#some ppl never had their heart shattered | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ephemerensis · 2 months ago

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Shoreline // Tim Drake x GN! Reader

sorry this took so long lol i’ve developed a stalker and things r getting crazy! face card don’t decline ig. tim and you have different moral values and it makes you feel bad. this is for my ppl with anger issues! not proofread ofc xoxo.

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For most of your life you couldn’t escape this overwhelming sense of apathy. This is not to say you were heartless, you teared up watching sad movies and felt the lull of your heartstrings when someone had the courage to cry in front of you. Nonetheless, you always felt like you had a seed of anger sown into the pith of your core, instilled in you from birth. So then you were cursed, eternally to feel things too strongly and with a propensity for holding things too tightly. You fought to deny it, because like all creatures— spiteful is your nature but good is your resolve. But the world has a funny way of working the empathy out of a person, or rather people have such a keen sense for selfishness, caring becomes worthless.

And bitterness fills the void; you are justified in this. Which made it so easy to feel the irritation creep under your skin when someone who wronged you was living happily or the impending sense of anger when you were spoken over or whatever other inconvenience you decided to stake your heart out for. None of it mattered, and that’s why you cared so deeply for it.

It got worse when your parents were taken, ripped from you violently, the only people you never had the heart to be spiteful towards. After that, it became incurable. That anger you were born with, that festered in you. There was no escaping it now.

However, the simple truth was that you didn’t need to. You were justified in this. These were the cards you’d been dealt, and if you wanted to move forward you’d have to play a mean game. This is way of the world. Of course, all this changed when you met him.

Kind, benevolent, Tim.

Like all people you’d crossed, when you met him you wanted to look for his flaws, some evil in him you could exploit. Something you could cling to in case he’d gotten close enough to hurt your feelings; an insurance. You turned up empty.

It wasn’t until a month into joining the Batman brigade and getting acquainted with the flow of things that you’d actually spoken. He was always on his own missions you never got the chance. You could never forget the way he smiled at you then, as if all the good in the world were compressed into one person and it were now beaming at you with the shattering force of the gentle sun.

Sitting on the edge of a skyscraper close to sunset, you were peering down at the throng of people moving about their lives like ants in a pile; pouring over each other, melting and blending. In particular you were fixated on a small group of people, shoving each other as they walked and laughing at just about anything anyone said. Everything about them was obnoxious and it made you nauseous. Before you could think anything else, a voice broke you out of your stupor.

“Pretty sure this is my patrol route.” You turned around to see Red Robin walking towards you, fully suited and equipped.

“I’m done with my patrol.” You watched as he approached the edge of the building, kneeling beside you to peek down.

“Then who are we watching?”

You didn’t want to tell him, because they hadn’t done anything wrong. Not lawfully anyway. You were doing it out of spite, out of a grudge you let fester for too long; watching them when they crossed your path hoping they’d choke or something. But you didn’t have to tell him, you were staring hard enough for him to figure it out.

So he pointed at them and you confirmed. And he asked you about it and you denied everything. The only explanation you could offer was that they did something wrong to you, and that was all.

His interest in the matter confused you, more so you were used to people ignoring what didn’t serve them. They’d only listen to give you vague advice and feel good for it, or because they felt an obligation, or something similar. But he’d never met you, and he hadn’t a thing to say to you after. He just sat and watched.

It was only after a couple minutes that he spoke again, “don’t you think it’s a waste of time?”

“What?” His question caught you off guard. Out of all the things you were expecting him to say, this wasn’t among them. It was surprising enough that he lingered this long when there was nothing to observe, he was supposed to be patrolling.

“What are you trying to get out of it?” His voice was so even when he talked to you, without an ounce of judgement or malice or sympathy.

You didn’t know what to say because you weren’t sure. Maybe watching them gave you more reasons to hate them, and that justified everything somehow, made you feel better to reinforce that they were terrible. Or maybe you wanted to catch them in the act of something heinous. Would jailing them sate you? Maybe you just needed something bad to happen. Would you save them? And if you didn’t, what does that make you? “…I don’t know.”

You don’t know why, but something in you begged for his approval right then. Something about him spurred on a desire to be liked, more strongly than anyone else had ever made you feel it. Not out of peer pressure or because he was pretty, just because he seemed like he knew better.

“They’re not going to apologize.” You frowned, gaze glued to the people beneath the building. As if he could sense your mood darkening, he cleared his throat to add on.

“You’re right, if you think they did something wrong to you then you’re right. But they won’t believe that, no matter what you do. Forget about it,” he reached over to pat your shoulder in some consolatory manner and that’s when you looked up at him.

With the way he beamed at you, swallowed by the sun, the anger bubbling up in your throat stilled and you knew immediately you’d never be the same after. And he surprised you again, sundering you to the earth with four simple words.

“I’ll believe you instead.”

And it really wasn’t fair after that. As cautious and pessimistic as you were, it was impossible not to like him. For every grievance you could invent, he could conjure the words to sate them, and never with an ounce of animosity or condescension. Tim treated the world with a grace you’d never known to find, as if anger never had a place. And he never looked at you how you saw yourself, pathetic and miserable; he treated you like you were a person, anger, apathy, and all. So of course you liked him, like Icarus to the sun, you felt him soften your waxen morals.

If he ever had an ulterior motive for putting up with you, you’d never known it— nor would you believe anything ill spoken of him for a moment. When you got to know him, really know him, enough to let down your guard, you decided he was what you wanted to stake your life on.

So you did. It wasn’t as if everything negative you felt disappeared overnight. In fact, it never went away at all. But you wanted it to. The closer you got to him, the more you let Tim drive your moral compass, and the less you let your distaste for the world rule you. And everything became about him.

His eyes, his hobbies, his values, his voice, his thoughts. All consuming until you weren’t sure where he ended and you began.

“What are you listening to?” He’d appeared silently and suddenly into your frame of view that day, catching you in one of the very few moments when you were off guard. Face dangling over your book from where you were strewn across the couch, his abrupt appearance broke you out of your own little world and jolted you back to reality. If it were anyone else, you’d be pissed.

Instead you couldn’t help the smile that broke across your face, shoving your headphones off and setting your book aside. “It’s this playlist I put together, for reading mostly, since Bruce banned music on patrols.” Before he could ask, you’d already extended the headphones in Tim’s direction and your phone with the playlist open to shortly follow.

“Oh I love this song.” You knew that, of course, and you loved it too. At least you thought you did, but you couldn’t tell the difference. Only that every song you’d included was tailored to his taste, and that you liked them well enough when they played. The surface things that were easy to change or mimic, you did. Because he was perfect.

“Me too,” you whispered. While you were watching him, he glanced at your reading selection with a tender curiosity.

“Is that Kafka? How is it?” With the music blaring over his ears, he spoke just a few decibels too loud for the ambiance the reading room provided. Tim’s voice was warm, echoing off the walls and all encompassing. He must’ve realized it too, sliding them off his ears and setting them down.

“It’s good I think, but I don’t really get it.” Truthfully you were four pages in, but just felt like spontaneously skipping ahead. “I think I should’ve researched Milena first for context.”

As if he were possessed or hit by lightning, Tim suddenly shifted his tone. Quiet and soft like ghosting fingers over skin he said, looking at you suddenly as if you were something delicate, “a living fire, such as I have never seen.”

“…What?” Struck and rooted from the change in his demeanor, you didn’t dare interpret his words. And again he changed, breaking into a grin from where he stood hovered over you.

“It’s pretty right?”He indicated for you to make room, inserting himself next to you. “That’s how Kafka describes Milena. I can give you all the context you need.”

To be clear, it was never one sided, Tim took to you too, even though you didn’t really know why. There were times you thought he saw you as some pity passion philanthropy project, with all his benevolence and understanding. But there were other times when you really thought he liked being around you. It was in the way he watched your face when you talked, prodded you with questions when you thought no one would care about what you had to say, stroked your hair when you were teary eyed. More than liking you, he wanted to know you beyond the mimicry you practiced, and you were equally amazed and terrified about what he saw through the cracks.

In those moments, everything terrible you thought existed about you disappeared. Or at the very least, they weren’t so bad.

Like any other person on the planet you had your terrible days, and especially for emotional hermits like yourself, it was the culmination of all those minor wrongs combined with the tipping point of a negative thought that dragged you under the waves. In those moments you felt like you were drowning, flailing your arms and gasping for air on the way down. Because it was all too much when you finally gave yourself any room to feel, and with your aversion to weakness and vulnerability, you never had anyone to cast you a lifeline. You just had to flail alone; there wasn’t a thing you knew to do about it.

It was no different the day you’d found yourself reeling on the floor of your bedroom, shoulders shaking with your hand clasped firmly over your mouth; being as quiet as you could to reconcile the voice in your head and keep others from hearing as you had a million times before. You don’t know what exactly was so wrong with it, but you could only be honest with yourself like this, when you knew another soul wouldn’t know. But Tim always seemed to have a third sense for these things, and you always seemed to know he’d be coming.

So by the time the worst of it was over, you’d gathered yourself together enough only for your breath to hitch with each heave of your chest. The door knob turned, in he stepped. As usual, he came bustling in with a thought on his lips, already shedding the heavier parts of his suit to your floors and chairs before greeting you.

“Crime fighting on Sundays sucks, it’s like they’re all trying to… Are you crying again?”

“No.” The crack you sounded and the congestion in your voice gave you away before you could defend yourself. Of course, being ever reliable he was by your side in three brisk steps, making the bed dip under his weight beside you.

“Do you want to talk about it?” With your head buried in your arms you could still feel him looking at you.

“No.” Talking, even in the slightest, made it worse. Undoing the progress you’d made in calming yourself, you could feel your heart rate spike again as your feelings came bubbling up. Especially with him around, his clarity and lack of negativity, it was easy to feel filthy next to him.

“Okay.” And you think he knew it too, the way he said nothing and grabbed for your hand while your breath hitched over and over. Only thumbing circles into your palms so you knew he was there, but not too much to overstimulate you. A hug in this state would end you, he feared.

But he eased you into it, reaching to gingerly pat your back when your breathing slowed again. Pulling your head into his shoulder and caressing your skull with his palm if you let him, and you always did. And when you felt bad enough for eating up his time, and needing of resolution, you spoke, “…do you think I’ll ever amount to anything?”

“I think I’m biased. I told you I’d believe in you, didn’t I?” His heartbeat was steady under your cheek, and with your ear pressed to his chest you swore you felt like you were falling into the cavity when he spoke, voice reverberating into your ears. You didn’t know if he was comforting you or dismissing you, but then he always left you a little confused.

“Be nothing for all I care,” he said coolly, “it’ll be the greatest nothing to ever exist. Swallow the sun like an eclipse or tear apart the Earth like a black hole, even in totality you’ll find a way to shine.”

When he spoke to you like that, it was impossible not to entertain it; the idea that you were lovable and worthwhile and good. But you weren’t stupid. If you wanted to believe it, you had to be it. And if you wanted to be it, you had to stay it. Could you? Abandon the only sense of self you’d known?

Tim helped, but he wasn’t a cure, just an excuse. It was woven into your nature after all, that natural born apathy and incessant anger. You felt terrible when you felt it bubble up, the truly mean or spiteful things you’d think of other people. Knowing he wouldn’t do the same and knowing he’d disapprove; in those times you felt like you were the wrong in the world and of course you never acted on these impulses. But you weren’t a deity or a therapist, essence wasn’t so easily changed.

As a result, there were the benign things. The things your selfish heart had normalized so well, you never considered they’d be an object of contest in his eyes. But it wasn’t so much in the way he disapproved of them, more therein that he dismissed them. Arbitrary thoughts and actions that mattered to you, because they were the only parts you thought you had left of yourself, no matter how unserious. And more importantly, they were the bits and pieces that you thought weren’t so bad.

“I had to save that one guy the other day, can you believe that?” The two of you were grabbing ice cream at your favorite local joint. His more so than yours, it didn’t serve cookies and cream and it always melted a little too quick for your liking.

“The one you told me you couldn’t stand?” You nodded, dragging an M&M along the surface of the scoop to watch its color dye the cream. It felt a little bad that you complained enough for Tim to know who you were talking about, but then maybe he was an amazing listener.

“I wanted to drop kick him or something. At the very least I wish I didn’t have to help.” Half truth. More so you wished the man you saved had the courage to thank you after, or at the very least, feel sorry for all the wrong he caused you. But he didn’t know it was you, dressed in your mask and spandex, and even if he did nothing would change. So while the nagging voice in you made you scoop him out of harm’s way, you half wished you dropped him into the pavement mid-swing. Then you wouldn’t feel so bad.

“But you did! That’s something.” He reached over to wipe a bit of cream off your lip with his thumb. It felt dismissive, but this was him approving. This was Tim thinking you were good. And that was worth something.

But of course, the way your brain was wired, you were still bitter. And you still wanted approval for it. Something needed to be said, benign, but enough to sate your anger.

“But it still feels wrong. Hypothetically, if it was raining really bad and he just happened to be in the same building… would it be so bad if I took his umbrella?” A cold. That was the extent of your malice now.

“Well...” Tim shrugged, making it a point to indicate his skepticism.

“But he’s a bad person,” you said eagerly, prodding for him to agree.

He chuckled, shaking his head, “you’re so silly sometimes.”

And with the smile you plastered on your face, no one could tell how little you felt. It was those moments that made you realize your rotten nature was irreversible, every good you’d ever felt was a command given to a dog that listened.

But anger is a feeling that festers, and the less you said, the worse it got. You couldn’t ignore or mask it anymore than you could deny your identity. The rot was there, and it felt terrible, and you were realizing just how disgusting it was. While you always excused yourself as some tragic character, the truth is there are no characters. No plot lines or story arcs you could hide behind. You’re a bitter person because you’re a shitty person, and there’s no cure for that.

So you disrupted your delusions; confronted them for what you were worth. When you came to terms, you understood. You’d never be what he expected. And when he asked you out, officially, one day, you knew what to say.

The sun flooded the room then, despite the drapes being drawn mostly shut. The two of you sprawled over each other on the floor, lounging the comfort of your friendship. For the better half of an hour, you’d been reading shitty poetry you found online together, laughing at the more ridiculous ones as if you could do any better.

When you tired, you laid in silence.

“I like you,” he said. You scoffed, waving your hand dismissively.

“Duh, I like you too.” Tim sat upright, staring down at you with a serious glint in his marine eyes. And your smile faded, staring back in dread and anticipation.

“No, I like you.” It was doomed. Of course you liked him, you weren’t dumb, but not like this. When he continued in your silence, it confirmed it, Tim didn’t know a thing you were thinking. “Would you go out with me?”

His awkward smile and the tilt of his head made it worse. Stupidly angelic as if he couldn’t help it.

“No.”

Something flickered in his eyes and you held your breath, as if he would explode now. If he was confused he was right to be, because everyone knew you liked him. There wasn’t anyone else you got along with.

“What?” His smile faded and you picked yourself off the floor, drawing your knees to you.

“I can’t.”

“But you like me,” he pressed. You couldn’t read his face, it was the same expression he used during training or chess. Blank and defensive, it scared you. If there were a time to crawl back in your shell it’d be now, but you had to be open. He needed to know you were sincere, you needed to be the understanding one.

“But I can’t.”

“Can’t what?”

“I can’t change.” If he were confused that’d be one thing, it would mean you were wrong and he didn’t think as negatively of you as you thought. But he wasn’t confused, whether it be hurt at your misunderstanding or disappointment in your declination, it wasn’t confusion and he knew what you were talking about.

“I’ve never expected that of you.” You knew from the quiver of the corner of his mouth he was upset, hiding it behind his otherwise unfaltering expression.

“But you do. I see it when you look at me,” you responded with a small smile to help indicate you weren’t bitter. Maybe it came out wrong anyway, you’re good at that. “You’re loving and sweet and smart and kind. But I can’t do it, Tim. I can’t be good.”

“I’m not asking you to.” And he looked so puppy like saying it you almost caved.

“I don’t think you’ll like me if I don’t.” The frown he’d been holding back etched itself onto his face. You could tell he wanted to argue. But he was a good person. In Tim’s head you could see the clogs turning, weighing what was worth it; telling you his truth or validating your feelings, considering which would mean the most.

So before he came to conclusion, and said more to change your mind, you interjected. “I’ve thought about it more than you’d know. In some universe we are the perfect match, you are the perfect match for me. Where all your good balances out my incompetence, but not this one. You don’t have the patience and I don’t have the gall. I’m going to make you bitter and you know it. Not this one.”

Tim held your gaze before looking at the floor, and you mourned the loss of drowning in his blue depths, “but if your good balanced out my incompetence?”

You shook your head a little, “I don’t have an ounce you could use. This is all I am and all I’ll ever be.”

“And if I disagreed?”

“You know I’m right, and I’m a little tired of conceding. It’s all I seem to do around you.”

“And if in another universe you said the same thing to me? And the next?” Outside, the weather looked so temperate and effervescent, teasingly steadfast in its resolve. He didn’t sound angry or dejected, just as he normally did. Gentle and even, as he looked at you again with something akin to how the tide felt lapping against your calves. Ebbing and ebbed, and slowly pulling you to its epicenter as you sink into the sand.“In every world you exist, you’ll be afraid. But in this one nothing’s happened. We exist in the same space, in the same time. You have a choice, I want a chance, if you’d accept it. Is it so much to overcome?”

But the tide gets you nothing but wrinkled fingertips and the taste of sand. It was time you pulled yourself out before you couldn’t swim back. Out to chase the shoreline again, in and out, afraid of the water.

“Yes.”

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@jedidiah1201

#tim drake fanfic #tim drake #tim drake x reader #batman #dc #red robin x reader #tim drake imagine #tim drake x gender neutral reader #tim drake angst

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soullumii · 1 year ago

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if my heart’s gonna break | joel miller x f!reader

part 1 (read part 1 before reading this!)

summary: a couple nights later, you head back to joel’s

warnings: 18+!!!! smut again. unprotected piv. fem!afab!reader. angst again don’t worry i’ll make a happy ending okay

word count: 4k

joel mod in gif is by speclizer (so fucking hot oh my GODDDD)

a/n: finally finished part 2 omg i’m sorry for the wait yall… i’m a perfectionist it’s lowkey debilitating. anyways… i hope u guys enjoy <3 tysm for the support on part 1 and tbh on all my other fics too… i can’t believe ppl like my writing that much. i am very grateful! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

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im scared but if my heart's gonna break before the night will end

i said we're in danger

sleeping with a friend

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You cant stop thinking about the kiss.

The kiss that honestly shouldn’t mean so much to you. You’ve kissed him, like, so many times. So many times his tongue has been in your mouth, been in your damn vagina. So why the fuck… why the fuck are you so worked up over this right now?

It’s just…it was so heavy. It felt like…like more than just a kiss. Like he was laying his life down for you, much like he does in patrols.

He… Joel… he usually never kisses right after sex. He recognizes in the post-coitus energy that things are different. They mean more. He has to know that. So… why now? Does he…?

No. You’re just in your head again. Maybe you’re thinking about it too hard. You’ve never had a friends with benefits situation before now. Maybe this… maybe this is regular.

But for your own psyche, you think you might have to set some ground rules.

There was always that main rule, that wretched, critical rule. The one you said to him on the first day of your strange exchange.

“Don’t go falling in love with me, cowboy.”

Well, to hell with that one, right? Pretty sure you’ve beaten that shit to death. Shattered all possible remains of it.

So more rules. More rules will have to do. Starting with:

No kissing.

Should be easy enough.

You’ll figure out the rest later. You have got to stop thinking about it, though, because you’re on the way to his house right now.

You knock swiftly on the door, and you swear you feel your heart drop into your pussy the moment he opens the door to reveal himself. A plain, black t-shirt is stretched across his broad chest, haphazardly tucked into a pair of plaid pajama pants that hang loosely around his hips. His graying hair is ruffled beyond belief, curling around his ears and falling over his forehead. In your fits of passion and desire a couple nights ago, you hardly realized it had grown longer. It looks nice.

This sleepy and soft Joel is not one you’ve seen in a while. Well, it’s not like you’ve seen him much lately anyway, with him having been gone and all. Still, it’s disorienting.

“Howdy,” he says.

“Um. Hi.” You try not to gawk. “Did…did I come at a bad time, or something?”

“No, not at all. I just got back from patrols… took a shower,” he says, leaning a shoulder against the door jamb, strong arms crossing over his chest. There’s a tiny, barely perceptible smirk on his lips. “Need somethin’?”

You see it now, the water clinging to his hair, darkening it, beading at his temples like sweat. You follow a line of water trickling down his throat until it disappears behind his collar.

Rule 2: Don’t come over after he’s showered.

“I…uh, I can come back later if you want—“

You’re nervous to ask him what you want to ask him, which is honestly ridiculous considering you guys have been doing this for months now. You used to be able to just knock on his door and he’d pull you in, and it was that easy. Or you’d give him a look when in public, and he knew exactly what you needed.

Now, you’re painfully awkward. Curse him and curse your feelings.

He straightens a bit, his brows furrowing in slight concern. “What’s goin’ on?”

Heat spreads down your neck, embarrassment. Shame. It’s strange, how just a couple nights ago you let him finger you in public, and now you’re afraid to ask him for sex again in his house and for your panties back.

You should honestly just say something like:

I’m here for my underwear.

And you’re positive he’d say:

Want it back? You gotta earn it, sweetheart.

And your knees would buckle and you’d sink down to the carpeted floor in front of his couch and suck him off until he was coming down your throat, stroking back your hair and thumbing his cum on your plush bottom lip.

But instead you’re scowling at him and blurting: “I need a drink.”

How dare he leave you high and dry for three weeks, come back and fuck the shit out of you, make you realize you’re in love with him, and look this good?

God damnit, you need to get your shit together.

Joel’s eyes widen, surprised only slightly by your outburst, before he backs up to allow you inside his home. When he shuts the door behind you, his hand settles warmly on your lower back as he steers you toward the kitchen.

He immediately beelines for the liquor cabinet and grabs a bottle of red for you. A warm, tingly feeling stirs in your stomach at the fact that he knew you’d want wine. The frustration you’ve been feeling fizzles out.

“You know me so well.”

He gives you a light smirk, uncorking the bottle. The liquor gurgles as he pours it into a glass. “Think you’d kill me if I didn’t know after all this time.”

You laugh, “Sure, but the real test of friendship is if you knew how I’d kill you.”

“A swift kick to the nuts and then one of my guitars to my head.”

Your eyes widen on a guffaw. “You think I’d damage one of your guitars?”

“You care more about my guitars than my genitals?”

“Yes. Why would I ever smash one of your guitars?”

He rolls his eyes. “Kill two birds with one stone—my soul and my body. It’s effective. If you needed to kill me, I’d hope it was like that. Now how would I kill you?”

You hum in consideration. “Trick question. You wouldn’t—no, you couldn’t.”

“You know me so well.”

His words mirrored back at you so gently, with his brown eyes trained on you intently has the warmth in your belly spreading, making you drop your gaze.

His smirk grows and he hands you the wine glass and reaches for some homemade brandy. You watch the muscles in his arm flex as he pours, sipping daintily while your mind replays thoughts of filth. Of you dragging that arm between your legs, grinding down on it until—

“So, you really only here for a drink?” He asks with a playful lilt, taking a sip of his own beverage and effectively jolting you out of your daydreaming.

You lean against the island, wondering if you should tell him the truth. From the way he’s looking at you, hungrily and heated, like a lion ready to pounce, you’re tempted to.

But…you’re afraid. You can’t stop thinking about The Rule. The one you broke and the ones you just made. You wonder if whatever might happen between you two tonight will unravel them before you can even put them into place.

You look up at him through your lashes, lips pursed around the rim of the glass. “Maybe, maybe not.”

His eyes darken, tongue darting out to lick his lips of sweet fermented wine. His gaze travels up and down your figure, comfortable and breathable in a t-shirt and shorts. Nothing fancy and cute like your sundress from the other night, because today you had to work. But Joel has never minded what you’ve worn, swearing you always look sexy in anything.

Which is something that also makes you question this friends with benefits situation you have here.

He sets his glass down and eases in closer, curling an arm around your waist to pull you into him. “How high’s the chance then?”

“…What do you mean?”

“I mean what’s the probability that you really did only come here for a drink?” he drawls, eyes following your lips as your tongue dips out to wet them. “Or was there another reason?”

The cold tip of his nose brushes along your throat, lips ghosting over your skin. You tremble in his hold. “Odds are in favor of the first option,” you breathe, “ran out of alcohol at my place.”

“And you couldn’t just stop by the Bison? Had to steal from my stores?”

“You know you have the good stuff.”

“You’re lyin’ but I’ll pretend like you ain’t.”

That makes you laugh, and more tumble out of you when one of his hands traces lazily over your stomach, fingers light and delicate and teasing.

“So why d’ya need a drink?”

Because you’re driving me crazy. Because I’m driving myself crazy. Because the universe wants to fuck me over.

You smile and your free hand skates up his muscled back, your fingers brushing along the stretchy fabric of his tee, your voice soft. “Just needed to destress a little. Work has been intense.”

He grins back, presses it into the spanse between your throat and your shoulder, before he lightly scrapes his teeth over it and lays a gentle bite that has you keening into him, pressing your body against his.

“Well, I could help you destress another way too,” he murmurs, palm squeezing the pudgy flesh of your waist, fingers digging lightly into your muscle.

“Mm… yeah?” you hum, your voice a low purr, back arching. Your breasts press into his chest, and Joel makes a sound deep in his throat in agreement.

He presses you into the island, caging you in with his hands on either side of you. He towers over you, a sweatpant clad leg sliding between yours.

He leans down to kiss you, and a flashing light blares in your mind — NO KISSING — loud and bright and distracting. You turn your head at the last second, his lips landing on your cheek. But Joel doesn’t pull back, doesn’t question you. He just kisses down your cheek, along your jaw, mouthing at you. Sucking your skin to leave little marks that will either fade or be covered by concealer.

It used to upset you when he left marks because they’re a pain to cover up. Then, you started to like it. You didn’t mind covering up the marks because when you took the makeup off and saw them at the end of the day, all you could think about was him. About the how he made you come. About the words he muttered in your ear. About the feeling of his hands on you—in you.

Now, you’re starting to grow upset again, but this time it’s because you want to wear them proudly. Want people to know he gets to claim you like this. But… you can’t. But you also don’t want him to stop.

You allow him to continue marking you up, his hand coming up to rest behind your skull, holding you in place. You press your body into his eagerly and with desperate, soft noises that he returns with placating moans.

And then he shifts, and his thigh ruts against your clothed core, and you moan lightly, airily, grinding your hips down against him, searching for any friction.

His hands curl around the hem of your white tee, and he peels it off your body. One skates behind your back to easily undo the clasp of your bra, and then your breasts are heavy and on display for him.

Joel stares down at you with heavy eyes. “Christ, you’re beautiful.”

Longing claws at your chest, and you look up at him coyly, your lip caught between your teeth. Joel groans like he’s in pain, and squeezes along the underside of one of your breasts before leaning down to close his mouth over the nipple while his other hand gives attention to the other, squeezing and pinching. Your hands find purchase in his damp hair as low moans tumble from your lips.

When he’s deemed one nipple adequately appreciated, he moves onto the next. Licking, revering, his dark eyes peering up at you while his peppered hair is fisted in your hands. The sight has slick arousal pooling in your underwear.

Eventually he pulls back and his hands clamp down on your hips. He guides you along the muscle of his thigh, your clit pulsing at the contact.

“Want you to come on my thigh, baby.” His voice is a ragged slur of words against your ear, warm and paired with a kiss to your cartilage.

“Fuck…yes, Joel,” you whimper, sparks flying through your nerves with each roll of your hips.

His fingers grip your chin, tilting your head so you have no choice but to keep eye contact with him as you rut against his thigh. He’s grinning, eyes heavy lidded and deep, dark like wet tar. They suck you in as if they were quicksand.

You’d let him drag you under a million times over.

Your best friend.

“Joel,” you moan, feeling yourself grow close. Standing at the cliff's edge. His eyes bore into yours, his grin slipping as he focuses on you. Focuses on making you shatter atop him.

“Come on, baby. You can do it. You can come,” he says encouragingly, fingers stroking the skin of your hip. You feel tears prick your eyes as the waves crash, spreading from your throbbing clit along your muscles. Filling you with warmth, stronger and deeper than the buzz from the wine.

“Good job,” he praises gently. “Did so good.”

“Shut up,” you huff.

He laughs, and despite yourself, heat floods your body, throbs between your thighs. His words caress a deep, carnal animal inside of you, and the hunger takes over.

You frantically pull at his shirt until he has to tell you to slow down, and takes it off himself. Your hands run along his chest and stomach the moment they’re able to and down to the waistband of his sweats. You palm his hardening cock through the soft, gray fabric. Joel groans deep and heavy, his lashes fluttering as he stares you down. His hips thrust into your palm automatically. Involuntarily.

God, that makes you light up like a firefly. Makes your nerves sing and your cunt flutter and your mind go numb.

He tugs down your shorts and underwear and sets you on top of the granite, but before he can strip the underwear from your ankle to no doubt pocket this pair like he did the other, you flick it off your foot across the kitchen. It lands somewhere near the door to the dining room.

He can’t steal all your underwear, or you’ll have none left.

“I wanted those,” he drawls, expression on the edge of a pout.

“Yeah, well I need them. It’s not common to come across a good pair of panties in this world.”

“But I’d give ‘em back.” He’s full on pouting now. It is, unfortunately, very cute, but you’re used to it.

“Sure… like the pair you took from me the other night that I have yet to receive.”

“How else am I supposed to get you to come over?”

“I dunno? Maybe ask?”

“Should I leave a note on your door? Is that good enough for you?”

“At least be classy. A letter delivered in my mailbox with a wax stamp, please.”

He laughs. “As you wish, Princess.”

He finally peels off his sweatpants, free of underwear beneath them, and you watch with barely concealed hunger as his cock springs free.

And while you like the idea of him fucking you on the counter, you’d much rather him fuck you against the counter, so you hop down and turn so your back faces him. Your hands curl around the granite lip of the counter top, and you push your ass out and back, peering at him over your shoulder.

This way, it’s easier for him not to kiss you. Easier for you to turn your head and deny your lips to him.

“Look at you…” Joel hums appreciatively at your show, at the wiggle of your hips as his palm smooths down your back and over your ass, squeezing at the plump flesh.

You moan quietly, and Joel’s eyes darken, watching you intently like you’re the only thing in the room.

His fingers drift down to your cunt and your slickness coats his fingers fully. You’re so wet for him. So ready for him to bury himself inside you and call you his.

It’s funny, you’ve lost all your heat from a few nights ago. All your sharp edged words. Now, you’re soft and pliant.

He swirls his soaked index and middle fingers along your clit, punctuating your sensitivity, before sliding them back inside you to the knuckle. You keen and push back, desperate for more. His fingers are so much longer than yours, thicker, and yet you crave more.

“That’s it, Joel,” you huff. “Fuck, feels so good. Need more.”

“Yeah? Tell me what you need, baby girl.”

Shame lights your cheeks, but you push down the embarrassment. “Need…need your cock inside me.”

He lays a kiss on your neck. “Still a bit desperate aren’t we?”

“You’re the desperate one, Mr. Panty Stealer. You’re a fucking creep.”

He chuckles against your neck, but he squeezes your ass in retaliation. “Be nice, would you?”

“You like it when I’m mean.”

“Wanna see how much I like it?”

“If you’re willing to show me and get on with this, sure.”

He huffs in amused frustration. “God, you’re annoyin’.”

You just smile innocently at him.

Your legs tremble, slick running down your thighs when Joel pulls his fingers out. He replaces them with the hardness of his cock, of which he runs along your wetness, readying himself.

“I think ‘bout you way too much,” he says into your back, pressing a gentle kiss there. “D’ya think ‘bout me too?”

It’s an odd question. One you’re not expecting. One that has your heart stuttering in quiet confusion from this sudden switch in tone.

“Of course I do.” Obviously. You told him as much. Three weeks. Three weeks you thought about him.

“Good… wanna be the only thing on your mind.”

A high pitched keen hisses through your teeth as Joel eases himself inside you with a long, slow stroke and a low moan. Your fingers white knuckle the countertop, gripping it tightly.

He presses in close, burying himself all the way in before he withdraws slowly, his cock sliding inside you torturously.

“Joel,” you moan.

“I know, baby.” He presses kisses to your shoulders.

Joel’s hand gravitates to the back of your knee, and he slowly pushes up to lift your leg until your knee is resting on the counter.

And then… with this new angle…he starts fucking you in earnest.

His hips snap against your ass, the sound deafening in the kitchen, and you crumple against the granite with a moan.

“Shit,” Joel grunts. “Yeah.”

Each of his heavy thrusts punches the air from your lungs, and your fingers slip on the countertop, scrabbling for purchase every chance you can get. He’s hot, thick inside you, warm as he folds over you, his hand on your tummy holding you upright, the other keeping your leg up to continue hitting you at that pleasant, delicious angle.

“H-holy shit—oh—“

He breathes heavily at your neck, low grunts and moans escaping his lips from his efforts. “Could spend eternity inside you, darlin’. Fuck, you’re mine.”

Your heart stutters, the words uttered in a lust filled craze, likely meaning nothing. But to your traitorous brain, to the hope lingering in your chest like a persistent cough, they mean everything.

“All…” you’re losing your train of thought, fucked into blissful nothingness. “All yours, Joel.”

It’s too difficult for him to kiss you from this angle, which you’re relieved about. But a part of you longs for it, longs for the feel of his mouth moving against yours.

Joel’s strong arm wraps around your chest, and pulls you up so you’re flush against his back as he pounds up and into you. Keens and whimpers and breathless pants escape you with every thrust.

“Please, Joel,” you cry, tears pricking at the edges of your swirling vision.

“What, baby?” He huffs. “Need’a come?”

You nod crazily. “Yes—need to—“

“Shhh okay… I’ve got you,” he murmurs gently, the hand wrapped around your tummy inching down to circle at your clit steadily.

Your legs buckle beneath you but Joel keeps you upright as the pleasure soars through you, sudden and strong. He strokes you through it, groaning praises into your ear before he comes inside you a moment later.

The two of you hiss in tandem when he pulls out, but he smothers it when he lays his mouth over yours. You’re hardly coherent enough to remember your rule, and for a moment you let him kiss you. You kiss him back, chasing the heat of his mouth with your own, moaning against his lips when his tongue dips into your mouth.

Then, you remember.

You pull back panting, cheeks a flame, “Joel.”

“Hm?” He murmurs, dragging his lips down your jaw before moving back up to pull you into another kiss. You move away before he can. His brows furrow in confusion. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t… I don’t think we should kiss anymore.”

He blinks. “What? Why?”

Your eyes flit across the kitchen, catching on labeled jars and wooden spoons and spices, anything but his own. “It’s too intimate.”

It’s a lame excuse. Joel sees through it immediately.

“And my cock inside you ain’t?”

You sigh heavily, avoiding eye contact. “It’s different.”

“How? Enlighten me.” His tone has gone rougher. Hurt swirls in his eyes, and you feel worse than you did the other night.

Because you and I are friends. Because I don’t think I can pretend like that’s the truth when all I want is to call you mine. Because when I kiss you it’s like my world finally starts to make sense.

“Please, Joel. Just…I don’t want to do it anymore. Can you respect that, please?”

He runs a hand down his beard, his hurt expression hardening into a stoic one you haven’t been on the receiving end of in years. Fuck. “Alright, I’m sorry. I won’t kiss you anymore.”

You expect relief but all that comes is a deep longing and sadness that you try to push to the depths of your conscience. Though, like a buoy, it keeps popping above the surface.

“Thanks,” you say quietly.

The cleanup is awkward. He watches you silently as you pick up your underwear and slide them and your shorts back on. He seems far away, here and gone all at once. It makes you worry, makes you wonder if what you just said was the biggest mistake of your life.

But you have to do this. You have to hold him at arm's length because if you admit to him…if you tell him how you really feel… maybe he really will leave you. He’ll realize you’ve gone and fucked everything up, and the friendship you’ve kindled, the trust you’ve built, will all be for nothing.

You can’t lose him, even if it means you can’t keep him close.

“Thanks for tonight,” you say eventually, when he’s walking you out the front door.

He smiles at you, faint and untrue. It’s like the one from the other night. Like that laugh he forced out for you. You feel like a Joel from the past has teleported to the present, with his thin smile and his hard eyes. “Yeah, of course.”

“You okay?”

Joel frowns, shifts on his feet. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I dunno. You just seem… I don’t know. Never mind.”

“I’m good.”

“You sure?”

He nods. “You need me to walk you home?”

“No, I’ll be okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you hum. A moth circles the porch light. The two of you stare at each other for a long moment. He looks as if he wants to say something, but thinks better of it.

“Okay,” is all that he says.

“Okay,” you repeat, feeling empty. A waif, a lonely white flag waving in the wind. “Um, I’ll see you later, then.”

“Yeah, sounds good. Night, darlin’,” he says, squeezing your arm, like he’s trying to be normal. It doesn’t work. His hand is cold. “Sweet dreams.”

“Night, Joel.”

It’s raining by the time you reach your house, and you curl under your blankets after a shower, your hair cold and wet against your scalp, listening to the droplets splattering against your window.

Sleep doesn’t come easy.

part 3

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #tlou #game joel miller #pedro pascal #the last of us #joel miller #this is trouble

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puppy-phum · 1 month ago

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Pit Babe Characters x Cartomancy ➣ Part 3: North & Sonic

Six of Clubs: Sharing thoughts and ideas. Offering advice and giving honest opinions. Three of Hearts: Community as a network of support; Valuing and strengthening bonds within a group.

for @pitbabeanniversary week 3 prompts: north & sonic

(more thoughts under the cut!)

disclaimer: i am not an expert in either cartomancy or tarot reading. i did a lot of research on these two sites to come up with these cards for the characters. some of the meanings associated with the cards are still only my own interpretation, so they might not be completely accurate.

i have never before really analyzed north and sonic as characters. they've always felt like the most uncomplicated ones of the bunch, tho i guess that air of simplicity is quite deceiving as i discovered through this. there's a lot hidden behind the playful banter and humor these two add to the series.

north: if in the previous edit i pointed out that jeff is the eyes of the group, then north must be the mouth. he's a chatterbox, someone with words prepared at all times, never afraid to tease someone and speaking with such honesty it's almost too blunt. this made me feel that a card linked to communication and negotiating suits him. he might not always be the most intelligent or tactful of the group, but he isn't afraid to say things how they are or point out problems or possible discrepancies amongst the pack. his words might be light, but he genuinely cares for his pack.

that care is often shown through well-timed (or not) questions and advice. it happens especially with alan and babe who north gives "relationship advice" (leaving that into the quotation marks bc the advice is dubious at best lol) – north meddles bc he is genuinely excited about the possibility of adding new members to the pack and into the lives of those he cares about. he is also one of the first ones to address the question of kim and if they should help him out after he's been taken, plus he's very eager to discuss the question of way despite the rest of the group deciding to remain silent about him and his betrayal.

sonic: i had to think again to pinpoint the core element of sonic's character but eventually drifted towards how he's portrayed as the nurturer of the pack. babe is very obviously the center of the pack with his loud and commanding presence, but i think the warmer, more caring center piece is sonic. he's the one who keeps noticing how the bond within and around the pack grow and change, and he is greatly affected once those bonds start stretching out or break completely.

the importance sonic places on these bonds is then the most obvious during the times those bonds suffer a sudden change. i chose his images accordingly: sonic is deeply hurt by dean's betrayal as it both hurts him and those around him; by babe's heartbreak over charlie's death as he's forced to watch one of them so completely shattered and lost; and by way's sudden passing bc that means a complete loss of a bond that once was so fundamental to the whole pack. i think his care towards the community around him also partly explains why he isn't pursuing a deeper bond with north (he doesn't like things changing too much) or why he is so open to accept ppl like charlie, jeff, kim, and pete into their pack (new ppl offer him new bonds to wrap around himself). sonic is the keeper of these bonds, but at the same time, he is strongly a creation of them and cannot imagine being without them (and i cannot really imagine sonic without at least north beside him either).

as a pair, i think most ppl agree that north and sonic are very healing. bc they're so attuned to everyone in the group and bc they're not afraid to voice both their happiness and concerns, the pack knows when they're doing well and when they should be working on being better. i think the others in the group who are less vocal and show their emotions less freely benefit a lot from these two who are so... loud, both literally and figuratively. it's nice to have this kind of anchor and lighthouse to guide the pack on their hard journey.

(if anyone wants to discuss these two and other thoughts north and sonic might cause, i'm open to hear anything you have to say! i did very brief and surface level analysis on them for this, and probably missed a ton of nuances, so it would be nice to hear different takes on them.)

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bangtangalicious · 2 years ago

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death valley (m) | finale

summary: a summer internship at a famous record label turns wild with blurry nights of dangerous men, dirty money, and extremely hot sex. you soon get caught in a savage game of greed, power and obsession, only to find out that you are the grand prize

pairing: ot7 x f.reader smut ft: jimin x reader, namjoon x reader

genre: smut. yandere. mystery. thriller. gang!au rockstar!au

wordcount: 7k

warnings: multiple & explicit smut scenes. a is for angst baby, slow burn romantic post-argument sex, unprotected sex (bc), rough sex in a limo, coercion, extremely dubious consent but she gets out of it, namjoon is a big boi, manipulative and obsessive themes, choking, toxic relationships, some physical violence/fighting (not oc), drugs/alcohol mentioned, lots of kissing, dirty talk, creampie, heartbreak, betrayal, guns (not used), oral (f rec), jimin eats you out like a king, anxiety, declarations of love, somehow yet unsurprisingly taehyung is still really hot, yn jumps out of a car but shes ok, twists and turns ;) happy? ending - please read with caution!!! unedited

taglist (sorry if i missed ppl!): @imluckybitches @gee-nee @missseoulite @hcneybees@kooookie @queenmasterxx@crustycaitlin @virgo-and-libra@un2-verseverse@winter-melontea@equivocacies @infernal-alpaca@shrimpmsg@meowmeowyoongles @rjsmochii@liltangerined @littlrmills14blog @issysor@arandomblackgirl@adoringinsanity@giadalin@jeontier @kaithezaftig@jinssexytoe @nonnis97@minyoongiboongi@happygirl62304 @just-me-and-myselfs @purplepebbles @channiespup @lilacdreams-00 @kianam @thmrdrs@kpoppin-mel @namjooningelsewhere @lolzerss @planetsope @ohmykim @xyahrinx @bangtan-army @you-are-my-wind @yoongihandfetish @father-time-and-baby-new-year

Taehyung rolled a chess pawn in the palm of his hand. His eyes locked on the game board where two knights stood at the crossroads of his queen. The timer clicked softly in the background, but all Taehyung could hear was his heart beating loudly through his head. A weight dragging down his heart.

So this was guilt.

Taehyung never wasted time with such feelings. Caring for others had never come naturally to him. It was why he was so brilliant at what he did. He had engineered a façade to win your trust early on. In a sea of unhinged men, he meant to be a diamond in the rough. He was ever so sweet to you. Caring, even. Everything was intentional. Every move. Every lie.

Taehyung never wanted you to die. He couldn’t stomach it. Leaving you in the fire was intentional. He knew Namjoon was following you around like the creep he is. He had to see the betrayal in your eyes. He had to make you feel as bad as he felt. He had to do something that would make you want to kill him on sight. He needed to cut you off for good.

Now that he had, the thought of you hating him kept him up at night. He felt guilty.

Why do you care? Taehyung’s feelings for you—he wasn’t sure what they were. The moment you lost faith in him, he seemed to shatter. He wanted you to trust him. He yearned for your approval like never before. Would it have been so wrong to take you and run away? To keep you for himself, far from the chaos of this place?

He shook his head. Blinking at the chessboard a moment longer he began to smile. Giggle. Before he was laughing wildly. He slammed the table to the side, watching all the pieces scatter onto the marble floors.

It was unfair. It was so fucking unfair. Taehyung would have worshipped you. You were a goddess in his eyes. He shook his head. It was none of his business anymore. What you did—who you chose to be with. He had betrayed you. Lied to you since the moment the two of you met. The conflicting thoughts in his head racing a mile a minute—making him queasy with anticipation.

Just leave it alone. Do what you came here for.

Except he couldn’t. He couldn't sit idly by and watch you make a huge mistake. To be with someone who wouldn't allow you to be the amazing woman you were. Someone who only saw you as a prize. He needed you to leave him, to leave Death Valley—but wanted you to be happy.

Sighing, Taehyung reached for his phone. He was doing this for you. He would have done anything for you—but knew in his heart that his would be his last move.

Check and mate. He was done with you after this.

He tasted the remnants of your name on his lips before sending a final message.

You’d never forgive him. But at least you would be safe.

The clock ticking could barely hide the tension in the room. Jimin couldn’t even hear it, his ears filled with his racing heart. His lungs constricted—he could hardly breathe with how angry he was. Gripping the steel handles of his chair so tight, his knuckles were going white.

But he didn’t dare say a word. Because he had been in the business long enough to know when someone was plotting against him. Namjoon was naïve. Tacky, even. The desperation of his actions would have been amusing if it wasn’t for your pliable willingness to participate.

He couldn’t look at you. You were by his side, sitting with your hand on his arm. It was too painful—because you were cold. You were back to playing with his heart and he wasn’t sure how much more he could take.

“It’s just a PR stunt” Hobi had led them inside the label to a conference room. After a long sip of his coffee he spoke again. “They both agreed to it. Imagine the fucking ticket sales for your concert now”

Tugging at his sleeve, you leaned towards him. “I’m sorry baby, it’s not real though I promise.”

Jimin scoffed, turning his head. He knew you better than you thought and could see through your lies. What he couldn’t figure out was why? Why would you agree to something so rash and impulsive?

“This will also help us push down news about Yoongi’s death”

Jimin finally locked his gaze with yours. So that’s it, isn’t it. He truly hadn’t known until Jungkook told him. Was that why you were mad? Did you think he was behind this? This had Namjoon written all over it.

He turned to the bastard, who looked far too pleased with all this for his liking. Namjoon had been a pain in his ass from the day they had met. Fights, to tailing Y/n around every damn second, he couldn’t shake the creep and was getting fed up.

“What the hell did you tell her?”

Namjoon grinned. Leaning back, he ran his fingers through his hair. His newfound confidence was nauseating to Jimin—knowing that it was being fueled by you. “You know, I never really got what people see in you. You don’t even care about music. Your fans. Any of it. You don’t deserve any of it, and you definitely don’t deserve Y/n you crazy prick”

Jimin laughed bitterly, ticking his jaw. “Who the hell even are you? You’re nobody.”

“I’m the guy who just fucked your girlfriend a few minutes ago, let’s start there”

The tug on Namjoon’s lips sent Jimin off the edge. He lunged across the table, fists swinging but Jungkook jumped up to hold him back.

“Namjoon” You muttered sternly, but Jimin was not oblivious to the way you blushed. He scoffed. You had shattered his heart. In front of millions.

“Why?” His voice was quiet, holding your cheek into his palm when really he wanted to grip your throat and squeeze until you couldn’t breathe. “We don’t need this, I don’t care about ticket sales or breaking records anymore—all I want is you”

You sighed, “It’s not about you baby, I wanted to help Namjoon out a little too. It’s his first concert”

Jimin pouted, folding his arms over his chest. “Y/n, I hope you know that I trust you, but Namjoon clearly has an ulterior motive with you. You do see that, right?”

You scoffed, mumbling to yourself.

Jimin raised his eyebrows. “Is there something you want to say to me, Y/n?”

You shook your head. Your gaze was frigid. Everything about you was. He hated it. He wanted to fight, because at least then you would react to him. At least then he would know you cared enough to tell him what was on your mind.

Reaching for your hands, he brought your fingers to his lips, lightly brushing kisses against each one. He knew you liked it when he was soft with you. He needed to remind you who he was. Who he was to you.

“Listen baby,” He spoke softly, twirling your fingers with his, “Jungkook told me what happened to Yoongi” He pressed his lips to the palm of your hand. “I’m so sorry. And I can’t image what you’re going through right now. I know you cared about him”

You stared at him with disbelief, “I loved him, Jimin”

His heart sank. Fingers constricting around your wrist. A part of him wanted to toss a chair across the wall. Maybe pull out a gun and shoot Namjoon in the head.

He exhaled. He couldn’t lose you. Not after everything the two of you had been through. Jimin changed for you. You made him want to be better everyday. You taught him that there was more to life, and all he wanted was to go chase it with you by his side.

He could tell you were taunting him. Trying to get him to snap so you would have any excuse to go running to Namjoon, but he wasn’t about to give you the satisfaction. He was going to prove himself to you.

“I know.” He looked into your eyes. Searching them. Trying to convey his sincerity when he said, “If you want to talk about it—about him, I’m here for you”

You smiled. Fake. He hadn’t gotten through. He sighed in defeat, backing into himself. Jungkook cleared his throat. Jimin had forgotten they weren’t alone.

“Y/n, do you want me to drive you home?” Jungkook briefly looked at Jimin, indicating an understanding.

Namjoon stood up as you did, eagerly waving you goodbye. Jimin could have vomited, but stared aimlessly at the wall instead.

Your head was spinning. Dizzy trying to count the lies tossed around so easily minutes ago. You were grateful Jungkook offered you an out. Being around Jimin was too complicated. You needed to stay focused.

“Your acting skills have improved” Jungkook’s voice was amused, breaking the still silence surrounding you.

You grinned. Jungkook met your eyes in the rearview mirror and chuckled. “My god, Y/n what the fuck are you up to now?”

Licking your lips, you turned to face him. “Have you ever trusted someone so much, that even when the truth is staring right in front of you, you simply can’t see it?”

“You talking about Yoongi?”

“I’m talking about you” You pulled out a gun—something you had managed to snatch from Namjoon during sex. “Pull over and get out of the car”

The shock in Jungkook’s face was priceless. You finally sympathized with whatever sadistic kick Jin used to get out of tricking others. Jungkook quickly stopped the car, stepping outside with his hands in the air.

“Y/n” Jungkook’s voice was shaky, “Whatever this is, is a misunderstanding. You’re still messed up over Yoongi and I get that—but” He dropped to his knees, “J-just drop the gun and talk to me”

The thing was—you no longer had anything to say. You were rightfully fed up with the lies. Not only was Namjoon clearly lying to your face, but moments after you received a message from Taehyung.

Taehyung. The emotional haze over Yoongi and Jimin had almost made you forget—that the puppet master still lived, and more than likely, was still pulling the strings. You were willing to bet Taehyung killed Yoongi. It was so perfect. His whole plan had been perfect from the start and you were burning to look him in the eye one more time just to beat him at his own game.

Of course it had to be Taehyung. Taehyung killed Jin—and almost killed you. He had been the mastermind. The king. And like an idiot you trusted him. You really, truly trusted him.

You trusted he would never hurt you.

Your mind whirred. Reason escaping you completely you began to question everyone you had been around. Everyone always told you Jungkook was a liar. Good for nothing. Controlled by the highest bidder.

Well, the highest bidder was no longer Yoongi. If Taehyung killed Yoongi, Jungkook was probably balls deep in his pocket too.

“I’m gonna ask you once. Slowly” You gritted through your teeth, “Who killed Yoongi?”

“Y/n—I don’t know. Okay, I texted you when I found out from Joon. Why would I kill Yoongi, huh?”

“Never said you did. I’m asking if you know” You shook your head. You didn’t have time for his evasive answers. You clicked off the safety, making Jungkook tremble.

“Y/n what the hell, I’m on your side alright?”

“When I told you Taehyung was alive—you didn’t really react much. Did you know it was fake the whole time? Have you been helping him?”

“Y/n—if you’re asking if I will work for Taehyung now that Yoongi is dead” He exhaled, “Then yeah, I will. That’s what I fucking do, Y/n. Not all of us have popstar boyfriends who can take care of their every need. I gotta make my living and this is how I fucking do it. But you asked me to find Jimin even when Taehyung had kidnapped him and I did. I brought him to you. Taehyung isn’t after you. He just wants you to stay away from him. He would never hurt you, Y/n. And if I haven’t made it clear yet—neither would I”

“Oh you’re defending him now?” You raised your eyebrows.

“No—I just—Y/n just leave it alone. You have more pressing issues than Taehyung right now, trust me” You scoffed.

“What do you mean?”

Jungkook gulped. “I don’t know who killed Yoongi, honest. Namjoon was the last person I know who even saw him” He paused. “I’ve known Namjoon for a long time Y/n. I wouldn’t put it past him to be behind this.”

You shook your head. There was no way. Namjoon would never kill someone, let alone someone you cared about.

You’d had enough.

“Tell Taehyung I’m coming for him. He’s not getting away with this”

Driving Jimin’s car. You had forgotten the delirious high of stepping on that pedal and zooming through the highway without a care in the world. Nostalgia panged in your heart as you recalled simpler times, when you were hooking up with Jimin—and not being hunted down by a ruthless gangster.

You arrived at Jimin’s apartment, unsure if he himself was there.

He wasn’t.

You knew he would be mad. You truly had appreciated his effort to stay calm in such a situation. You felt bad for the way you acted but you needed Hobi and Namjoon to think you were against Jimin. After all, Taehyung was always watching.

Tearing off your clothes you ran into his room, ready to surprise him and hopefully, convince him not to let out his anger at you. Jimin arrived a few hours later. You heard his offbeat steps. He’s drunk. Quickly you grabbed one of his shirts, threw it on before meeting him in the kitchen. His eyes widened upon seeing you.

“Y/n—” His voice was soft. Slurred. Eyes shot red—you were unsure if he was even truly conscious.

“Sshh” You wrapped your arms around him, pressing your lips to his neck. “I’m so sorry baby. Let’s get you to bed. I’ll tell you everything tomorrow.”

You felt something cold against your skin. Tears. Your heart dopped into a pit. “Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me” He mumbled into your skin. Carefully, you led Jimin into the bed, slipping under the sheets next to him. You held him close to your chest, hoping that the beat of your heart might give him some solace.

Jungkook’s words echoed in your mind: You have more pressing issues than Taehyung right now. You thought back to the previous day. How Namjoon had so easily convinced you to give up on the man who clearly adored you? He baited you. Swung the news of Yoongi’s death in your face all too conveniently. Was Namjoon working for Taehyung too? The two men hardly ever interacted. But you were cross examining everything you ever thought you believed. The only truth you could hold onto now, was Jimin.

Jimin had no reason to lie. No reason to kill Yoongi because you had already chosen Jimin. Whoever killed Yoongi needed a good enough motive. Taehyung had motive—he wanted Death Valley to himself. There wasn’t anyone else unless…

Your eyes fluttered shut.

It must have been the middle of the night. You felt Jimin stir next to you. Cautiously you let your eyes flutter open.

Jimin jumped up, gasping for air suddenly. He was breathing heavily, a cold sweat breaking out all over him. You quickly brought a glass of water to him, guiding it to his lips. Stroking his back, you calmed him down until he was able to look you in the eye.

“Get the fuck out of my house” His voice came out broken. As though he had been yelling into a void for hours and no longer had any fight left in him. When you didn’t move, he pushed you away. “Did you hear me? I said get out.”

The frightening part was that he wasn’t raising his voice. Anger laced each syllable that left his quivering lips. A sense of desperation swept over you—he had to hear you out.

“Jimin—baby, I’m sorry, okay I was faking it” Jimin leaped out of the bed, the glass of water spilling across the bed. His fists were clenched tight. Jaw locked, eyes glaring.

“I don’t care why you did it, Y/n. You promised me you would come straight home from work. You didn’t. I come and find that you publicly agreed to marry someone else?” He huffed, kneeling to shuffle through his drawers. He found his pill bottle, twisting the cap off and dropping a few tablets into his palm. You went over to him, grabbing his wrist before he could take them.

“Why do you think I made such a fuss about you leaving? I don’t want to suffocate you Y/n. I don’t want to hold you back but fuck can you blame me for being scared? I swear one day you’re saying you love me the next you’re off with Yoongi or making out with Namjoon. I love you—and I think you love me too. If you’re planning something tell me. You keep hurting me Y/n—you keep making me miserable by breaking my heart” Looking you dead in the eye, he tossed the pills into his mouth, gulping them down.

“Jimin. I know you didn’t kill Yoongi. Namjoon thinks you did, and I admit, for a moment I believed him. But then I got thinking, and I realized it had to be Taehyung” You let go of his hand, only for Jimin to sat back down on the bed, head hanging over in defeat.

“And in all that time you had to think you couldn’t bother to give me a fucking phone call?” Jimin gritted through his teeth. You knew he was right. You had been acting out for some time now—and the fact of the matter was: you were overwhelmed.

Jimin watched your conflicted face. So much had happened. You had never taken a second to truly reflect. Realizing you loved Yoongi despite his obsessiveness. Finding out what he had done to you. First you thought Jimin had died at the hands of Yoongi—then Yoongi at the hands of Jimin, all while Namjoon had been pining for you, and you faced the biggest betrayal when Taehyung left you to die in the fire.

“I can’t do this” Your voice barely above a whisper, you quickly began to gran your things. You needed to be alone. You needed to think. You dashed for the door but Jimin was faster. He blocked you with his arm, cornering you against the door.

“You’re not leaving”

“You literally told me to get out” You screamed. It didn’t matter than he hadn’t raised his voice. It didn’t matter than he was only inches away from you.

“You do not speak to me like that” Jimin whispered. His eyes bore holes into yours. You shuddered under his gaze. “Do you understand?”

You nodded.

Jimin hissed, fingers cupping your jaw. Tilting your face towards his. “Words”

“Yes”

His gaze shifted. You recognized it right away. The predatory, lustful gaze whenever he wanted you. Pupils turning dark. Laser sharp.

“Let me in” He whispered against your cheek. His breath tingling against the heat rising to your face. “Let me in to that twisted little head of yours”

You kissed him.

With a slight turn of your head your lips were on his. Familiar. Comforting. Yet ablaze with the same carnal desire as when you first met him. It was exhaustion and relief. It was pain and sadness. It was you and him. Nothing so imperfect, so uniquely flawed had ever made more sense to you.

“I love you” Your lungs had no air—but the words were easy to say. In a sea of lies maybe this was the only truth you needed. Gasping you jumped up into his arms, wrapping your legs around his hips—arms around his neck. He was warm. Melting you down. Inhibitions released.

He was being gentle. You may have wanted him to be rough but it wasn’t what you needed right now. He carefully carried you back into the kitchen, setting you on the countertop. Shelved between your thighs he gripped your hips, rocking to a slow rhythm, your bodies pressed up tight.

His fingers trailed over you, until his hands found your face. Cupping your cheeks he kissed you more intensely. His lips were so soft. Incredibly sweet. Everything else seemed to disappear.

He backed away, catching his breath. When his eyes fluttered open, you could appreciate again how beautiful this man was.

“You drive me crazy Y/n” He blinked at you, pressing his forehead to yours. You grinned—to which he lifted you back up as you squealed, giggling as he swung you around. Pressing your back against he wall he held you steady on his thigh, fingers finding your aching core. Gazing into you, he watched as you squirmed under his touch. Your pussy clenching as he rubbed tight circles against your clit. He was beyond turned on, seeing the way your eyes rolled back as he touched you. The way your lips parted and you fingers dug into his flesh.

“Shit you’re so fucking hot” He let you land on your feet before dropping to his knees. You stared down at him in shock, hand weaving through his hair as he peeled off your panties. He pressed his nose to your pelvis, breathing you in deeply. You blushed, thighs trembling as his tongue found your clit, licking soft kittenish striped around the sensitive flesh.

Heat burned through you—twitching through your veins. Your heart pounded, nails scraping against his scalp—tugging at his hair. “F-fuck, baby” You moaned—his hands pushing your thighs apart.

“You taste so good baby” His deep voice vibrated through you. You sighed, missing his warmth suddenly. Pulling him back up you pulled him in for another kiss—tasting yourself on his wet lips. Your tongue sliding over his. Moans passing softly between the little space between you two.

“Want you inside me” You felt him smirk under your lips, heart skipping a beat.

“Yeah?” He breathed into you, cocky, teasing—edging you on. “Of course you do” His hands slid to your ass, roughly grabbing a handful before spanking you lightly. He rolled his hips into you, bulge pressed against your clit. The friction was amazing, but you wanted him to fill you up. You needed him deep inside. Needed to feel closer.

Your fingers tugged at his waistband, and Jimin simply chuckled as you pulled down his pants. Not missing a beat he hooked your leg over his elbow, kissing your ankles—down your calf, before finding your lips again. His other hand tugged at his cock, lining it up with you—grinning when he felt your weat heat suck in his tip so eagerly.

“You’re dripping for me angel” He whispered. You blushed, quivering as he sank a little deeper into you. You pulled off your shirt. He bottomed out, staring at your chest.

“Fuck, why are you so perfect?” He groaned, unsure if it was from the pleasure of being inside your tight cunt or your breasts hanging out in front of him, all for him—him only. He pinched your nipples between his fingers, eyes glued to the way you face twitched with pleasure. He loved how you looked when he made you feel good. He never wanted to stop. One hand steadying your leg, he carefully pulled out all the way till the tip—your slick coating him, dripping from him. It was amazing to see, as he entered you again, his breath became shaky. You felt so good, so warm around him. You were the best he’d ever had.

Forearms caging your head, he gently traced the side of your face, dragging out and thrusting back in. It was red—heat—burning desire. He took it slow, but you could feel his desperation in every move. His lips brushed over yours, his taste a whisper away.

You lowered your leg, pushing him away so you could turn around. Quickly discarding his own shirt, he cupped your breasts with his hands before pressing his chest into your back. His fingers leaving sparks across your body as his cock slipped back inside you, the sound of his hips pounding against your ass echoing through the room.

“Fuck” He cursed, kissing the nape of your neck before grabbing your hair—pushing your face to press up against the wall. Lips on your jaw, moaning your name as he thrusted in and out, like he had no time to lose. You gasped for air. His cock filling you up so good, hitting you right where you liked it. Your legs felt numb, trembling in bliss as he continued to drive into you.

“You wanna cum, baby?” He whispered into your mouth. Your eyes were watering with need. “Oh, poor baby wants to cum so fucking bad doesn’t she?” You nodded weakly, his fingers finding your clit again. Flicking at it.

“Jimin—” Your voice was broken. Lost in pleasure, “Feel—so good, fuck”

He smiled, “Go ahead baby—look at me when you cum. Wanna see your pretty face when you cum on my cock”

Your eyes locked. It was want. Need. And everything in between. This was all you’d ever wanted, it had always been him. You weren’t ready when you first met him, and neither was he. You weren’t what he expected, and he was everything except your fantasy.

In it’s own, twisted way, it was love at first sight. Obsession at first sight. Hate—turned into something so beautiful.

“I’m gonna cum, Jimin” You liked that you could say his name. You liked that he would say yours. His eyes softened as he felt you tighten around him. It hit you like lightening—you fell apart in pleasure. It was ecstasy—the high you’d been chasing all along. The high only he could give you. He groaned loudly, spilling into you moment after as you twitched in his hold. You dripped all around him, soaking your thighs.

“I love you, Y/n” He kissed you deeply, panting into you, “I love you so much”

“I love you too, Jimin, always” You assured him—cupping his face, “It’s always gonna be you”

“Talk to me” He gazed at you sincerely, nothing but adoration in his eyes, “Just talk to me, whatever you’re thinking, I wanna know. Okay, I trust you. So please, just trust me too”

You nodded, leaving a final chaste kiss lingering on his lips. “I do. I have one last thing to take care of, and then I promise we can go away. Trust me one last time. I’ll come back to you”

You were never a high heels kind of girl. But there was a lot of press tonight—press expecting you to make an appearance tonight. The stunt had created so much buzz that Hobi specifically hired hair and makeup for you. He allowed Namjoon to pick out your dress—it was black. Tight fitting. Simple. Sleek. Teardrop diamond earrings and a small necklace.

You’d never wear this to a concert. How were you supposed to dance? Let loose. But then you remembered—tonight wasn’t supposed to be fun. Not for you.

You had thought long and hard about what you were going to say to the press waiting early outside. Hobi instructed you to wait for Namjoon before making an entrance. You called Jimin earlier, letting him know where your head was at. He seemed to be supportive of whatever decision you decided to go—as long as you didn’t embarrass him any further.

It had been a while since you had seen Namjoon. He had always been somewhat of an afterthought, and yet you knew you had led him on hopelessly. It was time to come clean. You were unsure how he would take it.

“Wow” Namjoon stood in the doorway of your fitting room. Leaning against the side—he looked breathtaking. Ripped jeans, black tank top—were those earrings? Your eyes widened. You’d never seen him in glam, but admittedly it suited him. His abs protruding through the soft fabric. He looked like a dream.

He looked like Jimin. Back then.

“Why would you want me in heels?” You whined, giving him a friendly kiss on the cheek, “Please let me change”

He pouted—as he always did, knowing full well you’d never say no to his pretty eyes. “I like knowing you’re dressed for me” You giggled, inviting him inside to sit down.

“God, I want you right now” He looked up at you, hands on your sides, running up and down the silky fabric. Pinching at it. Ready to tear it off of you in a moment. And you knew he could—his biceps flexing, you had almost forgotten how big he was. How strong.

You clicked your tongue, teasing him as you slid his hands off. “You have to get ready for your big night”

Namjoon ran his fingers through his hair, leaning back slightly. “I wanted to talk to you about that actually—can I bring you out on stage? I wrote a new song about you, and was planning to open with it”

You shifted your weight. Clearing your throat in discomfort. You truly had wanted to wait until after the show to talk to Namjoon about your relationship—but this complicated things.

Like a saving grace, Hobi appeared in the doorway. “Your limo is here, let’s go”

You held onto Namjoon’s arm. Taking a deep breath, the two of you stepped outside where cameras were lined up for miles. Lights. Flashing. Your name being called. Shouted. It was dizzying. The limo door was open and Namjoon led you there, allowing you to slide in with ease. The car was gorgeous inside—golden velvet seats, glasses of champagne. So this was the life of a rockstar’s girlfriend.

You were an object. Candy on the arms of someone who mattered.

Namjoon noticed your demeanor change, covering your hand with his. “Like I was saying baby, I really want my fiancée up there with me for my first concert”

The word stuck out like a sore thumb. It made you nauseous to think about. “Namjoon—that wasn’t real” You reminded him cautiously. You couldn’t afford to make him upset, not right now.

Namjoon was taken aback. He looked baffled, hand moving to your wrist. “It was to me. You love me, don’t you?”

Oh God. You paused.

You shouldn’t have paused.

“You love me, don’t you?” He repeated his words. Except his voice was getting loud. The space was getting small. The windows were tainted black. The lights were too dim to see clearly. You licked your lips nervously, carefully trying to pull your hand away from him.

You needed to speak. You had to tell him the truth, but when you looked into his eyes you saw something familiar. Something deranged. Yoongi’s eyes.

“You ungrateful whore” Namjoon’s voice was booming. You’d never heard him yell. Never thought him capable. Your eyes shut, shielding you from his terrifying voice. “Don’t you know everything I’ve done for you? I’m the only one who really knows you—knows what you want. And I became that—look at me Y/n” He grabbed your face, “I am everything you have ever wanted. I’ve been by your side through all of it. I’m the only one who gives you control. I saved you Y/n—I protected you every step of the way. I didn’t know bringing you to Death Valley was putting you in danger but Taehyung promised it would mess with Jimin so I agreed.”

Your eyes flew open. “Wait what?”

“I saved you from the fire Y/n—when Taehyung tried to kill you—it was me! I waited outside of Jimin’s apartment for days, I even tried to break in and get you out. We’ve taken on the world together Y/n. It was always us against them”

Jungkook’s words came back to you again. I wouldn’t put it past him to be behind this.

“You’re saying, you knew Taehyung was behind all of this, from the very beginning? I thought you two had never met”

A panicked look crossed Namjoon’s eyes. He gripped your shoulders, shaking you lightly. “We hadn’t met. Technically”

You rolled your eyes, “Well Namjoon—technically, I didn’t say I loved you. So get the fuck off of me”

He didn’t move, “You can’t be serious Y/n—I’m the reason he hasn’t been able to hurt you. I protected you from him, from Jimin, from Yoo—”

Your phone buzzed. Namjoon tilted his neck in irritation as you clumsily pulled it out. Taehyung? You opened the text—your eyes widened. Namjoon’s eyes narrowed as your breathing came to a sudden halt. Blinking, you put your phone away, meeting Namjoon’s desperate gaze once again.

“Tell them to stop the car”

You could feel him tremble, his nails digging into your flesh. “No”

“It was you. You killed Yoongi—and tried to pin it on Jimin” You shivered in his hold. You couldn’t have another Yoongi in your life. Another man who was willing to shape your environment to have you. To control you. To see you as nothing more than a trophy.

“Yoongi was horrible to you. I did you a favor, baby. I did everything you wanted. You owe me” Namjoon hissed—his hold unwavering. He dove for your lips, roughly snatching them between his. Anguish flooding through his touch. You groaned—unable to move—unable to push him away.

He was so big. His muscular chest pressing against you. His breath hot, mingling with yours. Eyes shut—lost in bliss while yours were wide open. You had never seen more clearly. When had Namjoon become this monster? And had it been your fault all along? Did you do this to him?

As guilt plagued your thoughts, Namjoon took it as an opportunity to go further. Other hand on your thigh, he slipped his fingers under your dress—hooking them around your panties before yanking them both down sharply. The fabric burned against your sensitive skin. But he could care less. His bulge was throbbing, pressed tight against your hole he jerked his hips. The button of his jeans giving a painful relief to your core.

As if awaken from a haze you placed your hands on his chest—attempting to push him away. He smirked at your effort—you couldn’t move him. There was no way. Namjoon was far stronger than you—and you knew that.

With a swift motion of his hand he unbuttoned his pants, allowing his eager cock to spring up. Tugging at it, he looked back into your eyes. You shuddered at what you saw. He was gone. The Namjoon you knew wasn’t in there. He had lost it.

“Wait—” You could barely breathe. The lack of air driving you to a sense of faintness. Weakly you called out his name, hoping you could get to him. Break through to the Namjoon you really knew.

“Don’t fucking act so innocent, Y/n” He hissed, “I know you better than all of them. I know you love this. I know you want to slobber all over my cock, let me bounce you up and down on it until your crying for me. I know you want it to hurt—baby I’ll make it hurt” He tightened his grip. Instinctively your fingers came up to your neck, attempting to pry him off so you could breathe. “I can give you everything you’ve ever wanted don’t you see, Y/n? It’s always been me. By your side from the very beginning. I’ve seen it all. Every step of the way. I love you and you love me it’s been us against the world—don’t you see?” His words were incoherent. You were beginning to lose consciousness. At some point Namjoon slid inside you. Lips parted in pleasure, he thrust into you—tight and hard.

Your eyes threatened to close. Mind going blank as the image of him began spotting. You didn’t know who you were wishing to come save you. You were so tired of being saved. Of needing to be.

Weakly you slid your hand up his chest. Over his neck and cupped his cheek. Kiss me—you tried to speak but nothing came out. Namjoon seemed to get the hint though. He let you go and you gasped for air—a short lived effort when he swallowed your lips once again.

His cock burned inside of you, dragging against your walls your pussy trying to push him out but he heathed himself deeper and deeper. It felt good—you hated that it did. You hated that it was him as his lips slid to your neck, sucking love bites across your shoulders.

You felt claustrophobic. You needed air. You needed space—tears began to build in your eyes. Your free hand searched for your phone—fumbling it in your hands as you dialed the name popping up. You felt the device vibrate, and a wave of relief swept over you. You were not going to surrender.

You still had a little fight left in you.

“You didn’t just kill Yoongi” Your fingers found the back of his head. Namjoon looked up—lips swollen, breathing heavily. Eyes blasted with lust and need. “You became him”

Namjoon growled, shifting you with ease until you were on top of him, holding your neck against the car door. You grinned—reaching for the champagne glass you tosses the liquid in his face.

Reflexive, his hands went to his face, wiping the burning alcohol from his eyes and in that moment you rolled aside, opening the car door. It didn’t matter than your panties were hanging from your ankle. It didn’t matter that your neck was bruised.

The car was driving fast. There was no one else around. You could jump.

Weighing your options in your head, you hear a loud engine some ways in the distance. A motorcycle caught up to the limo—the rider, a bed of jet black wavy hair that you recognized all too well. Eyes closed, you took a moment, Namjoon grabbed for you but you kicked him off.

You jumped.

Namjoon arrived at the venue, royally pissed off. You ruined his big night—how could you? Were you really that selfish? He knew Jimin would be there. He was ready to put an end to things once and for all. No gun on him—he wasn’t worried. Jimin was small. Jimin was weak. And not nearly as devoted to you as he was. Not willing to go the extra mile to have you.

Ignoring the cameras who plagued him with questions, he pushed past the crowds and marched backstage. His fists trembling, his heart beating fast—blood pumping adrenaline like never before. He was feral. Ready to kill on sight.

Jimin stood backstage, sitting at a mirror and touching up his own makeup. He noticed Namjoon behind him, eyes rolling slightly.

“Good, you’re here” Jimin said, a mocking tone in his voice. Upon closer look, Namjoon could see that Jimin had been removing his makeup. “Hobi has been informed, but I will not be performing tonight. The stage is all yours, asshole.”

Namjoon grabbed Jimin’s arm, “What?”

Jimin chuckled, “You’re such a fucking idiot. Though I suppose all new stars are” He looked him up and down, “Wow, you’re real original aren’t you? Are those my clothes?”

Namjoon swung a punch. Jimin ducked in time. He was no idiot. He knew he couldn’t fight Namjoon.

Luckily, he wouldn’t have to. He had already won.

“Aren’t you wondering where Y/n is?” Namjoon hissed, pacing around Jimin ready to swing at him again.

“I know where she is, Namjoon. I also know what you did to her. And if it were up to me, I’d shoot your sorry ass into the ground right now” Jimin sighed, “But that’s not what she wants. So go out there, and do what you’ve always dreamed of. Leave me and Y/n alone because I swear to you Namjoon—I might leave but I’m always gonna have eyes on you—and I’ll have you dead in an instant.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah” Namjoon turned to see Hobi, gun in hand. “It is. Do what you were hired to do, Namjoon. Let her go”

Namjoon screamed, falling to the floor. Jimin and Hobi exchanged amused looks.

“We better get some great songs out of this” Hobi muttered to Jimin. He grinned widely.

One year later.

The warm glow of early morning sun rays filtered through the white curtains. Your eyes fluttered open, a sense of bliss washing over you as you processed your surroundings. Outside the ocean glimmered, waves softly scathing over the shore. Children ran across the sand—couples played in the water. You turned back to see the love of your life lying peacefully, tangled in the white sheets. The comforter hanging off of him, his toned back bare and ever so still. You picked up his shirt from the ground, buttoning it up as you walked over to the window.

A package was waiting for you. A black box, tied neatly with a red ribbon—no indication of who it was from, or where. You noticed the window was cracked open a smidge. Carefully you untied the ribbon, sliding the top off the box to reveal its components.

It was a leather jacket. The jacket. Jimin's jacket.

You look outside, searching—unsure what for. You see a camera on the edge of the building across from yours.

You smile.

Setting it aside, you quickly crawl back into bed, wrapping your arms over Jimin’s back, and pressing kisses all over his neck. He hums softly, unwilling to wake up. You nuzzle against him, before allowing your eyes to fall shut once again. Dreams overtaking you.

series navi | masterlist | scream in my ask box

a/n: and scene! thank you for reading and for being so incredibly patient! i hope this was satisfying <3 i love you all!!

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toneinaflat · 4 months ago

Text

ima put some mike hcs here too, because im obsessed with this little goober !!! originally posted this in a smash bros rp server

-Mike's creator Dr. Crygor is a father figure to him. Their relationship isnt abusive, but its more like Mike acting like an annoyed, angsty teen with his somewhat protective silly guy of a father. Mike appreciates his family, despite not straight up expressing that half the time.

-Mike works with music programs! this is why he talks about synthesizers and other musical things in such great detail. However, he's been trying *not* to punch a hole through his screen for a while now. Crygor has better things to do than to fix that old hand-me-down laptop apparently.

-Mike is Nonbinary! Mike goes by He/they.

-Mike was originally started on as having female characteristics in mind like Doris 1, but eventually, near the last minute, he was changed to having more male characteristics. However, some parts of programming never got fixed, so he still has some traits that could be considered "off" at times. Mike is aware of this and has chosen to go by being Nonbinary.

-Mike is also Pansexual! However, he isnt that interested in women to begin with. They aren't completely out of the picture, but...y'know. if you ever asked him what type of women he's into, he'd probably respond with "men" and stare at you deadpan until you eventually change the topic, or leave.

-He takes care of the Mics on his head like they're his literal children. Do NOT fuck with his mics. Despite this, he has no problem with acting like the damned popstar from Miitopia. he WILL throw his mics at you and do some cool ass attacks with them. but yeah, he cleans them every day :-] the beginning of warioware get it together has him cleaning them, and he literally says "a clean mic is a happy mic!" to himself. its adorable

-mike is actually apparently canonically a great cook! i dont get the reason why his favorite thing to make is fruit punch though. he might be stupid

-he is probably hatsune miku's number one defender tbh. if not that he is also kasane teto's number one defender and teto is probably like an idol to him LMAO

-he does not watch a lot of anime! he was not lying. but he does enjoy jojo's bizzare adventure a lot and nicknames the show "bisexual men battle" sometimes for shits and giggles

- i hc the reason why his voice has been so fucked up in recent entries is because mike broke his voice a little bit after warioware touched with that singing tournament he won, and crygor had to fix him and tune his voice. however crygor is PROBABLY tone deaf. and fucked his voice up. and mike has no idea. recently though, someone could've tuned his voice to be correct again! (this...honestly was most likely penny, however in overrift, it was miku! yes. miku. that miku.)

-he's tried taking up guitar recently but kind of sucks. he thinks he's pretty good though right now

-mike has definitely thought about life as a human and has wondered what it would've been like if he was born a human. he can only dream i guess. (he's also recently begun thinking about this again. and also having cool human clothes and a more human singing voice)

-mike may seem like he has a big ego, but he definitely can have it shattered somewhat easily if something hits him in the gut (metaphorically) and he actually has a big heart. he cares a lot for people but sometimes has a hard time showing it, and his programming will sometimes falter and make him very unstable like mentally and physically

-mikes typing style changes depending on how comfortable he is when talking to certian people. hence him key mashing and typing casually with penny and more monotone and proper with other people he doesnt know.

might make a part 2 if ppl r interested !!!

#overrift #warioware mike #mike warioware #warioware #warioware art #warioware au

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hellmastermiller · 1 month ago

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I’m sorry about your mom. As far as coping goes, I’m pretty emotionally stunted but here’s some (admittedly quite common) stuff I use which you’ve probably heard of:

Make a checklist of things you should/could do in a day to keep yourself from skipping out. It’s easy to just sink into the floor and not do anything, and the checklist hold you slightly accountable. Start off with more easily attainable daily goals (ex. today I will clean my desk) and then begin to add some things (ex. today I will clean my desk + bed).

Talk to people: they say this one helps the most, and I’m sure you know this. Think about how you’d feel talking to a stranger in a support group V.S a friend. If it sounds more appealing, you can take a step toward finding a free group/one you can afford. Hell, if you post this ask giving me the green light, I could even DM you if you’d like. We’re mutuals but we’ve never directly spoken

Know that maybe even a year from now, the grief can hit you in an unexpected way, and that’ll be okay. A close family member of mine died about 10 years ago and sometimes I wind up feeling sick with how much I miss them. I don’t think the feeling ever leaves, you just learn to sort of… accept that it’s there and always will be

And as everyone always says, be nice to yourself. Have a sweet treat. Try to go on a short walk around your block. Seek new emotional experiences— maybe go see a movie you’re excited about or rewatch one that you love. Pick up a hobby you haven’t recently indulged in and try it out again.

Grief is weird, and it sucks. But it’s natural and it’s okay to always feel a little bit sad over losing someone. I wish you nothing but the best.

thank u so much. i'm emotionally stunted asf too so the last three months has been absolutely crazy LMAO. i'll dump more dramatic stuff under the cut so ppl don't have 2 listen to my whining

but thank you. this means a lot to me, i'll fucking print this out n glue it to my screen to force myself to remember. feel free to dm me if you want, but only if you want to; i'll probably just bitch and sob and whine a lot, so don't feel pressured at all. listening to someone go on and on can be so mentally draining, but your offer means the world to me. thank u <3

but yeah, i heard that grief is just forever. i guess it's like mental illness in a way. it never goes away, but you learn to cope. i hope you have people there for you when you miss your family member.

TW DEATH!!! TALKING ABT DEATH1!!! SOIRRY!!!!

i was the one who found my mom dead so i feel like that just added another layer 2 the insanity. i forced myself to see her a few times before the cremation too, hoping it'll make everything click, but it's that adhd "out of sight out of mind" type beat. it makes grief so stupidly hard.

i've been the glue keeping my dad n bro together too. i still remember being the one to clean her fluids from the wall and the carpet while they sobbed and it was so fucked up. answering questions from the cops and paramedics. dealing with funeral arrangements.

my father and i found a fucking dent in the wall from where her head hit too. it's the fucking outside wall too, so she hit her head on it so fucking hard that the plaster came off. it breaks my heart. we had such a difficult relationship too so it just makes everything all the more painful. the regret is so real.

i found so much out about her too after she'd died. so many little things i could've used to talk to her, to bond, to help her. drives me up the fuckin' wall, man. makes me fucking crash out.

and not to sound like an idiot, but one of my guinea pigs fucking DIED like a few weeks after her too and it actually broke me LMAO. my mom bought those pigs, so to lose one of them just fucking shattered me.

even worse is that his brother doesn't give a shit, so i have one guinea pig who is absolutely thriving because he gets the entire room to himself now. (for anyone who knows my guinea pigs, IT'S DAVID THAT DIED. ELI LIVED. rip solid snake :( )

#sorry lots of vent under the thingy. i haven't vented on tumblr since i was like 16 is2g #but again thank you. means the world to me. thank you #4 later

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thegenvyisreal · 1 year ago

Text

Good Omens Season 2 Episode 6 Thoughts (for real this time)

Let's just take this chronologically so I can lose my mind at the end.

Crowley in heaven! What a dork! He looks lovely I hope SO MANY PPL cosplay him.

OKAY. OKAY LISTEN. I know we never got Crowley's angelic name but that demon was a SERAPH I WILL NOT BE TAKING QUESTIONS. I AM A RAPHAEL!CROWLEY TRUTHER AND WILL BE SO UNTIL PROVEN OTHERWISE.

He's so powerful! Someone on here pointed out that when Gabriel in the recording said he was the only supreme (or level 1 or something?) archangel in heaven it panned immediately to Crowley. MY MAN. MY GIRL. CROWLEY IS SO IMPORTANT!!

Throwing encyclopedias at the demons and Aziraphale wincing, boy I feel you.

And shax made fun of Zira for liking food?? Okay fat shamer! Get fucked!

Wartime Halo Demon Bomb?? Great band name.

Crowley defusing a war with just saying "no, bad, do NOT"? The power he has!!

OMG

INEFFABLE

BUREAUCRACY

First of all, I THOUGHT the fly was a Beelzebub thing! I just didn't think it had Gabriel's memories in it.

Their little love story was cute, but explain to me HOW we were supposed to deduce why the jukebox is the way it is or WHY Gabe lost his memories without the Bureaucracy exposition??? NEIL YOU WANTED US TO FIGURE IT OUT BUT HOW???

Good for them for going off together but it's just so SILLY how THEY get to have that and our duo DON'T. I do not like it.

Okay. Let's get on with it.

So I DON'T get my angsty finale, but I do get something INFINITELY WORSE.

Maggie and Nina coming to Crowley to tell him what's up. Good for them!

Nina calling Maggie Angel I ALMOST FELL OUT OF MY CHAIR

Hell yes Derek Jacobi you're so lovely but I want to punch the Metatron in the FACE.

Why on earth would you get Zira THAT coffee?? He doesn't drink coffee!! Is this some power trip?? Is there SOMETHING IN THE COFFEE???

Aziraphale. Sweetie. Darling. Dear boy. You're so STUPID.

Crowley being like, I need to tell you this right now or I may never be able to say it. And Zira like, hold that thought! YOU RUDE LITTLE BITCH LET HIM SPEAK.

Aziraphale. WHY. WHY DO YOU INSIST THAT HEAVEN IS SO WONDERFUL AND GOOD!!! THEY SUCK!! THEY HURT PEOPLE!! YOU LITERALLY LIED TO THEM ABOUT JOB'S KIDS CUZ YOU KNEW THEY WERE WRONG!! WHY DO YOU KEEP DEFENDING THEM!!

Crowley confessing. Begging Aziraphale not to do this. Aziraphale not understanding why Crowley WOULDN'T want to do this. ZIRA AFTER EVERYTHING CROWLEY'S BEEN THRU YOU WANT HIM TO GO BACK TO HIS ABUSIVE FAMILY???

The kiss.

My heart shattered.

I've been waiting for this moment for over a month, and I got it in the WORST POSSIBLE WAY. Crowley's desperation, Aziraphale not knowing how to react. Not reacting at all. Crowley kissed him and he just stood there.

Sidebar: I KNOW that Aziraphale KNOWS that he's in love with Crowley. He KNEW in 1941. You dumbass. You imbecile. You fucker. Why.

"I forgive you".

LITERALLY MURDER ME

I want to understand him. I am Aziraphale-coded for sure. But I guess I'm also Crowley-coded?? Idk what to do with my feelings.

The WAY he SAYS the line. The ACTING from Michael. Bravo bb. THE WAY. HE SAYS IT. MY HEART IS ALREADY TORN OUT AND NOW YOU PUT IT THRU A MEAT GRINDER.

Excuse me Zira I have one question:

WHAT.

ON EARTH.

DOES HE NEED TO BE FORGIVEN FOR.

YOU ABSOLUTE TWAT.

I'm gonna commit multiple crimes.

Crowley just standing there HEARTBROKEN. He LOVES THAT ANGEL SO MUCH. HE WOULD DO ANYTHING FOR HIM. I'M GONNA MCFUCKING LOSE IT.

And he just walks out. And Aziraphale looks just as broken. I hate it. I hate it I hate it I hate it.

And after EVERYTHING. Crowley still waits by his car. Waits to see if Aziraphale will come to his senses and come back for him. But he doesn't. Zira even LOOKS BACK AT HIM before going into the elevator. How DARE you. How FUCKING DARE YOU YOU COWARD.

And you know??? You know what really gets to me?? You know what really cooks my noodle?? Besides the "I forgive you"???

Aziraphale's face journey in the elevator. How it lands, at the end, on a horrific smile. Bless Michael's acting skills cuz that is a horrible smile.

And Crowley just feels nothing. Completely broken. Like all of us.

I get it. I GET THE PRIDE AND PREJUDICE PARALLELS. @sycophantastic pointed it out, that it's a 3-act structure, and I know this is the "dark night of the soul" portion of the hero's journey. I GET. IT. I still hate it.

It took me forever to get to sleep last night. Like an hour and a half. Cuz my brain wouldn't shut up. And I dreamt about them. And it was awful and sad. And NOW we're going to a friend's house to watch the whole thing with her for the first time. Again. I have to endure this again.

I need QUITE EXTRAORDINARY AMOUNTS OF ALCOHOL.

#good omens spoilers #good omens season 2 #good omens #GOs2 #gos2 spoilers #gos2e6

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aitsuheart · 10 months ago

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i have this head canon for kh4 and have 0 ppl to talk to abt it ( maybe ill make a blog or write a fic ) but like riku saves sora from quadratum and since we all love angst, a part of riku saving him and bringing him back is sacrificing the memories sora has of him - so sora would come out with no memory or no relationship with Riku, but Rikus willing to do it to save sora. To do said saving Riku will have to sacrifice his body in some way ( not like lose a limb sacrifice but his body would be shattered in some way - idk i really like the idea of riku with mega scars and those scars representing his undying love for sora ) and they come out of quadratum passed tf out, everyone rushes to barely save rikus life and sora wakes up with 0 memory of him. Kairi's pissed, the king is pissed - EVERYONE is pissed like Riku cmon how could you do that to yourself and to sora but whatev , time passes on and the MoM shows up to fuck some shit up and Sora goes on another adventure ( basically what kh4 would be - travelling to worlds collecting soras lost memories ) while Riku and Mr Michael Mouse try to find a way to beat MoM. At the end of this process Sora meets up with the Radiant Garden group and Aerith - through her super magic powers - is somehow able to give Sora his memories of riku back bc Soras heart will never be complete without Riku ( def with the help of kairi - like having your past love find your true love kind of deal? ) and Soras like "Where is he, where is Riku?" and in their adventures trying to find Riku they figure out through his lineage that hes either the King of Light or the King of Kingdom Hearts. Anyway, Riku and Mickey are facing off against MoM and Riku is , stupidly, abt to sacrifice his life again for like.....everyone.....and Sora shows up like NO SIR MISTER MAN basically stops him yelling "HES THE KING, HES THE KING PROTECT HIM" and basically saves Riku like a knight in shining armor protecting his king. they realize their love for each other, destroy MOM ( through the power of true love ) and live together happily ever after. thoughts?

I definitely have some thoughts and I do love a good angst and this has it, Riku saving Sora requires him to lose all his memories of him

It's not like they already were missing in this case before he had them but by saving Sora he loses all the ones of him

And Riku would because that's how he is, he is selfishly selfless for Sora and would do anything to save him even if it means dying or risking his own happiness like in kh3 sacrifice and kh2 becoming Ansem's form to awaken Sora

Him being on the verge of death is so great to me and the others are clearly upset since he's not thinking about his own worth again and would do anything for Sora. All his scars being all the times he sacrificed for him like even perhaps in previous games such as when he took a blow during that Xemnas fight.

Sora traveling around collecting his memories of Riku sounds interesting and there's so many possibilities. There could be more parallels of what happened between them through Disney worlds as well.

Also I like the idea of Kairi and Sora past relationship mention and that she can help Sora remember Riku. Kairi probably knows what's up with them and Sora probably has no idea at this point and maybe help him realize through gaining some memories.

Riku is of course always sacrificing himself and just sees his life as not really valuable but with knowledge that he's this king Sora saves him.

Love a good knight in shining armor saving a princess, being tied to them once again. Riku needs saving, Sora is the knight rescuing him from darkness and in this case sacrificing himself.

Riku being king of light perhaps relates to royal bloodline theory?

Their love for each other saving everything would definitely something that could happen in the games since friendship and love seems to play an importance.

Some of my first thought after reading for the first time was this is really good and so terrible at what Riku did to save Sora.

I think this has some fun and interesting potential. I'll be curious if you ever make a blog or even write a fanfic about it.

#aitsu heart asks #anon ask #kingdom Hearts #kh4 #post Quadratum #soriku #long post #I actually really liked this #I remember my first read through i was thinking WHAT that's so terrible i love that in regards to Sora losing his memories #and Riku sacrificing himself with him being on the brink of death #everyone getting mad at him as they should he's needs to understand his life is important too and Sora wouldn't want him to just #throw it away easily for him and to take care of himself too #headcanon #been meaning to respond for awhile but it was long and tumblr been glitching with asks lately where you can't edit them in drafts #so i wrote this all in one go #if anon ever makes something relating to this idea though #it has really good potential #scheduled post

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stainedglassandpigs · 3 months ago

Text

(Recently graduated high school so I’m posting this cause I don’t wanna keep any of my highschool works)

Around 7k

Thinking of lex and Clark relationship I wanted to write the story to that point but I prolly won’t. I was a smallville fan growing up so this loss of a close friend was something I became more interested in recently. I wanted to kinda explore how y/n and Clark’s friendship with their close friend would mirror that. kinda ig bring them closer together. And also touch on the fact that even when you lose a friend in a not so nice way your heart still loves them in some shape or another. although I don’t have the same homoerotic element to my friendship fall out I can see how Clark and lex would, and maybe that would also further explain why Lex goes on to “have” a bby with Clark. The idea will prolly never fully be fleshed out tho

Also would love to hear ppls thoughts I know it’s not very good but I had fun working out how to express Clark’s personality

The heavy metal of your car door had just closed when the speakers began going off alerting you to a phone call.

Barely out of school for two minutes and there was already something ready to ruin your mood further.

Quickly you slide the seat belt over your body, clicking the buckle into place, then pressed answer on the small buttons of the radio.

Thankfully the person on the other end hadn't realized the call had been picked up so it gave you a moment to fill and empty your lungs of air.

Today had been long

It was not necessarily the work causing the weight on your shoulders. For once you wished it was because of the assignments, school work was indeed exhausting, that was something you’ve felt before.

Something you could deal with.

But no, it was senior year and Christmas break was just around the corner teachers barely gave yall work in the first place there was only so much that was needed to be taught to people who had been through the same pony race for three years now especially because it was now a few days before a break meaning the workload was nonexistent.

No, what made the day difficult and what was causing your eyes to well up and throat dry was a world shattering realization.

She's avoiding me.

One of your best friends had not been at lunch the past few days.

At the surface of your mind you just chalked it up to her being busy, she was taking health based classes and even their seniors didn't get out of the constant assignments.

And yeah she hadn’t been answering your text but she got really sleepy after school she must have not seen them,

Just yesterday when you got home and into your bed you fell asleep for the whole afternoon.

No matter what your thoughts held beneath the surface you tried to keep the negative ideations at bay,

She was one of your best friends that meant something,

Out of all the people in the world, she deserves the benefit of doubt most.

You could get over It having been a whole week since you had really seen her because there was of course a reason to justify this… she just didn’t have time to tell you is all. At least that's what you told yourself all day.

And yeah it was a bit ear reddening that you had to tell people they couldn't sit at your clearly empty table.

You'd say with as much certainty as a person who could see the future “she’ll be here soon” only to proceed to have lunch all by yourself.

But she was one of your best friends you adored her, you just weren't seeing the whole picture.

That was the only thought that kept you from losing your mind all week.

Everyone was giggling talking about Christmas plans during lunch passing gifts between each,

these little gifts to each other to physically show their emotions, their care, their love for one another. Taking this time during lunch just in case they didn't catch each other before break because it meant something to see each other.

They had to, because friends made time for each other.

And yet here you were watching derry girls with headphones in for the second time while picking at a launch you shitly made in the morning, uncaring of what you ate but knowing you had to keep yourself alive with food.

Because of your particular school lunch schedule, lunch was split it into two days, you didn't todays lunch with any of your other friends,

which was salt on the wound. Of course you knew you had friends, shit some would come by this lunch period when they could but that didn’t stop your eyes from stinging by the third day when you saw a girl walking by with her same lunch box.

The icing on the cake truly was when you had left your lunch table early that day,

fed up with looking like a kicked cat and decided to walk around the halls.

The school was large so wandering around the building before your last period started sounded like a better idea than taking up space in the lunchroom.

At least other best friends could make use of something that was once y'all's.

Eating as you walked, having no real direction you let your legs carry you wherever, staring at everything on the walls and into the classrooms like it was a museum while you aimlessly drifted.

After a few songs played through your headphones, you decided to stop at the trophy wall for a movement wanting to look at all the awards.

You knew that you had earned an award behind the glass, like you were just as great as all those other students.

You proved yourself,

there was proof you were not something to be ignored.

Yet as you took in the sight of the medal sitting under gold light presented as something glorious all you could feel was… silly.

The person who won that award had her by their side,

had her there keeping them company as they painted.

While looking at the wall you saw so many faces you had grown to call close friends,

it made you feel stupid.

Here laid physical reminders that you had people in your life outside of her and still you were moping about a problem that probably doesn't even exist.

She was just busy, maybe your mom was right and you should download a period tracker app.

That was it you rationalized,

you were close to your period and the smallest difference in routine was just making you emotional.

She was busy and you are being dramatic.

Taking another bite of your food you shift over to see more of the trophy case.

Your eyes landed on a face that erupted another wave of irrational emotions that you wished would just fuck off.

He looked as he always did,

radiant.

He was in his football uniform the team was taking a group picture because they had won the homecoming game,

the farm boy was the one to get the ball most ways down the field then passing it off to Whitney leading to the final goal.

Sometimes,

most times,

you forget how good of a player Clark was.

To you he was just your friend who you met in art class and accidentally discovered something one night by chance that forced you to skip a million steps on the getting to know someone mountain causing you to be closer than you ever could have imagined at the beginning of the year.

You were very aware that to everyone else he was the rising star of the football team this year,

whenever Clark would walk with you somewhere there would be a million interruptions to yall’s conversation by any and everyone.

Looking over another picture with him in it there were many details you noticed about his picture,

you always noticed too many things about him,

things you tried to ignore every time he was in the same room as you.

It did not matter that his smile quirked showing his canines in a way that did not drive you mad or that his eyes were so patient and full, because none of it mattered or was relevant enough to think about at all…

No, anyone else in a room with him would care, not you.

Clark Kent was just your friend.

And of course there was the subject of beautiful beautiful Lana.

Whether he would admit that they were a thing, he and Lana looked like celestial flowers that blossomed in the light of each other's presence.

In the part of your mind you kept locked up in a shabby shed with a broken light was a fun little game you called unceremoniously “stuff it all in the shed and ignore it”.

Many of those thoughts had to do with Clark in one way or another.

But the one that you kept deep inside of the shed, the one forcing its way out as you look upon a photo of the cheerleaders and football players together and seeing them paired up like two halves of a puzzle that fit perfectly together. Was how much you want it to be you.

Love came to you easily, your family was big.

Being loved and loving was not new to you, it was practically second nature.

What wasn't was romantic love.

It was something you never could fully wrap your brain around.

You yearned, crushed, and went crazy like everyone else.

But true romantic love scared the living shit out of you.

Your whole life that love only brought you pain, your parents divorce was nasty.

You chose a long time ago that there was nothing that romantic love could offer you that was worth going through what they did.

If you never let love turn you fool you would never repeat the horrific mistakes your parents made the day they met.

They were gilded lilys. Clark and Lana, Lana and Clark.

Their perfection together drove you crazy,

not most days though there was some semblance of sanity kicking around your brain.

These two people who could love each other without fear, you wanted to see their relationship up in flames.

They weren't even together and you wanted to take whatever they had and stomp it into the ground.

You loved Clark, and Lana, they were amazing people,

lilies in their beautiful green house basking in the sun while you were outside hoping to just catch a glimpse of their beauty, maybe even send a hurricane to ruin it.

And you knew jealousy was a normal emotion, envy, hate all of it.

Emotions are fickle and you had to be up at 7 in the morning everyday and deal with high school math.

Being a little bitchy in your mind was not the end of the world.

Or at least that’s what you told yourself, bc at the end of the day all it felt like, and was, was just you, jealous and bitter.

The thought occurred to you for the second time in the last 20 minutes about getting a period tracker when your mood changed instantly the moment your friend's face came around the corner walking, beaming a bright smile at you in the hall.

Or maybe you just should not be left with your thoughts when the only thing keeping your body going was 3 hours of sleep and a crappy ham and cheese sandwich.

Abandoning your headphones to better hear your friend you two naturally begin walking together, it was nice being with another.

It was a reprieve talking with her about weekend plans, assignments, and the random happenings of the school.

The subject of The Torch got brought up, its recent issues covering the particle accelerator in Central City last month you two also talked about going to the movies this weekend Beetlejuice was back in theaters for a special screening.

And maybe what happened next was a gift,

someone above putting you out of your misery leading you two down that hall when you did.

The timing when that door opened perfectly as you walked by to show you something that broke your heart harder than any high school fail crush ever could.

It was her,

sitting beautifully silhouetted by the light coming from an overhead window laughing like a princess out of a movie.

She was happy

Without me

Away from me

Oblivious to me

Feeling your heart shatter into a million pieces in a hallway that students casually glide by unaware was humiliating in a way that bore into your soul.

And you hadn’t told anyone what you were suspecting in fear that saying it aloud would make it true.

Now as you move your legs manually making sure to breathe in and out while your friend carries the conversation none the wiser it all felt so inevitable in an evil and sick way.

It was always hard for you to understand why people fell apart over romantic love.

Couldn’t they see it was always going to end badly?

It was just plain stupid replaceable love.

There were a million people in this world, it wasn't a perhaps that you would get over the heartbreak it was a certainty, so why let it hurt you so much ?

Granted growing up your examples were lackluster and didn’t get better when ppl your age started dating.

It was a perplexing thing, not understanding they’re love.

Until now,

You didn't want someone else to fill her spot, because in the moment you knew it was over.

She never would need to say it, but it was over.

It was over and you wanted to carve out the part of your heart that grew for her and send it to her in a box.

Because no matter the reasons you would surely find out later down the line for her leaving you, you knew in that moment when you glanced in that room and saw her that she would always own landscape in your heart.

It was hers and hers alone.

The world may not have burst apart from its core but a part of your soul did.

Like the foundation your remember building perfectly seemingly became bone and dirt under you.

Yet the bell still came and class still started.

Crying seemed in order though your movements followed that of a student having a boring day going through the motions.

The ringing in your ears served as your music as you worked and the numbness in your fingers added blur to the seconds and minutes before the final bell of your school day.

Hollowness

The bell

Walking

The car

Phone ring.

Now you sit waiting for the person on the other end to say something,

you didn’t even care to speak first or at all.

Silence was never something you found to be comforting, and this was true now the discomfort of being in your still car waiting for your caller to speak was as it always was,

nauseating.

Yet it was something other than that empty feeling that had clung to you since you saw her in that seat, worlds away from the ones you once sat together.

That queasy feeling of still air and silence brought was something you could face,

something you could live in and grasp, not the other thing.

The other thing took your senses and heart and squeezed it till calling it a heart would be a betrayal of the english language,

because all it was was unprecedented sadness in the heart of a naive youth.

Eros was a funny person you mused while staring off unfocused into the distance.

You thought you could shield your heart from his cruel game, and yet he still found a way and won.

A sick bastard you had to respect, you were a fool to think you could escape love's devastations.

“Yn ?-“

your name is called, pulling you out of your mind followed by a corus of deep coughs filling the speakers in the car.

It was Clark’s voice,

the daze your mind had been in the past hour lifted and you realized Clark had not been at school all day or in your last period art class.

Your favorite class and you didn't even know your friend wasn’t there.

That realization only served to make you deeply sad again.

Wiping at your eyes you answer,

“Clark, you sound awful, are you sick dude. I thought you were, you know like… immune to human sickness?” You say the words while rubbing at your eye trying to physically will yourself to the now and not her.

“Member’how I told you bout those green rocks?”

You could hear his little sniffle over the phone, unfortunately even now you found it cute.

The heart was funny that way, always ready for another round of insanity.

Putting the key in the ignition and starting it you reply to him

“ Yeah that stuff that was left behind from your ship's impact right. Been messing with everything in town since, Chloe is always on about it, she even managed to convince the principal to let her write bout it in the torch— Wait Clark don't tell me you went looking for that shit”

Pulling the car out of park you hold your foot over the brakes.

Lately Clark had been wanting to know more about where he came from, which was well within reason, what wasn't was getting himself hurt for information that had clearly been hidden.

You didn't think he was stupid enough to go hunting for something that was one of the few things to be able to actually hurt his body, you were beginning to think Lex was involved somehow.

Those two idoits were always galavanting around doing something that would warrant yelling at by you.

You hear him groan for a moment before answering “No-”

the gross sound of a nose being blown is heard through the speaker

“One of the boys on the team was sick last practice and he got everyone on the team sick. But I think he was exposed to the meteor so when it got me it was able to actually get me sick. I felt nauseous yesterday and dad took me home. I know you just got out of school and I'm sorry I have to ask but you're the only person I can ask or even trust enough to help mom and dad had to leave town today for that meeting in metropolis about getting a new cow.” you could hear him shifting around restlessly

Your lip twitches slightly, you were fighting the smug feeling hearing Clark say you were the only one he could rely on, only one he could trust right now.

Not Pete, not Chole, not lana, you

“Aw you poor baby, do you want me to come and make you stew and nurse you back to health like a sick baby”

you said it inna sort of mocking voice you couldn't help it he sounded so sick and whiny it was so far off from what Clark was usually like it was even a tab funny it brought out the inner sibling in you.

There was a beat of silence and immediately you thought that you may have actually hurt the personified sunbeams feelings causing you to feel like an asshole,

maybe now was not the time to do the usually sarcastic back and forth.

“(nickname for yn) will you please make me soup”

He said it with so much sincerity and pleading.

Your heart shattered into a million pieces again but this time it was from how tender this moment was.

Here was your 6 foot something basically demigod like friend candidly, vulnerablly, asking you to cook for him.

Picking your foot off the breaks you compose yourself while you reverse the car out of your parking spot thinking of a proper answer so you could give him the sincerity he deserved in that moment.

He wasn't used to feeling like this, it must have truly been a lot for him.

Right now you were both hurting, currently you weren’t in the mood for a lot and for different reasons and so was Clark.

Nobody could get her back for you but you sure could make some soup.

“Of course Clark”

“Thank you (nickname for yn)” You heard him sniffle but you couldn't tell if it was from his nose or because he was actually teary eyed.

“I'll be there as soon as possible okay i just need to stop by the store and pick some things up okay, you just rest i remember where the spare key to the front door so don't worry about it just rest up dude, imma let you go now m’kay”

hanging the phone up after a beat you connect the aux and start thinking of what you'll need to get.

Like always you were thankful for Clark, he had unknowingly given you something to think about to take your mind off of her.

—

You are practically a blur in the grocery store,

grabbing everything you for the soup doing your best not to waste anymore time then needed.

You had had dinner at Clarks plenty of times before since you two became closer, crush aside, you were his friend being at his house was commonplace.

So you had a vague understanding of what would be in his kitchen.

It was around 3 when you got out of school because of your off period, nobody was out on the roads either still in school, work, or engaged in mundane tasks which ment check out had no line saving you even more time.

In total you had two bags filled with veggies, one or two seasonings your household loved that his didn't have,a small chicken, and some medicine.

Unfortunately Clark did live on a farm so his house was a bit out of the way from town,

Smallvillie was as its namesake implied,

a small town place meaning other than the main part of town most things were a comfortable distance from each other.

The Kents had a nice sized farm which meant they would be even further away from everything.

On the plus side, that meant the roads that lead to their house were the back roads, which allowed for kicking up the speed a little.

In all it took you about 15 minutes to get to Clarks house, on the drive over you went over the steps of how your mother always made chicken soup.

Clean and cut the veggies, saute with a bit of seasonings just enough to bring out some flavor, add water, clean and dismember the chicken, add it, let simmer, seasoning, taste, adjust.

You knew you had reached the Kent farm when a large iron fence with the family’s name spelled beautifully in cursive with two massive oak trees on either side of the metal work gate came into view.

Getting out of your car just before the gate you walk up and push the gate open, going back to the car and driving through, then doing the same but closing the gate once you were in the property.

They had yet to switch to electrical, favoring less Tec as possible on the farm.

Traveling up a gravel road that was about half a mile led you to the large two story yellow abode which had housed your sick friend.

The Kents were a pretty old family to Smallville,

once while Clark and you were walking around the farm he told you his great grandparents were the original people to build the home, making it at least a hundred years old.

Parking, with haste to your movements you grab the grocery bags and head up the porch steps to find a large colorful mosaic flower pot filled with daisies and sunflowers next to the door.

You knew that placed in the back area of the flowers was a small box holding a spare key to the door.

Setting down your groceries next to the door you crouch down and lightly feel around the stems for a familiar wood texture, sure enough after patting around the tips of your fingers brushed against the edge of a hard surface.

Delcatling taking the box out of the flowers like a claw machine doing your best to avoid the carefully taken care of flowers to get your prize.

Opening the box you get a flash or a memory when you look at a swinging woodwork bench on the wraparound porch.

It was last summer,

the heat had become unbearable so you and a group of friends all had agreed it would be a lake day,

one of your brothers had dropped you off at clarks.

You had gotten there an hour early then planned because your brother would be busy any other time and you didn't want to make anyone go out their way to come get you since you all lived on odd ends of the town.

An older man was watering the plants talking with a woman who looked to be the same age as him about what to have for dinner,

it was a beautiful sight.

Two people so deeply in love idly chatting away a peaceful day.

At the time you had not really known Clark that well, it would be your first real time hanging out with him outside of school,

so going up to his house all by yourself had made you extremely nervous.

And maybe the two seasoned individuals before you could feel it,

the anxiety was oozing off you as you tried to act as naturally as possible.

You smiled a bit remembering how tightly you gripped the strap of your bag unsure of what to say to the two love birds.

You weren't much of an introvert but for some reason you couldn't find any words to offer to the parents in front of you.

“You must be Clark's friend y/n right sweetie” The woman you would later learn name was Martha said giving you the most loving smile to ever grace this side of the country.

She gestured for you to sit next to her on a wood swinging bench.

As you did the older gentleman spoke.

“Clarks told us so much about you-”

you had thought he got you mixed up with another of clarks friend.

Clark mentioning you?

You two were friends, yes, he was basically the easiest person to get along with in the whole school, but enough for you to mention you to his parents ?

No way.

You were ready to write it off as parents mixing their kids' friends up when he said something that solidified it was indeed you he was referring to.

“he mentioned you loved art, even showed us a picture of yours, you’ve got an impressive talent their young lady. I was a bit of an artist in my day too, maybe one day I can show you” He chuckled warmly,

after hearing how kind they both were it was like a damn had been let loose.

It led to the three of you engaged in an energetic conversation about art and the farm.

You learned much, their names being one, and many small tibets about Clark.

Like how when he was 9 he would try and sleep in the barn to get closer to his favorite cow Aurora, she was a curly cow, Clark and her would walk around the farm for hours while they talked.

Mrs Martha would swear that she could hear Aurora mooing back at Clark at times.

You told them of one of your earliest memories of painting and how you loved being able to capture mundane moments with vibrant colors.

It was probably 10 minutes before Clark came bursting through the front door.

The door swung open and out popped the star boy,

that's what his parents called him,

“Im so sorry yn-” he stopped talking when he saw how you were helping Mr. Jonathan prune some of the rose bushes in the front while Mrs Martha was knitting and yall were all laughing about something Mr. Jonathan had said.

We all looked up at him, you gave him a smile and wave.

“Am I interrupting something?” He said with a large smile glancing around at all of us.

“No y/n was just joining us for a conversation while she waited for you and offered to help with the roses. She's such a sweet girl Clark why don't you bring her around more, we could use more company around the farm, you're always busy” Mrs. Martha says as she places her knitting down to look over her son.

You think it's just because his mothers teasing him but you can see a bit of a red form in Clarks face.

“Mom y/n busy I think she has other things to do than chat with you and dad” He says walking to where you and his father were.

You had been on your knees snipping at the bushes dead leaves while Mr. Kent did the ones towards the top, he even gave you a little cushion to rest your knees.

You guys had really worked out a whole routine in your small time together.

Clark extended his hand to you,

mouthing an “im sorry”.

You let out a small laugh as he helped you up.

He was delicate with you but you could tell helping you up was no exertersion on his part.

“It was nice meeting you two Mrs. Martha, Mr. Jonathan.”

You took off the gloves Mr. Jonathan gave you to work and set them down on the cushion, picking it all up

“Is there somewhere i can put this for you Mr. Jonathan?” you ask, looking at the kind man.

He simply laughs and tells you to not worry about it and let Clark handle it,

you turned around before you could see it fully but Jonathan had glanced between you and Clark before looking at Martha.

They both shared a conversation that you and clark were completely oblivious too.

Placing the bundle in Clarks hands, you continue talking with his parents as he put away your tools.

“ Which lake are yall going to?” Mrs. Martha says

“Lake Paradigm, Chole heard there were space rocks in the water were all gonna go check it out with her, it will just be us there so that's cool” You say remembering the photo Chole sent to yalls group chat.

Before anyone could say more, Clark had come back

“alright y/n ready to go inside? I know it's pretty hot out here, sorry to steal your gardening mate guys”

“Well good thing y/n agreed to have dinner with us later tonight right y/n so you may take her” Mrs. Martha says beaming at you.

You look at her you don’t remember agreeing to that but was happy to see the Kents liked you enough to invite you to dinner,

then your eyes glance over to Clark seeing slight confusion in his face.

There is a deep drop in your stomach when you think he does not want you at his house any longer than needed,

your ears begin heating up.

Had you overstepped by talking with his parents so casually ?

Feeling embarrassed you look at your hands and begin to open your mouth ready to spew some excuse why you couldn't attend later

“Sor-’

“I would love that, mom makes a killer Meatloaf”

You turn your head up to see Clark with his lips turned up in a simile looking at you.

It took you a second to process what he said but once you did you mouth began mirroring his smile, it made you feel giddy.

For a quick eternity it was just you and Clark looking into each other's eyes smiling.

in that moment with the summer sun bright behind yall and a fresh breeze passing by, you felt on top of the world.

You were the first to look away, staring directly into the sun isn't good for you.

“Todays turning out wonderfully Honey, we have company to dinner, and our son complimenting my cooking for once” Martha let out a chuckle

“Mom i’ve complemented your food before” Clark says with a light eye roll

His mother just juts her eyebrow at him and it was fast but you seen her eyes flicker to you “Sure”

“We're gonna head in now if that's okay with you guys” Clark gestures for me to walk ahead of him.

“Hold on, yn, here”

Mr. Jonathan steps back from his bush and looks over it for a minute,

you see his eyes lock to a rose that looked perfectly in bloom.

Its vibrant red petals just freshly blossomed.

He goes up to it and cuts it off the branch and makes quick work of removing the thorns with his shears.

Inspecting the flower one more time before walking up to you.

“It's a thankful, for keeping our old bones company and helping me out today”

He extends his hand so you can take hold of the gift.

You receive the flower and say your thanks.

In that instance you could see his son in him.

You knew Clark was adopted but you always felt that the powers at be melded loved ones into each other and as you looked at Jonathan now you felt like it was like looking at a picture of Clark.

Kind hearted, they shared it in their smiles and eyes. Something you could see seeped deep into their souls.

As Clark led you through his house all you could pay attention to was the rose.

Your mother was a gardener as well, you knew how much love it took to care for those stubborn flora.

The gorgeous rose would definitely be pressed into a book later.

You were brought back to the present day by the sound of one of the grocery bags tipping over spilling out an onion.

Picking up the veggies and placing it in the bag you give the porch a last glance as you put the key into the lock.

Opening the door you were met with the rustic interior of the home,

tons of wood accents with the walls matching the yellow from the outside.

“ Clark” you called out there was no tv or music playing in the living room so you weren't sure if he was downstairs or upstairs.

Walking a few more steps in the room before Clarks hoarse voice rang out the cold adding a sonorous tone to his already deep inflection.

Following the sound came from to the couch where he was bundled up with an icepack on his head his eyes closed.

“Hey there star boy, how you feeling ?”

You squat down in front of him with the hand free of groceries and move some hair off his face.

Delicately you bring your hand to his cheek, you wanted to gauge how hot he was feeling.

The skin under your hand felt like it was just in a hot sauna, with your hand still on his face he spoke

“human”

You let out a small laugh, if only he knew much you shared his feelings.

“I'm gonna go start cooking okay, I bought some medicine. You think you're up to taking some now? Or do you wanna wait till there's something to eat with it?”

Removing your hand from his face to stand you start to ruffle around the plastic bag for the box containing cold reliever.

As if triggered by the removal of your hand Clark slowly opened his eyes and sat up placing the ice pack in his lap.

Now that he was upright the space between y'all felt even smaller because you had gotten so close to feel his temperature earlier.

He was staring up at you though his eyelashes watching you read the medicine box.

You could see him watching you but chose to keep your eyes laser focused on the box.

Reading the directions out loud

“ Take medicine with or without food as long as your stomach is not weak. It said you can take 30 mL everyday till you feel better. Okay easy enough”

Lowering the box a little you look at him.

He had a blanket over his head with a little pout decorating his features.

Taking a small breath in, he was so beautiful it was annoying.

It was a quiet moment as he thought about the instructions.

You could see his mind settle on an answer

“Whatever you think is best, yn, i don't take medicine often.” You gave a small nod then looked at the box again.

“After dinner it is. I'll get started on that then, i basically know where everything is so you can stay sitting down still.” setting the box back into the grocery bag you make your way to the kitchen.

To your surprise you can hear Clark get up to follow you, you go to the sink and he goes to the closest chair to the sink.

You don't say anything,

only give him a curious tilt of your head as you grip the faucet turning it the opposite way causing water to pour out.

“Wanted to watch you cook” He answered your wordless question.

“Mmh” was the only reply you gave, washing off all the fresh produce, making sure everything was thoroughly cleaned so as to not risk getting him sick in any other way.

You weren't sure what could get him sick right now so you didnt wanna chance it even a little.

As he said he was watching your every move, you didn’t mind much but your ears for a reason totally unconnected had begun to heat up.

“Clark where do y'all keep the cutting boards ?”

At least him being in the kitchen with you ment asking locational questions was a lot easier.

“The cupboard next to the stove on the bottom right… Other side, there you go.”

A small chuckled left him when you went to the wrong side at first, at least his spirits were lifting a bit.

You were most ways through chopping up your first vegetable when Clark had started playing a song on your phone.

Me and You by Brenton Wood,

immediately you knew which playlist he had picked out.

You guys had made one together one day when doing homework together, Clark had basically become your math tutor, and you his history.

He was a quick learner when it came to everything so you guys always sped through the work until it came time for you to do math work.

You glided through the kitchen taking out everything you would need, trying to keep the dishes to a minimum as you worked.

You were impressed with how much you remembered about his kitchen only needing to ask where they kept the garlic.

Clark would ask you questions on why you would do certain things, he was never trying to get better at cooking so it all perplexed him.

You answered, babbling away about the different techniques different members of your family taught you in the kitchen the conversation would eventually always fizz off into a content break, allowing the sound of music, cooking, and general kitchen chaos to fill in.

Having a big family was useful because it meant that most things in life had an anecdote you could recall to help guide you.

Talking with Clark was fun, easy, natural as blinking even.

But he was sick right now so you tried to carry as much of the conversation as possible when a conversation would pick up again every now and then.

he seemed fine with this and if neither of you had anything to say the music would fill in

It was all very domestic.

What made it all the better was it being a Friday night meaning there was no rush, you had no real responsibilities this weekend especially because christmas break started today.

The veggies were all done sitting nicely in the pot you chose heating up with some butter and seasoning as you moved onto the chicken.

You dreaded this part most,

raw meat made you want to throw up the way it was so germy and textured.

Unfortunately this was chicken soup so it was unavoidable,

taking a deep breath you picked up a portion and started slicing through tendons removing the legs, breasts, then finally the wings.

Once you had the pieces divided up you worked at getting the bones separated.

The bones were important to delivering the nutrients into the broth.

Your dad had taught you what to put in broths when you were sick; ginger, thyme, bones, lemon, and the smallest dash of cinnamon.

You made sure to put a good helping of all of it in the soup, one way or another Clark would be better.

You let the veggies cook a while, cleaning up and conversating more with Clark in the mean time.

Now it was time to add the bones into the pot, the vegetables had begun filling the kitchen with an aromatic smell that told you everything was going as it should.

You wanted to hold off on adding the meat till the last few minutes so it wouldn't be to tuff, for now the veggies and bones were enough.

You let them cook together for a handful of minutes more before adding some water.

Cleaning everything up then putting a lid on the pot you had nothing to do for a good 20 minutes.

Leaning back on the counter you look at Clark for the first time in a while too focused on making his soup to give him much attention other than chatting.

He was still contently staring at you as if you were the most entertaining food program in the world.

“How's your throat feeling ?”

you had bought some tea when you were at the store, anticipating his answer so now all you waited for was confirmation to grab the kettle out and make some tea for the both of you.

“Soar but I'll live. ''

He gave a small smile, you mirror him then turn back to the counter, hands going to the bag to grab out the tea box.

Lifting the box out of the bag giveing a light shake so he can acknowledge it.

“Oolong, mom says it's the best for when you're sick”

Now you're walking over to where they keep the kettle, taking hold of it and bringing it to the faucet to fill it and finally to the oven.

Casually you turn the knob on the oven to about half way and let it heat up.

“You really thought of everything huh yn”

“You would do the same for me Star boy” You walk over to Clark, sitting in the chair next to him. You let your head fall to rest on his shoulder and he rests atop yours while you wait.

“You've been quiet today” He says in a bit of a quiet tone.

“Didn’t want to make you talk alot” You lie

He's quiet for a moment, you both watch as steam rises from the pot circling up until it disappears.

“Yn”

“Clark”

He lifts his head off yours and turns his body to you fully

“Yn” Clark takes your hand in his, and starts tracing your knuckles with his thumb.

His hand is always warm but now that he's sick it's swelteringly hot and your senses are only heightened with his full attention on you.

“My hearing is not what it is when I'm fine, but I could hear your heart when you picked up the phone.”

“I told you not to do that Clark”

You look into his eyes now eyebrows pinched together slightly

“It was hard to block out (nick name for yn)”

he flips your hand and begins tracking the lines on your palm.

It's now you fully turning to face him, causing your knees to touch together slightly.

You reach up and move a strand of hair away from his eyes.

“Another day star boy” You can tell by his face he doesn’t like the answer, but he can tell by your face not to push it.

Instead he holds his hand up between you two and lifts his pinky.

“Promise, yn”

You join your pinkies together

“Promise” Your voice cracked a little but you smiled regardless hoping he can understand through the vagueness what you're trying to say.

Like always Clark is not the first to break away even when the tea kettle starts going off he makes no move to acknowledge it only looking at you.

You let your pinky go but stayed looking at him for a moment longer searching his face for nothing in particular.

Getting up you walk over to the stock and move the kettle onto a burner that is not on and switch off the heat.

Finding the cupboard with the mugs you take out two large mugs.

“Two scoops of sugar no milk”

You say it more as a reminder to yourself, you know how he likes his tea.

“Mmh, teaspoon of honey, milk and vanilla” You wander around the kitchen making up y'all's cups

“Impeccable memory as always Clark”

Finishing up you set his cup down in front of him,

taking yours with you as you check the pot sipping on it as you do.

Lifting the lid you see the water has come to a rolling boil while some of the veggies has begun to become mushy as well as translucent.

Placing your cup down you pick a wood spoon and give the pot a good stir.

“ 10 more minutes then I'll add the chicken, after that it should be done pretty soon”

#clark kent #dc comic #dc #dc universe #superman x reader #superman #smallville #clark kent x reader

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