing away the very earth that keeps them standing. 

“I’m fine,” Jameson says, and takes a bite.

What had he done, when he signed up for this?

Who had he done it for?

---

@astrobly @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @whump-tr0pes @raigash @moose-teeth @orchidscript @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @endless-whump @eatyourdamnpears @boxboysandotherwhump @vickytokio @outofangband @downriver914 @justabitofwhump  @thehopelessopus @butwhatifyouwrite @yet-another-heathen @wildfaewhump

[havethetimeofyourstyles]

in which you study in a different country and meet someone along the way.  

hi lovelies! this is my fic for miss olivia’s @bfharry​ boyfriendathon! i’ve had this concept for a year now, and i’m so happy i was finally able to write it!

thank you to @bopbopstyles​ @stellarboystyles & @avhrodite​ for beta-ing! <3

enjoy 7.5k words of friends to lovers & uni!harry & boyfriend!harry !! also the story is supposed to go semi-fast since it is mostly flashbacks, the sparkly breaks will tell you when the flashbacks start and end! 

i’ve made a playlist for this fic! if anyone would like to listen while reading click here

please please leave feedback! super excited for this because it’s probably a fav of mine and i’m really proud of it, so i would love to know what you think! a reblog, comment, and/or ask would mean a lot! <3

The birds were chirping and the sun was beaming on you, leaving a glow to your skin that had shined ever so brightly, giving you a healthy and lovely tint to your skin. It was a lovely day that there was not an ounce of complaint in your mind because of the beautiful weather Mother Nature decided to provide you with, knowing that you hadn’t gotten perfect weather for the past few weeks. The trees and grass were as green as ever as slight wind rustled between the leaves, making the sound of the crisp leaves loud. 

It was a moment like this where you felt so happy and grateful to be in a beautiful city; that you had made the right decision. The London view and atmosphere does not compare to any other place in the world, aside from the fact that you haven’t been to many places in your life. But you’re a bit biased on your opinion because London graced you with your boyfriend, Harry. You remembered the first time you came to London just two years ago, and you never imagined how your life had planned out until this very moment. 

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

You had stepped on the plane with nervous thoughts running through your head. It was the first time you ever rode a plane, and your destination was hours away, practically a full day. It was a major step, and you probably should’ve thought it through; maybe traveling to the next state, but to travel to another country was a big step for you. 

It wasn’t a vacation, more like, school in a different country for a few months. You had decided to study abroad when you were in high school, wanting to get away from home and also learning in a brand new place without the toxicity hanging onto your foot as you try walking away. It had taken a while to finally study abroad because the requirements of you needing to finish your first year of college before you could study in the fall. 

Your family hadn’t taken it well, but you decided that there was nothing you could do to stop them. You were going to pay for the trip and your expenses all on your own. It definitely helped that you got a scholarship to go to university in the first place, and lucky enough to live on campus away from home.

You were sad that they didn’t feel an ounce of happiness for you, and you had asked your cousin to take you to the airport, being the only person to bid you goodbye. The feeling was overbearing and overwhelming, making your heart sink but at the same time feel full with sadness. At the time, you had felt like everything was holding you back and you just wanted to get away. 

A new start was needed. 

It was August when you traveled alone to London. Anxiety was boiling in your throat as you craved the need to hold onto something as the ride was quite bumpy, making you sweat and shake. But you survived, and you were at your new home. At least for the next 4 months. 

It wasn’t a hard decision to decide to study abroad, but you really hoped you met good people and made friends. It had always been a struggle making and keeping a good batch of people in your life. You had thought it was easy to make friends during your time in London; no one knows you and they don’t know your insecurities. So, you thought it was going to be easy.

And luckily, you were right. 

You had met your three best girl friends, all that you had shared a small place with. The common room had held so many memories between the four of you, and you felt so immensely grateful for them. Late night talks and laughs while drinking wine and eating snacks were some of your best memories. You had missed the common room greatly. 

One night, Tanya had suggested a night out on their first week there, “let’s all go out with the guys tonight! I already met Peter, and we talked about going out, so we could introduce you to everyone!” 

The girls and guys were stoked for the most part, and you were excited too, but also nervous, hoping the guys had found something interesting about you. 

And that was the night you met Harry. 

Some of the students that went to university in London shared a dorm with the abroad students until they left. Half were in the art program and the other half was the journalism program. Two of the girls in your dorm, Donna and Sophie, were in the journalism class, and you and Tanya were in the art one. You had wished everyone was in the same class, but that made get togethers and dinners at night way more fun because it had felt like everyone had so much to catch up on, and the fun was at the highest level. 

You had seen Harry approximately twice within your first week, but it was merely just from passing. But that night was the first proper night you hung out with him and everyone else. 

You couldn’t deny that he was insanely attractive. Just at first glance he had that sort of charm to him that was irresistible and alluring, wanting more after he was done talking. He was a bit on the quiet side when you met him, but learned that he started getting louder and talkative once you warmed up to him. He was outgoing and fun, the life of the party once he had a drink or two in his system, and when he does have some liquid courage, he gets cuddly and affectionate. 

“Do you want another drink?” He asked in his buzzed state. 

“I think I’m okay right now, and who’s going to take care of you when you keep having more?” You teased. It was definitely the alcohol talking because you would have never voluntarily teased someone like that. 

“Well, we have a few people in our group.” It had made your heart flutter when he said ‘our.’ You had never had a group of friends to call yours, and although it was only the first week, you had known they were going to be a group of special people close to your heart. 

“Our friend group is also drunk off their asses, so I think there needs to be a responsible person right now, and that is me,” you put your hands under your chin and started fluttering your eyes innocently. Harry thought you were the most charming and sweetest girl he’s ever met, and it had only been a week. 

“Okay, whatever you say, missy,” he teased. You held back your big smile, corners of your lips turned up. 

“Go get your drink. I’ll wait here,” you pushed his shoulder slightly towards the bar with a chuckle. 

“Ooh, bossy. I like it,” he said with a wink before he headed towards the bar. You were lucky that he had already left to get a drink, or else he would’ve seen your face turn into a light red shade, flustered from his actions.  

As the night went on, Harry had practically clung onto you when he was buzzed, and never let you go until everyone walked back to the dorms. 

“No, don’t wanna leave ya,” he whined a bit when you tried handing him off to his friend. “Nooo, don’t make me go with him,” he pouted as if he was a child. You had gigged, thinking he was the absolute cutest when he was drunk (and not drunk) as he clung onto you until you physically had to put him in his bed.

His arms were still tight around you, your body was laying slightly on top of him. Lazy smiles and droopy eyes were made at you, causing you to chuckle. 

“Mmm. Hello,” he said with a giggle. 

“Hi. You okay?” 

“Yup. Perfect. You know...you’re very pretty,” he says as he smiled. Although he was drunk, Harry was telling the truth. 

“Thank you.” And although he was drunk, it still made you smile. 

“Mhm…” he mumbled in response. The silence between you two was enough to lull him to sleep; arms were still around you. 

“Goodnight, Harry,” you said against his forehead, giving him a small kiss as you tried your best to slip out of his hold. 

That moment had changed everything. 

The two of you had gotten closer after that night. The next day, you bumped into him in the lobby of the building and he asked if you wanted to walk to class with him. 

You laughed about it with him as you walked, “you were so cute last night.” 

“Yeah, M’sorry about that. I get like that when m’drunk,” he shyly said. 

“No need to apologize. I’m glad you had fun,” you said with a smile. He had smiled back at you as he felt the butterflies in his stomach flutter around. 

You and Harry spent almost everyday after class together or in between classes for a quick bite to eat. There was a usual coffee shop near the building that you would always meet each other at on Mondays and Wednesdays. On Tuesday, you two would walk together to a fish n’ chips spot for lunch. On Thursdays, it was a sandwich shop. Fridays you saved your outings for that night as everyone got together on Fridays. 

“We could make this our thing, y’know?” Harry suggested. 

“Fish n’ Chips Tuesdays?” You beamed at him. 

“Yeah, and coffee shop Mondays and Wednesdays, and sandwich shop Thursdays,” he was quite nervous getting that out, but he managed to do it with a smile. 

“That would be nice. Don't you think you would get tired of me?” You teased him, raising your eyebrow as you took a handful of fries and shoving them in your mouth. You hadn’t realized, at the time, how unattractive you might’ve looked, but Harry couldn’t help but smile and fall deeper. 

And he never got tired of you. 

Aside from having lunch and coffee everyday together, you had taken him to art museums. He wasn’t horrible at trying to interpret art, but looking at you beside him as you gazed at the art above yourself was something that he was fond of. He smiled every time you got lost in the art as you studied it, passionately looking up, trying to figure out what each piece means to you. It was admirable, really. 

“You’re gonna be up there one day, watch,” he had whispered to you as you were in a daze. You chuckled as you looked at him, seeing if he was messing around. He wasn't though. He had seen your paintings and sketches, and thought that you deserved to be hung up high in the gallery. 

“You’re sweet,” you smiled and he put his arm around your shoulder, bringing you closer to his side. The affection had made you blush, thinking how you were falling for your best friend. 

After two months into studying abroad, you felt the happiest you’ve ever been. Aside from the constant moving around and trying your best to explore every part of the city, you felt like you belonged there. All those years living, you felt like you weren’t truly living, and being in London was possibly one of the best decisions you’ve ever made. 

You felt at peace. You were calm, and genuinely happy. Your head wasn’t racing like it was back in your hometown, and you weren’t anxiously looking over your shoulder, realizing that no one really is after you. 

The group decided to take a trip to Paris for the day, and the rest of the days would be spent hitting up a city or two. Everyone had the week off; a bit like spring break as you finished the first half of studying abroad. Everyone was super excited, and you haven’t been to Paris before so it was going to be a new place that you could check off from your list with your favorite people. 

It was a two and a half hour train ride from London to Paris, so you had loaded up a two hour playlist for the ride. 

At the time, it seemed like everyone knew that you were crushing on Harry, except Harry himself. When everyone boarded, the only seat empty was the one next to him. You weren’t mad, in fact, you were thrilled that the seat next to him was vacant. When you sat next to him, his eyes beamed, glad to see you, and you looked over at your friends as they gave you that teasing eye look while you rolled your eyes. 

“Anyone sitting here?” You asked and he shook his head no, giving you a small smile to sit down.

Everyone was still tired, considering it was 7 in the morning, and the group wanted to stay in Paris for the entire day. You yawned and Harry looked at you, giving you a soft smile. You grabbed your earphones out of your purse, handing one earphone to him and placing the other in your ear. In that moment, Harry was so happy as you two listened to Frank Sinatra on the way to Paris, placing your head on your shoulder and his on your head as Frank lulled you both into a nap before your adventure together. 

The entire day was eventful, but exhausting. With everyone on their feet, they were all ready to crash and luckily it was nearing sunset before the last train of the day. 

The last touristy place was the famous Eiffel Tower. Everyone had decided to get some wine and snacks as the whole group sat on a big blanket in the grass area in front of the Eiffel Tower. The sun was slowly setting and the guys were playing with a soccer ball, passing it around as the girls drank and talked; music playing from the speaker Sophie had brought with her.

 You took a mental picture of the scene around you; the people, atmosphere, and the feeling. And you had softly smiled, thinking these are the people in your life that are going to be in your life forever. Despite the fact that half of you had to go separate ways, there was a certainty in your head that everyone will always end up back together again. 

The sun had fully set and the lights on the Eiffel Tower had turned on as it started twinkling, lighting up Paris since the sun had gone tired. The guys were getting tired as well, so they sat with the girls. Harry was on your right side, arm behind your back but he didn’t touch you as it rested on the blanket and he leaned on it. 

“Dance with me,” he whispered ever so softly in your ear. You turned towards him and he smiled. 

“Right now?” 

“Yes, right now. Please, dance with me,” he pleaded and you nodded. He had immediately gotten up and helped you up. 

‘A Sunday Kind of Love’ by Etta James began playing softly as you and Harry swayed. Your arms were around his neck and his were around your waist. Chests pressed together as you had felt his heartbeat that pounded through his chest that gladly traveled to your chest, making your heart beat in sync with his.

It was silent between you two. There were no outside noises interrupting your bubble as you two ignored the eyes your friends were giving you. It was just you and Harry, the music, and the Eiffel Tower that captured your love and kept it for memory sake as you swayed under the moonlight. 

Harry had pulled away from you, looking so intently in your eyes, fondness gleamed out of them.

“Be mine,” he said softly. “I’m fallin’ for you, and I’m fallin’ hard. Please be mine already?” You were about ready to cry in that moment, but tears glossed your eyes.

You nodded and he beamed, “Only if you agree to be mine as well because I’m falling for you too,” you added. 

Harry immediately nodded, “I’ve been yours…this whole time.”

“Harry…” 

“Yes, darling?” The pet name had come unexpected, but you loved it nonetheless. 

“Kiss me.”

He took your face in his hands, brushing away the strands of hair that had covered your pretty eyes before capturing your lips with his. The molded between your lips and his was perfect, like they were meant to be kissing Harry’s. Your hold on him grew tighter as your tongues touched for the first time. It sent shivers down your spine and made the hairs on the back of your neck rise. 

It was a moment that would never leave your mind and you two would cherish it forever. 

It had been two weeks since the group arrived back to London from Paris. Two weeks since the best day of your life, and you and Harry were attached at the hip and at the heart. It had been so easy to be around him, and you couldn’t believe he was your boyfriend. Your boyfriend.

You’ve been falling for him ever since the day you went out with everyone for the first time and clung onto you like a koala. But you were glad to be that tree for him that night. 

The regular dates hadn’t stopped. You two acted the same around each other, and that was because of the friendship before the relationship. And you were able to hold his hand while walking down the street and kiss him against the wall of an alley.

It was the third month of school, and everyone was swamped in midterm studies. The amount of stress everyone had was enough for an entire school year because of how fast paced the program was. 

It neared eleven at night in the boys’ dorm. Everyone’s heads were in their books or typing on their laptop, papers scattered around them. For the art program, you had to visit various museums and look for a painting that defined the meaning of Impressionism art along with a 2,000 words that went along with the painting. 

Multiple yawns passed through the room, and everyone was exhausted. 

“Alright, I’m done for the night. Can’t do anymore studying,” Tanya said as she started packing her things up loosely. 

“Yeah, think we should call it a night,” Cade suggested. 

A series of ‘goodlucks’ and hugs went around the room as everyone packed their things up, and the girls went off to the dorm as you were still packing, wanting a minute alone with Harry. 

“Stay the night?” He had suggested, and you turned around and stopped fixing your things. 

“You want me to?” 

“Yeah. Think I’ll sleep better with you here and m’all stressed out.” 

“Okay,” you replied back, thinking that you would sleep better with him as well. 

As you two got into bed, Harry had played music on his phone, saying that it had helped him sleep and it was a habit when getting into bed. You noticed that you and Harry had the same love for Frank Sinatra as he hugged you to his chest. 

The two had laid there, not even closing your eyes to try and get some sleep. But rather, staring at the ceiling, running your hands up and down each other’s skin. 

And the moment you had leaned up to give him a kiss, you two couldn’t stop there. 

Hands that roamed your body had made that electrifying feeling stronger, pulling him in for more. The passionate kisses that you two traded had triggered each other’s arousal as he hovered over you. The pull and undressing of each other’s clothes while ‘Strangers in the Night’ played had left you wanting more and more of him. 

“I’ve never done this before. Like any of this,” you whispered. 

“Do you want to continue? We don’t have to if you don’t want to--I’m definitely fine with just kissin’ ya,” he said with a smile, causing you to beam at him being a gentleman. 

“Yes, want this so bad, baby.” You responded quickly, feeling very eager. He smiled in return and continued what he was doing.

He had asked you throughout the experience if you were okay with everything, and when you told him ‘yes please, give it to me’, he made sure he got you ready for him; rubbing your button and fingering you to your high, something you’ve never experienced with another person. 

It was the reassurance that Harry had given for your first time, and the constant questions of making sure if you were okay and if you were comfortable when he slowly pushed into you, trying to make sure he wasn’t being too hard with you because of his hard and big length. 

“So good for me,” he whispered out, kissing your lips. 

“Feels so good,” you had moaned out, never experiencing this type of feeling before. The pleasure had taken over the stinging feeling of your Harry entering you for the first time. You two were connected in a way you’ve never felt before. 

The soft whispers of praises that fell from your lips, and your arousal and orgasm prior that lubricated Harry’s thrusting, had made him feel so many things. He wanted to last for you, he didn't want this moment to end. Scratches in his hair and down his back had encouraged him to continue as you moaned his name in his ear, and he pressed wet kisses to your neck as he grabbed your breast. 

Two strangers in the night who had no idea of each other’s existence just three months ago. They had no clue of what their life was going to become when they met each other. It was the way you looked at each other that he knew you weren’t going to be just a stranger to him. Although he had a bit of alcohol in his system, he knew in his heart that he was going to find that sort of comfort and caring personality when he started talking to you. 

Harry continued to make love to you as the moonlight was seeping through the blinds, like the love that seeped through your veins for each other. He brought you both to your highs, and the only thing that was heard was the hushed moans and groans that came out of your mouths that could signify the love you have for one another.

It was that moment that changed everything. 

The fourth month had approached sooner than you would like. 

You and Harry hadn’t discussed what was going to happen when you had to leave, but you had hoped that you could make long distance work. 

The feelings you had for him were nothing you had ever felt before. It had made you cry out of happiness in random times, but also made you want to scream because of how too good to be true he is. 

He treated you like a queen. Making sure to give you as much love as you could handle, but sometimes a little more because he couldn’t hold it in. 

Throughout the weeks, you had learned so much about him and him, you. You didn’t think there was someone in the world that was so kind and caring; someone who shares similar passions and likes the same things you do. He was an angel sent from above, and you wanted to keep him for as long as possible. 

One night, you two shared your pasts together as you laid in bed together after a session of love making and a few rounds of hard fucking per your request. 

The fear you had inside of you was trickling down with your words when you had told him your insecurities and stories of your family that you wanted to forget. But he took everything so well; never looking at you for your insecurities, but only for your heart. 

“They weren’t very really supportive of me--of what I wanted to do. They just expected me to follow what they wanted, and I didn’t like that…” His hands roamed your skin innocently, comforting you and let you know he was there for you. “I was already miserable there. I didn’t want to be even more miserable doing something I hated. So I went against their demands and they said they weren’t going to pay for anything. But luckily I got a scholarship, and moved away from home.” 

“I’m proud of you for doing that.” You looked up at him as he continued. “It’s admirable to see you chase your dream and do what you want to do, despite being told by parents who don’t support you. You’re strong for that, y’know?” You hadn’t responded; just took in his words of support and comfort. You kissed his chest, leaving soft and wet kisses to his skin. 

It was like you couldn’t get enough of him. The magnetic pull that you had between you had grown, making the force stronger than ever, and you never wanted to leave his side. 

As the last few weeks of studying abroad we’re coming to an end, everyone was focused on finals. There weren’t that many dinners or nights out at that moment, but everyone had time since the people who lived outside of England had a week before they had to pack up and leave. 

One night as Harry was in your room, studying on the bed as you were writing a paper for your final project, he had suggested visiting his hometown. 

“Darling, I have a question,” he perked up. You looked at him and nodded for him to continue. “You could say no and that would be totally fine, but how about we go to my hometown this weekend? We could even study over there. It’s less noisy and it’s not a hussle and bussle kind of town. I just want you to be able to see where I grew up.” 

You smiled, “Sounds nice. Where are we going to stay?” 

“Figured we could stay at my mum’s? She’s got a great backyard, or we could explore and I could take you around,” he said with great hope. Your heart fluttered, Harry wanted you to see where he grew up. He wanted to show you every corner of his hometown. 

“Oh…at your mom’s. Is she going to be there?” The thought of meeting his mother had scared you. You had never met anyone’s parents, and it was the nagging thought in your head telling you that you were going to mess it up. 

“Yeah, but we could get a hotel or something-”

“No! I would love to stay there, and I would love to meet your mom.”

Harry smiled, giving you a kiss to your lips before grabbing his phone and texting his mother.

The train ride to Holmes Chapel was about two and a half hours. 

You suddenly had a fascination with trains as you felt like it kept you calm while you watched different towns and buildings pass by. 

With the speed of the train, it had felt like you were in slow motion. Your eyes tried taking in everything you saw, capturing every moment of what you want to remember. And Harry is in a lot of those images. 

Holmes Chapel was very welcoming and warm. Despite the weather, it was warm. It felt like home. It was a small town and everyone seemed to know the next person, but you loved every part of it because it was where Harry grew up. 

His childhood home was even lovelier. Maybe it was because of the fact that Anne lived there and Harry grew up there, but she was ever so sweet and welcomed you in with open arms. 

She had taken a liking to you immediately, telling you childhood stories of Harry and his sister, Gemma, that only family knew. Harry was ultimately surprised at how quickly Anne opened up to you. He knew his mother was kind, but she kept to herself and didn’t speak when she was uncomfortable, so to see his mother laughing loudly with his also somewhat shy girlfriend, made his heart burst with love. 

Harry had watched them sit at the dining table, sharing stories as he leaned against the kitchen counter as he wore a robe to keep him warm while smiling so big that his jaw physically started to hurt. 

He’d never had felt so loved and had never loved anything like he does with you. It surprised him how fast he fell for you, but it was quite possibly the easiest thing he did. There was no judgement in the relationship. You had kept him grounded and helped him when he was going through a rut when writing. 

The only thing that was bad about the relationship was the distance that will be put between you two when you leave to go back home. He didn’t want this to become a fling, to have a time limit. He knew exactly what he was getting into the day he asked you to be his, and he didn’t want to let go of you. 

And he truly hoped you felt the same. 

Just after you and Harry were back in London after visiting Anne and his hometown, finals had approached rather quickly. You had had a great time spending a little time with his mother, and you think she liked you very much. There were countless conversations and laughs that you will never forget. 

“Can I ask you something sweetheart?” Anne asked. 

“Of course,” you said, and you had been nervous as to what she was going to ask. 

“You mentioned that you were leaving just before the holiday, but I just wanted to ask where that leaves you and Harry. Are you two still going to be together?” A frown had made an appearance on her face, resembling your own. 

“I would like to. We haven’t spoken about it, but I’m sure that conversation will happen soon,” you had answered honestly.

“You still would still want to be with him?” You nodded in response. “That’s great to know. I like you a lot, and Harry has taken quite the liking towards you as well, but I just didn’t know if it was some sort of abroad type of relationship; someone to just keep you company in a new country-”

“No, it’s nothing like that! I know it’s only been almost two months of our relationship, but I love him, and I would never let him go. I didn’t want to study abroad to have a relationship, but he stumbled into my life so unexpectedly and I don’t have plans of letting that kind of love go.” 

Everything you had said was the whole truth. You weren’t expecting a relationship to come out of this, but you’re so immensely happy that it did because Harry walked into your life. Although you hadn’t known him for a very long time, quality overruled quantity. The connection you two had made within the few months meant something deeper than a fling. 

Anne smiled and nodded, like she was appreciating you and her respect for you had increased. The topic was over, and it was onto the next that was followed by laughs. And that entire time you stayed at her house, Anne knew exactly why Harry had fallen in love with you. 

The last week of being in London had come very quickly, and sadness was an understatement. 

The people who were leaving had decided to start packing the things that they didn’t need and weren’t going to use anymore, so they had extra time to spend and go out with everyone because packing your things for four months plus the things you bought wasn’t all that fun. 

It was Monday morning after finals when you had heard your phone buzz on your bedside table. You had groaned as it felt like you had slept for only 30 minutes. You debated on whether to check it in your sleepy state. The buzzing had stopped, making your thoughts turn off, but started back up once again and you figured you should check it. 

Harry was calling you in the early hours of the morning. It was 6 a.m and if it were anyone else, you would ignore it. 

“Harry? What’s wrong? Are you okay?” You had mumbled once you answered the phone. Harry chuckled, but also fell deeper in love as you were just as caring as you were awake. 

“Darling, m’fine! M’actually outside of your dorm. I didn’t want to knock and wake everyone else up, but get up. We’re going on an adventure,” he said in a hushed voice, and you practically heard his smile through the phone. 

“Harry…” your eyes were still closed, exhausted from your slumber. 

“Please, baby. You won’t regret it.” 

And you didn’t. You never regretted anything when it came to Harry. 

You had gotten up and dressed warm enough for your adventure, and met Harry outside to which he rewarded you with a hug and kiss, thanking you for putting up with him. 

You both got in Peter’s car that Harry had begged him to take for a little bit, and luckily he agreed because the tube wasn’t running at that time. With Harry’s arm in your lap, you leaned on his arm as you closed your eyes until he took you both to your destination.

It was still a bit dark out, but it was way past the starry night it was a few hours ago. The sun was just about ready to rise, and the early bird got the worm. 

Harry had held your hand as he led you both up to top of the Primrose Hill, showing the beautiful London city. It had taken you both a while to get to the top, due to you being extremely sleepy still and sluggishly holding you both back. Harry had set a blanket down for you two to sit on, and you immediately snuggled into him. 

“Don’t fall asleep on me, darling. We have a sunrise to watch,” he said, leaning his head down and caressing your face. 

“Mmm. Tired,” you grumbled. 

“Please? It’s your last week here,” he said sadly, and you wished you hadn’t complained that you were tired because hearing his tone had almost broke your heart. But that woke you up slightly, realizing that you didn’t want to miss another moment with him. 

The sky had gotten a little lighter, and Harry checked his phone for the time, about 30 minutes till the sun started to rise. 

“Tell me something,” he said. It had been a thing you two did when you started hanging out. It was sort of a confession time; either can say anything you want to say and the other will listen. 

“I’m going to miss you so much that the thought of us not being physically next to each other will hurt so bad,” you confessed. 

“I’m going to miss you too.” 

“Baby, you don’t understand. My heart will completely break once I part ways with you at the airport. I cant handle it, Harry,” your body had completely faced his, and he noticed your eyes were swollen from the lack of sleep and the incoming tears. 

“Hey, I know exactly how you feel. You’re not the only one who gets to feel like that,” he said more seriously. “But we’re gonna get through this, okay? We’ll do everything to make sure we make it together,” he had placed a hand on your cheek. 

“You want this right?” Your insecurities had gotten in the way and you needed reassurance from him, and Harry knew that and didn’t ever complain to give it to you. 

“Of course, baby. Never gave you a reason telling you I didn’t want this, right?” You shook your head, tears had made its way down your face, and Harry had shared the same tears as you. “Then don’t worry. Everything’s going to be fine. I’ll make sure of it.” Harry held you to his chest and you both cried in each other’s arms. 

The sunrise was as beautiful as ever that morning, screaming for a new beginning as the sun illuminated the sky into an orange and yellow glow. The new beginning was right in your arms as you held him tighter while tears fell down both of your faces, feeling powerful and stronger together as you two poured every emotion and energy into each other. 

Harry was your sunrise and your sunset. 

You wanted to spend the beginning of every morning with him and have him be the last thing you see before you are pulled into a deep slumber, dreaming of him for hours until you see his face again and make him your reality. 

And you both were going to make it. 

The ride to the airport was long and filled with silence as words weren’t needed at that time; only the hurt because of the love that was so strong that nothing could come between you two. Not even distance. 

You already missed the whole group dearly, and the last dinner with everyone was bittersweet. It was an emotional one as everyone talked about their favorite times and laughed at memories of drunken stories. And at the end, everyone raised a glass. 

“To the best group of friends out there.” 

“To a talented ass group of artists and writers.” 

“To love, laughter, and the pub.” 

“To new beginnings, but never endings.” 

Everyone cried and hugged each other, making the moment last forever, but it was definitely not the last time. 

You slowly walked with Harry, hand in hand as he rolled your luggage, to the area where you both had to part your ways. He had kissed your hand and head multiple times until you stood facing in front of him. 

The embrace you two shared was the most gut wrenching feeling you had ever felt in your life, and it felt like your heart was physically breaking along with Harry’s. 

Your hearts had always been in sync, beating as fast as the other or filling in beats for one another when one of your hearts had skipped a beat. Being without one another would feel like a missing beat in your hearts, and you needed the other to fulfill it.

“This is not goodbye. It’s never going to be goodbye with you, okay?” Harry’s voice croaked and you nodded, too afraid to speak as tears spilled out of your eyes. 

You were breathing deeply, knowing you should go through TSA already as you both were trying to spend every last minute together. 

“Tell me something?” Harry had asked one last time in person. You thought hard about it, wanting to make it the best one he’s ever heard. 

“I love you, baby.” 

He gave you a small and sad smile as more tears formed in his eyes, “I love you too. So much, darling.” 

And then you were off.

Harry had watched you walk away until he couldn’t see you anymore before he had sulked back to his dorm, crying all the way back. He felt empty without you beside him. With spending everyday with each other for the past four months, it had felt like a punch to his chest when you had left. 

When he had gotten back to his room, he noticed a large square board wrapped in festive wrapping paper with an envelope attached to it. 

‘To my lovely Harry, 

Thank you for loving with me, laughing with me, and living with me. You’re the best person I’ve ever come to know, so I hope you enjoy this piece that was dedicated to you (and our group of friends). I’m so grateful you’re the person who has my heart.

I love you and miss you so much. 

Yours forever.

The tears hadn’t stopped since he saw you leave, and they kept on coming as he opened his present.

Sitting in his hands was your final project along with your paper. It was a painting of his hand holding a heart as blood dripped from it. He noticed it was his hand because of the various rings he wore. The London Eye, Big Ben, the Eiffel Tower, and the pub were at the aorta as a plane curved from around the heart. The background was painted as an orange and yellow color, symbolizing the sunset. 

Harry sobbed and hugged your painting to his chest, feeling as if it’s the last thing he has of you for a while. He picked up your paper and read the title. 

‘The Power of Being Vulnerable’ 

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And so you were sat on a floral blanket, two years later; setting up your lunch, and taking out your sketchbook along with your supplies. You had brought your painting easel, in case it wasn’t going to rain, and you’re glad that you brought it because the weather was just gorgeous enough to paint outside for a while.

Before you went to the park, you had time to make a quick and small charcuterie board that was filled with Brie, prosciutto, crackers, and honey; a snack that would take up your time under the warm sun. 

You started sketching your drawing until you felt a familiar pair of lips against your cheek behind you. 

“Hi, darling,” his raspy voice that had brought you immediate peace said in your ear. You turned your head, and saw the beautiful smile beaming down at you before sitting down and meeting you at eye level, giving you a kiss to your lips. 

“Hi, baby.” 

“Sorry I’m late, quite the line at the sandwich shop, but I got your favorite as always.” You smiled after him, thanking him for waiting in that line and for the food. 

“It’s okay, practically just sat down a few minutes ago, and set everything up.” 

“Okay, good. By the way, you look absolutely beautiful,” he took off his sunglasses to give him a more clear look. You were wearing a dress that complimented your skin tone, making your eyes enticing that he couldn’t help but fall more in love.

“Thank you, my love. You look so handsome,” you complimented back, leaning in to peck his lips. Harry was wearing a plaid button down flannel, black jeans, boots, and a fedora. His hair has grown much longer over the past few years, and you honestly love it. One day, you had told him that he looks like a prince to which you earned a blush. 

“Gonna paint, my darling?” 

“Yeah. Nice weather out today, so definitely going to.” 

“Can’t wait you see what you put together,” Harry smiles, making the dimples that you love so much, pop out. 

You and Harry spent the rest of the day together before it was time to head to dinner with the six other people that had changed your life. It was something simple like sitting on top of the same hill you were at two years ago that made your heart flutter. With his head in your lap as he read a book, occasionally stopping to scratch his head and give him a kiss to his forehead, and you sitting upright painting away as he fed you crackers and cheese, you would have never known this is how your life would turn out. 

You were extremely grateful for the years you were given to be with Harry and your group of friends that you love so dearly. You were a shy girl, scared of being scared, hardly opened up to anyone. 

But that same shy girl blossomed. She blossomed into a beautiful woman who was being praised and treated like the way she should. The man beside her had reminded her every single day that she is a stunning and caring person that deserves the world and more. She eventually started to believe it herself. She began to start seeing herself that way. She woke up and looked in the mirror and started to remind herself that she was beautiful and that she was going to take over the world. 

The affirmations had come from opening herself up to people who genuinely cared about her. Because being vulnerable isn’t bad whatsoever. 

It allowed you to let go of whatever pain there was inside your heart and leaned onto someone so they could hold your pain as well because you finally weren’t alone. You finally had people who loved you and needed you. 

You had opened your heart up all those years ago, and it led you to the best thing that’s ever happened to you. 

With two years of loving each other and two years of long distance, you had opened up your heart to the most special man in the world. The constant tears of missing each other from the other side of the world. The need to feel his touch. The tiring plane rides every four months to visit him, until it was his turn to visit you. The care packages. The long FaceTime chats. They all led to the best hugs when you reunited with Harry. 

You would travel the world and back if it meant Harry was your destination. 

And it was where the world took you that led to your forever. 

feedback is appreciated here! <3 also i would love to take blurbs for this and write more about them, so please let me know what you like to read!

[socratesofthesocketset]

It has been...A Weekend guys. Yes, I sort of know it’s Tuesday now. My sense of time is even more screwball than usual because I just got a bonus week off work...as a prize for getting covid. -_-

My roommate tested positive friday. I figured my number was finally up then, but my ex kindly opened up his house to me and my kid so hopefully we could avoid it. My kid is probably fine since they had it so recently, but who even knows anymore. We had a lovely weekend, Paul had his kid through Sunday morning before she went back to her mum’s so our kids had a blast playing together. I ended mother’s day with an ice cream cone as a treat since I was finally tolerating food pretty well again (that’s a whole ‘nother story. My GI issues have been bad enough to land me an upper endoscopy last week.)

Sunday night I wasn’t feeling 100% but I’d been kinda wobbly and off after the endoscopy anyway...but Monday I woke up feeling like hell and sounding like I gargled rocks for breakfast. My voice was down in the register that reminds everyone that I really did sing tenor in college, and I tested positive.

So far Paul is negative. We talked through our options and decided I’d move back home today so I’m back in my own space again to recover. Yesterday was kind of miserably spent on his couch dozing and scrolling my phone and not doing much, it’s good to be back with my bed and desk chair. My breathing isn’t awful, but I’m exhausted, everything hurts terribly, and my heart rate skyrockets if I do so much as stand (literally, standing heart rate of 130 bpm) Laughing sounds like I’m dying.

I’m keeping my fingers crossed that Paul and his kid didn’t pick it up from me. She was testing through the end of last week after her babysitter getting it already. All the time away from Paul, all the time of staying away from his kid, all the vaccines, and masking (I never stopped even when the mandates were dropped) and my worst fears of possibly giving it to him/them are maybe coming true. I’ve tried so hard...(and got so far, and in the end it didn’t even matter...sorry lol) and literally came down with covid while living in his house.

On the up side, the weather is freaking sunny and gorgeous which helps, and I have a new lego set Paul bought me a couple weeks ago that I haven’t opened yet so I have something to poke at when I feel up to it. I think I might take a morning nap now though. Hope y’all are doing good and staying healthy!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Never Too Late 2

Warnings: noncon sexual acts (later in series)

This is dark!Steve Rogers and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’re turning forty and life seems to be forging ahead on its one way track, that is until you meet Steve Rogers.

Note: Things are... going. But I’m doing my best.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

It was about time you started doing something. Past due, you’d say. Your body was screaming for it. You were no longer the college grad who could sit and eat potato chips to her heart’s desire. Or the thirtysomething in denial of the looming 4-0. No you had stepped upon the threshold and you felt and saw the changes which came with another decade.

And yet, the simple act was daunting. Your old beat up sneakers squeaked as you descended the stairs of your building to the street. You wore a pair of thin track pants you’d bought years ago on the unspent whim of a New Years’ resolution. Your sports bra was new and uncomfortable; the tank top a bit too tight for your liking. 

You did your best to stretch outside. You kicked your foot up against the brick and lunged a few times forward and back. Your muscles were stiff from inactivity; from years of neglect; from time. You hopped in place as worked up to your departure. 

You began at a slow jog. You reached the first corner out of breath.

You were old. Accept it.

You continued and wove your way to the park where few others paced themselves around the fountain and winding paths where happy owners walked their happier pets. Another breather as you gasped. The sweat gathered under the cotton shirt and created a humid tent in the pants. 

You gripped your hips and stared ahead. Keep going. You pushed off your heels and bent your arms as you fought your way through the tension in your chest, the burn in your lungs, the ache in your knees. One day at a time, it would get easier. You hoped.

You wondered how you’d manage to fit in your new regime on workdays. A morning run would mean even earlier days; likely shorter nights. You’d have to make it work. You didn’t have another ten years to wait around; if you did, it might be too late to change.

You were tired. Of the years passing like second. Of the tedium. Of nothing happening. Of failed hopes. Of pointless relationships and temporary stability. You weren’t where you wanted to be and you’d likely never get there but there were other desires in life. Other achievements to be made.

Your mother could resent you for your singleness; your lack of familial bliss. She could not begrudge you entirely. Not if you bettered yourself. Not if you turned it around and tried. Not if you set aside your passivity for proaction. Because it was your life, not hers.

When you got back to your building, you were ready to collapse. The old elevator was still out of order. It’s old grated doors marked with an X of tape and a handwritten sign. You dragged yourself up the stairs and stumbled inside. You downed a glass of water and splayed over your single armchair. Your heart slowed as you flipped on the television and checked off day one in your newly downloaded app.

👟

Day two. Exhausted and still sore, you made yourself go. You had an hour before you had to be back to shower and ready for work. The day seemed even longer ahead of you. Eight hours at a desk in pain, dealing with the frustrated public. It was worse than you could imagine. Your night was spent with an ice pack and half-dazed.

Day three, four, five. A tic in your phone which barely felt worth it. Six almost saw you giving up as you ambled around work with splints in your calves. Seven, another day off, but you still had work to do. You pulled on your freshly washed track pants and a loose tee. The last days of summer approached but the heat had yet to relent. 

You took your usual route to the park. You stopped at the entrance and stretched a second time. You found it was helping. The pain was duller, the aches less spread out. You set off and found your step. A week and you could already see the ounce of improvement. Well, inside more than out.

You measured your breaths as you neared the curve shrouded in trees; leaves still lush and aromatic. Soon enough, they’d darken and drop. Time was like footsteps. Each one forward took you further from where you were and yet you could feel like you were standing still or come to a startling stop that left you hurtling into the void.

Like then. Your worn treads slid over the ground as you collided with the unexpected runner coming your way. Your eyes had been above him, staring at the rounded tree tops and their sprawling branches. On the early morning hues that cast the sentinels in a placid mural.

You stumbled back, your hands reaching back to catch yourself but you never met the ground. Two thick hands caught your upper arms and steadied you. You looked up, both surprised and not by the face staring back at you. Both familiar and not. After so long in the city, the last two weeks had seen as many run-ins with Steve Rogers. More, now.

“You,” He smiled as he slowly released you, his fingers tickled your arms. 

“You.” You echoed dully. 

“Small world,” He chuckled.

“New York isn’t that small,” You said. “You must think I’m some weirdo.”

“Or maybe I’m the weirdo?” He ventured. “Didn’t peg you as a runner.”

“Wow, thanks,” You scoffed. “And I’m not. Well, wasn’t. New hobby.”

“New?” He raised a brow.

“One week,” You shrugged. “Not much and I’m sure once it’s cold, I’ll go back to my sloth,” You said. “Uh, sorry about… wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Not at all. Neither was I.” He smiled. 

“Well, I, uh…” You looked past him, “Have a lot to go.”

“Can I join you?” He asked. You squinted at his eagerness. 

“Weren’t you going…” You pointed over your shoulder.

“I just do circles,” He said. “Doesn’t really matter which direction.”

“I’m not very fast.”

“It’s not a race.”

“Alright,” You threw your hands up, just wanting to get it over with. “But if you feel like leaving me behind, don’t think it’ll bother me.”

“Come on,” He turned so he faced the same direction. “It’s always easier with company.”

You exhaled and righted yourself before you fell back into a jog. He kept pace beside you. You could smell his sweat. You tried to keep your breathing quiet.

“I used to run with my pal Sam but… he joined a gym.” He said. “So, new hobby?”

“Hobby is putting it… nicely,” You huffed. “More like trying to make up for my own laziness.”

“It’s never too late to make a change,” He preened. “You got any other hobbies? Maybe something you enjoy more?”

You glanced at him. Your chest hurt but you didn’t want to slow down.

“Cross-stitching? Tetris?” You offered. “Nothing special. Just… life.”

“How’s work?” He asked.

You were silent as you kept running. You listened to the sound of your foot falls as your breath came faster.

“I--” You came to a stop and turned to him as you touched your side. “Forgive me for being a bit--confused but--” You gulped. “Don’t you have friends? Super friends?”

“Co-workers,” He said and his hands went to his hips. “Oh, maybe you already have enough friends then.”

“Look, I’m forty, I work the same job I had sixteen years ago, I live in a box, and I’m falling apart,” You shook your head. “Not many people are trying to be my friend. All my friends have families; obligations.”

“Well, it sounds like we have a lot in common,” He grinned. “So we should be great friends.”

You frowned. His optimism was irksome. His refusal to be rebuffed more so.

“Friends?” You repeated darkly.

“Maybe just running buddies?” He suggested. “I do get a bit lonely out here with just the chipmunks.”

“Steve.” You uttered.

“And I think you need someone to keep you on the right path, hmm? I’ve been told I’m a great motivator. Bit of a hard ass but I’ve got a talent and I use it.”

You considered him. He was right. An app wasn’t going to keep you going forever. Already, you were tempted to drag the little icon to the bin. Already you were tempted to sleep in. Already you were succumbing to failure. 

“You sure?” You asked.

“What time do you usually run?”

“Well, weekdays, I head out at six, back home at seven, then off to work,” You explained. “Weekends I get an extra hour of sleep.”

“Alright,” He turned and set off. You followed. “I can’t promise every day. Lots of work out of town but weekends at least.”

“You really don’t--”

“Maybe if you start saying yes, you’ll find what you’ve been looking for,” He intoned. 

You grumbled and pressed your lips together. He was right. You hated that he was. Something about this man both intrigued and disturbed you. He was kind but with a hint of pushiness. You just couldn’t decide if his insistence was merely clueless or something more deliberate.

👟

Another week and the mornings were easier, though the days continued to drag. Steve met you again on Monday and Tuesday but Wednesday he was gone. You didn’t mind so much but he returned on Saturday. He waited for you at the park entrance, a wrapped box in his hand. You were curious but not nosy.

You slowed as he greeted you.

“Hey,” He smiled. “I didn’t realise until after I’d gone that I had no way to tell you I’d be away.”

“It’s fine.” You assured him. “Think I managed just fine on my own.”

“Work,” He said. “But a quick mission so I can’t complain.”

“I saw you on the news,” You looked towards the fountain that stood further inside the park. “I figured.”

“Still, I think maybe… I’d like a more direct line.” He pulled out his phone as he kept the box under his arm.

“Are you asking for my number?”

“In case anything happens,” He said. “I mean, we’re not strangers.

“Sure, but…” You wetted your dry lip with your tongue. “Okay. Um, I don’t have my phone on me but I can give you my number.”

“Great, I’ll text you.” He unlocked his cell and carefully keyed in your details as you recited them. He replaced the phone in the strap around his bicep. “There. Your very own on-call hero.”

“Right,” You nodded slowly.

“Oh, and…” He grabbed the box from beneath his elbow. “Happy belated birthday.”

“What? Uh, I can’t. You already--”

“A cake? Really. Everyone should have a cake on their birthday.” He held out the gift. “And presents too.”

You looked at the small square box. You chewed your lip and shifted your weight on your feet.

“It’s really nothing special.” He urged. “If you’re wondering, July fourth,” He pointed to himself. “So you’re in the clear.”

“Steve--”

“I already got it and… it’s not really my colour,” He shoved it closer. “Please.”

You slowly took it as you gave a quiet thank you. You carefully slipped a finger in the crease of red wrapping paper and tore it open. A dusty pink smart watch shone back at you. You blinked and looked up at him.

“The guy at the store said you sync it with your phone and it can count your steps and all that. Send you reminders.” He rubbed his neck. “I thought it would be useful. Especially when I’m away.”

You tilted your head at him then looked back to the clear plastic window of the box. It was expensive, you could tell. 

“It’s… a lot.” You said. 

“It’s a gift. It’s not about the price tag,” He shrugged. “Come on. Try it on.”

You scratched your hairline and muttered. You went over to a bench and sat as you worked at opening the box. You took out the watch and admired its round face. He offered to do it up for you and you turned your wrist over. He secured it and you held up your hand as you looked it over.

“You like it?” He asked. “They had gold but I liked the pink.”

“Nice color,” You affirmed. “I guess… I guess I can use it.” You lowered your arm and hid the watched with your other hand. “Thank you.”

“It’s nothing. It’s what friends do,” He stood and gathered the packaging. “You don’t need all this, do you?”

“No,” You stood. “Thanks.”

He tossed it in a bin surrounded by hedges and you neared.

“Well, should we get going?” He asked.

“Yeah. Maybe an extra lap today?” You said. “Push myself a little.”

[yslkook]

#customer centric (4)

#corporate masterlist summary: you arrive in tokyo and spend a few days catching up and reminiscing. jin comes as well, with a few old friends that you haven’t seen in years. Or, you wander around the city visiting familiar places and go to a club with people you haven’t called friends in years. word count: 8656 warnings: cursing, parental death, discussion of mental health, lots of alcohol a/n: this is part 1/2 of being in tokyo!! this is the top i envisioned for oc lol

You missed Tokyo, and Tokyo missed you. The city itself brings bittersweet memories to you, memories of your childhood with your dead father and grandmother passing through your mind as if you’re watching a movie.

Your dad had brought you to Tokyo every summer when you were young, until you were about seventeen or eighteen. Tokyo had become more of a second home than a vacation place for you.  You haven’t been here since college, about two years before your dad passed away. But despite that, it feels like home.

You can read, write, and speak Japanese fluently, which is part of the reason why you’ve been such an integral part of the team so far. The company’s sister branch is in Tokyo, and it’s not your first time visiting the branch, or interacting with your team members based in Tokyo.

You’ve wondered often, quite bitterly, if your fluency in Japanese is the only reason you’re even still on the team. Your boss and his boss at least trust you enough to be the responsible party for your team- there’s only one other member of your team here, Sana. But she’s relatively new, so the responsibility has fallen onto you.

That’s alright. You operate well under pressure.

You’re joined by your small knit team, Sana, Namjoon and Jungkook. Namjoon had managed to finagle with the budget enough that you could arrive a day early, on Friday, and spend the weekend in Tokyo before the workshops began on Monday.

And Seokjin would be flying in on Saturday morning with some of his friends. You’re grateful that at least Jin was coming. Whenever Jin makes these spontaneous types of trips, they’re bound to be eventful. 

Monday and Tuesday will be filled with workshops, proposals and pitch meetings. You made Jin promise that he’d spend time with you during the weekend, so that you could show him some of the treasures you remembered from the city. Despite your many years of friendship, you had never been to Tokyo with Jin and you want to show him some of the places Appa used to take you to.

You’re excited. Even if Jungkook, with his big, sparkling eyes and his natural curiosity is coming along. Seeing him, even though it’s been well over three months that he joined the company, sends you down a dangerous path that isn’t fair to him or to you.

You have to constantly remind yourself that it’s not his fault and you shouldn’t be mean to him. It’s not his fault that your boss and his boss are out for your blood and refuse to give you recognition. But you can’t help but feel like he’s part of the problem that has faced you for the last three years. Part of the same awful old school, conservative mindset that so many of your peers were part of as well.

The leadership at your company needed a drastic overhaul, but you would be the last person to voice those thoughts out loud. Unless it was to Jin. 

You know Jungkook doesn’t deserve your unspoken rage. You can admit that, but you’re not saint enough to channel it somewhere else. You’ve mellowed out considerably from the initial few months, but you could stand to be a little warmer to him.

After all, the way his bunny smile takes up half of his face when he offers it up to someone so worthy… that means nothing to you.

You arrive in Tokyo with your team at around eleven AM, and you check into your hotel rooms about an hour later. Jungkook and Sana had planned the logistics of the trip, from the hotel to the taxi service to lunch, dinner, and the company sponsored happy hour on Monday and Tuesday. 

Because you were in Tokyo for work, you fully planned on using your company card to the fullest for the next few days. This company could kiss your ass, and you would be more than willing to spend as much as you needed to as a subtle ‘fuck you’. It was your version of flipping off your boss, for when he would have to approve your expense report sheet. 

Namjoon had given you Friday to yourselves, to get acquainted with the hotel room and the area itself. Sana and Jungkook had done a good job with choosing the hotel- it has a wonderful view of the city from the rooftop, and being inside the sophisticated hotel with it’s hues of black and white and pops of color and elegance. This regal building screams opulence and you’re bathing in the luxurious feel of it all.

The diamonds of the chandeliers hanging high above you glint in the dim light of the lobby, bouncing off of the sleek, black piano and adding to the romantic air. Was this a love hotel? You scoff to yourself, keeping your head down as you exit the hotel and head in the direction of your favorite park, the Happo-en Garden. 

When you had told your therapist that you’d be coming to Tokyo for the first time since your father’s death, she had immediately picked up on your hesitation-

“It feels weird to be there without him. Almost like the place doesn’t exist if he doesn’t,” You scoff, wringing your hands together.

“It certainly exists without him. And you do, too,” She says kindly, “Maybe you’ll feel close to him when you go there.”

And she was right, as she usually is. You sit alone at a freshly painted red bench with a box of street snacks, including some of Appa’s favorites. The sunshine glimmers against the still lake in front of you, hues of green fading to orange and red reflecting in the murky water. 

This park was a favorite of Appa’s-

“We’re still in Tokyo, but it feels like we’re so far away. Right, sweetheart?” He asks, dark eyes shining. Appa’s hand tightens around yours and you nod excitedly.

“Yeah! Like we’re close to the princess’s castle!” You gasp.

“That’s right, but the only princess I see here is you,” Appa smiles and you beam at him, all smiles and sunshine.

The memory is from when you were maybe seven or eight years old. Everytime you came to Tokyo with Appa, you always came to this park. Specifically to this area, where Appa claimed that the sun shined on the leaves and the water in a specific way that made everything feel like magic.

You had always scoffed at him, especially as you grew older and the lines around his eyes grew deeper. But you still entertained him. You never saw that magic that Appa claimed to see, but now, you wonder how you could ever not see it.

A breeze ruffles through the trees, whistling as it threads through your hair and running over the water. The clouds part for a moment, allows a burst of sunbeams to spread over the water and you gasp at the sudden golden filter over the surroundings in front of you.

Another breeze, one from your left side, presses against your shoulder and your cheek. Almost like it’s whispering to you. You whip your head to the side, only to find nothing next to you. You feel like you’re floating, with the gentle caress of the wind to keep you company.

You eat your snacks in silence, embracing the way that it feels like the wind is Appa’s caress against your skin.

By the time you return to the hotel, the sun is beginning to go down and a bittersweet sort of happiness settles in your heart. You feel closer to your dad than you have in a long time- this city was bound to feel like home with its welcoming arms curling around you warmly. You had spent the better part of the day visiting old sights and places that you had frequented to with Appa. 

It was peaceful, like a walk down memory lane. You could almost see your younger self bursting at the seams with joy at all of the new places. You could almost see her so eager to learn and demanding that Appa teach you Japanese immediately.

You wonder where that girl went. She’s lost, buried beneath layers and layers and maybe someday you’ll find her again.

Stopping by one of your favorite restaurants, you order all of your favorites times three. For your colleagues to have something to feast on when you returned from your day trip. You hadn’t been on your phone for most of the day, choosing to mute the group chat with your colleagues so you could truly be alone. 

Once you approach the familiar blue neon sign of the restaurant, you send them a text:

you: evening all. dont worry about dinner, Im bringing lots of food back sana: look who woke up from her coma namjoon: did you put it on your card? you: of course i did. you dont have to remind me joon ;)  you: want to have dinner together? jungkook: ya where should we eat Namjoon: come to my room, it’s room 1804 you: ok, be there in about thirty min

With your heart feeling full, brimming with fondness for your teammates, you pay for the heavy bags of food and make your way back to the hotel. You can’t help but smile as you walk with a little pep in your step.

“You should have asked one of us to help you,” Jungkook says reproachfully, taking half the bags from you.

Your arms ache, not that you’ll admit your stubbornness. You only smile sheepishly, “It was only a fifteen minute walk.”

“And this is a lot of food,” Jungkook muses, peeking inside as his doe eyes sparkle in anticipation.

“It’s our first team dinner in Tokyo. We deserve it,” You shrug.

“I also bought a few bottles of wine,” Sana chirps, dangling two bottles of red in her hands, “We deserve it.”

You laugh and she winks at you. Namjoon is already setting up the many boxes of food on the mahogany wooden desk in the corner of the room. The curtains are pulled back, affording you of a breathtaking view of the city lights and the now hanging moon high in the sky.

“The boss has the best view, huh?” You tease, nudging his shoulder.

“Jungkook picked it,” Namjoon shrugs, “I just wanted to share the view with you all.”

“How sweet of you,” You say sincerely, “Dinner with a view. That’s pretty romantic. And Jungkook has good taste.”

Jungkook’s ears flush at your praise and he covers his ears for a second. Not that you notice. You sit on the floor, across from Jungkook and offer to scoop food onto everyone’s plates for them. You ignore their protests and do it anyway, quietly asking how much of each they want. Sana fills up plastic cups with wine and labels everyone’s cup with a black marker so you can all keep track of them.

“How classy of us,” Namjoon snorts but says thank you to Sana.

“Did you bring wine glasses in your luggage?” Sana shoots at Namjoon, “I didn’t think so.”

You stifle your laugh behind your hand and shake your head. “Feels like college, if only those cups were red,” You joke.

“My roommate still uses red cups sometimes, for casual purposes,” Jungkook says softly, “It drives me up the wall. Like, can you drink out of a normal cup or what? I get flashbacks to beer pong almost every morning.”

You laugh a little harder at that, and the sound is sweet in Jungkook’s ears. He wants to see if he can get you to laugh like that a little more.

“I mean, we’re grown now. I can’t believe Taehyung sometimes, having his morning orange juice in a red solo cup. It’s heinous.”

Your eyes are overflowing with mirth, the sound of your genuine happiness echoing in Jungkook’s ears and he can’t help but smile in return.

“Morning orange juice,” You mutter, “That’s adorable. Taehyung? That’s the name of your roommate?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook replies, “We did undergrad together and he’s an aspiring art gallery curator. He’s actually coming here tomorrow-”

“Wait, hang on,” You say after chewing through a mouthful of noodles, “Is this Taehyung, as in Kim Taehyung who you snuck into that bar with and he ended up getting absolutely hammered and stealing three bottles of alcohol? Before getting kicked out and Jin and I took you both home? That Taehyung?”

The fondness with which you speak of Taehyung unnerves Jungkook. 

“Yeah,” Jungkook nods, “That Taehyung.”

“Sounds like a real class act,” Sana says dryly.

“Wow, I haven’t seen him in years,” You exhale, “I think Jin’s bringing some friends from college tomorrow, too.”

“Yeah, he mentioned a Jimin and a Hoseok,” Namjoon adds.

“Damn, Sana, maybe we should’ve brought our friends, too,” You murmur, teasing but honestly, you don’t really have anyone you would’ve asked to bring, “Can’t wait to see what this boys weekend brings.”

You fully anticipate that Seokjin will rope you into whatever shenanigans they have planned, and you don’t even feel bad about crashing. You make a mental note to let Sana know of whatever plans they invited you to, so that she wouldn’t feel left out.

They don’t ask where you were all day, and for that you’re grateful. The lines of professionalism are beginning to blur for you, and you don’t want to burden them with your feelings and problems. You don’t want them to think differently of you for trying to catch a glimpse of Appa in your memories. 

Jin would say you were being silly, but you can’t help it. Maybe someday, but not today.

But Jungkook does wonder. Where were you all day? When the group chat was going off, you were silent. It was none of his business, but he’s curious. And he’s curious about you. You hadn’t changed out of your day clothes or taken your makeup off. He can see the nearly gone darkened stain of your gloss on your lips and the curl of your lashes. Jungkook keeps his eyes above your neck, knowing that if his eyes begin to wander he would be even more of a goner than he already was.

It’s September in Tokyo, meaning that it was warm during the day and somewhat chilly in the evenings. Your dark green long sleeved shirt is tucked into your shorts, complete with a black belt, leaving your tanned thighs on display. Jungkook thinks he catches a glimpse of a tattoo peeking from your shorts, but he thinks he imagines it. 

Until your shorts ride up just a little and he sees an array of colors and the fleeting sight of a flower on your upper thigh. Jungkook swallows nervously and stuffs his face full of udon noodles without hesitation. If his mouth is stuffed with food, then nobody will look twice at him and he can keep his thoughts to himself and ogle at you in peace. 

The logic makes sense in his head.

Your voice carries over to Namjoon, telling him that you’ll be picking Seokjin, Jimin and Hoseok up in the morning with the rental car.

“Hey, if Taehyung is arriving at the same time, do you want me to pick him up?” You ask, turning your gaze to Jungkook.

“Huh?” Jungkook asks. You roll your eyes.

“Taehyung. If he arrives at the same time as Jin, Jimin and Hoseok, do you want me to pick him up?”

“Er,” Jungkook says eloquently, “He’s actually been here for the last week. Thanks, though.”

You want to say that Jin would cause a scene and whine at you if you didn’t pick him up from the airport, the prince that he is. But you keep it to yourself- after all, he’s somewhat of a boss to Jungkook and Sana. 

You nod in understanding and shove more noodles and meat into your mouth. You stretch your legs out in front of you and Jungkook doesn’t look away, instead allowing his eyes to rake over you shamelessly. Nevermind that Namjoon and Sana are right next to him, probably wondering why he’s staring you down so intensely.

The four of you spend the rest of the evening discussing your plans for the weekend, avoiding the topic of work altogether. It’s nice, you can almost believe that you’re all just four friends making a weekend getaway without the confines of work looming over your heads.

Namjoon offers to split the remaining food amongst the four of you and puts equal amounts of everything into each container for all of you to take back to your rooms.

And then Sana pours more wine for each of you and you feel yourself beginning to get more and more relaxed with each sip you take. You want to open your stitched together lips, tell them how it’s been so long since you’ve had alcohol with anyone who wasn’t Jin. You want to tell them that you like red wine more than white wine, but nothing beats soju-

“What’s your favorite kind of wine,” Jungkook asks. He comes to sit next to you on the floor, stretching his legs out. His shoulder brushes against yours and you feel something like electricity at the soft touch.

“Um… I like reds over white wine. But I haven’t had that many reds to say which kind is my favorite,” You muse.

“Guess we’ll have to try some more red wine, huh?” Jungkook says, his eyes sparkling and bunny smile on display. 

Your heart warms and sputters at the same time.

“Yeah,” You nod breathlessly, “What about you? What do you like?”

“I’m not picky. I don’t really like cabernet,” Jungkook scrunches his nose, “Too bitter for me.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” You giggle, unable to believe that such a noise is coming out of your mouth. Despite Sana and Namjoon having their own conversation on the other side of the room, it feels like it’s just you and Jungkook for a minute in your own bubble.

“I like a good chardonnay, too. Nice ‘n crisp.”

“Me too, I love that crisp taste of a good white wine,” You reply, unable to keep your eyes off of him for longer than a second. His cheeks and the tips of his ears are a pretty pink and you wonder if his cheeks are as warm as yours are.

“Thought you didn’t like white wine?” Jungkook murmurs, head tilting inquisitively. 

“I prefer red, but if there’s white wine in front of me, I mean,” You shrug, “It’s not like ‘m gonna say no.”

“Oh? We’ll have to test that out, too,” Jungkook smiles, “I like soju the best. Nothin’ beats soju.”

“Yeah, peach and green grape,” You say knowingly, “The only flavors with rights.”

“Exactly. You get me,” Jungkook nods with wide eyes. He asks you about Tokyo, if you come here often. You answer him somewhat vaguely, but tell him that you grew up reading, writing and speaking Japanese. He looks impressed by that and the fondness in the lines of his lips startles you.

You chalk it up to the romance of this city making you soft and pliant to his doe eyes and the warmth of his smile. He’s so easy to get lost in- you find yourself leaning closer to him to hear what he has to say about his own travel dreams. He wants to go to New York City and Bangkok and Athens- the way his eyes light up constricts around your heart.

Every part of him radiates warmth and you want to be draped by it. He says something that makes you smile and laugh, and you swat at his shoulder reflexively. Jungkook only looks at you in that way. The way that makes you feel like you’re the only person in the world. He’s good at that.

He has hearts and stars in his eyes for you and it makes you choke.

Maybe you had imagined it all because you remember where you are. You’re in your boss’s hotel room and he’s standing right there. Jungkook sees the spark in your eyes disappear immediately and you pull away just as quickly, as if the moment had never happened.

He won’t deny the sting, but you’re so easy to get lost in. The fog in his mind clears, and while it’s only been a few minutes that you’ve been alone. It feels like much longer. But Namjoon and Sana are still deep in conversation, his dimples on display and her smile bright.

You pull away but your dark eyes are still wide and focused on him, stars swirling in your irises and Jungkook thinks he might fall into this wonderfully brown abyss held in your pretty face. Finally, you move away from him on the floor, almost immediately missing his warmth. You look back at him as you move to get some water, the same curious look on your face.

Your face is burning, and you’re surprised you’re able to keep this cool for this long. The urge to bolt from Namjoon’s hotel room and back to your own is one that you have to fight. But instead, you stay planted where you are. Jungkook confuses you, you hardly even know him and you had let him get so close to you. It’s not something you usually do, but what unnerves you is how nice it felt. The closeness of him, his eyes on you and only you. Are you bothered by it? 

No, you realize. No. You quite liked it. You’re supposed to hate him- he represents everything you hate. A young kid, a boy, raising quickly through the ranks of your corporate world, while you grasp at straws. 

Does he? Does he represent everything you hate? What a load of bullshit.

You swallow again. You need to leave.

“Hey, Joon,” You say softly, touching his elbow, “I’m going to head out. It’s getting late and I’ve gotta head out early tomorrow.”

Jungkook’s heart drops. He’d made you so uncomfortable that you were abruptly cutting your night short. Because of him. He needs to make this right.

“I’ll walk with you,” The words tumble out of Jungkook’s mouth before he can stop them. His heart is pounding in his ears- he needs to apologize before you hate him even more.

“Okay,” You reply with a smile, “Here are your leftovers.”

“I’ll walk with you both,” Sana says, taking her bag.

With that, you say your goodbyes and leave Namjoon’s room to the elevators. Your head feels like static, a wave of thoughts congealing into something impenetrable. The doors ding shut, all three of you standing on opposite ends of the elevator. You can’t look at Jungkook, you can’t see his doe eyes. Not right now.

Sana calls your name, “Thanks for the food.”

“No problem, Sana,” You murmur, “See you tomorrow.”

And then it’s just you and Jungkook in the elevator. 

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook says immediately, “I made you uncomfortable. I’m sorry. If you don’t wanna talk to me outside of work, I get it-”

“What?” You ask, finally looking at him. You take a step forward, close enough to him that you’re in his orbit. “You didn’t… You didn’t make me uncomfortable, Jungkook. I would have told you if you did. You just… confuse me.”

The last bit comes out as a vulnerable whisper and all Jungkook can do is nod. 

“Goodnight, Jungkook,” You say clearly, casting him a look over your shoulder as you exit the elevator. Your eyes are guarded once more, as if the night hadn’t happened. As if he hadn’t fallen for you even further. You wash him away from your bloodstream quickly and Jungkook feels his heart aching once more.

By the time you pick up Jin, Jimin, and Hoseok from the airport and arrive at the hotel, it’s nearly noon. The car ride back was fun, dare you say it. It amazed you how Jin still remained close in contact with people you went to college with. It felt natural, talking to Jimin and Hoseok. As if years hadn’t gone by.

They were hot, and that was your first assessment when you had met them at the airport. Jimin and Hoseok had both embraced you in tight hugs, without any regard for whether you wanted one or not. You found that you didn’t really mind.

You didn’t know how you were going to survive this weekend surrounded by these many attractive people. 

“We should celebrate. For this reunion,” Hoseok says.

“Jungkook is here, too,” You reply, “A great big university reunion right here in Tokyo, huh?”

“Oh, yeah. I keep forgetting you guys work together now,” Jimin says.

“Wait, you guys are friends still?” You ask.

“Why wouldn’t we be?” Jimin says, genuine confusion in the handsome planes of his face.

You suppose everyone else is better at making and maintaining friendships than you are. It stings a little, having so many people from university in the same place. In the city that already holds so many memories for you. But you’ll embrace it, because that’s what you’ve been working on. Embracing change.

And of course, what was a boys weekend without a night out at the club? Jin had all but demanded that you come, in true dramatic fashion- I can’t go out without you, you know. I can’t believe you’re considering leaving me like this. I’ll die there without you.

It didn’t take much from you to roll your eyes but agree and tell him that you were inviting Sana.

“Go pregame and get ready with your boys,” You had urged him, “It’s so rare you all are together like this. I’ll catch up with you later.”

“Are you sure?” Jin asked with uncertainty and you had only smiled warmly at him. 

“Yes, Seokjin. I’m sure. I’ll be crashing the party soon, don’t worry,” You reassured him and he left your hotel room. He promised to text you when to come and you just nodded, shooing him away.

That had been nearly two hours ago, and you’re putting the finishing touches on your makeup with Sana getting ready in the bathroom. Music is playing through your phone and once you’re done with your lip gloss, you make drinks and prepare shots for you and Sana.

“You’ve gotta tell me how you’re friends with so many hot men,” Sana says, taking a seat on the bed.

You scoff, “I’m really only friends with Jin. The rest of them come with Jin, we’re hardly friends.”

“Oh?” Sana asks with a skeptical raise of her eyebrow, “You all went to school together, right?”

“Yeah… Something like that,” You say lightly, “Jin kept in touch with all of them. I didn’t.”

You leave it at that and Sana knows not to press further.

“They’re all nice guys. I always had fun with them,” You say fondly, “You will, too.”

“Cheers to that,” Sana grins, “We look hot. Let’s take a picture.”

“Should we send it to our boss,” You roll your eyes.

“Yeah, that would send him off the deep end. He’d be here in five seconds, dragging us out by our ears,” Sana rolls her eyes as well with a laugh.

You try your best to make Sana feel as comfortable as she can with you. At least so that she’s comfortable when you go meet up with the guys later. You know it can be intimidating being around people who are so close, but they’ve always been welcoming.

It begs the question- why did you let them all go?

You don’t have time to unpack all of that. By the time Jin texts you, telling you to come to his suite on the eighteenth floor, you and Sana are three drinks and two shots in.

You’ve drank more in the last two days than you have in the last year alone. At least that’s what it feels like. 

You make sure to take your hotel card, phone and wallet and ensure that Sana does as well. Giggles erupt from the both of you when you enter the elevator, and excitement thrums in your veins. The liquid courage bouncing around in your veins makes you feel relaxed and you tug Sana’s hand out of the elevator once the steel doors open.

You text Jin from outside his door, you can already hear the loud peals of laughter and the beat of music through the walls. You wonder if they’ve gotten any noise complaints yet, but probably not- his room is the only one on this side of the hotel. He probably did this on purpose.

When he doesn’t answer your text, you decide to knock obnoxiously and Sana giggles at your impatience. On your fifth knock, the door swings open and you see Jin’s tipsy face complete with reddened cheeks and his broad smile. 

He hugs you like he hasn’t seen you in years, he even lifts you off of the ground a little bit. Your heart flutters with affection for him as you whine for him to put you down.

“Jin!” You shriek, “At least go inside, dummy- stop embarrassing me-”

He finally puts you down and holds you by the shoulders to take you in. His eyes are sharp and he says nothing as he assesses your outfit, apparently deeming you as acceptable as he waves you inside. He says hello to Sana, who returns his mellowed out hug graciously.

Jin hands you both full cups, and you trust Jin enough to know it’s a yummy but strong drink. You grip your cup tighter and allow Sana to go in front of you. The last thing you want is for her to feel left out, so you want the guys to be introduced to her first.

Besides, they all already knew you.

Jin does the introductions quickly, the guys all warming up to Sana and bringing her in for hugs as well. Her cheeks are flushed, and you knew she’d feel flustered. They’re intense in their friendliness and it would make anyone feel flustered and warm.

And then their eyes land on you and you wish you could melt into the floor. Six pairs of eyes stare back at you- apparently Yoongi had also decided to come as well. 

College reunion indeed.

You stay close to Jin, offering them a weak wave of your fingers and a smile. 

“Hello boys,” You say dramatically,  “Long time no see.”

“Jin’s been hiding you all to himself, hasn’t he?” Jimin says, not bothering to hide the way he’s looking at you. And you don’t mind, not really- you know you look good.

“I just saw you this morning. When I picked your sorry ass up from the airport,” You reply and Jimin pouts at you as everyone around you laughs at his expense. 

“Still so mean,” Jimin murmurs and you roll your eyes.

And with that, alcohol continues to flow as the chatter continues on.

You cast another glance to Sana, making sure she’s not by herself. You relax when you see her talking to Yoongi and Hoseok, smiling to yourself at how quickly she takes to them.

“Hey pretty,” Jimin says, seeing you near the alcohol and joining you.

“Hey you,” You parrot back and he smiles at you in that sweet, disarming way, “Want a drink?”

“You always made the best drinks,” Jimin says, handing his cup over to you. You ignore the way your chest tightens at his use of past tense.

“Maybe you just never knew how to make drinks,” You murmur, “Probably still don’t, huh?”

Jimin laughs lightly at that as a silence falls between you both. “You look good,” Jimin exhales, “You doin’ alright?”

You never know what to say to that. “Yeah. You look good, Jimin. You doin’ alright?” 

“Yeah. I’m still in Seoul at the dance school. Don’t be such a stranger,” Jimin murmurs and before you can protest, he pokes your forehead affectionately. 

“You’ll ruin my makeup,” You complain but give him a small smile, “Jimin. ‘M glad to see you. All of you.”

Jimin looks like he wants to say something more. But he bites his tongue. This isn’t the place to pick a petty fight, so he lets it go. Jungkook approaches you both, resting his arm on Jimin’s shoulder. Jimin groans dramatically and Jungkook only offers him a smile and a giggle.

“Cup’s empty,” Jungkook says, wiggling his cup to both of you, “Stop hoggin’ the alcohol.”

“Blame Jimin. Everything’s his fault,” You tease and Jimin rolls his eyes at you both.

“It is, isn’t it?” Jungkook grins and Jimin slips out from under Jungkook with another roll of his eyes. “Hey, you met Taehyung yet? My roommate? You ‘member him?”

His eyes are slick with alcohol, and yet they still sparkle at you like you hold all of the answers to the universe in them. He has this way of making you feel like you’re the only person in the world. It unnerves you, like many things about him do.

“No, where is he?”

Jungkook shouts for Taehyung to join him and you wince. All of a sudden his sandy haired roommate pops up from the direction of the living area and joins you at the drinks table. He looks a far cry from the boy you had driven home that night many years ago.

You knew being in the presence of so many attractive people was going to kill all of your brain cells by the end of the night.

Taehyung calls your name and nerves seize you inexplicably. 

“You remember me?” The words escape your lips before your brain has a chance to stop them.

“Course I do? The pretty girl who saved Kook and I at that one bar that I’m still banned from?” Taehyung grins, his eyes sweet and sincere.

“Jin was with me too, don’t forget him,” You say dryly, “Nice to see you again after all this time. And you’re Jungkook’s roommate?”

“Unfortunately,” Jungkook chimes in, earning him a laugh from you.

Taehyung is magnetic when he speaks to you, honey dripping from his tongue as he tells you about his journey as an aspiring art museum curator. Passion lights up his dark irises, his smile matching the intensity of it and you’re certain he has this effect on everyone he speaks to. They’re both so close to you, in your bubble and the scent of their cologne wafts into your nose. 

You drink more. You don’t know how to cope with all of this. So you drink.

Jungkook tells you that they’ve been roommates all through graduate school and they had recently moved into a new, bigger place. Now that they were both making a little more money. You find yourself benignly jealous of the life they live- two close friends living together and living for these kinds of nights with their other close friends. The bond they built and strengthened over the years is obvious in the way Taehyung holds Jungkook close, the way Hoseok lights up the entire room and makes everyone smile just because he’s smiling, the way Yoongi and Jimin bicker like an old married couple… Namjoon has already slotted himself within the group. Jin probably introduced him to them a while back, you realize.

Jungkook excuses himself to use the bathroom, leaving his cup next to Taehyung on the table. Taehyung’s gaze makes you nervous- the shift in his eyes is apparent as he lazily rakes his eyes over you.

“Kook told me he was workin’ with you again,” Taehyung murmurs, “What he didn’t tell me was how pretty you are.”

“What a line,” You say flatly and roll your eyes. To your surprise, he laughs, his smile making you smile as well.

“Just bein’ honest,” Taehyung shrugs, “‘Snot everyday you see our hot grad school girl after five years.”

“You’re full of it,” You roll your eyes, shoving his shoulder playfully, “‘Our?’”

“Jungkook was-” Taehyung starts but he’s interrupted by the man himself. Jungkook was what?

“You talkin’ about me?” Jungkook says, elbowing Taehyung. Taehyung only shakes his head and hands him his cup, before excusing himself. He throws you another charming smile and if you weren’t so on edge, your knees might have buckled.

“He’s…” 

“A pain in the ass?” Jungkook supplies, “Yeah.”

“No, I was gonna say he’s interesting,” You laugh. A short silence settles between you both, giving you a moment to really take him in. You itch your chin nervously before pushing your lips to the rim of your cup and watching him.

You’ve always known that Jungkook was somehow handsome, sexy and cute all at the same time- wide, doe eyes, pinchable cheeks, pretty smile, and then his body… His thighs strain against the tight material of his pants and you’re certain it’s deliberate. His button up shirt is loose but still molds to his muscles in that way where it leaves you wanting more. His shirt is buttoned at the elbow, giving you a peek to the smattering of tattoos on his forearm. His dark hair is parted in the middle, all soft and shiny, and a little long. It settles over his forehead, almost in his eyes, effortlessly. Two hoops in each ear glint in your direction and you swallow nervously.

Jungkook catches you looking at his tattoos- how ironic, considering he’s doing the same of you. The satin black top you’re wearing has a plunging neckline, giving him a view of the tattoos stemming from your upper arm to your clavicle.

It also offers him a teasing hint of your bare chest where if you turn to the side just a little, he catches a glimpse of even more. It makes him swallow, just as nervous as you. The top itself is loose, only cinched a little at the waist but your pants are tight, your strappy heels adding even more dimension to your legs.

You nervously twist the layering of gold necklaces around your neck. Jungkook has always thought you were beautiful, but he’s never seen you like this. Not even when he knew you years ago.

“Your cup’s empty again,” You laugh nervously, offering to make him another drink. You don’t know what to do with your hands, wanting to keep busy.

“Oh,” Jungkook breathes, “Yeah.”

He tries to keep his eyes on your hands, really he does. But you bend forward just a little and his eyes immediately flit to your plentiful chest. 

Jungkook thinks he might die, and what a way to go.

You pull away from the table, handing him his drink and he thanks you quietly. Jungkook ignores the way your eyes shine curiously at him, and he buries himself in the confusion fuzzing up his mind.

Jin, to your relief, pulls you away from Jungkook before you can do something incredibly stupid. Like let him burst through your carefully structured walls even further than he already has.

Typically, clubs are not your favorite place to be. The intense crowd, the neon lights, the smoke… It’s all over the top. Usually, you can’t even hear yourself think over the music. Though, you don’t mind the sense of anonymity in such a crowded place. Besides, you’ve heard great things about IBEX, so you’re curious about it.

It’s a huge place, easy for everyone to split up, but still small enough that you can easily find your group. You urge Sana to go have fun with the guys as you order a round of drinks for everyone. As one of the oldest of your friends, you felt that sense of responsibility for them. Even if you hadn’t called them friends in years.

You signal them over once the drinks are ready, catching Namjoon’s eye and beckoning him over. They slowly begin to surround you, shouting thank you’s over the music. Jimin slings his arm around your shoulders as if it’s nothing. As if he’s known you for all this time.

It makes you feel warm. He gazes at you with crescent eyes and a full smile. It makes your heart thump heavily in your chest.

“Cheers,” Jimin says, tearing his eyes away from you and towards the group. His toast elicits a sequence of ‘cheers’ from everyone. You scan across all of them before your eyes inevitably land on Jungkook. He’s looking at you with a smile, the kind of smile that makes you wonder if it’s a smile only for your eyes.

Your smile matches his in intensity, neither of you pulling your gazes away. Until Jin pulls you away from Jimin, exclaiming that he needs to dance with you. His best friend.

The moment passes, and you make sure Sana is okay. She’s conversing with Yoongi now, and he’s laughing at something she’s saying. It makes you feel warm. Again.

You allow the music to pump through your veins as laughter bubbles from your lips freely at Jin’s antics. You entertain him, copying his coordinated movements with his same enthusiasm. You can tell he’s drunk, from the fiery flush in his cheeks and the tips of his ears. He abruptly pulls you close to him for a tight hug and holds your face in his hands.

“Jin,” You giggle, “What you doin’?”

“I love you,” Jin giggles, “Y’r my best friend, ‘n I love you.” He always got like this when you were drunk, so affectionate. You wonder how he knows exactly what you need to hear, when you need to hear it.

“Can’t wait for you t’meet Yuna when we get home,” Jin slurs.

“I’m excited, too-”

“She’s nervous y’know,” Jin continues as if you hadn’t said anything, “Knows y’r my best friend.”

“Jin,” You exhale, “Even if she doesn’t like me, you clearly like her. I shouldn’t matter-”

“No,” Jin says sharply, “Why d’you think you don’t matter? You matter to me.”

“Jin-”

“Stop it,” He silences you and you comply with a sigh. 

“She doesn’t have to be nervous around me,” You finally say.

“You can be a little scary when you want to be,” He teases.

“That’s exactly how I want to be known,” You scoff and Jin laughs, swaying with you offbeat to the music. You stand with Jin like that for a few minutes, sipping on your drink and giggling at his antics.

“Seokjin,” You murmur, voice a little shaky, “I never say it but… I-I love you. So much. You’re my best friend and my rock. I don’t know who I’d be without you-”

“You’d be you,” Jin says without missing a beat, “You’d be scary, intense, kind, genuine, petty, funny and beautiful with or without me, sweetheart.”

Jin sees wetness in your eyes and pulls you in for another hug. “None of that,” Jin murmurs, “Hey, let’s take a picture ‘n send it to Grandma. She’ll get a kick out of that.”

You stand in Jin’s arms, in the crowd of people surrounding you and not paying attention to you. Despite the throng of people around you, it feels like it’s just you and Jin, and your friends in the club.

“Let’s get back to our friends,” You say, “They probably think we’re making out-”

“You would be so lucky,” Jin scoffs, “Only Yuna gets this handsome face.” You pinch his cheeks affectionately and coo at him.

“Hey, by the way,” Jin says, “Not to be totally unprofessional here. But I’m pretty sure Jeon Jungkook has the hots for you. Kid won’t stop lookin’ at you. Not that I can blame him, I mean look at your tits.”

With that statement, Jin walks away from you, leaving you confused and curious- two words becoming increasingly common with your thoughts of Jeon Jungkook.

“Hey pretty,” comes a sweet voice to your right side. You already know it’s Jimin before you meet his sincere eyes.

“Hey you,” You reply, “Wanna dance? We used to always be in sync.”

If Jimin is surprised he doesn’t show it. He only takes your drink and finishes it, placing it on a high table near you. He walks behind you, a hand on the small of your back as you weave through the crowd easily. Bodies push back into you but you only dance along with them to move past. Jimin pulls you closer to him once he finds a spot, pulling you into his side. He turns you so that you’re facing him, the lights of the club illuminating the sheen of his lips and the shine in his eyes. You push a stray strand of his silver hair back behind his ear.

“I meant it you know,” Jimin murmurs, for your ears only, “You look good.” You lean into him at his praise, a hand on his chest. Your nails press into the soft material of his dress shirt and he tightens his grip around your waist, thumbs rubbing circles. 

“You do, too,” You reply easily, “You always did.”

Jimin scoffs but you look at him earnestly. “I mean it,” You say with a smirk, mimicking his words. He says nothing, only holds you and rolls his hips into yours to the beat of the music. He watches you carefully, trying to gauge your reaction. You snake a hand to the base of his neck and lightly scratch as he presses his nose to your neck. You’re lucky he’s holding you tight- you’re certain you’re knees would buckle if it weren’t for him.

It’s been years since anyone danced with you like this. You let out a soft sound into his skin and Jimin groans, pressing his hips into yours even more slowly if possible.

“Why’d you leave,” Jimin breathes into your skin, “Missed you. Missed my friend.”

“I was a mess,” You mutter, “I’m still a mess.”

“You’re here now?” He asks, looking at you with big eyes. Jimin cups your face tenderly, and you’re not sure how many of these kind touches you can take for one night.

“Yeah,” You say faintly, “I just… couldn’t. I still can’t.”

You won’t apologize for mending your own cracks the way you needed to. And Jimin knows that. “Don’t be a stranger,” Jimin says and pulls you in for a hug.

“Jimin,” You mumble, “I missed you, too.”

Barely stifling a yawn, you look around for your group. They’re all within eyesight of you- Sana and Yoongi were still engrossed in conversation with each other, Namjoon with Jin, Hoseok and Jimin and Taehyung with Jungkook. Taehyung casts a look over to you and immediately whispers to Jungkook. It shouldn’t surprise you that they both saunter over to you, standing on either side of you. Taehyung wraps an arm around your shoulders and leans against you as if you’re old friends. At this angle, you can see the expanse of his tanned, golden skin since the top few buttons of his shirt are popped.

“See somethin’ you like?” Taehyung asks coyly with a wink.

“No, just wondering why you’re wearing tinted aviators inside,” You mutter, pointing at him, “You look like an asshole.”

Taehyung laughs, throwing his head back good-naturedly, “You clearly don’t know fashion. You must think you’re hilarious.”

Before you can retort, a yawn overtakes you. “Are we boring you?” Jungkook teases.

“No, ‘m just tired,” You blink to force yourself to stop yawning, “Hey, you guys wanna get ice cream?”

“Yes,” Jungkook says instantly.

Taehyung nearly snorts but agrees. By the time you and Jungkook say your goodbyes, and you ask for the tenth time if Sana wants to come with you (she declines, opting to stay with Yoongi), Taehyung is nowhere to be found. Jungkook rolls his eyes, his phone vibrating with a text from him-

taehyung: you’re welcome 

“Tae’s not coming,” Jungkook says slowly, wondering if you might change your mind if it’s just you two getting ice cream.

You shrug, “His loss. I know a great place.”

Taking Jungkook to one of your favorite ice cream places that you used to come with Appa to feels intimate. But it feels right and you’re not bothered by it. Once you buy your respective cones (you pay for both before Jungkook can even fumble for his card), you head back outside for a short walk towards the hotel.

The ice cream place itself was close to the hotel, though you had to Uber here from the club. It’s a nice night for a walk, a little chilly but not uncomfortably so. You and Jungkook fall into an easy conversation, talking about the silliness of your shared friends.

He looks nice under the moonlight, you decide. A light breeze lifts his hair up briefly before it flawlessly settles over his forehead.

“I can’t keep up with you,” Jungkook whispers, his words carrying into the night air.

“What do you mean?” Your heart picks up immediately at the anguish in his tone. The air between both of you shifts immediately. What was easy becomes hardened, the space between suffocating you. You can physically see him pulling away from you. Months, or maybe years, of frustration seems to be coming to a head right here. Right near your favorite ice cream shop.

“One sec you hate me. The next, you’re asking me to get ice cream with you,” Jungkook says, something familiar and icy curling in his brown irises. It always looks so off-putting, the callousness in his eyes. It seems to be directed at you so often these days.

“I don’t hate you-”

“You avoided me for 2 and a half months. You’re only talking to me now because you have to!”

“That’s not true-”

“Oh, really? You telling me that you the last two and a half months was all in my head?”

You stay quiet, because he’s not wrong.

“That’s what I thought,” Jungkook says to himself, tearing his eyes from you. The cold look in his eyes has returned and it makes your heart ache. He can’t look at you like that, you can hardly bear it.

“I’m fucked up, I get it. Don’t think I don’t get it-”

“You left. Without a goodbye and now fuckin’ five years later- my dream girl’s my colleague and she hates me.”

A sudden, chilling epiphany douses you- he has no idea why you left. You know him well enough to know that he’ll feel awful once you tell him. Apparently none of his friends had told him. Maybe they thought it was your story to tell. It’s not much of a story, not really. It’s the story of a heartbroken girl with commitment issues.

Your face drops. Maybe he’s hurting you the same way you hurt him. But it changes nothing.

“You can’t even look at me now!”

“You listen to me, Jungkook,” You hiss, “I’m not your dream girl. I’m nobody’s dream girl, so let’s get that straight. I’m awful a-and terrible and mean- and… 

“My dad died,” You finally whisper, “Appa died and I couldn’t handle grad school so I dropped out. Dropped off the face of the earth. Got the first job I could, for Grandma and me. 

“I fuckin’ dropped out, my daddy died and I can’t look at you sometimes because it fuckin’ reminds me of when I was happy and I can’t chase that feeling because I don’t know what it feels like anymore!”

Jungkook’s eyes are wide, pretty pink lips parted in speechlessness. Fuck. You’ve ruined any chance at friendship with him, you know that. So you bury the dagger even further in whatever this is and you turn on your heel and run. Because that’s all you’re good at. Running. Your eyes are blurry with freely falling tears and the sound of your own heaving sobs are loud in your ears. 

You leave your heart out on the streets of Tokyo, near your favorite ice cream shop but you don’t even hear the sound of Jungkook chasing after you.

[kjmsupremacist]

guys my age (taeyong/yuta)

Taeyong, fresh off of his first year of college, finds himself in a new city for his summer internship. He keeps running into a beautiful man, and Taeyong can’t help but be attracted to him. The problem? This guy is around 40, and Taeyong only just celebrated his 20th birthday.

Chapter 10 - my clothes still smell like you (and all the photographs say you’re still young)  |   Chapter 1   Chapter 2   Chapter 3   Chapter 4   Chapter 5   Chapter 6   Chapter 7   Chapter 8   Chapter 9   Chapter 11   Chapter 12   Chapter 13   Masterlist

Characters: Taeyong, Yuta; the rest of nct intermittently

Genre: fluff, angst, smut (lots of smut)

Warnings: AGE GAP (like taeyong is barely legal)*, daddy kink, cockwarming, degradation, thigh riding (? not a warning insomuch as it is just a tag)

Rating: Explicit

Length: 6.8k

official playlist here! | if ur able, u can buy me a coffee here!

*please mind the gap! I am in no way condoning or encouraging real life age gap relationships with this fic. I think there is an inherent power imbalance, and that they are rarely healthy. I still like them in fiction though, because im fucked up :) if you think it will upset you, then please don’t read it!

(divider cropped from a photo taken by @/double_cats on twt!)

Taeyong was right about the lethargy of August. Even work feels slow; none of them get much done, interns and department heads alike. It’s hot and humid, even with the A/C, and Taeyong feels sluggish.

Their last day of work is a Friday, and Yuta insists that Taeyong spend the night with his fellow interns. “You’ll have Monday and Tuesday free,” he says. “I’ll come get you in the morning, okay?”

Taeyong’s grateful for his insistence, really. They have a little party at the office, and then Taeyong goes out with a bunch of the other interns, including Jaehyun. It turns out Johnny and Ten have gotten together in these past couple of months—something Taeyong missed while he was wrapped up in his own escapades.

“So how did that happen?” Taeyong asks, clinking his beer against Ten’s as he takes his seat beside him, watching their friends jump around on the dance floor. “You and Johnny?”

Ten smiles. “It’s funny, actually,” he says. “We were hanging out a lot, and I was operating under the assumption that we were just doing it as friends, and Johnny was operating under the assumption that we were on, like, our fifth date or something. One day he walked me home, and gave me a goodnight kiss, and everything clicked.” Ten grins. “So I invited him in, and we talked about it. After fucking, obviously.”

Taeyong laughs out loud. Ten’s straightforwardness is always a breath of fresh air. “What’re you gonna do this fall, though?” he asks. “I mean, Johnny’s going back to the States, right?”

Ten shrugs. “We’ll figure it out. He’s always back in Korea for holidays and stuff, so provided I’m not visiting family in Thailand, it shouldn’t be a problem.” He takes a sip of his beer. “I know the long distance thing is hard, but… I dunno. I really like him, and he really likes me, so we’ll make it happen.”

“That’s really sweet,” Taeyong says.

“And what about you?” Ten asks. “What happened with you and Jaehyun?”

Taeyong makes an awkward noise somewhere between a cough and a laugh. “Ah,” he says. “It just didn’t work out.”

Ten doesn’t press; that’s the other great thing about him. For a moment, Taeyong has a flash of regret. If he’d spent more time with his fellow interns instead of Yuta, he has a feeling he and Ten could’ve become really good friends.

Taeyong gets medium-drunk and decides to stop, a choice he’s very proud of later when Jungwoo is throwing up on the sidewalk while Kun tries to flag down a taxi for him. He says goodbye once he knows Jungwoo’s safely on his way home, and starts the short trek back to his apartment. The night is clear and warm, and the stars blink at him as he walks. All the interns promised they’d keep in touch. Taeyong flips his phone over in his hands. There’s a new group chat on it, right at the top. It’s so easy. Why isn’t everything so easy?

He gets up early the next morning to get a start on packing. His train comes Wednesday afternoon, and Yuta will drop him off. It’s nice, not having to deal with getting a taxi. Taeyong’s just worried that he’ll cry.

Packing goes surprisingly quickly. He didn’t really move in as much as he thought he had—probably because he rarely spent his weekends in this apartment anyway. He removes the drawers from the dresser to check that nothing has fallen behind, and even crawls along the floor to check that there’s nothing that’s slipped under the furniture. He notices a crumpled shadow under his bed and stretches his arm out, sort of army-crawling a foot or two to get at it. He slides back out from underneath his bed and finds the jeans he wore out that first weekend in his hands, now a little dusty. He grimaces, but not from the dirt. He was such a different person at the beginning of the summer, and now he has to return to a place that houses that person, along with all the ghosts of who he used to be, and try to find his place there among them. He has a feeling he’ll find that there isn’t one at all.

Regardless of whether he and Yuta decide to stay together in any capacity, he will go home changed. How is he supposed to pick up the pieces of his old life; how is he supposed to slip back into that mold after all of this? And what about school? Doyoung knows, but what is he going to tell the rest of his friends? Is he going to tell the rest of his friends? And his parents— oh god, his parents. He tries to imagine that conversation.

“So how was your summer?”

“Good. Internship was good.”

“Make any friends?”

“Yeah, lots.”

“What did you do for fun?”

“…”

There’s a certain grief that comes with change, no matter how necessary or inevitable that change is. It’s not that Taeyong wants to stay in this strange city for the rest of his life. It’s not that he won’t be able to move on. It’s just that there’s a piece of him that will cling to this summer forever; there’s a part of him that will miss these last couple of months with a raw keenness he knows at times will stop him in his tracks. And that won’t change, he realizes as he steps into the shower, no matter how much time passes, no matter how many good memories he stacks on top of these ones, no matter how many times he sees Yuta in the future, if he sees him at all. He’ll be in the middle of class, and his mind will wander one step too far, and his ears will be full of ringing. He’ll be on a date with a different man in a different city, living a different life, and something will remind him and his breath will crystallize in his throat. He’ll be forty-five, doing the dishes, and he’ll remember this summer and break the mug he was washing in the sink.

He’s more or less done by the time Yuta swings by. He grabs his overnight bag and trudges down the stairs. He wants to see Yuta, but he’s also dragging his feet a little. He wants every moment slowed down; he wants to scan these last few days frame by frame, heartbeat by heartbeat. The sun blazes down on him as he steps out onto the sizzling pavement. He nearly burns himself on the handle of Yuta’s car doors. Yuta smiles at him as he slides into the passenger seat, and Taeyong wants to tilt forward and bury his face in his chest and stay there for the rest of his life.

“Hey,” he says instead.

“Hey,” Yuta replies. He’s in a random old t-shirt and shorts, but Taeyong doesn’t think he could look any better. “Not too hungover?”

Taeyong shakes his head. “Didn’t drink a whole lot last night.”

“Good,” Yuta says. “Have you eaten?”

“I had toast?” Taeyong replies. “I was busy packing.”

“We’ll have brunch, then,” Yuta decides.

Taeyong desperately wants to ask if Yuta has thought at all about what they want to do after this long weekend, but at the same time, he’s worried it’ll ruin the potentially short time they have left together. So he just watches out the window, tracing over now-familiar streets as they head away from the city and to Yuta’s house.

The sunlight isn’t as harsh inside, even though Yuta’s kitchen boasts big windows. Yuta heats up bone broth while Taeyong fiddles with the rice cooker. Dust particles float across his vision, and aside from the gentle clinking and bubbling from cooking, the only other sound is Yuta’s soft humming.

Yuta comes up behind Taeyong and wraps his arms around him. Taeyong melts backwards into his touch, sighing happily when Yuta presses sweet kisses to his neck. He turns in Yuta’s arms so he can hold him tight, resting his cheek on Yuta’s shoulder.

“You okay, baby?” Yuta murmurs.

“Yeah,” Taeyong replies softly. “You’re comfy, that’s all.” Yuta chuckles lightly, swaying them a little as they wait for their food to heat.

They eat quickly and quietly, and once they’re both full, Taeyong stands to clean the dishes. Yuta stops him with a hand on his wrist, pulling him into his lap. “Leave it,” he says quietly. “We’ll deal with it later. Let me hold you.”

“Oh!” Taeyong sets his bowl down and eagerly crawls into Yuta’s lap, straddling his thighs, his feet dangling a few inches off the floor. Yuta rubs his back over his t-shirt, letting out a soft, satisfied grunt when Taeyong stops trying to hold himself up and drops his full weight onto him. Taeyong brushes Yuta’s hair back with both hands, scratching lightly at his scalp, and Yuta closes his eyes briefly, smiling.

“Hey,” Yuta murmurs. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.”

Taeyong’s breath hitches in his throat. “I have, too,” he says.

“I don’t want this to end,” Yuta says, and Taeyong’s eyes widen, his heart fluttering in his chest. “I know it’s a lot to ask of you, and it’s okay if you don’t agree. I just want you to know where I am. I like you a lot, Taeyong. And even though we won’t be able to see each other as often, I still want—you. Is that okay?”

“Oh my god, yes,” Taeyong says quickly. “I—I don’t mind if we don’t see each other much, I won’t want anybody else anyway.”

“Are you sure?” Yuta holds him in place, his expression sincere. “It’s—I mean, I don’t want to make things harder for you.”

“This is making things easier,” Taeyong insists.

“Yeah?” Yuta’s eyes crinkle with happiness. “Good, because I don’t want to give you up again.”

Taeyong surges forward and kisses him. Yuta wants him. Yuta wants to keep him. “I was worried all this week,” he admits when he pulls away to breathe. “I mean, I’d understand. It won’t be easy, and you have your career, and I’m basically just some random kid—”

“I hope you know you’re more than just a random kid to me now,” Yuta interrupts. “You’re right, it won’t be easy, but we’re smart, right? We’ll figure something out.” Taeyong laughs, giddy in his relief. “We can call often, and I’ll come visit you from time to time. Luckily, I’m not very recognizable,” Yuta continues with a grin. “I’ll get a hotel room nearby, and stop on campus to drop off a key. And you can come over after your classes are done. Sound good?”

“Yeah,” Taeyong breathes out. He was so tense all week, and he’s only now realizing because he’s deflating into a tired, withered, but happy little version of himself right here in Yuta’s lap. “Really good.”

Yuta cups his cheek, stroking his thumb across the soft skin under Taeyong’s eye. “I thought about being in this big empty house without you as the weather turns cold, and knowing you’d be lonely in a shitty little dorm room hours away, and it broke my heart a bit,” he says. Taeyong makes a small, sad noise in his throat. He never really considered Yuta would be lonely without him, but now he pictures it—just Yuta shuffling around in his house, all on his own, and it’s almost painful. I could never leave him all alone like that. “You can send me your class schedule, and that way I’ll know when I can bug you,” Yuta continues.

Taeyong threads his fingers through Yuta’s hair, resuming his little scalp massage. “I will,” he says. “I know you like to go into town when you’re lonely, but when the days get shorter and the weather gets worse, it won’t always be safe for you to come down the big hill. So you should just call me when that happens, okay?”

“Okay,” Yuta agrees with a light laugh. “My little boy,” he adds softly. “So good to me.”

Taeyong hums, shaking his head. “I like being around you,” he says. “Even if it’s just over the phone. So I’m glad I get to do it more.”

Yuta’s smile grows. “I’m glad we got that out of the way,” he says, his voice low. “I want to do so many things with you this weekend.”

“With me, or to me?” Taeyong asks pointedly, biting back a giggle.

“A little bit of both,” Yuta concedes, his smile sharp and wicked and charming. “Maybe all at once. What d’you think?”

“Yes,” Taeyong says, squirming in Yuta’s lap. “Want it.”

Yuta kisses him, licking and biting at his lips, messy and rough the way Taeyong loves. He rolls his hips without even thinking about it, aching for friction, aching for more contact. Yuta presses his palm over Taeyong’s crotch, where his cock is just beginning to harden in his sweats. “I was thinking maybe we could make it upstairs for once,” he says. “But it seems like we have something to take care of. That’s okay,” he adds, when Taeyong whines a little in embarrassment. “You know I like it when you’re needy.” He takes a hold of Taeyong’s cock through his pants. “I like it when you let this do all your thinking.” He tugs a little, and Taeyong moans in surprise. “You get so desperate, you’ll take anything, right?”

“Don’t be mean,” Taeyong complains, trying to thrust up into Yuta’s fist. Yuta doesn’t let him. “Da-ddyyy,” he whines reproachfully.

“What about this, baby?” Yuta says, like they’re trying to come to an agreement about what they want for dinner. “You ride my thigh till you come, and then we’ll go upstairs so I can fuck you where it’s more comfy?”

“Okay,” Taeyong huffs, already rocking a little against Yuta’s palm. Yuta changes their position, grabbing Taeyong’s hips to move him up off one of his legs. He drives the one still between Taeyong’s thighs up a bit, and Taeyong pitches forward, bracing himself against Yuta’s shoulders. Yuta has one hand splayed on Taeyong’s lower back, and the other cupping his ass.

Taeyong considers pausing to take his pants off, but he doesn’t really care. Plus, he has a feeling Yuta will like how desperate and pathetic it makes him look—shit, he likes how desperate and pathetic it makes him feel. He’s gonna come in his pants because he couldn’t be bothered to wait, like a dumb slut. It’s already messy; he ruts against the hard muscle of Yuta’s thigh, the head of his cock bumping against Yuta’s stomach every now and again, and he can feel how wet he is, underwear sticky with precome. It’s dirty, and makes him feel so stupid in the best way, because that’s how Yuta likes him. Nothing else matters.

One of Yuta’s hands slips below his waistband, and Taeyong struggles between wanting to arch back into his touch, and wanting to get off as fast as possible so Yuta will fuck him. He does a bit of both, and Yuta presses his fingertips into his flesh, almost possessively. Taeyong whimpers when he bounces his leg ever-so-slightly. Yuta murmurs encouragement at him that he barely hears “—Sound so sweet, baby, so perfect for me—“ because he’s stroking a finger over Taeyong’s entrance now.

“Mm, daddy,” Taeyong slurs. Yuta gently works the tip of one of his fingers in, and Taeyong screws his eyes shut, dropping his head down chin-to-chest, thrusting faster against Yuta’s thigh. Yuta moves his hands with him, pressing his finger in little by little as Taeyong rocks and trembles and moans on top of him. “More, more,” he pleads.

Yuta clicks his tongue at him in mock disapproval. “I’m already helping you too much,” he says, but he doesn’t pull his finger out. It burns a little since it’s dry, but Taeyong doesn’t care, almost likes it better that way. Yuta finally brushes his prostate, and Taeyong lets out a low moan, satisfaction making his head muddled and cloudy. “Good?”

“S’good,” Taeyong agrees. He’s slid down Yuta’s leg at this point, and because his pants need to accommodate Yuta’s hand, his cock has slipped from its place beside his thigh, and now pokes over his waistband. Yuta just draws him closer so he fuck up against his stomach. Taeyong can feel the hard bulge of Yuta’s cock against his leg as he moves, and he whimpers. He debates putting his own orgasm on the back burner in favor of riling Yuta up to see if it’ll get him to fuck him here and now, but he quickly abandons the idea. He knows Yuta will be able to fuck him better on his bed. Besides, Taeyong doesn’t want to put his orgasm on the back burner. He wants to come.

Yuta holds Taeyong flush to his body, stroking over his prostate again and again, cooing at the frustrated noises Taeyong makes as his cock dribbles precome over his sweats and Yuta’s shirt, leaving dark, slick stains. Taeyong doesn’t have the space to be embarrassed, though he registers in the back of his head that maybe he should be.  Instead, it just fuels him, and he moves faster, a staccato kind of moan sneaking its way out through his clenched teeth.

“Look at you,” Yuta says, half patronizing, half praise. “So come-dumb already.”

“Feels s-so naughty, daddy,” Taeyong says.

“Mm, but it’s good, right?” Yuta pets Taeyong’s prostate as he talks. “Remember that day when I asked if I should see how many times I could make you come, to see if it would help with you being such an incurable little slut?” Taeyong manages to nod, hiccuping out whimpers, not slowing a bit as Yuta continues talking. “Wanna try it before you leave? Just to see what your limit is?”

Taeyong gasps. “Oh, yes,” he manages, cock throbbing as he thinks about Yuta making him come over and over and over, until all his orgasms are completely dry, until he’s limp in his hands and only half-conscious, until he’s sore all over and can’t even get hard anymore. Pleasure unfurls in his belly, and the next time Yuta brushes his prostate, he’s coming, hips twitching of their own accord as he spills his release all over his and Yuta’s clothes, shuddering through tiny moans.

Yuta helps him to his feet with a hundred kisses, telling him how good he was, how pretty he looked. He helps him out of his clothes and leaves him teetering and a little dazed in the entrance to the kitchen while he goes to throw all their clothing in the laundry room sink to soak. He’s back in an instant, naked and beautiful, sweeping his hair from his eyes with his hand, earrings glinting in the light.

“C’mon,” he says, steering Taeyong up the stairs. “Your reward.”

“And yours,” Taeyong mutters, and Yuta laughs.

“You caught me,” he says, leaving Taeyong to get settled on the bed while he gets lube.

Taeyong arranges himself on his back, head resting in the comfort of the pillows. The sheets are soft and soothing on his hot skin, and he nestles further into the mattress, bending his knees, planting his feet, and dropping his legs open as Yuta saunters up to him, lube in hand.

Yuta slinks onto the bed, crawling up to him, fitting the crooks of Taeyong’s knees around his waist. “Jesus, you look so good,” he says, like he’s not even really thinking about what he’s saying. His eyes rove Taeyong’s body, and he fluffs Taeyong’s hair a little, kissing the corner of his mouth before sitting back so he can open the lube. “The blue hair was cute,” he says. “And you’re gorgeous no matter what. But I do love your black hair. It makes you look more real, and less like an incredibly elaborate daydream.”

His frankness surprises a peal of laughter out of Taeyong. “You think I look like a daydream?” he asks.

“Sometimes,” Yuta says as he pushes a slick finger into Taeyong, realizing he’s still loose and immediately adding another. “I think I made you up. Not that I imagine guys your age often. I just think about you,” he adds, and Taeyong snickers.

“I didn’t think that,” he assures him. “It’s just funny, because sometimes I think, like, you’re straight out of one of my fantasies. Like, that’s how I think about it. And I just think it’s hilarious that you’re using a cute word like daydream, and telling me you think about me. Meanwhile, finding you gave me a face to complete a vision I kind of already had, that I kind of already thought about.”

“Well, it’s different for you,” Yuta points out, and Taeyong knows he’s right. They’re quiet for a moment, and Taeyong lets himself get lost a little in pleasure. He loves getting fingered, and Yuta somehow does it just right. “I do think about you, though,” Yuta says. “Not just in a sexual way—I mean, have no doubt, I do that too.” He affords himself a short laugh before continuing. “I mean like, my memory of you keeps me company when you’re not here.”

His confession is electrifying. “I know what you mean,” Taeyong says, his voice wavering a little. He never wanted to even hope it was true, that Yuta took comfort in the thought of him the way he did in the thought of Yuta. No one could need him that way, right? Least of all Yuta; least of all now. And yet, here he was. “I think about you like that, too.”

“I know.” Yuta pauses his movements, kind eyes finding Taeyong’s. “I just thought you might like to hear me say it.”

And there Yuta goes again, offering Taeyong comfort like a neatly wrapped present, complete with a perfect, pretty little bow. The tag says I know you. There isn’t a gift receipt.

Taeyong can’t stop thinking about it; it lingers there in the back of his mind even when Yuta folds him in half, pressing his knees into the mattress next to his ears and fucks him so good his eyes cross. It’s still not love, though now, maybe it will be, in time. But there’s an undercurrent of understanding that flows between them, an anticipatory sort of care. Taeyong still isn’t very good at predicting Yuta’s actions, but he’s figuring it out. Yuta is teaching him by showing; open-palmed, generous, and vulnerable.

Taeyong’s teeth clack from the way Yuta’s fucking him, and he lets his thoughts slip out of his head. It’s good content for a rainy day alone in his dorm, but now he loops his hands around the back of Yuta’s neck and pulls him closer. Now he moans open-mouthed against the flushed skin of Yuta’s chest. Now he lets Yuta kiss bruises into his sternum. Now, he whimpers out daddy, daddy, daddy in time with each stroke of the head of Yuta’s cock against his abused prostate.

Yuta comes first, practically growling Taeyong’s name in his ear, and he makes Taeyong come with his hands and his mouth before he’s even caught his breath. They clean up, and then roll around in bed for a while just because they can.

Taeyong lays half on top of Yuta’s chest, warm and drowsy in the sunlight, tracing lines into his skin with his fingertips. Yuta hums as he plays with Taeyong’s hair. Things are so good like this. Taeyong wishes this weekend would last forever; a never-ending mirage in a scorching summer sunset, just Yuta and him.

~ * ~

Sunday morning after breakfast, Yuta suggests they dress up like they were at that lecture series so that they can take a picture together. He pulls out his gorgeous blue suit, and they stand against the nondescript white wall of his foyer and use the self-timer on Taeyong’s phone. It’s a little awkward because they have to act professional, but it comes out well.

“I won’t be able to put it up in my dorm room,” Taeyong says regretfully. “In case someone recognizes you when you come to visit. But it’s really nice to have.”

Yuta kisses the crown of his head. “I know,” he says.

Taeyong doesn’t let Yuta take the suit off. All he has to do, really, is make his eyes big and pretty and tell him, “But you just look so handsome, daddy,” and Yuta bends to his will, shrugging the jacket back on.

Yuta has a few things to read that day for work, so he sits up in bed with Taeyong curled into his side, brushing his fingers through Taeyong’s hair as he reads. Taeyong starts fiddling with the waistband and button of Yuta’s pants, and after a few moments, Yuta puts his reading to the side and tugs a little on Taeyong’s hair to get his attention.

“Do you want something?” he asks quietly, a ribbon of amusement fluttering through his tone.

“Can I suck your cock?” Taeyong asks, and Yuta huffs out laughter. “Or not even suck it, just like—use my mouth to keep it warm till you’re done, and then maybe suck it?”

Yuta gives a little disbelieving shake of his head. “Alright, but you better stay still,” he says. “Last time we tried something like this, I distinctly remember you being a terrible little brat.”

“Won’t,” Taeyong insists. “I just like having something in my mouth. And it—it feels good.”

“You mean it makes you feel used,” Yuta says as he unzips his fly.

Taeyong blushes. “You know I like feeling like a doll,” he mutters as he shifts down so he can rest his head in Yuta’s lap.

“I’m not teasing,” Yuta says softly, running his thumb over the hollow of Taeyong’s cheekbone. “You’re so hot, you know that?”

Taeyong brushes some of his hair out of his eyes and opens his mouth, lolling his tongue out a little and looking up at Yuta innocently. “I think in time you could convince me,” he replies, and Yuta smiles.

He lets Yuta guide the head of his cock into his mouth. He licks over it a little just to get it wet, but then goes still like he promised. He really isn’t intent on misbehaving today; he meant it when he said he liked the feeling. Yuta’s cock is heavy in his mouth, and he closes his eyes, breathing evenly around it as best he can. He doesn’t try to take him deeper or hollow his cheeks; he just holds it there, letting spit gather in his mouth. Yuta strokes his hair. “Good boy,” he whispers, and Taeyong allows himself the tiniest of moans. “When I’m done, I’ll fuck you, okay?”

Taeyong gives a little nod, and Yuta goes back to his reading, though he keeps one hand on his cheek. It’s so gentle and sweet, but so deliciously depraved at the same time. Taeyong’s hard in his jeans, and he feels almost drunk, head spinning. He doesn’t know why this kind of stuff gets him so bad. He thinks it’s a combination of feeling owned and just enjoying feeling full.

Yuta reads placidly, and Taeyong goes limp, almost dozing as he waits for him to finish. It probably isn’t more than an hour, though Taeyong really would have no way of knowing. But eventually, Yuta shifts around and pats his cheek, and Taeyong reluctantly pulls off his cock. A thick string of spit stretches from his lip the head of Yuta’s cock, glittering in the afternoon sunlight. Yuta wipes it away with his thumb before kissing Taeyong, sweet and deep.

“You were so good,” Yuta says, cupping his jaw. “So patient. My perfect baby boy.”

Taeyong’s whole body is weak from the praise. “For you, daddy,” he replies, and Yuta groans in the back of his throat, pushing Taeyong down on the bed. Taeyong feels so little and stupid and precious in Yuta’s hands, and his cock twitches a little in anticipation. Yuta rolls him over, pulling his pants down around his ankles and grabbing the lube off the bedside table from where they left it the night before.

Yuta opens him up with a sort of direct purpose—it’s not that he rushes it, but he does it with the clear intent of stretching Taeyong wide open as efficiently as possible. Taeyong can’t do anything except muffle his moans in the duvet and let Yuta stroke his walls with three fingers, and then four.

“Does it hurt?” Yuta asks, pumping his fingers in-out, in-out.

“Mm-mm,” Taeyong replies. “Feel’s nice,” he says, adding, “Your cock would feel nicer.”

Yuta pulls his fingers out and pulls Taeyong backwards by the hips until his toes are dangling over the edge of the bed. Taeyong yelps in his surprise, tapering it to a moan when Yuta plants a hand between his shoulder blades, guiding him to arch his back, head buried in his forearms.

He hears the rustling of fabric. “You’ve got quite a mouth, you know,” Yuta says as he lines himself up. “You think I don’t know what I’m doing?” he continues as he presses in. Taeyong just responds by moaning. “You think I don’t know how to make my baby feel good?” He curls over Taeyong’s body as he bottoms out, and grinds against Taeyong’s prostate. Soft cries bubble up out of Taeyong’s lips. His tongue is so heavy. “Hm? You think daddy doesn’t know how to fuck you right?”

“N-no,” Taeyong protests, knees knocking when Yuta rolls his hips nice and slow.

“You’re lucky I like you,” Yuta says, but he follows it with a few tender kisses down Taeyong’s spine. “Lucky you’re pretty,” he says as he stands back up, readjusting his grip on Taeyong’s hips. “Lucky you’ve got such a nice body.” He pulls almost all the way out, just until the very tip of his cock is resting at Taeyong’s entrance, and then pushes back in, and does it again and again and again. “You were so tight the first time I fucked you,” he comments. “But now I just have to spend a couple extra minutes when I’m prepping you, and you open right up. Take me so well.” He presses a finger in beside his cock, and Taeyong sobs as his cock drips precome down his inner thighs.

“Don’t,” he whines, absolutely not meaning it. Yuta just pushes his finger in farther. Taeyong can picture his wide, devious grin. “Daddy, no, ’s embarrassing.”

Yuta relents, pulling his finger out, and goes back to gaping him instead. “Sorry baby,” he says unapologetically. “You just always manage to surprise me. Wish you could see yourself right now. You’re so loose.” Taeyong can feel it; he can feel the cold breeze of the air conditioning where he’s all exposed; he can feel some extra lube leak out with Yuta’s next thrust in and drip down his thigh. “You’re ruined, honey,” Yuta says, and Taeyong whines in complaint. “Who did this to you, huh?”

“You, daddy,” Taeyong accuses. “We’ve talked about this.”

Yuta’s definitely smiling now; Taeyong can hear it in his voice. “That’s right,” he says, like he’s only just recalling it. “I did. But that’s okay, right? I don’t mind, and neither do you, and you’re my little boy, so—“ He thrusts in extra-hard and Taeyong squeals. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Yuta’s little boy. Taeyong’s pretty sure he’s drooling, though he can’t reach up to check. “Daddy,” he mumbles around his clumsy tongue as Yuta finally stops teasing, and sets a normal pace.

Yuta’s touch is smooth and soothing down his back. “Right here, honey,” he says, and Taeyong decides he could die right now and it would be just fine. “I’ve got you.”

Yuta starts to really fuck him now, making Taeyong’s toes curl against the edge of the mattress. Yuta’s thrusts are harsh and deep—Taeyong’s nose is shoved into the sheets almost painfully. He tries to clench around Yuta, but he’s already too unsteady. The only reason he hasn’t slipped onto his side is that Yuta is holding him in place as he pounds him into the bed. Taeyong couldn’t talk if he tried, instead just letting out short little moans with every exhale.

Taeyong’s body hardly knows how to keep up with everything that’s happening to it as it is, and then Yuta wraps a hand around Taeyong’s cock without warning. He strokes him a couple of times, and then thumbs at the slit. Taeyong screams before he can stop himself, and quickly tries to bite it back into smaller noises. But, fuck, it feels good. What else is he supposed to do when Yuta knows exactly how to touch him? He realizes a few tears have rolled down his cheeks, but it’s not even from pain. It’s just everything; with Yuta, everything feels like the best he’s ever had, and one of these days, his poor little heart is going to give out from the shock of it all.

“You’re so hard,” Yuta comments, strained. “It looks painful. D’you wanna come?”

“Mm-hmm, mm-hmm.” It’s the best Taeyong can do, but Yuta understands, speeding up his fist. “Mmm my god, daddy—ah!” He really wants to tell Yuta how good he feels, but he can’t, not with Yuta hitting his prostate dead on with every thrust, not with the way he fills him up, not with the way Taeyong can hear and feel how wet his hole is. He thinks he’s proud, honestly, that he’ll let Yuta make him this messy just because it’s what he wanted to see today.

“You like it? You like it when I fuck you facedown like this, like a little whore?” Yuta asks. He twists the hand that’s around Taeyong’s cock a little.

“Oh, fuck,” Taeyong whimpers. “Yes,” he adds when he remembers he’s supposed to be answering him.

“So good for me, baby,” Yuta grits out, fingers digging into the soft flesh of Taeyong’s waist. “I’m gonna come.”

Taeyong can feel it, the way he shakes, the way the hand around his cock has become erratic and unsure, the way his hips twitch a little; Yuta only ever goes this fast when he’s close. It’s become a bit painful now, and fresh tears spring to Taeyong’s eyes and spill thick and hot over his waterline, clinging to his lashes when he tries to blink them away.

“Does it hurt?” Yuta asks, voice low and gravelly in his ear.

“Yeah,” Taeyong says, voice tiny and helpless. “B-but I like it. Like it when you make me cry.”

“Of course—fuck—of course you do,” Yuta pants out. “Shit, shit, baby—” He grunts a little as he stills inside Taeyong, still jerking him off lazily as he comes, warm and wet.

He pulls out when he’s done, and Taeyong feels his come leak out of his hole immediately. There’s nothing Taeyong can do about it, and he whines when Yuta focuses on Taeyong’s cock once more, speeding up again, his hand slick with Taeyong’s precome.

“Lemme see you come, honey,” Yuta encourages.

Taeyong tries to form words, he really does, but there’s no space between his moans. And then Yuta takes two fingers and scoops some of his release up where it’s dripping down the back of Taeyong’s legs and shoves it back in, and Taeyong cries, coming hard in Yuta’s hands, making a mess on the sheets. Yuta strokes him through the aftershocks, humming happily in the back of his throat.

Once Taeyong’s spent, Yuta gathers him up in his arms. “Oh, you look so sweet,” he murmurs, wiping his tears away.

“Got your nice suit all dirty,” Taeyong whispers, and Yuta laughs.

“Small price to pay,” he replies, kissing Taeyong’s nose, “for your happiness.”

~ * ~

The days pass much faster than Taeyong would like, and too soon it’s Wednesday morning. He blinks himself awake, and dread crashes over him. Yuta’s still sleeping beside him, but it’s about time they got up, so Taeyong rolls over and kisses his cheek and jaw until he wakes up.

“We should probably get started on breakfast,” Taeyong says, unable to keep the terrible sadness out of his voice.

Yuta twists around to look at the clock. “We still have a little time,” he says. “C’mere. Let me hold you for a while.”

Taeyong snuggles closer, and Yuta wraps his arms around him and kisses his hair. “I don’t wanna leave,” Taeyong says quietly.

“I know,” Yuta says. “But you have to. And it’ll be okay.”

“I know,” Taeyong says. They’re quiet for a moment. “Thank you,” he says. “For this summer. I know you thought you were taking something away from me, but I loved every minute. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“I wanted to thank you, too,” Yuta says. “I had so much fun, and came out of it with you. I don’t mean this in a burdensome way,” he continues, laughing. “But you are one of the best things that’s ever happened to me, you know?”

“That’s a little sad,” Taeyong replies, though he’s fighting giggles. “You must not have had a lot of nice things happen to you.”

“Stop it,” Yuta replies. “You’re better than you know.”

They work their way through breakfast, and Taeyong lingers in the kitchen, drying the dishes. Yuta brings his bag down, and they stand facing each other in the hallway for a moment. “It’s almost noon,” Yuta says finally. “Come on. Don’t wanna miss your train.”

Taeyong kind of wants to miss his train. He kind of wants to stay right here, say oops, I thought it was next week! He wants to drag Yuta home with him, and then to school, get an apartment in his college town together.

He gets into the car instead.

Yuta helps him drag his luggage down the stairs (“This is the one you hit me with that day outside the station, I remember!” Yuta exclaims, patting the handle of one of the suitcases fondly), and then they drive downtown to the train station.

Yuta parks and helps Taeyong carry all his things onto the platform. He helps him load them up in the overhead bins while one of the conductors watches seriously, assuming Yuta’s trying to hop on the train without a ticket. Once Taeyong’s things are settled, they step back out of the train onto the platform.

“Text me when you get home,” Yuta says.

“I’ll text you the whole ride home,” Taeyong replies.

“Tell me when it’s convenient to call,” Yuta adds. “It’s okay if it’s not until you’re moved back into your dorm. I can wait. I won’t get too lonely.”

“I will,” Taeyong says, “get too lonely. I’ll call you when my parents are at work.”

Yuta groans good-naturedly. “Makes me feel like a terrible person.”

“You’re not.” Taeyong runs his thumb over Yuta’s knuckles. “Better than you know, remember?” He pats Yuta’s chest. “Your fragile old heart is still a good one.”

Yuta laughs, and pulls him in for a hug. Taeyong squeezes tightly. “I’m gonna miss you, honey,” Yuta says, and Taeyong feels his bottom lip tremble.

“Gonna miss you, too, daddy,” he whispers. Yuta rubs his back.

“We’ll see each other soon, yeah?” he offers as consolation.

Taeyong clings to it. “Yeah,” he agrees, “soon.”

A whistle blows. “You better go,” Yuta says, prying Taeyong off him. “No, don’t look so sad. It’s not goodbye forever. I promise.” His eyes are bright with the same pain that sits heavy on Taeyong’s shoulders and burns at his eyes, but he gives Taeyong a smile. “Go,” he repeats.

“Bye,” Taeyong says, taking one step back, and then another and another. “See you.” He turns, and ducks into the train.

When he’s settled in his seat, he looks out the window and sees Yuta still standing there, watching. He waves, and Yuta waves back. Taeyong puts a smile on his face. He wants the last thing Yuta sees of him to be happy.

The doors are all shut, and the train lurches to life. As the conductor comes down the aisle to check their tickets, Taeyong presses himself to the window, keeping eye contact with Yuta even as they pull away. He stares hard until they round a corner and he can’t see him anymore.

He hands his ticket over to be punched, and as soon as the conductor leaves him alone, he buries his face in his hands, curling towards the window, and cries. It’ll be fine. He knows it’ll be fine. It’s just so hard. He’s always been bad at letting go.

His phone buzzes in his hand, and he looks down, brushing tears away so he can read it. It’s from Yuta. Keep your chin up, baby, it says. Don’t cry. We’ve only known each other for a few months. We still have the rest of our lives.

Taeyong can’t even try to reply just yet. He lets out a shaky laugh. Yuta knows him so fucking well. He knew he’d cry. He knew what he’d need to hear. Yeah, he thinks. I guess things will be okay, after all.

[labyrinthof-fan-fiction]

Fever {3}

Series Masterlist

A/N: So for my purposes, I’ve decided to age Jake up to 18. It works better for me, rather than the younger by two years. I am not a licensed therapist, so take that portrayal with a grain of salt. This is a Renèe slander account. I also hated the bikes, or at least her reasoning for the bikes, so I removed the bikes. So basically please just accept that this fic is 99.9% OOC.

Warnings: Depression, Anxiety, Abandonment, Therapy Session

Summary: Bella’s first therapy session, family dinner at the Black’s.

Rating: M

Word Count: 2,905

Monday came faster than I had expected. School was better, Jessica and I made plans to get through Calculus tomorrow after school, not without her making a welcome back from zombieland comment, which I couldn’t blame her for. Dad picked me up in the cruiser for the appointment with Dr. Gilbert. The drive to Port Angeles was a silent hour, I pondered what I was going to say to this therapist. Obviously, my ex-boyfriend was a vampire and I almost died due to an unhinged vampire hunting me and luring me into an old dance studio wasn’t the best opening line. I almost died on my eighteenth birthday due to a paper cut, maybe I should just stick away from the near death experiences. Mentioning vampires would probably award me a decent vacation and a straight jacket.

Dad checked me in at the office and we sat awkwardly in the waiting room. He picked up a fishing magazine and I picked at my nails. I was torn from contemplating my nail beds when the secretary called my name. I followed her into a room with a large couch, a woman sat in a chair across from it.

“Hello Bella, I’m Dr. Gilbert.” She was tall, her dark hair was tucked up into a bun. Black glasses were perched on her nose. She had a nice smile, kind, welcoming.

“Hi.” I mumbled as she gestured for me to sit on the couch.

“Tell me about yourself, Bella.” Dr. Gilbert stated, clipboard balanced on her lap, a pen in her hand.

“I don’t know, there’s not much to tell.” I murmured, crossing my legs under me on the couch. I pulled my sweater around my body, I was cold again. I probably could have started with my childhood, isn’t that what you’re supposed to do when you start therapy. Tell them all about your childhood, blame it on your mom…. Which, maybe wasn’t too far off.

She pursed her lips and nodded. “I see you’re a senior, what are your plans after you graduate this year?”

I nibbled on my bottom lip, “To be honest, I’m not sure. I had a plan, but that’s changed. I think maybe college, or a gap year to save. I think I want to go to college.”

She nodded and scribbled on her paper. “What do you think you’d like to do?”

I chuckled, “I don’t know.”

“It’s okay to not have a plan, Bella.”

“I know, but everyone around me has a plan, colleges they’ve been accepted to. And I’m just…..” I gestured vaguely into the air.

Dr. Gilbert chuckled, “Sometimes those with the plans aren’t as put together as they seem. When I was your age, I was going to be a professional cellist. Got into Juliard and was ready. I got there, and realized that wasn’t what I wanted to do with my life. I still play the cello, I’m a part of the local orchestra, but I’m not doing what I had planned. You have time. Tell me about your friends.”

I hesitated. “I have a few, we haven’t hung out as much, I…” I trailed off, not sure how to explain that I had been an emotionless blob for months and wasn’t sure where I stood with my friends.

She hummed, “They’ve been too busy?”

I chuckled, “They’ve been busy, I’ve been dealing with some stuff.”

“Care to elaborate?” She raised one of her sculpted eyebrows.

I sighed and pulled my knees to my chin and wrapped my arms around my legs. “My boyfriend broke up with me.”

“Tell me about him.” She stated.

“He would come through my window and watch me sleep.” I murmured. “He oiled the latch so it wouldn’t wake me. God, I thought it was romantic, he could have killed me. He could have done anything he wanted. And I would have let him. I let him control me.” The scratching of a pen on paper filled the moment I took a breath. “I thought that love meant he was allowed to control me, but that’s not love, is it?”

Dr. Gilbert looked at me. “I think you know the answer.” She paused, pursing her lips.

I nibbled on my bottom lip. “Why didn’t I know?”

She glanced at me. “He was your first boyfriend, right?” I nodded. “First loves are intense.” Her eyes wandered away from me. “You’re allowed to have strong feelings after something like this.”

“Is it normal to feel like you’re stuck in a void, just lost to the pain?” I asked, before I could stop myself.

Dr. Gilbert eyed me carefully. “There are several stages to grief, it sounds like you have begun the depression stage. But the stages aren’t always a linear progression, you can shift between them and go back and forth.” She was jotting things down on her paper. “How long have you felt lost to the pain?”

“A few months, five maybe?” I said quietly.

“That’s a long time to feel that way.” She glanced at her watch. “Do you feel that way now?”

I shook my head. “I feel like I just got out of the middle of it and I’ve started to come back to the real world.”

She nodded. “I want to you pay attention to what you do this week, if anything sets you back to this. That way we can find out what triggers this.” She sighed, “Unfortunately, that is time up, I’d like to see you next week at the same time, if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, that should work, I can check with my dad.” I said.

“It was nice to meet you, Bella.” She said, standing. I stood up and shook her outstretched hand.

“So how was it?” Dad asked as he started the cruiser.

“Good, I like her.” I answered, giving him a small smile. He glanced over to me, a curious look on his face, I tilted my head. “I think this is going to help.”

“Good.” He paused before pulling out of the parking lot. “Billy invited us over for dinner on Friday.”

My head snapped to him. “Billy?” The last time Billy Black had interacted with me, he had warned me away from Edward, hindsight, he was right. He had bribed Jacob to come to prom and warn me off the Cullens.

“Yeah, says he misses me.” Dad chuckled. “I think it’s a ploy to get me to go fishing again.”

I let out a small laugh. “Will Jacob be there?”

Dad raised his eyebrow. “Probably, why do you want to know?”

I shrugged, “Haven’t seen him since I bought the truck, thought he might be able to help with the radio.” That sentence did not sound as nonchalant as I had been hoping.

A twinkle was in Dad’s eye. “I think he could help with…your radio.”

I groaned and hid my head in my arms. “Dad…” I whined.

Dad let out a loud laugh, “Sorry.” He most definitely was not.

The next day at school was uneventful, that was until after school tutoring with Jessica. She flopped into the chair next to me, a scowl on her face.

“Hey, Jess.” I greeted.

“Hi, sorry. Fucking Mike.” She grumbled, apparently in my zombie state I had missed the constant on and off again relationship she and Mike had been navigating. According to Angela, I hadn’t missed much, all you could do was watch like a weekly soap opera. “So, let’s get to this.”

Jess was extremely patient, considering how many questions I asked, about concepts that we probably learned at the beginning of the year. By the time our hour was up, I felt like I could muddle through the homework, rather than just stare and hope the pages filled themselves. “Thanks, Jess. I really appreciate your help.”

She smiled, “No problem, just don’t slip off into Zombie Bella, she’s not cool. Same time next week?”

“If you can.” I answered.

“See you tomorrow and Tuesdays for calculus.” She paused before she left. “And, if you ever need to talk about it. Ange and I are here. She doesn’t have much experience with this end of things, but she’s a good listener.”

“Thanks, maybe sometime.” She gave me a knowing look before giving me a quick wave and leaving. The rest of the week I settled back in with the group who had been my first friends when I stated in at Forks High. Sure, Lauren and I were never going to be best friends, but I had friends again. And these friends weren’t going to accidentally eat me.

Friday came and Dad let me drive the truck to La Push, he crawled into the passenger seat, eyes falling on the radio. His eyebrows almost hit his hairline, but he didn’t say anything about it. The drive was quiet, with the occasional direction or turn from Dad. I parked in front of the Black’s home, it was a small red home, it was familiar. I knew that I had spent time here when I was younger, but that was so long ago, the memories had faded. A dark head of hair popped up behind a window and the door to the house flew open.

“Bella!” Jacob called, he was taller than I last saw him, broader too. His black hair was loose around his face, his eyes bright with a huge smile beaming on his face. He was like sunshine personified.

Dad opened the door. “Yeah, Jake, good to see you too.” He muttered, walking into the house without even glancing back at us.

Jacob smiled as he got to my door. “Dad said Charlie had been saying something about your radio…” His eyes traveled to the beat up mess in my dashboard.

“I didn’t like the song…” I offered.

His eyes were wide as I stepped out. “Care to let me know the song, so I don’t play it by accident?”

“I don’t know, it was on a station that I don’t listen to anymore.” I replied, jumping down from the truck to the ground. I had to tilt my head back to look at him. “How did you get taller?”

“Maybe you shrunk.” He teased, nodding to the doorway. “We better get in there, before those two start planning our wedding.” At my shocked face he paused. “C’mon Bella, you can’t tell me that you didn’t know those two in there have been trying to find ways to get us together since the first summer you were here.”

I shook my head, “I hadn’t known.”

Jacob eyed my curiously, “Really? You never noticed how much Charlie brought you down here?”

I shook my head again, following him into the house. When we entered, both of our fathers were seated in the kitchen, eagerly watching the door. “Hey, Billy.” I greeted awkwardly.

A smile split his face. “It is great to see you again, Bella. You look well.” There was a glint in his eye as he looked at me, I knew there was more to that statement, the lack of a vampire boyfriend for one.

“I’m doing my best.” I shrugged, taking the seat to the right of Dad, leaving the only seat open for Jacob, directly across from me.

“So Jake, what do you think the damage on Bella’s radio is?” Dad asked, spooning food onto his plate.

Jacob’s eyes flicked over to me. “I’m thinking she’s going to need a new one Charlie.”

I sighed, “Or I could just go without music, not a big deal.”

Billy’s eyes were on me again. I felt like I was under a microscope. “The current music that is released is shit anyways, can’t blame you for losing it on the radio.”

I chuckled, dinner was, different. It felt so familiar, but I know the last time I had dinner at the Blacks, Jacob and I were at an age of single digits. It was odd, us being just a few months shy of the other. Last year, his seventeen had seemed so far from my seventeen, he still had his baby face. But now, he had just reached eighteen and he had changed. He was more angular, bigger, more muscle, and impossibly taller.

“Bella?” A voice interrupted me, I glanced over to see Jacob across from me, his head tilted. “Earth to Bells?”

“Yeah, I’m here.” I answered, “What did you need?”

“Just was asking if you wanted me to check out your radio? Maybe fully remove it from the dash?”

“Yeah, that’d be great.”

He smiled, “Let’s go, leave these two alone. We can deal with the aftermath later.”

I giggled, actually giggled, and followed him out of the house, trying to ignore the gleeful look in our fathers’ eyes. Jake stopped by my truck.

“I’m gonna have to rip that out, there’s no saving it. You really did a number on it.” He said, shaking his head at it. “That was a nice radio.”

I shuffled my feet. “Yeah, I kinda lost it.”

He remained silent, glancing back toward the house. “Want to pull this in the garage and I can get the remains out so we can put the radio to rest?”

“Sure.” I said, hopping into the truck. Jake started walking through the yard and I followed him. The garage was behind the house, small, but hidden by trees and shrubbery, I doubt you could see much of it from the house. Which, if what Jacob had said about our fathers was true, was probably a good thing. I pulled up next to it as he came out with a small toolbox. Jake hopped into the passenger seat of the truck, lifted the toolbox lid and took out an assortment of screwdrivers.

He started in on the radio, removing screws with sure fingers until it loosened and he ripped it out. An empty hole was left in my dash, seemed poetic. “That should do it, if you have another I can install it.”

“I’m not sure I really like music right now, need a little break from it.” I said.

Jake nodded. “So how’s she been treating you?”

A smile broke across my face. “Great, I love this old truck. She takes good care of me.”

“She’s a hunk of junk.” Jake retorted.

“She is my hunk of junk. Now be nice before I banish you.”

“You could try.” Jake challenged. I narrowed my eyes at him and bumped my shoulder against his. He fell against the door in mock injury before a fit of laughter overtook him.

“Don’t fuck with my truck.” I snapped, laughing.

He held his hands up in defeat. “Point taken, want to meet my baby?” I quirked an eyebrow in interest. “C’mon, not every day I get to introduce her to a pretty girl.”

I felt the blush beginning to crawl up my neck as he jumped out of my truck. I shook my head and followed after him into the garage. A red car was propped up on cinderblocks, I recognized the Volkswagen insignia on the hood.

“1986 Volkswagen Rabbit.” Jake said proudly. “Almost finished, needs a few tweaks, then she’ll be perfect.”

“How long have you been working on her?” I asked, taking a circle around the car.

“Couple years now, Dad just got me the final parts I needed last spring. All that’s really left is cosmetic.” Jacob smiled. “She’s my college car. Figure I can run her back and forth while I go up to Peninsula.”

“What are you thinking of studying?” I asked, genuinely curious.

The smile on his face seemed to grow impossibly brighter. “I’m looking into their history track. With that degree I want to work to preserve the history here.” He gestured vaguely. “There’s so much that has been lost that I’d like to preserve what I can for future generations. The Elders aren’t getting any younger.”

I took a moment to truly look at Jacob. He looked so determined, passionate, alive. I felt a pang in my chest. “That sounds amazing.”

He chuckled and looked down, not before I saw a blush in his cheeks. “It’s not much. What about you?”

I chewed on my lip. “I’m not sure yet. I haven’t even applied to schools yet.”

“I could help you, apply if you want. Peninsula’s was easy enough.” Jake said, before he started stuttering over his words.

“I wouldn’t mind a little help. I think Dad has been a little worried that I haven’t applied anywhere. And Peninsula doesn’t sound like a bad idea. Maybe we could carpool?”

A small smile was on his lips, “Yeah, maybe.”

“They have a decent education program, from what I’ve heard.” Jacob supplied.

“Education?” I asked.

He chuckled, “When we were little you always talked about being a teacher like your mom. Obviously time changes things. I was convinced I was going to be a superhero.” He smirked. “But it’s a starting point.”

I nodded, then heard laughter coming from the direction of the house.

“Time to go home Bella!” Dad’s voice called out, I could hear him chortling with Billy.

Jake and I rolled our eyes in sync. “Well, it was nice catching up, thanks for the help with the radio.” I said, holding my hand out awkwardly.

Jacob’s hand encased mine as he shook it, “Don’t be a stranger, Bells.” He smiled. “Now let’s go before those two get any ideas.

[blue-slush-writing]

𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐦𝐬

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 1

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.2k

𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐩: 𝐁𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝐨𝐮 𝐱 𝐈𝐳𝐮𝐤𝐮

𝐏𝐨𝐯: Izuku has finally been able to get out of an abusive relationship with Todoroki but can't seem to full escape, especially when all of their friends are trying to force them back together

Katsuki thought his life was perfect, but as soon as his daughter was unexpectedly born his girlfriend left, leaving him to be a father on his own. He's trying to make it through college while taking care of his 3 year old.

𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: 𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠

Chapter 2

Izuku could roughly hear his alarm going off next to his bed and he could feel the sun's light shining in through his window. The bright rays were piercing through his tightly shut eyes, and he groaned, squinting. It was a Tuesday morning and he had class in about an hour, but despite the continuous beeping, he only rolled over, prepared to go back to sleep and skip class. His comforter was practically begging him to just stay in today. Along with his awful headache, it seemed like reason enough to ditch for one day. Part of him wanted an aspirin, but sleep felt more important. He shifted uncomfortably as his bare skin rubbed against the sheets. Somewhere in his mind he was vaguely aware he was naked, but the situation didn’t quite click into place until he felt an extra pair of arms wrap around his from behind. The warmth of another person pressed up against his back, and he rolled over, coming face to face with a smiling duel haired man. his eyes opened in surprise, and he began to speak, only to find the words caught in his throat.

“Morning sunshine.” The boy muttered, trying to lean in for a kiss, but was instead met with Izuku’s hand pressed tightly between their lips. Even this early in the morning Shoto still looked stunning, but that wasn’t quite what was on his mind.

“Did we… again?” When he had invited Shoto over, he had sworn to himself wouldn’t get high enough to sleep with him, but it seemed his self control was more of a figment of his imagination. It hadn’t been too long since the two of them broke up, but it felt way too soon to be considering getting back with his Ex.

In response to his question Shoto only laughed. “You really can’t hold your liquor Izu.”

“We were drinking?!” The man was a known lightweight, which was why he rarely drank, especially in combination with weed. For the life of him he couldn’t piece together what happened last night, but here he was, for the second time that month, laying naked in bed with a guy he had sworn not to see again. Maybe he had slipped something into his drink. Izuku tried to move out of Shoto’s arms and sit up, but was immediately pulled back down into a tight hug.

“Come on. Don’t be like that. You were so nice to me last night” He planted small kisses along his collar bone.

“I was nice because you got me drinking until I forgot what a dick you are.” He snarled, pushing him off. Izuku rolled out of bed, dragging one of the blankets with his as a robe. Their clothes were scattered across the room, and no matter where he looked he couldn’t seem to find his boxers.

“They’re s on the couch.” Shoto turned over on the bed, Obviously not planning on leaving his apartment anytime soon. What worried Izuku more is that he was probably going to have to wash the entire living room. With his luck they probably hadn’t gone for only one round. He grabbed a pair of booty shorts out of his dresser and pulled them on, throwing a thin white T over top. It was way too early for this shit. His head was pounding and everything felt very bright and harsh. Just how much did he drink? He was trying to act nonchalant, but he had a really bad feeling in his gut. Even if he hadn’t been in his right mind, he felt like he was leading Shoto on. Izuku knew he didn’t plan on getting back together with him, so doing this made him feel dirty. He never used to do one night stands, but the more time he spent around friends, the more time he woke up in situations like this. his friends were his Ex’s friends which meant they were all trying to push the two of them back together. Even now, he was sure that they had all purposefully ditched the party last night just to give them some time together. Those bastards.

Still feeling incredibly tired, he walked drearily into the kitchen, bumping into the counter on his way to the coffee pot. With a hangover like this he was going to start with a minimum of three mugs and an aspirin. He popped the last instant brew cup into its place and added water before pressing start. He could have just stood there and watched, but he felt the overwhelming need to brush his teeth, so he made his way down the hall to the bathroom, and was met with a very unseemly sight. He looked like a total wreck. His makeup from the day before streaked down his face and his green dyed hair was an absolute mess. He looked like he had just walked out of hell.

He splashed some water onto his hands and slowly massaged a puff of soap into his dry face. It stung his eyes, but he rubbed his skin clean till he was satisfied, and rinsed, wetting his hair in the process. He was in desperate need of a shower anyway , but that would have to wait until after he got an explanation. He felt like his heart was racing faster than it should, and he could see his hands shaking as he opened the cap to the tooth paste. Maybe it was the drugs still working their way out of his system, but he got the feeling he was afraid of the things he might have said the night before. The promises he might have made. Hell, with the way he acted when he was drunk he might walk out this just to be told they were already back together. Part of him longed for that. Wanted to be held again and shown affection. Wanted to taste Shoto on his lips when they-

But the other half of him knew that was impossible. He had already had his heart broken once, and he didn’t know if he had it in his to go through that again. Shoto was the one who had got him started on pot in the first place when they were back in high school. Izuku was stressed and anxious, and had been easily convinced it was just a way to “chill out”. His relationship quickly went from best friend, to dealer and customer, and when he didn’t have the money for weed, he would pay with... favors. This continued into college, but soon he was able to make other friends who hooked him up and he became a resident stoner. Weekends, parties, and now apparently Monday nights, he would get togethers to get lit. Everyone seemed to like him and he got invited out a lot. He was just a typical college kid with some extra problems.

Somewhere along the way his favors for Shoto got more and more serious, until he just asked him out. Izuku had probably mistaken what they had for love and immediately said yes. They would fight, make up, have sex, and pretend like none of it happened. Maybe he could have realized earlier that something was off, but the blonde just had a way of doing things that always brought him back. Like after a long day of work he would sneak the two of them onto their apartment buildings roof, and they would spend the night in each other's arms, just watching the stars and talking about nothing. When they did finally break up it was because Shoto had cheated. Behind Izuku’s back there had been a girl named Momo who seemed to be nothing more than eye candy, but had taken up his time nonetheless. When he found out what was going on he had been devastated. After a long fight that lasted days of on and off screaming, they decided it would be best to just part ways. To Izuku it had been the end, but Shoto seemed to think they were just on some kind of break.

Swishing water around in his mouth, the greenette spit out the last of the minty paste and left from the bathroom. He could hear his Ex getting dressed in the bedroom as well as the beep of the coffee machine, signalling that the pot was done brewing.

Once he had poured himself a mug, he couldn’t be bothered to add creamer and just decided to drink it black. he didn’t have the patience to search all around his kitchen for whatever ridiculous spot his friends had left his milk and sweeteners. He had only just taken a sip of his steaming drink when Shoto walked in wearing one of Izuku’s hoodies, and prosmuidly nothing underneath. He slowly tried to approach him, but every step forward warranted two steps back.

“Are you serious Izuku? We’re not five. You can’t just back away from your problems.” He moved closer. “We still have something. We always did. I already apologized didn’t I?” His voice almost sounded sincere, but there was a layer of malice dripping behind every word. This was one of his tactics. Say sweet words laced with just enough poison to scare his into submission. But he had grown too much since their breakup to fall prey to his lies once again. He never wanted to go back to being Shoto’s plaything.

“You cheated on me with some bitch you met on tinder. You lost me the day you started sleeping around behind my back.” He knew he must have a dark glare on his face, and he hoped it got his point across. He wanted him out immediately. “I’ll show you to the door .” He tried his best to sound warm, but it was clear that he was about ready to lose it. He wasn't sure why he was so angry, but a swarm of memories was clouding his mind and he felt as though he was on the verge of tears. If Shoto stayed any longer he might collapse and give in again.

“Can I at least take a shower before I leave?” It was so clear this was not a question but a demand, but Izuku was not having it. With no words left to say, he simply grabbed a jacket from the front closet, shoved it at Shoto and pushed him out the front door. He honestly couldn’t care if it was winter, and that he was wearing barely anything, but his new house was close enough for him to not have to worry. And Even if it wasn’t, why should he care? The man was no longer his problem.

Once he was alone in his apartment he immediately collapsed down onto his bed, wondering why he had let this happen to himself. His first class started in close to 30 minutes, but he definitely did not feel like going. He would write his professor an email saying he got sick and hope that he didn’t think his getting sick for the 13th time that semester was strange. He probably hated him, but it was just a general language class. He had dropped English in high school and now had to retake it at 9:30 in the morning every Tuesday and Thursday.

Despite having taken a bath the night before, Izuku felt filthy. His skin was crawling and he wished he could run away any memories that might resurface the night before. Before he tried to figure out anything for the day a shower was in order. He once again pulled himself from bed and picked up his phone from the nightstand. He had been in such a daze last night that he hadn’t even plugged his phone in and it was now at a dwindling 13%. he connected it to his charger, not even bothering to look at his string of notifications. Who ever needed his could wait until after he was clean.

He had just put his clothes on, but easily dropped them to the floor and carefully made his way to the shower. There were red solo cups littered around his living room, and the whole place wreaked of drugs and sex. This is why he never let people party at his house. He was surprised to not find puke in the bathroom, but at least that would be one less thing for him to clean up. He clicked the water on and stepped into its spray, not waiting for it to warm up. It felt so good to have the cold droplets covering his back and dripping through his hair.

As the water heated up he felt like his problems melted away. Thoughts of past love, lust and affection, the after taste of drugs. They slipped down the drain with all of the sweat from the night before. When his and Shoto had broken up he had replaced all of his soaps so that the house would stop smelling like him. So he would stop smelling like him. Now all of his senses were filled with the smell of white chocolate and strawberries. It was the same body wash that he had used in middle school before all of his problems had come barreling head first into his life. It reminded him of his mother, Inko. The soap had originally been hers, But Izuku had stolen it and didn’t change the scent he used for years. He had only switched it in highschool when his friends told him that he should switch to a brand that was better for the environment.

As he stood in the shower, he could feel his legs lightly quivering and he had to steady himself against the shower bar. It hadn’t been immediate, but the effects of an eventful night were finally hitting him. He relentlessly scrubbed hisself, wishing he could magically erase himself from existence. The worst part of all of this was he already didn’t want to be sober anymore. He had made a catastrophic mistake under the influence, but he knew he could forget if he just let himself go a little. Being addicted to something was incredibly annoying. As long as he could guarantee Shoto wouldn’t be there, he would probably call up his friends and ask them to come over later that night.

When he washed his hair, streaks of green hair dye bled down his arms and torso, drizzling down the drain like a sad stream of sludge. The bright color was fading and it was close to time to redye it. Those were a multitude of colors he could go for, but he always found himself dying it green to match his eyes. At the very least he was on brand.

With the last bits of soap leaving his body, he cut off the water and stepped out of the shower. Water dripped off of his onto the floor mat and he rang his hair out with a towel, not letting the moisture cling to his roots. The entire room was filled with steam and he couldn’t see himself in the mirror, but it was safe to say he felt vastly better. Whatever had happened was in the past and all he could do now was move on with his day. Maybe he could call up his friend Uraraka and they could watch movies instead of doing their work on campus. She was kind of an idiot, but She always managed to make him feel better.

Izuku wrapped the towel around himself and opened the bathroom door, letting out a ploom of smoke. The rest of his apartment was cold and he instantly regretted leaving the warm confines of the shower. He quickly ran to his bedroom and found a comfortable sweater and a pair of sweatpants. The two clothing items didn’t match at all, but who was going to see him? He might as well have put on some fuzzy socks too. Once he was bundled in warm clothing he reached for his phone and began to scroll through his alerts.

Those were tons of messages from his friends apologizing and checking in on him, an email from his boss, even a message from one of his close classmates asking if he was coming in today. He checked the email first, worried he might have forgotten about a shift. He worked at a fast food chicken hut, and he had thought he didn't have work until tomorrow, but with the way his day was going he was better safe than sorry. He skimmed it quickly, only noticing the key details. To his relief it was just notifying him of what hours he would be working so he wouldn’t be late...again. His boss liked him because he did his work while on shift, but he wasn’t the most reliable when it came to actually showing up on time. He usually did the four to nine shift but tomorrow he was working overnight.

His last notification was from Uraraka . She used a long string of emojis to accompany a message apologizing for leaving him alone last night. She seemed genuinely upset and said that Iida had dragged her out before she had even realized what was happening. Both Uraraka and Iida were Graphic design majors and lived together on campus. There was a good chance the two of them were dating, but Izuku never pressed the subject. He decided he might as well message her just to see if she wanted to come over. She most likely wouldn’t respond, but it was worth a shot. His fingers flicked across his keyboard and he sent him a simple text that got his point across.

‘Come over. I’ll get snacks and a movie. Just bring something… strong. Makeup for leaving me alone last night by giving me something to forget about Shoto.’ he knew he would regret saying this even as he typed the words, but he longed for an escape. Not only just from his Ex, but more from his situation. Somewhere deep within himself, Izuku felt like he was missing something. Like he didn’t belong. It was as if he was yearning for a place he had never been, whose he would finally feel whole. That “place” certainly wasn’t his one bedroom apartment.

Izuku decided it was worthwhile to put some concealer on, so as not to look like a total wreck for his friends. He didn’t care much about his appearance, but at the very least he wanted to cover up the redness of his tired eyes. His head still throbed from the past nights drinking, and every time he would turn his head too fast clusters of black dots would cloud his vision. Sighing heavily, he let himself fall back against his pillow, deciding he would just take a short nap until someone responded. He had no idea how late he had been up yesterday, but he could feel his fatigue dripping from him. Not even bothering to cover himself with the comforter, he rolled over, burying his face into the warmth of his cotton heat.

~~~

A ding on Izuku’s phone stared him from his sleep. He had his ringer all the way up, and the loud beep echoed through his room. Groaning, he turned over grabbing his phone from his night stand. It was later in the evening now, nearly Five o’clock, and the sun was no longer at its peak in the sky. Among other notifications, he had a message from Uraraka.

‘I’m in class, but I’ll be over in a bit. I get out at 4 so close to then.’

Four? It was an hour past then. Izuku sat up in bed, worried that he had missed her. He would feel so stupid if she had actually shown up only for his to fall asleep. Just as he began to worry, he heard quiet talking coming from the living room. He couldn’t quite make out what was being said, but it sounded like the TV was playing, as well as small laughs that bounced around the apartment. He sat up, clutching his head and stumbled out of his bedroom. Sitting thoughtlessly on his couch was Uraraka, watching his TV as if it was her own house. She had her feet kicked up on his coffee table and her school bag was sitting next to her. She had clearly come straight from class. He certainly hadn’t been quiet when he barged into the room, and she looked up from where she was sitting and looked at him as if he was the one who seemed out of place. She had a smug grin, and he was sure he must look ridiculous from sleeping on his face.

“The front door was open so I invited myself in.” She said nonchalantly, leaning her head backwards on the couch to stare at him. He definitely should have warned her-

“I wouldn't sit thise if I was you. Pretty sure I had sex there last night.” He said, sighing. Normally it would have been funny to see the look of utter disgust on Uraraka's face, but he was still feeling guilty about what happened. The brunette quickly leapt up from the couch, shaking herself off as if he had gotten an STD just from sitting there. He looked at her with regret at having spent the last hour laying down on the sofa. As bad as his mood was, it did brighten him a little bit to see the idiot running around trying to whip the cooties off of herself. Slowly his frown turned up and he began to laugh, walking forward and throwing a clean blanket over the cushions and taking a seat himself. “Honestly I don’t really remember what happened last night, but Shoto did say some cryptic things about the living room.” He said, giggling at Uraraka’s reaction.

After a few more minutes of flailing and laughing, she finally sat down, smiling brightly. She was glad to see that he wasn’t an absolute wreck. When Izuku did things he regretted, he tended to be a mess for days. She had been especially worried today when he asked for hard drugs. He rarely did anything more than pot, so he knew he must be really upset.

“You promised snacks, but I have yet to see any food.” She commented, gesturing dramatically around the room that was still covered in trash. Izuku wished he had had the chance to clean before she had come over, but to be fair, he wasn’t even awake by the time she arrived.

“I swear you only ever come over for my food.” he muttered, standing back up and walking over to the cupboards. He almost expected them to be completely empty, but to his surprise those were still a few bags of chips amongst the others food. Maybe his friends had just missed them the night they were over, or maybe this was their way of apologizing for leaving him with Shoto. Either way at least this was food left to offer in return for whatever Uraraka had brought over. He grabbed some ruffles and what was left of the takis and threw them down in front of Uraraka. “This is the best I can offer, so eat up.” He slumped down next to her and sighed. He already felt better being in the company of one of his friends.

Uraraka immediately opened up the bag and began to scarff down the food as if it was the last meal she would ever eat. If she kept up like that she would probably end up puking on him. While she made quick work of the chips, he snatched his backpack and began to dig around, looking for whatever he could to calm his racing mind. Being in Uraraka’s presence was nice, but he needed something a little… stronger. Her mess of a bag had crumbled up papers, day old food wrappers and a variety of notebooks. Her computer was the one clean looking thing in the whole black hole, and he definitely didn't see any drugs. She had flaked out on him. Shit. He dropped it to the floor and let his head fall back, looking straight at the ceiling. It was stupid feeling so dissapointed over something like this. Asking his friends for drugs definitely wasn’t a healthy way to cope with whatever this was, but at some point in his life it was like he had just given up. Given up on being a good son, on his school work, on making something out of his life.

When he was a kid his mother would tell his that he was his brightest star and that he just needed to find his home. He thought he had found it with his Ex, but all he had come out with was addiction and depression. He had become so codependent with him, that the last couple months alone had felt like hell. Everyday he almost gave in and unblocked his number, just wanting to be able to have someone to lean back on, but his mothiss words stuck with him. As much as his kind touches and loving whisper would sing him into his sweet fantasies, it was hard to look past all of the time he would get mad or violent. He was so good with his words, and he used them as a weapon, bleeding Izuku of his indiscretions. It was hard to win a battle against someone who knew your everything. Shoto was his weakness and it was easy to exploit that.

Truth be told he would kill to just be able to sit down and talk to his mother, but he hadn’t seen her in person in over two years. It wasn’t that they hadn’t been close, but when he moved out his mother had moved to Europe. She never came back to visit, and Izuku never asked. If he called her right now and really wanted her to come home, he knew she would catch the first flight back, but he never said anything. Inko had had Izuku when she was only 19 and he had always felt guilty for taking away the prime of her life. His mother never showed it, but he had the feeling that she was missing something. This was always this longing look on her face, especially after his father died.

He barely remembered his dad, but everyone who knew him talked fondly of him. Inko always said that they were deeply in love and that she wouldn’t give up the time they had for the world. After he had passed away he said she felt very distant living at home. That’s why after Izuku had moved out for college she had gone to England.

He only realized he had been spacing out when he looked up to see Uraraka pulling a small gum tin from her pocket. “You looked so zoned out just now I thought you might already be buzzed” She said jokingly, sliding the lid off the container. Inside was a small pile of white paper strips with hearts on them. That was definitely stronger than weed.

He had only taken LSD once before and had a rough trip that felt like it lasted forever. his friends assured him it was only around seven hours, but it had felt like days. He had almost walked into a busy street towards the end of it, and hadn’t really tried it since. He wasn’t sure if he really felt like doing this, but at this point he felt bad refusing Uraraka when she had come all this way for him, not to mention she was giving it to him for free. Maybe it was out of obligation or self pity, but he opened his lips, sticking out his tongue and placed a tab in his mouth. It tasted like nothing and disintegrated instantly, leaving him waiting patiently for it to kick in.

He looked over at Uraraka who sighed and smiled at him. “It’s probably going to take at least 30 minutes to kick in. We should probably just settle in with a movie.” Without waiting for confirmation he grabbed a remote off the table and clicked on the tv. After a bit of scrolling through netflix they settled on the ring, a safe choice.

G

Izuku had settled into the couch and was deep into the movie when he thought he heard someone whispering behind his back. It almost sounded like the wind whistling in his head and it made his skin tingle. He ignored it at first, playing it off as his imagination but the words seemed to come closer, until they were right in his ear, mumbling nonsense he couldn’t make out. He whipped his head around, looking for the source, but was only meant with the empty apartment. He looked over to Uraraka to see if she was experiencing the same thing, but for some reason only half of her was sitting on the couch. From her waist down was right where she was supposed to be but the rest of her was nowhere in sight. This should have been alarming, but instead he found himself giggling, covering his mouth with his hand so Uraraka’s legs wouldn’t get mad at him. The closer he looked the funnier it became to him, and soon he was breaking out into a fit of laughter.

As he laughed he could see the sounds tumbling out of his mouth in bright colors that painted the whole room into a rainbow. All of the hues seemed to seep together into a psychedelic collage. He slowly stood, trying to gasp them between his fingers, only to stumble over, nearly face planting into the beer stained carpet. As he stared at it the ground seemed to boil and pop beneath his. He felt a pair of arms wrapped around his hoisting his back to his feet. He turned his head, to come face to face with Uraraka, who was back to being a whole person.

“I found the rest of you!” he said with triumph, a bubbly laugh erupting from his. Izuku could see her lips moving, but couldn’t hear any of the words she was saying as she slowly set him back down on the couch. He was about to protest and stand again, when small black dots began to spot his vision. He blinked a few times, trying to get them to disappear, but they only seemed to grow, slowly clouding his vision.

He looked around for Uraraka, wanting to ask for help, but she was nowhere in sight. He began to shake his head violently, not understanding what was happening, but everything kept getting darker and darker. He was vaguely aware he was screaming, but he couldn’t seem to hear the sound. His throat began to get soar and he felt like he couldn’t breath. He began to take deep gulps of air, but it only made him more dizzy. Just as the last of his sight blacked out, he felt himself falling backwards, losing his strain of consciousness and collapsing into sleep