#stressed and its such a stupid thing to care about but its kinda straw that broke the camels back rn

[gaybananabread]

HI HI HI, just noticed that you have ATSV in your fandom list and literally exploded?!???? I’d like to order oranges, bananas and cherries pls!! Ler! Miguel and like Lee!Reader BUT LIKE, the reader is like just a teenager?? Found family trope if you catch my vibe yk

TYSM IF YOU DECIDE TO DO THIS, if ya don’t ITS FINEEE BUT YEAH YEAH <333

Fruit(s): Oranges, Bananas, Cherries

This is a pretty fun idea, don’t get many insert requests! I’m pretty sure you meant the reader to be a spider person, so that’s where I went with it. If not, eeeeeh sorry! Never written for Miguel, so I hope he isn’t too crazy OOC in this. Also, since it wasn’t specified, went gender neutral. A tad angsty because it’s been that kinda week. It’s long because I’m a sucker for found family stuff.. Thank you for the kind words, and I hope you Enjoy!

Lee: Gender Neutral Reader

Ler: Miguel

Summary: You’ve been taking unnecessary risks on missions, trying to show off and impress a certain Spider-Man. It has the opposite effect, only worrying the man and making him question you. After you joke around and play off the danger, he uses a special tactic to make sure you learn your lesson.

Warnings: none! This is a tickle fic, so if you don’t like that, scroll away!!

Your life was interesting, to say the least. For the past seven months, you had been your universe’s one and only spider person. That…that was hard. Especially when you had nobody to turn to. Trying to stay in school and keep the city safe was easier said than done, and it was still a mouthful. That stress took its toll on you, and it wasn’t pretty. Long story short, you managed to isolate yourself from everyone who cared.

On one particular night, you were fighting a strange villain you’d never seen before. He…kinda looked like he had a fishbowl on his head; his appearance was cartoonish. Called himself Mysterio. The guy kept yelling about his revenge; how Stark, whoever that was, wronged him. Just another crazy guy. Unfortunately, he was a very powerful crazy guy.

He gave you everything he had. Mists, holograms, hallucinations. You were reeling, struggling to stay in the fight. Mysterio prayed on your anxieties, your fears, your past: everything you had been facing. One thing was painfully clear. 

You couldn’t do it alone.

And that’s when your luck turned. A bright flash of orange and red light broke through the green smoke, someone’s booming voice bringing you back to reality. Glowing red webs popped the hologram devices, a blue-and-red suited man landing a hit square in the fish bowl. 

In a few quick strikes, the fight was over. The man caught your attention with his fighting skills and quick thinking. You could tell he was trying to keep Mysterio away from you. When the fight was over, you rushed over to him, trying to get any information from him. 

He looked you over, having LYLA scan your signature. You were…all alone. Everyone you loved had been shoved away. The man related a bit too closely to that…

Before you could come off as completely desperate, he tossed you a watch and waved you towards an open portal. The rest was history.

The man, Miguel O’Hara, took you under his wing. He was a bit temperamental, but it was clear he cared for you. No matter how many stupid mistakes you made, how many anomalies got the drop on you, he was right there. You definitely grew attached, placing him high on your mantle. You wanted to impress him, though that was more difficult than it seemed. Pushing your limits, you gave every mission your all, even if it put you at risk. You were fine. Just needed to do better.

-

Miguel was concerned. No, scratch that, he was worried and downright anxious for your every move. Why were you taking so many unnecessary risks?! He certainly hadn’t taught you that, though a few names came to mind… Regardless, it was a habit you had to drop.

The mission you went on that day was the last straw. It was a low-grade villain, just an average Kraven. Easy catch-and-send; only you didn’t make it easy. 

Kraven had laid all sorts of traps, though thanks to his brightly-colored universe, they were detectable. At least, they would’ve been if you hadn’t rushed in. In your mind, the quicker you captured him, the more impressed Miguel would be. Bursting into action, you didn’t notice the traps and sprung a flash-bang snare. While you managed to dodge the wire, you were dazed and your spider sense was left reeling. Not good.

Struggling to your feet, you shot out webs in every direction, trying to nail him or at least get a sense of where he was. The flash wasn’t good, though if you still caught him, Miguel would at least be a little impressed. A yelp to your left got you what you needed. As you ran to try and web him up, you stepped on a wire; a wire connected to a high-voltage unit. The sound of the electricity hit your ears before the shock itself. 

-

“What were you thinking?”

The dim lighting of Miguel’s office just made everything twice as intimidating. You had gotten a clean bill of health from the med bay, though it didn’t make you feel any better. It felt like you let him down. When you shrugged, he sighed, running a hand down his face.

“Malditos adolescentes.” He mumbled under his breath, trying to stay calm and collected. Miguel was far from mad, but he was definitely worried, and yeah, a little annoyed that you kept ignoring your training. Still, he knew showing that would only upset you further. “You going to start talking or sit here in silence a little longer? It’s empanada day, and I’d be happier if you came clean.”

You rubbed your arm, remembering the way your nerves lit up from the trap. It was safe to say you were embarrassed to admit the real reason you rushed. “Uh…felt like I needed a little recharge?” Okay, dumb joke, but it’s how you dealt with stuff. How a lot of spider people dealt with stuff.

He huffed, not appreciating your attempt to play off his concern. “Look kid, I’m gonna tell you how it is. You’ve been rushing missions, over exerting yourself, and making risky calls I’ve never seen from you before. Tell me what’s going on with you. I promise I won’t get mad.” His voice softened at the end, his look shifting to one of concern and worry.

That made you pause. Lying wasn’t going to get you far, and it was really close to lunch… “I…kinda, sorta, maybe wanted to…ya know, i-impress you…” Your voice dropped off at the end as you suddenly found a scuff on the floor incredibly interesting.

“Kid…” Miguel paused, taking a deep breath. “C’mon. You know you don’t have to try and impress me. I just don’t want you making stupid mistakes and getting hurt.” It didn’t take a genius to decipher the look of guilt that went across your face. Miguel thought back to a few weeks ago, when you had gotten a minor side injury. He had bandaged you up and made a rather adorable discovery while doing so. That’d work.

Trying to control his expression, Miguel got closer, sitting beside you on the ledge. Miggy was trying to get better with his people skills, and since he met you,  he was doing good. “Look, burbujita, it’s okay. Get the guilt off your face, try a smile~” 

You understood where he was going with that immediately. You quickly shot out a web, shooting up towards his tall office cieling. He shook his head, a throaty chuckle escaping him before he followed. It was big, but he knew his office better than anyone. Silently, Miguel landed on the cieling, scanning for you.

A place where rebar met the ceiling gave you a place to crouch. You clamped your hand over your mouth, trying to hide any giggles or heavy breaths. Unbeknownst to you, it was the only spot up there like that. He knew exactly where you were.

Miguel crawled over, springing up and grabbing you by the waist. He huffed at your shriek of surprise, carefully dropping back down and sitting you down on one of the ledges. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, sitting beside you and pulling you close. If he hadn’t been planning such silly antics, it would’ve been sweet.

Before you could try to shove him off, you felt five clawed fingers on your side. The arm around your shoulders tightened, blocking any escape routes. “M-miguehehehel?!” Tickling was the last thing you expected; maybe yelling or a two-week probation, but that? And he was so smug about it, too.

“You should really laugh more, kid. That sound? Que lindo…” Miguel raked his claws up and down your side, being extra careful not to scratch you. You twisted and squirmed in his grip, but it was solid; you weren’t going anywhere. “Cohohome ohon! Ihi’m sohohory!”

He clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “None of those apologies. Just stop putting yourself at risk, kid. I’m proud of you for just putting the mask on and going out to fight. You don’t need to overdo it.” Your cheeks reddened at the praise, though you blamed it on the silliness. 

Just when you thought he was done, you felt the claws move to your belly; specifically, he started on your navel. Ignoring your squeal of protest, he dug in. “They really need to make these suits thicker, huh? Great for flexibility, though not too good against wiggling fingers.”

You kicked your feet, squealing and laughing like a little kid. Miguel found it adorable. When he first met you, you were stuck in worries and the unpleasantness of life. It was nice to see you just let loose and laugh, even if it was a little unprofessional. 

He caught the redness of your cheeks, deciding to tease you just a bit further. “You’re so red, kid. Should I start calling you cara rosa?” Feeling your face heat up further, you tried to hide it in his chest. He tugged your shoulder, keeping your red face where he could see it. It was cute.

Wanting to hit one more spot before he quit, Miguel moved to claw at your ribs. He climbed up and down your ribcage, trying to get as many happy giggles out of you as he could. “You gonna stop trying to impress me and just do your best?” 

You nodded, thrashing like a worm on a hook. “Yehehes! Ihi prohohomise!” Miguel chuckled, pinching your side one last time before stopping. He rubbed your back, hugging you close and trying to help you settle down. “Was that so hard?” A small laugh escaped him at the look he received. “Alright, alright, I’m done. If you ever feel like that again, just tell me. I’ll help.”

Right as he stopped talking, a small sound made him smile further. You groaned, hiding your face in your hands. “Guess I tired you out, didn’t I? We should go get you some lunch.” He patted your shoulder with a smirk, standing up and walking to the door. You cursed your stomach’s stupid growl before following, reflecting on everything that had happened to you since you got bit. Living with a man who cares about you, working to keep the spider-verse and all the people within it safe. Yeah, not a bad way to live…

[amethyst-skeleton]

mutuals please apparate and play with my hair and hug me until I am soothed, I feel unsettled and i don't know why yet. needs a nap - but is busy for rest of day

[anothers-trash-my-treasure]

Take It Out On Me

Happy Smutty Saturday! I seem to like writing things revolving around the pandemic lmaoo I'm sorry, I don't want to make that a habit. This is escapism, after all. Anyways, request from god knows how long ago about angry fucking with our fav gremlin boi

Pairing: Merriell Shelton / Reader (Female)

Warnings: 18+. There's some angst, some words exchanged in anger but nothing too crazy. Unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it pls don't be dumb) Rough sex, dirty talking, hints of BDSM if you squint, praise kink if you squint.

Word Count: 3K

Tag List: @edteche2 @xmxisxforxmaybe @diasimar @txmel @gloriousdarkangelsworld @paradoxicaltornado @404-not-found-xix

Enjoy!

When the pandemic started, things weren’t so bad. Your job allowed you to simply work from your laptop, you had turned the second bedroom/storage room into a makeshift office and it worked just fine. Merriell, on the other hand, was not so lucky. He had been laid off, and, at first, was incredibly stressed about it. Thankfully though, you made enough money to cover the rent and the government came through with some financial aid that helped Mer pay for the bills. You’d be okay.

In fact, once the financial stresses were taken care of, it was actually kind of nice. You two hadn’t lived together long, but long enough that you had noticed your schedule differences and long enough to know you had missed each other. Gone were the late nights at the shop that left you lonely and missing his touch. Quite the contrary, during the first few months, you had fucked like rabbits. He had taken you in every room of the house like you were christening the damn thing all over again. The kitchen, the living room, the bathroom, hell, he even had you in your ‘office’ at one point. It was fun, being together all the time.

Until it wasn’t.

Eventually, being cooped up in the same goddamn space all the damn time got to both of you. And you loved him dearly but god he was so fucking annoying sometimes. Usually, you could avoid creating tension either by slinking away to your office for a bit or politely asking him to take a walk. But the office door had been a lost cause ever since he fucked you up against it so hard it came right off its hinges and it was raining outside, so he couldn’t leave. You were stuck.

Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad, but the little things that usually didn’t matter had gone unchecked and undiscussed and were beginning to bite at your skin in a way you couldn’t ignore. For you, it had started when you went to the bathroom in the morning, only to discover he had left the toilet seat up and you fell right through. For him it had started when you unconsciously kicked him awake at 6 in the morning on a Saturday. And from there it spiraled. By the time you were ready for coffee, he had drunk the whole pot.

“Thanks for leaving me some.” you had grumbled, and maybe you meant it in good fun, but your sleepy attitude struck a chord, and you knew that because it was met with silence.

So maybe that’s why you didn’t ask him if he wanted some of the eggs you were making for breakfast. And maybe that’s why he decided the be extra loud when he finally made his own breakfast. Pots and pans clanging as he threw them in the sinks, cupboard doors slamming shut and using his fork just a little too violently in a way that set your whole being on edge.

By the end of the day, you had snapped at each other a few times and the tension was so thick that you could barely stand just being next to him. You hated that you were feeling this way, that these stupid lockdowns were driving you away from each other when all you wanted was the opposite. But you couldn’t let go of your anger and annoyance, and it bled through your veins, poisoning any conflict resolution that threatened to act as an antidote to your frustrations.

The last straw came at dinner. He had asked you what you wanted to eat and just the question had you gritting your teeth. So you had replied, telling him that he could make whatever he wanted. That, apparently, was the wrong answer.

“Jesus fucking christ,” he snarled, slamming his hand down onto the kitchen island, “Can you please jus' tell me what the fuck you want?!”

You had done nothing more than glance his way and roll your eyes, not getting a chance to respond before he was launching into a tangent.

“Seriously, what the fuck do ya think I am? Some kinda mind reader?” He asks, one hand gesturing wildly while the other keeps the counter in a white-knuckled grip, “Ya been in this fuckin’ mood all goddamn day and Darlin, I gotta say, ‘m fuckin’ sick of it.”

You bark out a sharp, bitter laugh, “Oh, you’re sick of it?” You stand up from the couch, walking behind it so you can get closer to him, “Like you haven’t been intentionally pissing me off all fucking day.”

His jaw pushes out in annoyance, both hands now gripping the countertop, “I promise you,” and you gotta give the guy credit for trying to regain some composure, “whateva’ I did to make you this goddamn bitchy was not intentional.”

“Oh, so I’m a bitch now?” You counter, folding your arms over your chest.

His eyes close and his chin tucks into his chest, recognizing his mistake but unwilling to apologize for it, “That’s not what I meant.”

“No, no, it’s fine. Tell me.” you insist, stepping closer to him, “Tell me what a bitch I’ve been. Blame all your problems on me. Because that’s just easier, isn’t it?”

It’s not true. You know. He knows it. But right now, all you can focus on is the anger that’s been boiling in the pit of your stomach.

“Y’know what? Maybe this-” he cuts himself off, but his quick gesture between the two of you finishes the rest of his sentence for him. Silence fills the kitchen and now there’s salt added to the wound. Hurt swirls with your anger and you can’t stop yourself from talking even if you tried.

“No, say it.” you encourage bitterly, crossing the line into the kitchen, “Tell me how moving in together was a mistake. Tell me how you can’t fucking stand living with me. Tell me how I’m so bitchy and how sick you are of my shit. Tell me-”

Before you can finish antagonizing him, he’s got you pushed up against the wall, his hands braced on either side of your head. He’s so close to you, you can feel his breath, angry and panting on your skin. You look into his eyes, seeing them hard and cold with his anger but something else lying behind them.

“Shut the fuck up,” he growls, and before you can even begin to be angry about it his lips are on yours and you can’t breathe.

His anger is very apparent, even as he kisses you. It’s rough, bruising, but it’s an outlet for all the negative feelings you’ve been experiencing so you kiss him back just as hard. You reach for him, unsure if you’re working to pull him closer and push him away. It doesn’t really matter though because he doesn’t let you touch him for long. Within seconds both your wrists are taken in one hand and pinned above your head. You fight against his hold, despite knowing it’s futile. In retaliation you bite down hard on his lip, feeling only a little satisfied when he pulls away in shock, his free hand coming up to check for blood. There's not.

You meet his eyes with a defiant smirk. He wants to play dirty? Fine. You can play that way too.

He steps away and for a second you think he’s actually going to walk away. But then-

“Get your ass to the bedroom.”

You almost laugh. If he thinks you’re, in any way, going to be compliant tonight, he’s sadly mistaken. Instead, you cross your arms, falling back to lean against the wall, your eyes never leaving his. He chuckles, an angry smirk crossing his features. He looks away, shaking his head, tongue poking against the side of his cheek in complete disbelief. Before you can think of your next move he’s got you thrown over his shoulder, marching the both of you down the hallway to your shared bedroom. You squirm, trying to push yourself to an angle that would let you fight his grip but it’s no use. By the time you work his hold free, he’s already dropping you on the bed. Although dropping may not be the right word, he all but slams you down, leaving you momentarily breathless.

Even then, he moves quickly. His hands move to his belt, quickly working the clasp back and off so he can slide his jeans off. Despite your anger, you feel heat pool between your legs when the fabric drops to reveal bare skin. It’s nothing new for Merriell, but it never fails to do something to you. He knows it too, a cocky smile gracing his face as he sheds his shirt too. He only lets you look for a second before he’s quickly flipping you onto your stomach. He forces you up onto your knees, hand finding the back of your neck to keep you where he wants you as he climbs onto the mattress behind you.

You put up a bit of a fight, although you’re becoming less and less focused on your anger and frustration and more focused on the feeling on his cock pressing against the back of your jean-clad thigh.

“Always seem to forget how fucking stubborn you are.” He growls into your ear, pressing himself against the line of you body while his free hand starts to unbutton and work off your pants, “Hard headed and difficult.” he continues, biting roughly on your earlobe just to here your intake of breathe and to feel you struggle against his hold, “A fucking brat.” He punctuates the last words by tugging both your jeans and panties down around your thighs roughly. You hiss at the forcefulness of the action, feeling the burn of the fabric against your skin contrasting with cool air against your bare pussy.

You’re completely at his mercy.

His presence is dominating, even though you can’t see him, his hands, one pressing on your neck to keep you still and the other caressing the swell of your ass, let you know exactly who's in charge. You don’t struggle, both of you knowing how much you want him, but you still hold an air of defiance. Your face is turned so you can breathe, but you won’t give him the satisfaction of looking at him. He tries to draw you out, teasing you by dragging his cock against your wetness. He alternates between taking the tip and rubbing it between your folds and fucking the space between your thighs. He knows what it does to you, can see the way you fight the urge to beg by pressing your lips together.

But you don’t fold.

“C’mon baby,” he taunts, venom laced in his words, “I know you want it.” As he talks the hand on your neck slides up into your hair, “Know you want that attitude fucked outta ya,” He tugs your hair roughly, pulling a gasp from your lips and forcing you to look back at him, “All ya gotta do is ask.”

You breathe heavily for a second, eyes locked with his, “Go fuck yourself.”

He growls, shoving your head back down into the mattress and thrusting into you roughly. Your back arches, eyes rolling back in your head as he begins to fuck you, not allowing you even a second to catch your breath. The second he sees bliss cross your features, he’s insufferable.

He laughs against a moan, “Feisty,” he comments, “but the second my dick’s in ya, you’re putty in my hands.”

You’re desperate to prove him wrong. You force your eyes open, locking them with his and pushing back against his thrusts, the headboard already banging against the wall with the force of both your movements.

“Feel’s good doesn’t it?” He asks, free hand coming down on your ass with a sharp smack.

“I’ve had better.” Your voice bounces with each thrust, but you’re determined to keep your composure, despite the pleasure that makes your toes curl.

Another growl rumbles through his chest and he lays another harsh smack to your rear, just to see your body react, “Liar,” he hisses, fingers digging into your skin.

His angle changes ever so slightly so that his cock now drags against your sweet spot with every movement and you can’t force your moan back. His eyes light up, laughing delightedly at the sound, “Had betta’ my ass.” he comments, leaning down to bite roughly on your shoulder, effectively leaving marks all across them, “Ya jus’ can’t help ya’self. You love it. Love the feeling of my cock in you.”

“Who says I’m thinking of you?” You shoot back.

You know it’s not true. Merriell was unlike any lover you had before, you were hopelessly and utterly ruined for anyone else. But that didn’t matter. The comment, however untruthful, hits his possessive streak just like you knew it would. He pulls out of you, flipping you onto your back and nearly ripping the remaining fabric off your body before resuming his brutal pace, this time using your wrists on either side of your head to hold you down. In this position he can ensure that you’re looking at him, leaving no doubt in either of your minds that it’s him that makes you feel like this. Only him.

“Such a fucking brat,” he growls, leaving bite marks all along your skin. By the time you’re done, there won’t be a part of your body that’s not marked by him.

He stops talking for a second, focusing instead on giving you the fucking of your life. He’d never fucked you like this. He’d been possessive, sweet, caring, loving, jealous. But never angry. Not like this. Every ounce of frustration and anger he’d felt was redirected to his hips, the air tense with the hurtful words you’d both said earlier.

“C’mon,” you taunt when he slows for a second, lips turned up in a sneer even as you pant, breathless, “That all you got?”

“Shut the fuck up,” he snarls, hoisting your legs up onto his shoulders, releasing your hands so he can move one to your throat, pressing you into the bed that way instead. It’s hard for you to breathe that way, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love it. And if you thought he was fucking you hard before, it’s nothing compared to the way he’s fucking you now.

The new angle allows him to trust deeper into you and your stubborn resolve begins to fade a little. Your hands scramble to latch onto his forearm that holds you down, not trying to push him away but just searching for purchase, for support somewhere you’ve always found it. He’s not faring much better, head rolling back onto his shoulders with a groan as he fucks you. You’re both quickly abandoning your anger in favor of the pleasure that you provide each other.

“Merriell,” you mewl, a peace offering without even realizing it.

His head snaps back to look down at you, eyes sparkling at the sound of your name on his lips for the first time tonight, “There she is,” he pants, leaning down to kiss you, open-mouthed and filthy. It’s still harsh, but the anger behind his motions is nearly gone, “My good girl, huh?”

You don’t even need to nod, to voice your confirmation. It’s not even really a question. You both know you’d come to an unspoken agreement.

“Fuck, baby girl.” he moans against your mouth, slowing his trusts just enough so he can really make you feel the drag of his cock inside you, “Oh, you feel so good.”

You love it when he gets like this. When all he can do is fuck into you and voice his pleasure. It’s a sure sign of surrender.

“Yes,” you gasp, back arching up against his as you feel your pleasure begin to reach its peak, “Merriell, I’m close.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, nodding in agreement, “C’mon, baby I gotcha. Let go for me.”

Your eyes lock with his the second you feel yourself slip over the edge. You see the way his eyes watch you, full of love that he had hidden behind his anger earlier. Your nails dig into his arm and your eyes roll back, unable to help yourself as pleasure courses through your whole body. You think that maybe you're shaking, but you’re completely detached from your conscious, knowing only the bliss he’s brought you.

Your senses come back to you just in time to feel him finish inside of you. His head buries into your neck, muffling his moans against your skin. The hand that had previously held you down now cups the back of your neck, the other gripping the back of your thigh with a grip so tight, you’re sure you’ll wear his fingerprints for a week.

He collapses against you, staying buried in your heat but pulling back enough so he can kiss you passionately. You kiss him back, hands tangling in his hair as your emotions begin to rise. When he pulls back your eyes are wet with unshed tears.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, rubbing your noses together.

He nods, rubbing your noses together affectionately, “Me too,” he says, just as quiet, “Don’t leave.”

It’s a rare moment of sheer vulnerability, much needed after the heightened tensions throughout the past few days. You both knew, on some levels that the words shared earlier were spoken only out of frustration. But there was always that glimmer of doubt that you both felt. For him, it was always that you could find someone better. And for you, it was always the possibility of him growing sick of you.

You shake your head, kissing his softly, lovingly, “Never.”

After a few more moments of holding each other, he pulls out of you but doesn't move much further. He pulls you tight against his chest, kissing the top of your forehead. You bask in the silence for a handful of moments, just listening to each other breathe, finally feeling the tension between the two of you dissipate.

“Next time, can you just please put the seat down?” You murmur against his chest, a teasing tone to your voice.

He barks out a laugh and you grin against his skin at the sound.

Everything was going to be okay.

[liannelara-dracula]

😭 ??

Awesome requests!

Okay, so please remember that in this situation this is towards their gf not their sacrificial bride, that would be a whole other story which I will make prompts about in the future.

This does not include the comfort they give after words

I really tried to target most of the boys past’s here and how the reader is kinda getting under their skin but she has point in doing so. Some are random tho.

Link to prompt---> HERE

Please join my diabolik lovers group chat! Link---> HERE

Read Laito Sakamaki Fanfic [Dark Theme]---> Here

Sakamaki

Shu:

It was because you encourage him to be active one to many times and he got mad. Which honestly doesn’t happen but you got his nerves for once and he was not happy.

“You honestly shouldn’t care, it’s not your life.” He said, resting on the couch.

“Shu, it’s a good thing. Maybe at least try.” You suggested.

He looked at you only to sigh, “I’d prefer if you’d stay out of my life.” His eyes a dark hue of ocean blue as he seemed to be upset.

“Shu, I was just trying to help.” You said looking at him a bit disappointed.

“I said to stay out of it! Not quit acting like it matters to you.” He glared.

“Fine, do what you want.” You’d say before wiping your tears away and leaving the room.

Reiji:

Reiji being Reiji, said something rude of course. Probably because you brought up his mother and that he just forgive or at least move because it would put less stress on him.

“Do you view me as foolish?”

“What? Reiji, no. I just think you should relax a bit.”

“You clearly have no business in the matter, do not tell me how I should and should not deal with things.”

“Reiji-“

“You want me to make amends with my dead mother when I revive her. How foolish, only proves you are senseless mortal. You may possess the gift of beauty but you are and forever will be mere distraction for me. Do not try to meddle with my emotions.”

You glared at him with a strong sense of anger. This was not only so insulting but he just implied you were a play thing. Realizing all of this, you had been hit by such pain, you had endured his insults before but this was the last straw. You couldn’t be passive aggressive this time.

Hurt flashed in your eyes as you shook your head, “You’re right, I’m just a pretty distraction for you but at least I’m not heartless.” You mumbled loud enough for him to hear as you pass by him.

Holding your tears in as best as you could you left to your room closing it behind you only to sob in your hands uncontrollably.

Laito:

You knew a little bit about his past but not completely but you just wanted to understand because he never everything about you.

“Can’t you just tell me?” You say titling your head looking somewhat sad.

“Its none of your business. Please just leave it alone.” He said, his back turned you as he messed with the few picture frames in your bedroom.

“Don’t you think it’s unfair that you don’t let me hide anything from you but you hide everything from me?”

“I don’t want to talk about my mother with you.”

“I’m not asking you too. I’m just saying-“

“Damn it, can’t you just drop this! I’m sick of your concern! It’s irrating.”

“I’m irrating?” You voice cracked as tears fell from your eyes.

“Y/ N.”

“I should go.” You say dryly before leaving.

Kanato:

You just wanted him to relax and to not throw as many tantrums. He had always been a little bit on the crazy side when something had hit him but you would have never have imagined him to get so worked up about what you said and did. So of course he raised his voice at you and told you were worthless and it didn’t help at all.

“You shouldn’t raise your voice Kanato, it’ll make you stressed.”

“Shut up! You stupid worthless mortal!” He’d say being really upset.

This of course was something you didn’t typically witness and it hurt to say the least. You suddenly felt your cheeks getting wet as you wiped them a few times before running off.

(Because Kanato is of course crazy and I have to portray him here as if he were less crazy since no one could actually did a crazy person. I mean that would just be dis-functional for the both of you.)

Ayato:

It was at school where he didn’t win a basketball match and he was just so mad. He always wanted to be the best and he hate that you saw that game where he didn’t win.

“Ayato, it’s just a game. You can win next time.” You say, putting a hand on his shoulder, trying to reassure him.

“No it’s not.” He said shaking his head, gritting his teeth.

“Hey, I’m still proud of you.”

“NO! I’m a failure!” His fist hitting the locker next to him shocking you in surprise.

“Ayato calm down.” You say, frowning before reaching out to him.

“No you don’t understand what its like to drown because your not good enough! You think you know what it means but you don’t have a damn clue.” He gritted his teeth, not realizing he had hurt your feelings.

“You always say that but you don’t know how much it hurts to see you like this.” You mumbled before brushing passed him. A tear rolling down your cheek as you say this.

Subaru:

It was the topic of his insecurities and him feeling like he wasn’t enough.

“You don’t want someone like me. I’m a horrible person.”

“No, no you are not.” You say, cupping his face with your heads. 

“How could you want this! I am not what you want! I am a mistake, y/n!” He moved from your touch, yelling at you in frustration. 

You looked down not knowing what to say. He kept acting like this and you weren’t sure how to reassure him anymore. Seeing him like this hurt you.

“If only you know how much it hurts to see you like this.” Your eyes glassy, a few tears flowing down your face as you felt so hopeless.

Kino:

“Kino, please.” You pleaded, feeling so distraught.

“I can’t.” He shook his head.

You grit your teeth before losing yourself. “Damn it Kino! For once in your life could you just put me first and not your revenge!”

“You don’t understand what it means!” He ranted, through his hands up.

You glared, tears falling down your face by this point. It felt like everything was spinning. You pointed a finger at him shouting, “I gave up everything for you!”

“Y/n-”

“I-if you l-love me, t-this is the least you c-could do.” You weep before turning to leave him.

Mukami

Ruki:

You two were both too stubborn to admit that you guys didn’t just like each other but in-fact were at the stage of loving. Even so you both had such rough pasts and things weren’t going so well because you both were digging into each other’s past. And let’s just say neither of you were ready.

“You know you can tell me anything.” He mumbled looking down with a frown.

“Ruki, you wouldn’t understand.” You shook your head.

“Why can’t you tell me?” He asked somewhat annoyed that you weren’t going to open.

“Because!” You through your arms up before continuing. “You want me to open up thinking that it’s easy but why don’t you try being the one to say it all first.”

“I’m a vampire, some of my stories are too much to share with you. You wouldn’t look at me the same.” He frowned.

“How could you say that? You don’t even know how I feel, yet you act like you do and push me away but then come in whenever you want.” Your voice wavering with a knot in your throughout.

“Y/n, I wanna help you.” He held your hand, preventing you from leaving.

You looked up at him a tear rolling down your cheek, “If you wanna help me then just let me go.”

Yuma:

“I don’t want you to protect me.” You shook your head ignoring his worry.

He looked into your eyes, touching your cheek. “I’m a vampire only because I owe a debt to someone. I can’t burden you as much as I love you.”

“Yuma. You could never burden me.” You say with glassy eyes.

“Y/n, please just go, it’s better for you.” He turned not looking at you, in fear he’d break if he looked at you any second.

You shook your head, placing a hand on his shoulder, “I don’t care if you’re a vampire, I love you.”

“Y/n. Go now.” He gritted his teeth not wanting to deal with your stubbornness.

Tears blurred your vision, a crack in your voice as you couldn’t do this anymore. “No--how can you-”

“GO!”He yelled.

You back away a tear falling down your cheek, your mouth agape as you couldn’t believe your world had come crashing down.

Kou:

You were being continuously bullied by his fangirls and you didn’t want to keep bothering him about it because he just seemed so busy. And everytime you did he told you it’s just something to ignore and that it’s quite normal. Here he was quite insensitive due to his past because he was used to being abused because of his beauty so he didn’t see the need to protect you. He thought you’d just forget about it.

“How is it so easy for you?” You asked, not understanding how he could do it.

“You just get over it, it’s not really that hard.” He mused, looking at the papers in front of him.

“Get over it? You act like it’s so easy.” Your voice sounding surprised as you looked at him with glassy eyes.

“Why are you getting so upset?” He asked, coming to your side now.

“You mean you haven’t seen the endless harassment at school?” You questioned somewhat upset for his ignorance. This was crushing you and he could care less.

“I have, but it just takes time. Moving on from is it is not so bad.” He shrugged.

“H-how can you say that? D-don’t you c-care at all?” Your shoulders shook as tears ran down your face.

“I do-”

“Y-you don’t know how much it h-hurts.” You stammered with tears still falling. Here he was shocked that such a confident beautiful girl could be so broken, and it was his fault.

Azusa:

He’d always been sweet and loving but he didn’t want to burden you.

“It’s better...if I leave...you won’t worry.” He smiled weakly feeling like he had put you through to much.

“No, Azusa don’t say that.” You shook your head.

“It’s okay...you should meet...other people.” He said frowning that you didn’t want to listen to him.

“No, you are enough for me. I-I love you.” You break down in tears as you feel like you’ve hurt him.

Tsukinami

Carla:

You two were having love issues. And opening up wasn’t Carla’s strong suit.

“Carla we can talk about this.” You frowned walking over to him.

“There’s nothing to talk about.” He ignored.

“Yes there is, because I love you and I don’t want you to be so closed like this.” You reassured him.

“Y/n, being a vampire, let alone a founder is a hard thing. You don’t need to be dragged into something like this. It’d only hurt you.” He tried to reason not wanting to burden you.

“I’ve been hurt so many times because our relationship is breaking Carla.” You justified.

“Y/N I can’t drag you into this!” Growing upset he slamed his hand on the counter.

“The only way you’d hurt me is if you didn’t tell me.” You shook your head reassuring him.

“Y/N ENOUGH!” He yelled.

“Fine.” You’re voice went quiet.

“Look it’s-” He tried to justify.

“All I ever did is love you, but I guess it’s not enough.” Your eyes glassy you turned to walk away wiping the tears that fell.

Shin:

His anger was the reason for all this. And it was a point less argument to be honest.

“Shin please, I barely know the guy.” You reassured him.

“How do I know you’re not lying?” He turned to look at you somewhat angry.

“Oh so you think I’m lying?” Your voice wavered.

“You’re gone a lot of the time!” He shouted enough to make anyone here behind the walls of the room. Your eyes brimmed with tears as you tried to hold them back, only failing to do so.

Shaking your head you replied, “I wouldn’t do that to you.” 

“You say that, but it doesn’t seem that way. You’re just crying to make me stay.” He snarled.

“I do not want anyone but you, why can’t you see it?!” You glared wiping your tears.

“Because everyone betrays me damn it! And you will too!” He approach you pointing his finger at you, his blood boiling.

“I love you! You’re betraying me because you don’t trust me!” You screamed, your cheeks wet and stained with tears. Desperately you tired to wipe them away but it made no difference.

[shoyomp3]

comforting u when ur stressed<3

genre🍓: fluff, slight angst

pairing🍓: nishinoya x gn!reader, tanaka x gn!reader, sugawara x gn!reader, hinata x gn!reader

warnings🍓: reader not taking care of themselves, reader getting angry and yelling 😀🥴, terrible writing and ✨typos✨

word count🍓: 1.8k

desc🍓: you’ve been stressed because of school and you haven’t been taking care of yourself. your boyfriend has noticed and tries to make you feel better

author note🍓: lol fuck school 🤯🥴 also send requests if you want but just an fyi i’m not that familiar with most characters and it’s gonna be harder to write for them but i’m fine with everyone from karasuno 😭😭

nishinoya yuu (401 words)

you guys used to go on dates every week and would hang out almost everyday but lately all you’ve been doing is studying. you had a few tests coming up and a few missing assignments. it was almost the end of the year which meant that everything was due.

you stayed up all night to study and work. you devoted all your time outside of school to your books. you barely ate, barely slept and barely had any human contact.

when you walked into class you looked exhausted. you looked weak. you didnt look like yourself. everyone noticed this especially noya. he tried to talk to you and get you to relax but you would just walk away from him and review things.

he came over to your house one night, wanting you to stop and eat a meal and sleep. he walked up the stairs to your room, knocking softly on your door.

“y/n? can i come in?” he spoke quietly in case you accidentally fell asleep.

“...yeah...” your voice sounded so drained. he slowly opened your door, stopping when he saw you hunched over your desk, books and papers everywhere. his heart shattered. he walked over to you, softly turning your head to look at him. his eyes scanned over your face, noticing the dark circles, the tear stains, the tired look in your eyes. it hurt him to see you like this. all he wanted to do was hold you and let you know it was okay, that the tests didn’t matter, that you could relax.

he pulled you into his arms, squeezing lightly. “do you wanna take a break?” he pulled away and looked into your eyes.

“i can’t, i’m sorry.” you slid out of his grip and turned back to your work only to be pulled away. you were being dragged to your bed.

“noya? what are you doing?” you asked confused.

“i’m making you relax and you will not fight back. you can’t treat your body like this. i know you want to do well in school but you need to take breaks sometimes”

he threw you onto your bed and collapsed on top of you. you two stayed like that for awhile until he started giving you small kisses all over your face.

“do you want something to eat? i can order whatever you want”

“nothing right now. i just wanna stay with you”

tanaka ryunosuke (420 words)

he waited at the restaurant for an hour. you never said you were gonna be late. you never texted or called him. he got tired of waiting and tired of the embarrassment so he got up and left.

he went to your place wanting an explanation. he knocked on your door a couple times without a response. he called your name. no response. eventually, he got out his spare key, letting himself in.

the place was in total darkness except for a small amount of light coming from your room. he opened the door slightly, wanting to know what was happening. he saw you at your desk crying. there was paper all around you. on the floor, on the desk, everywhere. some of it was scribbled over, some torn to pieces. it was a mess. he took small steps in your direction not wanting to make his presence known just yet. he lifted his hand and tapped your shoulder.

“y/n...are you okay?”

you quickly wiped your face, turning around and forcing a smile.

“i’m fine! what are you doing here?”

he looked at you with a disappointed expression. you forgot about the date. he looked into your eyes and saw how bloodshot they were. he saw how much pain you were in. your smile started to falter.

“we had a date. you didn’t show up so i got worried and came over.” he crouched down next to you “are you sure you’re okay?”

your breath got caught in your throat. you knew he’d be able to see through your lie. so why would you try and do it?

“i’m fine. nothings wrong. i’ve just been a little behind on school and we have tests coming up. i’m sorry i missed our date.”

he looked at you for a few seconds before pulling you into him. he rubbed your back and rested his chin on your shoulder.

“please...tell me the truth” his voice was calm.

and that’s when you broke down. you started sobbing into his shoulder. crying about how the stress of school has been too much for you. about how you were scared to fail or not get things in. how you couldn’t handle it anymore. he let you cry for a while before pulling back. he brought his hands out to your face and wiped your tears. he gave you a soft smile.

“everything’s gonna be okay. i promise. lets just take a little break so you can calm down. if you need any help i’ll be here”

sugawara koshi (463 words)

you kept canceling things with him. every time you two made plans, you canceled last minute coming up with a stupid excuse. he put up with it for awhile but it started to hurt. he got scared. were you cheating on him?

you canceled on him again. he kept calling you but you would never answer. he got tired of it and decided to see what you were doing.

he rushed over to your place, saying hi to your mom as he ran to your room. he swung your door open, startling you.

“s-suga? why are you here? i thought i told you i couldn’t make it...”

“you’ve canceled every date we’ve had for the past three weeks and i’m kinda tired of it. i want to spend time with you but you keep blowing me off. i thought you were cheating so i came over to see if you were or not”

you looked at your fingers, playing with them. you didn’t know what to say. you felt bad for canceling but you felt hurt because he thought you would cheat on him.

there was an awkward silence but it was ended by soft footsteps coming close to you. you felt a hand on your chin forcing you to look up.

“why have you been canceling our dates?”

you stayed silent. you didn’t want him to know how you haven’t been eating that much or sleeping. how many breakdowns you’ve had. you didn’t want him to worry.

“i...i don’t know”

he let go of your chin, letting out a deep sigh. he knew you were lying.

“y/n please tell me. i won’t be mad. i just want the truth”

you kept saying that was the truth and he kept saying it wasn’t. it went on like this for about 30 minutes before you cracked. you started sobbing and telling him what’s been happening. you told him that you didn’t wanna be seen as stupid because you kept failing quizzes and tests. you didn’t want to embarrass him. he pulled you off your desk chair and into his lap. he wrapped his arms around you, softly squeezing. he rubbed his hand down your back trying to calm you down.

“you’re perfect for me. you could never embarrass me okay? you’re not stupid, you’re not an idiot, you’re perfect. please tell me these things next time. i’m here for you. i’ll help you. you’re not alone.” he gave you a kiss on the forehead.

he pushed you off his lap and stood up, grabbing your hands and pulling you up with him.

“we’re gonna go get something to eat and then we’re gonna come back here so you can sleep. you need to stay healthy and strong. i don’t want anything happening to you.”

hinata shoyo (600 words)

you two were always hanging out. there was barely any time you spent apart. you loved being around him and he loved being around you but recently, you’ve been...distant. its not that you don’t love him or that you’re getting annoyed by him, you’ve just had a lot of schoolwork to do.

shoyo didn’t notice you not hanging out at first but eventually he noticed you spending less and less time with him. it hurt him. it made him feel like you didn’t want to be with him anymore.

he started to not answer your calls when you would call him (which was rarely!!). it hurt him to do it but if you wanted your space he would give it to you. he got tired of this tho. he missed you and missed being around you.

he got your favorite candy and favorite flowers. he made his way to your place, knocking on your door and greeting your mom. he went straight to your room, bursting in like the ball of mf sunshine he is.

you have been extremely stressed out and irritable lately. school hasn’t been the best for you. you fell behind in most of your classes and the work got harder. it took you longer to finish things which is why some of them were marked as missing. you’ve been trying to make it all up but it’s been a lot for you. so when shoyo came in all happy it annoyed you. you weren’t in a good enough mood to deal with him so you snapped when he tried to talk to you. you screamed at him and said some things you didn’t mean. things that hurt both of you. but you couldn’t stop. he started arguing back and then you told him to leave. you didn’t think he’d actually do it and you definitely didn’t think he’s be gone for this long.

you admit what you did was wrong but you couldn’t help it. that was the last straw. you felt bad but how could you apologize? whenever you saw eachother in the hallways he would always walk the opposite way even if he had to go in your direction. even if you were able to catch up with him he would ignore you and pretend like you didn’t exist. he wouldn’t answer your calls or texts. you didn’t know what to do.

you waited outside the gym until practice was over, hoping to catch him on the way out. after a long time it finally ended. you watch everyone walk out. everyone except for shoyo. you went up to daichi to ask where he was.

“oh hey y/n. he went home sick. did you not know...?”

you thanked him for telling you and ran towards his house. you knocked on the door, waiting for it to open. after a few minutes it opened to your boyfriend. his usual smile not on his face.

“why are you here. are you gonna yell at me for ‘bothering you’ and ‘being too clingy’ again?”

his words stabbed you like knives but you understood where it was coming from.

“i-i came to apologize.” you started crying “i was really stressed and everything was bothering me and i know that doesnt excuse it and i know you probably won’t forgi-” you were cut off by him hugging you.

“remember to breathe.” he held you closely, making sure you were actually there. the past few days were hard for him but he didn’t want to upset you again. you two made up and ended the night in cuddles and movies.

anyways that sucked 😀

tags (dm or send and ask to be added): @yourdaddychan @noyatonic @sunacor3 @yanjeongs @lov3ric @hotelhaikyuu @satosimp

[missjanjie]

Taste of a Poison Paradise | Chapter 8

Title: Taste of a Poison Paradise Summary: Life at Jackie Cox’s strip club, Poison Paradise, isn’t just lapdances and g-strings. There’s enough drama, lust, and heartache to rival any soap opera. None of the girls know what to expect on any given shift, especially while navigating their torrid, complicated relationships. Word Count: ~3k (this chapter) / ~24.2k (total) Relationship(s): Lemyanka (Lemon/Priyanka), Crygi (Crystal Methyd/Gigi Goode), Sportsdoll (Jan Sport/Nicky Doll), Jaidie (Jaida Essence Hall/Jackie Cox), BVK (Brooke Lynn Hytes/Vanessa Vanjie Mateo/Kameron Michaels), Rosnali (Rosé/Denali Foxx) Rating: E

Read on AO3 | Ko-Fi

Chapter Summary: Things seem to be going well for Lemon until they go really bad really fast. Things are actually going well for Jackie and Jaida.

-

For the next couple of weeks, it seemed like Lemon was on the mend. She had finished her finals, gotten through her senior year, and now it was time to celebrate. Hers and Gigi’s graduations were only a couple of days apart, so the group decided to combine their graduation party that weekend.

It was one of the rare times the club was closed on a Saturday, but Jackie wanted to make sure everyone could celebrate together and turned the main room into their party space. “Cheers,” she said, raising her glass, “to Lemon and Gigi, college graduates!”

The group clinked their glasses together and drank, everyone resuming their casual conversation, relaxed, and enjoying one another’s company. With the exception, of course, of Lemon and Priyanka, who were still trying to avoid each other like the plague.

“Look, I love those two as much as the rest of y’all, but I’ve stopped feeling sorry for them — at this point, it’s just annoying,” Kameron remarked as she watched the way they behaved with a grimace. “Not that it’s any of my business, but it kind of is considering how often I have to witness them, but how long were they hooking up for anyway?”

Vanessa furrowed her brows as she counted on her fingers. “Dunno, like four months?”

“Shit, that’s like a lesbian year,” she murmured, sipping her drink. “This isn’t gonna fix itself is it?”

“Not as long as Pri’s got that rock on her finger.”

“It could be worse,” Brooke Lynn chimed in, her lips pursed around the straw in her glass, “at least she doesn’t wear it to work, can you imagine the fit Lemon would throw if she had to stare down a diamond every day?”

The three of them looked at Lemon, who, at least for the moment, appeared to be enjoying herself, then at Priyanka, who was talking to Crystal and looking stressed.

“So, dress shopping is happening on Wednesday?” Crystal asked. “Does she know?”

“Of course she doesn’t know,” Priyanka scoffed and shook her head, “I have no idea how to keep her from knowing, no one can keep a secret in their family.”

Crystal winced but nodded. “Well, good luck,” she offered before Gigi made their way to her side and her attention immediately became divided.

“Thanks,” Priyanka mumbled, her gaze drifting to Lemon, who was talking animatedly to Jan and Rosé, “I’ll need it.”

------

By the time Wednesday rolled around, Priyanka’s nerves hadn’t quelled in the slightest. Lucky for her, at least, those with her — her mother, sister, and future mother-in-law wrote it off as pre-wedding jitters. Scarlett knew better, but there was no need to blow up her best friend’s spot like that.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to a more traditional store?” The mother-in-law asked, “I know Mark doesn’t want your culture to be ignored.”

“It will be two separate ceremonies,” Priyanka’s mom cut in before she could speak for herself, “she will be wearing her grandmother’s sari for that.”

Priyanka had to fight off the pained expression that tried to twist its way onto her face. It was only when she had broken the news to her family that she remembered what a big event weddings were in her family. She wasn’t about to get off lightly with this. Instead, she let the assistant at the shop lead her to a rack of dresses and suggested a few. She agreed to them without giving them a proper look, figuring she would let a majority rule.

Once she was in the first dress, she returned to the main room and stepped up on the platform in front of the mirrors. Right away, the women began discussing and debating the pros and cons of the dress — where it fit right, where it’d need to be taken in. But she couldn’t bring herself to focus on anything, instead zoning out to the song playing through the store’s speakers.

I'm living for the only thing I know I'm running and not quite sure where to go And I don't know what I'm diving into Just hanging by a moment here with you

Normally, Priyanka would roll her eyes at this sort of song, at the cheesy love in the lyrics. But with her only alternative being actively participating in shopping for a wedding dress, she listened to the music and let it resonate.

Desperate for changing Starving for truth I'm closer to where I started I'm chasing after you

She winced but blamed it on accidentally being stuck with a pin. They didn’t have to play a song that hit so close to home, she thought. It made it that much harder to ignore the feelings that bubbled up inside her. It was only then that she realized someone was talking to her. “Huh?”

“I asked if you liked the dress,” Scarlett replied.

“Oh,” she cleared her throat. “Yeah, it’s fine.” She then realized she should have been more convincing because she found herself ushered back into the dressing room to try on dress number two, which she would then force enthusiasm for so the day would end as soon as possible.

“Are you okay?” her mother asked with sincere concern.

Priyanka nodded as she stepped off the platform. “Just a little lightheaded, I didn’t have breakfast.”

“Well, let’s get this dress taken care of, then we’ll go get something to eat.”

She nodded again as she went back to change into her regular clothes. Maybe she did just need to eat, she thought. Maybe some food or a nap would bring her back into reality. The reality where she was preparing to get married. The reality that Lemon could no longer be the main character in, no matter what some stupid song was trying to tell her. Or even worse, no matter how much she wanted her to be.

------

“You don’t normally ask me to make house calls,” Jaida remarked as Jackie let her into the apartment, “is everything okay?”

Jackie exhaled deeply. No matter how many times she had rehearsed what she was going to say, she still ended up tongue-tied the second she laid eyes on her. But she was determined to work her way through this and not let nerves get the best of her. “I watched the video you did with Denali. I… I watched it more times than I’d like to admit,” she confessed. “And I can’t get the image of you fucking her out of my mind. But more specifically… I can’t stop picturing myself in her place.”

Jaida had to put all of her mental energy into fighting off a smug grin. She wanted to choose her words carefully, not wanting to overwhelm an already anxious Jackie. “Since we’re being honest here, that’s kinda what I was aiming for,” at Jackie’s confused reaction, she continued, “you could have been less obvious with your username and how you talk online. Maybe it’s ‘cause I know you so well, but I could read all of your messages in your voice.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured to confront how you felt, considering your coming out was still fresh for you. I just wanted you to know that the option was there whenever you were ready.”

There was a silent beat before Jackie swallowed thickly and told her, “I’m ready.”

“Then tell me what you want, baby.”

“I want you to fuck me.” The words felt foreign for Jackie to say, the phrase has never left her lips with any sort of sincerity before. But at the same time, she had never been more certain in her life about what she wanted and how badly she wanted it.

Jaida moved to Jackie, wrapping her arms around her waist and kissing her deeply. “I’m gonna take good care of you, okay?” she promised as they made their way to the bedroom.

And Jackie trusted her, she trusted her more than she would have anyone else in this position. She let Jaida take her to bed, let her take her time undressing her and pressing kisses to every newly exposed inch of skin. She eagerly helped her clothes off as well, letting her hands roam her body in ways she had only fantasized about.

“I don’t want you to be afraid of being loud,” Jaida told her. “I wanna hear you, wanna know how good I’m making you feel.” As she spoke, her fingers glided down Jackie’s body, stopping between her thighs before starting to rub her clit in small, firm circles.

Jackie’s head tilted back into the pillows, soft moans spilling from her lips. Her body yielded to Jaida’s touch and her moans grew louder as the other woman eased one finger into her, thrusting and curling it before adding another and picking up a steady rhythm.

“Good girl,” she praised, trailing kisses down her body. She then slowly eased her fingers out and replaced them with her tongue, licking and thrusting at a similar pace while her fingers moved to rub her clit in tandem.

It wasn’t long before the sensation became overwhelming and Jackie’s hips started to jerk erratically. She barely managed to squeak out a warning before she came harder than she ever had before, her body trembling when she was spent. “Oh my god…”

Jaida came back up and laid beside her. “Are you okay?” she asked softly, pushing the hair out of her face.

“I’m good,” Jackie assured. “I just… I haven’t… it, um…”

“Jackie…” she furrowed her brows and sat up a bit, “have you ever been with a woman before?”

Jackie’s face turned a deep shade of red. “I have, kind of. It’s been hard to work through so many years of repression and internalized homophobia, you know? I’ve made out with girls, fooled around a bit. But I guess no, I’ve never properly had sex with another woman before. I wouldn’t have wanted to put that pressure on you anyway. Besides, I couldn’t have asked for a better first time.”

Jaida exhaled deeply, suddenly becoming aware of the weight that’d built upon her chest. “Then that’s all I needed to hear.”

------

“There’s a birthday party out there tonight,” Gigi remarked offhandedly as they and Lemon got ready in the quick-change room. “I know how much you love those,” they added with an overly exaggerated eye roll.

Lemon groaned. Birthdays and bachelor parties were tied for the worst groups of men to deal with as clients, the only exceptions being the ones that take it as an opportunity to go all out and tip well. “And you’re on the stage next?” she let out another disgruntled whine when they nodded, finishing off her cocktail. “Gonna get a refill, gonna need it for doing rounds.” Naturally, when she went to the bar, she went right to Crystal. The downside was Crystal knew to cut her off after three drinks and she had to flirt with men to keep the drinks coming.

“You’re getting your third one this early?” Crystal questioned as she mixed it for her. “Something on your mind?”

“Nope. Just got a birthday party that’s probably all gonna want lap dances,” she replied, taking a swig as soon as she got the drink in her hand. Sure, it didn’t help that she had seen Scarlett’s instagram post of Priyanka in her wedding dress earlier, but she wasn’t about to hash that out, especially not with the bride-to-be all of four feet away.

And Crystal wasn’t entirely convinced, but she knew there was no use in pushing further. “Well, good luck,” she offered.

Lemon set her empty glass on the counter before making her way through the crowd. It took a little while before she ended up in the vicinity of the group of men, and not long after that, they flagged her down. At first, it was business as usual, though she couldn’t shake the feeling that one of the men seemed familiar.

“Hey Mark,” the man celebrating his birthday remarked, “maybe we should come back here for your bachelor party. I bet Priyanka won’t mind!” he laughed.

That made Lemon freeze in her tracks as it all clicked. She saw red and her blood boiled with a wave of anger and loathing she had never felt before. Something inside of her took over, she hadn’t even realized she had thrown a drink in his face and screamed at him until Kameron was pulling her away and all eyes in the club were on her, including Priyanka’s, who had dropped everything to run over the second she heard Lemon scream.

“Who the hell are you?” Mark asked incredulously.

“I’m who your fianceé thinks about while you’re fucking her,” Lemon snarled while locked in Kameron’s grasp.

It was then that both Mark and Lemon realized Priyanka was right there. “What the fuck is she talking about, Pri?”

Priyanka felt her heart drop into the pit of her stomach as she prayed for the floor to open up beneath her so the ground would swallow her whole. She knew she had been playing a dangerous game, but she could have never predicted that it would blow up in her face this badly. “I-”

“She’s never gonna love you,” Lemon continued with disdain in her voice. But then her tone softened to a calm, albeit distant one. “But don’t worry,” she looked towards Priyanka, their eyes meeting, “she’s never gonna love me either.”

Other than the music playing in the background, the room was silent as Lemon let Kameron take her upstairs to the common room. “How are you feeling?” she asked gently as she sat at the other end of the couch, resting her hand on the smaller girl’s leg. “You really caused a scene back there.”

“Whatever,” she mumbled. “He was gonna find out eventually. You can’t live a lie forever,” she hiccuped as she sprawled her barely-dressed body out. “I need another drink.”

“The only thing you’re drinking is water,” she said sternly, getting up and grabbing a water bottle from the fridge and bringing it back, propping Lemon up enough so she could drink. “I’m gonna call Rosé and have her take you home, I don’t think you should stick around tonight,” she told her as she fished her phone from her pocket.

Lemon nodded and pushed herself to sit up properly. She hung her head down, intentionally hiding her face from Kameron as she sniffled quietly. “Pri’s gonna hate me now, isn’t she?”

Kameron winced, unsure of how honest she should be with someone both drunk and emotionally unstable. “I think once the dust settles, you two are going to have to have a long talk. It’s not gonna be easy, but it’s gonna be the only way you two have a shot at healing.”

“I ruined her marriage.”

She shook her head. “She ruined her marriage the moment she said yes to someone she didn’t want to be with. She probably would’ve gotten cold feet and left him at the altar,” she mused, both out of her honest belief and the hope that she could get Lemon to crack a smile. And once she did, she felt comfortable getting back up and calling Rosé, warning her of exactly what happened.

“I got here as fast as I could,” Rosé announced once she made it upstairs. “Three different guys tried to buy lap dances off me on the way, sorry,” she added before rushing to her cousin’s side. “You’ve done it now, huh, Lem?” she shook her head as she helped her to her feet.

Vanessa emerged from the locker room with the rest of Lemon’s belongings. “Here, you might wanna get her changed before you take her back outta here.”

Kameron furrowed her brows. “You know her locker combination?”

“Um… yes?” she tucked a bobby pin into her back pocket. “This ain’t about me,” she was quick to change the subject and helped Lemon get changed.

Rosé effectively ignored the entire exchange, saying her goodbyes to the other women before driving Lemon back home and getting her changed again, this time into pajamas. “Mik isn’t home, you can sleep in her bed,” she offered.

Lemon chewed her lip for a moment, then shook her head. “Can I stay with you? I just… I don’t wanna be by myself.”

“Of course, baby,” she assured and tucked her into bed. “Do you need anything? Water? Something to eat?”

“Need to wake up in a world where none of this happened.”

Rosé sighed sadly. “Fresh out, unfortunately.” She changed as well before joining her in bed. “Just wake me if you need anything, okay?” When she got a nod of confirmation, she turned the lights off and called it a night.

But that wasn’t the case for Lemon. No, she wouldn’t be so lucky. Even though she had been drunk, the incident replayed in her mind in great detail no matter how many times she tried to shut it off. That, coupled with struggling to sort through the mix of emotions still swirling through her, kept her awake for another hour or so before exhaustion took over and she passed out.

And back at the club, everyone else was left to pick up the pieces of the explosive incident. But as much as the clientele was willing to move past what they’d witnessed, none of the employees could get themselves to carry on. So, with Jackie’s blessing, they called it an early night and nearly everyone went back home.

Priyanka hung back, seeking solace in Jackie’s office, knowing her boss might be the only one that could understand the gravity of the fallout. “What the fuck am I supposed to do now, Jackie? This is effectively outing me to everyone. And I look bad too, they’re gonna find out I’m gay and a cheater in one go. What should I do?”

Jackie sighed, her heart truly breaking for her. “I wish there was an easy answer for this. I think, for now, you just need to get through the night.”

And Priyanka would, though she was afraid to fall asleep, overwhelmed with the need to postpone tomorrow as long as she could, because she had run out of ways to hide or lie her way out of it.

[artificialqueens]

Taste of a Poison Paradise, Chapter 8 (Multi) - Joley

Chapter Summary: Things seem to be going well for Lemon until they go really bad really fast. Things are actually going well for Jackie and Jaida.

ao3 link

For the next couple of weeks, it seemed like Lemon was on the mend. She had finished her finals, gotten through her senior year, and now it was time to celebrate. Hers and Gigi’s graduations were only a couple of days apart, so the group decided to combine their graduation party that weekend.

It was one of the rare times the club was closed on a Saturday, but Jackie wanted to make sure everyone could celebrate together and turned the main room into their party space. “Cheers,” she said, raising her glass, “to Lemon and Gigi, college graduates!”

The group clinked their glasses together and drank, everyone resuming their casual conversation, relaxed, and enjoying one another’s company. With the exception, of course, of Lemon and Priyanka, who were still trying to avoid each other like the plague.

“Look, I love those two as much as the rest of y’all, but I’ve stopped feeling sorry for them — at this point, it’s just annoying,” Kameron remarked as she watched the way they behaved with a grimace. “Not that it’s any of my business, but it kind of is considering how often I have to witness them, but how long were they hooking up for anyway?”

Vanessa furrowed her brows as she counted on her fingers. “Dunno, like four months?”

“Shit, that’s like a lesbian year,” she murmured, sipping her drink. “This isn’t gonna fix itself is it?”

“Not as long as Pri’s got that rock on her finger.”

“It could be worse,” Brooke Lynn chimed in, her lips pursed around the straw in her glass, “at least she doesn’t wear it to work, can you imagine the fit Lemon would throw if she had to stare down a diamond every day?”

The three of them looked at Lemon, who, at least for the moment, appeared to be enjoying herself, then at Priyanka, who was talking to Crystal and looking stressed.

“So, dress shopping is happening on Wednesday?” Crystal asked. “Does she know?”

“Of course she doesn’t know,” Priyanka scoffed and shook her head, “I have no idea how to keep her from knowing, no one can keep a secret in their family.”

Crystal winced but nodded. “Well, good luck,” she offered before Gigi made their way to her side and her attention immediately became divided.

“Thanks,” Priyanka mumbled, her gaze drifting to Lemon, who was talking animatedly to Jan and Rosé, “I’ll need it.”

——

By the time Wednesday rolled around, Priyanka’s nerves hadn’t quelled in the slightest. Lucky for her, at least, those with her — her mother, sister, and future mother-in-law wrote it off as pre-wedding jitters. Scarlett knew better, but there was no need to blow up her best friend’s spot like that.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to a more traditional store?” The mother-in-law asked, “I know Mark doesn’t want your culture to be ignored.”

“It will be two separate ceremonies,” Priyanka’s mom cut in before she could speak for herself, “she will be wearing her grandmother’s sari for that.”

Priyanka had to fight off the pained expression that tried to twist its way onto her face. It was only when she had broken the news to her family that she remembered what a big event weddings were in her family. She wasn’t about to get off lightly with this. Instead, she let the assistant at the shop lead her to a rack of dresses and suggested a few. She agreed to them without giving them a proper look, figuring she would let a majority rule.

Once she was in the first dress, she returned to the main room and stepped up on the platform in front of the mirrors. Right away, the women began discussing and debating the pros and cons of the dress — where it fit right, where it’d need to be taken in. But she couldn’t bring herself to focus on anything, instead zoning out to the song playing through the store’s speakers.

I’m living for the only thing I know I’m running and not quite sure where to go And I don’t know what I’m diving into Just hanging by a moment here with you

Normally, Priyanka would roll her eyes at this sort of song, at the cheesy love in the lyrics. But with her only alternative being actively participating in shopping for a wedding dress, she listened to the music and let it resonate.

Desperate for changing Starving for truth I’m closer to where I started I’m chasing after you

She winced but blamed it on accidentally being stuck with a pin. They didn’t have to play a song that hit so close to home, she thought. It made it that much harder to ignore the feelings that bubbled up inside her. It was only then that she realized someone was talking to her. “Huh?”

“I asked if you liked the dress,” Scarlett replied.

“Oh,” she cleared her throat. “Yeah, it’s fine.” She then realized she should have been more convincing because she found herself ushered back into the dressing room to try on dress number two, which she would then force enthusiasm for so the day would end as soon as possible.

“Are you okay?” her mother asked with sincere concern.

Priyanka nodded as she stepped off the platform. “Just a little lightheaded, I didn’t have breakfast.”

“Well, let’s get this dress taken care of, then we’ll go get something to eat.”

She nodded again as she went back to change into her regular clothes. Maybe she did just need to eat, she thought. Maybe some food or a nap would bring her back into reality. The reality where she was preparing to get married. The reality that Lemon could no longer be the main character in, no matter what some stupid song was trying to tell her. Or even worse, no matter how much she wanted her to be.

——

“You don’t normally ask me to make house calls,” Jaida remarked as Jackie let her into the apartment, “is everything okay?”

Jackie exhaled deeply. No matter how many times she had rehearsed what she was going to say, she still ended up tongue-tied the second she laid eyes on her. But she was determined to work her way through this and not let nerves get the best of her. “I watched the video you did with Denali. I… I watched it more times than I’d like to admit,” she confessed. “And I can’t get the image of you fucking her out of my mind. But more specifically… I can’t stop picturing myself in her place.”

Jaida had to put all of her mental energy into fighting off a smug grin. She wanted to choose her words carefully, not wanting to overwhelm an already anxious Jackie. “Since we’re being honest here, that’s kinda what I was aiming for,” at Jackie’s confused reaction, she continued, “you could have been less obvious with your username and how you talk online. Maybe it’s ‘cause I know you so well, but I could read all of your messages in your voice.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured to confront how you felt, considering your coming out was still fresh for you. I just wanted you to know that the option was there whenever you were ready.”

There was a silent beat before Jackie swallowed thickly and told her, “I’m ready.”

“Then tell me what you want, baby.”

“I want you to fuck me.” The words felt foreign for Jackie to say, the phrase has never left her lips with any sort of sincerity before. But at the same time, she had never been more certain in her life about what she wanted and how badly she wanted it.

Jaida moved to Jackie, wrapping her arms around her waist and kissing her deeply. “I’m gonna take good care of you, okay?” she promised as they made their way to the bedroom.

And Jackie trusted her, she trusted her more than she would have anyone else in this position. She let Jaida take her to bed, let her take her time undressing her and pressing kisses to every newly exposed inch of skin. She eagerly helped her clothes off as well, letting her hands roam her body in ways she had only fantasized about.

“I don’t want you to be afraid of being loud,” Jaida told her. “I wanna hear you, wanna know how good I’m making you feel.” As she spoke, her fingers glided down Jackie’s body, stopping between her thighs before starting to rub her clit in small, firm circles.

Jackie’s head tilted back into the pillows, soft moans spilling from her lips. Her body yielded to Jaida’s touch and her moans grew louder as the other woman eased one finger into her, thrusting and curling it before adding another and picking up a steady rhythm.

“Good girl,” she praised, trailing kisses down her body. She then slowly eased her fingers out and replaced them with her tongue, licking and thrusting at a similar pace while her fingers moved to rub her clit in tandem.

It wasn’t long before the sensation became overwhelming and Jackie’s hips started to jerk erratically. She barely managed to squeak out a warning before she came harder than she ever had before, her body trembling when she was spent. “Oh my god…”

Jaida came back up and laid beside her. “Are you okay?” she asked softly, pushing the hair out of her face.

“I’m good,” Jackie assured. “I just… I haven’t… it, um…”

“Jackie…” she furrowed her brows and sat up a bit, “have you ever been with a woman before?”

Jackie’s face turned a deep shade of red. “I have, kind of. It’s been hard to work through so many years of repression and internalized homophobia, you know? I’ve made out with girls, fooled around a bit. But I guess no, I’ve never properly had sex with another woman before. I wouldn’t have wanted to put that pressure on you anyway. Besides, I couldn’t have asked for a better first time.”

Jaida exhaled deeply, suddenly becoming aware of the weight that’d built upon her chest. “Then that’s all I needed to hear.”

——

“There’s a birthday party out there tonight,” Gigi remarked offhandedly as they and Lemon got ready in the quick-change room. “I know how much you love those,” they added with an overly exaggerated eye roll.

Lemon groaned. Birthdays and bachelor parties were tied for the worst groups of men to deal with as clients, the only exceptions being the ones that take it as an opportunity to go all out and tip well. “And you’re on the stage next?” she let out another disgruntled whine when they nodded, finishing off her cocktail. “Gonna get a refill, gonna need it for doing rounds.” Naturally, when she went to the bar, she went right to Crystal. The downside was Crystal knew to cut her off after three drinks and she had to flirt with men to keep the drinks coming.

“You’re getting your third one this early?” Crystal questioned as she mixed it for her. “Something on your mind?”

“Nope. Just got a birthday party that’s probably all gonna want lap dances,” she replied, taking a swig as soon as she got the drink in her hand. Sure, it didn’t help that she had seen Scarlett’s instagram post of Priyanka in her wedding dress earlier, but she wasn’t about to hash that out, especially not with the bride-to-be all of four feet away.

And Crystal wasn’t entirely convinced, but she knew there was no use in pushing further. “Well, good luck,” she offered.

Lemon set her empty glass on the counter before making her way through the crowd. It took a little while before she ended up in the vicinity of the group of men, and not long after that, they flagged her down. At first, it was business as usual, though she couldn’t shake the feeling that one of the men seemed familiar.

“Hey Mark,” the man celebrating his birthday remarked, “maybe we should come back here for your bachelor party. I bet Priyanka won’t mind!” he laughed.

That made Lemon freeze in her tracks as it all clicked. She saw red and her blood boiled with a wave of anger and loathing she had never felt before. Something inside of her took over, she hadn’t even realized she had thrown a drink in his face and screamed at him until Kameron was pulling her away and all eyes in the club were on her, including Priyanka’s, who had dropped everything to run over the second she heard Lemon scream.

“Who the hell are you?” Mark asked incredulously.

“I’m who your fianceé thinks about while you’re fucking her,” Lemon snarled while locked in Kameron’s grasp.

It was then that both Mark and Lemon realized Priyanka was right there. “What the fuck is she talking about, Pri?”

Priyanka felt her heart drop into the pit of her stomach as she prayed for the floor to open up beneath her so the ground would swallow her whole. She knew she had been playing a dangerous game, but she could have never predicted that it would blow up in her face this badly. “I-”

“She’s never gonna love you,” Lemon continued with disdain in her voice. But then her tone softened to a calm, albeit distant one. “But don’t worry,” she looked towards Priyanka, their eyes meeting, “she’s never gonna love me either.”

Other than the music playing in the background, the room was silent as Lemon let Kameron take her upstairs to the common room. “How are you feeling?” she asked gently as she sat at the other end of the couch, resting her hand on the smaller girl’s leg. “You really caused a scene back there.”

“Whatever,” she mumbled. “He was gonna find out eventually. You can’t live a lie forever,” she hiccuped as she sprawled her barely-dressed body out. “I need another drink.”

“The only thing you’re drinking is water,” she said sternly, getting up and grabbing a water bottle from the fridge and bringing it back, propping Lemon up enough so she could drink. “I’m gonna call Rosé and have her take you home, I don’t think you should stick around tonight,” she told her as she fished her phone from her pocket.

Lemon nodded and pushed herself to sit up properly. She hung her head down, intentionally hiding her face from Kameron as she sniffled quietly. “Pri’s gonna hate me now, isn’t she?”

Kameron winced, unsure of how honest she should be with someone both drunk and emotionally unstable. “I think once the dust settles, you two are going to have to have a long talk. It’s not gonna be easy, but it’s gonna be the only way you two have a shot at healing.”

“I ruined her marriage.”

She shook her head. “She ruined her marriage the moment she said yes to someone she didn’t want to be with. She probably would’ve gotten cold feet and left him at the altar,” she mused, both out of her honest belief and the hope that she could get Lemon to crack a smile. And once she did, she felt comfortable getting back up and calling Rosé, warning her of exactly what happened.

“I got here as fast as I could,” Rosé announced once she made it upstairs. “Three different guys tried to buy lap dances off me on the way, sorry,” she added before rushing to her cousin’s side. “You’ve done it now, huh, Lem?” she shook her head as she helped her to her feet.

Vanessa emerged from the locker room with the rest of Lemon’s belongings. “Here, you might wanna get her changed before you take her back outta here.”

Kameron furrowed her brows. “You know her locker combination?”

“Um… yes?” she tucked a bobby pin into her back pocket. “This ain’t about me,” she was quick to change the subject and helped Lemon get changed.

Rosé effectively ignored the entire exchange, saying her goodbyes to the other women before driving Lemon back home and getting her changed again, this time into pajamas. “Mik isn’t home, you can sleep in her bed,” she offered.

Lemon chewed her lip for a moment, then shook her head. “Can I stay with you? I just… I don’t wanna be by myself.”

“Of course, baby,” she assured and tucked her into bed. “Do you need anything? Water? Something to eat?”

“Need to wake up in a world where none of this happened.”

Rosé sighed sadly. “Fresh out, unfortunately.” She changed as well before joining her in bed. “Just wake me if you need anything, okay?” When she got a nod of confirmation, she turned the lights off and called it a night.

But that wasn’t the case for Lemon. No, she wouldn’t be so lucky. Even though she had been drunk, the incident replayed in her mind in great detail no matter how many times she tried to shut it off. That, coupled with struggling to sort through the mix of emotions still swirling through her, kept her awake for another hour or so before exhaustion took over and she passed out.

And back at the club, everyone else was left to pick up the pieces of the explosive incident. But as much as the clientele was willing to move past what they’d witnessed, none of the employees could get themselves to carry on. So, with Jackie’s blessing, they called it an early night and nearly everyone went back home.

Priyanka hung back, seeking solace in Jackie’s office, knowing her boss might be the only one that could understand the gravity of the fallout. “What the fuck am I supposed to do now, Jackie? This is effectively outing me to everyone. And I look bad too, they’re gonna find out I’m gay and a cheater in one go. What should I do?”

Jackie sighed, her heart truly breaking for her. “I wish there was an easy answer for this. I think, for now, you just need to get through the night.”

And Priyanka would, though she was afraid to fall asleep, overwhelmed with the need to postpone tomorrow as long as she could, because she had run out of ways to hide or lie her way out of it.

[thotantics]

Can you please do a jungkook breakup sex oneshot?! 💕

Whatever It Takes

⚤   pairing — reader + Jeon Jungkook

✎ word count — 6,913

✦ genre — angst, smut

✗ warnings  — graphic description of sex, sad bunny jungoo, tears, oral sex, fingering idk this one’s tame but it’s sad sldkfjou

[A/N] no one: literally nobody at all:me, an idiot: u know what my masterlist needs? More Jungkook. this took Way Too Long for me to finish, and it’s TECHNICALLY not break up sex?? i guess??? but it also kinda is so. i hope this will do

He knew it was coming. The air between you had changed for the last few weeks, and he had sensed it from the moment it began. You were pulling away from him, and as much as it hurt, what else could he do but give you space?

The best he could hope for at first was that it was some outside interference that, after some time, would fade and he’d have you back the way he used to. Maybe you were stressed and needed some time alone. He was willing to give that to you, with the hope in his heart that you’d come right back to him, and things could go back to the way they used to be.

As time passed, however, Jungkook was losing more of you and the ache in his chest was worsening every time you refused to look into his eyes, every time you resisted his touch, every time you didn’t call him back, even though you had promised him you would…despite his best efforts he had come to think that whatever was going on with you, maybe it was his fault.

Maybe you never intended to call him back, and the promises to do so were to pacify him. The thought briefly pushed aside the hurt that had been building in him, and he found himself feeling angry. You weren’t supposed to lie to him. Whatever he had done wrong, he was certain he didn’t deserve to be lied to. Not after everything you had been through together.

Your relationship had started off rocky. Nobody expected you to last as long as you had, but yet you endured. Together. Only to make it to this point? Where you were lying to him about returning phone calls, lying to him about being at work or busy with your friends. Jungkook wasn’t stupid. Observant and intuitive, it didn’t take him long at all to catch on to what was really happening.

You were going to break up with him.

Part of him wanted to slink back into the safety of his bedroom, hide from the world, and sulk about this. Another part of him was defiant. If you wanted to try to dump him, maybe he wouldn’t let you. He kept trying, once he figured out what was going on, to get you alone so you could talk about it, really talk. The most he had gotten out of you so far was that you were “tired”, you were “overworked”, and that you were “fine”. More lies.

He had known all along that your relationship was going to take a lot of hard work. Being an idol had its perks, but dating definitely wasn’t one of them. He felt cut off from the rest of the world in a lot of ways, despite his public appearance. Smiley, happy, silly Jungkook was deeply troubled by the separation from his public life and his private life. He didn’t want to hide you. He didn’t want to lie about his relationship status. He never did. Maybe his fans would accept you, if they knew. Maybe they would love you as much as he did, but he was starting to think that he would never know.

When you finally agreed to let him come to your house late one evening, he was sure that this was it. The moment he had been dreading. Your posture was entirely different; not how a woman stood when she was alone in a room with her boyfriend, but how a stranger stands in front of another stranger. It made his heart sink from the very moment he stepped foot into your apartment.

“I brought you these..” Jungkook offers you a modest bouquet of colorful flowers. He used to bring you flowers every time he saw you when you first started dating, but he wasn’t sure why he ever stopped. Was it because he saw you too frequently? Maybe if he continued with this simple gesture, and overflowed your home with flowers every single time he saw you, it would make a difference somehow. Did the absence of floral arrangements really have any significance in your relationship, or was he just grasping at straws by this point?

The way you greeted him was different than the last time. Your tight hug had lingered on him for days after he saw you last, but this time you barely touched his shoulder and left a tight-lipped kiss on his cheek, and even then that only served as thanks for the flowers as you went to the kitchen and searched for a spot to put them. He trailed behind you almost mournfully.

That’s when you turned to face him and your lips parted and then shut. You wanted to say something, but you were stopping yourself. Hopefully, he met your eyes, lifting his brows as a silent encouragement to continue. Then you dropped the bomb.

“Jungkook… we need to talk.”

Something changed in that moment in him, mentally and physically. His chest swelled indignantly, and his eyes were narrowed as he studied your features. Your sorry eyes, the corners of your lips turned down, your hands wringing together nervously.

“I don’t want to talk.” He says before you can say anything else. You frown more deeply at him for a moment and open your mouth to protest, but he cuts you off, “I know what you’re going to say.” He says, “And I really don’t wanna talk right now.”

“But, Jung-”

“No.” He insists, and in two long strides he’s right in front of you, his expression dark but his touch is tender as he tucks your hair behind your ear, his hand settling comfortably on your shoulder. “Not yet. Please.”

Confused, you attempt to reason with him, “But, I… I really need to do thi-”

“No, you don’t.” He insists, and then his other arm reaches out, winding behind your lower back, pulling you against him. “Not right now. Right now… you just need to kiss me.”

He can see it in your eyes, the fact that you don’t want to disappoint him. You don’t want to hurt him. But that you’re going to, anyway. The regret, the hesitation, the fear. It’s all there, pooling in your eyes and threatening to spill down your cheeks, but he won’t let it. He leans down and kisses you, so tender that his lips feel soft as the petals of the flowers he offered you moments earlier, and his thumbs move to graze delicately under your eyes, wiping away the tears before they can fall.

“Please, baby,” He whispers, his forehead bowing down to meet your own, eyes squeezing shut as desperation and sadness makes his voice waver and his hands quiver, “We can talk later. First, I just… I need you to… just kiss me. Please.”

The silence that follows his plea is deafening, and for a few terrifying, heart-wrenching seconds, he thinks you’re going to turn him down. He opens his eyes, ready to face the inevitable, but instead of the look of harsh rejection on your features, he finds tenderness instead. Then he feels your hands on his stomach, bunching the fabric of his shirt in your fists, and he realizes something else in your eyes that he couldn’t identify at first glance; was it pity?

You kiss him before he can fully register the look on your face. His mind is reeling for the first couple of seconds; are you sorry? Are you sorry for lying to him? Or for keeping him in the dark when you were clearly struggling with something? Or are you sorry that you’re going to dump him, anyway? Are you leading him on right now? Whatever the reason for kissing him back, Jungkook pushes those thoughts aside, trying to focus on the feel of you against him for the first time in weeks.

It’s bittersweet, but he won’t let it sully the taste of you on the tip of his tongue. He cradles you against him, trying to show you with more than words how precious you are to him, how much he loves you, because he knows by the end of this kiss, you’re still going to want to talk to him. He’s hoping with every fiber of his being that he can prove something with more than mere words, at least in the short amount of time he’s got left.

Yet, the kiss lingers, and the time he clung to, afraid he only had mere seconds, extends to much, much longer. The kiss grows needier, hungrier. Jungkook’s backing you up to the kitchen counter when he feels your hands tangle in his hair, and you moan softly as he nips lightly at your jaw before he hikes you up effortlessly to sit on the countertop.

Standing between your spread thighs, he pulls back from kissing your throat to look into your eyes, hesitating. He doesn’t want to push his luck. He doesn’t want to upset you any further than he guesses that he already has. But your hands cling onto his shoulders and you shift forward a bit on the counter, connecting your lower bodies, and he moves back in to kiss you again.

Once again, thoughts of doubt, hurt, and anger creep back to the forefront of his mind, and Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut, planting his hands firmly on the counter at either side of your hips, willing himself to focus on the now. You’re kissing him back just as fervently as he is you, and the fact soothes at least a small part of him. Regardless of why you’re letting this happen, you are, and he knows from the bottom of his heart, he can’t mess this up, that he has to savor it. Because maybe it’ll be the last chance he ever has with you. To fix things, to win you over again… or maybe just the last chance he’ll have to kiss you.

So he kisses you harder. He brings his hands up, fists once clenched angrily now tender as he cups your cheeks and tilts your head back, tongue searching into the depths of your mouth. You moan against him and he strokes down the sides of your neck, one hand moving into your hair and the other going just a little lower, resting on the top of your breasts but not yet touching you there. Not yet. Maybe you wouldn’t want him to take it that far. He had to be careful.

He felt like he was walking on eggshells, even as he pulls back from your lips and kisses down your jaw. You tilt your head back, leaning your weight onto your hands resting behind your back on the counter, and Jungkook takes advantage of the exposure of your neck, sucking briefly on a spot he knows would make your toes curl. Just as he expected, latching onto that special spot, you fling one arm around his neck, hand in his hair, and hold him there with a soft whimper. He smiles against your skin, grazing that same spot with his teeth as his hips surge forward of their own accord.

He’s only about half hard in his pants, thanks to the war he was waging silently in his own head. Normally having your lips on his alone was enough to get him ready to bend you over and take you but it seemed even his body was cautious in this tender moment, unwilling to ruin it with an over eager erection.

Yet the moment his hips lurch forward, you flex your thighs around him, lifting one leg up a little higher, hooking it around his back, and Jungkook’s hand flies out to keep it there. Hand clinging just behind your knee, his hips rocket forward again to press himself against you. He can feel you moan, the vibrations from your throat tickling against his lips as he travels back up to your mouth, tongue slipping inside so he can swallow the sound as he presses forward with his hips one more time, for good measure.

“We need to stop..” You breathe suddenly against his lips, turning your head away to break the kiss and Jungkook’s heart drops.

“No,” he says, but it comes out more desperate than he intended, “We don’t, we can keep going, we-”

He’s trying to cup your face, to make you look at him, to tilt your lips back to his own but you resist, turning away from him, wiping the remnants of his kiss on the back of your hand. “I didn’t invite you over here for this, Jungkook. I need to talk to you. It’s important.”

He’s been trying so hard to keep his cool but he can feel the hurt and the anger boiling over in him and he’s unable to keep it under wraps any longer, snapping, “I know you want to break up, I’m not fucking stupid!”

The look on your face when you finally meet his eyes again makes him stop and slow his roll. Immediately he regrets his outburst, however brief. He instantly wishes he was calmer, that he could control his emotions but he couldn’t do it anymore. He’d spent the last few weeks watching you lose interest in him hopelessly, and he couldn’t idly sit back and let it happen anymore.

“I don’t know why. Honestly at this point, it doesn’t matter why, because it’s happening and there’s nothing I could do at the time to stop it.” Jungkook tells you, doing his best to not sound angry but all he managed instead was to sound pathetic. He knows he does by the way your brows knit together and your eyes mist over like you’re staring at an abused old dog at a shelter. He sniffs, trying to reign in his emotions. “But I’m not ready to talk to you about it. Not yet. Not until I do what I came here to do.”

“What did you come here to do?” You ask.

“To change your mind.” Jungkook says. “Or at least give you something else to consider. Maybe… I can prove to you I can do better. And that you don’t have to do this.” He grasps your hands, and he wants to weep in relief when you don’t pull away from him this time, your eyes focusing sadly on your joined hands, thumbs rubbing over his knuckles.

“You can’t change my mind.” You tell him after a moment, not daring to lift your eyes to his own. “This isn’t… it’s not anything you could have done better, Jungkook. You did everything perfect, you always have. It’s not about that. I… I don’t have another choice.”

“You’re wrong.” He tells you assuredly, and he steps forward again between your legs, “Just keep kissing me.” His hands, shaking, grip tentatively at your waist, “Let me hold you. I promise I can prove you wrong if you give me one last chance.”

He can tell your resolve, what little of it you had mustered to stop kissing him, was fading. Your hand smooths up his forearm, nails biting lightly into his skin and he knows as you bite your lower lip and sniffle to stop your tears that this is definitely the last chance he’s going to have.

Mustering up the last of his courage, he angles his head down, forcing you to meet his eyes, then he presses forward and kisses the corner of your mouth. “Please.” He murmurs when he pulls back just a breath away from you, “We can talk later. Just let me show you now that I love you, and you love me. Just one last time. This is all I’ve got.”

“Jungkook..” You protest but he gives you the saddest puppy eyes he can manage, his lower lip puckering, and he sees you crack when you look away, hiding a smile through the tears threatening to fall. He smiles back briefly, but the moment is fleeting when you look back up at his face. You look defeated. Which isn’t what he wanted… not at all.

He hoped he could make you smile, make you roll your eyes at him in that fond sort of way you always had. Heart splintering in his chest, he scans your face, but you sit there looking back at him expressionless before you finally tell him, “Do whatever it is you came here to do.”

“Love you.” He says, “I just, I-I came here to love you.”

“Go ahead.” You tell him quietly, but nothing about this feels as victorious as when he sat you up on this counter, or when he sank inside of you for the first time, or kissed your lips for the first time. It feels tainted. Spoiled.

For a long moment, Jungkook considers giving up. It feels more hopeless now than it has since you started pulling away from him. But he’s never been one to sit down and admit defeat. He can’t start now. Puffing up his chest with a lung full of air, Jungkook plants his hands on the counter at either side of your hips, and he bows his forehead to your own.

“Do you remember what it used to be like?” He asks quietly, his nose bumping into your own whenever you shut your eyes and nod sadly in response. “I used to think nothing could stop us. The whole world could crash down around us and I thought we’d be standing there at the end of it all, together.”

He reaches up and wipes the tears trailing down your cheeks before he crashes you against his chest in a bone crushing embrace. He feels hopelessly lost, unsure what to do, how to feel, how to stop this from happening. It’s more inevitable now than ever that he can’t win, but he knows he can’t give up on you this easily. He can’t talk about your love in the past tense, like it doesn’t still consume him entirely.

The thought of not doing enough now to keep you with him, that he could lose you if he fails in this moment, makes him bold enough to cup your face and whisper for you to open your eyes to look at him. When you do, he kisses you through the tears flowing freely down your face, leaving wet trails across his hands. He kisses you and pours all the emotions he’s been bottling up and keeping from you, from the rest of the world around him, into the kiss.

From the very start of it all, he’s been guarded and kept his emotions in check. For your sake. For the sake of his career. Whatever the excuse, he’s never given you enough, it’s clear to him now as he gives over everything into this one kiss.

It’s terrifying, and he trembles as you respond, slowly but surely, to his mouth moving gently against your own. He deepens the kiss, sweeping his tongue into your mouth as your hands feebly clutch at the material of his shirt on his chest. Somehow it’s like you’ve never done this before, like he hadn’t spent hours buried deeply inside of you, like he hadn’t looked into your eyes and told you he loved you over and over again while you trembled around him. Jungkook pulls you tightly against him and tries to remind himself of nothing more than what was at stake. Despite his fears and the hurt he felt, he had to focus on what was most important.

You.

With renewed determination, uncaring if his hands were shaking, Jungkook tucked your legs around his waist and carried you, mouths still attached, fumbling along the way until he had you laid out on the bed. You kept yourself opened up for him, legs spread to make room for his body to slot on top of your own, your hands welcomed him with a warmth that he missed so deeply that he wanted to fall into your embrace and weep, but he stayed strong.

Balancing himself on his elbows, he kissed a path down your neck only to hear the sobs wrecking through your body once he was away from your mouth. He had felt your tears, flowing continually, throughout your kisses. But he didn’t stop. He couldn’t give up.

“This isn’t your fault… you’ve always been so good, baby. So, so good.” You sobbed at him, hands clinging to his hair as he pushed up your shirt, kissing now along your ribs. “I’ll always, always love you, Jungkook.”

He doesn’t respond, emotions swirling in his head but he focuses on the taste of your skin, the goosebumps that spread on your hips underneath his hands, the ragged way you draw in a gasp when he nips gently at your hip.

He doesn’t pull far away from you as he undresses the two of you, but he’s thrilled each time when you respond to him. When you reach down and help him yank off his shirt, and when you willingly lift your hips so he can slide your pants down past your thighs. When you reach for him to come back nearer, when your tongue brushes along the length of his own, pressing back into his mouth.

His mouth moves hot on your inner thigh and he’s feeling drunk on you like always. Your scent, and the glistening wetness pooling between your lower lips is ever as inviting as it always had been, and he doesn’t bother resisting for long. A glance up at your eyes only encourages him. You look down at him with need, and he doesn’t care, not even for a second, in what sort of way you need him, as long as you still do.

Jungkook would be whatever you wanted, until his dying day. He had hoped someday you would want a husband, and maybe you would see him as a good candidate for that, but if, right now, all you needed was someone to give you some sexual relief, that was ok, too. He could do that.

A heated kisses right at the cleft of your lower lips makes you gasp and your thighs jerk. He locks eyes with you again as he pulls back, thumbs parting the petals of your sex delicately before he goes back in, this time with his tongue. Jungkook’s always been good to you like this. Wherever he messed up along the way to bring the two of you here, it definitely wasn’t your sex life.

His tongue, skilled and eager, lapped at your center like he was starving for the taste of your arousal, and for the next ten minutes or so, he feels like he had been. Deprived of you like this as you pulled away from him, he’s definitely never wanted to eat you more than in that exact moment.

You keep yourself splayed open for him, jerking and gasping under his mouth, one hand on your breast and the other in his hair. Neither of you can think beyond what’s happening right now. He groans against your slick flesh when he presses one finger inside of you and he feels you clench. He sits up on his knees and pushes your legs open even farther, and pushes and back, opening you up more to his hungry mouth. He’s devouring you and pressing two fingers back inside of you this time when he feels you start to cum, and he pulls away entirely, letting your legs fall back to the mattress as you groan.

Panting, he climbs up your body and captures your lips, and groans into your mouth when you eagerly kiss the taste of your slick from his lips and tongue as he lines himself up at your entrance. Gently coating his dick in your wetness, he rubs himself across your hole, clenching around nothing at the feel of him, and over your throbbing clit just to tease you all the more. You were on the brink of an orgasm and he knew it, but he needed to feel it on his cock.

Finally pressing inside of you, he relishes in the gasp and the subsequent throaty moan that follows after he fills you. You stretch so perfectly around him and he buries his face in the nape of your neck, breathing heavy against your skin as his hips begin to rock against yours.

“Was this your plan?” You pant into his ear, your nails scorching down his back as he fucks into you at a quicker, needier pace. “You’re just going to fuck me and change my mind?”

Jungkook pulls back to look down at you, taking note of your flushed cheeks, the sweat clinging your hair to your brow, your heaving chest, and he smiles, snapping his hips harder, pummeling into you deeper. “Actually,” He says, “It kind of was.”

Gripping behind your knees, you hold your legs up long enough for him to sit up on his knees and grab them for you, and you ask him breathlessly, “Is sex all our relationship was about?”

“You know the answer to that,” He snaps, brow furrowed as he keeps rutting into you, the sound of skin on skin reverberating around the room, your bed frame squeaking in protest at this new angle. “Don’t fucking act like you don’t know what this means to me.”

“I know…” You admit with a sigh, hands smoothing over your breasts and his eyes lock onto the way you play with your nipples delicately, “That’s why I don’t have a choice, Jungkook. This has to happen. We can’t keep doing this.”

“Why not?” He grunts, “You seem to like it right now..”

“Fuck, yes. I love what you do to me..” You’re writhing under him, eyes squeezing shut and brows knitting together in concentration, “But I can’t let you do this. I can’t let us continue on like this when I know-” You stop mid sentence with a harsh gasp as his fingers find your clit, rubbing in hurried circles around the bundle of nerves.

“When you know what?” He asks, eyes locked on your expression.

Your eyes flutter open and you start to speak, to tell him the truth, the reason for all of this, but you’re interrupted by a powerful orgasm before you can even begin to let any words out. Mouth opening and shutting repeatedly, eyes locked on his dark chocolate eyes from above you, you finally let out a strangled cry of his name, a desperate sound that Jungkook is all too familiar with.

He fucks into you harder, snapping his hips into your own and folding your body practically in half so he can reach as deep as humanly possible. He puts your legs up, feet resting on his shoulders, and smiles as you come unglued under him.

But Jungkook isn’t anywhere near finished with you. He fucks you slow and deep through your orgasm, and the moment you stop gasping and writhing under him, he presses you to keep talking. He didn’t expect this conversation to happen now, like this, but he had to admit it felt easier to deal with when he was balls deep inside of you.

“What do you know?” He asks you, lowering his upper body so he’s flush against you once more, his lips finding that special spot on your neck that makes you shiver all over again with the after effects of your orgasm.

“I know you…” You pant, speaking slow to try and catch your breath, “I know you’d throw away everything for us…for me.“

He pulls back from kissing your throat to look into your eyes. He’s still rock hard and buried inside of you, your insides quivering around him as he tells you, “I would, in a heartbeat. I’d do anything for you. I’d die for you, baby.”

This brings your tears back anew immediately, as you shake your head in protest, “I can’t, Jungkook…I can’t let you do that. I can’t. I can’t.”

“What?” He asks desperately, hopelessly lost and unsure what he could do. You’re weeping openly underneath him and he’s never gone soft faster in his life. He pulls out of you, but keeps you cradled in his arms, trying to hug you to his chest. “Talk to me, baby, please. Tell me what I can do. I’ll do anything, anything at all, just tell me.”

“You can leave.” You sniffle, “You can leave and forget all about me. All about us. It’s over, Jungkook. I can’t watch you lose everything just because of me.”

He’s baffled as you pull away from him, and he’s left sitting naked at the foot of your bed, his cock wet with your cum. Part of him feels utterly defeated. Despite his best efforts, you already said the one thing that he had been hoping to avoid all this time; you ended it, moments after he made you cum, and now you’re sitting with your back to him, both of you still naked, awkwardly pointing out of your bedroom door and towards the front room, gesturing for him to leave.

He can’t even muster up the words to explain why he’s confused. It’s all coming from out of nowhere, even after all the time he spent worrying himself to death knowing that this was coming, even after showing up at your door knowing that he might be leaving without you, he’s still blind sided and on the verge of breaking down completely as he glances around the room, mostly to avoid you seeing the tears falling down his face, but also to locate his clothes.

“I just need you to leave, now.” You tell him when he stands, sniffling, to pick up his boxers and pants off of the floor.

Jungkook starts to dress slowly, desperately trying to think of what to say, what to do that could possibly make a difference now, but you won’t look at him when he does work up the courage to face you again. He doesn’t try to stop himself from crying because there’s no use. The tears are flowing endlessly and his chest aches so much he wonders if the hole in his heart will ever fill if he actually has to walk out of your apartment right now.

But he can’t walk out. There’s too much to talk about, and he’s not willing to let you cut this talk so short, not after he made you put it off. After all, talking had been your big idea, and he needed to hear the real reason why this was happening, if he was going to leave here a single man.

“I just told you I’d die for you… and you broke up with me immediately after? Please,” He faces you with the last of his bravery, not trying to hide the endless flow of tears streaming down his face as he takes your hands, or the way with each breath that he shudders and gasps through throat shredding sobs, “Please just tell me why. I deserve that at the least, don’t I? After everything we’ve been through?”

You steel yourself, squaring your shoulders, crossing your arms defensively, “Because I’m not strong enough to keep living like this.” You tell him, “I knew when we got together that it was going to be hard. I knew I’d spend a lot of my time missing you while you were away, but I’m so proud of you, Jungkook. I thought that pride would overshadow any of the negatives.” You add quickly, “None of which were brought on by you, but really just…outside things that we can’t control.”

“Like what?” He encourages you, because already there’s the smallest, glimmering bit of hope. If what you’re going to say is what he thinks, then maybe he still has a chance. Maybe he can put you at ease.

“The hiding.” You say with a sigh, “The rumors. Anytime you’re linked with some celebrity, I’m reminded that I’m a nobody, and definitely not good enough for someone like you.” Before he can comment on that, however, you continue, “You can argue that if you want but the fact still remains.”

You take a deep breath and tell him, voice full of remorse, “It’s not just that stuff. It’s that I used to be tougher. I used to be able to deal with all of this, with anything. Like you said, I thought we could take on the world and be standing together at the end of it. I didn’t think I’d get this weak. This pathetically jealous of whoever else gets your time when I can’t, whether it’s the guys or your manager or whoever… it’s just never me. And the guilt that I feel, because I’m not coping with this well enough anymore, when I know you deserve someone strong and I can’t do it.”

“Then let me-” He reaches for you, but you recoil angrily, pulling yourself out of his reach.

“I can’t let you fix this!” You shout at him, and Jungkook recoils at the outburst, “You’ll just tell me to wait for you, and even if I could, you’ll quit when you’re ready and I can’t…I can’t be the reason you don’t live out your dreams. I can’t spend the rest of my life with you knowing that I was selfish enough to let you leave it all behind. But I also can’t keep waiting for you. I can’t keep missing you and watching you live without me, I don’t want to wait until you finally give it all up just for me to feel guilt for the rest of our lives together. That isn’t fair.” You shake your head at him, “I’ve thought about it for so long, Jungkook. This is the only way. I just need to end it now and be out of each other’s lives… so we can heal.”

“But… we love each other.” Jungkook protests weakly.

You sniffle, fighting back tears again as you tell him, “You’ll find someone stronger than me, someone that will love you just as much as I do. That’s what you really deserve.”

“I don’t want someone else.” He tells you feebly, “I want you.”

You shake your head, but you don’t stop him when he approaches you cautiously, hair and face a mess, in only his boxers with his shirt half buttoned, and crookedly at that. You don’t stop him when he takes your hands in his own.

“We love each other.” Jungkook says again, much more firmly this time. “You said so yourself, you said you’d always love me.” He reminds you, “And I’ll stop loving you when my heart stops beating, I’m sure of that, more than anything else in my life.” He steps closer, until your back hits the wall by the bedroom door and he leans down so he can look into your eyes, even though you’re avoiding his. “When people love each other…they fight for that.” Jungkook tells you. “If we love each other, we’ll keep fighting, no matter what obstacles stand in our way. And we’ll win every battle, because we have each other.”

He’s breaking you again, he can feel sobs shaking in your body before he hears or sees the evidence of them and then he crashes you against him so you can weep openly onto his half buttoned shirt, muffling your sobs against his shoulder as he continues, “That’s all I want. I don’t want to find someone else to love me, I want to fight with you, right now, for our love, because nothing means more to me than this.” His voice breaks when he adds, “If you don’t want to fight for us anymore, that’s different. But I’m here…and I want to work this out.”

“There’s nothing to work out.” You sob, “I’m a weak, selfish person and I’m not strong enough to do this, Jungkook. I’m sorry I’m letting you down…I’m so, so sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry.” He bows his head onto your shoulder, crying quietly and soaking your shirt same as you were the front of his, “And you don’t have to be strong all the time. If you’re feeling weak, I’ll be strong for both of us. I’m willing to do that.”

“And then what? What can we possibly do?” You ask, pulling away and looking up at his face.

“Whatever it takes.” He furiously wipes at his eyes so he can try and see you through the blur of his tears. Hope is spreading within him again, but he doesn’t dare dwell on it in case he’s wrong, “I’m sure there’s another way out of this other than breaking up…we can figure it out together, I’m sure of that. We don’t have to throw this away. Every relationship takes work, doesn’t it? Every relationship gets hard at times to maintain. How does anybody manage to spend the rest of their lives with the person they love?”

You bite your lip, uncertainty written all over your face as Jungkook continues, his voice cracking in desperation, “I… I’m standing here begging you to give me the chance, because anything you can think of between now and the day I die, that causes you worry or hardships, I want to be the shoulder you cry on. I want to be your rock. I want to fight for you. I want us to figure this out together.”

You gulp past a lump in your throat, and your fingers clench the front of his shirt at his stomach, hesitating for a long while before you look back up into his hopeful eyes and ask in a small voice, “I didn’t ruin it already?”

Jungkook crashes you to him, kissing the side of your head and tucking one arm around your neck to hold you close to his heart thundering out of his chest, “No, baby, of course not. If you ever feel weak, please tell me. I want to fix it.”

“I just feel so hopeless sometimes.” You tell him sadly. “I’m so sorry, Jungkook.”

“Don’t be sorry. It’s scary to feel that way and I’m sorry you were dealing with it alone. I should have noticed, I should have asked the right questions, I… there’s no point dwelling on it, ok?” He pulls back and cups your face, holding you still so he can press a kiss to your forehead. “We both could’ve handled this better but it doesn’t matter because we’re here, now, and we can do better moving forward. Are you willing to do that with me?” You nod your head and he shuts his eyes and murmurs, “I need to hear it, baby.”

“Yes.” You say, “I-I’m willing to try to do better, and move forward.” You’re hesitating, not saying something more and he can feel it, so he waits and encourages you silently, running his hands up and down your arms soothingly until you tell him, lip trembling, “I am sorry, though. Don’t tell me not to be because I pushed you away. I was willing to let you walk out of here and let my heart break but I-I was only doing it out of fear. And guilt. I convinced myself that it was the right thing for you. And I’m so sorry I hurt you..”

He hugs you again, cradling you this time and swaying gently on his feet as you cry, clinging to his shirt and repeating that you were sorry. Jungkook strokes your hair and shushes you gently, lifting you like a bride in his arms and walking back until he can sit comfortably on the edge of your bed. He holds you across his lap for a while and lets you cry and apologize, and he doesn’t dare interrupt. All the agony you’d both been feeling over the last few weeks was finally starting to feel like it was over, and he knew it was important for you to let these feelings out instead of keeping them bottled up. So he just holds you and lets you get it all out.

Afterwards, when you quieted and stilled, he laid back with you sprawled out on top of him, your legs tangled together, your head resting on his chest and your arm tucked around his waist. He made countless promises to you in that moment, promises of love and devotion, promises of enduring the hard times and sharing many, many more good times.

As he speaks to you gently, you pepper kisses along his chest and scoot slowly down his body. It wasn’t lost on you that he had given you something earlier and you didn’t repay him. Feeling the need to be closer, you tug down his boxers and free his cock, half hard and waiting for you, and spent your time slowly worshiping it the way he deserved. You love him with your mouth and your heart beating fast in your chest, licking and sucking at his length while his hands tangle in your hair and he gasps your name repeatedly. When he came, you locked eyes with him, watching his expression contort before he threw his head back and finished on your tongue.

You swallow the bitter taste and he pulls you up his body, sitting you down on his lap and spearing you with his still hard length. “I’m never going to let you go, baby,” He sighs, pulling you down to meet his lips, “I love you so much.”

[heyheyitsstillgay]

Ghost Weed - Unbe-leaf-able

Phandom Phic Phight Entry #3 based on a prompt by @bouhoue - Maddie decides to plant some new flowers in the garden...

#TeamGhost team leader @ibelieveinahappilyeverafter

Previous Entry ; Also available on FFN ; Next Entry

Words: 1,933; Status: Complete

TW: Blood mention, Ectoplasmic gore

Physics, specifically about space? Danny loved it. He wasn't sure any other kid smiles over homework like he is right now but who cares? Sure, his English was due sooner, but he was enjoying himself for once. A rare moment of actual happiness, he was going to savour it.

Ah, that's that ruined, he thinks to himself as a familiar bubbling suddenly presses against the back of his eyes. He gasps as his throat cracks. Grasping shaking hands against his desk, he jumps out of his chair and darts out the door. A viscous liquid drips down his oesophagus as his feet slam against the steps of the staircase. He doubles over as he swings the front door open. Choking against the water in his mouth (Blood? Ectoplasm?), he forces his feet forward and past the threshold of FentonWorks.

Twitching fingers clench around the phone in his pocket as the halfa gasps for air. Stumbling down the street to get further away from the stinging that's encompassing his skin, shaking fingers tap against the buttons of his device.

"What blossoms?" Jazz exclaims, voice laced with concern. A quaint straw hat adorns her head, it's rim is decorated with a sweet floral ribbon. The sun is comfortingly warm on her arms and legs, a light breeze brushes her skin like a soft blanket. It was a beautiful summers day, she'd be happy to be spending it in the garden if her mind wasn't swirling with worry over her little brother.

"Blood Blossoms." Sam replies, reaching down to pick another flower head.

She brushes the petals softly with fingertips that are free of her black lace gloves. The jostle of the plant disturbs the pollen, it shifts upwards in the breeze, seeming to hum and almost glow a soft mesmerising gold.

"They're not harmful to humans at all so you don't need to worry about that. It's just called that because of its deep red colour and the pattern of black droplets near the base." The goth girl raises the black netted veil of her hat so it no longer covers her face, she takes a pinch of petals from the flower and places them into her mouth. Jazz's eyes widen at the sight but she doesn't comment as Sam chews and deposits the rest of the flower into the basket she's holding by her elbow. Swallowing, Sam continues "that and they're known for repelling ghosts. In times of disaster or plague people used to throw Blood Blossoms or their seeds onto the bodies of the dead. It was supposed to deter spirits from coming to the area and making things worse. They grow quite well in corpses," The Fenton girl grimaces while Sams tone continues as though they're simply discussing the weather rather than quite gruesome suffering and the image of death. "Obviously. Like Poppies, blood makes for a good fertiliser, y'know?" "Why are you eating it then?" The ginger interrupts, preferring not to be any more disturbed than she currently is.

"It's the best way to get rid of them." Sam responds, plucking more of the plants from their stems. "They were good in times of famine too, they're fibrous and nutritious and totally vegan. Wanna try?"

Jazz was presented the flower as though it wasn't something her brother described as 'Horrible, makes my blood simmer and expand as a super heated gas while my skin tries to peel away from my body. Like being electrocuted to death. Again.'

"I'm good." She forces a smile and gestures for the offending plant to stay away from her, Sam simply shrugs and places it in the basket with the others. "The pollen's quite pretty." Jazz quietly concedes. Sam smiles with gritted teeth.

"The pollen's the bad part." The goth laughs emptily, "It can phase through a ghost's skin, it reacts with the ectoplasm and gets in the way of their powers and, well, any function actually. It makes them seize up and saps at their energy. It's like ectoplasmic hay-fever but instead of making your nose run it'll destabilise ya." She grasps at the plant stems again, harsher, significantly less care than before.

"Thanks so much for your help guys, I never thought mom would choose to spend a summer's day gardening, but of course, if she did it'd be to bite me in the ass specifically." Danny laughs as he enters the back garden later on. It's perimeter is a state, black stems poking out of the soil. Tucker smirks, just glad that he got to hang out with Danny all day rather than deal with a flower that continues to haunt his nightmares. That says a lot considering he hunts ghosts with his friends on the daily.

"Stand back Ghost Boy." Sam smirks, hoisting two overflowing baskets of plant life into the air and edging her way around the house. "Your parents had planted enough for several months worth of salads, or, enough to eject your soul from your body." She makes finger guns as she backs out of the gate to head back to her house.

"You okay Danny?" Jazz asks, brushing her damp palms against her shorts and keeping her distance from the halfa, just in case.

"Yeah, it's barely noticeable at this point. Currently, the most threatening thing about being here is being found at the scene of a pretty horrendous ghost-plant-crime by our parents." He turned to head into their house, "When they notice, do you think we can convince them it was attacked by a local pro-ghost dog?"

Vines slunk towards him from every angle. The once comforting glow of the ghost zone around him became tinted red. Thorns pierced his ankle as a heavy stench of rot assaulted his nose. Vines pulled against him. Thick air surrounded him, weighing down his limbs. A scream tore from his throat while ectoplasm squirted from him. Breath taken away, Phantom looked down his wispy distorted form to see the curled, spiked, black vine protruding out from hi-

Danny's eyelids snap open. Chest heaving ragged gasps as he moves his hand to hover over his heart and core in an attempt to calm himself. Tongue heavy in his mouth, he shakes off the frost that has crystallised in his dark hair and sits up in his bed.

A nightmare? Not uncommon, and considering the relevant theme he doesn't suspect that one of his enemies is behind it. The ghost boy is still freaked from yesterday, part of him can still feel the itch echoing on his skin.

Wait. Oh, you're kidding. Danny rises from his bed on unsteady legs from the adrenaline dying down. He pads over to his window and raises the blinds. Yeah, not kidding. Anxiety surfaces again and he swears stress is going to kill him before any ghost hunter has the chance. Pushing the heels of his palms into his eyes, he stops when he begins to see stars. Quickly phasing his pyjamas off, Danny throws on underwear, a t-shirt and some jeans. He doesn't bother with socks. Grabbing a backpack he keeps phased into the floor under his bed, he turns invisible and creeps out of his bedroom. The stinging wasn't as bad as last time and it was stupid o'clock in the morning, so the ghost boy focuses more on stealth than speed when he slips out of his home. This time leaving the garden isn't nearly as difficult, the sprouting spectral weeds, for the most part, haven't bloomed yet. His skin itches a slight but it's not incapacitating, either way it's better for him to leave now. Checking his phone and texting his sister to let her know what's going on, Danny decides that 5am is a perfectly reasonable time for a patrol. Sleep is for the weak.

"So, what happened to eating them being the best way to get rid of them?" Jazz asked.

"Well, during our last encounter they weren't planted, they were just kinda scattered. Pass me the stuff?" Tucker reaches his hand towards the canister that the older teen is clutching closely to her abdomen. She hands it over with reluctance clearly written on her face.

"And this is the best plan B that you guys have?" Scepticism is clear in her voice as the Fenton backs away. Tucker responds with a smile like there was nothing out of the ordinary about the situation, he moves towards the flower beds and uncaps the hefty container that Jazz had managed to get a hold of that morning.

"Well, the issue must be with the roots, either that or they're able to reproduce ridiculously quickly," he shakes the liquid onto the flower bed and begins to walk around. Keeping to the edge of the garden, he leaves through the fence on one side, a minute or so passes as he re-emerges at the other side of the house, resuming his dousing of the soil. "We could always try weed killer but, Danny's supposed to be able to live here. Weed killer can take a while and even then you have to top it up sometimes. Your parents might be a bit clueless but surely they're going to get suspicious about why he's never home after one week."

"So you thought about chemicals and after careful consideration decided that this was the best bet?" She wrings her hands together as the boy caps the near empty canister and offers it back to her.

"Yeah, basically." Tucker shifts a small cardboard box out of his pocket, Jazz can't help the hands flying to her face in dismay as the boy removes a small match and attempts to light it.

He succeeds, his smile bursts with pride as he looks back towards his best friend's sister and drops the lit match onto the trail of petrol.

The warm days recently mean the soil is reasonably dry, so the flames catch surprisingly quickly. Wind not strong enough to put out the blaze, ends up carrying it across the plant life as a hazy red smoke begins to plume into the air.

"See?" The techno-geek backs away from the fire, "I told you it'd be fine."

"Yah-huh, and what's your plan for when our wooden fence catches fire?"

"When what now?" His head snaps back to where he had been stood a moment ago. Sure enough, the previously white fence is developing a black char at the base. "Uhhhh, fancy a barbecue?" He shrugs his shoulders and smiles in a way that looks terribly similar to a grimace.

"Okay, you head inside and find a bucket, I'll double check that the whole plot is definitely alight." Tucker giggles to himself as the blood red smoke rises from around the corner of the house, clearly the fire has successfully spread to the front garden too. "Ha! Lets see them grow back from that!" He crosses his arms before reaching for his phone as Jazz rolls her eyes and heads into her kitchen.

The teen clicks on Danny's contact info to tell him they've sorted the situation for real this time. It rings twice before the halfa answers him.

"Hey Tuck, how's it going?" The voice sounds from over the line. Before the teen can answer, a sudden angry screech comes from behind him.

"What! On! Earth! Has happened! To my garden!?" Tuckers eyes bulge in his head and his speech into his phone comes out like a spluttering cough.

"So the good news is the flowers aren't gonna kill you. The bad news is," He takes in a choked breath, "your mom's about to kill me now instead."

[stalking-fictional-characters]

Hello it's time for another "my therapist never has time for me and i face a lot of stress and have no friends to vent to and so all i can do is write a blog/diary post about my issues"

So I can already tell this weekend is going to be what i call a birthday dilemma. Birthday dilemma is when there is some kinda of positive event happening that is supposed to make u happy but at some point for some reason you get really sad/distressed (14 birthday's in a row I have cried, surprisingly last one broke the streak but anyway)

This Saturday I'm graduating college. Big happy event right? Well I estimate a 70% chance at some point I'll get depressed or cry or at least a 90% chance of being emotional disturbed. Now I'll tell you why.

So I haven't had water in my house for almost a month now. Friday finally someone is coming to take a look yay. However the uncertainty of having water to be able to take a shower and get ready in peace on Saturday is weighing on me. More so though Friday likely will involve knocking down a wall to get to the pipe. To even get to the wall we are going to have to move a bunch of crap my mom has in the basement. Anything involving her fucking hoard at this point makes me distressed so I'm betting Friday is going to be stressful and put me in a bad mood.

Saturday I am graduating and then a few hours afterwards my family is having a party. Now its likely to rain on Saturday, bummer but not to bad but it will likely be another straw. No the main thing is my biological father and grandfather are coming and they are both assholes. I want my grandmother on my dad side to come and sadly that means I had to let my grandfather come even though I hate him. Now this is not great but manageable main thing is my father.

Initially he wasn't invited cuz he abused my mom and every event they have both been at ends up with my mom very distressed. He only was invited cuz my mom suggested it saying she would be to busy with other guests and maybe if he does come she can get him to meet with their lawyers and discuss money he owes us.

Now one of the issues with this plan (other than the obvious) is that my party is going to be small because 1. I don't have friends, 2. the extended family is hella salty and avoid us, and 3. A third of the Guests are sick and hence can't come. So there isn't a lot of people for mom to distract herself with.

Hell when my mom was sending out text invitations she got a wrong number and decided since they want to come to just let them so theres a mystery stranger who could show up and who knows what will come about that.

So already things aren't looking great (me sad cuz it I don't care about my loneliness until it is shoved in my face at events like these) (possible conflict due to mom and father interacting) (rando person wild card) (me stressed prior to Saturday due to water issue)

But oh wait there's more

My mom and her fiance are a generally toxic relationship and apparently this week they are "broken up" again which makes things super stressful cuz the party is at the fiance's house and also my mom has been living basically at his house and doesn't seem to want to come back to her house. Now the fiance isn't a douche so the party is still on and fine and my brother is still ok to live at his place. But he wants to kick my mom out and she will likely want to stay to prep the place for the party (cuz it's a wreck right now due to hoarding/moving stuff around to put in new flooring) and so there is going to be stress on everyone due to that situation.

Also there is going to be stress cuz her fiance told me his plan to get her to leave his house is to act like her ex (cuz she says he is like him so he is going to prove her right or something?) God he is stupid idk but uh yeah act like someones abuser is such a terrible fucking idea god damn he should just have a fucking conversation with her. But so yeah my mom is apparently gonna have to face dealing with someone acting like her ex and then dealing with her actual ex and basically I'm pretty sure she is going to have another suicidal episode at the end of this weekend and obviously that's very bad and traumatic.

And idk what to do about anything. Especially cuz I overheard why the latest break up occurred and honestly the fiance is totally in the wrong but it's a sensitive topic so I can't weight in.

Ugh I'm already feeling depressed just thinking about everything.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #379

“sometimes i fear the worst in me, is the best you’ll ever know”

Have you ever been in weather below 0 Fahrenheit (-17 Celsius)? No. Have you ever been caught outdoors away from shelter during a thunderstorm? Yeah. Most notably, the only concert I've ever been to was outside during a thunderstorm, haha. Made it more badass. What’s your favorite macaron flavor? Never had one. How often do you have friends over to your house? Never. Have you ever had a boss who acted unprofessionally? No. Not that I really ever had a job long enough to notice. How many times have you stayed at a hotel in the past year, and where? We never stayed overnight anywhere, we just visited one once to see my dying grandmother for the last time. Have you ever done a flip on a trampoline? I used to do front flips, but I was too scared to do a back flip in case I landed on my neck and broke it. What about a flip off of a diving board? No. Are you embarrassed by your school yearbook photos? They all sucked. Who taught you to tie your shoelaces? Dad did the "wrong" way, which I understood first, so Mom was insistent on teaching me the "proper" way, I think because she thought the knot was tighter and therefore safer. Currently how many pictures are on your cellphone? Not a lot, but I don't feel like counting. Do you think dimples are cute? Yep. Would you rather chew fruity or minty gum? It really depends on what I'm feeling. The last time you went to the mall, who did you go with? My mom and older sister. What’s something you used to collect when you were younger? Stickers. Have you watched a movie today? No. Aside from your own, whose house did you last set foot into? My sister's. Do you love soft pretzels? Oh hell yes. Cinnamon and sugar are THE best. Who was the last person who cried around you? Why did they start crying? Was it unexpected? My mom, because the dog is stressing her the fuck out. I saw it coming eventually. Are you more likely to like someone before you really know them, or do you feel you like them more after you know a lot about them? When it comes to really liking someone, I like to know them well. That way, I'm more confident in knowing me liking them is justified. Do you buy people cards on special occasions, or do you prefer to make your own? I admittedly don't do either currently, but I'd buy cards if I had an income. When was the last time you were being hypocritical? I don't know, but I know I can be without realizing just like everyone else. Where on your body was the last cramp you had? Why did you have this cramp? I almost exclusively cramp up in my lower left abdomen when I have my period. What is the weirdest name you’ve ever heard? One of my classmates in college was named Apple. Do you get embarrassed when people hear you sing/compliment you on your singing ability? If so, why is that? I get more shy than anything. I don't know why, I just do. Are you good at comforting people when they’re upset? I hope so. I sure try to be. Do you have any exercises you do everyday? No. .-. Do you own one of those singing fish? Do you think they are silly or funny? I don't, but I think they're pretty funny, mostly though because I just remember that video of one glitching horribly where it would get stuck and "sing" all slow and demonic, then it would snap back to normal. I love that video too much lmao. Has anyone ever accused you of being bipolar or any other mental disorder? Do you really have any mental disorders? "Accused" is the wrong word, I've just been professionally diagnosed. I have a lot of disorders. Did you buy the last thing you bought with your own money? If not, whose money did you buy it with? I paid for my tattoo. Do you like to put your feet up on the dashboards of cars? Do you parents yell at you if you do that in cars? I never do, never have, and never would. That shit would FUCK you up in a wreck. Don't take car safety lightly. Which Beatle is your favorite, or do you love them all equally? I don’t have a favorite, given I know none of them personally at all. Do you enjoy classic rock? If so, who are some of your favorite classic rock artists? Well duh. I love a hell of a lot, don't make me dig through my head to ensure I leave no one out, lol. Did you ever own a Tamagotchi? Yes. Are you more of a dog or cat person? Cat person. I see that more and more and more as time goes on. Dogs tend to just have too much energy for me. Not all, of course, but still. Have you ever failed math? I did in college. Skittles! What's your favorite color? Red. Have you ever had a dream of stabbing someone? I don't think so. But who the fuck knows with how fucked up my nightmares are. What would you want your last words to be if you could choose them? Just that I love my family. Can you sleep with the light on? It's possible for me to, but it's difficult. What’s the most bizarre horror movie you’ve ever seen? Hm, I dunno. What band can’t you stand listening to? I absolutely hate The Talking Heads. Would you ever take a lie detector test for your significant other? No, for two reasons: I don't believe they're accurate, and two, I'd be having an anxiety attack over whether or not my nerves would "show" something. What is your favorite Mystery/Crime/FBI related show? Uhhhh does Sherlock count? Jason and I used to watch that and I loved it. Would you ever have a bird as a pet? I think parrots specifically are super fascinating, but I wouldn't. I don't want any potentially noisy pets. How's your relationship between you and your grandparents? They're all dead. The only grandparent I really knew well was my maternal grandmother, and we had... a lot of differences. I don't think she liked me much, and she was WAY too old-fashioned, uptight, and mean to my mom for me to get along well with her. Ever had a forbidden love or lover? No. Have you ever had to speak at a funeral? No. Do you know someone who’s been cremated? Maybe? What is your current problem? I had a fucking dream that was stupid detailed that Jason and I got married and so today has been shit. I love motherfucking PTSD. Do you like canopy beds? Yeah, I wish I had one. What is your favorite animated movie? The Lion King. Would you rather live in a small town or a big city? Neither, really... I want to live in the woods/some area relatively isolated, but with just a few neighbors spotted around so I'm not TOTALLY alone. But to entertain the question, I guess I'd pick a small town. If you could summon any animal to come to your rescue, what animal would it be and why? A lion for its strength and speed. Have you ever watched The Golden Girls? I LOVE that show. That shit's got no right to be as funny as it is lmao. Did you ever like the Ninja Turtles? Nah, I never watched it. Last alcoholic drink you had? A REALLY strong margarita that I could barely drink because of the alcohol concentration. What are you known for? Probably liking meerkats way too much. Has anyone ever threatened you? Yes. Have you ever gone frog hunting? No, not exactly. However, whenever my dad and I went catfishing, I would always do a scan of the area for toads. You'd always find 'em. Do you ever suffer from dry skin? My skin, particularly my scalp, is STUPID dry. Gross to picture, but imagine having both a clinically dry scalp as well as dandruff. That's me. Do you still sleep with a stuffed animal? No, Roman would never allow me to cuddle something other than him, haha. What’s the weather like right this moment? It's cloudy out and 59*F. Do you bite on straws, lollipop handles, or ice cream sticks? No, that's always grossed me out. In what type of area was your first sexual encounter? Honestly, I don't remember, though I'm sure you'd assume I would, lol. Probably his bed because we were at his place more than mine, but idr. Where is your mother’s side of the family descended from? My maternal grandmother had German ancestry, while I think her husband's was mostly Irish. What do you occupy your time with on flights? I just listen to my iPod and look out the window. Do you dog-ear pages in books? Yes. What’s a made up word of yours? I don't have any. It's weird, I don't know why, but it's a pet peeve of mine when people just make up words like they actually mean something. Even though isn't that exactly how language came about? I dunno, it's weird. Do you use Q-Tips? Only on the exterior of my ears unless something is really bothering me interiorly. Frequent use of Q-Tips is how I got ear wax literally adhered to my eardrum that required medical attention. It just pushed the stuff further and further back. Ever gone out with somebody you didn’t like? Well, I can't honestly say I was very romantically interested in Tyler, but we still dated for like a week or two. I DID sort of like him in high school my freshman year, but this was SO many years later that it's not fair to say I "knew" him anymore. I kinda just agreed to go out because I felt bad saying no and also just figured that we'd re-familiarize with each other through dates, anyway. What hero or heroine do you most relate to in history, fiction, or song? I have no idea. What makes you dizzy? Just about everything, it seems. I have insanely low blood pressure due to some prescriptions that I HAVE to move slowly, especially when standing up, if I don't want to fall on my face. Are your parents liberal or conservative? I think my dad is more conservative, but Mom is maybe more liberal? I actually don't know. Do you like your teeth? Did you have braces? No, because I went through a span of taking horrible care of them during my worst depression that they now have a conspicuously yellow tint. I had braces before. Are you happy with your height? Sure?

[theeurekaproject]

Mutata Fatum

The Revelation was beautiful from its perfectly-polished floors to its inexplicably high cathedral ceilings, which was precisely what Athena didn’t like about it.

First of all, it was made with taxpayer money, like everything else Acidalia owned. So, in a way, the Revelation should be Athena’s and everyone else’s—its cost had come out of their paychecks, after all, and from what Athena could see, it was probably not cheap. It had top-notch shielding and cloaking systems, and way too many onboard weapons for a luxury spacecruiser, but even that wasn’t really the problem. The problem came with the frills around the edges—the completely unnecessary, inane decorations that turned every piece of the ship into a shiny, sharp work of art.

It was maddening, really, the thousands of credits that had gone into designing this thing. It had floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out into a starry nothingness, bisected occasionally by the laser-light glow of another distant starship. It had glitteringly clean floors polished by a staff of needlessly adorable white robots that skittered around the place like dinner plate-sized mice. It had art, mood lighting, chandeliers, centerpieces at every table, gourmet food, feather-stuffed pillows, stocks of makeup and inordinately fancy dresses, and a collection of shoes that probably could have made Athena a multi-millionaire if she had the courage to steal and pawn them. Honestly, she could probably make a killing easily by selling all of the Imperatrix’s junk on the black market—Acidalia was rich enough not to notice. “How much do you think this costs?” she asked Carina absentmindedly, balancing a silver-colored decorative hair comb between her fingers. It had about two dozen little pearls, but she had no idea if they were genuine or not. But would someone as important as Acidalia even own fake pearls?

“Stop it,” Carina said. “She lost her brother less than an hour ago. Now is not the appropriate time to steal her things.” “She’s a multiquadrillionaire, it’s always an appropriate time to steal her stuff. Eat the rich, right?”

“That’s mean.”

“You don’t understand my desire to be edgily controversial at absolutely all times,” Athena replied, pocketing the comb anyway. Even if Acidalia eventually emerged from the massive, overly elaborate museum-with-a-bed she called a bedroom to come collect her belongings, she wouldn’t care that Athena had taken one small thing. Not if she was at all unlike her mother, at least. From the corner of the room, Carina shot Athena a death glare.

“This is my ship, sorta,” Athena said defensively. “It all comes from taypayer credits, you know that?” “That isn’t how taxpayer supported things work,” Carina retorted.

“Why not?” “I don’t know. I just know that stealing is impolite.” “The Imperial family stole my money.” “Taxes aren’t stealing.” “They are when they benefit rich individuals instead of society as a whole.” Carina groaned. “Where did you even learn about politics? I asked you who the Proregina of the Lunar Colonies was last week and you couldn’t even give me an answer, but now all of the sudden you know about taxes?” “I’ve always known about taxes. Or, more specifically, how to commit tax fraud.” “That is astoundingly illegal and stupid.” Athena gasped in mock offense. “Don’t speak to me like that in front of my 27 dependents!”

Carina didn’t even bother to dignify that with a response. She turned away, rolling her eyes, while Athena giggled just out of her view. She didn’t feel that bad about stealing from Acidalia—the staggering income inequality on Eleutheria was enough to displace any feelings of guilt she may have ever held. Dead brother or living brother, money was money, and Athena going on an impromptu vacation to wherever this resort-with-an-engine starship was heading would almost definitely cost her a job. She didn’t particularly feel like being strapped for cash again—especially not while surrounded by some of the most excessive luxury she’d ever seen in her life.

Actually, no, scratch that. The most excessive luxury anyone could ever see in their lives, period. Acidalia was rich beyond anyone’s wildest imaginations. The amount of money she had was too large for human minds to even comprehend. Quadrillions of credits. Quadrillions. She had more credits to her name than there were stars in the Milky Way and Andromeda Galaxy combined. This was fuck-you money of the highest order, and most of it came from citizens like Athena—citizens who stressed about rent and affording necessities and paying off bribes and medical debt. Why should Acidalia get to have fancy pearl-encrusted hair combs while ordinary Eleutherians grasped at straws to afford basic cybernetic implants? That was bullshit, Athena thought. So it really didn’t matter if she stole stuff from Imperial cruisers or committed tax fraud every single Aperire; her crimes were all victimless.

*** Two hours later, Athena was dressed in an incredibly fancy dressing gown that looked like exactly the type of thing the Imperatrix would wear to bed. It itched—a lot—and she never would have thought to put it on if there wasn’t such an abundance of hidden pockets beneath the fluff and diamonds. (Who sleeps in diamonds?! she thought.) Her plan was to pretend she was cold, and hopefully Acidalia would let her borrow the stupid bathrobe and never question the fact that all of the beauty products and jewels were missing from her vanity. Honestly, judging by the thin layer of dust that sat over everything not clearly accessible to the cleaning robots, Athena assumed Acidalia hadn’t used this ship in a while, and would thus be unfamiliar with where things were stored. And, even if by some misfortune she took notice of all the mysteriously vanished valuables, Athena could just blame it on ‘staff.’ The Imperatrix had to have staff, right? “Do you think this place has maids?” Athena asked absentmindledly. “Or butlers?” Briefly, she pictured rows upon rows of frozen maids packed into storage like Han Solo in carbonite, just waiting to be woken up. The royal family seemed like the type of institution that only gave people human rights when it was convenient for them.

Carina looked up from the magazine she was reading—some sort of science-y looking journal on biology. “No,” she said. “Acidalia doesn’t like them.” “She doesn’t like… servants?” “She likes robot servants because they’re more private. I kind of understand—having actual humans hovering everywhere and watching you constantly could get kind of annoying after a while, I guess. But Aleskynn used to make fun of her for it all the time—normally they don’t really view the help as ‘people,’ so to speak, so she doesn’t understand why anyone would be disconcerted by the constant presence of Ministratoras.”

“That’s kinda messed up,” Athena said.

“A lot of things in Aleskynn’s life were kind of messed up.” Carina thumbed through another page, looking bored. The magazine was marked 4045, so all of the articles were probably outdated already. Part of Athena wondered why someone as wealthy as Acidalia Cipher would still use print media, but the other part of her already knew the answer: aesthetic and pretentiousness.

Another few minutes ticked by, punctuated only by the sound of Carina lazily turning pages. The rest of the ship was suspiciously, worryingly silent, and if Athena didn’t know better, she would have assumed that she and Carina were the only two people aboard. Maybe it was because the Revelation had some kind of fancy noise-cancelling technology, or maybe Acidalia’s injuries were worse than they seemed and she was either incapable of moving, or worse. Athena didn’t know how she felt about that possibility.

She opened another drawer of a dresser that stood in the hallway. There was a crown in it, an elaborate headpiece too large to fit in a dressing gown pocket. Athena picked it up and appraised it in the light, wondering if she could pry any gemstones or shiny platinum pieces off and hold onto those instead. Then, with disappointment, she noticed that the jewels were brown instead of blisteringly white. They held diamond fire, but they were so discolored it was hard to believe they had any sort of value beyond industrial applications. Athena wondered why Acidalia would have a tiara like that, then she noticed the handwritten note attached to the brim with a curled-up white ribbon—I thought this would match your eyes. <3 Aleskynn. The metaphor was clear.

Bitch, Athena thought, and slammed the drawer shut. She had half a mind to send the spoiled princess a vial of cyanotoxins with the caption “I thought this would match your eyes.” It wasn’t even the fact that she’d insulted Acidalia that bothered Athena—it was the gossipy, too-cowardly-to-say-it-to-her-face passive-aggressiveness. Though, to be fair, she didn’t know why she expected anything more from Alestra’s daughter.

There was nothing much left in any of the other drawers—there were books, but none that looked valuable or even interesting to read. They were mostly indecipherable ancient texts and classics that nobody but Acidalia would even want, and though they had gilded edges and artfully decorated covers, Athena didn’t dare risk stealing them—they were all embossed with A.P.C. on the first blank page, and that made them traceable. Kalyn had taught her years ago that you couldn’t take anything if the police could trace it back to someone, and these books certainly weren’t worth that risk. Then there were piles upon piles of notebooks, all made of leather and filled to the brim with what looked like the ramblings of a madwoman—the same sentences and song lyrics, repeated over and over again—until Athena noticed that the penmanship improved between the first and last pages and realized they’d probably been used to practice Acidalia’s immaculate, looping calligraphy. Under those were datadrives, which Athena very clearly didn’t have the genome to open—they all had tiny iris scanners at the end, so only the Imperatrix would be able to view them. And, just when Athena was beginning to think this entire thing was worthless, her hand brushed against food packaging—which turned out to be concealing a small collection of healthy snacks that no person in their right mind would willingly consume.

“Look at this,” she said to Carina, holding up a shrink-wrapped package of very crumbly, grainy-looking pastries. “They took cookies, and made them healthy. Who does that?”

“People who want to cater to rich women who constantly think they need to lose weight.”

“Lose weight? Acidalia has the tiniest waist I’ve ever seen.”

“It’s the corsetry,” Carina said.

“Still, Jesus. Out of every person I’ve ever met in my life, Acidalia is the one who should be concerned about her body image the least. All of the uppercrusts are genetically-modified mutants with abnormal metabolisms; why would they of all people be concerned about dieting?”

“Aleskynn was eighty kilogrammos when I met her,” Carina shrugged. “Being raised by Alestra gives people weird views of themselves. Besides, how do you know they even taste bad?”

Athena tore open the package and took a tiny bite from one cookie. She wrinkled her nose. It tasted exactly like—no, worse than—straw. “Just take my word for it,” she said.

As she looked around for a garbage can, the sound of tiny, delicate footsteps echoed down the corridor, and she realized with irritation that they must belong to Acidalia. Carina instantly stiffened, standing up like a statue and brushing her hair behind her back so it looked neater than it was. As if Acidalia—Acidalia the high queen, Acidalia the almighty—would pause for a second to notice how tidy and organized Carina Stellara, random scientist with no clout, looked. She was so far above such things that even trying to make an effort felt worthless.

Still, for reasons she didn’t entirely know how to explain, Athena stood up at attention anyway. She stared at the door with strange fascination, wondering why her heart was pounding so quickly, waiting for something, anything to happen. And then, with an extremely anticlimactic swoosh, the door moved sideways, and the Imperatrix Ceasarina entered in all her glory.

If Athena was told that this was the same woman who’d barreled past her into this ship a few hours ago, bearing news of a dead brother and a murder attempt, she wouldn’t have believed it. This Acidalia looked astoundingly different from post-assassination-attempt Acidalia, yet so inexplicably like her at the same time, and it put a bad taste in Athena’s mouth. She bore such a strong resemblance to her late brother that their relationship should have been obvious in hindsight, but her face was utterly, completely neutral—almost relaxed—and she did not seem at all like someone who had just lost the closest family member they’d ever known. Judging by T’s impassioned reaction to his sister’s imminent demise, Athena had assumed they were very close; apparently, that assumption was wrong, because Acidalia clearly hadn’t shed a single tear. She looked every bit the put-together dictator the media liked to portray her mother as—the only thing missing was the scary blue eyes.

“We’re about two away from the Mare Acidalium Quadrangle,” Acidalia said softly, yet briskly. “The cloaking seems to have held up for this long, but I know that there are probably dozens of ships lagging just a few hours behind us. I will let you decide what you want to do when we land, but I want you to know that I cannot stay, and you will be targets if anyone ever finds out that you spoke to me.” Her posh, lilted accent and calm tone didn’t match her words at all,  which was almost more frightening than if they had.

“What do you mean, targets?” Athena asked. “Nobody saw us, we made sure of that.” She actually hadn’t made sure of that, but she’d taken the liberty to assume that nobody would question two young women dressed in gray wandering around a hangar at night. They were both wearing standard grays, common enough for them to be mistaken for practically any caste, and neither had any key distinctive features for anyone to remember them by—she hadn’t worried about their identities being revealed at all.

“Alestra sees everything,” Acidalia said, “and there is a very real possibility that you will be hunted down and imprisoned, killed, or imprisoned, then killed.” “What, no torture first?” Athena joked. Carina shot her a death glare, and she muttered a sheepish “sorry.” “If that’s a genuine question, then yes, they absolutely will torture you first,” Acidalia replied, utterly nonplussed. “I know you both came here to warn me, and that is an honorable thing to do, but it is incredibly risky, and now that you are here, you have my mother’s attention—or, at the very least, you will very soon. My plan is to rendezvous with David Seren—you wouldn’t know of him; he’s a reasonably high-ranking authority on Mars—and return to Eleutheria, hopefully with the Martians backing me and David and his family on their way to safety. I don’t know where you would like to proceed from there, but you need to understand that after what you’ve done today, there can be no return to normalcy for either of you.” “Yeah,” Athena said, ignoring Carina’s petrified look, “I kind of assumed that when I snuck out in the middle of the night to tell my best friend’s mom about my other best friend’s friend’s mother trying to commit—is it filicide or regicide? Sorry, I’m not too up to date on my murder terms.” “Stop trying to be funny, this is serious,” Carina hissed. Acidalia gave a humorless smile.

“So what you’re saying is we’re totally screwed,” Athena continued.

“No, not at all,” Acidalia replied, equally as casually. “Many people have committed acts of treason and lived.” “That’s not how the media makes it look,” Carina said shakily,

Acidalia sighed. “Always question the media. I don’t want you to think you don’t have options. You do—many of them. I just want you to know the gravity of your situation, and how impossible a return to what you might call ‘normal’ society will now be for you. I can give you a list of paths to choose right now if you’d like, but being regular caste Scientias again is not on it.”

“What if we don’t want to be regular Scientias anymore?” Athena asked.

A spark flared suddenly in Acidalia’s brown eyes. “Then you’re in a better situation than I predicted.”

Athena could already see where this conversation was headed. “This is going to end with an elevator speech recruitment pitch type thing, isn’t it?” “Do you want it to?”

Athena hesitated. Was this it? she asked herself. Was she really joining an anti-Alestra revolution? Two days ago, she’d been laughing at the excessive glamour of the Ciphers, who were nothing but glittering silhouettes in a far-away place on a television screen, and now she was standing right in front of one and speaking to her like this was all normal. A week ago, she was laughing in the break room about how much it must suck to be forced into the ridiculous life of ceremony and politics the ruling class set up for themselves, and now she was genuinely considering entangling herself in the complicated games they were playing. This was, in every sense of the word, completely insane.

But Eleutheria being torn in half was insane. Ciphers killing Ciphers was insane. Acidalia’s very existence as an Imperial dauphine and a traitorous bastard and a rebel leader was insane. Everything else in the world had lost its mind and any sense of sanity it might have, at one point, held, so maybe Athena could afford to go a little nuts, too.

“Yes,” she said, and with that, she could almost feel Morta raise her scissors. But, strangely, she didn’t much care.

[theliterateape]

I Wouldn't Give a Shit if Mark Died

By J. L. Thurston

Hi. I’m Bob. Mark was my big brother, and I distinctly remember realizing one day that I wouldn’t give a shit if Mark died.

That may come across as harsh or whatever. But he’s my only brother in the whole world and I found that his death wouldn’t be all that sad. I realized this the day I was told he was about to croak. I had gone to visit him. He was in a pretty bad way.

In order of birth, it goes Mark, then Leslie, then me. Bob. The youngest. Between me and Mark are seven years. As the youngest, I always got a lot of attention, but Mark acted like the whole world revolved around me and left him in the dust. That is so not true. He always got the most attention. Mark was born with problems. When he was a baby, he constantly stopped breathing. At age three, he had some kind of cancerous tumor they had to remove. And worst of all, he had cerebral palsy.

If you don’t know what that is, you’re lucky. It’s a condition of the brain that kids get born with. There’s varying degrees of it. Some kids have to be stuck in wheelchairs, some can’t even talk or do much at all for themselves. Some are just about as normal as you or me.

Mark was kind of in the middle of good and bad. He was always small, always sickly, and slow in the head. Not like to where you have to baby talk him, but slow enough that he couldn’t figure out concepts like taxes or Algebra. He couldn’t ever spell for shit, either.

He had big dreams. He’d tell me he was going to be an NBA player, and no one could tell him otherwise. No one ever helped him in the right way, either. They put him on the basketball team in school — regular school — and let him play when the team was ahead. Other schools kinda knew him, or at least they knew enough to be kind. They let him double-dribble, they let him take his sweet time to shoot. He had decent upper body strength and could make a basket from time to time. He had this deep, throaty giggle that always kind of rumbled out of him in times of high stress. So, there’d be Mark, stumbling and dribbling and shooting, all the while giggling loud enough to echo in the crowded gym.

Everyone cheered like adoring fans when he was on the court. Like it was some great thing he was doing. It filled his head with false ideas. He saw himself as big and bad when he was really four-foot-ten and floated between ninety and one hundred pounds. I never thought that was good for him. It made him an even bossier big brother.

My parents never gave him slack, either. They never talked down to him, never felt sorry for him. Whenever he’d stumble and fall, they’d try to make light of it, they’d make him pick himself up every time. He’d cry, he’d whine, he’d stay down, hoping for a sympathetic helping hand, but my parents thought that if they helped him then he’d be too reliant on other people’s strengths. They wanted him to be a successful adult. They wanted him to be able to live on his own, if he wanted. They wanted him to know how to care for himself, to pay bills, to hold a job, to be able to get himself out of sticky situations.

Mark hated that. He loved the attention, the sympathy, the poor Marks.

The type of people who gave him the most love, the most sympathy, and the most fun were the kind of people you didn’t invite inside your home. The town druggies made Mark feel cool and he fell in line with them. His mind was very moldable, he was very easy to manipulate. Mark gave the kids his lunch money for weed and then threw the weed away because he didn’t know how to smoke it.

I remember when he got caught with other kids’ cigarettes in his bookbag three days in a row, giggling the whole time Mom yelled because that’s what he always did under pressure.

I went away on a camping trip with some other guys and when I came back, Mark was gone. He’d done the unthinkable. Him and his pothead friends called the cops on my parents. He claimed they had been beating him his whole life. That they’d take him to the laundry room and abuse him.

Being as pathetic-looking as he was, we were terrified what authorities would do. My sister and I were fairly young. Would DCFS take us away? Would my parents be able to show their faces anywhere ever again?

Luckily, nothing ever came of it. I think my parents were respected enough that when they claimed their innocence the authorities believed them. Also, there was not a scrap of evidence to support Mark’s claims.

Let me tell you, the hissing behind our backs went on for years. My parents never forgave Mark, and Mark never came home. He was reduced to couch-surfing at all his druggie friends’ houses until he finished school. Then he moved in with a dealer and stayed with him for over a decade. The drama never ceased and the rare times I talked to Mark just involved me hearing his stories of getting away with drug busts, domestic disputes between his roommate and the various women. Just trashy shit.

Ultimately his roommate went to prison for selling heroin to an undercover cop. Mark called me a lot after that, yes he did. Bob, I need a ride, or Bob, I need a place to crash. And my favorite, Bob, I need some money.

I remember calling Mark when my wife was pregnant with our first child. I was so proud, my head was swimming, I wanted to tell everyone at once. I told my parents first, then I decided my siblings should be the next to know. This would be the first child to make them an aunt and uncle. On the phone, Mark heard me tell him I was going to be a daddy. He responded with a long list of complaints about the thieves in his apartment building and how he can’t hardly make it down the stairs. Also, he was very concerned that the government wouldn’t pay for him to get a scooter. I hung up on him that day.

So, I stopped answering the phone when Mark called. I deleted the voicemails, I never responded to Facebook messages. I was over him and his dramatic bullshit. Mark was a bad egg. Selfish, stupid, and mixed in with a bad crowd that I didn’t want anywhere near my family.

My cousin knew he was in the ICU and didn’t tell anyone. It was four days after he was admitted that word slipped. Mark went to a hospital complaining of bronchitis. He had many health problems, all of them chronic, and he was on every pain pill known to man. The local hospital saw him as a drug seeker and sent him home with albuterol and instructions to stay in bed. The big city hospital took one look at his X-Rays and intubated him immediately. They said if he would have waited another day he would have died in his sleep.

On top of the double pneumonia, little Mark had some kind of blood infection coursing through his body that caused his bones and muscles to ache. In the four days that he was intubated in the ICU he’d completely lost the ability to walk. When my mother and I visited him in the comprehensive care unit, Mark was bedridden with three tubes in one arm and four in the other. He had a Christmas tree of bags hanging off an IV pump next to him. Any little movement would jack up his heart rate to about one-forty, causing the nurses to panic. He broke down into tears many times.

He didn’t giggle once.

It didn’t look good for Mark, and I left the hospital wondering where my head was at. My big brother, the only one I had, was doing poorly. Maybe this would be the thing that would kill him. When he was a baby, the doctor said he probably wouldn’t make it to his thirties because of all his problems. He was nearly forty.

I thought about what I’d say at his funeral. I know that sounds morbid and kind of sick considering I should have been praying for his recovery, but it’s the truth. My speech would be fairly void of good things to say about him. What good was Mark? He only cared about himself. He never learned from his mistakes. He caused my parents and my sister and me pain and never once apologized for it. He would rather live in moldy shacks with meth-heads than be an independent man.

Did I feel sorry for Mark? Yes, I sure did. He was suffering, and he spent much of his life suffering. He’d been given the short straw. I was lucky that I was the good son, the one who was born normal, the one who never spent a day in a hospital. I had a great job, a wonderful family, I was happy and healthy. All the while my brother was being fed through a straw.

But I felt about him the same way I’d feel about hearing this story about a stranger. I think, Sucks for that guy. Too bad it couldn’t have been better, and then I move on.

He died of a medication error. That’s what the bottom line was. He’d been on so many things. His little body, eighty pounds at that time, couldn’t take it all. He slowly suffocated to death. We found out two days later when my pothead cousin decided to tell my mother.

This is what I said at his funeral. “Hi. I’m Bob. Mark was my big brother. He was seven years older than me. When we were kids, we’d fight all the time. I know it might be hard to imagine Mark being able to fight anyone, seeing how little he was, but he was actually a lot stronger than me in those days. But when we weren’t fighting, we’d go to the pool a lot. Mark was the one who taught me how to do a backstroke. When I was in the fifth grade, I won first place in swim team for it. That was something wonderful Mark did for me.

“Mark showed me how to turn our bunkbeds into a fort. Then we’d listen to music on his bottom bunk. He introduced me to Aerosmith and it is still my favorite band to this day. That was another wonderful thing Mark did for me.

“When Mark was sick in the hospital, he told me that the ghost of his best friend was visiting him. He claimed that every night he saw Carl, and that Carl would tell him to come with him. That he’d take care of him. When Mark told me that, I told him that it was sad Carl died of an overdose, but he was a good guy and a good friend. So, I guess Mark decided to leave with Carl. And, I think that’s kind of wonderful in its own way, too.”

Then I said goodbye to Mark, and we parted ways forever. I once thought that I wouldn’t give a shit if he died but I was wrong. Our relationship was ugly and we never made it right, but it is what it is. He’s still the only big brother I’ll ever have.