#sorry my patience is very thin the past months and I am so damn tired of stupid discourse

[scarefox]

The way some people straight up deny soft criticism of the BL industry (stuff that isn't even a secret if you don't close your eyes and ears!!!) Criticism by literally LGBTq people working in said BL industry in Thailand..... basically one of the only ones who's voice are most valid here in this discourse. That's not hypocrism of people working in the industry to open their mouth! That's called self-awareness and using this genre to convey a message and trying to fix issues. This is about Step by Step and Lovely Writer atm. But those are not the only dramas who brought up some critic but somehow people get salty now about that little poke from SbS? Did you sleep the past 3 years?? And it's not a coincident that it's always the same topics certain BL dramas brought up!

I feel like some people here don't get that you can criticize your own work place, your own industry, your own country WITHOUT hating, shaming or demonizing it completely! Yall need stop this black & white thinking and the constant urge to feel personally attacked by something like this...

Especially the message of LW (the same people who make SbS now) was that there is nothing wrong about loving BL stories and they do like producing them. BUT that there are some things in the industry that are bad and harmful NOT ALL OF IT, SOME THINGS! Like the treatment of actors and certain topics by companies and producers. And the main theme of LW: the toxic overstepping and overcontrolling shipping culture that can (and did) destroy real life relationships / friendships under the weight of the pretend relationship (pretend as in they are not dating for real (everyone knows that! or should know that! this is also not even a secret if you watch interviews outside of the fun and couple game shows) at least in most of the cases.... in some rare ones yes, in some very rare cases some actors actually date but they are too afraid to come out due to homophobia and the way the industry & fandom treats those cases (source Dr. Thomas Baudinette who studies the industry as a form of queer asian media and interviewed companies and actors since years... somewhere in this he talks about actor relationships, I can't find the time stamp atm))

ALSO the point about exploiting the LGBTq community is NOT about the fans or LGBTq audience who love these dramas. But about businesses and literal Thailand itself. For using those stories and actors / couples for advertising, for marketing, for tourism even. BUT at the same time some don't care for real life LGBTq issues and rights or the fact that Thailand is still not agreeing on equal marriage (which is not just about them not being able to marry but they get denied a lot of things married couples get. alone the fact that they can't see their partner in the case of an emergency in the hospital because 'they are not family'). In the said SbS scene they were literally discussing which pretend couple has the most fans and how they could use their fandom and fan clubs to gain profit. Don't you guys get how fucking frustrating this is for the LGBTq people and allies who work in the BL industry, to get paraded in front of the camera for money and image but still don't get treated equally??? THAT is what they mean with exploiting.... And it's a lot of producers, writers and some actors who voice those points, not just these few self-aware BL dramas. But doing it through the medium they adress is the best way to reach the right people, to make the right people aware and ask for their support. Since they can't say such things directly (even though they should) unless they want to lose their job, they still like to a degree.

And I am sorry but the opinion of actual thai people who are inside that industry is more valid than some random fan who just doesn't want to understand those things in order to enjoy their shows without feeling bad.... What if I tell you that you can do both and that this is not about shaming you or making you feel guilty (unless you participate in toxic overstepping behavior or are actually LGBTq-phobic, then yes feel guilty)! Acknowledging issues, supporting to fix those issues and still have fun with these dramas and actors.... Those things can and do coexist and nobody said otherwise!!

[mrsmaybankhere]

Lose yourself

this is the fic i was talking about and i’m quite proud of it, soo i hope you liked it as much as i do!!

i was literally crying the whole time so i’m sorry for any mistakes. it’s also huuge, over 3.5 k words so be ready for it💞

enjoy and let me know what you guys think!! love you a lot xx

Televisions didn't announced any storm coming to OBX, but as you drive your Jeep to The Cut you can clearly see clouds begin to form on the now clear blue sky. The heat was barely supportable in the last few days, but a storm or another hurricane is never a good thing. You bite on your lower lip, thinking at your friends who got lost on the ocean and are now declared dead. Today are three months since then and apparently, today is gonna be another storm. But things changed since that day.

Oh God, how much did they change...

You stop the car engine and after you jump out from the car, you take with you the few food purchases you made on your way there. You already know that the boys are out of beer and anything edible. Beside these stupid mushrooms they took a few days ago and tripped on them for almost eight hours.

You push the door of the Chateau using one arm, holding the bags with the other one and the door finally open after a few tries. There was some trash blocking it and you gulp, trying to hide your disappointment as Pope welcomes you in.

"Oy, JJ! [Y/N] is here!"He screams at your boyfriend and you nod, handing him the bags as you follow him into the kitchen. JJ murmured something you didn't understand and a few curse words. You decide to take care of this first.

"What's up?" You casually ask him and you take a look around the kitchen as you place the food and the beer into the initially very empty fridge. Damn, how did they live here?

"Not too much. JJ is rolling a blunt if you're asking."

"You look stoned." You say as you rise your eyebrow, Pope shifting uncomfortable on the kitchen old and stained countertop.

"Well maybe because I just smoked, mom?" He makes it seem like a question and you pull your lips in a line, trying to cover your sigh.

You begin to clean the kitchen, throwing every piece of trash into a big plastic bag with Pope's eyes following every step you make. He's walking on eggshells around you, wondering how much time will take you to finally explode. He expected you to do it quite sooner, but you were nothing but calm and soft towards them. Especially J.

"Kie answered." You hear his voice, now quite raspy and you turn around to look at him. He can see the sparkles of hope in your eyes and he hates to broke it for you.

"What did she said?"

"That she can't see us like she used to. And that her parents are right with whatever shits they said to her about us. That she w-..."

"I think I get it." You feel a pain in your chest at the memories of Kie being here. Of John B and Sarah being alive and you laughing and partying together. Actually being a family. Pope just nods his head, his pain bigger than yours. He didn't just lost three friends, he also lost his girlfriend. Probably his parents too.

"When was the last time you went home? Your mother is worried sick."

Pope's mother called you last night, crying and imploring you to try and talk with him. JJ moved his ass here, leaving his abusive old man and it was for the better, but Pope's parents are good people and they don't deserve all this pain. None of you did deserve it, but you all have it on your shoulders anyway.

"Can't remember." He mutters, avoiding your glare. "Last weekend I think."

"Eight days, Pope? Really?" You rising your voice a little bit, feeling like a mother and that's what exactly you were for them these three horrible months. And that's what Pope wanted so bad to avoid: your disappointed face. "Go home right now or I will kick your ass out. You have ten minutes." You demand with a stern voice and face as you walk out of the kitchen, cleaning the living room and the porch as well. John B's room remained untouched and JJ locked it with a key that he hide it God knows where. "For when he gets back" he said that day and you had a horrible feeling of deja vu.

Now you are sure that a storm is coming as full grey clouds are covering the sky and you even catched a few lightnings. By the time you were down with the cleaning, Pope walks on the porch with a backpack on his shoulder and JJ following right behind him. He's only wearing jeans, his hair a mess and his shark necklace always at his neck.

"What do you mean you leaving? I just rolled the perfect...Trust me, the perfect blunt."

You thought that you get used to something after seeing it for a thousand times, but you didn't get used to the new JJ. The heartbroken and devastated, always wasted JJ. The past three months were a hell for him and he made it even worse for you. You had to adjust to your own grief and you also had his pain on your back, carrying it with you every moment of the day and night. In the first month you couldn't sleep or eat at all as your only concern was JJ. You were scared that he may be doing something stupid or reckless and for most of the times he was. Starting fights for nothing and beating the shit out of everyone who dared to bother him. At first you also thought that Pope was gonna help you, but you were so naive. You were so blind that you didn't saw how Pope changed too, copying JJ's mechanism to numb out the pain: drugs and alcohol. But beside JJ, Pope isn't lying himself that everything is alright. Or that they will come back eventually.

"Baby! Didn't see you there. What are you doin'?" He knews that you were there, but he was too drunk and high to remember it. His arm loosely grabs your shoulders, pulling you to his side for a sloppy kiss. You can't hide your little smile because when you two kiss, you feel like your JJ is still there and times are happy again. And then when he pulls from your kiss, you have to face the cruel reality again.

"I was cleaning. The Chateau never looked this dirty before." You didn't realize it, but JJ's face fell at your words. You watch him walking away from you barefoot on the porch's floor, leaning against the supporting pillars. He turns with his back at you and Pope, lighting up the blunt and also speaking. You can see how tense his back is.

"We don't mind. We are living here..." He points a finger to Pope and himself. "Not you, [Y/N]. So you can't have a opinion."

"Pope is not living here."

"I have to head home, JJ. A storm is coming..." Pope pleads, trying to get a approbation from the blond guy.

"Yea, sure. Just go home before the rain star-..."

"Shut up, JJ." You snap at him, giving a hug to Pope before he slowly nods towards JJ who just ignored it. His bloodshot piercing blue eyes are on you, angry at you. You kept your calm for so long and for two months you were nothing but a sweet loving girlfriend to him, always down for sex, parties and even robbery. But your patience reached her limit and since then, you and JJ fight every night. And tonight isn't different.

"What's your problem?" He asks as quickly as you two remained alone.

"I think you know very well since I've told you many times now, but I'm gonna repeat myself: you are my problem, JJ. I'm tired."

You don't think that he's listening to you. He is puffing the blunt, watching outside from the door. The rain finally starts and the weather also get a little cold because of the wind.

"Come on, let's get inside." You speak and you open the door, entering into the living room, JJ following you with a growl and still smoking.

"Can't you just leave me alone for once?"

For three months he had talked to you like this. He was the old JJ only when he was inside of you or you were giving him head. You still be crying yourself to sleep every night because of this, of how powerless you are in this situation. All you can do is sit there and watch him falling apart.

But you had enough of it.

"JJ." You call his name and he turns around to look at you, you quickly grab the blunt from his hand and you throw it on the window. At least you have his attention now. But he's furious.

"What the fuck are you doing? Aren't you tired of all this fighting every damn night? Cause I am." His voice his loud and harsh, sending daggers right into your already broken heart. "You know, I left my father for a reason, [Y/N]."

"Don't...Don't you fucking say that to me! I actually give a fuck about your wasted ass!"

Well, this turned out good. Wonderful.

"Oh yeah? Then why are you acting like you are better than me? Like you are my damn mom or something."

You just wanted a calm conversation, but this is quickly turning into the same screaming match you always have. Both of you throwing the same heavy words, ending up with you crying, but still staying the night in the couch just to make sure he's okay during the night. That's how much of a pathetic you are.

"JJ, please hear me out. Let me talk. I don't wanna fight anymo-..."

"I can see that." He speaks sarcastically and you groan, still trying to keep your calm.

"JJ, look at me..." You cup his face to force him into looking right into your tired but still loving eyes. Even right now you are heartbroken for him, not for you. You gasp with tears already falling on your cheeks, knowing that what you're about to say will broke him down but you're hoping that he will wake up and finally see it for himself. "It's been three months, baby. John B is not coming back."

You can't describe what you saw inside of his eyes; something you never saw before, not in this way. The rage that's fulling his eyes is overwhelming for you and for your thin body as he grabs your shoulders, his fingers dagging into your skin as he's shacking you.

"Watch your mouth, [Y/N]. I'll say this once...And you better get it in your damn little head. Behave or leave for good."

You gulp down the words you had in your mouth, just letting him talk shit to you when you don't deserve any of it. You became his punching bag.

"You know what? Leave. I wanna be alone."

"I-I don't..." You can't talk as you feel anxiety taking control over your mind and body. Yeah, you are tired of this situation, but leaving him for good never was an option for you.

"Leave. I don't want you here. Can't you see that?"

You bite on your lower lip as you can feel how your stupid heart is ripped right from your chest, parts of it shattering your insides. You are still standing on your legs, but inside you feel like you are on your knees, screaming to make this stop. The pain is unbounded.

He turns with his back at you to grab a beer from the fridge; his hands are shacking while he tries to open it and he mutters a "fuck" under his heavy breath. When you finally find your voice again, you speak with a lower voice than what you expected.

"No. I'm sorry, but I'm not leaving you."

His back is tensed and jawline and fists clenched at the sound of your weak voice. You watch his back, not knowing what to expect from him, but you decide to keep talking. You can't make it worse than this.

Or...?

"You are the one who's always there for the ones he care about. I don't know about the others, but for me, JJ...You are my shoulder to cry on, my-...My lifebuoy. I wouldn't be here today if you weren't."

Your crying is uncontrollably at this point, making it really hard to breath properly as you feel like you're drowning in your words. You cover your mouth with your hand, a scream wanting so bad to leave your sore throat.

"So if you want to treat me like shit...If you want to get it all out on me, do it. I will let you, if that makes you feel better. If hurting me makes you feel better...I will let you, Jay. But-...But that won't bring John B and Sarah back. Nothing will bring them back, baby..."

Your voice just crack while speaking and you gulp down, biting your tongue so hard that you can feel the taste of blood in your mouth. JJ slowly turns around to look at you and your heart takes another punch as the sigh of him crying, sobbing uncontrollably with a painful smile on his lips.

"You think I don't know that, [Y/N]? Fuck...I know it, but-...But it hurts so bad. I can't help it."

"Baby..." You slowly whimper and you spreads your arms around his shacking body. His head quickly finds comfort in your neck, his tears wetting your skin as yours are wetting his hair. You let your face in his hair as you slowly fall down at the floor with his arms tight around your waist.

"I-I just can't really believe it...I'm still waiting for him to come back. But I know he won't-...They will never come back."

Fighting with JJ was horrible, but him crying like this and falling apart in your arms is something else. This is your nightmare coming out alive, destroying you bad and permanently. You didn't say anything else, you can't find words that are enough in this situation, so you stand there on the floor, his body all over yours as you run your fingers through his now damp hair, over his back, arms and face, wipping the tears away. He keep muttering things, pouring his whole heart out, but you feel like he is more talking to himself and not really to you.

"I just wanna do the right thing, [Y/N]..."

"I know. I will help you with that."

He raises his head from your chest, his beautiful eyes are now very red and puffy. You softly kiss them and the dark circles around them.

"Why are you still here? I was-...I was an asshole to you. I wanted you to leave me, so I can destroy myself without-....Without pulling you with me."

All this time you thought he didn't noticed things around him, but he did way too much. He was hurt when he saw Kie hanging with Kooks again, he was hurt to see Pope changing for bad, but he was totally broken to see you not giving a fuck about you, instead giving your entire everything for him. He thought you will leave sooner or later; he actually hoped you will. But you didn't. You stood there, losing weight and hair because of all the stress and sadness, spending nights crying and worrying for him when he was totally shitfaced and the next day you still managed to smile at him. You still had in you the power to smile.

"I won't give up on you, JJ. Never and I mean it." You are so sure of your words as you speak, locking your eyes with him while cupping his face, slowly tracing lines on his cheek. That calms him down a bit and he surprises you when he brings your hands to his lips, slowly kissing your wrists. Another tear left his eye because of how skinny you are, knowing that he is the reason. You always brought food, but he never saw you ate any.

"You're too good. You-...You know that, right? I don't deserve you. I'm so fucking sorry...For doing you like this."

"I don't care what you think. You will-....You have to get out of this black hole. I'm getting you out, baby."

Both of you are still crying, but you managed to calm down. JJ has helped you and you helped him. You two finally had ears to actually listen to each other and that bring a smile on your red damp faces.

"I love you with all I have in me." He speaks with his face hiding in your chest and you smile, kissing the top of his head and his forehead. You keep on placing kisses all over him as a reminder that you are there, still loving him.

"I know, trust me I know. I lo-..."

"You don't have to say it back. You proved it way more than I did." You bite on your lip and you pull his head up to make eye contact with him. He looks so sad and hurt. You wanted so bad to wrap him in your arms and keep him there forever, protecting him from the world and all the pain.

"But I want to say it back." You smile and you gently press a kiss on his lips, butterflies dancing around in your stomach. "I love you, JJ! I love you!"

"Say it again." He whimpers and you smile again, pressing another sweet kiss to his lips. You miss this so much.

"I love you!" This time he's the one kissing you, really soft at the started of it and then he pours his whole heart on your lips, right on that kiss that is meant to take your breath away.

You stood there in silence for another long moments, until you couldn't feel your legs and hands anymore, but you didn't wanted to bother him so you didn't moved at all. When you two finally find the strength to get up and face the world, JJ looks like he's thinking at something.

"I have an idea..."

You managed to sleep for three full hours and it was something beside the other days. You still have a painful migraine and JJ needs focus to keep himself straight on his legs, but when the sun wasn't even out yet, you two and Pope arrived at the docks.

"Kie answered?" J asks and you slowly wrap your arm around his waist and Pope shakes his head, a sad look on his sleepy face.

"I don't think she will." Pope says and you and JJ remain quiet, still hoping.

The three of you sit down on the old wood and nobody said anything. There is nothing to say as you are waiting for the sunrise. The cold wind feels right on your skin, still hot from all the crying before sleeping and the only sounds around are from the insects or birds. The blunt is now at Pope and you take it from his fingers, smoking a little before passing it to your boyfriend. Your anxiety is not as bad as before, but you still can't keep yourself calm.

Soon enough, the sun slowly starts coming out from the ocean, the sky colors quickly changing to a beautiful red and orange combination that you always loved. You look at JJ and Pope, your boy taking out the little braided basket in which you placed a picture of your friends, John B and Sarah. You remember that day; you were with the boat on a throuple date and they are smilling at each other, their eyes locked as they didn't know you were taking pictures.

"They were so in love..." A soft voice speaks from behind you and you all turn around, seeing Kie standing there with tears falling on her pink cheeks.

You bite your lip to keep your tears locked, but looking at the boys they are already crying, so you start crying too. Kie almost run into your arms, wrapping her arms around all of you and hugging you tight.

"I knew-...I knew you will be here." You talk while sobbing and JJ kiss your temple, his tears falling on your face.

"I'm sorry...I-I'm really sorry. I didn't know what to do...But I shouldn't-..."

Pope stops her by kissing her cheek and pulling her in for a hug, Kie hiding her wet face at his chest as JJ looks at all of you, his glare stopping on you as you smile at him and slowly nod your head, encouraging him to do it.

You see his Adam's apple gulping up and down as he slowly places the braided basket above the water, still holding it with his fingers so it wasn't taking away yet. You tap his shoulder to make sure he knows that you are here.

"I will never forget you." JJ speaks to the picture, your head falling on his shoulder as hot tears falls on your cheeks. "And I think I will always wait for you to come back. Maybe you will, but probably you won't. But it's okay...You did it in Pogue's style." His whole body his shacking away, crying and speaking with sobs, muttering curses under his breath because he can't hold it in. "I love you, brother. And sister."

He shows you that he needs you and your touch by how he lets his head on your chest, just like he did the night before and you start speaking, your fingers in his hair and you eyes locked with the picture.

"John B, you were the brother I never had. Fuck, you even were my father if I needed too. Remember when you and JJ took me to prom because you think that no one was good enough for me? You were probably right because-....Because you two are the best matches for me. My best friends. My-...My shoulders to cry on. And Sarah...You were the best Kook ever, sorry Kie." You all laugh a little through your tears. "It was impossible to not love you when you were so-...So supportive and loving. Fuck....I will miss you so bad, guys. Chateau...And we, we will never be the same without you, but we will keep you in our hearts forever. I love you, guys."

It's too much for your weak hearts to handle it, but somehow you managed to go through the little speeches you all gave to them. Sadly, to a photo of them.

You all get up as JJ lights up the photo and let the basket float above the water, the waves quickly taking him away from the dock. Pope pulls you to his side, JJ and Kiara doing the same as the four of you share a big group hug while watching the basket. It's now covered in flames, but still floats away on the ocean.

JJ looks up at the sky and he whispers.

"Come on, man. I know you are somewhere out here...Just come back."

"What?" You whisper back to him, not sure if he really said something or not.

"I didn't say anything." JJ smiles at you and pulls you to his chest. He wraps his arms around you and places his lips on your forehead, keeping them there a little longer. "You are my Angel, [Y/N]. Thank you."

Tag list (lmk if you wanna be added): @afterglowsb-tch13​ @alexandracheers​ @hucklebaefinn​ 

[ally-127]

storm in the studio

genre: angst; fluff (if u squint)

pairing: reader x jaebum

summary: 5 days he’s been gone and you’ve had quite enough.

word count: 3.8k

warnings: strong language; suggestive content (just jaebum being horny);

one shot continues under the cut

you weren’t the biggest fan of the piercing cold of seoul.

but you were most definitely in need of seeing him.

so you just had to endure the cold.

your leather ankle boots weren’t made to suit this weather but regardless, you trudged through the hardened snow of the outdoor parking lot. it was too late at night you just weren’t bothered to park in the underground car park.

jaebum was in the studio burning midnight fuel—or rather, weekly fuel—working on songs to incorporate into an upcoming album, whether solo or not, you didn’t know. you didn’t want to be at your shared apartment all alone like the you’ve been for the past five days so you might as well just be in the studio with him.

it was pitch black out, as it’d been since 5pm this afternoon. you relied on the glow of the streetlights to light up your path to the entrance of the concrete building. smoke drifted out your lips from your breathing, your heart beating steadily in your chest.

you pushed past the heavy glass door that led into the large concrete buliding. late nights were a rare occasion for anyone to be present in such a vacant building, a place unlikely for a music studio to be built in. that was the exact intention of the producers, in order to avoid stalkerish fanatics.

pressing the button to the floor on the lift was hard when there were plastic bags of takeout hanging from your hands. you struggled for a little before managing to get the correct number. you waited, your boots tapping against the ground of the elevator impatiently.

you were frustrated that he hasn’t been home for days.

that he didn’t bother to tell you about it.

that he probably didn’t even notice his own health was slowly deteriorating.

you stopped in front of the familiar door of his studio, contemplating what you wanted to say to him. five days he hadn’t said a word to you. not a single text nor call from him you weren’t sure how to react when you saw his face again.

clingy was definitely not what you were. it was simply worry and concern that came naturally from a person whose significant other hasn’t been home for five days. and someone who had no clue where on earth he was since then.

until today.

your hands found the courage to grip the door handle and push it down. this location was so discrete no password was needed in order to enter. you took a single, deep breath before stepping in.

he had his back faced towards you. he was bent over the desk of control panels and his computer intently. his head was propped on his hand while he stared at the curved screen in front of him. the screen displayed a series of bars that represented the different sounds and harmonies he assembled to create a song. his dark, overgrown hair was unruly from stress. his ankle was crossed over his knee, a posture that he always in when he was indecisive.

jaebum worked far too hard but he’d been like this since forever, you were used to it. you just needed to give him a balance. a balance between the time for work and for himself.

as much as you denied it, you wanted him to make time for you too.

the chair he sat on creaked when he turned around to face where the sound of the closing the door originated, behind you. his feline eyes widened in surprise as they focused on you. he braced his hands on the arm rests of his chair, mouth opening and closing as if he didn’t know what he had to say.

“im jaebeom,” you muttered. you barely called him by his full name but at this point you felt like you needed to. “where the fuck have you been?”

“i was here,” he said matter-of-factly. you caught him holding back a flinch upon hearing his full name and the vulgarity of words that left your lips.

he hid it well though.

like the weather outside he was distant, cold.

a familiar feeling, if you were honest.

“and you didn’t bother to tell me?” you asked quietly.

you sat yourself down on the leather couch right opposite mostly to prevent from falling to your knees. you closed your eyes, took in a few more breaths, and continued. “i didn’t even receive a single text from you.”

“i’m sorry,” he said. “but i’ve been really damn busy.”

“yeah, no shit.” you spat, unable to contain your frustration no longer. you set the takeout roughly on the table with a light bang.

“i really have,” he stood from his seat, his height casting a silhouette on you.

you glanced up at him, at his tousled, black strands of hair. he wore no jewellery except the ring on his index finger that you gifted him, as he did whenever he’s working privately. his tired eyes bore no emotion, lips pressed in a firm line to make you aware that his patience was running thin. the dark under-eye circles were evidence of how much sleep he’d lost over the past month.

“all i needed,“ you closed your eyes to get a grip of yourself. “was one single call. but no, nothing from you.”

“i told you—“

“it’s been really damn difficult to be at home,” you gritted your teeth as you let everything that you’ve been feeling pour out from your system. “when i have to wait till three am for you to come home, only to find out you weren’t even going to.”

those delusional nights were the nights that you felt more insecure than you’ve ever been. maybe your lover had found someone else. maybe you just weren’t good enough.

but it wasn’t like that.

he kneeled down in front of you, taking your hands in his own.

you managed to crack his wall that was void of any emotions, a shield you’d learnt how to overcome in the past years by unleashing your own emotions.

whatever you felt, he felt.

long fingers intertwined with yours, dark eyes staring into your own. he shifted himself closer to you until his long torso was between your thighs. you watched as his pupil traced the single tear of exasperation that rolled down your face.

“i’m sorry,” he breathed, letting go of your hands to reach up and wipe that tear away with his thumb. “fuck, i really am sorry.”

“you know,” you told him, your voice unwavering. “you were beginning to make me lose hope in us.”

“no, do not say that,” jaebum shook his head, warm hands cupping your face.

how pathetic you must’ve looked under him. you hated the feeling of weakness and so did he. that was what drew you both apart. especially when you were both in denial of your emotional vulnerability, of your defeat. it definitely took you time to realise that maybe it was okay for you to just feel. exactly like right now.

suddenly, the feeling of longing for him nagged at your chest. disappointment couldn’t help but creep it’s way up into the crevices of your mind. you found yourself questioning the last time you saw him smile and the last time you heard him laugh, always so vocal it reverberated off any surface. you found yourself missing the smile he reserved for only you, the toothy grin he gave only in the privacy of your bedroom.

he released his grip on your face, uncertain on where he wanted to touch you, somewhere that would calm you down. hands found their way back to yours. he held your hand up to his lips and pressed tender kisses on your knuckles.

“jae,” you murmured, shaking your hands free from his grip. his lips parted in surprise as you nudged him back lightly to give yourself space to stand. “this isn’t going to fix anything,” you stalked toward the door. now, your aggravation turned into anger.

truth to be told, this was one of jaebum’s biggest fears. that you’d give up on him and walk away. that you’d leave him and strand him on his own.

but you had no idea about it.

“don’t leave,” he caught your wrist in his hands before you could storm out. “please.”

you were silent.

“i’ll come home with you right after this,” he pleaded, desperation now lacing his voice. “i promise.”

“no, jaebum,” you shook your head. you’ve had quite enough of this. you were here only to check if he was very well alive and to give him the fuel that he needed and missed out on in order to be alive in the first place.

“please,” he shifted his grip to your hand.

he sat down on the leather couch, hand still around yours. he drew you to him until you were on his lap,

wrapping his arms around your waist. you felt his hard chest press against the space between your shoulder blades and you felt the defined crevices of his abs on your lower back.

“i’ll make it up to you,” he whispered in your ear.

secretly you relished the warmth of his body heat, of his strong arms around you. you leaned your head back on his shoulder.

“stay,” he held you tight to him as if you might disappear if he let go.

“okay,” you breathed after a moment of thought.

jaebum exhaled loudly in obvious relief. “fuck, i missed you.”

“you don’t get to pull the ‘i miss you’ thing on me,” you said, still mad at him. your anger tamed down when you saw the pout formed on his lips when he rested his chin on your shoulder. a smile ghosted at the corners of your lips.

“forgive me,” his lips found their way to skin behind your ear, a delicate place he loved kissing.

you sighed, “just this once.”

to be fair, in all the years that you’ve been with him, this was the first time he did this. so you let him off the hook.

you two sat in comfortable silence before he shifted, sitting up and bringing you along with him.

“i made twelve songs,” he told you.

you were so used to telling each other everything it became an instinctive thing, to tell you about his day and what he did. you chuckled at the sudden piece of information.

“let’s hear them,” you said.

“they’re for my mixtape,” he tapped you on the thigh, signalling you to move aside so he could stand.

you watched as he ambled his way over to the control panel in front of the recording room. he hit play with the space button on the keyboard. synth melodies, bass and carefully assembled beats began playing. it never failed to impress you the fact that he did all of this on his own. then came his harmonious voice, a voice so familiar warmth blossomed in your chest upon hearing it.

he propped himself against the edge of the desk to watch your reaction to his craft.

you paid attention to his lyrics. the words and phrases in this song suddenly seemed so personal once you were able to process what they all meant, all the hidden meanings and connotations became crystal clear. these were lyrics he wrote on his experiences with you—he’d based the entire context of this song on it.

the sensual ambience of his song forced you to stand and your hips to sway subtly to the rhythm of his music. you pretended to be nonchalant about the intense stare he had on you, your eyes focused on the screen rather than his gorgeous face.

even then, you could see the corner of his lip lifting into a smirk as he crossed his arms. his t-shirt exposed the stretch of muscle in his forearms that flexed when his hungry eyes slithered down your face to your hips.

he was checking you out.

but of course, you knew that.

it went on for a few minutes. the more songs he played for you, the deeper his eyes burned into your skin.

those eyes were ones you were the most familiar with. those eyes were what you looked for in crowded places, in times you were in doubt. you’ve watched the brown irises in them ignite when he was excited, when he was angry. you’ve watched them soften every time they focused on you. you’ve watched his pupils dilate every time he was turned on or about to drive you insane with desire.

the atmosphere was suddenly heated, the temperature rising by a few degrees. you took off your coat and laid it by the couch as the wooden floor of his studio became your dance floor.

“come here,” you wriggled your finger to gesture him to do so.

like the magnetic force of attraction he seemed to have with you, he did as you said. you fisted your fingers in his shirt and pulled him closer to you. he leaned his forehead down on yours as you two swayed to the music. you danced, his hands on your hips, your arms around his neck.

“shit,” he breathed.

“what, baby?” you whispered, equally as quiet while the music thrummed in the background.

“i didn’t know how much i needed this,” he tipped your head back with a curved index finger under your chin. you felt his half-lidded gaze cut through you like a knife.

“needed what?” you asked.

“needed you,” he murmured.

“jaebeom,” you sighed. your head dropped onto his shoulder, immediately cutting off the gaze you shared with him and breaking his hold on your chin.

there was nothing said after that. he just held you to him, the deep rumble of his breathing gradually becoming louder than the music. your heartbeats were soon in sync with one another like the languid rhythm to which your bodies were swaying. you recognised in the familiar cologne, his favourite cologne while he recognised yours.

“i wrote all these songs,” he said amidst the silence, causing you to look up at him. “about you.”

“me, huh?”

jaebeom leaned down to run his nose on the crook of your neck, breathing you in. it was easy to tell how much he missed you and your scent that enveloped around him like a safety blanket. you were his reassurance that kept him on his feet, a reminder that sometimes he can take it easy. especially with him being a leader and having all the responsibility chucked on his shoulders.

“yeah, you,” he kissed you once on the jaw before retracting himself from you.

you felt a chill slither through you as a response to the loss of the warmth of his body heat. you ran your hands on your arms, trying to replace it.

the music was brought into a halt. the silence became deafening. the hum of electricity fused with yours and jaebeom’s synchronised breaths that left your lips were the only sounds that rang through the four concrete walls of the studio.

“why’d you pause it?” you asked him, a different kind of disappointment poking at your chest. you were definitely enjoying yourself listening to lover’s carefully curated album.

“because,” the screen in front of him turned to black as he shut it down. “i want to take you home, now.”

he made his way toward the switches, flipping each and every one of it off. he left the overhead lights on though, so he could see the shape of your eyes as they narrowed in suspicion and your hips as they angled to one side. he enjoyed watching your attitude shine through the dark, a striking attribute he was drawn to.

“jae...” you trailed off.

“hm?” he was a step away from you and his fingers were itching to reach out to touch you. he gave in, gently taking your hands in both of his. he stood in front of you, face an inch away but a quarter of a head higher.

“what are you doing?” you asked.

“i don’t know,” jaebeom admitted as he shook his head. he kissed the crown of your head, his barely-there stubble scrapping the bridge of your nose slightly. “i just know i want you, right now.”

you were speechless because you knew exactly what he meant.

eyes tracing across his face, you saw his eyes glisten with lust, with excitement. you saw his lips twitch into a brief smirk when he leaned down to capture your lips in his own.

adrenaline rushed through you, his touch spreading a wildfire throughout your body. a sound similar to a whimper broke free from your lips and he swallowed it whole, using this opportunity to glide his tongue across your lower lip.

he was good at this, jaebeom.

good at making your forget everything with the brush of his lips and hands around your waist.

except his absence in the past five few days that seemed to be the reason you were here in the first place.

you tore your lips way from his to catch your breath, looking up into jaebeom’s eyes.

“we can’t,” you said before the situation could escalate. “not here.”

“what?” he asked, disappointed. “why the hell not?”

he’d been dreaming of bending you over and taking you right on his desk in this exact studio under the dim lighting of the ceiling fixtures.

“we’ve got things to do—you’ve got things to do,” you traced your finger across his face, your heart placed at ease at how familiar you were with his features.

“like what?” he looked at the desk to which he created all his music. “i’m almost finished with most of the songs anyway.”

“i’m talking about you, jae.” you pointed at the take out laid on the table behind him. “when was the last time you ate?”

“yesterday night?” jaebeom pondered.

it was ridiculous that he needed to think in order to remember when his last meal was.

you nudged him back so he could sit on the couch. “here—” you the slid container that was filled with food you had specifically ordered for him forward, knowing it was his favourite and that he needed it. “—eat this.”

“you always take care of me,” he shook his head as if he was ashamed of himself. “where will i be without you, huh?”

for an unclear reason, you avoided meeting his eyes as you let the question drift rhetorically in midair.

he brushed off your ignorance and indulged himself in his food, eating in silence.

you sat down next to him, leaning back on the couch. his back was curved over his knees while he ate, hiding you from his line of vision.

“baby,” he murmured.

there was something so affectionate and loving about the way he said it that you couldn’t help but rest your elbows on your thighs just so you could angle your head to the side in order to look him in the eye.

“yeah?”

“i’m sorry,” he said.

“it’s okay—“

“it’s okay—“

“no,” he shook his head. “it was completely unacceptable for me to keep you in the dark for so long,” it seemed the effect of his absence on you still burdened him, that the short silence while he was eating allowed him to really think through everything. “and i know sex wouldn’t resolve it.”

“jaebeom,” you reached forward to cup his cheek. “i forgive you. besides, i’m here already, am i not?”

he chuckled and began to pack up the takeout all in the bag, tossing it into the bin next to the couch. he turned back to you, swiping a thumb over your bottom lip while his eyes lingered on your face.

“you lost so much of sleep,” he pointed out as he identified the dark circles under your eyes. “because of me.”

“i’m used to it,” you shrugged.

then there was silence again, the fact that he indirectly admitted he was horny looming over you both.

you climbed over him out of impulse, immediately straddling his lap. surprise splashed across his features, his jaw dropping slightly into a gape. you smiled a little at his reaction, your arms snaking around his neck.

“quit stressing,” you said. you felt his hands rest on your hips to keep you from falling.

“it’s really difficult not to—i’m stressed that my music isn’t good enough,” he sighed. “and i’m stressed that i might hurt you, ” he lifted a hand to push a stray hair away from your eyes. “it seems i already have.”

“no,” you placed a hand on his shoulders, massaging it to relieve it from tension.

“ye—ah—“ he squeezed his eyes shut in relaxation and threw his head back onto the edge couch. “—yes.”

“jae,” you gave him a solemn look although he clearly wasn’t paying attention.

“if i could’ve just picked up the ph—“

“jae,” you repeated more firmly this time.

“what?” he said.

“shut up,” you said.

“okay,” he chuckled, fingers tightening around your hips.

you worked your hands on his shoulders for a little longer, your eyebrows drawn together as you loosened all the knots formed by stress in the planes of his muscles. a sigh escaped your lips the moment your hands released his shoulders.

a few seconds later, you found, his eyes had almost been drawn into a close. he was exhausted and obviously, you knew that. his hands were still on your waist as his head dropped forward onto your shoulder.

“hey,” you murmured, running your fingers through his hair. “come on, it’s getting late. i’ll drive the both of us home, you can get your car tomorrow.”

he groaned your name, followed by a string of words you couldn’t really decipher.

a grunt, as unattractive as it was, left your lips as you lifted jaebum up from the couch with his arm slung around your shoulders.

“i can walk myself, you know.”

“oh, so you can speak now,” you teased him.

“i’m not drunk,” he nuzzled his head in your neck.

“you’re tired,” you glanced sideways at him.

“that, i am.”

“let’s go,” you grabbed your coat in your other hand, while the other supported half of his weight.

“wait,” he dragged you along with him to the switches by the wall. “i need to turn this off or the electricity bill will injure my bank account.”

you chuckled, shaking your head. “you’re crazy.”

“crazy for you,” he murmured, making you roll your eyes.

everything was pitch black and neither of you could see as you two made your way to the front door where light leaked through the edges.

“ow!” he screamed next to you as his movements jerked the both of you to the side. “my shin—fuck.”

you held back a laugh, cupping your hand over your mouth.

“fuck, it hurts,” he hissed, crouching down and bringing you down with him to check his on his so-called injury. “i’m literally going to destroy this damn table.”

“jae, we have to go,” you shook your head, a smile on your face despite the fact that neither of you could see.

“yes mom.”

[readbeneaththelines]

Phases

@lacabloodclatzette asked:

hi! i absolutely love your writing do you think you could make a namjoon imagine based of the song phases by prettymuch? thank you love! ❤️

Here ya go sweetie! Sorry it took so long to get out to you. Hope you like it. 

Oh-oh-oh, hey

I know you're tryin' to do you but you fell over

After a couple bad nights And 20 cold hearts (Mhm)

Tryin' to find a new you but I heard you got lost

Tryin' to figure your worth

What the hell does that cost?

He watched you from the sidelines, always right there, waiting and hoping. Every year, when you were no longer happy with the way you were, you would come back a newer version of yourself. But he always wanted you the way you were when you were both kids. The fresh faced, kind hearted, beautiful soul you that you used to be. College came, and so did another you. 

“Y/N?” Namjoon questioned when he saw you walk into your first lecture together. 

“Hey Joon.” You looked surprised, even though you had both talked about having one class together each semester. 

“You had dyed your hair some combination of vivid rainbow colors. Your make-up was heavy, eyes done up a bit too dark for his liking. Namjoon just shrugged his shoulders, and continued talking. 

“Wow. You really did it up this time huh? Anyway, here, I saved you a seat.” He moved his bag, allowing you to plop down beside him. You lugged your notebook and several pens out, placing them on the long table in front of you. 

“Yeah. I wanted to stand out this first semester, you know, push the limits. Besides this is college, you can be whoever you want and no one will really care.” You situated yourself and waited for class to start. “You going to the party tonight?”

“The first weekend of college party? The one where everyone will be smashed out of their minds and not remember a damn thing tomorrow? Sure, I’m here for it.” He rolled his eyes. He knew he would go, just to keep an eye on you. He was your self appointed guardian, or so he thought of himself as such. You were always the outgoing one, the party-goer that was the life of the party. He always watched out for you, keeping all the horny seniors away with his threats of misery if they ever touched you. He would take you home at the end of the night, help you change into your pyjamas, and tuck you into bed. He would then set a glass of water by your bed for when you woke up. 

The weekend was in full swing. You got ready with some of your roommates, opting for the skin tight black skirt that rode up a bit too high when you walked, the see through black netted tank with your lacy black bra underneath. You wore your black net stockings and black knee high boots to complete your look. 

“Y/N. You will definitely knock some guy off his rocker tonight!” Che said from behind you as you smoothed over your outfit one last time. You kissed her cheek, downing the last of the glass of whiskey on your dresser. 

“Let’s go fishing girls!” you screamed as you headed for the door, a huge grin on your bright red lips.

Fraternity row was bustling, people everywhere. There were jocks, preppies, bookworms, and the outsiders. Everyone mingled with each other, already going off in pairs. 

Namjoon sat on the stairs of one fraternity, scanning the crowd for you. When he caught sight of you he shook his head. Tonight was not going to be fun for him, he could feel it in the air.

You mingled here and there, a red solo cup always full in your hand. You had last count after the fifth one, not caring how drunk you got tonight. This was the first night of the rest of your life, you thought. If only you knew then.

Come two a.m., Namjoon had finally found you for the umpteenth time. You were half laying on some guys lap, his hands caressing your arms in a way that made Namjoon’s stomach churn. The guy’s hand was inching its way to your barely covered breast. Namjoon grabbed his wrist, jerking it away at the last minute.

“Hey! What’s up? She’s mine tonight!” The stupidly drunk guy hollered. 

“Yeah, Joonie! I’m his tonight! He’s gonna take me home, and then ya know what? We’re gonna-” Namjoon, covered your mouth with his hand, not wanting to hear the end of the statement.

“Joonie!” Your protest muffled by his hand. He removed it so you could continue. “Joonie. Really! I’m a big girl now! Just leave me alone. Imma gonna have some fun.” 

Namjoon shook his head, leaving you without a word. You watched with hazy glazed eyes as he walked away. You left that night with that guy, and regretted it the next morning. You woke up with puke all over your bed and clothes, the guy naked and sprawled out on your twin bed. You hurried to the bathroom, emptying your stomach of last night’s contents. When you finished, you slowly made your way to the sink. What was looking back at you was a disaster. There was a bruise on your cheek, your make-up was smeared, and your hair, well that would take a week to untangle. You quickly washed your face, not liking the minimal improvement. 

Namjoon stayed up all night, worrying about you. But you had made it very clear you didn’t want him to interfere. Instead, he waited until morning and texted you.

Namjoon

Wanted to make sure you got home okay

Your phone chirped, the sound making your hangover worse by the second. You picked it up, seeing Namjoon name in bold. You pulled up the text, rolling your eyes when you saw it.

Y/N

Yes dad. I’m home.

Namjoon saw your response, his heart breaking a little when he saw the condescending name you gave him.

The rotation of school and partying went on every week for the first full month of school. You stayed up late, trying to catch up, only to get further behind by the weekend. Namjoon watched over you from afar, never trying to save you from yourself. 

After your fourth weekend of going home with some stranger, sometimes waking up in a place you didn’t know, you realized that you were sinking. You always had Namjoon to save you. He always took you home and cared for you. That was, until you told him you didn’t need him anymore. But you were sure he would come around eventually, right?

Like clockwork, he would check with you via text and that was all. He even avoided you in class. You were starting to miss him. But you weren’t sure why. Sure, you had made out with him when you were in high school. But it never went past the heavy petting and deep kissing. This particular morning, for some strange reason, you thought back to those days. Namjoon, sitting in his dorm, was doing the exact same thing. 

Great minds always think alike.

Aye!

When I'm kissing ya, grippin' ya thigh

I realized you are destined and meant to be mine 

Who am I to conflict with you living your life 

Just know when you call

I'm at the end of the line

Damn those were the days. He knew from the first time he kissed you, he wanted you to be his. Unfortunately, his brain told him to ignore his heart, that you would never want to date him. He was a complete one-eighty from you. But he was there when you needed a shoulder to cry on, when you needed someone to bounce ideas off of. He was THAT GUY. The friend-zoned friend.

I'll practice my patience

While you're getting wasted

'Til fate brings you home

I'll wait through your phases

You'll shuffle through phases

Like songs on your playlist

'Til fate brings you home

I'll wait through your phases 

Namjoon waited for you to come around, but it seemed like it would never happen. After the first semester, you changed yourself once again. The novelty of partying was beginning to wear thin, the chance of you failing bringing you around. This time you were close to being the girl from your childhood. You hair was back to your natural color, your make-up softer, you personality friendlier. The two of you were starting to get back on track, until you met Jin. Once again, Namjoon had let the opportunity slip through his fingers to tell you how he felt. He was still there when you called him with news of your first date. He comforted you when you and Jin broke up. He even helped you get back up and back out there. When Jimin came along, he forced his fake smile, greeting Jimin with a cool ‘hello’. Namjoon was always there to pick you up and dust you off. He would always be THAT FRIEND. The friend that loved you in secret. 

Hitting all the right cues

And you leaving your mark

But that ain't you (Ain't you)

You're just playing your cards, baby

Tryna fit in those shoes but you take it too far (Too far)

It doesn't matter where it takes you

I'll go wherever you are

Oh-oh

When you moved in with Jimin, Namjoon helped you move your belongings. 

“Are you sure this is what you want to do? It’s a bit away from campus.”

“Joon, yes I am sure. I’ll get there on time. Seriously don’t worry about me. Thank you, but I am good, I promise.” You smiled at him, kissing his cheek quickly as you took the last box from him. When you had everything in its place, you and Jimin thanked him with a quick meal. Namjoon ate, then saw himself out as you settled in for your first night with Jimin. The next morning Namjoon set about finding a place close to you, for the just in case. He moved in his new place quietly, not letting you know. 

I'll wait, I'll wait through your phases, phases

I'll wait, I'll wait through your phases, phases 

For you, I'll wait through your phases, phases 

I'll wait, I'll wait

I'll wait through your phases, oh

It was three months later, Namjoon had settled into a routine of making sure you made it to class when you couldn’t get a ride, always telling you he was close by for whatever reason. You would talk about your future with Jimin, the plans the two of you had made. A future that didn’t seem to include him. Namjoon just smiled and nodded, telling you he was happy for you. 

Yeah, I'm really tired of being soft-spoken

You got me broken

Writing songs about you daily and it's messing with my focus

You fucked with him but we both realize that he was bogus

I'm the one for you but why do I feel like I'm go unnoticed

I'm talking more than clothes hitting floors

We're falling off track but not the rack like a chore

The call came at three in the morning. Namjoon, blindly searched for his phone on his night stand. 

“Hello?”

The sobs coming from the other end had him sitting up and wide awake in two seconds flat. You were crying, and the sound of your heart being wrenched from your chest had his nerves on high alert.

“Y/N? What’s wrong? Talk to me.” He waited as you tried to halt your tears enough to speak. 

“He. Jimin. He’s been cheating on me!” The keen wail emitted from your chest had Namjoon jumping out of bed and looking for his clothes. 

“I’m on my way. Just tell me where you are.” 

“At the park.” You had left your ideal lie of a home, seeking solitude and to cry. Your dreams were shattered, your future destroyed in one singular moment. 

Namjoon found you sitting on the swings, rocking back and forth, shoulders shaking with each sob that echoed through the night air. He came up beside you, sitting in the swing next to you. He didn’t say anything letting you guide the conversation when you were ready. 

You sat in silence, afraid to say something. You knew that you had taken him for credit all this time. You knew he was always there, even after you told him to leave you alone. You thought back to all the times he was watching and waiting, your knight in shining armor. The one you put on the back burner while you lived your life and he patiently let you forget about him and your friendship. 

Oh look, another butterfly, feel it in my core

Even though you ain't mine it's the fact that I'm yours

It's the fact my life ain't complete without yours

It's the fact that at night I be trying to ignore

Catching overseas flights just to knock on your door

“I’m sorry Joonie. I didn’t mean to have you come out here this late. I just needed someone to talk to.” You finally looked up at him. The look in his eyes made your breath hitch in your throat. He was tired, hair still a mess from sleeping, but he was there. He was always there when you called. He would traverse the earth if you asked him to. He would weather any storm, sail every sea, fly across the world if you just called him. He was THAT MAN. The man that would fight the world for you, if you only asked.

'Cause you put my planet in orbit

But, star girl your body's so soft

Look, I promise you, baby, I'm sober

Just wait 'til you give in and finally come over

I can't wait to tell you

I told ya, I told ya, I told ya

“Let’s go home, Y/N. I’ll fix you some breakfast and coffee. We can talk there.” 

You looked at him, confused. 

“Go home? Have you been drinking Joon? I’m not going back home.”

“Silly, home with me. Like I would let you step foot back in that place with his cheating worthless ass. He doesn’t know what he had.” You chuckled, though half-heartedly. 

“You’re right. He doesn’t does he?” Namjoon stood and took your hand, helping you up. It felt so right, your hand in his. Like it was home. HE drove you to his place, laughing nervously when you asked how long he lived so close to you.

“Do you think I would let you go on some hairbrained escapade and not be there to catch you when you fall? Y/N, I will always be close by for you. I will always be there for you. Always.” He led you inside, sitting you on the couch and covering your lap with his blanket. Your favorite blanket of his. The blanket you always curled up under when you were with him.

“You still have this old thing?” You asked. He was in the kitchen, making coffee.

“How could I get rid of your blanket? You would kill me if I threw that thing out.” He was right. It was basically your blanket, since you were the one that claimed it every time you came over when you were younger. That blanket held so many memories. 

“Thank you Joon, for everything. I can’t believe I didn’t see it coming.” You sighed heavily. Namjoon came back in carrying two mugs of steaming hot coffee. 

“I tried to tell you, Y/N. Remember when you first moved in with him? I asked you if you were sure. I wanted to tell you that I didn’t feel right about it, but you wouldn’t let me. “

“I know. I know I should have always listened to you. You have always been there for me, Joon. Why?” He gazed at you, finding the strength within to tell you how he felt. If he didn't, he knew he never would.

“Because. Even with everything you have done, I have loved you. Every turn, every change, every thing. All the phases, I have loved you through every one. I will always love you.”

You jaw dropped, your eyes wide, as you took in what he was saying. 

“Always? You have always loved me? Even when? Even when I did all those things?” You suddenly felt embarrassed and shy. He had been there through all your highs and especially through every low.  “But. But why?”

“You are my entire world, Y/N. WIthout you, I’m not complete. I would have stayed by you until the end, if it meant having you in my life, in some way. I will always love you, It has always been you.” He poured his heart out to you. It was your turn to be there for him as he cried, telling you the pain he felt when you pushed him away. How his heart broke for you every time yours broke. 

“Joonie. I’m so sorry. I wish you would have told me. I would never have put you through all of this. I would have saved us both so much grief if you had told me sooner.” 

Both of us? What do you mean?” you took his hand in yours, holding it to your chest. 

“I never told you how I felt because you never let on that you had feelings for me. All of those others were because I was trying to fill a place that was empty. That place was only for you. I have loved you since forever, Namjoon. I will always love you.”

“You know, for us to be educated college students, we were pretty dumb huh?”

“Maybe, but at least we wised up, and found each other at last.” You leaned close, your lips just a hairsbreadth from his. “How about we see if we can remember how each other kisses?” With that, you pressed your lips to his. It was soft, natural. It was home. You and Namjoon, together, was the final phase you would ever go through.

@lacabloodclatzette @kwonnansi @aspaceformyself @xjamlessparkx

[josiewinters1999]

SuperWho x Avengers x OFC in Tribal!AU

Summary: Post Infinity War, the remaining Avengers need a safe place to regroup, what better place to do it than the ancient lost city hidden deep in the Gallifreyan forest?

Chapter 2: Day 1 pt1

Words:  5020

Contains:  Mentions of alcohol/drug abuse, IW spoilers, mentions of death, angst

A/N: So sorry to anyone who was interested in this for being so late. I really have no excuse lol. Anyhow here it is. I’m hoping this chapter gives more insight to the characters backgrounds and prior relationships. Also thank you guys SO MUCH for all the support. I have never got more support for anything I’ve written here. I hope you guys enjoy these and are actually reading them. :)

Laying in his warm bed, Steve stares up at the ceiling. Sunlight begins to pour into the apartment bedroom through the window to Steve’s left. He turns his head to his nightstand, also on his left. The digital clock read that it’s currently 6 am. Typically, Steve would be up already but he’d been staring at the blank beige ceiling for over an hour, deep in thought, or lack thereof, he isn’t sure yet.

Wrapped in the crisp, soft, white, sheets next to him was a snoring body. The figure is sprawled across the remaining space in the bed, still wearing party clothes from the previous night. Her golden blond hair is frizzy and wild not only from sleep but her adventurous night. The red lipstick she wore stained her pillow case, and her eyeliner and mascara run down her face.

Steve looks over to the woman and sighs. How long was she going to do this? It’s no secret his girlfriend has a problem but he always hoped each time would be the last, only to be disappointed when it wasn’t.

Again and again he’d have to drag her out of trouble or bring her home before she got into it. Willie had a wild streak, that was for damn sure, and it only has gotten worse over the course of her and Steve’s relationship.

Glancing back at the ceiling, the super soldier let his mind wander. Images of her before their relationship flood his mind. Every time she entered a room, he’d swoon. Something about that lanky, London accented, time traveling alien held his attention hostage. He practically prayed the woman would just acknowledge his existence.

Then, after a few months of begging every force in the universe, she was suddenly fawning over him. The sudden change was something that should have sent up red flags in Steve’s head. He realizes that now, but at the time, he was in ecstasy. They started dating almost immediately, according to Willie’s wishes.

It all went downhill from there.

Steve’s heart clenches at the thought. Is it him? Is he to blame for Willie’s behavior? The guilt consumes him night and day but that pain is nothing compared to seeing his best gal come home a complete wreck most nights.

A rustle next to him pulls him from his thoughts. He darts his head to see Willie beginning to stir for the first time since she got home. She flips over, facing Steve with closed eyes and tired features.

A moan passes her blurry red lips as the light hits her closed eyelids. She mumbles something intelligible and Steve throws the blankets off him to shut the curtain. After throwing the fabric shut, he looks back to see Willie quiet once more.

He stands at the window for a moment, watching her in her deep sleep. He looks back at the clock, hoping it might tell him what the next thing to do should be. In addition to the time, it reads Wednesday.

Despite her impaired senses, Willie can sense someone is watching her. She slowly and carefully opens her eyes, being cautious of her pounding headache. When they are opened, all she sees is a blurry room and a tall figure by the window. It’s a figure she instantly recognizes and she is at ease.

An urge in her body arises and she lifts herself up to go tend to it. Throwing off the blankets to go to the bathroom, Willie stands. She wobbles for a bit before regaining her balance. A concerned voice behind her calls to her, “Willie,” Steve practically begs.

Anger surges through her in an instant, the hangover taking control, and she clenches one hand, raising the other to stop his speaking. Marching off to the bathroom, she leaves Steve alone.

He sighs, his shoulders sinking with his heart as he stands there in his empty bedroom listening to the movement in the bathroom just on the other side of the door.

He doesn’t move from his spot during the whole sequence, only waits patiently for Willie to finish. The doorknob jiggles and he looks to it instantly. Stepping out, Willie gives him one quick look with her sunken in eyes, and briskly trots out of the room and down the hall to the kitchen.

The super soldier waits a little longer before following her. Upon entering their kitchen, Steve watches with a cautious look as Willie brews a cup of coffee and lights a cigarette. Her hand lowers the zippo lighter back onto the counter and she takes a drag, her shoulders releasing some tension as she exhales the smoke.

Steve takes in a quiet breath to speak but is cut off in an instant, “Don’t.” His girlfriend’s voice was cold and harsh, unlike how her voice was last night. Last night it was hot and fluid, influenced by all the substances she had consumed.

He turns his head down, gritting his teeth. His own anger was growing and his patience was wearing thin. “We’re talking. Whether you want to or not, we’re talking about last night.”

Willie sharply twists her body to lean against the counter, her cigarette still between her thin fingers, “And what exactly is there to talk about? Huh? I went out. So what?” she shrugs, her voice and gaze both weak and full of power at the same time.

“Went out?” Steve repeats, scoffing at the absurdity.

Waving a hand in dismissal, Willie turns back away from him and to her coffee, “I can take care of my damn self, Steve. I don’t need you to babysit me.” Spitting over her shoulder, she adds, “What I do on my own is none of your concern and I suggest you let me do what I do.”

Seeing red, Steve marches closer to her but not quite all the way. “How is none of this my concern?” he shouts. “It was a Tuesday night and you decided it would be a good idea to go get drunk. Again. You’re supposed to be getting better, Willie. It only seems like you’re getting worse.”

Willie bites her lip, secretly knowing Steve is right but not wanting to admit it, in fear he’ll take away her only coping mechanism. “Not only did I have to drag you off the street slobbering drunk and ready to fight, I found something last night,” Steve states matter-of-factly.

“What?” the Gallifreyan asks, already knowing the answer.

Steve raises his voice slightly, “You know what.” He pauses as she shakes her head, “Really? Cocaine. You brought cocaine into our home? You told me you were clean.”

Willie smacks the counter with her free hand, “And I was.” She clenches her fist, trying not to explode, “I was clean.”

With a quiet voice, Steve scoffs, shaking his head, “Why should I believe anything you say? You’ve lied to me about everything. The drinking, the drugs, the cheating, everything. And I forgave you-”

“Don’t you dare get all high and mighty with me, Rogers”

Steve steps forward more, even closer to her but still not all the way, “I forgave you on one condition every time.” His voice turns sad and full of hurt, eyes becoming glassy, “That you tell me why you do all this.” He very slowly reaches his hand forward to touch Willie’s shoulder, “I just want to help you, doll. I hate seeing the woman I love be so hurt. I-”

Willie swiftly and forcefully pushes his hand away, fury in her eyes as she looks him dead in the face for truly the first time that morning, “Why I do anything is none. Of. Your. Damn. Business.”

Shocked, the super soldier watches her as she glares him down. Her own eyes are starting to form tears. The skin around them is both black with makeup and red with sorrow. The sight makes Steve’s heart shatter.

Before any tears fall, Willie storms out of the kitchen and onto the terrace outside their apartment. Steve wants to rush after her but is too paralyzed with emotion to move.

***

Day 1

Steve watches Willie talk, her voice clear and authoritative. Her rosy lips move, a thin layer of sweat forming on her skin. It was glowing and her eyes are bright. Steve is lost, soaking up the view of her like he’s seeing her for the first time and falling in love all over again.

He stands in a circle at the edge of the clearing with Thor, Okoye, and a few Asgardians. All of them listening to Willie’s instructions as she prepares them to collect firewood.

As she speaks, Steve is miles away, thinking about everything and nothing at the same time, “So the main thing you need to do when we go out here is stay quiet and stay hidden. This land isn’t forgiving and you will be killed if the wrong thing spots you.” She looks at every face in the crowd, stopping at Steve’s when she is met with his vacant look.

She lifts her eyebrow, confused, “You alright there, Stevie?”

He shakes his head, bringing himself to reality, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Nodding, she turns back to the others, her eyes being the last thing to leave him, “So is everyone on the same page?” She pauses, watching the people before her mumble affirmatively. “Good,” she responds, “Sam is watching the others, let’s go get some firewood.”

Pushing past them, she marches toward the silver treeline. The others follow her, Steve being the last to join them.

The woods was different than the clearing. The clearing was bright and blaring with sunlight while the forest was dark and a little cooler. However, not even the thick canopy could completely cut through the immense heat of the planet.

The air was more humid though, not as unforgivingly dry as it was in the clearing. That humidity gave way to life. Steve could hear the twittering of birds in the distance and the scuttling of small animals up trees. In addition, the plants at his feet filled his lungs with life. It was hard to concentrate on the task at hand with all this new information around him.

He looks ahead and sees the others gathering small silver logs and large sticks from the ground. Hearing a loud noise above him, Steve looks up instinctively. He sees Willie climbing the trees, picking bulbs off the branches and shoving them into her pockets.

Feeling eyes on her, she looks down to see Steve watching her. She points ahead, indicating he should be searching for tinder. He just stands motionless, unable to move. Sighing to herself, she climbs quickly down to the lowest branch of the tree. Willie then hugs the trunk with all four limbs and slides down it like a firepole.

Reaching the ground with a cloud of red dust flying up, she walks angrily up to Steve. She whispers loudly, “Go get wood.”

He silently nods, not speaking, and goes about the work she assigned him.

***

“Are you sure you can’t come in today?” the voice over the phone calls, “We could use some help training these new recruits.”

Looking over his shoulder to the bathroom door, Steve can hear vomiting and sobs through the wood. “Yeah, I’m sorry. It’s just Willie’s really sick and I want to be here to keep an eye on her.”

Steve hears a sigh over the line, “Sick. Sure.” There’s a long pause and Steve’s stomach twists with anxiety, “Steve, you can’t keep covering for her. Everyone knows she’s pulling you down.”

Muscles clenching, Steve scorns, “You better watch what you say about my girl there. She’s going through a rough time.”

The voice on the phone laughs, “A rough time that’s lasted for the past year.”

The Captain glances back at the door, “We’re working on it.”

“Work on it faster. This is the last time I’m gonna let you do this. Get your woman under control or I’m gonna take this to Director Fury.”

“He’d never get rid of me,” Steve retorts rather cockily.

“Not you, her.” and with that, the phone hangs up, a long tone conveying to Steve that the conversation was over. He slams the headset down, angry at their audacity.

The grunting and sobbing from the bathroom start to slow and quiet. Steve begins to worry and pads his way across the carpet to the bathroom door. He stops at it, listening. The only noise is the running sink. He knocks gently, calling his girlfriend’s name, “Willie? Doll, are you okay?”

She sniffles, calling to him from the floor in front of the toilet. “I’m fine babe,” her voice cracks through the sobs. She was speaking much gentler now.

Steve reaches to the knob and begins to turn it, “I’m coming in.” He pushes the white wood slab open, finding Willie collapsed on the floor, supporting herself on the tub next to the toilet.

“Sweetie,” he sighs. Shutting off the sink, Steve walks up to her, kneeling next to her. He pushes back the hair on her pale forehead and feels her skin with the back of his hand. She was at a normal human temperature, not particularly healthy for something like her.

Willie is too weak to protest Steve’s touches, despite her urge to scream. She allows him to pick her up, something he grunts doing, and carry her to their bed.

He places her upright against the cushions and pillows, sitting comfortably on top of the freshly made bed. He sits at her knees, his warm hand on her arm and his kind eyes staring worriedly at her.

“I wish you’d talk to me. I really do. I don’t want to hurt you, you have to know that by now,” he squeezes her forearm gently, “It’s been a whole year doll. Can’t you tell me anything?”

Willie turns her head from her lap to his eyes, the fire starting to regrow inside her. “You wouldn’t understand,” she spits.

Scooting closer to her, Steve grabs her hand in his other one, “But I want to, doll. Every night, I lay down next to the strongest woman I’ve ever known, just to hear her cry herself to sleep. There’s got to be a reason.”

The tears start falling down Willie’s face again, “What if I told you the reason would make you hate me?” she sobs.

“Honey,” he whines, “nothing you tell me could do that. I love you. Nothing is gonna change that. I promise.”

Instead of a speech, Steve is faced with sobs from his girlfriend, mixed with occasional muttering in her native tongue. Standing up, he walks around the bed to get in with her. She instantly grabs his shirt and buries herself into his shoulder.

***

By the time they got back, tents had been claimed, with the exception of the ones those who were chosen to venture into the woods would be assigned. As the new members of camp unpacked and made their new living spaces home, it was clear this new land was going to take getting used to, just by the looks on the people’s faces.

All the tents were lined up in two rows, each facing each other. This designated the center of camp. Willie had approached it, set down her armful of wood, and watched as her helpers did the same.

The fire had been started soon. It was almost like Steve had blinked and the pile of wood was ablaze. It reminded Steve just how good Willie was in her element. She was a primitive, always was, always will be. The sooner he realizes this the better.

Steve stands at the flame’s edge, staring into its light. With the fire and the suns above, blazing heat surrounded Steve on all sides, making his new long hair suddenly very uncomfortable.

Willie walks up, unbeknownst to him. She shakes some red dust from her hands, wiping them on her tactical pants. Her loud sigh indicates her presence and Steve glances halfway to the side, watching her boots as they make their way next to his. When she finally stops, he goes back to gazing at the fire.

“Suns are going down. High Priestess and her people should be here soon,” she explains in her familiar London accent. She crosses her arms, only about a foot away from Steve as he stands tall and erect.

He nods once, acknowledging her statement. He debates saying something regarding their status but remains deathly silent as she continues, “They’re bringing food and plan to for a couple more nights but we’re going to have to figure something out. The city can’t support this many people on the rations it has. Not forever.”

Steve only grunts, acknowledging her again. “I think we’ll need to set up some hunting and gathering groups and go out into the woods in shifts, but we won’t worry about that tonight. What do you think?”

Feeling rather insolent, he remains completely still and quiet, not even a grunt or nod. She waits patiently however, for his answer. After a long enough pause to indicate he has nothing to say, she turns her body towards him, “Steve.”

He gives no response. “This isn’t a fucking game Steve,” Willie can practically feel her blood pressure rise as she raises a straight hand to point toward one of the lines of tents, “These people will die if they aren’t taken care of and you’re going to stand here and act like a petulant child because we have history.”

Putting her arm down, she steps closer to Steve, lowering her voice just for him to hear over the crackle of the fire, “I know you feel guilty because you let half the universe die, but don’t make the same mistake twice.” And with an angry huff, she marches off.

***

Laying on his chest, Willie soaks up his warmth. Living outside her intended habitat took its toll on her body. The slightly higher body temperature of a human being was the best cure for her lack of two suns.

A protective arm around his best girl, and a hand placed over hers, Steve relishes in the feeling of her scarred skin on his. Her long gold hair splayed across his bed and her legs entwined with his is exactly how Steve wants to die.

Willie rubs Steve’s hand with her thumb, him returning the affection with his own thumb. They sat in silence like this for quite a time, enjoying the feeling of each other despite the looming problems that still need to be addressed.

“Steve?” Willie asks, her voice echoing through Steve’s chest. He hums lightly in response, craning his neck to watch her speak.

“If you could go back home, would you?” she asks, “If you could undo every bad thing that’s ever happened to you and just start over, would you?” Her voice is filled with distress and frustration.

He raises the elbow of the arm behind her head and begins to pet her wavy hair, “Like, go back to the war and not enlist?”

She hums and he sighs, “Of course not.” He feels her body tense as her brows furrow, “But why? Wouldn’t you like to go back and just be at home with all your friends? Don’t you just want to make all your problems disappear?”

Rubbing her arm with his thumb he leans into her, “If I never had enlisted and none of this ever happened, I’d have been some lonely skinny kid in Brooklyn. I probably would have died from TB or of an asthma attack in my studio apartment. I never would have been frozen and,” he places a gentle kiss to her hair before whispering, “I never would have met you, doll. All the trouble and pain in the world would be worth it for my best girl.”

There is a pause and just from the feeling of her stirring on his chest, Steve can tell Willie is trying not to cry. “I know you miss home, Willie. You say you don’t but you aren’t kidding me. Maybe I don’t quite understand how complicated your childhood was but I know just from the way your eyes light up, you miss being there.”

He wraps his free arm around her shoulders, “But no matter happens, I want you to know I’m here, honey. I’m not going anywhere.”

Without another word, Willie stretches up to Steve’s level, kissing him softly and thankfully. When they pull away, he looks into her teary eyes with pure adoration, “I love you.”

***

A few hours pass with Willie marching from tent to tent, checking to make sure everything was in order and answering any questions from her new citizens. Already, Steve can tell she is going to make a better leader than he could have ever imagined. Had someone told him three years ago his drunk girlfriend could do any of this, he would have laughed.

The daylight begins to dim and murmurs of hungry people can be heard from every direction. As Steve walks towards the fire once more to loiter, he hears an Asgardian child chant for his mother.

“Mother,” he calls, “There’s red people in the trees.”

This catches Steve’s attention and before he can even a breath to call for Willie, he sees her dashing past him to greet the said ‘red people’ at the entrance to the clearing.

His curiosity getting the better of him, Steve follows after her at a light jogging pace. Reaching the tree line to the east of camp, he is met by a group of strange looking people that can only be described as Gallifreyan.

Their skin is a medium red tan, like clay. Their hair is dark brown and with some wave in its texture. They wear their hair in varying styles, most of them revolving around braids of some sort. Many of the people, particularly the ones farther back from the front of the group, wear their hair braided tightly against the sides of their heads with the rest on top tied neatly at the back.

The clothing they wear varies as well. Most of their ensembles were simple, long red tunics with lacing down the sides, black and silver designs along the hem, and no shoes. Some wore straight legged pants of the same red color paired with either no shirt or an almost poncho looking drapery on their torsos.

However, the woman at the head of this gathering stands out amongst them. For starters, she is older. Steve wasn’t quite sure how old, but she looks to be in her forties or fifties. Her hair was in an intricate low updo on her back. It lay on her long draping robe with its large open sleeves and many more silver adornments than those of her followers. A long fabric belt cinched the robe at her waist; black with white symbols imbedded into it.

Looking briefly to Willie for comparison, it suddenly is clear to Steve just how much her people look like her. It’s all there in her face. From her narrow eyes, thick brows, long straight nose, and high cheekbones, it’s there. Other than the colors that make up her physique, she blends in perfectly with her native counterparts.

Willie speaks with the woman in  her native tongue, words flying faster than Steve has ever heard her speak in his life. Typically, when she speaks, her words come out at a leisurely pace, slow and thought out. Watching her speak with this native practically makes Steve’s head spin.

It isn’t until Steve looks back to the woman that he realizes that everyone there has their eyes plastered to him. The woman, Willie, and the congregation in the woods all stare at him. Some of their looks are of confusion, but others are full of awe.

The woman, with her red hands folded neatly inside her sleeves, turns to Willie with a smile, muttering something to her while looking out the corner of her eye to Steve. After she finishes with Willie, she turns back to Steve and begins talking to him.

Not being able to comprehend a single word, Steve’s eyes widen ever so slightly in panic as he looks frantically to Willie for answers. Rubbing her face with her hand, she sighs, “She’s asking your name. Just point to yourself and say it, no need to confuse her.”

Doing what he’s told, Steve gestures to himself with both hands, “Steve Rogers.” The second he utters his name, the crowd gasps lightly, whispers doing their best to repeat it.

The woman grins brighter, looking to Willie once more before saying something. Steve stutters, “Wh-what’s she saying?” his insecurities he thought he left in the 40s coming back.

Remaining eye contact with the woman as she keeps speaking, Willie translates, “She’s saying that she’s never seen a man with white skin before,” there is a small pause as the woman speaks, “that you look like me,” another pause, “and that she didn’t know humans would be so intriguing.”

Steve furrows his brow, “What’s that supposed to mean?” Rolling her eyes, Willie pushes Steve back, “I have no clue Steve, I was just repeating. Now get out of the way, The High Priestess doesn’t have all night.”

Backing him up against a tree, Willie rushes back to the woman, leading her by the arm into the camp. Her followers go after her, passing Steve on the way. They give him many looks as they walk past, each of them carrying enough food for ten people.

He manages to step away and meet everyone else in camp as they watch the Gallifreyans walk to the fire. A crowd has formed to watch the natives as they walk in, following Willie’s lead. The man Willie had come with, Sam Winchester, runs to meet them. From a distance, Steve can see them exchange words and Sam bends his top half slightly forward in a bow to the High Priestess. She nods her head with a smile and Willie cups her hands around her mouth to scream.

“Alright everyone,” she shouts, “This is how this is gonna work.” Grabbing Sam by the shoulders, she guides him in front of one of the Gallifreyans with food. A man wearing a red triangular poncho with black embellishments and fringe paired with red pants made of a similar material to buckskin stands ahead of him. The man holds a silver wooden bowl filled with some type of food.

Staring at Sam’s large build with awe, his mouth gapes open. Willie opens up to the crowd, showing Sam off, “You’re gonna get in a line. Then, when it’s your turn, you’re gonna walk up like this,” she pushes Sam a little closer, “and say these words, ‘G’dyejnah moschash.’” There is a small pause as she makes sure that the information is received before she continues, “‘G’dyejnah moschash.’ After you say that, you’re gonna bow.” She looks to Sam, who stands uncomfortably still. Willie reaches forward and smacks his arm, urging him to do as she said.

Mumbling the words Willie had instructed, he once again bends his front half forward slightly. The man with the bowl smiles, muttering the words back and hands Sam a piece from the contents of the container in his arm.

Willie drags Sam to the side and replaces him, “Line starts here.”

In that instant, Steve is swarmed by the hungry crowd rushing to get in line. When he fully comprehends what is going on, he follows in line with them, standing about three people behind Tony Stark.

The line slowly creeps forward, the setting suns making the heat slightly less intense. Looking down, Steve sees that every person standing in the line with them is covered in red dust from the knee down. Peering around the line, he can see Willie at the front. She herself is coated from the waist down, completely submerged in her home, both figuratively and literally.

Once at the front, Steve walks up to a young woman with her own bowl, the High Priestess and Willie watching intently just off her shoulder. He nervously steps up, catching a side glance at Willie. She stands erect, arms folded behind her back; a sharp contrast to the High Priestess, with her arms folded in front.

He takes another cautious step, the woman smiling lightly while she clutches her silver bowl. Doing his best to recall the proper words, he stutters, “G-g’degnuh moe-shush.” He stands still for a moment before bowing suddenly, almost forgetting to do so. The young woman smiles and hands him something. He walks away, going to join the congregation forming at the fire.

Steve looks down at the item in his hands. It was a golden colored bread wrap of sorts, and upon further inspection, it seems to contain a thin sliver of meat and a collection of red leaves within it. It seems strange but the rumble in Steve’s stomach told him not to question it.

He begins making his way to the fire to sit, being met with Bruce Banner wave a hand to him and shouting his name, “Steve, come sit with us!” Not wanting to decline the offer and seem, he walks to Bruce. He sits with Thor, Tony, Pepper, and Natasha.

“Pop a squat with me big fella,” Natasha says syly. Steve forces a grin and sits cross legged in the dust beside her. “Rough night, huh?” she chuckles.

“The first of many I’m afraid,” Thor answers, holding his half eaten bread wrap. Tony groans, “If this gets any worse, I’m gonna say something to Willie. I mean, what is she doing having us out here in tents?”

“She’s doing her best, Tony, let her be,” defends Steve.

The billionaire scoffs, “That’s rich coming from you, Rogers. You’d stick your neck out for that drunk if it was the last thing you did. Just because she’s your girlfriend doesn’t mean-”

Steve interrupts him, his voice blank and devoid of all emotion, “We aren’t together anymore.”

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[cosmonnuri]

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paring: namjoon/seokjin genre: slice of life, christmas fluff, picking out a christmas tree, marriage word count: 3.3k rating: T for swearing (PG13)

synopsis: seokjin throws a fit and namjoon just tries to be a good husband

[!] this is a work written for bangtan bookclub xmas exchange ‘18, my recipient is the lovely @kyleira ! i really hope you like it <3

cross posted on ao3 

Namjoon loves the Christmas season. Everything about it is just so lovely.

He loves the weather; the inconsistent oscillation between muddy grey and muddy grey but sugar powdered, the barely-noticeable-at-first-but-suddenly-it’s-there atmosphere of jolly stress. Loves having to leave two hours earlier because of the constant daily traffic jams around the city, loves having to push through the crowd of rushing people that looks twice as big thanks to warm clothing and unnecessary amount of shopping bags, to get to a damn coffee shop. (It’s a basic human right, Namjoon thinks. He shouldn’t stand in the line for twenty minutes just because some asshole can’t collect his bags at the register.)

It is truly the most wonderful time of the year.

“Good morning,” he greets Jin in the kitchen at 7:00 AM on 18th of December. Namjoon does have to admit, the little lights Jin hung around their house look nice, especially on a very sleepy-looking Jin. He mumbles something similar back at Namjoon and looks back at his phone, taking a sip from his cup. (He’s drinking peppermint tea. It’s always peppermint tea.)

Namjoon heads for the fridge after brushing his cheek softly. “You seem tired,” he tells him. Jin looks up again, face slightly sleep-swollen.

“Yeah,” he sighs and raises his phone pointedly. “Last minute Christmas shopping.”

Namjoon hums, pressing the buttons on the coffee machine.

“There’s like a week left, not really last-minute,” he says. That’s because Namjoon practically buys most his presents, except Jin’s and his mum’s, in January. Not in advance or anything, just the next year.

Jin shakes his head, smiling a little.

“I don’t know what to get my mum,” he whines a little. “She mentioned wanting a new mixer, but I’m sure dad’s getting her one, like he's so creative.”

Namjoon laughs a little. The coffee machine stops whirring. “Get her a potted plant. A poinsettia.”

“I hate poinsettias.”

“Get her a bonsai tree.”

“I got her a bonsai tree on her birthday, remember? That was your idea as well. You’re just like my father,” Jin says the last bit with fake disgust. Namjoon’s take a sip of his coffee.

“I’m sorry, I have no other ideas. Get her what you got me.”

Jin chokes on his tea. Namjoon stares at him, an incredulous smile on his lips.

“No way,” Jin says, rubbing at his eye before looking at Namjoon. “It’s not what you think it is—”

“I don’t even know what to think,” Namjoon says. It comes out snappier than intended. Jin looks hopeless.

“Want some toast?” he asks a moment later, getting to his feet.

Namjoon wants toast. They make some toast.

Ten minutes later it’s sort of too quiet. Namjoon bites into his second toast, scrolling through his emails. Jin looks at him from across the table.

“That’s right,” he says, and his tone is not one that Namjoon likes. “We need a Christmas tree.”

Namjoon pretends to not hear him for a moment. The statement just sort of hangs in the air, heavy above the very thin line of patience for Christmas Namjoon has. He finishes his toast first, his coffee second, all in quiet. Feels Jin glancing at him from his phone that is now at his eye level. Namjoon clears his throat uncomfortably.

“Aren’t we going to your parents’?”

“On the 25th”

“Really? I thought you said the 23rd?”

“The point is,” Jin says, a little irritated, any hint of cute sleepiness gone. “I want a Christmas tree.”

Namjoon sighs, leaning back in his chair. Watches Jin sip at his tea, eyes trained on Namjoon’s. If they both weren’t tired and stressed, it would probably be hot. But Namjoon just breathes out heavily and says,

“Okay.”

Jin’s look softens a little.

“What’s wrong with you?”

Namjoon looks up at Yoongi, third cup of morning coffee in his hand as he catches himself bobbing and moving to All I Want for Christmas Is You. Except the song is not playing; the office is quiet aside from the intense clicking of keyboard and mouses and shuffling of paper and occasional giggle from Jimin’s cubicle.

“Nothing,” he says.

Yoongi looks at him, somewhat offended, a stash of papers in his hand.

“Jin wants a Christmas tree.”

Yoongi scoffs through a pout. “Obviously. Give the man a damn tree, he deserves a merry fucking Christmas—”

“No, no, like,” Namjoon cuts him off. “I’m not the bad guy, okay? We’re going to his parents before Christmas, why would he want a Christmas tree at home?”

“You’re spending Christmas with his parents?”

“Yeah, why?”

“That’s disgustingly domestic.”

Namjoon stares at him for a moment. “We’re married.”

“That’s so gross, I’m gonna tell Jimin—”

“Don’t,” Namjoon leans forward, “tell Jimin.”

“Get Jin a tree,” Yoongi says. “It’s for the sake of your own peace.”

Namjoon sighs. Nods twice. Mumbles, “You’re right.” Then looks at the stash of papers in Yoongi’s hands. “What’s that?”

He tosses them carelessly onto Namjoon’s unorganized pile of documents and folders. Namjoon glares down at them wearily. “What’s this?”

“Sales reports of December.”

“So what, like, we’re not working anymore?”

Yoongi shrugs. “Pretty much.”

“Corporate said we have four days off from 23rd to 26th and then two days on New Year’s.”

“Three,” Yoongi says.

“What?”

“Three days if you include Saturday.”

“Right,” Namjoon says. “So why are you giving me these?”

“Because it’s the end of the month.”

“Hyung—”

“Look, Joon,” Yoongi says, propping himself on Namjoon’s desk. “Today is the last day of work. Taehyung declared it holidays last Friday, the IT guy unblocked PornHub and Miniclip, too. Jimin’s been on the phone for eight hours for the past two days, and I swear to God you do not,” he pauses for emphasis, “wanna hear what he talks about, but it’s certainly not his sales clients.” He thinks before saying, “By the way, we’re having a party tomorrow at 4:00 PM.”

“I probably won’t make it,” Namjoon says. “Wait—did you— did you say PornHub is working?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Nothing,” Namjoon shakes his head quickly. “Did he tell you that or did you—?”

“Joon,” Yoongi narrows his little eyes on him, turning to leave. “Sort those out. Merry Christmas.”

“You’re slacking off!” Namjoon yells to his back. “There’s five days left!”

He says that but pulls up a new tab to play pool online once Yoongi's gone.

“I don’t like it,” Jin tells Namjoon for the eighth time in the span of five minutes, and Namjoon is honestly about to cry.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Look at this side,” Jin beckons for Namjoon to come next to him. “See?” he points to a branch with a few dried needles. Okay, maybe more than a few. But that last tree wasn’t too bad.

“What about the last one,” Namjoon asks, walking back a few steps, “this one looks okay.”

“Okay,” Jin says categorically. “I’m not having an ‘okay’ tree in my house, Joonie. It will drop needles in a week.”

Namjoon stares at him.

“So you want a live tree, but you hate them dropping needles? We’ve been over this last year.”

“There are fresher trees that drop less needles. And I want a bigger one.”

“Bigger trees drop more needles. Fresher trees are also more expensive. This one’s a good deal,” Namjoon says, checking out a price tag of the nearest tree.

Jin ignores him promptly, focused on his phone; probably googling best places to shop for Christmas trees in the city. Namjoon starts to inspect another tree.

They’ve been together for seven years now, and each year is a dilemma. Every Christmas season it's a dilemma, typically. It’s always a test on their relationship.

“Let’s go to a different place,” Jin says finally.

And it's fine, really. Namjoon had decided years ago that he will not let a stupid season break the unbreakable bond he’s formed with Jin. He reminds himself that while getting into the car, after nodding the tree guy an apologetic goodbye. (They wasted twenty minutes of his life.)

Jin drives them out of city.

Namjoon turns on the heater. Jin turns it down a few moments later. Namjoon lowers the volume of Jin’s special Christmas playlist; Jin turns it back up little by little. By the time they’ve reached the suburbs, he turns to Jin.

“Can we listen to something else than Mariah Carrey?”

Jin’s hand tightens on the wheel. He side-eyes Namjoon and says, “Fine.” Skips to Santa Tell Me and—

“What the fuck?”

…It’s a remix of Khia’s My Neck My Back and Santa Tell Me, and Namjoon wants to die. Jin, on the other hand, is laughing his ass off.

“—It’s a good song!” he tries to say in between the laughs. Namjoon feels himself get hot and smiley and Jin’s honestly so cute, but if he doesn’t focus on the road—

“—Just drive,” he sputters like he should be annoyed.

“Do you—” Jin stops to calm his laughter, “Do you want me to turn it off?”

“No,” Namjoon says. Too quickly. Earns a teasing glance from Jin. “Just—just whatever, leave it. If that’s the kind of music you like—”

“Namjoon you literally ate my a—whoa, fuck!” he steers his wheel to the right; some car in the contraflow barely made it back to the lane after overtaking a car. Namjoon holds tight onto his seat. Khia’s scratchy voice thunders in the car over Christmassy music.

“Fucking asshole,” Jin mutters, and Namjoon hums in agreement. A few moments of silence pass before Jin starts rapping along, and Namjoon has to smack him out of it. (At which Jin laughs and coos and has a hard time focusing on the road.)

“This one’s dry as fuck.”

“Language, babe,” Namjoon mutters, leaning in close to Jin, when they’re outside picking trees again.

“Get off me,” Jin says, not unkindly. Namjoon props his chin on Jin’s shoulder. “Namjoon, please.” Namjoon backs away.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he says, clearly upset. Namjoon pokes his side and Jin smacks his hand away. “How about this one?”

“Looks good to me,” Namjoon immediately says. Jin narrows his eyes on the tree like it offended his mother.

“Are you saying that so we can get this over with?”

“No, it really looks like a decent tree.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Jin pouts slightly.

“Why do you think that?”

“Because it’s dry. Needles. Needles everywhere, even now,” he points at the ground; beneath the soles of his shoes lay scattered spruce tree needles.

“That’s because they had to carry all these trees here, not because it’s shedding,” says Namjoon. “Look, can’t we just get a tree and go decorate it already? I’m sure everything will look good covered in Christmas lights and decorations.”

“Decorations don’t fix everything; you need a proper base—”

“—It certainly fixed our kitchen, though.” Jin stares off into nothing. Namjoon sighs, tugging at Jin’s hand inside of his coat pocket, “Let’s just go home, Jinnie—”

Jin’s head snaps at him. “We’re not leaving without a goddamn Christmas tree.”

Five minutes later Jin’s face looks drained of blood, eyes tired. Namjoon is scared. Angry Jin is not the Jin he can easily tell something nice to and coax into calmness; angry Jin means conflict, and conflict means angry Namjoon, which means two days of suffering and death glares and no coochie and at least one full can of Heinz baked tomato beans. (For stress-eating.)

Namjoon’s learned to play it safe, however. Sometimes it works out.

“Babe,” he tries, voice very soft and very careful. “It’s okay. We don’t need to buy one today, there’s a whole week left, we’ll just—I’ll just buy one tomorrow, yeah? After work? I’ll go—”

“—Hey,” the guy who sells the trees speaks up, drawing both of their attention to him, “if you two aren't buying a tree from me, you can get out.”

Sometimes things he can’t control make it fail.

They stare at the guy for a second; Namjoon shakes his head right before Jin breaks through, little flames in his eyes.

“What did you just say to me?”

“Jinnie, no—”

“No, if he wants us to get out, we can get out, these trees are ugly anyway, congrats, we wasted your ti—”

“Jinnie,” Namjoon puts a hand on his shoulder. Jin breathes out slowly. Shakes Namjoon’s hand away for the third time that day, and it kind of hurts. He’s angry, Namjoon knows that, but still hates taking full damage.

“Your trees are dry,” Jin states, passive-aggressively, “and I hope they become even dryer, just like your face, personality, sense of compassion—”

“Seokjin,” Namjoon’s voice is more steady this time. Jin relents.

They get into the car, doors slamming shut, seatbelts dragging harshly. One seatbelt, in fact. Just one. Jin’s sitting behind the wheel, looking straight before himself. Namjoon looks at him worriedly.

“I’m sorry he was like that,” he says after some time.

Jin scoffs quietly, turning away to the window. “Not your fault he was an asshole.”

“That guy was very rude,” Namjoon agrees.

“I just want a fucking Christmas tree,” Jin mutters, voice shaking slightly. Namjoon sits up in his seat, letting go of his seatbelt. Grasps Jin’s hand, and Jin lets him hold it for a while, before he’s dropping it away, hands tight on the steering wheel, look empty and cold as he starts up the car. Music plays automatically and Jin jabs the turn off button before Namjoon can react.

The whole ride is quiet; tension thick in the air around them.

Once they're home, Jin hasn't calmed down one bit. He slams the door behind himself and Namjoon has to open it to enter again. He follows Jin into the bedroom, trying to calm himself down, it’s a thing, this is a thing, it will pass, just gotta talk him through it…

“You know what,” Jin seethes, taking off his gloves one by one, his muffler, his coat, tossing it on their bed with unnecessary force, “I’m so fucking tired of this shit. Each year we have the same problem. I want a fucking Christmas tree. Can’t we get a damn Christmas tree? I don’t—”

“—We’re going to you parents, there is no point in stressing over such meaningless—”

“Oh, so now it’s meaningless?”

Namjoon sighs. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Yeah? Because hearing you say that I can’t think of anything else.” Jin plops onto the bed, buries his head into his palms. Namjoon just stands there, feeling his body heat up with the coat still on. “You could’ve said something,” Jin says quietly, muffled into his hands. “That guy was rude and you pretended like it was my fault, like I don’t have the right to choose a damn tree—”

“That guy was an asshole, but it doesn’t mean you have to stoop down to his level, Jinnie,” Namjoon tries, a little softer. He’s tired. They both are, and he just wants to make up. It’s Christmas, for fucks sake, and even if that wouldn’t mean anything if Namjoon lived alone, it does right now because Jin loves Christmas. Jin makes him love Christmas too.

“I’m sorry, I just—” Namjoon walks closer to him, sits down on the mattress, feels Jin shiver a few inches away from him. “Having to see you stress so much over finding the perfect Christmas tree... I didn’t want you to go through it like that. It's… not worth it.”

Jin leans into him slightly, and Namjoon puts a hand on his thigh, soothing, not quite taking him in his arms yet. He wonders if Jin is crying, but he’s probably not; Jin is strong. He’s very strong and usually has his shit together, but the past few weeks have sort of drained him. It’s Namjoon’s time to be stronger this time. He feels important at once, a surge of determination flooding him.

“I should’ve been more considerate. We can still get that tree, right? We’re leaving on 23rd, so there’s still a few days…”

“—25th,” Jin says quietly, but his voice doesn’t shake. He moves his hands away from his face and looks at Namjoon, eyes red from rubbing at them. “We’re leaving on the 25th because I wanted to spend Christmas with you first.” He’s quiet for a moment, and Namjoon reckons he should say something, before Jin speaks up again, through a somewhat shy pout. Says, “Also because of your present.”

It might be the light. It might be that Jin’s actually blushing, and it makes Namjoon curl up into his side.

“I’m sorry Jin, I didn’t know that.”

“How could you have? I’m the one who didn’t tell you that and jumped to Christmas tree shopping.”

“I think you mentioned something.”

“Still,” says Jin. “Sorry Joonie.”

Namjoon nuzzles his nose into Jin’s neck, uncomfortably hot in his coat but too comfortable in Jin’s arms to move. “I’m sorry too.”

They sit like that for a little before getting up to make dinner. Later when they’re both in bed, Jin says, “Who cares about a stupid Christmas tree anyway. I can just give you the present.”

Despite that being said, Namjoon brings home a little spruce tree in a plastic pot the next day. By the time Jin’s home, he hasn’t touched it more than put it in the corner of their bedroom; Namjoon knows Jin likes to decorate it with him.

That they do; the tree looks small and cute and feels like home; they sit in bed and watch the lights play around the room, sparkling and blinking, casting a cozy glow on the walls and ceiling and their faces.

“I love this,” Jin says, in the evening of December 24th, after dinner. He looks at Namjoon softly, fingers dug into the new heated blanket that Namjoon got him. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

“I knew you’d like it. I thought of it when the heating was off for the whole weekend like a few weeks ago,” Namjoon says, smiling sheepishly, staring fondly at Jin, who’s in the process of wrapping himself up in his new blanket. He looks cuddly and soft and Namjoon is so fond. “You seem to be cold in your sleep a lot.”

“I’m cold all the time,” Jin says, muffled into the blanket. It’s turned on, working, heating Jin. Namjoon hears him let out a sound similar to a kitten’s purr. “You’re the human furnace, and I absorb the cold.” Jin opens up his arms and the blanket, inviting Namjoon in, and he happily falls forward.

“Good thing it was on sale then.”

“You really outdid yourself this time,” says Jin, smiling, and kisses his forehead. Namjoon smiles up at him, letting Jin press a kiss to his lips.

They stay like that until Namjoon’s inner warmth burns through and he starts sweating; he sleeps with no blankets on, so getting this for Jin is a potential sacrifice, a singular promise to let him stay warm while Namjoon burns.

He’s okay with it, though. As long as Jin is happy and they’re okay, Namjoon is happy. He can burn, he can freeze, he can melt and evaporate into thin air.

“I would die for you,” Jin says, half-jokingly like he does, but yep, Namjoon knew he’d do the same.

It’s just how things are.

They are: great.

They are: okay.

They are—

“Wait, I forgot your present.”

Namjoon looks up, a strange heat in his stomach, something he hasn’t felt in a while.

“O-oh,” he says. “Okay.”

Jin gets up and takes a rectangular box from under their bed. Namjoon stares at it intently all the way until it’s in his hands, and Jin says something like, “I thought it was about time I got you one of these, since that one night when we talked about… and you know, I just saw it and decided to get you— us one…”

Namjoon barely listens, undoing the little bow, ripping off the wrapping paper, opening up the box even though the packaging is so painfully obvious, he…

“Oh my god,” says Namjoon. Next to him, Jin breathes out. “Oh my god,” Namjoon looks up at Jin, and he’s sure it’s all written on his face, because Jin’s lips twist into a smug grin, and he says,

“Knew you’d like it.”

(Namjoon does. Namjoon likes it very, very much. Thanks, Jin.)

[sweetwriting]

How about #71 and timkon(your story are wonderful)

That’s so sweet of you to say this ^^ thank you. I’m sorry it took so long but there’s a part for which I felt like I needed quite a few different PoV and, you know, Holidays timetables XDCategory: Gen/Pre-SlashGenre: Angst / Fluff / FriendshipFandoms: DC Comics, Teen Titans v3, Red RobinContinuity : Post-Crisis/Pre-FlashpointSummary : Prompt Tumblr n°71: « I just did some calculations and I’ve been able to determine that you’re full of shit ». TimKonOr when someone has to come out to someone else and things don’t happen like you’d expect them to.Word Count : 4210 Warning: Internalized Homophobia (the irony when the persons comes out as bi-sexual)To read it on AO3Thanks to my Betas: chonaku-things, @thattimdrakeguy and @emelinewriting  

Tim had arrived at the Kent farm over three hours ago. He loved going to Smallville, it was pretty peaceful despite the few abnormal cases here and there. Of course Tim was a city person at heart but he couldn’t deny the soothing effect the place had on him every time he just step foot out of the Bat-Plane (he was still trying to get one of his own). However, unlike what he had come to expect during his past few visits, he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of his best friend ever since. Or rather, he had gotten a quick hug he barely noticed and a swift “I gotta finish a few things and I’ll be all yours” and no sign of life since then.

It was very strange because the routine usually went like this: Tim finished his patrol around 3 AM, he took his plane and let it lead him to the farm on autopilot. Since he made sure to go at a “cruise pace”, it took him over four hours to get there and he used the opportunity to sleep a little before arriving. He would then help Conner with his chores -not that he needed it but it became fun when they did it together and it forced Conner to work without using his powers too much. The amount of help Tim was allowed to give mostly depended on whether Conner had school or not because Conner had to be finished before his classes started. They would then go get breakfast with Ma and simply talk about the weather or Tim’s work with his Neon Knight Program or Conner’s school friends or anything under the sun.

At first, he had tried to go help but every time he reached one of the “chore check points” as they called them, Conner disappeared. So Tim gave up. He obviously would have been worried had he not heard Conner in the distance or seen Ma roll her eyes when she had seen Tim try to run after the noise.  However, it did frustrate him.

It was the seventh time Tim spent a big week end at the Kents’. The seventh time in over three months. He was starting to spend almost as much time here as he did in Gotham and he hadn’t felt this good in literal years. Whether it was reconnecting with his best friend (or him being alive in the first place), having much more downtime in a quiet setting, or simply being around Ma, it did wonders for his health (mental or otherwise). He and Conner usually left for the Teen Titans’ tower after Conner had finished school, or after they had lazed around depending on their mood (the official time they were supposed to be there was Saturday morning since the training sessions started at 6 sharp so they had time). Then they returned to Smallville on Sunday nights and Tim left for Gotham the day after. He was close to patting himself on the back for finding such a great way to organize his time. Still, the change was really frustrating.

Tim had never been a very patient person…quite the contrary to be honest. He had learned to act as if he were patient and was usually good at fooling people into thinking he was but the truth here was that Ma seemed both amused and pitying at the sight he gave her with the small twitching of his eyes, and fingers and his body in general, itching to go ask his supposedly BFF “what the Hell” was going on for him to chose to ignore Tim the way he was.Ma had been a great host (as opposed to her nephew/son) and while talking about the latest “news” in their lives (How was Dick fairing?, How was their relationship?; Had Alfred’s patience with all of the Bats finally gone thin enough for him to snap? or Was Cass going to come back home in America for good), they had made hot chocolate and eaten some cookies. It was truly nice of Ma to deal with him like this and he felt awful for being distracted but he had come to spend time with Conner and the boy’s absence was starting to get on his nerves.

It took another hour before Conner deigned showing up again and dared ask them if they hadn’t missed him too much. At which point he froze and said he had to go buy something somewhere (he had mumbled so low Tim hadn’t been able to really make out what Conner had said) and before Tim could tell him he was coming with, Conner had disappeared. Again.It was becoming really, really frustrating.

It took two more hours for Conner to come back and Ma had to force him to stay.She had asked Tim to get the waffle iron down in the basement, obviously, so she could talk to his best friend as she had watched Tim’s good mood at finally seeing his BFF face to face after a few weeks, sour with each passing minute of Conner’s running away from him.Tim decided to wait a few minutes before going back. He took the time to give up his badly kept façade and let his insecurities to the forefront of his mind (not that he had managed to keep them away in the first place but he had managed to mostly ignore them in favor of talking with Ma)

Mostly, it was about reviewing what he could have done during their last meeting to make Conner want to run away from him like that. Had he really done something worth his best friend avoid him? As far as he knew he hadn’t acted differently from the way he usually did. But what else could it have been? On their last mission, Tim had behaved the same way he usually did: running in with what some would call a half-baked plan but Tim called an adjustable plan. No one had gotten especially hurt. He had used Conner’s name instead of his code name but it was far from unusual (and Conner was as bad with his). After that, they had come back to Smallville and watched TV while Tim fell asleep on the first episode of Cissie’s character on Wendy the Werewolf Stalker. Was this why Conner was avoiding him? Because he fell asleep during Wendy? On an episode with Cissie in it? But that wasn’t possible. Conner had never held a grudge against Tim’s lack of passion for the show (he liked it just fine, but didn’t see the point of obsessing over it), he was also less obsessed himself than he had been a few years ago. He actually missed it a little.So maybe not acting differently was the problem.Had Conner gotten tired of dealing with Tim’s issues? Of Tim’s refusal to see a therapist?No. He would have told him. A big part of their friendship’s strength was their ability to communicate about everything whether they needed it or not even if they had needed a little push sometimes (though that was mostly at the beginning of their friendship and when Conner had come back, or really, when Tim had come back).Or was it Conner who did something he shouldn’t have? And he was afraid, ashamed or embarrassed to tell Tim? But even then, their “problem solving” communication still applied.

He was broken out of his introspection when Ma called for him. He went up the stairs to see that Ma had already left and Conner’s upper half was spread on the kitchen counter, face hidden in his arms. Tim’s eyes lingered on them for a few seconds, thinking that if Conner kept on getting bigger without getting taller he would end up looking like a mountain made of muscles with eyes on the mountain top.Tim had to force himself to keep from snorting but Conner must have heard something as he lifted his head slightly so his left eye was above arm level before promptly falling back in.

Tim rolled his eyes and put the waffle iron on the table before placing himself on the opposing side of the table so he would be face to face with his best friend. He waited a few second but Conner didn’t seem to want to come out of his shell.It sobered Tim quickly enough. The little smile that was growing on his face disappeared and he started probing Conner :

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” came Conner’s muffled reply.

Obviously, he wasn’t going to make it easy for Tim. And he would have tried to be patient. Really. But he had been waiting for Kon for six damn hours. He had been patient enough. So he lifted an eyebrow and replied.

“Well as you told me the last time we had a “talk” ” he said sarcastically, air quoting the word, “I just did some calculations and I’ve been able to determine that you’re full of shit”.

Tim paused and waited for Conner to react, but nothing. Nothing happened. So he took a deep breath.

“You know, if you didn’t want me to come, you could have just told me. It would have saved us both time.”Conner lifted his head, looking as if the thought hadn’t even entered his mind as if he hadn’t thought it would occur to Tim, even if Ma had probably mentioned it? Tim continued.

“I’m pretty sure Ma had other things to do than entertain your guest you know. So if I did something, just tell me.”

Tim barely had the time to finish his sentence that Conner’s hand shot out of his shell-like position to hold onto his wrists. He looked panicked as he started to try and reassure Tim.

“Woah dude, stop right there. You didn’t do anything” then mumbled, “Well, not really”.

This was something that Tim didn’t know how to take. He decided to keep it in a corner of his mind as he asked one of the only other routes the problem may have taken.

“Did you do something?”

Conner cringed slightly and Tim knew he had hit the nail. Then Conner noticed his hands were still on Tim’s forearms and took them back swiftly as if he had been burned. Touch had never really been a real issue between them. Even in their “bro-est” moments they never hesitated to at least grab each other’s arms or at the very least stand in the other’s personal space.  And yet, Conner seemed highly embarrassed, both by Tim’s “accusation” and his own actions, which meant that Tim was going to have to ease Conner in. He put his own hands on Conner’s wrists.

“Conner, hey, it’s okay. It’s just me, you know there’s nothing you can’t tell me right? Even if you’ve suddenly become some sort of man-eating zombie.”

The young man in front of him now looked downright uncomfortable and escaped Tim’s hand, putting his own on his knees. Tim was completely at a loss. Luckily, and despite his reaction, Tim’s little speech seemed to have convinced Conner to start talking.

“Actually, it’s something that you could, kind of, maybe, judge a little…”

Now at this, Tim felt affronted and obviously started to look it as Conner started talking faster.

“Not in a mean way, well kinda, but I mean, there are a couple of stuff you’ve been known to be slightly judgmental about and I, I’m just…I’m prettysureI’mBisexual”.

Tim stopped for a second. Not especially out of shock because he would have needed to actually hear Conner’s word as he had both mumbled and lowered his voice. He couldn’t help a slight smile at Conner’s childish behavior, despite the frustration he was feeling.

“Conner…I know you think I won’t be able to judge you if I can’t hear you but it’s not the solution. If you’re not ready to tell me, it’s okay, I can wait. I just don’t want to let things fester otherwise we both know we’ll never deal with it.”

Conner seemed to calm down slightly at that and took a deep breath.

“Look, it’s not so much that you’re judgmental about this subject in general so much as in an “it’s okay as long as it doesn’t happen to me” kind of way and I’m your best friend so if it happens to me you’re kinda concerned too and I’m afraid it’ll weird you out and make you uncomfortable and….Ok. Here goes. I’m pretty sure I’m bisexual.”

Conner seemed out of breath and averted his eyes and, Tim wanted to tell him it was okay, that he wasn’t weirded out or anything but…he was appalled to find out that he was. At the same time the thoughts that should have and did run through his head like “wasn’t Conner Straight? When had he realized he wasn’t? How had he realized he wasn’t?” went silenced by the shock.But as the seconds ticked by, he saw his best friend shrink on himself and preparing himself to leave, obviously thinking something along the lines of “I knew it was going to end up like this” and Tim was horrified at its truth. And before he realized it, his hands grabbed Conner’s right arm.

Conner looked up, surprised, and Tim cringed a little, lifting his hands, which in turn made Conner cringe and, really, there was way too much cringing for Tim’s tastes and he hated that he was responsible for it.He didn’t know what to say. So he settled for the truth.

“Look, you’re right. I’m weirded out.  But that’s not you that makes me cringe. It’s the fact that I’m weirded out in the first place.” He paused and tried to catch Conner’s eyes, wanting to hold onto his best friend. So his hands went back to Conner’s forearms, holding on for dear life. “Conner, you know you’re the most important person in my life. I mean technically Bruce and Dick are too but with how things are between us, they’ve definitely left 1st place right now. So I might need time to adjust. In part because I have questions like, how did you realize? ‘cause as far as I know, you’ve always been as straight as I am…Though this probably doesn’t work anymore.” Tim could hear himself babble and tried to get back on track.“Look the point is, it’s good. I obviously have an issue, and I realize that now so I can work on it. And if my best friend isn’t a good enough reason for it, then what is? You know, aside from being a decent human being.”

And Tim’s grip tightened more and more around his friend’s forearms. Because one of Tim’s biggest fears was losing his best friend again, in any shape or form and he wasn’t going to let anything, be it a problematic point of vue, get in the way of one of the best things that had happened in his life. And bonus point, Conner seemed to have relaxed a little. At this moment he looked like he needed a hug so bad and, damn, he was already uncomfortable with the idea of giving hugs in the first place (he liked receiving them, loved it even but wasn’t used to initiating them) and this was worse. Why was it worse? Why was it such a big issue for him? It’s not like he really cared who others were attracted to so why was he so uncomfortable when it touched him if it didn’t come from girls, even if it was actually about his best friend. And he was so lost in thoughts he hadn’t realized it when he started speaking.

“Can you give me a hug? I mean I know technically you’re the one who needs it but you know I’ve never really been able to, go for it, and…”

So yeah, Tim hadn’t realized he had started talking until he was engulfed in a bear hug and while it took him longer than usual to relax and return the hug, he still did and that’s what had scared them both, the question they had wanted to know the answer to. Would Tim ever be able to actually get over it? Would things ever truly be okay between them and, if the hug meant anything, it was that it would happen soon enough.

Bonus:

As Tim and Conner settled on the couch a dozen minutes later, Conner kept his hold on Tim while trying to let it be slightly loose, as if to reassure himself his best friend was not going to run away from him. Now that they were in a more comfortable position, Tim started asking some of the questions that had been running through his head.

“So…How and when did you realize you were Bi? Because you’ve always worn your straightness to the point of being quite sexist.”

Conner pretended to think about it, or at least, Tim pretty sure he was pretending as it had probably been quite the concept to think about.

“Well I knew I had a bad case of the Bi when I started being attracted to the AssHat”, Tim rolled his eyes at Conner’s awful pun and was almost mortified by the fact that he actually got Conner’s joke about Zachary Zatara. “Because it couldn’t have been anything else…maybe except frustration. I think I might have started to notice it before I died, without actually noticing it you know. It was that time I said I didn’t want to hold hands…”

Tim startled a little at that and tried to lift his head to look at Conner’s face but merely went from his arm to his chin.

“Oh, that’s why? It was pretty surprising because you never seemed to care before, on the contrary, you were pretty proud to get to show off.”

Conner laughed slightly.

“Yeah I didn’t use to, to be fair you were way more scrawny, no offense”.

Tim smiled wryly, which Conner couldn’t see. He was pretty sure his best friend knew the smile was there though since he continued.

“So as you’ve realized I mostly noticed I wasn’t straight after I came back. And before you ask, the reason I started acting weird last week instead of, well any time before, was because I realized I’m really, truly completely attracted to guys the same way I’m attracted to girls. As in, even my friends are no exceptions…except Bart but that’s for other reasons. And that’s because I noticed you had, in fact, gotten attractive when you fell asleep on my shoulder. It was really embarrassing to think of my best friend as, as hot as Rose is you know”;

Okay so, right moment, wrong conclusion. Tim was ashamed to admit his shoulders stiffened at the mention but he retaliated by holding onto Conner harder. His best friend who had frozen at Tim’s reaction seemed as satisfied as one could be by the situation as he continued.

“So I started acting weirdly as soon as I woke up the day after but since there had been an emergency with the Riddler, you were already gone. And you know it just got weird because it was fine as a “distant” kind of attraction. ‘Cause it’s one thing to make out with strangers, it’s another to realize your closed ones are also susceptible to attracting you. And then it made me question things, like would I end up treating you guys like I do girls? Which, in turn, forced me to reflect on everything Cassie or Roxy ever told me about how sexist I was.And since we’re talking about that, you know I spoke to Huntress that time we helped out against Ra’s Al Ghul and apparently your White Knight syndrome was pretty bad back then. I mean you still have it but in way more nuanced.”

Tim frowned and detangled himself from his best friend in order to actually look him in the eye.

“What do you mean White Knight Syndrome ?”

Conner looked back (and down, damn his height) at him, surprised.

“You didn’t know? That or Knights in Shining Armor are usually used when guys think that, girls need someone to help them because they’re girls, and of course the guys have to be the ones to help them. Like, you know when you see a guy and a girl argue you almost always automatically assume the girl’s being aggressed and fly to her rescue. That one has always been a biiig pet peeve of Cassie.Some of it is hard to notice because you’re naturally paternalistic with almost everyone…Except me ‘cause I kept telling you off”.

They paused in order to settle themselves again, Tim’s face laying on Conner’s right shoulder while Conner held onto him, both trying not to look at each other too much. Neither was willing to complain though and there was no better way either of them could think of for Tim and Conner to get used to each other again. Also, they both loved hugs and that definitely helped.Then Tim startled.

“Wait, if that’s the case then how come no one ever told me?”

Conner looked at him like he was an idiot, or tried to. Tim wasn’t exactly in a position that made it easy for Conner to look at him. It took a few seconds for Tim to get its meaning then he added:

“I meant the sexist thing, not the paternalist one. It’d be hard to forget all our arguments about that back in Young Justice. Not that I’m complaining since they’re probably part of the reason why we’ve become best friends.”

And that was true. It also added the bonus of satisfying his best friend. Or at least, his shoulders relaxed. Not the rest because he didn’t seem to want to let go, as if he was afraid Tim’d run away. It was weird but he did still want to run away a little and that was even weirder so he forced himself to settle his head back on his Clone Boy’s shoulder before starting to slightly relax again.

“Well for Huntress, and most adults I suppose, it was fun to watch baby you think they needed your help, in a very endearing way”, Conner tried to prevent his snicker but couldn’t manage as he detangled himself from Tim to look at the pout he was sure the Wonder Boy would be showing. He continued nonetheless.

“As for the others, it’s because you often end up being right so I don’t think they really notice it besides ‘Damn Rob’s being his paternalistic self again. Double Damn he’s right again!’”

Now Tim was just trying to hide himself in Conner’s chest, becoming more stressed out by the minute.

“So I’m homophobic, sexist? What next? You’re gonna tell me I’m racist?”

Conner stilled for a second before forcing Tim to look at him.

“You’re not racist. You are, however slightly xenophobic. But that’s mostly about food so I’m not sure if it really counts. Still, it’s shocking for someone who’s seen you eat pretty much anything you get your hands on.

If it helps, I’ve been known to be way worse than you on the xenophobic part, especially when I lived in Hawaii. I could be pretty awful you know…Plus the sexism thing. I’ve gotten better over the years, but I admit I kind of went backward on that after Tana’s death.”

“Yeah, I remember.” Tim paused before asking “Is there anything else I should start introspecting about and working on ?”

“Not that I know of. For the sexism stuff you should ask Cassie, or Cissie or one of your sisters rather than me though”

Tim could only acquiesce to this. Conner was obviously not the best person to ask on that particular subject. Maybe they should ask Cissie and Cassie to plan a lesson on this.He had settled back against Conner, the both of them so drained out by the evening that they were starting to fall of sleep when Conner said in a low voice :

“You know that thing with Zatara happened a couple of hours before I saw you when you came back to Gotham. To tell you the truth, that was the first time I found you consciously attractive so I thought it might not have been a good idea for me to return the hug. But then I rationalized it as simply being still shocked by my attraction to that asshole in a top hat, so it was just me transferring that attraction on you because as a person you’re way less repulsive than he is.”

Tim lifted his head to look at Conner with a deadpanned look.

“Thank you, Conner.” Before smiling and shaking his head. “You’re an idiot.”

And he closed his eyes as he settled back, content that his best friend had enough faith in him to come out despite his issues and even if the day had brought its fair share of bad news about his own behavior, he knew it was only going to be for the better on the long term.

Author’s Note: Fun Fact n°1: Tim canonically (as in: it was said in the 2011 character guide) “visits Superboy in Smallville when he wants to get away”. I mean, I despise how they characterize him as a genius (apparently it’s a post 2010/11 thing ‘cause Tim was never called a genius beforehand except for that one time in a newspaper (but I doubt the journalists knew Tim was heavily trained by the Batman)) and ’m also mad that they say “sharp detective skills” used to discover Bruce’s identity when in reality he had a good sense of deduction/induction but it’s the trauma that really allowed him the discovery. (The also legit say Tim and Kon’s friendship started in TT and like…Plz DC stop trying to erase that time of their lives).

Fun Fact n°2: This is based on IRL events from when one of my friends had their best friend come out to them. And when I say based on I mean it’s almost plagiarism.And Spoiler Alert: they have now been dating for 6 years and are happily living together in a drama free, loving and supportive household -which is the both of them and their cat and their dog and their hamster. And that’s what I want for Tim and Kon (for anyone really, everyone deserves a happy and healthy relationship).You know, I often see fanfics about people being entirely accepting or rejecting of people coming out but I rarely see this. When the person is, in theory, pro-equality and truly believes in it but grew up in a hostile environment and they end up having this sort of avoidance reflex. Especially when it comes to homophobia, the person’s always thinking it’s wrong because it’s what they learned and, it is a common type but I thought the kind I wrote here is also dangerous even if it’s more easily surmountable. Plus you know the hug-otherapy (calinothérapie as my friend calls it) was just too adorable to pass out on.

Fun Fact n°3: Kansas’ an hour behind New Jersey so it’s not that I suck at maths XD

Fun Fact n°4: I think the obvious choice for the prompt would be Kon. But I like contradictions so I felt like Tim should say it because…Well, it does fit even in a lesser way. In the end, I felt like I should have them both say it (or, you know, have one of them say it while clearly stating the other’s the one all the readers would have expected).

Ironically I had written most of this when the discourse about Tim’s sexism came out on Tumblr and I applaud the coincidence XD.

BTW I’m still looking for more Betas so if you’re interested don’t hesitate to send me a message

I hope you enjoyed it

[princess--cynthia]

SEDUCTION || THREAD ARCHIVE

Participant(s): Cynthia, @deintegro​ / Robin

Words: 7,375

Type: S-Support

Summary: Growing tired of Robin’s apparent idiocy, Cynthia decides to reveal her affections for him in a more direct manner. 

Content Warning: Smut

Cynthia wasn’t known for her patience, and to her credit she had tried this time. Really, she had. But it seemed that Robin’s genius didn’t extend to picking up on social cues in general. Especially when she hadn’t exactly been subtle about it - come on, she’d grabbed his face and said that she didn’t want to lose him. What in Naga’s name did he THINK she meant? Which was why she was now doing something that would give her sister and parents a heart attack if they knew the specifics. Part of blackmailing Severa into silence about the clothes they’d bought together for this was going to bite her in the ass in a few months, but that didn’t matter. Still, at least green lace was flattering on her. …the novelty of lying on her side staring at the door in her smallclothes with a come hither look on her face had faded around one hour in. He must be working late again - gods, that wasn’t healthy. Thankfully she’d remembered his tendency to do that and had brought a book - which she’d finished twenty minutes ago. Now she was just lying on her back and staring at the ceiling, huffing occasionally. He better show up soon, or else she’d have to start rifling through here for books. Finally -finally! - she heard someone step into the tent. Praying that it was just Robin, she turned back onto her side and tossed the covers away, thanking her decision to put her hair down from her normal pigtails for this. “Hey. Want some company?”

Late. Again. Robin was no stranger to long nights, in fact he considered himself to be very well acquainted with the fabled “all-nighter”, but the past few days had proven to be particularly taxing, both physically and mentally. The tactician dragged his feet as he slowly meandered across the small encampment toward his personal tent. Resources while on tour were always stretched thin, but the acting quarter master had always made a point of providing Robin with his  own private living quarters, a luxury that was usually only afforded by the blue bloods among the militia group. For this courtesy, the tactician was most grateful. With his constantly varying work hours and his insomnia, Robin doubted very much that any of the Shepherds would covet having him as a tent mate for very long. With a yawn and a half-hearted stretch, the strategist had reached his destination. With any luck, his mind would be kind and allow for his bed to warmly receive his weary  body for a rare, good night’s sleep. Upon entering the tent, however, it has seemed that someone else has already beaten him to it. “Hey,” Cynthia called out, in a voice that was almost sultry as she lay comfortably on her side in nothing but her small clothes, “Want some company?” An awkward silence ensued as Robin clumsily attempted to make his way through the thick mental fog produced by his fatigue and make any sense of this…situation. His messenger bag slipped from his slumped shoulders and landed on the ground with a dull ’thud’, the sound provoking a moment of lucidity. “C-Cynthia? What are you doing? This…This is my tent,” Robin stammered his normally pale cheeks rapidly taking on colour. This was his tent…right? He couldn’t have been so tired that he made the mistake in entering Cynthia’s…? Right? He found himself staring, for much longer than he intended to actually and this realization only served to fluster the youth even further. “I-I’m really sorry,” he cried, rushing to shield his eyes with his right arm, “I didn’t mean to…,”

“It’s your tent. I snuck in.” Cynthia admitted, standing up and putting perhaps a little more sway in her step than strictly necessary before reaching up to gently pull his arm down, smiling. Well, he hadn’t outright rejected her, so…so far so good. “Besides, there’s nothing to be sorry about. I did this on purpose~”

She didn’t kiss him, he hadn’t consented or anything. That would be crossing a line. But standing there, lips slightly parted and far closer to him than some would deem appropriate, even his idiotic approach to reading other people should tell him what her intentions and desires were.

“What’s wrong, am I the first one you’ve seen like this?”

She was close. Almost too close.

The girl’s proximity sending his already addled mind spinning and his heart racing. Cynthia made no mistake, she had made a point of entering his tent and supposedly, if the tactician heard correctly, choseto  dress like this. “What’s wrong, am I the first one you’ve seen like this?” she asked him, a small smile playing on her plush lips. A part of Robin was glad that her gaze was locked on his face, perhaps then she would fail to notice that his legs were trembling. It had to have been the fatigue - the fatigue and the shock, that had caused his legs to shake so. He didn’t want to admit it, but - if he elected to omit the occasional accident - this was the first time he got to see so much of anyone. Instead of nodding, he swallowed, a naïve part of him hoping that the action would help calm his heart, which, at the moment, was banging ferociously against his rib cage.

Why?

He was certain that given her closeness, that Cynthia could probably hear the damned organ beating herself.

“Why?” he whispered, his voice hoarse, “What are you doing?” The questions were rhetorical. Robin wasn’t so hopeless that he couldn’t put everything together for an answer. The clues had been left out for a while, like a trail of breadcrumbs, but a trail that he refused to follow. It didn’t make any sense. Why would anyone want to get this close?

“Why? Because I wanted to.” Cynthia shrugged, one hand reaching up to cup his face as she frowned, momentarily concerned - maybe he was ill? She shrugged slightly, deciding that it was probably just his nerves rather than an active response to her, hand dropping away from his cheek to tilt her head. “As for what I’m doing? Well…”

She spread her arms and took a step back hopelessly, showing herself off theatrically again. “…I’m trying to seduce you. Seriously, how have you not picked up on that? I’ve been trying for months!”

Maybe she shouldn’t have just come out and said it, but she was getting more than a little frustrated with his confusion and stammered responses. Eventually she had to just cut to the freaking chase.

Robin opened his mouth to reply but nothing came. Instead he lowered his gaze, suddenly finding himself unable to look directly at the woman in front of him, and passed his fingers once through his hair. Of course she was. As much as the tactician tried to deny it, everything leading up to this moment made sense. He thought back to that sunny afternoon on the hill, when the two sat idly beneath a great, leafy, oak tree and exchanged tales from the pages of old books. What Cynthia had said back then stood out clearly in his mind, but now, with her indirect confession, they took on a completely different meaning. Of course.

Of course she didn’t want to lose him. He could never understand it…why anyone would care for him enough to actually love him, but he respected the Pegasus knight enough to avoid invalidating her feelings. “I’m so sorry,” Robin said at last, “I didn’t mean to deny you…I just..,”

“Hello. Half-naked woman, waiting an actual response here.” Cynthia groaned, snapping her fingers in front of the tactician’s face and frowning. Seriously, whatever he was thinking of better not be an excuse that invalidated all of her hard work.

She wouldn’t mind if he didn’t want to be with her. Well, she would, but that was his choice and he deserved to get to make it. What she did mind - legitimately - was that he was making her stand on cold ground, in what was rapidly becoming obvious to her as too lacy smallclothes as she tried desperately to get a reply. “Look, here’s a simpler way of putting it. Do you want to go on a date with me, yes or no. Second question: Do you want to sleep with me, yes or no. Both are on the table here.”

If it was at all possible for his the redness of his burning cheeks to deepen, they would have. Cynthia, to her credit, was never one to mince words, even when it was her intention to tread more lightly about more sensitive topics. It was something that Robin appreciated. It was all too often that others took to enrobing truths with vague, empty words and verbal fluff. Her words forced Robin  out of the web of his own thoughts and returned to him to the present.

The here and now. He was alarmed by the horripilation that was all too apparent on Cynthia’s flesh. A pang of guilt crashing into his chest like a wave. How long had she been like this? Waiting for him barely dressed in an unheated tent on the perimeter of a modest encampment in the Valmese wilderness.  Without a word, Robin shrugged off his robe and gently wrapping the heavy fabric around the girl’s slight shoulders. Still very much as the mercy of his nerves, he pulled Cynthia into a tight and awkward embrace. Cheeks brushed together as Robin moved to speak softly into Cynthia’s ear, “Please,” he began, in a hushed tone that barely broke a whisper, “do promise me that you won’t let me hurt you.”

“Huh? Thanks.” Cynthia blinked, taking the cloak but not quite sure if that was an answer or a distraction while he was thinking. The hug he pulled her into, however, most likely wasn’t.

“Please.” She snorted, nuzzling at his cheek with her head. “If I thought you were going to hurt me, I’d leave you in an instant. No offense.”

It was true - she wasn’t stupid enough to let herself stay in a bad relationship, not twice. At the same time, she wasn’t going to let Robin decide when and how the relationship had turned bad - that was her choice to make, but she’d let him know that if he ever shrugged her off.

Her voice softened, knowing how much the question must have meant to him. “I promise, okay? Now…can you answer mine? Properly, maybe?”

Robin took a moment for himself, to allow for the experience of holding Cynthia so closely to sink in. To take in her scent, her warmth, to strain his senses just enough to catch the sound of her heart beating. A gentle squeeze and a drawn out sigh. The tactician pulled away slightly, and looked down at the girl that he held so closely in his arms. The corners of his lips curled up slightly, into the smallest of smiles and he nodded a few times before finally mustering the courage to accompany the gesture with his voice.

“Y-Yes…I do - very much,” he replied at last.

To have said even that much, felt more energy consuming than the rest of the day had. Robin pulled Cynthia back up against his chest and buried his face in her hair. The faint scent of gardenia lingered in her cobalt locks. Whether or not that was the case or if it was simply a trick of the mind - the result of the strategist coming to associate the woman with the fragrant flower - didn’t matter. The olfactory illusion left his mind in haze, with one foot planted firmly in reality and the other in dreaming.  

“Yay.” Cynthia let out an audible sigh of relief. Well, at least she hadn’t made a complete fool out of herself for nothing, just one that had ended up working. She let herself rest her head against his chest, shuddering under his robe more from the cold than anything else as she breathed him in.

Of course he smelled like paper and that horrible ink they use for maps and journals here in Valm. She had to resist the urge to laugh, really. It was almost too fitting for him. She tilted her head up to look at him as he rested his head in her hair, smiling.

“Hey…you mind if I sleep here tonight? I’m kinda freezing and, uh, I’m on the other side of camp.”

Cynthia’s trembling was easily perceptible even beneath the thick fabric of his cloak and so her words came as no surprise to the tactician. “A-Ah! I’m sorry,” Robin said, suddenly breaking away from the embrace and looking very apologetic. After all, in some ways, it was his fault that she was in such a state. Without really meaning to, he looked the woman over, his gaze not so subtly travelling up and down, out of the corner of his eye.  There was no way Cynthia could go gallivanting about in just that. It was entirely out of the question. For a moment, he wondered where her clothes were, surely she didn’t sneak into his tent in nothing but her small clothes - and certainly not in ones as…provocative as the ones she currently sported. “Of course…you can stay,” he said, “actually, I insist. It’s really chilly after all, and…” Robin let the last of his words evanesce into the dead air of silence, not all too sure of what he was saying himself.  

Her dress was haphazardly hidden under his bed, but there was no point telling him that. It was just detrimental to what she was trying to pull, after all - and that was when a thought came to her mind, Robin’s only warning a surprisingly shark-like smile.

“So, you said yes to the dating bit.” She said, even as she rapidly retreated to the bed and the promised warmth that the blankets gave, dropping his robe casually once her back was turned on him. Glancing back over her shoulder, she couldn’t help but wink at him as she turned. “What about the other bit? Got any energy left?”

Robin should have known from the spark that flashed in Cynthia’s eyes of the dangers that accompanied that fiendish smile of hers. “So, you said yes to the dating bit,” she said a bit too sweetly as she approached his narrow cot. The tactician’s heart seemed to follow the trajectory of his robe, and he felt it sink into the pits of his stomach as the woman tossed the article of clothing onto the floor.  His heart didn’t linger in its position for long, because the teasing look Cynthia that gave him over her shoulder sent it shooting right up into his throat. “What about the other bit? Got any energy left?” “The other bit…?” Robin asked as he trailed after the woman, the meaning behind the Pegasus rider’s words having yet to filter through the syrupy haze of his sleep deprived mind.

A few seconds later, it dawned on him, the realization hitting him like a tonne of tomes. His face took on a vibrant mantle and his legs feeling as though they took on the consistency of jelly. The tactician brought up a hand to cover his mouth, completely beside himself. “I-I’ve never - th-that sort of thi-thing…I-I don’t have any idea,” he stammered, the sheer intensity of his mortification causing him to stumble over his words.

Robin had never even kissed anyone much less…that.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle.” Cynthia ‘assured’ him as she slipped into bed, rolling to face him with a wiggle of her eyebrows. If he didn’t want to go through with it they wouldn’t, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t have fun. “Hey, relax. We don’t need to if you’re going to be uncomfortable.”

It was going to be warmer once he was in the same bed, though, she’d admit that much as she shivered again. Next time, forget the lingerie - she was coming in her actual, fluffy and warm pajamas, regardless of whether or not they looked sexy. She could settle for vaguely cute and warm any day of the week.

“Either way, just hurry up would you? I’m freezing.” She disappeared under his blanket, wondering if he’d be relieved or slightly disappointed that he couldn’t see her body anymore. “Seriously, I’m going to need my tactician-shaped hot water bottle soon.”

The sound of rustling blankets filled the tent as Cynthia slipped into his bed, her slim figure swallowed up by the sheets and vanishing out of sight. Robin sighed, the act of hiding away her figure did help to calm his nerves but a less wholesome part of him of him mourned the “loss” at the back of his mind. While not one to indulge in ones more basal desires, there was no way that the tactician could deny that Cynthia was actually quite attractive. When the burning in his cheeks subsided a little, Robin slowly lowered his hand and smiled gently in response to the woman’s mock whining, “A-Alright, alright,” he said, finally deferring to Cynthia’s request as he went to retrieve his robe from the carpeted tent floor, “Just let me get the lamp first.”   Robin draped his robe over the back of his chair and leaned over to extinguish the flame emitted by the oil lamp that sat on his desk. When the flame was snuffed out a wash of blackness took over the tent, leaving the tactician temporarily blinded until his eyes could acclimate. He didn’t need to wait for his eyes to adjust to catch the dim light of the moon poking at the breaches in the canvas, as Robin had long ago created a mental map of his tent’s layout in his head. He considered him to be an organized person, and so each time the company stopped to camp, his belongings and furnishings would always be placed in their designated location. He took confident steps toward the bed and slowly lowered himself onto the bed’s edge. It felt so foreign with the scantily-clad woman occupying it, a thought that kept his heart racing. As Robin slipped off his boots and deposited them in an orderly fashion at the end of the bed, but even in the dark he could have sworn that he felt Cynthia’s eyes on him. “This is…it’s alright isn’t it?” He could only take solace in the fact that at least in the dark, Cynthia would not be able to catch him blushing.

“Of course it’s alright.” Cynthia sighed, rolling her eyes helplessly. Some people just couldn’t take a hint, it seemed - much less roll with the punches once they started coming. Really, what else did he want her to do or say? She’d already given pretty express consent. She sat up and wrapped her arms around him from behind as he tugged off his boots, nuzzling at the crook of his neck before leaving a teasing kiss there.

“Seriously, Robin. Nobody’s going to flip out at you for this - well, except for my father and probably Lucina as well.” She hadn’t really thought that through, but just shrugged and dismissed it out of hand. “Come on, come to bed. You’re going to need to get some sleep, if nothing else.”

Robin heard Cynthia moving about behind him, the mattress groaning ever so slightly with the shifting of her weight. From behind him, a pair of slender arms snaked their way about his torso causing the youth to momentarily stiffen. He found himself nervously gripping at the bed sheets with clammy hands, trying in vain his hardest not to shiver as the woman’s warm breath rolled out in waves over his skin as she nuzzled against his neck. Then there was that distinctive sensation of soft, hot lips pressing exposed flesh that elicited a feeble sounding gasp from the tactician. Robin gently unhooked the arms wrapped about his waist just enough for him to turn to face his partner half-way. His palms hovered awkwardly over Cynthia’s skin for a moment, before finally settling down to rest on her shoulders. It wasn’t a novel experience, for Robin to suddenly feel less able to sleep when the lights went out - but this was different. Robin let out a shaky sigh as he lightly ran his hands along the contours of Cynthia’s shoulders and arms, a twang of guilt manifesting in his chest when he felt how cool to the touch she was. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, brushing the his knuckles loving against the woman’s cheek, “I’m really terrible.” He caught a stray lock of cobalt hair between his finger tips and tucked it behind Cynthia’s ear. The change didn’t require much effort on her part, but Cynthia really looked different with her hair down, Robin couldn’t help but feel that this was almost representative of Cynthia’s variable personality. They may not have known one another for years, but Robin knew enough of the girl to know that there was much more to her being than the spunky hero persona she pushed so much. His other hand travelled upward, his finger tips trailing across the length of her clavicle and slowly up, up, up, along her neck. Robin cupped Cynthia’s face his in hands, a hoarse laugh escaping his lips as he trembled.

“G-Gods…”

“You’re not terrible, you’re inexperienced. We’ve all been there.” Cynthia smiled, leaning into his hands as he cupped her face. She was cold, sure, but it wouldn’t be that way for much longer. Besides, she’d suffered through much worse than a slight draft.

“Gods what?” She raised an eyebrow, sliding forwards slightly as he laughed nervously. “That better be a prayer of thanks, you know. Or else I’ve wasted a lot of time building up to this.”

Before he could reply she pressed his lips against hers, softly at first as if to ease him into it before strengthening it as one hand bunched up his shirt and practically pulled him forward. A slight gasp slipped past her lips as she did so, displaying an amount of skill that certainly would have raised eyebrows from anyone that didn’t know her private life very well.

She could only hope that Robin didn’t see it as a bad thing.

A flinch and a muffled gasp accompanied the kiss. Cynthia had taken the initiative and did what Robin was too afraid to do - to take the plunge and bridge the physical distance that lay between them. Without any recollection of what is was like to kiss someone, the tactician didn’t quite know what to expect, but it didn’t take him too long to form an opinion of the experience. The sensation of the woman’s pillow-y lips gently pressed against his sent a shiver shooting up his spine and left his skin crawling with goose bumps.

One of Cynthia’s hands had made its way up to his chest, her fingers curling inward as she clutched Robin’s shirt. The youth offered no resistance when she tugged at his shirt and pulled him in closer to deepen the kiss. Quivering fingers slipped between azure tresses as Robin’s hands moved to cradle the nape of Cynthia’s neck.   Then he remembered…that he needed to breathe. With considerable reluctance, the tactician broke away from the kiss and inhaled sharply. His cheeks burned as the embarrassment set in. Cynthia already acknowledged his inexperience as something that was both expected and natural, but Robin couldn’t help but feel stupid. His eyes had since adjusted to the dark. The light of the moon that crept into the tent through open seams cast the faintest glow on the pegasus rider, and the tactician could make out a rough outline of her body’s contours.

“A-Ah, I’m sorry…I suppose that I forgot myself for a moment there,” he mumbled his gaze falling to the mattress. In his chest his heart still pounded relentlessly and his insides of his stomach still hitched with each wave of adrenaline. It was something that Robin was ashamed to admit…but while he was certainly no expert in the matter, in his opinion, Cynthia was amazing.

“That was forgetting yourself?” Cynthia couldn’t help but giggle a little at how…well, innocent he was. “Robin, please. This is what happens when someone forgets themselves.”

She shoved his shoulders so that he fell down onto his back, crawling up his chest and taking care to rub herself against him whenever possible just to get a shiver from the tactician. She pressed her lips against his again, as firm as last time, with one hand on the back of his head forcing him to lean into the kiss.

That was when she opened her mouth slightly and slipped her tongue between his lips, letting out a slight moan as she explored his mouth. Gods, she wished she could see his face right now. It must be amazing.

Pale brows knotted to reflect Robin’s confusion at Cynthia’s laughter. It was a bright, girlish laugh, very much like the twittering of birds, or the tinkling of silver in a clear pool. “I’m sorry Cynthia, but I don’t really–” a small cry escaped the tactician’s lips, abruptly cutting his reply short, when the woman seized him by the shoulders and gave him a firm push.

He then found himself lying supine on the bed facing the canopy of canvas hanging over head, one leg dangling over the edge. Before Robin could hope to correct his position, Cynthia was already on top of him, her lithe frame slithering along his body. As she travelled up to meet his face, the hem of Robin’s shirt ended up catching the lip of one of Cynthia’s bra cups and road up his torso, leaving his chest bare and expose. He couldn’t help but shudder, every time the Pegasus rider’s skin came into contact with his. There he was, caught on the border of mortification and lust, his stomach tingling with a fresh surge of adrenaline. The sensation could only be compared to the startling jolt around the navel region that one experiences during a sudden hypnagogic jerk.

Before Robin could dwell on the feeling for much longer, Cynthia initiated another kiss. Her lips felt hot against his and this time, the kiss seemed to carry more of a primal quality to it, as if the woman was driven by a ravenous hunger of another kind. Her moan sent minute vibrations abuzz in his mouth and caused the tactician’s heart to pulse frantically. As she used her hands to force him even deeper into the oral embrace, Robin had no choice but to mirror the motions of her lips.

There was a muffled gasp and a sharp intake of breath when Robin felt Cynthia’s tongue slide past his lips and enter his mouth. He lay frozen and temporarily dumbstruck as she mapped the interior of his mouth with her tongue. She ran her tongue over his palette and hungrily caressed his tongue with her own, as if she intended to drink in every single detail and eventually consume him.

Robin allowed his heavy eyelids to fall shut. In temporarily surrendering his sight his other senses gradually became more acute. The warmth of their breaths as they inhaled and exhaled through their noses. The scent of Cynthia’s hair and skin occupying Robin’s nostrils and sending his mind into free fall. The heat emanating from her smooth skin. The rushed pulses of his heart that sent blood rushing to his ears. He wanted to embrace her. Hold her evening tighter.

Always closer. Closer. Closer.

Gods it was too much.

“That’s losing yourself.” Cynthia said again, panting slightly when she finally broke away from him. Realizing that his shirt had gotten caught in her bra, she shrugged and sat upright - intentionally grinding back on his hips with her own as she did so - and unclasped the bra, letting it drop to the side with a smile. He probably couldn’t see much in the moonlight, but in a way that just made it better.

She let her hands trail over his chest, tilting her head with a raised eyebrow as she felt his heartrate. In some ways, that was a bigger compliment than the obvious would have been.

“Say something, then? Unless I’ve broken you.” Her head tilted the other way as her hands strayed down and started slowly undoing his belt, letting the gradual movements tease him as her fingers brushed against his bare waist by ‘accident’. “Which, sure, might be a thing…”

The belt dropped to the floor and she wrapped her hands around the top of his pants, fingers digging into his flesh slightly as she leaned in to press another kiss - this time, brushing her lips along his chin before stopping next to his ear.

“Do you want to do more?” She purred, nibbling an earlobe for a scant second before pulling away. “Or do you want to stop?”

Robin reluctantly opened his eyes when Cynthia’s lips parted from his. Breathless, he gazed longingly at the girlish face of the woman who hovered over. She could pry as much as she like, but Robin was completely at a loss for words. The sound of their pants, while hushed, stood out clearly against the thick silence that filled the tactician’s small tent. There was the snap that announced the unfastening of a bra, the faint clinking of metal, a collection of helpless gasps brought on by fingers tasting flesh, and the dull thud of leather hitting the carpeted floor. With her body outlined by the silver light of the moon, Cynthia moved with a certain degree of confidence, like that of a skilled predator pursuing its prey.

When her fingers grazed his bare skin as they curled about the waist of his pants, Robin could not help but squirm. She had to know what she was doing to him. This couldn’t have been by accident. A noise falling somewhere between a moan and a gasp tumbled out from between Robin’s semi-parted lips when Cynthia leaned in for another kiss, her knuckles rolled in against his lower abdomen and her exposed breasts pressed against his chest with the shifting of her weight. The kiss was short lived, almost teasing. Her lips migrated from the youth’s mouth to his chin, and then made an airy trail along his jaw line and up toward his ear.

He couldn’t tell if he had just begun shaking, or if he had been shaking all along, but he was certain that Cynthia words did nothing to help matters. “Do you want to do more?” she whispered, her voice practically dripping with lust.

Robin completely lost it when his lover’s lips closed around his earlobe, her teeth gently clamping down on the surprisingly erogenous area. He grimaced, forced his eyes shut and rushed to flatted the back of his hand against his mouth in a sad attempt to stifle his moans. “Or do you want to stop?”

Stop?

This was something that Cynthia worked toward for months, and yet she was willing to stop for his sake. The tactician lay motionless for a few moments, save the slight rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. Robin exhaled deeply, as though letting go of a great burden and wrapped his arms about Cynthia’s slight frame, pulling her in close. He couldn’t face her as he was, and so he buried his face into the crook of her neck, so close that his eyelashes would brush against her skin whenever he blinked, and nodded timidly. He was safe like this. “Pl-Please,” he whispered, “I want…I want to be able to do this for you, but I’ve never done this before…a-and I don’t know how. I’m sorry, I’m truly inexperienced, but to compensate, please use me as you desire.”

“Alright. Tell me if you want to stop.” Cynthia told him again, kissing his cheek before reaching over to grab his hands. She let her fingers wrap around his for a moment, lips brushing against his, before she pulled them towards her. “Come on, you can touch. Give it a try.”

Resting his hands on her chest - and holding them there for a moment so that he knew this was okay, gods he was being thick right now - she pulled down his trousers, rolling her hips against his again and grinning when she felt him.

“Not long now…” She muttered, sliding her smallclothes off and resting just above his waist, completely naked as she tilted her head. “Are you ready?”

Robin swallowed nervously when Cynthia pressed his hands against her chest. With her bare breasts resting in the palms of his hands, he could feel her nipples growing erect. Gingerly, he tentatively circled his thumb pads about the firm tissue, kneading the woman’s breasts with his free fingers. He could feel the blush on his cheeks darken as a less than pure image bobbed up to the surface of his thoughts. There was this strange, almost carnal desire to close his lips around Cynthia’s nipples, to suck them, to nibble, to caress her skin lovingly with his tongue and to taste her flesh. The Gods were kind to have the couple shrouded in darkness, for Robin feared that in the light, the look on his face would give everything away.

The intensity and nature of his thoughts only escalated when Cynthia pulled down his trousers, sliding the article of clothing over his hips, down past his trembling thighs and leaving them to rest around his knees. He lay under her, completely unveiled, the erection that had previously decided to pitch a tent in his trousers now painfully out in the open.  Before Robin could fret over his exposed state or mourn the withdrawal of Cynthia’s chest from his hands, he keened when she grinded her hips against his groin. “Not long now…” she purred seductively as she slipped out of her smallclothes and straddled the tactician, her thighs resting on either side of his waist.

Cynthia was completely naked, and yet in the dark it appeared as though she were clad in a raiment of shadow and moonlight. Her outline and contours were clearly defined, but the darkness still left enough to the imagination. In some ways, Robin found it to be much more alluring. There was always a certain degree of mystery in the dark. It was a challenge that had always appealed to him. Together they would cut through the shroud of uncertainty and highlight that which lay beneath it all. A curtain of sapphire hair fell away from Cynthia’s face as she cocked her head suggestively to one side. “Are you ready?”

Robin reached for the woman with his hands, the tips of his fingers landing at the base of her rib cage before slowly trailing down her stomach. “I…I love you very much Cynthia…I hope that you know,” he stated softly as he passed his fingers over her hipbones and along the top of her thighs.

“While doing this…I want to be able to make sure that it feels as good for you as possible.”

He paused, the silence only penetrated by the sound of their breaths and the occasional faint groan of the cot mattress whenever Cynthia shifted her weight. The corner of Robin’s lips jerked up into a weak smile, “I want you. I want to please you. Please teach me.”  

“Don’t worry.” Cynthia purred again, gasping as his fingers curved around her breasts. It had been a while since she’d had a partner be so…well, gentle with her. One night stands didn’t exactly equate to lovemaking. It was nice.

“I love you too.” She grinned, running one hand along his erection before raising her hips and guiding him to her entrance, breathing heavily. “Don’t worry, I’ll do all the work. Just tell me when you’re close, I really don’t need to get pregnant…”

She slowly lowered herself onto him with small gasps and moans of pleasure, closing her eyes and biting her lips as she moved. One hand rested on his chest, slowly curling into a fist while the other one moved from his crotch to her own chest, kneading a breast as she finished sinking onto him. Once she was finally - finally - down to the hilt she leaned forwards to press a light kiss on his lips, grinning.

“How does it feel?”

The sensation was unlike anything he had ever experienced. It was an all encompassing feeling, one that threatened to swallow him whole if he allowed it - and allow it he did. Overwhelmed, Robin squirmed beneath Cynthia, his fingers clutching desperately at his bed sheets as she slowly lowered herself onto him. The warmth and wetness came as a surprise to the youth, who now fought to suppress the urge to moan that came with each of Cynthia’s minute muscular contractions, as she slid further down along his length.

The sight of her groping her own chest and the noises that accompanied the motion were nearly enough to drive him over the edge. The racing of his heart prior to this moment was nothing in comparison to the arterial gallop he endured at present. She had rested one hand on his chest, her nails lightly grazing his skin as fingers curled inward to form a fist. There was no way that she could have missed how frantically his heart clamoured against his chest.

Robin closed his eyes and let out a long, shuddering, gasp when Cynthia had finally taken in all of him. The muscles between his shoulders tensing slightly as his neck arched slightly and his head titled back. He felt her hair spilling onto his shoulders as she leaned in for a light kiss. Before he could return the kiss with one of his own, he felt Cynthia’s lips curving into a smile. “How does it feel?” she asked, a hint of anticipation colouring her voice.

Where did one even begin? In the messy fog of his senses, Robin had determined that the question had to be a rhetorical one. She knew how he must be feeling. She had to. Robin parted his lips to utter a reply, only to let out a pathetic noise that came off as a mix between a moan and a whimper.    

“That good, huh?” Cynthia groaned, hands resting flat on his chest as she slowly started to move her hips, arching her back and closing her eyes as she let out another soft moan. As long as he remembered to warn her, she’d be fine. Hells, she wouldn’t even mind not finishing - just tonight, at least.

It was likely a good thing that she wasn’t approaching him as roughly as she normally did, from his reactions it seemed like the tactician wouldn’t be able to handle it. Instead she focused on long, slowly motions - raising and sinking her hips along his length with what to her was almost painful speed.

“Touch me.” She whispered, guiding one hand to her rear and the other to her waist as she kept moving. “Feel me out, Robin…don’t be afraid. I want it.”

“Touch me,” she whispered, her tone was almost imploring.

While settling into a steady yet gentle pace, Cynthia took hold of Robin’s wrists and desperately positioned his hands on her person, “Feel me out,“ she pleaded, "Robin…don’t be afraid. I want it.”

Much like a deer in head lights, Robin froze for a few moments, at a complete loss at how to proceed. He struggled to think, but it proved to be quite difficult to keep his head above water as he was met with waves of pleasure that came about with the rhythmic grinding of Cynthia’s hips.

To his relief, however, his hands moved on their own, as if guided by pure instinct. The hand that had once occupied the pegasus knight’s waist, had now drifted to her rear. His fingers hungrily dug into the ample flesh as his arms strained in time with her motions, pulling her toward him in an attempt to deepen each thrust. This wasn’t enough. His body craved more. He wanted her as close to him as possible. He wanted her entirely.

"Cynthia please…please”

“Please?” Cynthia tilted her head, a slight gasp coming from her mouth. Well if that wasn’t permission, she didn’t know what was. She rested her hands on his chest to steady herself as she pulled her back straight, taking a deep breath before smiling. “Well, alright…”

She abandoned her slower pace entirely, becoming more aggressive than she had earlier as she started bouncing up and down on his lap. Every bounce ended in an audible smack of flesh, and the woman groaned in pleasure, her nails digging into Robin’s chest slightly as her hands curved.  

“B-better?” She asked through another gasp, staring into his eyes. At this rate, she might break the poor man.

Robin could have sworn that for an instant, he had caught a glimpse of a glimmer passing over his lover’s eyes. Perhaps it was a mistake for him to have begged Cynthia for more  - but there was no time for him to retract his wishes, that and the fact that a primal part of him certainly welcomed whatever more the woman had to offer. The slow and gentle pace she had set previously had been discarded entirely and was now replaced by a fervent rhythm. “Cynthi–Oh Gods!” Robin whispered sharply after a shuddering intake of breath.

That he was able to properly form his words, let alone find the space to breathe between his desperate cries, was a miracle. Robin’s heart ran much too quickly for him to count the beats as his pulse had been reduced to a constant string of drumming. Although his fingers frantically grabbed at his bed sheets, they found no purchase and Robin was pitched wholly into the deluge of overwhelming sensation. His hands now found themselves on the small of Cynthia’s back, his nails raking at the while flesh and leaving a trail of bright pink welts in their wake.

The volume of his moans afforded the man a few moments of clarity and he suddenly grew self conscious and attempted to silence himself by closing his lips about his wrist and biting down. Being overhead quickly became a secondary concern however when Robin noticed the muscles in along his thighs twitch spastically as he approached his limit. He released his wrist from his mouth,  placed his hands on Cynthia’s thighs and pushed against them weakly.

“I-I don’t think - I can any l-longer,” he breathed.

Cynthia laughed lightly at Robin’s reaction, especially when he actually ended up biting his wrist to stay quiet. It wasn’t mocking, just…amused. The poor man was so clearly out of his depth that it was rapidly becoming kind of hilarious to her. She ran one hand along his cheek, cupping it slightly even as she continued to build up speed.

“Robin, gods…” She mumbled, breath hitching in her throat as she tried to speak. It wasn’t to last, sadly, and the instant that Robin warned her she slid off of him with practiced ease.

“Yeah. Let’s not do the kids thing yet.” She smiled, planting a quick kiss on his lips before sliding down his body. She took a brief moment to reflect on the very real possibility that Robin hadn’t even heard of a blowjob before, before shrugging and deciding to keep going anyway. Her lips wrapped around his tip, head bobbing up and down - just slightly. She wanted to keep some of her skills a surprise for later, all she was aiming for was to finish him off. She pulled away once he climaxed, not letting him see the results as she dabbed her face clean. Glancing up at him, she wasn’t surprised to see him already lapsing into sleep, a smile on her face. 

“Heh. We can work on your stamina another time.” She giggled, crawling along his body and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Night, Robin. See you in the morning...”

[ally-127]

recording studio

genre: romance; angst and fluff

pairing: female reader x JB

summary: a simple series of events when you find jaebum in his studio after 5 days of his mysterious absence from home.

warnings: suggestive content

word count: 3.8k

you weren’t the biggest fan of the piercing cold of seoul.

but you were most definitely in need of seeing him.

so you just had to endure the cold.

your leather ankle boots weren’t made to suit this weather but regardless, you trudged through the hardened snow of the outdoor parking lot. it was too late at night you just weren’t bothered to park in the underground car park.

jaebum was in the studio burning midnight fuel—or rather, weekly fuel—working on songs to incorporate into an upcoming album, whether solo or not, you didn’t know. you didn’t want to be at your shared apartment all alone like the you’ve been for the past five days so you might as well just be in the studio with him.

it was pitch black out, as it’d been since 5pm this afternoon. you relied on the glow of the streetlights to light up your path to the entrance of the concrete building. smoke drifted out your lips from your breathing, your heart beating steadily in your chest.

you pushed past the heavy glass door that led into the large concrete buliding. late nights were a rare occasion for anyone to be present in such a vacant building, a place unlikely for a music studio to be built in. that was the exact intention of the producers, in order to avoid stalkerish fanatics.

pressing the button to the floor on the lift was hard when there were plastic bags of takeout hanging from your hands. you struggled for a little before managing to get the correct number. you waited, your converses tapping against the ground of the elevator impatiently.

you were frustrated that he hasn’t been home for days.

that he didn’t bother to tell you about it.

that he probably didn’t even notice he was neglecting his own health.

you stopped in front of the familiar door of his studio, contemplating what you wanted to say to him. five days he hadn’t said a word to you. not a single text nor call from him you weren’t sure how to react when you saw his face again.

clingy was definitely not what you were. it was simply worry and concern that came naturally from a person whose significant other hasn’t been home for five days. and someone who had no clue where on earth he was since then.

until today.

your hands found the courage to grip the door handle and push it down. this location was so discrete no password was needed in order to enter. you took a single, deep breath before stepping in.

he had his back faced towards you. he was bent over the desk of control panels and his computer intently. his head was propped on his hand while he stared at the curved screen in front of him. the screen displayed a series of bars that represented the different sounds and harmonies he assembled to create a song. his dark, overgrown hair was unruly from stress. his ankle was crossed over his knee, a posture that he always in when he was indecisive.

jaebum worked far too hard but he’d been like this since forever, you were used to it. you just needed to give him a balance. a balance between the time for work and for himself.

as much as you denied it, you wanted him to make time for you too.

the chair he sat on creaked when he turned around to face where the sound of the closing the door originated, behind you. his feline eyes widened in surprise as they focused on you. he braced his hands on the arm rests of his chair, mouth opening and closing as if he didn’t know what he had to say.

“im jaebeom,” you muttered. you barely called him by his full name but at this point you felt like you needed to. “where the fuck have you been?”

“i was here,” he said matter-of-factly. you caught him holding back a flinch upon hearing his full name and the vulgarity of words that left your lips.

he hid it well though.

like the weather outside he was distant, cold.

a familiar feeling, if you were honest.

“and you didn’t bother to tell me?” you asked quietly.

you sat yourself down on the leather couch right opposite mostly to prevent from falling to your knees. you closed your eyes, took in a few more breaths, and continued. “i didn’t even receive a single text from you.”

“i’m sorry,” he said. “but i’ve been really damn busy.”

“yeah, no shit.” you spat, unable to contain your frustration no longer. you set the takeout roughly on the table with a light bang.

“i really have,” he stood from his seat, his height casting a silhouette on you.

you glanced up at him, at his tousled, black strands of hair. he wore no jewellery except the ring on his index finger that you gifted him, as he did whenever he’s working privately. his tired eyes bore no emotion, lips pressed in a firm line to make you aware that his patience was running thin. the dark under-eye circles were evidence of how much sleep he’d lost over the past month.

“all i needed,“ you closed your eyes to get a grip of yourself. “was one single call. but no, nothing from you.”

“i told you—“

“it’s been really damn difficult to be at home,” you gritted your teeth as you let everything that you’ve been feeling pour out from your system. “when i have to wait till three am for you to come home, only to find out you weren’t even going to.”

those delusional nights were the nights that you felt more insecure than you’ve ever been. maybe your lover had found someone else. maybe you just weren’t good enough.

but it wasn’t like that.

he kneeled down in front of you, taking your hands in his own.

you managed to crack his wall that was void of any emotions, a shield you’d learnt how to overcome in the past years by unleashing your own emotions.

whatever you felt, he felt.

long fingers intertwined with yours, dark eyes staring into your own. he shifted himself closer to you until his long torso was between your thighs. you watched as his pupil traced the single tear of exasperation that rolled down your face.

“i’m sorry,” he breathed, letting go of your hands to reach up and wipe that tear away with his thumb. “fuck, i really am sorry.”

“you know,” you told him, your voice unwavering. “you were beginning to make me look like some hopeless widow.”

“no, do not say that,” jaebum shook his head, warm hands cupping your face.

how pathetic you must’ve looked under him. you hated the feeling of weakness and so did he. that was what drew you both apart. especially when you were both in denial of your emotional vulnerability, of your defeat. it definitely took you time to realise that maybe it was okay for you to just feel. exactly like right now.

suddenly, the feeling of longing for him nagged at your chest. disappointment couldn’t help but creep it’s way up into the crevices of your mind. you found yourself questioning the last time you saw him smile and the last time you heard him laugh, always so vocal it reverberated off any surface. you found yourself missing the smile he reserved for only you, the toothy grin he gave only in the privacy of your bedroom.

he released his grip on your face, uncertain on where he wanted to touch you, somewhere that would calm you down. hands found their way back to yours. he held your hand up to his lips and pressed tender kisses on your knuckles.

“jae,” you murmured, shaking your hands free from his grip. his lips parted in surprise as you nudged him back lightly to give yourself space to stand. “this isn’t going to fix anything,” you stalked toward the door. now, your aggravation turned into anger.

truth to be told, this was one of jaebum’s biggest fears. that you’d give up on him and walk away. that you’d leave him and strand him on his own.

but you had no idea about it.

“don’t leave,” he caught your wrist in his hands before you could storm out. “please.”

you were silent.

“i’ll come home with you right after this,” he pleaded, desperation now lacing his voice. “i promise.”

“no, jaebum,” you shook your head. you’ve had quite enough of this. you were here only to check if he was very well alive and to give him the fuel that he needed and missed out on in order to be alive in the first place.

“please,” he shifted his grip to your hand.

he sat down on the leather couch, hand still around yours. he drew you to him until you were on his lap, wrapping his arms around your waist. you felt his hard chest press against the space between your shoulder blades and you felt the defined crevices of his abs on your lower back.

“i’ll make it up to you,” he whispered in your ear.

secretly you relished the warmth of his body heat, of his strong arms around you. you leaned your head back on his shoulder.

“stay,” he held you tight to him as if you might disappear if he let go.

“okay,” you breathed after a moment of thought.

jaebum exhaled loudly in obvious relief. “fuck, i missed you.”

“you don’t get to pull the ‘i miss you’ thing on me,” you said, still mad at him. your anger tamed down when you saw the pout formed on his lips when he rested his chin on your shoulder. a smile ghosted at the corners of your lips.

“forgive me,” his lips found their way to skin behind your ear, a delicate place he loved kissing.

you sighed, “just this once.”

to be fair, in all the years that you’ve been with him, this was the first time he did this. so you let him off the hook.

you two sat in comfortable silence before he shifted, sitting up and bringing you along with him.

“i made twelve songs,” he told you.

you were so used to telling each other everything it became an instinctive thing, to tell you about his day and what he did. you chuckled at the sudden piece of information.

“let’s hear them,” you said.

“they’re for my mixtape,” he tapped you on the thigh, signalling you to move aside so he could stand.

you watched as he ambled his way over to the control panel in front of the recording room. he hit play with the space button on the keyboard. synth melodies, bass and carefully assembled beats began playing. it never failed to impress you the fact that he did all of this on his own. then came his harmonious voice, a voice so familiar warmth blossomed in your chest upon hearing it.

he propped himself against the edge of the desk to watch your reaction to his craft.

you paid attention to his lyrics. the words and phrases in this song suddenly seemed so personal once you were able to process what they all meant, all the hidden meanings and connotations became crystal clear. these were lyrics he wrote on his experiences with you—he’d based the entire context of this song on it.

the sensual ambience of his song forced you to stand and your hips to sway subtly to the rhythm of his music. you pretended to be nonchalant about the intense stare he had on you, your eyes focused on the screen rather than his gorgeous face.

even then, you could see the corner of his lip lifting into a smirk as he crossed his arms. his t-shirt exposed the stretch of muscle in his forearms that flexed when his hungry eyes slithered down your face to your hips.

he was checking you out.

but of course, you knew that.

it went on for a few minutes. the more songs he played for you, the deeper his eyes burned into your skin.

those eyes were ones you were the most familiar with. those eyes were what you looked for in crowded places, in times you were in doubt. you’ve watched the brown irises in them ignite when he was excited, when he was angry. you’ve watched them soften every time they focused on you. you’ve watched his pupils dilate every time he was turned on or about to drive you insane with desire.

the atmosphere was suddenly heated, the temperature rising by a few degrees. you took off your coat and laid it by the couch as the wooden floor of his studio became your dance floor.

“come here,” you wriggled your finger to gesture him to do so.

like the magnetic force of attraction he seemed to have with you, he did as you said. you fisted your fingers in his shirt and pulled him closer to you. he leaned his forehead down on yours as you two swayed to the music. you danced, his hands on your hips, your arms around his neck.

“shit,” he breathed.

“what, baby?” you whispered, equally as quiet while the music thrummed in the background.

“i didn’t know how much i needed this,” he tipped your head back with a curved index finger under your chin. you felt his half-lidded gaze cut through you like a knife.

“needed what?” you asked.

“needed you,” he murmured.

“jaebeom,” you sighed. your head dropped onto his shoulder, immediately cutting off the gaze you shared with him and breaking his hold on your chin.

there was nothing said after that. he just held you to him, the deep rumble of his breathing gradually becoming louder than the music. your heartbeats were soon in sync with one another like the languid rhythm to which your bodies were swaying. you recognised in the familiar cologne, his favourite cologne while he recognised yours.

“i wrote all these songs,” he said amidst the silence, causing you to look up at him. “about you.”

“me, huh?”

jaebeom leaned down to run his nose on the crook of your neck, breathing you in. it was easy to tell how much he missed you and your scent that enveloped around him like a safety blanket. you were his reassurance that kept him on his feet, a reminder that sometimes he can take it easy. especially with him being a leader and having all the responsibility chucked on his shoulders.

“yeah, you,” he kissed you once on the jaw before retracting himself from you.

you felt a chill slither through you with the loss of the warmth of his body heat. you ran your hands on your arms, trying to replace it.

the music was brought into a halt. the silence became deafening. the hum of electricity fused with yours and jaebeom’s synchronised breaths that left your lips were the only sounds that rang through the four concrete walls of the studio.

“why’d you pause it?” you asked him, a different kind of disappointment poking at your chest. you were definitely enjoying yourself listening to lover’s carefully curated album.

“because,” the screen in front of him turned to black as he shut it down. “i want to take you home, now.”

he made his way toward the switches, flipping each and everyone of it off. he left the overhead lights on though, so he could see the shape of your eyes as they narrowed in suspicion and your hips as they angled to one side. he enjoyed watching your attitude shine through the dark, a striking attribute he was drawn to.

“jae...” you trailed off.

“hm?” he was a step away from you and his fingers were itching to reach out to touch you. he gave in, gently taking your hands in both of his. he stood in front of you, face an inch away but a quarter head higher.

“what are you doing?” you asked.

“i don’t know,” jaebeom admitted as he shook his head. he kissed the crown of your head, his barely-there stubble scrapping the bridge of your nose slightly. “i just want you, right now.”

you were speechless because you knew exactly what he meant.

eyes tracing across his face, you saw his eyes glisten with lust, with excitement. you saw his lips twitch into a brief smirk when he leaned down to capture your lips in his own.

adrenaline rushed through you, his touch spreading a wildfire throughout your body. a sound similar to a whimper broke free from your lips and he swallowed it whole, using this opportunity to glide his tongue across your lower lip.

he was good at this, jaebeom.

good at making your forget everything with the brush of his lips and hands around your waist.

except his absence in the past five few days that seemed to be the reason you were here in the first place.

you tore your lips way from his to catch your breath, looking up into jaebeom’s eyes.

“we can’t,” you said before the situation could escalate. “not here.”

“what?” he asked, disappointed. “why the hell not?”

he’d been dreaming of bending you over and taking you right on his desk in this exact studio under the dim lighting of the ceiling fixtures.

“we’ve got things to do—you’ve got things to do,” you traced your finger across his face, your heart placed at ease at how familiar you were with his features.

“like what?” he looked at the desk to which he created all his music. “i’m almost finished with most of the songs anyway.”

“i’m talking about you, jae.” you pointed at the take out laid on the table behind him. “when was the last time you ate?”

“yesterday night?” jaebeom pondered.

it was ridiculous that he needed to think in order to remember when his last meal was.

you nudged him back so he could sit on the couch. “here—” you the slid container that was filled with food you had specifically ordered for him forward, knowing it was his favourite and that he needed it. “—eat this.”

“you always take care of me,” he shook his head as if he was ashamed of himself. “where will i be without you, huh?”

for an unclear reason, you avoided meeting his eyes as you let the question drift rhetorically midair.

he brushed off your ignorance and indulged himself in his food, eating in silence.

you sat down next to him, leaning back on the couch. his back was curved over his knees while he ate, hiding you from his line of vision.

“baby,” he murmured.

there was something so affectionate and loving about the way he said it that you couldn’t help but rest your elbows on your thighs just so you could angle your head to the side in order to look him in the eye.

“yeah?”

“i’m sorry,” he said.

“it’s okay—“

“no,” he shook his head. “it was completely unacceptable for me to keep you in the dark for so long,” it seemed the effect of his absence on you still burdened him, that the short silence while he was eating allowed him to really think through everything. “and i know sex wouldn’t resolve it.”

“jaebeom,” you reached forward to cup his cheek. “i forgive you. besides, i’m here already, am i not?.”

he chuckled and began to pack up the takeout all in the bag, tossing it into the bin next to the couch. he turned back to you, swiping a thumb over your bottom lip while his eyes lingered on your face.

“you lost so much of sleep,” he pointed out as he identified the dark circles under your eyes. “because of me.”

“i’m used to it,” you shrugged.

then there was silence again, the fact that he indirectly admitted he was horny looming over you both.

you climbed over him out of impulse, immediately straddling his lap. surprise splashed across his features, his jaw dropping slightly into a gape. you smiled a little at his reaction, your arms snaking around his neck.

“quit stressing,” you said. you felt his hands rest on your hips to keep you from falling.

“it’s really difficult not to—i’m stressed that my music isn’t good enough,” he sighed. “and i’m stressed that i might hurt you, ” he lifted a hand to push a stray hair away from your eyes. “it seems i already have.”

“no,” you placed a hand on his shoulders, massaging it to relieve it from tension.

“ye—ah—“ he squeezed his eyes shut in relaxation and threw his head back onto the edge couch. “—yes.”

“jae,” you gave him a solemn look although he clearly wasn’t paying attention.

“if i could’ve just picked up the ph—“

“jae,” you repeated more firmly this time.

“what?” he said.

“shut up,” you said.

“okay,” he chuckled, fingers tightening around your hips.

you worked your hands on his shoulders for a little longer, your eyebrows drawn together as you loosened all the knots formed by stress in the planes of his muscles. a sigh escaped your lips the moment your hands released his shoulders.

a few seconds later, you found, his eyes had almost been drawn into a close. he was exhausted and obviously, you knew that. his hands were still on your waist as his head dropped forward onto your shoulder.

“hey,” you murmured, running your fingers through his hair. “come on, it’s getting late. i’ll drive the both of us home, you can get your car tomorrow.”

he groaned your name, followed by a string of words you couldn’t really decipher.

a grunt, as unattractive as it was, left your lips as you lifted jaebum up from the couch with his arm slung around your shoulders.

“i can walk myself, you know.”

“oh, so you can speak now,” you teased him.

“i’m not drunk,” he nuzzled his head in your neck.

“you’re tired,” you glanced sideways at him.

“that, i am.”

“let’s go,” you grabbed your coat in your other hand, while the other supported half of his weight.

“wait,” he dragged you along with him to the switches by the wall. “i need to turn this off or the electricity bill will injure my bank account.”

you chuckled, shaking your head. “you’re crazy.”

“crazy for you,” he murmured, making you roll your eyes.

everything was pitch black and neither of you could see as you two made your way to the front door where light leaked through the edges.

“ow!” he screamed next to you as his movements jerked the both of you to the side. “my shin—fuck.”

you held back a laugh, cupping your hand over your mouth.

“fuck, it hurts,” he hissed, crouching down and bringing you down with him to check his injuries. “i’m literally going to destroy this damn table.”

“jae, we have to go,” you shook your head, a smile on your face despite the fact that neither of you could see.

“yes mom.”