#the middle act is heartbreaking yet show the beauty of life

[ramblingguy54]

That’s what makes Brightbill’s story so heartbreaking, yet uplifting, at the same time. All of the odds were immediately and unfairly stacked against him.

It’s severely fucked up that within this moment he’s nearly drowned by these bully geese, almost gets eaten by Rockmouth, and finds out afterwards Roz had accidentally crushed his family.

Which embodies what nature is all about being a harsh reality of every animal for themselves in survival.

Wild Robot reminds me so much of a Don Bluth film because God damn this kid gets put through emotional Hell in its middle act.

The circle of life isn’t pretty, but there is an underlying ironic beauty to it as well through Roz giving Brightbill a second chance to live his life to the fullest.

These tragedies throughout makes Roz & Brightbill’s moments of emotional clarity hit harder in retrospect.

You know, I was annoyed for a while at the inclusion of the "bully geese". Like yes, bullies are a crucial part of any story about the "underdog" but if you're like me (esp. if you grew up in the 80s and 90s), you've gotten tired of them REAL quick.

But then I realized: this is yet another factor of one of the film's messages and that's "Y'all, nature is cruel."

This is VERY much something that happens in the real-life wild to runts. Not only are they easy prey, like the film straight-up told us, but they're an easy target among their own kind. In the fight for food, mates, territory, EVERYTHING - runts are smaller and weaker and the easiest individuals to subtract from the fight. (I would normally give a video here as a real-life example but I don't wanna Youtube that. ; A ; You understand.)

It even happens within sibling groups for the same reason. Sadly, if Brightbill's siblings had survived, there's a very real chance that they wouldn't have treated him much better. His "chance to be normal" probably would not have played out like he expected. 😭

[arminsumi]

THE SPRING I MET YOU

GOJO さとる

He hates spring because of "allergies"; he blames his sniffly nose and red eyes on the season.

Warnings : angst (heartbreak)

Playme : First Love/Late Spring

SPRING 2006

You had met Gojo Satoru through a common friend — Geto Suguru.

Oh how many times had you heard him say, like a broken record;

"You really have to meet this guy, you're gonna click with him I just know it. You're like the same person."

You're like the same person.

Suguru'd nag you to meet Satoru ever since he entered Jujutsu High, because he thought he was... you know, just the kinda guy you'd fall in love with. And he hated to see you moping around, lonely and hopelessly seeking a lover that was certainly not "coming to you on a summer breeze" like your mother insisted.

So you met Satoru, by Suguru's demand.

And your first impression of him was: oh no; he's an idiot.

A loud-mouthed, obnoxious idiot. Inappropriate. Overconfident. Irresponsible.

And his first impression of you was: eh, she's too shy.

A put-together, attractive woman. Too proper. Too shy. Too responsible.

If you and him were words, then you were antonyms to each other.

But that didn't matter, it was just the peripheral view you had of each other; something still drew you into each other. Like the universe was drawing up a constellation especially for you and him.

What did you have in common? Nothing. What did you like about his personality? Nothing. But Satoru was always nobody but himself and you liked that. That's the thing about him that saved you from viewing him as an unworthy madman.

And you? He thought you were always trying too hard to be somebody else, someone you were not, someone you could never be — and he wanted to change that. To see what was beneath the diffidence, beneath the plastic sheet that you covered over the image of your self.

He wanted to provoke you more than anyone else, not for the purpose of eliciting a cheap reaction and feeling fleeting amusement, but because he wanted to get you out of your shell.

His heart was on his sleeve, and yours was wrapped up in winter layers even though it was a warm spring. Satoru peeled off the layers one by one, until finally he found his gold; your sweet, tender, loving heart. And once he found it he grabbed it in a way that showed he intended for no one else to steal it from him; his love, all his.

It was just beautiful from then on. You and him. Satoru and you. The two stars in the constellation that the universe specifically designed just for you and him. Only you and him.

How did the first date happen? It just happened. How did the first kiss happen? It just happened. How did the first slow dance happen? It just happened. How did the boyfriend girlfriend thing happen? It just happened.

Everything between you and him always just happened. Like Tetris blocks falling perfectly into place. Like puzzle pieces perfectly connecting. Like clockwork.

No friction, no tediousness, no miscommunication between your stars. You and him shared your minds, bodies and souls with each other.

Like you were the same person.

SPRING 2009

Satoru's face trembled and nose reddened as tiny tears rolled out of his eyes.

This was the first time he had cried in three years. And it was a first for having an emotional breakdown in public, in the middle of a busy train station.

"Satoru, I'm sorry." you said to him. "I have to start my life."

"But we've already started a life here, together!" he yelled with a broken voice, in the middle of that busy train station. People looked.

It was Spring of 2009; you were breaking up with a 20 yr old Gojo Satoru as sensibly and sensitively as you could, but he still acted like a child.

When you and him had gotten together in 2006, both of you were just simple-minded, carefree teenagers who had yet to be shaped by the hurt of life.

Oh him and his prismatic feelings, they spill out the edge at the right angle and show a display of everything you never thought he felt.

"Things have changed. I've changed, and so have you. We have to move on from each other." you said, and he shook his head and looked at you like he was falling to pieces.

"I haven't changed! I'm still your boy. C-can't we talk about this at the cafe—

"—Satoru, my train is here."

SPRING 2018

"—Sensei, the train is here!"

He was interrupted back then just like he's been interrupted now from his daydream of you.

"What's the matter?"

Gojo-sensei's blindfold soaks up his tears, but it can't muffle his sniffling or reddened cheeks and ears. His nose wrinkles up and wiggles to the side as he sniffles and runs the back of his hand under his nostrils.

"Allergies. This is why I hate spring." he chuckles.

"Aw, get allergy medicine."

"Yeah yeah, I will. You rascals catch your train before it runs off without you." Gojo

「じゃあ！」 Yuji raises a hand of goodbye to his teacher and boards the train with Megumi and Nobara.

He waves goodbye to his students, lifting his blindfold to catch a peek before the train carries them out of sight. His smile drops when they can no longer see him at all.

He stares for a long moment at the place where you once stood, and remembers two memories;

One late spring you were on your tip-toes kisssing him for the first time.

And one late spring you were waiting for your train, breaking his heart with goodbye.

© arminsumi

I do not permit the copying/reposting/translation/plagiarism of my works. Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

This is fictional work.

[sleepy-achilles]

Show and Tell.

I am going to give a little bit of a summary as a warning. This is basically a story about the oversexualisation of Shawn and how it ends up happening to his middle child, Leon, as he gets older.

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

Shawn wasn't stupid. He knew what fans said about him, How fans acted towards him and how it wasn't okay. He also knows he never helped by the way he acted or the things he did. But..why shouldn't he be confident or feel sexy? Why shouldn't he be allowed to have fun?

As he got older, technology got better.

He saw how the younger fans and well some of the more technological advanced older fans adored a younger, more fucked up version of him.

And yeah, it did suck to see all these videos and fanfics about a younger version of yourself being called hot and handsome and sexy whilst only a majority acknowledged your looks in modern times.

Taker told him he was being silly and to ignore it. And taker was normally right.

Taker hated it. He hated how the fans sexualised Shawn. He hated how Shawn never understood how wrong it truly was. How they touched him at shows, the things they said about him. How it ended up controlling shawns life, even now. He would force himself to be slim, force himself to look good every moment of the day. He'd often find Shawn upset in the hotel bathroom if he saw one thing out of place or if a haters comment got to him.

Shawn got older. Shawn saw what taker saw. Understood how wrong it was. It was never love. It was lust. Shawn hated how even as he got older vince still used his looks over his talent. How everyone did.

Shawn felt like a puppet.

Felt like a show and tell object.

And he prayed that he'd be the last wrestler to suffer at the hands of being a visual.

And he got his wish for a while.

Only a while.

----

It crushed shawns heart when he saw the first headline.

Leon was only 15 when it began. Of course, Leon was a true child star. In the storyline since birth, in the ring the moment he could hold his own.

Leon was also cursed with the beauty and the boy didn't even know it. Not yet atleast.

Shawn frowns. "Whats wrong pa?" John asks from the sofa. "Nothing..just old news." Shawn lies. John just nods before making his way to the kitchen, were Leon and a young cassie were making lunch. "What is it?" Taker asks quietly. "Nothing. Truly." Shawn forces a smile. Taker would lose it if he read this. Shawn doesn't need that right now. He doesn't need Leon seeing it because of takers outburst.

'WWEs new young boy toy! Exclusive photos inside!'

It made Shawn feel sick. The boy is only 15.

Of course, shawn knew the moment he saw Leon he'd end up beautiful. He just wished and hoped that the outside world would never truly see it.

That their higher ups would never see it.

----

Leon frowns at vince as the meeting continues.

Leon finally had his growth spurt. He was still a lean build but he finally had some height to him.

"Hes got some height to him now, the girls will love it even more" ric comments. Leon looks at the elders as they talk about him as if he's not even there. "The girls already love him. The scar added to his attractiveness." Vince comments, not even looking up from the script. "Maybe we expose him to the media more. It'll bring non wrestling fans in. Fill more seats." Eric suggests.

Leon's heart picks up. They truly can't be suggesting this?

Leon's eyes burn into a man he considers family.

"Thats...that's a brilliant idea!" Vince smiles looking up.

Leon's heartbreaks.

It's almost like he was just show and tell to these people.

Like he's not human at all.

Just a pretty face to fill seats.

----

Leon got older, like everyone else. The difference is, he didn't age like humans. His face was older sure, but it stopped at 30 and never continued.

The fans and highers up loved it.

Leon?

Leon wishes he was ugly.

Leon glances down at the headline.

"You alright Lee?" Drew asks from the head of the table. Sheamus looks up from his breakfast to where the other man is stood, glaring down at his phone. "Perfect." Leon mutters. Sheamus glances at drew.

'Leon Michaels, WWEs hottest visual.'

Visual.

Leon despised that word.

A word that vince shoved on him from day one.

Even when he was teaming with his siblings, it was always; John is the leader, Cassidy the force and Leon? Leon the damn visual. His brother was labeled as the leader, the man on the mic. His baby sister was labeled the fighter, the charismatic one. And Leon? Leon was nice to look at.

He feels a sudden rage grow in him as he scrolls the article.

What about his talents? How hard he worked?

His heart stops as he stops at a certain part.

'The last visual to take the WWE by storm was Michaels own father, Shawn The boytoy Michaels. It became clear at a young age that Leon would take after his father Shawn and become the face of beauty for the business. And just like his father, he fills those seats everytime.'

Leon's eyes are wide with shock.

Did his pa know about this?

"Leon?" Drew asks. Leon looks at his boyfriend. "Are you sure you are alright?" Drew questions. "I have to find my pa." Leon whispers before grabbing his phone off the table and rushing out.

--

"Sloppy. Cmon guys!" Shawn sighs as he watches the newest group of rookies wrestle.

The media didn't care about this.

They didn't care about this side of Shawn. They never did.

He shaved his head and all they cared about is if he still looked beautiful.

They came to the conclusion that Shawn managed to make it work. That he managed to still look hot.

Not that it mattered. WWE had themselves a new pretty boy. Shawns looks only mattered when he was in the public, or in twitters case, when a show wasn't to their liking.

Shawn looks towards the doors as Leon walks in. "Pa" he calls walking over, ignoring the whispering and stares from the rookies. "Morning Lee." Shawn nods as the man stops infront of him. "Do you know how the media talk about you? About us?" Leon asks holding his phone out. Shawn doesn't even look at it. He doesn't need too. "Of course I do. I always have." Shawn mutters, watching as the road dogg barks at the rookies to get back to work. "They always say the cruelest things." Shawn hums. Leon frowns as he lowers his phone. "We will never be human to them. Just a piece of art on display to them." Shawn explains. "And it doesn't help when the people who expose us to them refuse to protect us because they make a easy buck off it." Shswn adds.

Leon looks down at his phone.

'Shawn would go on to tease his fans with a risky photoshoot for playgirl.'

'Leon would go on to tease his fans when he decided to push his face into the modeling world. Photoshoots varying from fully clothed to boxer shoots.'

Leon swallows. "They are basically calling us whores for being comfortable in our own skin" Leon whispers. Shawn looks at him with a frown. "Better us than the girls." Shawn whispers. Leon meets his eyes, pain filling the two toned eyes. "It shouldn't be a us or them situation." Leon states. "I know. We know. But them? The outsiders? They never will." Shawn nods.

"Im not a product." "As long as your in the public? You will always be a product to them. A possession. There own personal show." Shawn breaks it to him. Leon shakes his head. "It isn't fair." "It never will be. But we can end the cycle. No. You can end the cycle." Shawn tells him. "How?" Leon asks. "Speak up. Speak out." Shawn states.

"You think it'll work?" Leon asks. "It'll get through to a enough people. They'll be your true fans. They will spread awareness about how you feel. How we all feel about it. And they'll fight with you." Shawn explains. Leon nods and looks at his phone.

"Why didn't you?"

"Because I was apart of the wrong generation." Shawn smiles before moving towards the ring.

Leon watches him and understands. He saw and heard how people felt about his Pa in the 90s. They either loved him or they despised his guts. He could ask for space and they'd find a way to turn him into the bad guy.

Leon didn't even want to imagine how badly they'd have ripped his pa apart if he spoke about how uncomfortable he was.

Leon doesn't even want to think about how they'd rip him apart.

He opens twitter and begins a new post.

Better to try than not at all.

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

Notes

I'm tired

This didn't go how I wanted it to at all but as I got more tired the idea slowly left me.

But I like making mini posts like this to explain how certain things work in their universe. How they feel about certain things.

Obviously in real life Shawn is sexualised but it's not as bad as I obviously make it out to be here.

It just like to monsterfy the media and how they treat people like Leon and shawn.

I'm evil like that 😁

Also, Melanie martinez song show and tell is exactly the inspiration for this because its just the song that makes me think about Shawn and Leon the most.

I know I always point out that Leon is beautiful and he is the visual of the new generation and that's because we'll yes, it's true. They all know it and they aren't angry about it because it doesn't make them ugly. And whilst Leon accepts it I wanted to show that he too still has boundaries and that he too doesn't like how far this whole thing can go. Every positive has a negative. Leon's a visual, but that leads to him getting heavily sexualised by his bosses and the media for a quick buck, especially from a young age.

[backtothefanfiction]

Reading this just made me feel more proud of my writing abilities and reminded me of some of my favourite sex scenes I have ever written and it has really made me want to highlight them for you and why I love them so much.

Each one of these scenes is so completely different from one another, showing the true depths of the characters within them as they use these acts of intimacy to really help develop and flesh out who the characters are both as individuals and as partners. Each scene has a different need to be fulfilled and emotions to be shared and I am so incredibly proud of each one of them.

Angel In The Garden of Evil Chapter 19: Wash It Away

A mob!au Peter Parker Story

The intimacy of this scene coming as a conclusion for all the characters have been through not just during the story as you the reader reads it but also all the history they have together. It’s oddly sweet and tender as he takes the time to carry her into the house, to wash her in the shower and show her how much she really means to him. To literally wash away the old before they make love and bring in the new. It’s almost a whole cycle of life, death and rebirth moment. It’s the deep longing connection of husband and wife and how some loves just endure despite their tribulations.

Make Me Forget

Amazing Spider-Man Peter Parker x Harry Osborn Imagine (part two of crushed)

Running to the one person you shouldn’t to make the hurt go away. Asking your now ex boyfriends best friend to take you as his own after he rescued you from your abuser and asking them to claim you as their own and show you how to be treated right. To kiss away every hurt. To rewrite every touch on your body. It’s both painful and yet beautiful and hopeful and healing.

Nothing Ever Good Happens After 2am

A Joel Miller Story (Part 3 of the Insecure Series)

This is hate fucking at its finest. There’s so much tension and history and anger for both the past and present. Although so familiar with one another’s bodies they instinctively reach for each other due to that familiarity, but there is no resemblance of the way they once fucked to how they do now. The way they know each others bodies so well they can weaponise them against each other to do even more damage, leaving neither of them fully satisfied in the end and the act in fact only works to make their situation worse just feels heartbreaking on everyone, characters and readers alike. It’s short and to the point and makes me so proud.

What Benny Doesn’t Know Chapter 5

Frankie’s story

This is all about toxic love. It’s all the things well accepted when we are blinded by love. Overlooking the glaring problems just so you can be with them. Accepting their lies and bad behaviour. It’s doing drugs in the middle of the act. It’s cheating on partners. It is love and pain and longing and finally getting what you want but it’s at the wrong moment in the timelines and destined to fail from the second it started. Although a fun read and a wild time, the emotional weight and lessons for the reader also really shine through and I will always be proud of how I chose to handle this one, both for the characters and the over all story and it’s development.

the secret to writing good smut that doesn't feel like you're just repeating the same words for junk and fucking over and over is to spend your effort writing about everything happening around the sex and everything happening inside the heads of the people having sex and before you know it you have four paragraphs of introspection and two paragraphs describing the space and it's okay to use the word cock again

[chemicalpink]

Young Gods ❈ KNJ, JJK

❈ Pairing: Namjoon x Reader x Jungkook

❈ Genre: smut, f2l kinda, but also s2l, fantasy!au, fluff if you squint, gods!au, wizard/witch!au

➛ Part of the Namkook Moonrise Masquerade hosted by @jamaisjoons

❈ Rating: 18+

❈ Wordcount: 4.2k

❈ Warnings: it is jungkook centric, it does have a somewhat heavy plot, double penetrative sex, magical sex, teasing, slightest corruption kink.

❈ Summary: Legend has it that if you were to walk all the way up to Hallasan, and if the land is welcoming enough, you should be able to see the most beautiful lake where it is rumoured to home the most powerful being the world has ever had the pleasure to meet, so when young warlock Jungkook starts having trouble with his magic, who could blame him for travelling all the way there in hopes of finding answers only to be met with the hottest man he’s ever seen. and really,  who could blame him for fostering the biggest crush on him without saying a word for ages? that is, until y/n, a long lost friend of Namjoon shows up. so really, who is he to blame if he lets the two greatest beings in existence use him for their pleasure?

❈A/N: SHE'S HERE. GOD THIS TOOK A WHILE. Please enjoy! ALSO, banner by @jamaisjoons, I do believe the only thing that keep me writing this was the banner lol. Do tell your thoughts on this bad baby, I was heading towards a larger fic but I didn't have time yet magical au is most definitely there for future fics.

The first time Jungkook realised just how powerful he was, he was fifteen years old, although his mother can recall him being around four and being able to master a potion that most common-born non-royal witches could only hope to get mediocre at once trained at their young twenties. Of course, his magic had soon become taboo around the village, having to hide himself behind years of his father’s training, his lineage a bit closer to royalty, not quite, but just enough for his son’s magic to pass as his own. If his customers notice how better his spell jars or potions get once Jungkook turns eighteen, they sure don’t comment on it. Not that they would be able to tell that the family was hiding a master of the magical arts that could rival the country’s most powerful witch in the blink of an eye. Those were just rumours going around, as far as the Jeon’s were concerned.

“Son, I believe it is about time you get some proper practice on your magic” his father mentioned bypassing one Sunday night as they both locked up the store. He turned to hi, somewhat confused.

“Look if this is about Seojun noona’s elixir being more powerful than it usually is I swear it was a rightful mixture, my trial was right beside her actual one and she entered the shop sooner and-”

His dad shakes a hand dismissively at him, rounding the counter into the small storage room, coming back in sight with a leather-bound book in between his hands, calloused fingers roaming the antique-looking pages “I am not quite sure how much truth an old man like your grandfather could hold, but it wouldn’t hurt to try” he turned the yellowing book towards him, fast and almost undescribable scribbles decorating the paper as he squinted down at it, his father handling the energy in it to make the content quite literally come to life, a storytelling spell all too familiar to him from his young age.

“Dad, you know I absolutely love bedtime stories, but I’d say I’m quite a bit too old now for-” before he can even think about finishing the sentence, a mountain comes into view, alive straight from the book’s pages, standing tall and proud dressed in green, almost touching the sky, a magical aura surrounding it, one that he could even feel just by looking at it “What’s that?”

“The old man used to tell me stories about an ancient being, the most powerful of them all, living on top of Hallasan” the pages turn by themselves, the image changing to a faceless man, standing almost as tall and proud as the mountain itself, performing all types of magic, some of them Jungkook himself hadn’t even heard of “Legend says he was outcasted by royalty in fear of revolution, wouldn’t even be alive if it weren’t for he is a child of Earth herself”

“I-I don’t think I’m following”

His father sighs loudly before his magic shuts the book closed, all magic gone on a whim “Jungkook, whatever this man was, if my father was right and he really did exist, you might be like him”

“But-but I was born of both you and mum” he couldn’t quite yet fathom the extension of his own magic, much less think about the probability of being more powerful than any other being that had walked the Earth in millennia. Even if the man was real, would he even be alive still? If he was as powerful as he was presumed to be, would he even take Jungkook under his wing? What if he wasn’t as lucky as the man from the book and word got out and his life was endangered?

“Jungkook just think about it, you might be a child of the Earth”

“What if I don’t want to be” he couldn’t quite face his father, feeling his own heartbreak as the older man deflated. Jungkook knew that perhaps his dad had entertained the idea of his only son being a creature out of a legendary book, could feel how proud it would make him, for Jungkook to be a hero, make history with the power he presumably held within, yet he couldn’t help but feel like a small child again, afraid at the uncertainty that the future could hold. “I- I’m good with just running the shop and helping you and mother out with stuff”

His father sighed before placing a gentle hand on his shoulders, a small act that made him feel even more like a child, one getting subtly scolded by his parents as they prepare him for his inevitable future. “Jungkook-ah, your mother and I- all we really want for you is to live your own life”

His ears perk up, gaze facing forward as he catches his mother standing with her arms crossed over her body, the softest motherly look on her face “And if that means for my baby to go find himself at some faraway place, then so be it” she comes to join his father by his side, both of them bracing each other as the thought of their child growing up simmers down on them. “We just want you to grow up to your full potential Kookie”

.-.-

It had taken quite some convincing for him to completely make up his mind, the negging looks from his father as he helped around the shop, the longing yet scolding gaze his mother held over dinner until he found himself preparing a small bag for the long trip– almost burning inside his mind the map contained in his grandfather’s grimoire from the many times he had read over what he once thought to be a legend out of a children’s storybook.

The trip itself wasn’t as difficult as it was troublesome, having to hike up the highest mountain in the land, the difficult part–if the Jeon’s memories were anything to go by– was having the Hallassan land spirit to like you enough to show itself, even a step further to have the legendary witch to show his home.

For quite some time Jungkook entertained the idea of the immense possibilities on how the wizard could look, every possible image popping up in his head some variation of a wrinkly old man hunched over himself, staff in hand and he couldn’t help but laugh soundly at it, picturing himself getting nagged at by such a figure, perhaps he would end up looking like one of those old scholars that came to his village from time to time. But how wrong was he.

It took him three days, two cold sleepless nights in the woods and running in circles for at least two hours in the nothingness that was the top of the mountain for the valley to show up right where he had started to venture– he could almost hear the forest spirits snickering at him. He really tried to be angry at it, almost went back down just out of spite, yet the clearing before him had him doing a double-take, the space was bright and clear, none of the trees from before on sight, the small dipping in the middle of it leading to a sort of entrance– this was what he came for.

Jungkook had been raised better than what he found himself doing– walking into a stranger’s house uninvited. Was it really uninvited if after knocking for a few minutes the door opened on its own?

He walks inside, small steps, unsure of himself, his past resolve crumbling down completely as he walks further in where he listens to a hushed voice coming from his left, a mop of silvery hair turned away from him, green warm clothes cradling the figure, Jungkook entertains the idea of an old man still, yet not so much hunched over himself if the deep hushed voice and the hair colour was anything to go by. “...Now where did I last see-”

"Hello-"

"Oh! great timing! the pay is where it always is" broad shoulders are still facing him as the man moved around, a couple of won bills on the counter where he had waved his hand dismissively, not even bothering to turn around, for a legendary creature perhaps leaving his home door open was a recurrent thing, what with the whole clearing hidden from the public eye and all.

"Oh I'm not-" he had tried to make himself knows as definitely not the person he was expecting yet the man kept mumbling to himself, apparently in deep thought at whatever it was

""—So then if we are able to move this around we should -" he had started moving around the room, still not facing Jungkook directly, just pointing to places around the spacious room as his free hand busied itself with picking books from the humongous shelf against the wall

"I'm- uh" his hands couldn’t be still, grasping at the bag over his shoulder, knuckles almost white as he clears his throat "I'm not-"

"Did you forget where-" the man turns around and Jungkook feels whatever little poise he had gained leave him in the spot, right in front of him is the most legendary creature in existence, recorded alive for millennia, a god in more ways than one, no old man in sight but the prettiest human he had laid eyes on, fierce sight set on him awkwardly hanging at the entrance as the man keeps blinking at him "uh"

He bows down almost instinctively, 90 degrees, hair falling onto his eyes as he does so "Mister sir- uh keeper of Hallasan"

"You aren't Soobin"

"Uh.. no I'm not"

The man doesn’t even flinch at the information of a stranger setting a foot inside his house, deep voice calm as ever as he asks "How did you even get in?"

"Uh the door was open" he points to the door in a futile attempt for it to not make it seem like he was the weirdo picking locks or something at a magical creature’s home

"No it wasn't" he moves to the door in the most graciously way he has ever seen someone do it, almost gliding across the floor, eyes never leave him except for the brief second where his hand tries the doorknob "huh it was. Weird"

It took the man less than a minute after his initial shock to turn to Jungkook and invite him in, a pair of teacups resting against the table as they seated parallel to each other, him crossing his legs in a nonchalant manner as Jungkook couldn’t stop fidgeting in his seat– he certainly never thought he could come this far.

“So what can I do for you, Jeon Jungkook?” if he absolutely preened at the way that his name sounded in the stranger’s mouth, that was certainly something only for him to know.

The words died right on his tongue. There were certainly a lot of things the beautiful man seating across from him could do, none of them necessarily involving what he had initially come for, yet as the words take meaning inside his mind, he seems to short circuit yet again “I uh- you know- you know my name?”

He smiles a big smile, eyes crinkling into crescents, dimples showing and a heat simmering inside Jungkook’s belly “I know a lot of things, Jungkook” he stares off into space “Social skills are rusty, but they come back after getting a good look at you” Jungkook’s eyes must widen at the implication of his words. Could he read minds? Could he take a look into souls? “Just general stuff about you, don’t worry about it”

The man could definitely read minds.

Blink if you’re hearing this. The man blinks and Jungkook feels like fleeing. Wait. Everyone blinks, stupid. Perhaps some other time.

He somehow finds his voice, remembering the lingering question, the sole reason for him to be there “Mister Hallasan keeper, sir”

“Namjoon is fine”

“Mister Namjoon-ssi”

“Namjoon hyung”

Jungkook is sure this time his brain shortcircuits for real, for this complete stranger. Namjoon he corrects himself, to give him permission to call him so affectionately after only a few minutes of knowing him. After technically breaking- not breaking into his home.

Smile if you’re reading my mind. Namjoon smiles, something doesn’t sit right with him, he could very well be reading his mind, or simply smiling out of politeness at the extended silence Jungkook had caused, again. I’m onto you Mister Hallasan Keeper. Namjoon just smiles more fondly at him.

Jungkook goes on explaining his situation, from his rapid magic learning to being unable to wield his magic, to his father even suggesting that he could have been born from the Earth herself, just like Namjoon did all those millennia ago. The blond man restricts himself to listen to Jungkook speak, gaining a serious pose when he drops the reason for his visit, asking him for help. Jungkook’s almost sure he will deny it as he goes on to explain how his last magical apprentice had been there almost sixty years ago, going on about how he is pretty much a loner, no reason more than a brief excuse of being an outcast for practice differences with the village where Jungkook comes from, giving it a few seconds of thought before he accepts to have Jungkook under his wing, going as far as to give him a spare bedroom to sleep in along with the longest set of rules he had ever heard of.

Months with Namjoon look something more or less like this: waking up at 6 am sharp– something Jungkook had never done in his life, the first few times he had woken up later than that, it was almost impossible to know where his teacher had gone to. Have a rundown on the day’s activities and breakfast until 7. Jungkook was in charge of gardening on the 30-minute window of Namjoon harvesting for the spells he was due to make for the day. An hour of light reading– he knew better than to comment on how a thousand pages book was most definitely not light reading, but he did it anyway. He would then shadow Namjoon on whatever mystical task he had to do for the day before finishing up with him running basic high-level training with Namjoon’s guidance in the clearing– Namjoon had said that the Hallasan spirit would keep him safe and sound if he were to screw up, although so far all the spirit and her friends in the forest had done was laugh at his mistakes.

Five months in it, the whole routine came as second nature, he couldn’t even picture a day without Namjoon on it, not that there was anyone else that could pick up on the energy shift within it, Jungkook had learnt a lot from his teacher, not only in the magic department but about him as a person, couldn’t hide the lingering eyes, the curious touches of skin, every bit of information about Namjoon expanding that fondness feeling inside his heart, Namjoon was a man of habit, a powerful one at that, yet all those millennia living couldn’t hide the fact that Jungkook could see right through him, a lonely soul, as powerful as none other, yet so inherently say. Not even the whole power in the universe could keep him away from his own greatest danger: himself.

If you can read minds, kiss me. The kiss never came so perhaps Namjoon could never even read minds in the first place.

Now here’s the thing, Jungkook might be a mess when it comes to magic, but not so much at hiding his feelings, at least the best he could, Namjoon was as intelligent as men come and he had yet to notice. Namjoon’s friend that just happens to show up on a particularly lazy day– his teacher had said his magic tends to run out from time to time and would rather rest it; perhaps not so much.

Jeon Jungkook is a weak man. A weak man for beautiful things, like Namjoon, or you. Who just happened to walk inside Namjoon’s home like you owned the place– could he count it as his home too yet?

He could feel his heart wanting to leap out of him as soon as you introduced yourself, and perhaps he was imagining the way your eyes grazed over his figure before going to tease Namjoon, not that he stopped having heart eyes for the man when you walked in, he had enough heart eyes for the both of you, even if he had to keep them to himself. You were easier to warm up to than Namjoon if it was anything to go by, smoothly falling into conversation after you three had sat down for tea, walking up to Namjoon’s massive library, picking out books from their shelves as you asked him about his upbringings.

“The Jeon family? Oh, dearest, your grandfather was as good as wizards come” his brain cuts short as soon as the words leave your mouth, just how exactly could you have known the old man? The old wizard was presumably thrown out of the royal house for being unfit for ruling over the land. You playfully push your elbow against Namjoon “And I say this while knowing Joonie”

The blond man groans at your teasing.

“You-you knew my grandpa?”

“Yeh, such a shame he decided to be a mortal” Your initial interest seems to diminish as you turn to face the books yet again, a particular red cover catching your attention.

“What”

Jungkook faintly hears Namjoon standing up from his chair to try and get in between his conversation with you, although all he hears seems to come as if the voices were kept under cotton inside his ears “Y/N you’re overwhelming the kid”

For such a calm and collected posture, he had maintained not only while learning with Namjoon but back at home too, hearing such a word coming out of him really tips the glass “I’m not a kid! Why is everyone always treating me like a child!” surely it did seem rather childish to have an outburst like that, yet his mind couldn’t help but reel in all those other times in his stay where Namjoon had dismissed him from helping, saying it was a rather complicated spell you should wait this one out Jungkook. Or something along the lines of when you get stronger. It did seem the type of things one would say to their petulant child.

“Jungkook waits” Namjoon groans as he retreats to his assigned room, you can’t help the softness inside you at the way that strong independent loner Namjoon reacts to his apprentice being pissed off, certainly a first.

“You pissed off the kid” your remark isn’t that much well digested as Namjoon throws a dagger-like glare your way, groaning as he throws his head back against the couch

“Why am I parenting again?”

You shrug your shoulders as you offer him a tight lip smile, you had heard a lot about Jungkook even before you had walked inside the wizard’s home, like a reader of a slow-burning love story, you knew that ‘parenting’ was most definitely not the dynamic in his relationship with the younger, not with the way Namjoon had described the little mannerisms of his apprentice, or the way that he described his figure as the strongest back I’ve ever seen with such a tiny waist when he sent you a letter asking you to visit him.

The thing with the dynamic you had with Namjoon had been one going on for hundreds of years, feeding off of the magic that only such powerful creatures like you and him could conjure, effective yet dependent as when either of you two was in dire need of a boost, you would have to pay him a visit to work your magic. Jungkook hadn’t appeared after his little outburst, probably hidden in his room, taking only a few minutes of Namjoon glancing expectantly at the place where the younger had disappeared before you dragged him towards his room in an all too practised manner.

The whole environment was always on the calm side whenever you two get to it, something along the lines of strictly business, yet an undeniable connection between the two. Namjoon had you against his door, a dimly lit lamp on his desk, strong hands holding you in place at your waist as he leaned down to connect both of your mouths, eyes fluttering shut as he did so. Your hands found themselves tangled in his blond tousled hair in no time as he deepened the kiss, moving the both of you towards the bed as magic started glowing dimly within you two, connecting and feeding off of the spark of the situation, magic so profound and delicate that only immortal beings could hope to master. Namjoon placed himself against his elbows as you straddled his hips, your figure teasingly humping his growing bulge inside his pants as his breath started to become ragged, his own magic reaching forward to yours, just the way his lips chased yours. Yet there was only so much ominous Namjoon could handle. His hands were quick to undress both of you in between hot caresses and messy kisses as both of your bodies seem to move on their own accord, the magic itself doing the most out of the tantric experience, moans slowly but surely filling up the room as Namjoon positioned the tip of his hard cock on your entrance, teasing your folds for a few seconds before you settled on top of him in a familiar manner, sinking down on him as he throws his head back, letting out a groan. You are almost sure Jungkook could hear you both, yet your mind so clouded you wouldn’t have given it a second thought with Namjoon’s cock filling you up so nicely as you moved up and down on his length, that is until out of the corner of your eye you catch the casted shadow outside the dimly lit room.

"Your puppy is outside," You say as you stop moving on him, not quite removing yourself from the situation, yet you feel the magic in the room flickering faintly as if going dormant.

"What" Namjoon’s eyes are surprised as he lets reality sink in, his magic safely sated from the small act

"The kid that has an obvious crush on both you and me?” you state matter of factly as Namjoon’s jaw goes slack “He's watching us from behind the door"

As if on cue, there’s a rustling behind the door, feet rapidly resounding against the floor "No I'm not!"

Namjoon sighs loudly "JK just come in, I know this might seem.." the door opens and you could swear Jungkook’s eyes are about to leave his skull at the image he’s present with "weird"

"incredibly hot," they say at the same time, rendering both of them speechless

"huh kid's horny" you start removing yourself from Namjoon’s cock as your magic starts tingling, now reaching out for the younger "i like it"

"Y/N please"

You gesture by raising your hands as if surrendering, yet you know just how the night had taken a turn, willing to satiate your magic’s needs “He doesn’t like your PG training, let me handle this”

Jungkook is still sporting his Bambi eyes as he feels himself pulled into the room, closing the door softly behind him as he can only stare at you as you make your way towards him, lips ghosting over his “So tell me Jungkookie” your hand trails down to bring him closer to your naked body, taking his hand in yours and guiding it to your ass “Just how much are you willing to render of yourself for me and Joon?”

“All of me”

Jeon Jungkook might as well had been an erotic wizard like yourself if by the way he manhandles you and surrenders you to Namjoon like a loyal apprentice would to his master was anything to go by. Namjoon’s stare alone has the young man pliant as he caresses tan skin under his fingers, achingly curious as the youngest takes turns to kiss the eldest and yourself, Namjoon’s fingers playing with his nipples, your own hands working his length to life after your magic had completely undressed him, feeling both your and Namjoon’s magic reaching for Jungkook’s in a way you didn’t know was possible. A few kisses and lingering touches in, minds clouded with lust, kissing noises and moans taking over the space, Jungkook takes no time in positioning you on top of him, back to his chest as his length stretches you deliciously, long fingers playing with your clit as his own legs separate your thighs as if offering you up to his master, Namjoon looking like a man starved as he positions himself against Jungkook’s cock, his tip meeting no resistance as he glides in and nestles next to Jungkook, stretching you like no other time you could fathom, groans and ragged breaths of the men under and above you working you to your own climax, babbled words coming out of the youngest’s lips along with a promise of becoming yet another young god under your spell.

[demonsandmischief]

Our Moment Finale

Marvel - A Captain America Fairytale AU

King! Steve Rogers x Female Reader

1.8K Words

Here's Pt 1 and Pt 2

-Part 3-

the conclusion

----

You didn't waste anytime getting home, collapsing onto your bed with a sob that you muffled with your palm. It seemed nothing good could ever truly be yours.

You glanced around the small attic space with blurry tears. The house was supposed to be for you. Your father had left it in your name, yet your step-mother was able to work her way around that.

It was the only reason you stuck around, the only reason you put up with all of it. You were over it.

Peaches was the only thing that you felt a connection to. Your father adored her, and you were honored that you got to bond with her.

You made up your mind. It was time to move on. You dried that last of your tears and began packing a bag. You carefully folded your mother's dress and put it back in the box you got it from. One day when the memories weren't as painful, you would come back for it.

You wished things could be different with your life, but mostly with Steve. You should have known better than to get tied up with the king. It was too good to be true. You felt you had done everything you could to win over his trust, but obviously not enough.

You strapped your bag to your horse. The next town was about a days ride, and you could figure out where to go from there.

---

Steve didn't hesitate to saddle his own horse as quickly as possible. He had to go after you - had to explain. He couldn't lose you. You were the only good thing to ever happen to him.

He stalled in his tracks. Explain what exactly? That his biggest fear was being used and never being loved? He shook his head.

"My king, where are you off to?" a guard asked confused.

"I have to leave."

"But the ball-"

"Tell the court I will explain when I get back."

"Wait, you can't leave without someone going with you."

Steve was already racing down the path, his heart racing along with it.

"There's no time for that," he called. He could take care of himself.

He thought of you as he followed the familiar trail. He thought of the first day you met, and all of the moments thereafter. You always made time for him, always listened to what he had to say. You were attentive and doting.

He had screwed up.

The trail became less familiar. He didn't know where he was going, or how he would find you. He swallowed down the panic. He couldn't lose you. It was a constant circling thought.

Eventually the trail ended and he slowed to a trot. He saw a house up ahead, and a royal carriage in front of it.

He slowed, finding Sam speaking to a guard.

"What are you doing here and how did you get here so fast?" Steve asked.

Sam took his horse's reins. "I know something has been up with you lately, but you can explain later. The lady you talked to at the ball is in the house."

Your step-mother. He had some words for her, but first he needed you.

"Thank you, Sam. I owe you," Steve said, heading for the door.

"Your highness, it's a pleasure to have you in our home-"

"Don't act like I don't know what is going on," he said, cutting her off. "I will deal with you later. Is she here? Where is her room?"

The lady paled even beneath the layers of powder on her cheek.

"S-She's not-" she swallowed at Steve's fierce look, before gathering her wits. "My king, she's not here. She's hardly ever here. I'll show you where she prefers to spend her time."

Steve followed her down a hallway to a door with a winding staircase. She guided him up and into the small room at the top. The ceilings were so low that he had to scrunch his shoulders.

He took in the space, feeling upset at your living conditions.

"Leave me," he demanded, unable to look away from the small bed in the corner, one that contained a single blanket and a pillow, folded neatly on the end.

The step-mother was right. It looked like someone hardly lived here, except there was a freshly cut flower on the windowsill, soaking in the low, dusty light. And the books you had borrowed from his own library sat tucked by the bed. Most importantly, the beautiful dress that he never got to say anything to you about was hanging from the sides of a box under the bed. You must have been in a haste to leave.

He frowned, bending down to pick up a folded piece of paper. Were those the things you did by yourself? What had you gone through?

Steve cursed. He wished he could have started the night over. He wished that he had gone through his original plan instead of being sucked into his own insecurities.

"Where would she have gone?" he asked impatiently to the lady who was lounging on her couch.

"If she isn't in the barn with that horse, I have no clue."

There was no sign of a horse or you. He closed his eyes, feeling the anxiety creeping in and swallowing him whole. It was dark and late, and you were somewhere all alone. It was all his fault.

"She might know someone in the next town over," Sam suggested. "We could head over tomorrow."

"That's a days journey. I'll start the route tonight."

"You're exhausted, Steve," he protested.

"Just in case," his words dropped to a hoarse whisper, his mind plunged into the darkest corners.

Sam nodded. "We will catch up with you tomorrow then. Be safe."

He nodded, already going down the dark path, his heart thudding loud in his ears.

---

You were taking a break and letting Peaches rest. The fire you built was warm and soothing on your stiff limbs. Even after the incident in the woods a while back, it didn't scare you to be out alone. The stars and the moon made it seem as though you could feel your parents, and you enjoyed the sentiment, especially after the day you had.

You rested your head on your hand, your eyes fluttering closed. They were dry and sticky from the tears that had fallen.

You gave a shuddering hiccup, unable to give into the heartbreak anymore. You were cried out. Beyond upset - a numbness covered your whole body like a scab on a wound.

You jolted, hearing steps near you and you staggered quickly to your feet.

"Thank god you're alright," Steve said, rushing towards you. He pulled you tight into his embrace, and it took everything in you not to hug him back.

"What are you doing here, your highness?" you asked confused, trying to pull away. He didn't let go, only eased back so his hand remained on your shoulders.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I believed her over you. I'm sorry that it took me so long to come after you. I'm sorry for everything," he said the words so sincerely that tears filled your eyes for the millionth time tonight. He caressed you cheek, using the pad of his thumb to dry a fallen drop. "And it's just Steve to you."

"But you still did it," you whispered, voice thick with tears. "You don't trust me."

"I do trust you," he said earnestly. "and I care about you. It has been a long time since I shared those emotions with anyone."

"It doesn't matter," you successfully pull away. His hands drop dejectedly to his side. "You're a king, and I'm me. It would have never worked out."

It was quiet a moment. "Why didn't you tell me what you were going through at home?"

You sat down and Steve followed. "I didn't want you to think I was using you. I guess we both have our own insecurities."

He looked into the dimming flames of the fire. "Insecurities or not, I shouldn't have accused. I'm sorry I hurt you."

He waited, but you said nothing. "We're both exhausted and need sleep. Why don't we head back?" He stood, holding out his hand to you.

You shook your head, "I'm not going back."

He paused, fully expecting that response, but it still took him aback. He definitely wasn't going to leave you alone in the middle of nowhere though.

"Okay," he nodded, heading to his horse.

You frowned.

He turned with a blanket, draping it over you, before tending to the fire. Finally, he sat next to you with a sigh. His body was pressed against yours and you couldn't help but sag in relief at the support.

"You can't stay. You have to get back," you protested.

"Shh," he eased, kissing your forehead ever so softly. "Sleep a bit and then we will talk."

---

Gentle light breaking through the trees awoke you from your slumber. You shivered from the damp cold, curling closer to the source of warmth beneath you. Your eyes fluttered and you realized you were practically laying on top of Steve.

You called his name, shaking him gently.

"We fell asleep," you told him with a yawn, falling back onto his chest. It was the best sleep you ever had.

He hummed, wrapping his arm around your waist.

"I'm sorry. You must be freezing," he said coming to, easing the both of you up. Your cheeks heated and you moved to get off of his lap.

He adjusted the blanket so it was pulled tight over your shoulders.

"Come back with me, please," he whispered, turning your chin to look at him. "You can stay with me. I just want to be with you."

"You want me to stay with you?" you asked.

"We could get married in the summer," he grinned, the first genuine smile you had seen in a while.

"Married?" you asked, biting back a smile.

He nodded eagerly. "I'm falling in love with you."

---

Epilogue:

"Come on," Steve encouraged, pulling you eagerly down the hall to your favorite room in the palace.

Things were working out good, really good, between the two of you.

"What are we doing?"

"Close your eyes," he smiled, taking his large warm hands and covering them for you.

He pulled them off with an exaggerated ta-da, revealing a new shelf next to his in the library.

"Now you have your own spot for all of your favorites."

"Thank you," you smiled, leaning up to kiss him. "I love it. I love you."

And they lived happily ever after.

---

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[bts-weverse-trans]

201127 Weverse Magazine ‘BE’ Comeback Interview - Jungkook

Jung Kook: “I hope this feeling never fades” BTS BE comeback interview 2020.11.27

I had a chance to interview BTS before, when they debuted. During that interview, Jung Kook had one small habit; when I met him again a while later, he had corrected it. He makes a conscious effort to change himself. And after seven years, I met Jung Kook again.

You directed the music video for “Life Goes On,” BE’s title song. Jung Kook: I was really eager to direct the music video from the outset. My plan was to organize the synopsis, discuss it with the  music video director I was working with, shoot and edit them, but we were short on time. So I worked on it while sharing ideas with the director. Originally there were a lot of scenes with lip synching in them, but we took some of them out and put in more scenes that conveyed the members’ emotions better. It wasn’t easy to combine scenes, but I think now I know more about how much of everything is needed when shooting a music video.

You had shot the Golden Closet Films and uploaded them to the BTS YouTube channel, and now you shot a music video. Jung Kook: Once we were on location, we had directions for everything we needed to shoot prepared in advance, so I took candid shots of the members here and there with a camera during the shoot. We were filming in a beautiful place so when they asked me to take pictures of them as they wanted to be presented, I did.

What kind of pictures did you take of yourself? Jung Kook: I was just, in them. (laughs) I’m not in the shot for the Golden Closet Films either. I kind of take a back seat. The director had to shoot my parts for the music video, since I couldn’t film myself, so I relaxed a bit. I tried to make the other members look really good when I recorded them. Since this was a BTS music video and not my own, I wanted to show what was happening with every member and the team, not just one individual’s thoughts. Each person who watches the video might feel different, but I wanted to show that we feel what other people feel, that we’re in the same situation.

You get your picture taken a lot, but you don’t pay much attention to the ones you’re in. Jung Kook: I never really liked having my picture taken. (laughs) And I’m usually with the others when we’re working, obviously, but it’s hard to take a camera and take selfies. So I take pictures and videos of the other members every chance I get.

Do you still find it difficult to have your picture taken? Jung Kook: I put my best face forward when it’s for something I have to do, like  for photo books, but it’s still not easy. Videos are okay, though. And even though I’m not nervous at all when I sing in front of tens of thousands of people, if I have to sing or talk in front of a small group, I get super nervous. I never feel that way on stage, but maybe I have a hard time doing things that are a little bit awkward for me.

It seems like you draw a distinction between work you enjoy and work you find difficult. Jung Kook: Work related to music, like recording, composing, writing lyrics, filming music videos and things like that, are all fine. But anything outside of that is probably a challenge for me.

On BE, you each explained your feelings about work in the song “Dis-ease.” You must have experienced a cycle of enjoyable and difficult work over seven years, so how did you get through the hard times? Jung Kook: I actually understand my own problems well, so most of the time it’s okay. I can figure things out one at a time through experience instead of just looking for answers. I’m always growing and my personality changes, depending on my environment. I think I’ve learned to do things I used to find difficult by experiencing it little by little.

Speaking of growth, “Skit” was very memorable. You recorded it the day after “Dynamite” reached number one on the Billboard Hot 100 chart and you, who talked about what you did before you became trainees in “Skit” in your debut album,talked about being first place on the Billboard Hot 100 this time around. Jung Kook: When I was a trainee, I saw the older members rapping and thought, “Wow, they’re so cool!” But now, after having spent everyday together, I’ve forgotten about all that. (laughs) Sometimes I see the lyrics they wrote, see them dancing and hearing the things they say on stage, and think, “Oh, right. That is the kind of person they are. They’re a lot different now.” You know how you don’t feel it when you live with your family, but if you can’t see them for a long time, you miss them. You might even cry. We’re a real family. Like, legit! (laughs)

Your “legit family” (laughs) each put their own songs on BE and came up with units spontaneously. What was it like making the album that way? Jung Kook: We talked with the company over the outline of the album and organized our ideas together. That was our process for making songs. Then we’d listen to them together, and if we thought they weren’t great, we’d go back and work on them some more. The members would get together and say, “Hey, how about so and so do a unit song this time?” or, “What should it be about?” and share a lot of ideas that way.

How did the others respond to your song, “Stay”? Jung Kook: That song was originally meant to be on my mixtape. We planned to put a different song on the album, but after V heard it, he said, “This song that Jung Kook wrote is really good,” and then the other members all listened, said it was better than the other one, and somehow (laughs) “Stay” made it into the album. The message for the other song was also, “Even though we’re far apart, stay just where you are.” I wrote my song with the same theme so I loved that it was included in BE. At first, I wanted to talk about how we’re always together, using the English word “wherever.” I wanted to express how we’re always together no matter where we are, but Namjoon heard that and said “Stay” might be better. I liked his suggestion, so I changed it. He really helped me to organize my thoughts, since I’m not always good at writing everything I want to express.

One might go as far as to say the lyrics sound heartbreaking, but it’s arranged in EDM. Jung Kook: We imagined we were performing for the fans while we made it, jumping up and down with them.

It sounds like you really miss your fans. Jung Kook: This album really hit us in a different way, with this situation being what it is. Because the world is struggling with COVID-19, we have to keep our heads up and convey our messages to our fans.

What can your fans expect from you when you finally meet again? Jung Kook: There’s nothing specific, but when I watched our old performances, my facial expressions were awkward and my dance moves weren’t always perfect. I keep working to improve myself, so I hope   when the fans see me, they think my performance is amazing and that my aura fills the stage.

Are you happy with how you look in your latest work? Jung Kook: I’m not 100% satisfied, no. When we did performances for “Dynamite” recently I kept seeing my imperfections.

Your acting in the intro to your “Dynamite” performance was really impressive. Even in COVID-19 times, you captured a feeling of liveliness and being cool, as though to explain what the song is all about. Jung Kook: Actually, on the first day of filming the music video, I was supposed to film my parts first, but I was so bad that it had to be pushed to the end of the shoot. So,I was a bit more relaxed when the camera rolled.

So that’s what you get when you’re relaxed! (laughs) Jung Kook: Yes, I relaxed, and something went “pop!” and “boom!” inside me, and then I did it however I wanted. (laughs)

It’s fascinating how someone who performs the way you do during stadium tours can feel nervous while filming and yet still do so well in it. Jung Kook: I can be a shy person. When people used to ask me to sing, I couldn’t always do it—like in front of adults or teachers. And I’m still a bit like that. If I start thinking, “Oh, I can’t do this,” then I really end up not being able to do it. Even when I could have done well.

Why do you think that is? Jung Kook: I feel the same way about my dancing and my singing, and I can’t compose a really amazing melody either. I feel like I’m always somewhere in the middle. But then I also think I have my own colors, so I like to quietly, slowly open up to people, and let them know what kind of person I am. Yeah, something like that. (laughs)

But, when you review your songs and performances objectively, you see all of your changes, don’t you? Jung Kook: There’s a lot of change. My voice has changed a lot; I grew taller and my frame and facial structure have changed, too. I could tell how awkward I looked at the beginning, but after a while, I think, “My gestures look better now, but I feel like my dance is too rigid.” And again after a while, “Now my dance is fine and my gestures are good, but I’m making awkward facial expressions.” And later, I say, “Now I got the facial expressions down, but, hmm, there’s no killer move.” (laughs) That’s how I slowly changed. And then my actions, thoughts, dreams, goals, what I value, what I want to do—all these things will change depending on the situation.

You had some changes in BE, too. Throughout “Life Goes On,” you lightly carry your voice and tone throughout the whole song, like they’re flowing. Jung Kook: Right. I think that’s very important. My general feeling was my voice should be woven into the song, rather than bringing out my individual voice. The lyrics say the world stopped, but I can’t keep on being sad, and life continues and flows on. I wanted to mix a little bit of my own colors into that complex, subtle sadness. I listened to how the other members recorded their parts for the song, and I sang while thinking about how I could do it in a way that it would all blend together well. I kept changing my voice exploring how to make it sound better, cleaner. I kept trying new things while I was recording, performing, and practicing.

When you look back after all that change, don’t you feel like you accomplished a lot? Jung Kook: I don’t really pay attention to things that have already happened. I think more about what it is I need right now, so I rarely think, “I got a lot better from how I used to be,” or, “I did a good job.”

You sound insatiable, in a good way. Jung Kook: Yes. This is how I want to keep living, and I hope this feeling never fades.

You’ve found immense success with BTS. What makes you want to keep doing more and keep improving yourself? Jung Kook: I want to show people who I am: how I talk, how I act, how I sing, and so on. And after that, I want to be acknowledged for doing what I like to do, and for people to see what an amazing guy I am. I want to do these things step by step. I want to be appreciated as Jung Kook, as the real me.

What do you think is the source of that energy—the energy to keep proving yourself, even though you’ve already achieved so much with BTS? Jung Kook: I think my heart’s telling me to. BTS was able to climb this high thanks to the group members, the company and our fans. But there’s always the question of whether I could receive that kind of recognition by myself, so I have this feeling of wanting to throw myself at some challenge alone. There’s a lot I want to do, and a lot I want to achieve.

By gradually improving yourself, what kind of person would you ideally want to become? Jung Kook: A person who’s crazy awesome in their field. (laughs) Those kinds of people look cool even when they do something different. I still have a long way to go. I feel like I could be more captivating and draw more out of people by improving any number of things, by trying hard to be confident about my singing, or the way I dance and perform. BTS is way more important and meaningful to me than I am to myself, so I’m not saying I want to do anything alone. But I hope I get to the point where I can perform alone for three or four hours in a venue full of people.

It’s clear that your job, music, is very important to you. Jung Kook: I must never let it go. That’s what I always think. I have to keep it close to me, even if I get bored, or I don’t want to hear it, or it feels like a hassle. I want to keep on making music. It may be a long ways down the road, but I want to prove myself with my music.

You said before that your MBTI is ISFP, so I looked it up. Obviously, MBTI can’t sum up a person perfectly, but it says ISFPs tend to be “curious artists.” Your answer reminds me of that. Jung Kook: That sounds about right. I looked up the personality traits for ISFP too, and it was interesting. (laughs)

Maybe that’s the reason you set your goals so high. You seem like you have high standards and want to keep growing. Jung Kook: It’s like a foggy mountain top. (laughs) I can’t even see it yet.

You’ve been climbing for seven years, staying curious. Is there anything you want to say to the people who have been watching you all this time? Jung Kook: Umm … Well, there are seven of us, and the seven of us keep running ahead. So it’s possible we could get tired, one by one, and drop out, right? But if more people join us, one by one, and run with us, we can support each other and pull each other up if someone falls down. That’s kind of how I feel. There are people who supported us from the beginning who have been watching us the whole time since, and because of them our follower count keeps going up, and they all keep us on track. So the only thing I can say is—thank you. We were nothing special, really (laughs) but they keep on liking us and supporting us, and the best way we can repay them is to give them our all through our music and our performances. They push me to work hard, even on things I find difficult. (laughs) I’m eternally grateful.

Just like in the last line of “Stay.” Jung Kook: “We are together.”

Trans © Weverse

[tommyspeakycap]

ben white angst?

holiday heartbreak

ben goes on holiday after the euros and gets caught in the act of completely ruining your relationship with him

“Ben White and Kalvin Philips go shirtless with bikini-clad beauties on Mykonos yatch for the second day!”

You wouldn’t usually entertain the articles, wouldn’t bother to read them because half the time they were written without an ounce of truth or things that had been taken completely out of context. This one, not so much.

Ben actually was on a yatch full of women. Ben’s hand actually was on that woman’s knee. That girl actually was rubbing bicep and then he actually was kissing her in the doorway into the inside room of the yatch. You might usually have called those cameras invasive, but today they clued you in on that which you truly really needed to know. Admittedly, you weren’t even worried before an article link got sent to you two days ago by one of your close friends.

‘why didn’t you didn’t tell me you and ben broke up??’ she had wrote. you typed back; ‘we haven’t, why?’ and she sent you the first article.

“White and Phillips show off washboard abs partying with lady friends on Mykonos beach”

Your heart had been aching in your chest since you seen it, him with a girl on his shoulders in the sea playing ball games. It was easier to shrug that off, but something just didn’t sit right with you about this.

And you were right.

Now he was kissing her, half hiding in a doorway with her pressed up against him probably thinking he’s out of the prying paparazzi eyes. Not quite, Ben.

Caught.

“When’s he home, then?” Your best friend asks, her face clearly concerned as she sits on the the plush bed in the middle of the huge master bedroom. You stand at the foot of the bed, a large black suitcase sat in front of you and a hefty pain in your heart. “They get three weeks but he’s coming back early. I’ve got a couple days yet.” You mutter, trying to keep your croaky voice from cracking again. “So how come you’re leaving today, then?” She asks, clambering off the bed when she notices you struggling with the case.

“You sit i zip?” You nod, perching your hum on the case as she runs the zip around. “Sooner i get out of here the better, y’know? Rip the bandaid off.”

“Makes sense,” she shrugs, “Arsehole. If i ever see him i swear i’ll give him one of these.” She hold up her fist, shaking it in signification that she would probably punch his face in for the hurt and all the tears you’ve shed since yesterday. She pulls the suitcase of the neatly made bed as you grab the other, each lifting a duffel bag to stack on top of it “Have you got everything?”

“All that we can carry for now. He’s not back till early next week so i can come back for the rest before then.” You explain, turning off the tv in the room before you open the door to let your friend go through first. Once she walks out, you remain stood where you are almost as if your feet are glued to the floor. You can’t help but look around, your heart throbbing in pain as every memory in this rooms floods your mind. You’d dated Ben for four years. Four years. And this room held so many memories that were only yours and Ben’s to have. Little kisses on the temple when he got home late to you already sleeping, singing together in the en-suite shower, TV movie marathon sick days and lockdown series binges wrapped up in each other’s arms. Passionate kisses all over your body, his hands, his lips, him working his way around you; ravishing you. Laying awake in the middle of the night talking in sleepy slurs about a family, one that’s half him and half you with his eyes and your smile. If he hadn’t wanted that he certainly hadn’t let on until he decided to throw everything out the window.

Following your best friend through the house too big for two people was equally as painful. You had built your life with and around him, it felt so empty to be leaving everything here. How he was going to explain this to his mother you don’t know, but she’s phoned you multiple times since yesterday so you had to assume she’s seen the news already. His mother loved you and she had been fully prepared for grandchildren sometime soon. So we’re you, ready for kids now and he had told you too and now here he was; off snogging a pretty model like girl at the first opportunity.

You flick off each light switch as you go, making sure everything is locked up while your friend puts your bags in the car.

“You keeping that then?” She gestures to the jumper you wear as you stand in the foyer; car fully packed, house empty of your possessions. You look down, eyes cast down over the tattery old hoodie. It’s oversized, discoloured and most importantly not yours but it just smells so much like him. Ben never wears it really, he’ll throw it on to walk to dogs sometimes or if he’s making a quick run to the shop to fill his car or grab movie night snacks but generally, it’s become yours because it was his so long his scent is engraved in it. You wear it when he’s gone, when you miss him and when you want nothing more than to be held by him. It makes you feel at home no matter where in the world you are.

The sigh you heave past your lips is a strong and dejected. You strip off the hoodie, but when your friends back is turned you slip in into your bag.

You just aren’t quite ready to give up all of him just yet.

[onestowatch]

19 LGBTQIA+ Artists You Need to Listen to This PRIDE

PRIDE is all about self-empowerment and self-determination. It’s about not just being comfortable with who you are but showing the world that there is pride to be found in being unapologetically you. And that’s why, this PRIDE, we wanted to shine a light on a small handful of our favorite LGBTQIA+ artists. Ranging from rapturous hyperpop, revelatory bossa nova meditations, romantic rave music, and everywhere in between, these are 19 LGBTQIA+ artists who deserve a spot on your PRIDE playlist and every playlist for that matter. 

girl in red

In her debut single, “i wanna be your girlfriend,” a teenage girl in red unapologetically sings of young queer love over a mesh of lofi production and jangly instrumentation that would come to define much of the bedroom pop genre. It is a standout moment of unrelenting honesty, and a serenely simple three-minute confession that would go on to strike a chord with millions who were afraid of what it meant to be something more than friends. Now, a few years later and following the release of her critically-acclaimed debut album, if i could make it go quiet, Ulven still writes with that same emotional honesty, putting forth every ounce of herself for the world to see. 

Meet Me @ The Altar

“the little lonely black alt girl i was in the 00s is living rn, she never even dared to hope she might see this 💖💖,” reads the top comment on Meet Me @ The Altar’s music video for their single “Garden.” It is a sentiment shared by much of the rising band’s fanbase, who are used to the mainstream alternative scene championing cis white males. Existing in the space between pop-punk and hardcore, Meet Me @ The Altar exists to challenge the notion that queer women of color don’t have a place in punk. And after penning a record deal with Fueled By Ramen, home to the likes of Paramore, Panic! at the Disco, and nearly every pop-punk band that made up your middle school playlist, chances are this is just the beginning for our new favorite punks.

THE BLOSSOM

For Lily Lizotte, better known as THE BLOSSOM, music exists as the synthesis and subsequent recontextualization of a host of past experiences. From the sound of their dad belting away in his home studio to stumbling upon niche Internet subgenres, THE BLOSSOM transforms all this and more into a sound that is instantly recognizable but impossible to perfectly place. The culmination of this host of influences takes sweeping sonic form on their debut EP, ‘97 BLOSSOM, a perfectly imperfect introduction to one of the most fascinating rising artists of recent memory.

BIMINI

You may recognize BIMINI as Bimini Bon-Boulash, the runner-up on the second season of RuPaul’s Drag Race UK. And now you should familiarize yourself with Bimini, brit-pop extraordinaire. Releasing their debut single “God Save This Queen” earlier this June, Bimini deftly channels late ‘90s brit-pop and punk to deliver a single that has us absolutely living for the ensuing chaos. Serving up multiple looks throughout its eye-catching music video, “God Save This Queen” is not just a non-binary anthem but a veritable 2021 lookbook.

Hope Tala

With a sound that falls somewhere between turn-of-the-century R&B and bossa nova, Hope Tala’s music is expectedly a dream given sonic form. Perhaps that’s why much of the UK singer, songwriter, and multi-instrumentalist’s music is able to so deftly weave imagery of love, heartache, and teenage fistfights into tightknit tracks that feel simultaneously transcendental and deeply personal. And with the release of her 2020 EP, Girl Eats the Sun, Hope Tala poses one all-important question, “Why have a life if you’re not going to do something crazy and make a difference in the world?” 

chloe moriondo

For much of chloe moriondo’s avid fanbase, watching her transform from budding ukulele sensation to pop-punk phenom very much meant watching her grow up. Getting her start on YouTube, moriondo's fanbase witnessed her evolve as both an artist and person. Coming out in the aptly titled “a ramble about self identity, growth, and being a lesbian,” to be a fan of the artist often feels like trading secrets with a close personal friend. It is a sentiment that rings all the more true upon delving into her debut album, Blood Bunny. Grappling with coming-of-age at the axis of empathic pop and euphoric pop-punk, Blood Bunny sees moriondo taking yet another impressive step forward.

Godford

Little is known about Godford beyond what can be garnered from a handful of interviews online and his succinct Spotify bio, and chances are he’s happier that way. The anonymous DJ and producer aims to make non-binary music that exists outside of the confines of genres, overly-simplified classifications, and even himself. What is important are the emotions his music hold and what his listeners take away. Fusing romanticism and rave in his debut album, Godford: Non Binary Place, the anonymous artist does just that. He provides a space that exists simultaneously everywhere and nowhere, like an ephemeral night spent out on the dancefloor with a stranger or close friend.

Joy Oladokun

Joy Oladokun is at the core of her music. It may at first glance appear to be a painfully obvious statement, but as her sincere songwriting seeps into every corner of your soul, it is a notion that becomes undeniable. In her major label debut, in defense of my own happiness, Oladokun writes with an unabashed authenticity, never turning a blind eye to the world around her. These shared reflections and recollections of life are often heartbreaking and uplifting in the same breath, but in their candidness, we can begin to piece together what it means to be human, imperfections and all.  

Allison Ponthier

Allison Ponthier may only have a handful of singles to her name, but her unmatched potential is clear as day. Raised in the outskirts of Dallas, Texas, Ponthier’s moving songwriting and emphatic vocal prowess speak to her country roots. Pair that country sensibility with some of the most pristine pop songwriting we have heard in quite some time, and you begin to understand just how exciting Ponthier is as a rising artist. With only two singles to date, there’s not much else we can say beyond do yourself a favor and play “Cowboy” on repeat.

Rina Sawayama

It feels like no hyperbole to call Rina Sawayama an inevitable pop icon. First garnering critical acclaim with singles like “Cherry” and her 2017 debut EP RINA, the Japanese-British singer-songwriter staked her name on her immaculate ability to capture all the glamour and larger-than-life appeal of early ‘00s pop. Building on what was a nostalgic yet forward-thinking vision, Sawayama returned with her 2020 eponymous full-length debut. From nu-metal, club beats, to veritable pop anthems, SAWAYAMA emerged as a genre-defying showcase of an avant-garde pop star.

Arlo Parks

Listening to Arlo Parks’ music is akin to sipping on a hot cup of chamomile tea as you watch the world slowly pass by your living room window. It is a testament to the British poet and singer-songwriter’s subtle yet beautiful way with words, the way in which each lyric serves as a glance into a tightly-held memory or passing observation. These poetic musings come to life in her debut album, Collapsed In Sunbeams, which layers lyrical revelations over some of the most tender R&B of recent memory. Parks’ is more than a must-listen; she feels like the birth of a new wave.

Claud

Claud has spent the past few years making a name for themselves in the indie pop world, and the culmination of it all arrives in their debut album, Super Monster. The acclaimed album sees Claud reckoning with coming-of-age and love with an irresistible charm. Pair that with a penchant for grounded, affective songwriting and infectious, dreamlike melodies and you have one of the best debuts of recent memory. In case you somehow need any further convincing that Claud is one to watch, Super Monster marks the debut release from Phoebe Bridgers’ Saddest Factory Records.

UMI

Equally as inspired by R&B and neo-soul as she is by her generation’s penchant for blurring genre lines, UMI and her music exist as a form of spiritual healing. Half-Black and half-Japanese, her work explores everything from identity to self-introspection, such as on the aptly-titled Introspection. It is a fondness for self-exploration that UMI delves headfirst into on her 2019 EP Love Language, a sublime blend of identity struggles, love, and anime that tackles the issue of always feeling like an other, never Black or Japanese enough.

Joesef

Sad boy summer. It’s the simplest way to being explaining Joesef’s serene albeit somber sound. Emerging out of Glasgow, the quickly rising star often wears his still bleeding heart on his sleeve, even when the underlying sonics seem to be moving onto greener pastures. It is an exquisite balancing act that comes to life on his 2020 EP, Does It Make You Feel Good?. Blending elements of soft-spoken R&B, jazz, and ethereal pop, Joesef sets himself apart as an artist whose influences and appeal know no bounds.

Serena Isioma

At the top of the year, we named Serena Isioma one of our top artists to watch in the year to come, and for good reason. The self-proclaimed “nonbinary rock star” experienced a breakout moment with “Sensitive,” a track that is difficult to perfectly encapsulate but think along the lines of fusing modern-day R&B and woozy indie-pop with reckless abandon, and you’ll be about halfway there. It was an impressive standout track that was only buoyed by a pair of EPs, Sensitive and The Leo Sun Sets, in 2020, officially cementing Isioma as an artist like no other.

Khai Dreams

Khai Dreams’ music is effortlessly easygoing. With its straightforward guitar lines and understated production, every track from the Pacific Northwest singer-songwriter flows out as naturally as breathing. Maybe it’s that laid-back approach that begins to explains Khai Dreams’ universal appeal and millions of monthly listeners, despite releasing most of his music independently. A hallmark of the DIY generation and its massive homebrewed potential, it would be a crying shame if you didn’t let Khai Dream’s serene meditations transport you somewhere far from here.

Frances Forever

Like much of their Gen Z cohorts, Frances Forever’s exponential rise was not the result of a well-executed marketing plan but by the pure chance of a single song finding a home online. The song in question, “Space Girl,” was originally part of NPR’s Tiny Desk Content before soon blowing up on TikTok, and it’s not hard to see why. Short, sweet, and to the point, “Space Girl” is a saccharine love letter to that bubbly feeling of floating on cloud nine. Now signed to Mom+Pop and with their debut EP, Paranoia Party, due out later this year, this is the perfect time to get familiar with Frances Forever.

Dorian Electra

Unapologetically playing with gender norms and stereotypes while seeing just how far they can push the limits of pop, Dorian Electra has long maintained a cult following in the world of experimental, highly addictive hyperpop. And it’s not hard to see why. Having collaborated with the likes of Charli XCX, 100 gecs, Village People, Pussy Riot, Rebecca Black, and more, Electra’s music ranges from off-the-rails hyperpop to introspective pop slow burns. All of this and more reaches a fever pitch in their 2020 album My Agenda, a devious showcasing of one of pop’s most explosive figures.

MAY-A

Maya Cumming, professionally known as MAY-A, is no stranger to the hustle it takes to make it in the music industry. The Australian artist got her start entering numerous singing competitions in her hometown of Byron Bay and started busking on the streets at the tender age of 11. Now, she has a breakout single under her belt in the form of “Apricots,” an anthemic indie-pop ode to queer love. And since that breakout moment, MAY-A has continued to release impressive single after single—the latest being the collaborative “American Dream.”

[unwrittenlibrary]

Tee’s Summer Reads 🖤

hi all! as summer comes to a close and classes start back up again, i wanted to come on here and share some pieces i read over break that i just loved.

as always, heed to any and all warnings each creator has put in place. eighteen plus spaces deserve respect and you are urged to show them it.

— ➶ —

Bucky Barnes

i wished one the moon for you by @sunmoonandbucky • “After losing Bucky, you were devastated. So when Howard Stark asks for volunteers for an experiment, you're the first in line.” -> 40s buck & present bucky? love that lasts through time? love it

the shot heard round the tower & unwarranted weakness by @pellucid-constellations • “you just want to know if bucky has feelings for you. bucky just wants you to be okay.” -> these two pieces can be read separately, but i highly suggest reading them both because bucky is written so well and they made me feel warm all over. 

see the world the way you do by @vanderlustwords • “you start to see color when you meet your soulmate. bucky thinks that soulmates are a one of a kind thing.” -> there are So many lines in this that just... sit with you. i felt so much reading this. that tight feeling in your chest, pure happiness, anger... i just absolutely loved this. 

a little old fashioned by @gogolucky13 • “bucky is a bit subtle in telling you he likes you.”-> behold...sweet, shy comfort fic bucky. i go back and read this when i’m sad. 

he’s a good friend by @markandlexies • “reader is tired of watching bucky go on dates with leah and flirt with sarah.” -> give me all the oblivious, pining friends to lovers. just incredible writing and a truly lovely piece. 

tap by @houseravenclaws •  “bucky never talked much, he fell in love anyway.” -> you KNOW i already love sarah’s writing, it was on my last list. HERE’S MORE! this fic tore me apart in the best way and i still think about it all the time. it has become a go to. 

all the good things by @/houseravenclaws • “bucky’s been a little more than happy recently. sam thinks it has something to do with the pretty girl on the team.” -> need i say more? i needn’t say more. 

i love you, you idiot by @chrisevansjellybeans • “we’re best friends but won’t say we’re in love trope.” -> this fic made my heart sore. i love when writers have the ability to show love through the smallest of details and this fic did that so well. 

the things you’ve done by @divine-mistake • “what if the world ended tomorrow and all he did was spend his last day with you thinking about how you never hold his metal hand and you never walk on his left side and you constantly reach for his right arm?” -> OHHHHHHHHH MAN oh man this fic left me in shambles. absolute shambles and gave me a big, bright smile. insecure!bucky just does something to me. bucky is written perfectly in this. 

cornerstone by @agentofbarnes • this is a piece of zee’s (incredible) barnes’ au where bucky and reader (babydoll) are married with kids. -> i love the entire barnes’ au, but this piece honestly meant so much to me??? seeing bucky as an incredibly loving and open father just makes me so happy. 

leather jacket full of cats by @bucksfucks • “bucky brings home kittens.” -> nora doesn’t write fluff, but when she does it comes out absolutely incredible???? bucky and kittens?? PLEASE this made so happy (hi keep an eye out for more of nora’s work in the nsfw section) 

bulova by @babycap • “in the five years between the two snaps that changed it all, life had moved on, as life is want to do. In the aftermath of that final battle, you discover that time waited for no one (least of all you), and those you loved marched forward into it without you. Sam suggests you volunteer at the local retirement community to keep you busy, keep your mind from lingering on what—and who—you lost. In giving back, you find that time can be just as generous as it is cruel.” -> this is a babycap (dev my love) fan account. i have never read such beautiful words & i am always so stunned by the amazing works that dev puts out. i get so excited to read them. 

sunset by @belladonnabarnes • “bucky meets a pretty girl and her little sister at the zoo.” -> how did you know it was my dream to meet bucky at the zoo jaye?????? ahhhhh i loved this fic so much, it was so incredibly sweet i had the dopiest smile on my face when reading it. 

crawl home to her by @wkemeup • “stranded without coms, alone, and bleeding out in the middle of a russian snow storm, bucky is content to let nature take its course. only you won’t seem to let him go.” -> this fic is a masterpiece. a genuine piece of art. i was on the edge of my seat reading it, hoping i could faster than possible just to find out if bucky made it.

suburbia by @/wkemeup • “posing as husband and wife, you and bucky infiltrate a quaint suburban neighborhood in search of a hydra hacker. perhaps if you weren’t so in love with him and he hadn’t broken your heart, the act of pretending wouldn’t hurt so much.” -> yeah this one HURT. in the best way, an absolute favorite. so so so good.

that was premonition, i think by @divine-mistake • “sometimes you wish you had never fallen in love with bucky. screw that ‘it’s better to have loved and lost’ bullshit. you wish you had never fallen in love with bucky barnes.” -> just so so good. i was speechless after reading.

Others

Sam Wilson

the summertime and butterflies all belong to your creation by @golden-bucky • “you’ve never been one for baseball, but sam wilson is enough to change your mind.” -> ok. listen. i HAVE always loved baseball and this fic made me dream of mr. sam wilson in a lil uniform and me cheering him on. it was so sweet and i just loved it. a dream come true.

scary love by @bvckysmoon • “the first ‘i love yous’ are always scary.” -> being in love with sam wilson? yes please! this fic is so tooth achingly sweet, i adore it.

that way by @belouva • “you don’t know what label to fall under anymore. were you his roommate, friend or his lover?” -> i love roommate! sam… the first two parts of this series are so good.

Steve Rogers

you don’t know by @/divine-mistake • “until her gaze falls on you and her lovesick puppy dog eyes morph into saucers, leaving her frozen in pure shock. that visage quickly melts away to reveal a smug smile, aimed right at you, and you know exactly what she’s thinking at this moment.” -> steve & plus-size reader! i actually teared up, this fic hit really close to home and is beautifully written.

Spencer Reid

the one where everyone finds out by @reidscanehand • “Spencer Reid is in love with Y/N, and she’s in love with him...only they don’t know it yet...and they might be are definitely going to be the very last to know. And since Spencer and Y/N happen to be surrounded by the best profilers in the country, the rest of the team is, of course, the first to piece together the romance. Little by little, bit by bit, the team solves the case of Spencer and Y/N.” -> i constantly go back and reread this fic… it means so much to me!

work wife by @differentkettleoffishalltogether • “Spencer can’t help but feel a little jealous when it seems like his best friend is interested in someone else.” -> best friend spencer & love confessions? yeah that’s what i like.

Aaron Hotchner

dream a little dream by @ssahotchswife • “Following an injury, the reader dreams about time spent with Aaron Hotchner and his son. She relives heartbreak about Aaron's relationship with Beth and the love she has for Jack. Aaron must come to terms with his feelings for the reader when she wakes.” -> aaron hotchner is my comfort man and this fic makes my chest ache

NSFW

just friends by @/bucksfucks • “you and chris are just friends, right?” -> chris evans please i’m free on saturday

forbidden fruit by @/bucksfucks • “you attempt to set your ex’s things on fire. bucky has a better idea.” -> dadsbestfriend!bucky has my heart and it’s literally because of nora’s writing

appointments by @buckycuddlebuddy • “bucky barnes, finally being able to live freely in 21st century, accidentally gets a fuck buddy and starts to rediscover himself. the only weird thing about this situation is that you have to make an appointment to get railed by him.” -> ooooooooof i love this lil series so much

— ➶ —

these are all of my summer reads!!! i’ll definitely post another one after fall semester, this will most likely be a seasonal thing.

[bellisperennis0]

New Hope

Word Count: 2,505

Warning(s): Heartbreak, few swear words, did I mention heartbreak, Spoiler to Season 3 Episode 8, possible happy ending

Notes: Loved this request when I got, just sorry it took me a lifetime to finally get to. Based off this fic - Beautiful Storm. As always, thank you for reading and hope you enjoy! ❤️  GIF credit to angels-reyes

rkil98 asked: I love your imagines! Your so talented! I just wanted to make request for a imagine that goes with a “a beautiful storm”. It’s the night Angel showed up on her doorstep and she told him she was pregnant and maybe the morning after? I think it would be so dope seeing the ways he made it up to her and proved he was all in. You don’t have to if you don’t want to but if you do I’ll love you forever! ❤️

Blowing out the last candle on the dinner table, you take one last look around the tiny home you shared with Angel for the past few years.

This was the last straw for you; you were done fighting for someone who wouldn’t even fight for you. You were tired of the lonely nights of crying yourself to sleep. Tired of coming last in his world.

Making one last sweep of the bedroom to make sure you had everything you needed; you freeze when you hear the front door open and close, praying it was just EZ and not Angel.

When you hear Angel call your name, you knew from his tone he wasn’t all that pleased. “Fuck” you breathe out and make your way back out to the living room.

“The fuck is all this!” he yells as he points to your bags sitting by the front door.

Crossing your arms across your chest, you lean against the door frame. “Do you know how many times you have promised me you would be home for dinner?” you ask him “I promise you querida, I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Leaving the Clubhouse now. Be there in just a few minutes.” you tell him as you do your best to mimic his voice.

His eyes go from you towards the kitchen. His head dropping when he sees the candles and the plates of food, yet again, sitting on top of the table, long forgotten.

“Save the bullshit excuse, Angel. I’m honestly tired of you constantly breaking my heart.” you tell him as you sniffle.

His head shooting up when he realizes you were crying.

“Bab-“ he tries to say as he tries to take a step closer to you, but your hand going up stops him.

“We aren’t happy Angel. We haven’t been for months now. I think its best if we take a break from each other for a while.” you start. “We both have things we need to work on individually before we could work on this relationship.” you continued.

“So that’s it? You’re making this decision for the both of us? I have no say?” Angel says and you can tell he was trying to control his anger.

You furrow your brows. “Angel, you made that decision a long time ago when you repeatedly chose the club and the rebels over me, over us. I used to be your number one priority, now I don’t even know where I stand in your world.”

“We can work this out, querida.”

“What do you think I’ve been trying to do with all these dinners and movie nights I plan? If you would actually show up instead of being over the border with Adelita, you would know that.” you shout, your emotions and frustration growing.

Angel sighs in frustration and he pinches the bridge of his nose, “I’m not going to just stand here and let you walk out that door.”

“You don’t have a choice, Angel. It’s now or when you’re gone.”

“No, [y/n]!!” his gruff voice yells. You step back in surprise at his sudden outburst. Sure you and Angel had your fair share of arguments, but he has never raised his voice in such a manner before.

Throwing his hands up, “I’m sorry.” he whispers as he tries to step forward, but stops when you take another step back.

“I can’t do this anymore, Angel. I just need some time to think about everything going on. Some time away.”

“Time away. From me?” he asks and you could hear the hurt in his voice.

“Not just you. From the MC. This relationship. Having to act like I’m happy all the time. I need to find myself again.” you tell him, fighting the tears.

He just stands there nodding.

“I love you, Angel, more than anything in this world, but I can’t stand on the sidelines of your life anymore. Once you figure everything out with the MC, with Adelita and the cartel, and then maybe you can figure out what it is you really want.” You tell him.

“But I want you, querida. A life with you.”

“Your actions say otherwise. I need to step away for us, from you, and I need you to allow me to do this, for the both of us.”

“I can’t. I can’t just let you walk out that door, [y/n].” he whispers.

Walking up to him, you place a hand on his chest and a soft kiss to his lips, “I love you.” you whisper before walking to get your bags by the door.

“This isn’t goodbye, Angel. I’ll see you soon.” you tell him and wait for him to nod his understanding before making your way out the door.

----

Now you find yourself sitting in the middle of your bedroom floor, wiping away the tears that stream down your cheeks as you stare down at the piece of paper and the countless sticks sitting in front of you.

A routine doctor’s appointment earlier in the day came with a surprise that flipped your world upside down.

“You’re pregnant.” you could hear the doctor’s voice as the moment replayed in your head.

Even with a sonogram in your hand, you were convinced that it was all a fluke - a sick joke from the universe - and stopped and grab some pregnancy tests on your way home. Now all eight tests sit in front of you with two pink lines or ‘pregnant’ on its screen, alongside your sonogram.

You didn’t know how you were going to tell Angel. It had been three months since you left and contact with him had been non-existent the last couple months.

This was something you and Angel had extensively talked about in the past, all before the MC and the L.O took top priority. The one person you wanted to tell the most hasn’t been answering your calls or messages, and it wouldn’t be fair to him to tell Pop or EZ first. So looks like you’ll have to keep this your little secret till you could finally tell Angel.

----

After a long day at work and constantly feeling sick, you were lying in bed with a long forgotten program playing in the background as you aimlessly scroll through videos on your phone. You could make out a faint knock through the low noise coming from the TV.

You furrow your brows as you prop yourself up on your elbows, closely listening to see if there was another knock or if you were just hearing things.

Then you could hear another knock - louder this time. A brief pause later, you could make out the faint voice of Angel. Quickly tossing off the blankets, you make your way down the hall to the door.

Flinging open the door, you find Angel standing there. You could tell he was drunk, but the tears streaming down his face had you instantly worried.

“What happened? What’s wrong Angel?” you ask as you step closer to try to console him, but he pushes past you and barges right into your home.

“She lied to me,” you could hear him say as you close the door behind you. Turning to find Angel pacing your living room floor.

“She fucking used me.” he says, his tone turning into anger.

You automatically knew who he was talking about, but you didn’t know the contents of what he was referring to.

“What are you talking about, Angel?” you ask in confusion. A part of you wanted to know what had happened so you could help him through it, but the other part of you was too scared of what he might tell you.

He finally stops pacing the room and looks up at you. He takes a deep breath before taking a seat, his head in his hands.

“The night you left, I was so upset that I needed someone, anyone, to talk to that hadn’t walked out on me already. I went to see her.” he tells you as he finally lifts his head to look at you.

“I didn’t go to see her to intentionally hurt you, but one thing led to another. Come to find out a few weeks later she tells me she’s pregnant....” he stops when you quickly make your way to the kitchen, emptying what little contents of your stomach into the kitchen sink.

“Shit querida. You all right?” Angel was quick to be by your side. Pulling your hair back and rubbing your back soothingly as you continued to vomit into the kitchen sink. You didn’t know if you were sick because of your pregnancy or if it was the gut punch Angel just gave you with dropping such news on you out of nowhere.

After a couple minutes, you were feeling slightly better.

“Here.” Angel hands you a bottle of water as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Thank you.” you whisper taking a swig of water and sloshing it in your mouth before spitting it in into the sink. “Sorry.”  you tell him finally looking up at him.

“You okay?” he asks and you could hear and see the concern

You just nod your head, making your way back out to the living room; Angel following right behind you. The both of you sit in silence for what felt like eternity, fidgeting with your hands in your lap, unsure of what to say.

“The baby isn’t even mine.” you hear Angel barely whisper, your head shooting up when you realize he was crying again.

“Angel, I’m...” you tried but Angel shaking his head stops you from continuing.

He aggressively wiped the tears from his face as he sniffled. “Don’t apologize, querida. This is my karma for all the shit I have done and all the pain I have caused.”

“Angel, no one deserves to lose a child.”

“Here I was the fucking idiot that I am, hopeful that something in this fucked up life of mine was actually going right. Getting a life I thought I lost the day you walked out that door. As fucking scared as I was at the thought of fucking everything up, this was something I wanted.” he was now up pacing the room once again, tears streaming down his face as he went on. You sat there watching him, as you did your best to hold your tears at bay, allowing him to release all that pent up emotion.

“Only for it all to be ripped away from me in a blink of an eye. All just to fuck over the MC and get intel on Galindo. Used me as one of her fucking puppets.” he huffed as he finally took a seat, head in his hands as he tried to compose himself.

You just sat there taking everything Angel had just told you in. That explains why he hadn’t been answering your calls the last couple months. Your heart ached for how hurt and shattered Angel was, but a part of you couldn’t help but be selfishly relieved that he wasn’t having a child with Adelita.

“The entire time I couldn’t help but wish that she was you, and you were the one carrying our child. Guess that’s all just a far fetch dream now.”

“Angel...” you tried.

“No, querida. The night you decided to walk out, I was furious at you, I really was. Then I realized that it was my entire fault. I was the one that pushed you away. I made a promise to you that no matter what, you would always come first and I put the MC, the Rebels, even the fuckin cartel before you. All this shit is on me. Everything. Before I could get control of all that was going on, everything just exploded in my face. I didn’t want this for us, and for that I am really sorry, querida.”

Without saying a word you got up and went and walked over to your bag you knew was sitting on the dining table, pulling out that piece of paper you have been carrying around for the past few weeks. Angel sat there, brows furrowed, as he watched you move around the small space.

“I’ve been practicing how I was going to tell you and this wasn’t how it played out in my head, but you need to know.” you tell him as the tears begin to stream down your face.

You look down at the piece of paper in your hands before placing it on top of the coffee table in front of Angel.

He looks at it and then back up to you, finally looking back at the paper, picking it up.

You turned your back to Angel as you tried to control your emotions, unsure how he was going to react to this news.

“Are you being serious [y/n]?” you hear Angel whisper behind you. You just chuckle as you wipe the tears from your face.

���[y/n], is this real?” Angel asks again.

You nod your head, sniffling, and turn to look up at Angel as he slowly approaches you.

“A baby?” he asks

“Yeah.” you whisper giving him a small smile.

“A baby?” Angel repeats again with a smile and a look of pure admiration.

“Our baby, Angel.” you tell him with a small chuckle

Angel sniffles as he cups your face in his hands, “Our baby” he whispers and you just smile up at him, hand softly cupping his face, thumb wiping the tears from his cheek.

Angel places a kiss to your forehead, his hand on the back of your head pulling you into him. He places another kiss to the side of your head as you wrap your arms around his middle, resting your head on his chest.

“Our baby.” you softly chuckle as you hear Angel repeating the words again.

Angel pulls away slightly, with his thumb and index finger he lifts your chin so you were looking up at him, “Imma do it right this time, I promise you querida. I know I have a lot of making up to do and I will go to the end of the earth for you. This is my all. You and our baby is all I need.” he tells you.

“We still have a lot to work on, but I know we can get through this together. As long as I have you by my side from here on out, that’s all that matters to me. I love you, Angel.” you pull him down to you and softly place a kiss to his lips.

“I love you, mi dulce.” he gives you a smile.

From that day forward, Angel was there every step of the way. Sure there were bumps along the way, but you and Angel always managed to work through them, making your relationship that much stronger.

And the day your little princess was born, changed yours and Angel’s life for the better. Bringing new beginnings and new hopes.

--xx

Taglist: (Let me know if you would like to be added/taken off)

@sesamepancakes​​​​

@yourwonkywriter​​​​

@mijop​​

@mayans-sauce​​​​

@encounterthepast​​​​

@queenbeered​​​​

@chibsytelford​​

@alienstardust​

[impalementation]

spike, angel, buffy & romanticism: part 3

part 1: “When you kiss me I want to die”: Angel and the high school seasons

part 2: “Love isn’t brains, children”: Enter Spike as the id

* 

“Something effulgent”: Season five and the construction of Spike the romantic

Prior to becoming a romantic interest, Spike is everything I discussed in the last section. He is an id and a mirror for Buffy, he’s prone to both romantic exaggeration and cutting realism, and his liminality suggests ambiguity. But outside of “Lovers Walk”, the writing doesn’t actually delve too deeply into Spike’s nature as a romantic. If you stopped the canon at “Restless”, you’d probably think that Spike’s love for Drusilla was intriguing, but that the show hadn’t really gone anywhere with the implications of it, and for all you knew, that might not be an important part of his character anymore. So one of the most interesting things about season five to me, is that in this season in which the writers first consciously, deliberately decide to explore the sexual and romantic tension between Spike and Buffy, they also emphasize Spike’s romanticism more than ever. The choice to define Spike by his romanticism is a choice that follows naturally from everything established about his character, but it was also not an inevitable choice. Therefore, it’s a choice worth looking at in some detail.

Consider everything that “Fool For Love” establishes about Spike, especially the things that contradict what was supposedly canon at the time. It makes Drusilla his sire instead of Angel, meaning that he is sired by a romantic connection, and as a direct result of heartbreak. It makes him a poet living in the middle of the Victorian era, an age at odds with his previous ages of “barely 200” and “126”. Meaning that the writing specifically decides to ignore its canon in order to associate him with an era in which passions would have been repressed (rather than the Romantic era of the early 1800’s or the modern energy of the early 1900’s). Moreover, the episode reveals his entire aesthetic and personality to essentially be a construct. But most tellingly of all, it reveals him to be an idealist. Spike is not just a performance artist; he yearns for the “effulgent”, for something “glowing and glistening” that the “vulgarians” of the world don’t understand. In other words, he yearns for something bigger and more beautiful than life: something romantic. Later, he chases after “death, glory, and sod all else.” Spike may be a “fool for love”, who has a romantic view of romantic love specifically, but the episode is very clear about the fact that he is also a romantic more generally. When Drusilla turns him, she doesn’t tempt him by telling him she’ll love him forever. She tempts him by offering him “something…effulgent”. (Which, in typical Spike form, the episode immediately undercuts by having him say “ow” instead of swooning romantically). The fact that “Fool For Love”, Spike’s major backstory episode, is so determined to paint him as a romantic--and in particular, a disappointed, frustrated romantic--that it is willing to contradict canon to do so, tells you that this choice was important for framing Spike and his new, ongoing thematic role.

I’ve talked in the past about how season five is all about the tension between the mythical and the mortal--between big, grand, sweeping narratives, and the reality of being human. Buffy is the Slayer, but she’s also just a girl who loses her mother. Dawn is the key, but she’s also just a confused and hormonal fourteen-year-old. Willow is a powerful witch, but she also just wants her girlfriend to be okay. Glory is a god, but she’s also a human man named Ben, and finds herself increasingly weakened by his emotions. And Spike embodies this tension perfectly. He’s a soulless vampire with a lifetime of bloodshed behind him, but he’s also this silly, human man who wants to love and be loved. He wants big, grand things, but every time they are frustrated by a Victorian society, a rejection, a chip, a pratfall, or dying with an “ow”. Furthermore, his season five storyline is all about the tension between loving in an exalted, yet often selfish way, versus loving in a “real” or selfless way. 

There was a fascinating piece a ways back that discussed how Spike’s attempts to woo Buffy in season five almost perfectly match the romantic narratives of Courtly Love. In the words of the author:

The term "Courtly Love" is used to describe a certain kind of relationship common in romantic medieval literature. The Knight/Lover finds himself desperately and piteously enamored of a divinely beautiful but unobtainable woman. After a period of distressed introspection, he offers himself as her faithful servant and goes forth to perform brave deeds in her honor. His desire to impress her and to be found worthy of her gradually transforms and ennobles him; his sufferings -- inner turmoil, doubts as to the lady's care of him, as well as physical travails -- ultimately lends him wisdom, patience, and virtue and his acts themselves worldly renown.

You can see for yourself how well that description fits Spike’s arc. He fixates on the torturous, abject nature of his love, and has it in his head that he can perform deeds and demonstrate virtue, and this will prove to Buffy that he is worthy of her. But despite Spike’s gradual ennobling over the course of the season, I think it would be a mistake to see the season as using the Courtly Love narrative uncritically, or even just ironically. The same way it would be a mistake to see season two as using the Gothic uncritically. Spike is as much Don Quixote as he is Lancelot. He is a character that deliberately tries to act out romantic tropes, giving the writing an opportunity to satirize those tropes, including the tropes of chivalric romance. In particular, the writing criticizes Spike’s (very chivalric) fixation on love as a personal agony, something that is more about pain--and specifically, his pain--than building a real relationship. Over and over in season five, he is forced to abandon these sorts of flattering romantic mindsets in favor of a more complicated reality. 

So at first, Spike’s “deeds” tend to be shallow and vaguely transactional. He tries to help Buffy in “Checkpoint” even though she doesn’t want it (and insults her when she doesn’t appreciate it), he asks “what the hell does it take?” when Buffy is unimpressed by him not feeding on “bleeding disaster victims” in “Triangle”, he rants bitterly at a mannequin when Buffy fails to be grateful to him for taking her to Riley in “Into the Woods”, and he is angry and confused when Buffy is unmoved by his offer to stake Drusilla in “Crush”. While these attempts to symbolically reject his evilness are startling for a soulless vampire, and although Spike certainly feels like he is fundamentally altering himself for Buffy’s sake, none of it is based on understanding or supporting Buffy in a way that she would actually find substantial. Moreover, he lashes out when his gestures fail to win her attention or affection. He has an idea in his head of how their romantic scenes should play out, and reacts petulantly when reality fails to live up to it. 

But these incidents of self-interested narrativizing are also continuously contrasted with scenes in which Spike reacts with real generosity, or is surprised when he realizes he’s touched something emotionally genuine. When Buffy seeks him out in “Checkpoint”, his mannerisms instantly change when he realizes she actually needs real help (“You��re the only one strong enough to protect them”), rather than the performed help he offered at the beginning of the episode. At the end of “Fool For Love” he’s struck dumb by Buffy’s grief, and his antagonistic posturing all evening melts away. He abandons his romantic vision of their erotic, life-and-death rivalry in favor of real, awkward emotional intimacy. In “Forever” he tries to anonymously leave flowers for Joyce, and reacts angrily when he’s denied—but this time not because he wanted something from Buffy. Simply because he wanted to do something meaningful. 

This contradictory behavior comes to a head in “Intervention”, the episode in which Spike finally begins to understand the difference between real and transactional generosity. Up until that point, Spike has been reacting both selfishly and unselfishly, but he hasn’t been able to truly distinguish between them, which is why he keeps repeating the same mistakes. Although he touches something real at the end of “Fool For Love”, for instance, he goes on to rifle through Buffy’s intimates in the very next episode. And so “Intervention” has Spike go to extremes of fakeness and reality. He gives up on having the real Buffy, and seeks out an artificial substitute that lets him live out his cheesiest romance novel scripts. It’s important that the Buffybot isn’t just a sexbot, even if he does have sex with her. She’s a bot he plays out romantic scenarios with the way he played them with Harmony in “Crush”, allowing him to almost literally live within a fiction. But then he “gives up” on having Buffy in a way that’s actually real, by offering up his life. He lets himself be tortured, and potentially killed, for no other reason than that to do otherwise would cause Buffy pain. The focus is on her pain, not his. For the first time, he acts like the Knight he’s been trying to be all along. He performs a grand, heroic deed that causes the object of his affection to see him in a different light, and even grant him a kiss. Yet ironically, as part of learning the difference between real and fake, he ceases to press for Buffy’s reciprocation. Through the end of season five, Spike continues to act the selfless Knight, assisting Buffy in her heroism without asking for anything in return. Which culminates in his declaration that he knows Buffy “will never love him”, even after he’s promised her the deed of protecting Dawn, and even though she allows a kind of intimacy by letting him back in her house. He proves that he sees those gestures for what they are, rather than in a transactional light. The irony of the way Spike fulfills the narrative of chivalric romance, is that his ennobling involves letting aspects of that narrative go. 

In a Courtly Love narrative, the object of the Knight’s affection is fundamentally pedestalized. The Knight himself might be flawed, but the woman he pines after is not. She is “divinely beautiful” and “unobtainable”, something above him and almost more than human. This is why it’s so comic that in Don Quixote, which was a direct satire of chivalric romance, Alonso Quixano’s “lady love” is a vulgar peasant farmgirl who has no idea who he is. (Think of the way Spike asks if Buffy is tough in “School Hard” or threatens to “take her apart” despite “how brilliant she is” in “The Initiative”, followed by scenes where Buffy is acting like the teenage girl she is. Or how Giles in “Checkpoint” says that Buffy has “acquired a remarkable focus” before cutting to Buffy yawning.). Although it’s true that Buffy is beautiful, and supernatural, and profoundly moral, she is also very human, and the writing is very concerned with that humanity. Season five in particular, as I’ve mentioned, is preoccupied with the duality of Buffy’s mythic and mortal nature. Thus it becomes significant that Buffy is assigned such a heightened role in Spike’s chivalric narrative. Just Spike is at once Lancelot and Don Quixote, Buffy is at once Achilles, Dulcinea, and a coming-of-age protagonist. 

And part of the “lesson” of Spike’s arc is for him to see both sides of the roles they embody. One of my favorite things about the scene in Buffy’s house in “The Gift” is how adroitly it conveys the dualities of both Buffy and Spike with simple, but poetic imagery and language. Buffy stands above Spike on her steps, conveying her elevated role, and Spike honors the way her heroic status has inspired him by physically looking up to her as he explains that he expects nothing from her. But by expecting nothing from her, and promising to protect her sister, he also honors the fact that she is a real person with no obligation to him, and a younger sister she cares about more than anything. He also honors his own duality by at once making Knightly promises, and acknowledging that he sees through his former delusions: “I know that I’m a monster, but you treat me like a man.” In “Fool For Love” he tried to acknowledge the same duality of realism and romance, by declaring to Cecily that “I know I’m a bad poet, but I’m a good man.” But at the time, he was an innocent, whose desire to be seen, and whose romantic avoidance of “dark, ugly things”, left him unprepared to understand how Cecily really saw him (similar to Spike’s insistence in “Crush” that what he and Buffy have “isn’t pretty, but it’s real” just before Buffy locks him out). Spike is a character defined simultaneously by continuous disillusionment and dogged aspiration, which is why he makes perfect sense as a character to embody a season torn between the pain of being human, and the wonder of the gift of love.

Fittingly, the season ends with Spike’s most devastating loss of innocence of all. He fails to be the hero for Buffy or Dawn (note that Knightly language he uses on the tower: “I made a promise to a lady”), and he loses the woman he loves. He may have become more virtuous, but unlike in a chivalric romance, that virtue wins him neither Buffy, nor something flattering like “world reknown.” The climax of the “The Gift” is full of romance—a god, a troll hammer, a damsel on a tower, a heroic self-sacrifice, a vampire transformed into a Knight—but the end result is that Buffy is dead, in part because he wasn’t good enough, and all that he and the Scoobies can do is grieve. Stories got Spike nothing, even when reality finally lived up to them. It is a swan song to the myths of childhood, and on the other side of Glory’s portal, Spike and the other characters will have to confront a world where those myths have been left behind.

part 4: “But I can’t fool myself. Or Spike, for some reason.”: Buffy and Spike as a blended self

[peeterparkr]

invisible string;tom holland.

summary:  life has a way of pulling you and Tom close to each other, then it pulls you apart. 

 “It is like an invisible red cord or thread which connects you to that one person you’re destined to meet, your true love.” 

soulmate au

word count: 6.4k

pairing: tom holland x reader

warnings: breakup mention, fluff, angst. fluffy angst. 

LOOK I TRIED TO WRITE FLUFF BUT I’M NOT GOOD AT IT SO ANGST CAME BUT I TRIED BUT I HOPE YOU LIKE IT

heavily inspired by folklore and evermore by taylor

thanks @jambrosemc for helping me you’re amazing

So, this is for one of my best friends here, @badhollandfluff, Delaney I’m sorry this took so long but I wanted it to be perfect for you, surprise!!! I’m your secret Santa! Love you, hope you had an amazing Christmas and I wish you a happy new year, I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. 

Thanks to everyone who joined, happy holidays!! 

No one ever has time. We’re always running and rushing and trying to save a little, it’s always like we have it counted and we never truly realize time is passing by. The clock keeps ticking. You were a victim of that, sometimes, always running, never knowing why. Time always going faster than you wanted it to be. 

Until it stopped, it had stopped since last year. 

There you were now. A white mug. These days you don’t really see that. Everyone has the paper cups with the coffee collar. Their names scribbled on black that probably still smells like sharpie. But you were holding a white mug, that now was just slightly stained by your pink lipstick. 

The mug was stained inside too, with the leftover foam of your capuchino. You were letting it set cold, watching as the people would walk in. Waiting. 

You trailed your gaze around the room, there are some couples around you.

You liked the idea of this café, with people gathering around just for the simple fact of drinking a hot coffee out of a mug. You like to come here, to sit out your thoughts, sometimes you’ll find some time to work, read. But you’d be alone. You’ve been lonely lately. 

It didn’t matter, it’s fair to point that out. But today, you were going to meet him. Again. 

But you didn’t know that yet. 

You had once read about soul connections, interested if you’d ever find your own, seemed like most people around had met them. You hadn't. Not the one you were longing to find, that is. 

Bizarre. 

Honestly, you didn’t believe in them. Or you liked to say that to yourself, sad enough to admit you hadn’t found any type of strong connection. 

Or maybe you had. 

But it made absolutely remotely no sense, at all. 

How could you? There was absolutely no scientific proof that there were soulmates, and though everyone said you could feel them, that you’d sense it, and though the extinguished sadness on your friends could be proof enough, you were still sceptic. Maybe just doubting if you’d find yours. Or maybe you didn’t want to accept who was yours. 

Because Tom had left. 

Your friends had assured you that when they’d found it the world had turned idyllic, a pink life. 

Yeah, it had felt like that when you’d found Tom, but now everything was gray. 

However, you knew more about them than anyone else. You had researched about them, you had read about them and you were so informed that you sometimes didn’t even believe it. 

Though you liked to ignore that sometimes there was a song stuck in your head without reason or there was a sudden joy, that had no possible explanation. 

“It’s your soulmate,” someone would point out. 

It wasn’t, it’s just Tom’s favorite song. 

There was also a sense of pain, sometimes you didn’t understand why you felt such a heartbreak, how bad had they hurt them? If they did exist, that is. 

They didn’t, though. 

You’d read about that heart connection, that feelings connect trying to understand how it comes and goes.  

There are three types of connections. Karmic partnership, soulmates and twin flames. Different types of connections. 

First ones, karmic partnership, and it is as bad as it sounds. They’re often confused as soulmates and people like to cling to them. They’re… awful,  being the one heartache that is there to teach a lesson, the one person that is there to show you something about yourself, the one person who is strictly there for character development, let’s say. The one person you fall in love with and keep falling in love, but it’s not love,  no matter how many times they hurt each other they go back. It’s not love, though. Or maybe it is, but there reason they exist is strictly to make you reason. It becomes….Cyclic. Until you finally decide to break the cycle. Intense transformation, the one person that makes you see yourself from a different perspective and change. There is, however, no compatibility. 

Probably what you had with Tom. But… no, it wasn’t… There was too much compatibility. 

You’ve had your fair share of them, maybe you’ve had 

Then there are the soulmates. The perfect compatibility. 

The one connection that is beautiful, a person that you just… feel it. The one person you feel like you’ve waited for them your whole life. Strong compatibility, there are more than one soulmate, that is to say, it could be friends, it could be family. It doesn’t have to be a romantic partner. There are soulmates that you wonder how they can be such an incredible connection. 

Everyone has soulmates. You knew you’d met some of them, the friends one that is. None of them a connection strong enough to be your partner. Not that you didn’t want to, though. 

Or maybe you didn’t want to acknowledge it. 

You’ve read somewhere in the internet that there are connections that go beyond your wildest imagination. Go beyond soulmates. The… twin flames, the one your soul is so attached to, you can feel their pain, their joy. 

Journeys end when lovers meet. 

It’s fair to say, you’ve never believed in that information. Less after a heartbreak. 

You had a million thoughts over your head, oozing you with stress and feeding your not long enough sleep schedule. You were slightly angry, you’d say. You didn’t like him anymore. 

There are two kinds of people when it comes to liking someone. The ones who go forward it, fighting for it, hinting on it. Flirting as if there was no tomorrow. People like Tom. 

And then there’s people who run away from feelings and try to pretend to act natural around their crushes. People who definitely don’t want to overstep boundaries and are afraid of ruining friendships. People like you. 

But there was nothing to ruin now, was there? 

Because there’s also people who give up. People like him. And people who never dare to forget. People like you. 

It was never even. 

But you keep daydreaming about him and can’t help that tinge of red spreading across your cheekbones every time he was near you. You shouldn’t have given in. You should’ve fought, but you were reckless. A sunrise dropping by again, and you wondered what had gone wrong.

Tom wanted to talk, you didn’t. You loved him, he didn’t love you. 

Tom was gone. For good.

An unstoppable force meets an immovable object. 

It’s the kind of love that you’d probably want to avoid. You at least, avoided all kinds. After him, who’d want to love anyone else? He was the only one who could tell if you dared to smile with your eyes only. 

How stupid were you to believe he was your soulmate. 

But no, this wasn’t right. Because feelings make everything blurry and it’s something not exact. If it wasn’t for science and numbers you didn’t like to believe anything.  If you don’t know how it’ll turn out then you’ll probably avoid it. And when it comes to relationships, you never truly know. Or sometimes you do, but it’s usually... not pretty. You’d learned that with him. 

Relationships end, and while you don’t want them to. You’ve sensed it, from the beginning. And you just hope that they’ll remember you in a nice way. Did he? Or had he just passed the page. 

You still felt stuck in a chapter. He had stopped reading. So hard to be on different books now. 

But with him, He was an exception. He was pushy and wasn’t giving up at the beginning until he did. You had seen him fall out of love, and that’s the worst kind of thing you get to face, when you see them slowly trailing far from you. 

Plans? Dreams? The willow tree in that park when you had first kissed was still crying over your breakup. Your head had been low since you’d last kissed him. Had you known it was your last, you’d probably would’ve made it last longer, you would’ve held him for more time. You wouldn’t have let him leave. 

But you had had your moment with him. It had been the last time you saw him. The one moment when you realized that his  fake smile was just that, how convenient and cliche. But you didn’t want to give you in, just yet. No, you wouldn’t. He’d changed, and you didn’t like who he was now. Too changed, too built up, too busy, too whatever you could come up with. 

You got tired of begging, and then he was easy to forget, you hadn’t forgotten. Just two years ago you thought he’d made a decision, you had made it. You wanted to spend the rest of your life with him. But he didn’t. And you couldn’t stop him, he was growing and growing and simply he escaped from your touch. 

Then it had been a goodbye, and nobody had seen it coming. You had, you’d known it for a long time. And it was weird, you were so in love with him that you knew that it was the best for you both, to get away because though you loved him, you knew he wouldn’t be happy with you. It’s difficult to let go of what makes you happy. 

You remembered it, how both of you would only smile at each other, like damn strangers, say a few hellos, and a fews how’s the weather, as if you hadn’t spent countless nights in between the sheets, as if you hadn’t danced in the middle of the night, as if you hadn’t given him each of the stars in the night sky, as if you hadn’t shared enough drinks together. Or as if you hadn’t fought for your love. You with that red jacket of his. How every path led to him. How every stupid weekend belonged to him, but now you wished they’d pass by sooner. 

Maybe that’s why you were always rushing, so you wouldn’t feel it. You didn’t like the weekends anymore. 

And now, she looked at him the way you were supposed to look at him. At first, it had hurt just a little, you hadn’t believed it. You knew it, everybody wanted to love him, but nobody knew what it felt, the crushing feeling that was loving him. How much it hurt, to watch him paddling with a precious smile, and those pair of angelic eyes, so pure and then turn into a devil just for you. 

Nobody knew how it felt. Anticipating a heartbreak every time he walked in, and to pretend that you didn’t feel that anymore. 

Last time only you thought you’d give him your heart, and he had pushed you away because his heart belonged to someone else. Then it was forbidden, to think about him, to dream about him, to still smell his scent on your pillows. It wasn’t right. 

How could his heart ever belong to someone else but you? 

And you had to smile, to say you were happy for him. Because you were, and that new girl was a fool because anyone who dares to fall for him is a fool, tangled in between lies. She who dares to love him is willing to have her heart crushed by him. And who but a fool is willing to let your heart be crushed by him. 

Last time you’d seen him had been a friday night, 10pm on that one pub he liked going to. You had gone out with your friends, and he was there, with her against his shoulder, her with the long hair and the perfect smile, perfect laugh. 

To think that had been your place once. You had avoided his gaze, ignored he was there. Pretending he hadn’t seen you. But he had. Pretending you hadn’t seen him. But you had. 

Someone had said there is life after love, but there is not love after him. It’s like you’d thrown everything to the fire, and he had watched it burn. Everyone said it: you’ll be happy. 

When? 

Sure, it’d come, eventually. But it had been a year. 

You’d heard he had broken up with her, a while ago. Then it was that hope again, probably why you were recurring to that café. 

It’s funny to think you’ll love someone forever, and then it just… disappears. Every promise eventually breaks, every kiss eventually fades, and love is eventually gone.

Then why wasn’t it? 

Time was your biggest enemy. 

Your story with him, from the moment you’d first seen him, he was just—perfect, you thought about it, how everyone said it was your soulmate. And you believed it. From the moment you’d met him, you had finally believed in soulmates, because it made sense. How your story had been built up to him, and how many times of sudden joy had you had before meeting him because of how close you were. 

Life had been so reckless. You were supposed to meet him several times before you actually met. It was stupid to think, how you were always thinking about it, now that you were apart. 

The first time you’d ever crossed paths had been when you had been very, very young. You didn’t know he had been there, not aware, at a park. And there had been this sudden joy. You remembered feeling it, you’d said it, felt a spark. 

Just children unaware of a flame burning too deep inside of you. 

That other time, at the supermarket when both of you had gone with each other’s mothers and both of you had been playing with the toys. 

You’d never forgotten that one very time, first time your hands ever touched, and it had felt like electricity. Two kids very confused by that spark, when both of them had reached to that one toy, confused. 

Or that one time at the café when he had walked in, you were sure he had walked in, you’d felt it, how your heart had started to beat so fast,  but before you could even glance at him he had walked out. Lost in the crowds, always. 

How both of you had had a broken heart at the same time. First kiss had been almost at the same time, just blocks away, actually. 

Or how you’d both been at that one party, but didn’t know about it. It made no sense how life had been so desperate to get you together but both your surroundings pulled you away. That night had been so close, both dancing behind each other, singing on top of your lungs to the same stupid song. 

Or that one time when someone had pointed him to you when you were at that one pub, “look, that guy is cute.” 

You had looked at him, he was. Shy smiles had only been directed in each other’s direction. 

You’d later learned he’d sent you a drink but the waiter had mistaken the table. 

That one time when you had run out of cash at that sandwich place because their card machine had stopped working, you were rushing, and you were missing only cents, and Tom had come to your rescue. 

Or how he worked near you and his dad had been friends with your mom at some point. How his favorite song was the same as yours, and how often you’d be at the same park, him on his phone, you reading a book. 

How you’d once met his dog that had run over to you. A dog that would learn to love you and did miss you from time to time. 

How Tom had randomly found that one book you’d lost at the park once, under that willow tree and he’d read it. Loved it and then lost it again at that same park, with a random paper note that read: “Jerry’s 8pm, wine.” he’d used as a book separator. 

Who was Jerry? What would happen at 8pm? Wine? What type? Red? Rose? White? Why were you so intrigued by that note? 

You’d kept it to this day. Still didn’t know what it was. You knew Jerry now, though, he was a friend.  And now you knew that he liked wine but preferred beer. 

You’d given him a pretty book separator. He still had kept it to this day, never used it, he always used random notes or napkins or whatever he found. At first it stressed you, how many book separators did you not have and he’d use napkins or those fortune papers that come with fortune cookies. So you had transformed into a better habit, you would write notes so he’d used them. You’d order chinese food more often, too. 

He said he’d always remember that, your little notes, the way you always stained your cup of coffee with lipstick, your two left feet when you danced, or the fact that your laugh would be heard across a room. He’d always recognize your laugh. 

What a Whimsical thing love is when it’s not the right time. 

How many times have you not felt like there was something missing? Until he appeared, at that one park near the cafe where you are sitting right now. The first time you’d ever officially met. Nothing out of a book, something very casual. Both of you at that café, it had been crowded that one day and the only chair available was the one in front of you. 

“I’m sorry, hello,” he had said, making you look up from your book. “May—I sit here?” He asked. “There’s no other chair left in the room and—“

“Yeah, yeah, hi, you can sit,” you had said, without really looking at him, but the moment you had, the moment your eyes had met his, you had…. felt like the whole surrounding had disappeared and you were the only people in the room, it seemed he had also noticed something.

A cold november evening, both of you had a reason to go home yet neither of you had  gone home. Both of you had found a way to that café, with coffees in a mug. The leaves falling outside.

He had sat right in front of you, you couldn’t help but blush when noticing he was attractive, very attractive. But there was something else about him, maybe it had been the way he couldn’t sit still. He had stared at you, and smiled. 

From the very first time you’d ever seen his smile, you knew three things,

His smile was the prettiest thing you’d ever laid your eyes on

His smile was so familiar 

His smile would eventually break your heart.

The third one wasn’t as cheerful but you could tell, he was one of those guys who could easily break someone’s heart in a blink. 

It didn’t take him a blink to break yours. You’d need a lifetime to break his. 

“I’m Tom.” 

“Y/N.” 

Both of you liked to debate over who’d talk to who first, it didn’t matter honestly. You both remembered how both of you had ordered the same drink, a cappuccino. Neither of you liked it, but apparently both of you had wanted to ask for something new. 

You’d always do that. Taste new drinks. 

And it had been… as if you’d met before. You had, multiple times before, but neither one knew, of course. Not at that point, but like you were meant to find him. The sun had gone down and it had been hours and hours of you talking to each other, like old friends who knew their deepest secrets and were catching up, laughs becoming one melody, and both of you had soon realized the cafe hadn’t been that crowded. Maybe it had been the damn destiny pulling you together. To that cafe near the park with that willow tree. 

He had asked questions you didn’t have the answers to back then. You did now. 

Before you knew it, you were walking with a stranger through the London night, seeing people walk by and not looking at them, because somehow you’d both walked to that one park. Both of you had discovered you both liked to sit on that one bench near the willow tree. How many times had you missed the other jusy by a matter of minutes. 

“You’re kidding, I love this place, I’m always here,” he had said. 

“I am, too, weird we’d never met before,” you had chuckled. 

You honestly didn’t remember how or why it had happened. A kiss. You’d kissed a stranger who didn’t feel like a stranger at all. 

“I’m sorry, I-” He had started. 

“No, it’s--” 

And then kissed again. Your stomach had dropped and had been replaced with butterflies. How had a simple cappuccino led to this? 

He’d given you a smile and a promise. You’d met him the next day, and the other one, and the next one. With that stupid smile of his. 

You missed that smile, or how he flirted with you, make you giggle with a stupid joke, or how he’d open his arms to you and kiss you, tumbling down to the couch. The way he’d make you listen to him ramble about his latest discovery. How he always found a way to make you smile in the crowds, always holding your hand, new dates in different places.

“What do you mean you’ve never gone paintball?” 

Weekends only for him, going for breakfast, for dinner, for lunch, for tea, for this, for that. . Then it was the weeknights too, always finding time for you, traditions you created and that you got rid off. Laying down on the grass, looking at stars, kissing in bars, dancing in his living room, your head on his shoulder in movie theatres, his scent on your pillow, his favorite movies next to your dvd, your perfume in his closet and your toothbrush in his bathroom. Notes he’d written to remember things all around your place. Birthdays, new year, parties. 

Endless nights of laugh, of wine and of nothing at all. Kissing. Video Games you didn’t understand, failed attempts to bake, watching sport games he loved and you… tolerated. Him finally agreeing to watch that movie with Ryan Gosling. 

“Why Ryan Gosling?” 

Building plans together, nights of both of you debating on something stupid. Singing on top of your lungs without knowing the lyrics. Getting lost together, that one roadtrip where neither of you knew the way and ended up at that one hotel in the middle of the road. Kissing. Learning to read every emotion, and being each other’s blankets. Hearing each other’s ugly laughs, and crying in front of the other. Being each other’s confort. Hugging him when you were scared at the movie. Meeting the parents. 

“They loved you, don't worry.” 

Always holding each other’s hands.  Fights under the rain. Making up hours later and cuddling to let go of it. Being friends with each other’s friends. Seeing friends getting engaged, going to the weddings. Talking about a wedding. Learning, becoming their best selves. 

Then…. Cold. 

He’d left you when you had been the most in love with him. When you thought he’d shows up with a ring. But he had said goodbye instead. With his picture on your phone and your hand cold with no one to hold. He’d changed your life, completely. 

You’d learned so, so, so much. And at some point you…. Realized it. 

You should’ve known, he was not your soulmate. 

You’d read somewhere about twin flames. Yeah… you had, about the one soul that changes your life. 

You’d learned about the importance of the sunrise and the sunset, how beautiful both of them are, and how dizzy you can get when you get to see both because you didn’t get to sleep because you had laughed and kissed all night. 

They say time is wise, yet you still were hurting and you still loved him. Because it was like his love was a thread still engraved to your own very soul. And though when you were with him it was timeless, you’d learned to give more minutes to the hours you were with him so you spend just a little bit more time staring into his eyes. How you’d learned about the importance of one’s sight, and how the eyes are the doors to the soul, he’d opened his soul completely to yours. And it was so beautiful and so easy to read. 

You’d learned a lot of things, like how to throw pebbles in the ‘right way’ to the river. You’d learned how to lie to your friends so you could go see him, late at night when the moon is the only light shining above yours. You’d learned that mistakes aren’t the end of the world and that you actually are very good at baseball. 

Tom had shown you how to distinguish between a guitar and a bass, not sure why you’d always confused them. And that it’s okay to sometimes leave the clothes on the floor if you’re rushing to get somewhere. Or that sometimes the clothes end up on the floor because you’re both… rushing. That it’s okay to have breakfast for dinner and that you can have dessert before the actual main course. He’d also taught you that facetime isn’t as good as being together but it’s enough to listen to each other’s voice. He had shown you that it’s okay to laugh at sex and that sometimes it’s not as romantic as it should be, that sometimes it is silly and other times it’s passionate. That it’s okay sometimes to say what you want to say before thinking. 

And you’d shown him how to enjoy a bad movie, or how to tie his shoes this other way, and that though the night kept changing, and you both kept growing and learning, you were still the same. You taught him that it’s okay not to know the lyrics and still sing the song, and that if you add a pinch of salt to the cookies you’re baking it’d make it sweeter. 

You’d taught him that Chinese legend. The red thread. 

“It is like an invisible red cord or thread which connects you to that one person you’re destined to meet, your true love,” you had told him. “In China it’s around your ankle, I believe… In Japan, male’s thumb and the female's little fingers, and in Korea are both little fingers.” 

He’d once, jokingly but not really wrapped around both of your pinkies a red thread. 

“I made it visible, see?” He had said. 

“You’re an idiot,” you had chuckled. 

“What happens if you’re apart?” He had wondered. 

“It’s supposed to bring you back together, it…” 

“Can I pull it, if I ever need you?” 

“I guess,” you chuckled. “I’m not sure.” 

“Can it break?” He asked. 

“I… don’t know,” you had confessed with fear.

Because you didn’t know. Maybe yours had been broken. 

But you kept teaching him things, and he kept teaching you other things. You’d also taught him not to never mistake salt for sugar to add to your tea. 

“They’re both a white powder I thought-” 

“Yeah I can think of more white powders that would’ve also gotten us in trouble.” 

You’d taught him that as long as you were his and he was yours, you’d shine as bright as stars. He’d shown you how to say ‘I love you’ to someone for the first time. Because you had, when you least had expected it, just about a weeks after you’d first dated. 

You wanted to order something for dinner, that one night, he was on his laptop ordering food,  you were cuddled against him reading who knows what. 

“Is it weird I want more fortune cookies? Would you be weirded out if someone was asking for more fortune cookies?” He had asked. 

You chuckled. “To get more fortune?” 

“To get more cookies, darling,” he had grinned. “Can’t be more fortunate than this, I am dating you, ain’t I?” 

“Very fortunate” you chuckled as he was ordering. 

“How much food would I have to order for them to send us like ten cookies?” He asked, mostly to himself. 

You laughed, “why don’t you bake them yourself?” 

“We both know we suck at baking, baby,” he reminded you as he kept adding food to the cart. “Besides we wouldn’t get the fortune paper thing, I like those as book separators.” 

He did use them as book separators and liked to randomly leave them on your nightstand  

“Why do you want them? We could buy them next week at the supermarket 

“They’re so good, darling and it’s not the same, they’re not fate then.” 

You only smiled, watching him. 

“Why don’t they sell like… the cookies?” He asked again. 

“They do—“

“No, not but like at the restaurants because they choose which ones to give you, that is fate,”  he continued. “Or like… Okay is this enough food so they think we are like ten  people here? Like if I order enough food they’ll send it to us, right?” He kept rambling to himself. “Like okay, we’d have to eat this for a while but baby look at the bright side we’d have more cookies and that would make me happy because I like the cookies, plus I wouldn’t steal your notes to use as a book separator and we could have like enough fortune things to… I don’t know wrap presents with.” 

And it had come out, so easily, “I love you,” you’d said without thinking about it, interrupting his rambling. You’d felt it for long enough, first time you’d ever kissed him  but somehow you’d never said it. 

And he had stopped worrying for the cookies suddenly, as he only looked at you, he hadn’t been prepared. He had only opened his mouth with surprise. He wasn’t as hungry anymore. 

“I--” he hadn’t said it back. 

“No, I’m sorry, no, no I’m sorry,” you gulped and sat up to get away. “No I didn’t--No, I don’t… I mean, no, yeah I do, I’m… Look you don’t have to… say it…I don’t love—No, I do, I do—“

He had smiled and took a deep breath, with surprise. 

You walked away. “No, baby, sorry—Tom, I’m sorry you don’t have to say anything I’ll just—Yeah.” 

You had tried to walk away but he had tackled you from behind, and turned you around to kiss you in his very way.  “I love you, too.” 

And the food had eventually arrived after kissing for god knows how long and you remembered opening that one fortune cookie. 

“Love, because is the only true adventure.” 

And it had been. The greatest adventure of your life, and it hadn’t been one of those crazy adventures. It had been small, but great. Good enough He’d forgotten one thing, he’d never shown you how to get over him. How to live without him. 

And you had said it, how it would never be too late for him to come back. He wouldn’t, you know. But he knew it, you’d always have each other. 

You had read about twin flames. How the compatibility and energy is so strong, so, so strong, so meant to be.  An intense soul connection, sometimes called a "mirror soul," thought to be a person's other half.  A same soul. And at times it did feel like it. 

But it doesn’t have to be forever. 

It should’ve been, though. 

But Tom was easily scared, and maybe he’d felt like his life with you would be forever, and you didn’t blame him for being scared. Finding the love of your life doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll have to spend your whole life with them. 

“I’m always going to love you,” he had said. You knew he wouldn’t. 

But he’d never leave your heart or your mind, no matter what, day, noon, midnight. He was always there, but he had moved on. Or had he, really? 

He hadn’t. But both of you had a very different version of the relationship. He had waited for you at that willow tree, you’d waited for him at that café. And it had been like that for a while, both of you waiting at the wrong place, at the wrong time. 

He did miss you, very, very much and he also couldn’t get over you. You didn’t know, but even when he was dating this other girl he kept going back to you. He had kept his promise, he would always love you. With every cell, with every bone on his body. With his entire soul, because it felt like it was missing its other half. 

He had stopped burning when he was apart from you. No light, no nothing.

Because everything led back to you, everything was about you. And he had bumped into you several more times, you hadn’t seen him, but he’d seen you walking in the rain, and he’d seen you when he stared at himself in the mirror. He saw you in every fortune cookie he ate, or in every book separator he found. He had felt incomplete when he wasn’t with you. 

And after you’d broken up, Tom had felt incredibly numb and sad, your pain combined with his. He’d always wondered why that happened how he knew how you were feeling, a hunch he’d say. 

He’d always have a song stuck in his head, and he’d be thinking of you at the most random times. He’d always expect to find your lipstick stain on his mugs 

He always wanted to call, he never did though. But he was there, even if you didn’t notice. Like how he’d randomly send you a coffee with your friends, asking them not to tell you it came from him, or how if he ever walked by your place, he’d clean the dust from the mailbox because he knew how much you hated when it got dirty. How he had become friends with that guy from the Chinese place you liked to order from and he’d told him to always give you extra fortune cookies.

Tom wasn’t the same when he was apart from you, he hadn’t slept, he hadn’t smiled. But he did see one bright thing because it felt like he was being pulled back to you. 

He regretted breaking up because he’d been too scared to admit you were on the other side of the string. He feared it could break. But he was also scared that he would become the person he was before you, and how you probably wouldn’t like who he was before that. 

He also didn’t believe in soulmates, until you came. Because he thought And he thought your connection was too strong to be a simple soulmate. His soul and yours were one. 

But he’d left because he had to learn the last lesson, the one lesson you couldn’t technically teach him, and that lesson could only be taught by missing you. And damn, did he miss you. 

Because no one was you, no one knew his smile like you did and no one could read him like you. Your perfume still lingered and he missed your toothbrush in his bathroom. He missed having to get your hair out of his face when you were asleep. He missed the way you’d leave your books around his house or the way that he heard you sing the wrong lyrics. Tom missed the way you’d kiss his temple when you woke up earlier than him and how you always covered him with blankets. Tom missed looking into your eyes and making you laugh by making a stupid joke, knowing you’d be the only one laughing. 

He missed having you around at parties, when all of his friends were talking about things he didn’t like and he looked for you to give you that one knowing look but you weren’t there. He missed you when he got drunk, he missed you when you he woke up, when he wanted to run to you and kiss your cheek from behind. When he wanted to watch a bad movie and laugh at it, he’d miss you all the time. 

Tom was gone, yes. But Tom was gone because he wasn’t with you, and he couldn’t be himself again. How could he after you? 

Was there life after love? 

And eventually he’d seen you, always running into you but not letting you see him because he knew it would hurt you, it hurt him too. But how many times had his shoulder not bumped into yours without you noticing because your head was low. Or how many times had he not heard your laugh across the room and seen you. You were everywhere. 

And he didn’t know why he couldn’t get the courage like that one first time when he’d first asked to sit with you, that one time when he’d first kissed you. No other pair of lips deserved to be kissed after he had kissed you. 

And life was pulling him back to you but he didn’t know if you’d take him. He was scared that you had moved on, but something told him you couldn’t. He somehow knew that you still loved him because he loved you too. 

So he’d sit there, under that willow tree waiting for you to come back. But he was always running out of time, always having elsewhere to be. Because no one ever has time. 

You did, too, always rushing and that’s why you never saw him. Until today, with that mug in your hands, watching people, couples. Soulmates. And there you were, at that cafe, waiting for him to come, near that one park with the willow tree where you’d first kissed. 

Wishing he would come. 

But life is a strange thing, and maybe it had been the fact that the foam on your cappuccino had spoken to you, or the fact that you’d still kept that one fortune paper on the back of your phone, hidden underneath the case, or the fact that you had almost poured salt into your coffee instead of sugar, or maybe it had been  that thread around your finger or maybe a coincidence by itself, but somehow you’d left that café that day, willing to go to that willow tree for the first time.

Because no one ever truly has time, but he had pulled the string. 

tagging some other people who might like this: tag list   @spidxrparkxr​ @mukesnugget @anxiousdesignerdancerbandlover​ @happywolves81   @happywolves81 @applenter @silver-winter-wolf    @applenter @claredolphinbear24​ @bookgirlunicorn​   @tomshufflepuff @avengersgirllorianna​ @nevertoofarfromivar @saintlavrents​ @herofiennestiffinashardinscott.  @tomzfrog @dark-infernal-instruments​ @awkwardfangirl2014 @spideysimpossiblegirl  @tomzfrog  @xapham @awkwardfangirl2014​ @xapham @tomhollandisagod @xapham​ @laurfangirl424 @vintageroses1014516 @cinnamon-roll-peter​   @the-lost-fairy-tale @the-lost-fairy-tale @lala-florez​ @lala-florez​    @ilcveyou3000 @xxtomxo @socorroann​ @muffinmari25   @cassindeansass  @rogers-obsessed-barnes-curious​ @southsidespideyy @southsidespideyy​ @nathaliabakes​ @nathaliabakes​ @embrace-themagic @embrace-themagic​ @sanniegirl1214 @sanniegirl1214​  @softholand @fairytaleparker @underooling​ @griff1ndor @griff1ndor @thatweirdomimic​ @avengersgirllorianna​ @reginalaufeyson-holmes @better-daisy @yeahimcrying @allmonstersxarehuman @spider-manholland @better-daisy​ @itstaskeen @georiaang @sebxstianbarnes @kissingtrutharchives  @snoopy3000 @prettymessygurl @spideyparkerstark @fanfic-4-you @lexshead @officiallyunofficialperson​ @mannien @whitewolfandthefox​ @melodiclovesong @bizzlepotter​ @bizzlepotter​  @localfangirlx @acceptance07 @witchythingscore @witchythingscore @swaggyspiderman @localfangirlx​  @queengemsworld @liberty0123 @stiles-banshees @itsjusttor @stretchkingblog97 @annathesillyfriend @itsjusttor​ @tomshufflepuff @thewayilookatbacon @petersdiaries @emjaywrites @emjaywrites @thewayilookatbacon​ @jungeunave @emjaywrites​ @ispiderdudei @ispiderdudei @literalfsngirltrash @quacksonhq​ @it-is-rebel-owl-ma-dudes​ @desir-ae @desir-ae​ @desir-ae​ @peterporkpie @peterporkpie​ @smolpeachees @thenoddingbunny-blog @quackeroos @quackeroos​ @spideyyeet @astoldbydanid @astoldbydanid @hollandcreep @hollandcreep @astoldbydanid​ @hollandcreep @rebekkah4766 @farfromtommy  @rubberducky-jrr @oh-whatabeautiful-parker​ @coveredinthemessimade​  @shameless-self-promo-of-a-shrub @sweetiesangster​ @thatdamjoke​ @annathesillyfriend @annathesillyfriend​ @witchythingscore​ @witchythingscore @bookworm06  @bookworm06  @lala-florez @lala-florez @chaoticpete @bookworm06​ @peeterparkr @chaoticpete @shezzalocked​ @cosmichollands-blog @frenchfrostpudding @badbitchydecisions @w4ybefor3nir4na jj @saintlavrents @americaswritings @ilovepeterparker13 @lukesbabylon @lukesbabylon @iamaunicorn4704 @simple-things @simple-things @sip-portteam  @herondale-snow-carstairs @tony-starks-ego @quaksonhehe0 @stargazerholland @marvelslut-musicalnerd @hotrubycrab @sovereignparker @peter-parker-tony-stank-trash @belleknows @mysticalinsomniac @nycparkers @nycparkers @anythingthaticareabout @spn-assemble-seven @tanyalooovesyou @somethingchaotic  @heartofholland @peachybloomss @youcompletemesk @emyla3305 @emyla3305–butt  @hollandstanevans @farfromtommy @farfromtommy @southbeachfeeling @eridanuswave @tonguetiedholland @wolvesofthewinter @quacksonobrien @dcnerd98 @ifntelyinspirit @electraheart-3174 @julialucena5 @itsmilamawson @harryssuckz @harryssuckz @xstarbae @xstarbae @xstarbae @peterbparkerrwrites   @averyfosterthoughts @darethedragonknights  @hannahholland1811 @justanamesstuff @emyla3305 @abbiefangirls247 @onewithnomightypowers @itscaminow @youllbmineandillbeyoursbabelove @hotrubycrab  @spidey-holland-96 @awkwardnesshabitat @geminiparkers@primadonnasdream @slytherinambitious @maybecharming @where-art-thau-romeo @viagracex @viagracex @sspidermanss @pcterparxer @whatevshollandarchive @aleyabee @aleyabee @lovewolfspirit @viagracex  @xallyouneedislovexx @panicattheeverywherekid  @pcterparxer @thehauntingofmymind @redhoodparker @redhoodparker @cakepopcriss @allthisfortommy @aleyabee @perspectiveparker @let-me-luve-you @xxpeachyxo @m-a-r-i-n-t-p @superstarchick @notjustpenandpaper @morbiddanvers @runaway3 @runaway3 @runaway3  @lu-morningstar @th0ttie4tommy @riasaurusrex @riasaurusrex @frustratingpaperclip @readheadwriter @geesquariid @noxceleste @noxceleste   @peterparker-rickybowen-mybabies @witchything @peterporkpie @bookworm06 @panicattheeverywherekid @imthefloor @ohmyquackson @seaveyheartful @wangtan-boys @obiwanownsmyass @sadisticfries @not-some-docile-teenager @galaxystern08 @lovemarvelousfics @tomzfrog @calsthomas @thearchersupremacy @nikitajackson @dayazenn @the-fandom-life-forever @just-kickin-ass @quaksonhehe @dummiesshort @samaratheweirdo @fr3akingphantrash @i-love-superhero @mandeeleebeebee @captainamirica @dramaticdiva @halparkebitch @uglypastels​ 

[unnecessarywriting]

Tolerate It (Part 2) - Harry Potter x Reader

A/N: So this is a little long, like 3x as long as part 1, but you know things happen! I hope you all like it and thank you for the love on part 1. Warning, it is a little angsty, but it gets fluffy at the end. Remember to send in requests!! Enjoy!

ALSO Italics are flashbacks!!!!

Part 1

Tolerate It (Part 2)

~ Your Morning ~

The night was spent with shots of firewhiskey and tears. There was nothing that could really prepare you for the feeling in your chest. Your body was convulsing from the sheer torment you had put it through. Luckily, you had someone who was there for you, but it didn’t make the pain ache any less.

When you woke up in the morning, your head ached from the alcohol and the crying. Your face was puffy from crying relentlessly, and your throat was sore from the inevitable coughing that comes with an intense session of tears and wails. Even your lungs were tired from all of the hyperventilating. You grabbed the shirt on your body pulling it to your nose, but much to your surprise you weren’t too familiar with the scent. That was when you acknowledged that your friend let you sleep in hers. When was the last time that you weren't wearing Harry’s shirts? These thoughts needed to leave you. You deserved to move on and be celebrated for everything that you are.

You made breakfast for your friend, and now roommate. She thanked you and complimented your cooking skills. It felt foreign to feel recognized for something so mundane. She offered to clean up, which you graciously accepted. You changed into some of her clothes so that you could go to work. You had managed to take half the day off, but the distraction from, well, let’s just refer to him as he-who-shall-not-be-named. Ironic right? Our hell has been killed, and yet a new one arises in his place. I would never have thought that he would become mine. 

All throughout your shift, you tried to keep your focus on work. “Be productive” became your mantra. Eventually, however, your time at work came to a close, and you knew that you had to get your things. You apparated and appeared in front of your old front door. Cautiously, you opened it. You knew he would be at work, but a small piece of you hoped that he would be moping around, waiting for your return. When you found nothing but silence, you couldn’t tell if you were relieved or disappointed. 

You knew how much time you had to gather everything you owned, but you didn’t want to risk him coming home and finding you, so you rushed. With everything packed up, you took a look around. The place looked quite empty. When you two had moved in, a lot of the decorating was your own doing. You wanted it to feel warm and inviting, despite who you had felt living there. Now, it looked like how the place felt. Your eyes glanced into the kitchen and you saw the dishes, piled high in the sink. Of course, he probably thought that you would come back and have them done. You scoffed and grabbed your things. When you arrived at your new place, you took everything you could and put it into your room. Emotionally, you were drained, so when you felt your eyes closing, you knew that your day had ended. 

~ Harry’s Morning ~

After you left, Harry stayed at the table. He pushed the food around his plate until his stomach warned him to finally eat. He was lost in his angry thoughts. Who were you to accuse him of such stupidity. He loved you, and he knew that he made it clear to you all of the time. You were just being obnoxious and clingy. You would get over it and all would return to normal. That night, he piled the dishes into the sink and walked into his study. He scribbled a letter to Ginny, where he explained how you walked out on him, and how you accused him of such atrocious behavior. Afterwards, he went to bed, feeling slightly colder than normal. 

The following morning, he was greeted by a chill. He looked over and saw your side of the bed unslept in. Of course you didn’t return in the middle of the night. He walked out into the kitchen expecting to see you there, but he was greeted with silence. The room smelt of the dinner you cooked the night before. He rolled his eyes to himself, and began to make breakfast. As he placed the bacon on the pan, the scent brought him back to one morning at Grimmauld Place.

“Harry!” You exclaimed as Harry hugged you. “I’m trying to cook. Leave me be!” You giggled.

“But I can help. I used to cook all the time for the Dursley’s. Then we can be done quicker and spend more time together.” His smile was so bright, and his tone remained mischievous. 

“Precisely Harry. You don’t have to be a slave anymore. Let me do this for you.” You turned around in his embrace after flipping the bacon. “Besides, after we are done with school, I’m gonna cook breakfast for you every morning just to show you how much I love you.” As you finished that sentence, you booped his nose and turned back to your cooking. Harry just smiled into the crook of your neck, fantasizing about his life with you.

After you finally managed to kick him out of the kitchen, he caught sight of his godfather, who offered a knowing smile.

“You know Harry, she’s a keeper.” Harry nodded in response, and turned around to watch you work.

“She sure is Sirius.”

You had kept your word. Every morning that you were together, you cooked breakfast for him. He ate in silence, like he did while he was with you, except this time, it felt different, almost eerie. He piled the rest of the dishes into the sink and finished getting ready for work. He wasn’t missing any of his shirts. That was unusual. He apparated to his job, trying not to think too much. 

“Hey mate.You look awfully tired today.” Ron was too joyful for his taste.

“Didn’t sleep well.” Was all he said. 

By lunch time, Ron had figured out that something was wrong. He had seen his friend when he was tired. Something was bothering him, and his irritable behavior was starting to piss him off.

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong, or are you gonna continue acting like a prat?” Ron always had a way of getting the truth out of him.

“Y/N left last night.” Harry huffed.

“Whatever happened, I’m sure she’ll be back. She loves you.”

“Loved seems more accurate. She said I've been neglecting her.” As Harry spoke, it seemed like he became angrier with every word. “She accused me of not loving her or appreciating her, and then she walked out.”

“Harry, is it possible that she was right? Those feelings don’t just come out of nowhere. I mean the other night at Mum’s, you didn’t really look pleased to have her around. Maybe you should go and talk to her.” Ron thought he was being reasonable with his words. He wanted to side with his friend, but he was worried about you. You had been friends at school, and after the war, you had stopped talking to him and Hermione. He hadn’t seen you a lot recently, and he couldn’t but be concerned with you behavior the other night. You used to be bright and bubbly.

“All I’m saying Harry, is that Ron is reasonable about his fear of spiders, although you can be a bit of a scaredy cat,” you joked while nudging Ron. 

“Y/N I am not. Any fear I have is reasonable. Plus you didn’t see how big those spiders were. Plus I was 12. Even Fang was scared.”

“Yeah, and Fang is a scaredy cat too. Ask Hagrid. Now,” you jumped up from your spot and grabbed his fork, “admit that you’re a scaredy cat, and I’ll give you back your fork.”

“This isn’t funny. I’m very brave. I’m in Gryffindor.” You started to wander away from the table, giggles spilling from your lips. “Y/N, please c’mon. I’m hungry. Oh, fine! I’m a scaredy cat, okay? Terrified of giant spiders. Is that what you wanted? Now give me my fork back.” By the end, he was yelling in the great hall, and you were laughing uncontrollably at his desperate confession. You handed him his fork and continued to giggle.

“Brave sure, but you are pretty dumb Ron. There was another fork right there,” you said pointing to where he was sitting a moment before. Harry and Hermione just facepalmed at their friends’ shenanigans.

Your silent behavior was unlike you, and he knew there was something going on, but he didn’t get the chance to ask you about it. Harry left the conversation, frustrated with his friend, and he returned to his job. He needed to get his mind off of what you said the night before. 

On his return home, he half expected you to be back, waiting for him to come home so you could talk through things. He was met with a cold emptiness. Your things were gone. He rushed into your bedroom, and saw that half of the room was bare. There wasn’t an ounce of you left to grasp onto. He realized that you weren’t just in a fight. You were gone, and it was all his fault. He put his head down on what used to be your pillow. Your perfume was light, but the slightest whiff let him feel you. He hadn’t felt you in so long. You’ve always been there, but he wasn’t close enough to you to get the scent. You were right. He had been neglecting you. His tears began to fall as he held onto the only bit of you he had left.

“Look at what I bought! This is going to be perfect Harry.”

“Darling, you’ve done too much.”

“How dare you? This is so very important. When people come over, they need to be welcomed. They need to be in awe over how amazing I am at decorating. This is our place Harry! It needs to be perfect.” He was aware of how serious you were which made him smile to himself. You could be a lot to handle sometimes, but that’s what he loved about you.

“As long as you’re here with me, it will be perfect.” He nuzzled into you and breathed in the beautiful scent you omitted. You really were perfect.

Are perfect. You are perfect, and he just let you walk out the door. Worse than that, he allowed you to think less of yourself. He’s been through a lot of heartbreak and pain, but this was worse. Hell, he even died, but this was worse. He stayed in bed the rest of the night. He couldn’t bring himself to eat. Eventually, he fell asleep.

~ Your Response ~

You were doing better than you expected. You weren’t happy by any means, in fact you still cried yourself to sleep, but you were better. You worked your regular schedule, and you really put everything you could into your work. Your roommate was great, although you knew she would be. You two were friends. You still hadn’t fully unpacked yet. It felt as if you did, it would really be over, and you weren’t ready to let go just yet.

One morning, you felt that you needed to go out and do something productive. So, you went to Diagon Alley. You owe yourself a little shopping spree, and maybe you would get a gift for your roommate to thank her for allowing you to move in on such short notice. You had made your way through different stores. You found yourself outside a bookstore. You smiled at it, but it felt bittersweet.

“Is there a reason we need more books? C’mon dear, you aren’t Hermione. You don’t need to compete for who has more books. We barely have space for them.” Harry never understood why you wanted to buy all of these books.

“There is a very good reason Harry. I just haven’t told you yet.” You continued looking through the shelves, trying to find a book that jumped out at you and told you that it was a must read. 

“What do I have to do to find out?” He was watching you in awe.

“Find a book you want, and I mean really want. I don’t want you just picking up some random book. And then, I’ll be ready to tell you.” He took the challenge and began looking for the book. After about twenty minutes, he returned back to you, book in hand. You looked at it and smiled at him.

“So, why are we buying these?” You laughed and walked to the counter to check out.

“I said I would be ready to tell you. I never said that I would.” Harry playfully rolled his eyes and followed after you.

You never did get to tell him your reasoning for buying all of those books. A shame really, but now that you two aren’t together, they don’t mean anything. You sighed and walked to get some ice cream.

“Y/N?” You turned in the direction of the voice. A part of you wanted to just leave her standing there, but you knew that she would be persistent.

“How can I help you Ginny?” You tried to sound polite, but you were bitter.

“How are you? Harry told me about your fight.” Of course he told her.

“I’m fine. Now if you don’t mind, I was gonna get some ice cream and get home.” Except, it wasn’t home to you.

“Well, I was gonna get some ice cream too, so let’s get some together. It’s my treat.” You didn’t want to eat with her, but free ice cream was not something you were about to pass up. You nodded your head in response. You both ordered your ice cream, and took a seat outside. 

“I heard Harry’s side, but I think he left some things out. I was talking to Ron, and he said that you looked like you were going through something before your fight. We’re all worried about you two. I know that I may have overstepped a little bit, and I’m sorry, but you two are perfect for each other. I don’t think that I can handle being what came between you two.” You scoffed. She wasn’t at fault. Sure she was a part of why you were mad, but it wasn’t her fault that Harry stopped loving you.

“Listen Ginny, I don’t want you to feel like this is your fault, because it isn’t. Harry stopped caring about me a long time ago, and I finally realized it. I gave him everything, and he brushed me off. He was just dealing with me being there. I left because I deserve to be happy. I may not be there yet, but I can’t go back to be treated like a maid.” She seemed to understand. The two of you talked a little longer about how you were, her life, and her family. Eventually, you parted ways. You felt a little better knowing that she didn’t find you selfish or crazy. 

That night, you two didn’t cry yourself to sleep. You were still sad, but there were no more tears.

You were awoken to a familiar owl at your window. You grabbed the letter and opened it.

 Dear Y/N,

I know you hate me, but I think we should talk. There are things I need to say, but mostly, 

I need to apologize. In person. Please come back. Tonight, 7:30.

Love,

Harry

~ Harry’s Response ~

Harry was miserable. His days at work were unproductive. Ron was concerned, but he didn’t know what to do. He had never seen his best friend this distraught. He was beginning to look like Sirius did when he escaped from Azkaban. Harry would come home and whimper at the lack of you in his home. It used to be your home. The place was a mess. If you had seen it, you would probably scold him for being so irresponsible. 

It was a Saturday. He had nothing to do but sit around at home. He walked into his study, and found the pile of books in the closet. You complained that he had the study to himself, so you stole the closet from him claiming that you deserved it. He complied. Since you left, he hadn’t opened it. He was terrified of what it could possibly be, but his hand continued to the knob. Inside were all of your books. You kept buying more whenever you two would make your way to Diagon Alley. He never found out why you bought them, but he still wondered. He opened a few of them, and recognized your handwriting in the margins. They mostly consisted of your reactions to things that you read, or even just cute doodles that matched the story. 

He held a couple of them to his chest as he thought of you. He didn’t know how long he was sitting there. He was only interrupted by the call of his name. He reluctantly got up and looked for the owner of the voice.

‘Blimey Harry. You’ve destroyed this place.” Ron was there. Of course. Ginny stood beside him, looking disappointed.

“Harry, we need to talk about Y/N. You’ve been insufferable without her, and she’s struggling too,” Ginny stated. 

“How do you know how she’s doing?” Harry was really worried. 

“Ginny met with her today at Diagon Alley. Harry, when was the last time you cleaned at all? This place  is absolutely disgusting.” Ron winced at the sight of the kitchen.

“Harry, I’m gonna cut right down to it. You need to talk to her. You are killing yourself over your mistakes, and she is struggling to deal with how you treated her. Merlin, Harry, how could you let her down. Did you know that she really believes that you stopped loving her? The damage you’ve caused is almost irreversible, but I think you both need to talk. If not to sort things out, then to give you both closure.” Ginny had a point.

“I don’t even know how to talk to her. I don’t want her to see me like this either.”

“Mate, we don’t want to see you like this either, but we can fix that,” Ron exclaimed.

“She said that she is living with a Y/F/N.” Harry’s eyes lit up. He knew where that was.

“Harry, you are going to shower, and we are gonna start cleaning up this,” he motioned to the room, “and then you are gonna tell her to meet you here tomorrow night. It’s the least you could do,” Ron finished with a hopeful look. Harry nodded and retreated to the bathroom.

~ Together at Last ~

You were nervous to say the least, but you gathered yourself and apparated to the place you once called home. You knocked on the door. It felt foriegn, but you didn’t feel like you could just enter a place you no longer lived. You heard rustling from behind the door, and what you thought was a curse. Then the door opened, and you saw a slightly disheveled Harry smiling awkwardly at you. You returned the smile but stayed where you were standing.

‘Oh, come in.” He moved out of the way and closed the door after you. There was a smell in the house that you could only describe as burnt food.

“I’m sorry, I was trying to cook for you, but I think I lost that ability, and well, it’s not entirely edible. I ordered a pizza a little while ago. It should be here any minute.” Almost as if on cue, there was another knock at the door. He rushed to get it, while you stood observing the place. It was clean, but it looked dark and empty. 

You both walked over to the table where he placed the pizza. You sat down cautiously and eyed all of his clumsy motions. He was reminding you of how he was in school. Completely unaware of how to act in front of a woman. It was kind of funny, but you couldn’t bring yourself to smile. When he sat down, he looked up at you with a nervous glint in his eyes.

“I guess I should start by apologizing. I have a lot to say, so I ask that you allow me to speak this time. First of all, I am an idiot for so many reasons. The things I said to you that night were cruel and unreasonable, and I cannot put in words how sorry I am. You were right. I have no excuse for the way I treated you. I’ve been thinking, a lot actually, about us. I need you to know that I have never stopped loving you.”

“Harry-” you began.

“Let me finish please. You are the greatest thing to ever happen to me, and losing you broke me. I need you in my life, not as a caretaker, but as my equal. I need you by my side because you make life so much better. I don’t know what happened, but as cliché as it sounds, I realized just how much I need you and love you after you left. I know you waited so long for me, and I did nothing but push you aside. I’m promising you now, if you take me back, and you come home to me, then I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I will show you everyday how much I love you more than anything. So please darling, come home.” His eyes were glossing, and you could tell that he was being honest. It’s been a long time since you’ve seen him this vulnerable.

“Harry, I hoped everyday that you would stop being cold, and would turn to me and confess just how much you love me. It never happened. I want to be with you because I love you, but I can’t help but be scared that you will resort back to your old ways. I don’t think I can take being someone that is underappreciated and unloved. I need time.” You were being honest with him. You couldn’t afford to push your feelings aside anymore. 

“Will you take me back? I want to start fresh, but I want you here.” His desperation was clear.

“Okay, but I need things to be slow for a while. I don’t trust you, but I love you.” He jumped up from his seat and walked over to you. His arms wrapped around your body. It had been so long since you were in his arms. Your scent made him sigh in relief, while his warmth let you relax into the embrace. This is what you had waited for. It had been so long, but it had been worth it. 

The following day, you both had taken the day off from work to move you back in and spend quality time together. You had stayed the night wrapped up in his arms. It was the best night of sleep either of you had gotten in far too long. You wrote to your roommate that morning telling her that you were moving out, but you promised to pay your part of the rent until she found a new roommate. She understood and was happy that you figured things out with the love of your life. 

You woke up before Harry, as per usual, and walked into the kitchen to start making breakfast. When Harry woke up, he was worried because you were no longer in bed beside him. He got up and walked into the kitchen to see you over by the stove. He smiled and found himself behind you, his arms on your waist. 

“Good morning love,” he said, sleep still heavy in his face. You smirked and kept cooking.

“You know, I would cook for you, but-” he started.

“But, you would burn down the place, and quite frankly, I don’t have any faith in your cooking abilities. Plus, I promised you breakfast every morning while we are together. I don’t like to break my promises.” You felt his smile grow in your neck.

The rest of the day consisted of Harry being glued to your hip. He missed you so much, and he didn’t want to spend any time away from you. After you had moved all of your things back into your home, you collapsed onto the couch from exhaustion. Harry sat next to you and wrapped his arms around your body. 

“Can I ask you a question?” You smiled at him.

“You just did, but go ahead,” you joked.

“The books in the closet. Why do we have so many of them?”

“Oh those? Well, I wanted to have something to give to our future children. Something I could share just between us. I know it’s kinda dumb, but I’d like to think that our kids would like to have that bond. Maybe even make it into a family tradition that they bring to their kids.” You said this with a slight blush forming.

“I think it’s brilliant. Remind me that we need to get some more.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, our children should have some from both of us, don’t you think?” You laughed and nuzzled closer into his body.

“I love you so much Y/N and don’t ever let me forget it.” He placed a kiss on the top of your head, and tightened his hold on your body. He would never let you go again. 

[causalgelato1993445]

Drunken Snaps & Unrequited love

Chapter two

pairing: felix x reader, with a hint of chan

word count: 1,376 

warnings: mentions of alcohol abuse and fighting

group: skz

The morning is fresh, and rich with the smell of earthy autumn leaves. A cool breeze drifts through the holes in my cream sweater, and on any other day, I'd exhale with a smile and thank the universe for a cool day to break the cycle of endless heat. Today, however, I'm holding in that breath. My body is tense and stiff. I’ve dreaded this Monday morning and its consequences for two days.

As I slide into the seat of my car, I open snapchat, and read over the messages to which I still haven't responded. Part of me feels guilty, and rightfully so. Felix does not deserve to be left on open. However the situation is tricky, and I fear saying the wrong thing. 

Last Friday, I made a big mistake.

Before Christopher arrived, Felix Lee and I were best friends. We grew up together, experienced middle school alongside one another. We giggled together when Mrs. Miller would mispronounce words, or when Peter DeWitt would run down the halls screaming profanities. The beauty of public school was the friends i’d made, and the heartbreaks, and the fights and make ups. And all the while the smaller blonde remained by my side, faithfully, as if it were his only responsibility.

It never occurred to me why…

Felix is a straight A student. He does his community service at the local animal shelter to play with all the “lonely dogs”. He’s on the swim team, and swimming has given him a beautiful physique, but the boy only wears baggy sweaters and hoodies. He is trustworthy and patient, and anyone would be lucky to have him. And yet, he chose me.

In another life, if I'd never met Christopher, I might have loved felix.

When Chris moved here, and started school our freshman year, Felix grew distant. He hung around less, came over less, and began cancelling plans. He snarled his nose when I would speak of chris. He would act annoyed when I would lose myself in thoughts of him. And now, I understand.

The smell of sweat, and ungodly amounts of Victoria's secret perfume hits me like a brick as I walk through the doors. I’m eyeing my surroundings, turning every corner with caution so I don't run into Felix unintentionally. Of course, I plan on confronting him eventually, but for now, avoiding him seems to be the most promising option. The homeroom bell has not rung yet, so i opt for a quick stop by my locker. It would benefit my stressed out mind not to have 30 extra pounds of weight on my back.

But my heart stops when I see him standing at my locker. Why him, why now. 

“uh...Chris. What’s up?”

He’s leaning against my locker, arms crossed with a friendly smile. 

“Oh, hey, I was waiting for you!” He speaks in his thick aussie accent. I do my best not to melt into a puddle.

“Yea, I noticed. What can I help you with?” I ask. It’s too early for this.

“Actually, (y/n) was it? I need some help with something, and I was told you could help. Do you know Clara?” He asks. I flinch at the name. And suddenly i realize, she was the blonde girl with the flowers.

“You mean Clara Casteel? Yeah, Why?”

“Well,” he reaches a hand up to scratch the back of his neck. “I was hoping you would talk to her for me.”

“uhhh...Clara and I haven't talked since 5th grade. You know we aren’t-”

“I know I know, the big fight, your parents, the drinking. You aren’t friends with her anymore. But why would that stop you from at least trying?” He persists. I stare at him in confusion. Why would he push me to talk to her if he knew what had happened. And who told him that I would?

“I...i’m gonna get to class.” I mutter, brows furrowed.

The lunch bell rings, and I’m awoken from my class nap. Nobody seems to have suspected anything. I rise from my seat slowly and stretch out my stiff limbs. Something catches my eye. A tiny ghost notification. My heart beats a little faster and I curse at myself for being so afraid. 

I open up a snap, and as I suspected, it’s felix. This time, without thinking i open it to reveal all four messages. 

“(y/n)? Did you get my snap?”

“Am I bothering you?”

“When can I see you?” and finally

“(y/n) i’m sitting in the far left corner at the empty table. Please come sit with me.”

I sigh, collecting my things and trudging to the lunchroom. When I arrive, marissa waves me over, but my eyes instinctively drift to the far left corner. And there he is. In front of him is a single chocolate muffin and a ceramic travel mug of tea. He’s sporting an oversized blue knit sweater and a pair of ripped jeans, his platinum locks tousled from the outdoor wind. He must have walked to starbucks for lunch. 

The boy has his slim legs crossed at the calves, and he’s giggling at something on his phone. I almost want to go sit with him. I start to turn to head towards marissa’s table, when i see felix pop his head up. He immediately looks at me, and breaks out in a grin. Suddenly, the boy waves me over, pulling a small Starbucks bag up from the seat next to him. Que the guilt.

Against my better judgement I start to walk over, and he’s practically buzzing with excitement. When I reach the table, the boy is at his peak of happiness. 

“Oh, (y/n) for a second i thought you wouldn’t show, but i’m so glad you did. I saw you finally opened my snaps, you must not have gotten them until today.” he rambles. I crack a smile. 

“Yeah, I got them. Is that for me?” I smirk. He grins, and he resembles the sun.

“Oh, yeah! It's a lemon pound cake. I know it’s your favorite.” he bounces it off his seat as he hands it to me. It’s a little crumbled. I chuckle.

The blonde stares down bashfully as I take a bite of it, pulling his small hands into the holes of his sleeves. For a minute I can see the sheer infatuation in his eyes. He’s so genuine, and full of life. He deserves to have someone, he deserves to be loved on. But I just don’t want to push him further away than I already had.

“You know,” he mumbles, “I almost questioned if that snap was even for me. But why else would you have talked to me at hyunjin’s party?” I frown, resting my chin on my palm. “Anyway, I'm glad you did. I’ve loved you since 6th grade. I felt so bad for you after what happened with Clara. I thought you were still hung up on chris.”

“Well…” I begin “we’ll see what happens.” I gave a weak smile, taking another bite of the treat. 

“Can I take you out this weekend? Well, I mean...you’ll have to drive us, but dinner is on me.” he smiles bashfully. 

Before I have the opportunity to answer, the bell rings yet again. We stand, and Felix does a small stretch. He waddles over to me with his arms outstretched, and embraces me around my waist. He has a look of joy on his face, almost as if he were a child holding a puppy. 

As the lunchroom grows empty, the boy looks at me in the eyes for the first time with red cheeks. Platinum bangs falling into his eyes. 

“(y/n), i missed you. Please don’t forget about me this time.” he whispers. The room is silent as we stand alone in the far left corner of the lunch room. I brush the hair away from his face and he wrinkles his nose. 

“I’ll pick you up at 5:00 on friday” I whisper to him, letting go of his small body and exiting through the metal doors. 

Outside the art room, Clara Casteel giggles, twirling her hair as Chris smiles his lopsided smile. Our eyes meet as I pass by.

[caxsthetic]

Be Fine

Miya Osamu x F!Reader

Hurtful Truth: Some things would always haunt us, no matter how many times we tried to run away. 

Pt. 1 ⇚ Part 2 ⇛ Pt. 3 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *. GRAND MASTERLIST .* :☆ﾟ. ───

He never knew heartbreak.

For almost thirty years of his life, Miya Osamu never knew how it feels to have his heart shattered into a million little pieces.

Since he was sixteen, he had a lover that always took care of him. He had you, someone who devoted all of your life for him, even abandoning your own dream to make sure that you could always be there by his side in a matter of seconds.

There was no one as loyal as you, the woman who got a lot of people standing in line just to get some attention from. Osamu didn’t have to be worried that someday you would leave him, he didn’t have to ask who you were with for every few minutes. Because he knew damn well — that you would turn down everyone who showed you even a glimpse of interest.

So he kept coming back to the moment he knocked on your brother’s apartment all those months ago. He kept replaying how his hand touched the brunette’s cheek, how his lips captured the unfamiliar plump lips, how he got in bed with someone else that was not you.

What worse from that, was the fact he kept coming back to the same new routine.

He didn’t particularly know when his feelings for you started to vanish into the thin air. There was just no spark anymore when he kissed you, no fiery flame that he usually felt when he pushed you to the bed and devoured you for the rest of the night. Something that used to fulfil his mind and soul satisfaction, became just a physical necessity.

The sound of vegetables being cut was the only thing that rang on his eardrum as he got lost in his mind all over again. Even though he was not alone, he knew better not to make a conversation with his company. His twins, Miya Atsumu.

Ever since he broke it off with you, his twin never stopped pestering him and guilt-tripped him for every chance that he could get. Right now, he even could feel how the brown orbs that belonged to the setter currently sending daggers at the back of his head.

“Don’t you think you are rushing it?” Atsumu finally cut the silence. He actually never once wanted to intervene or poke his nose on his brother’s life. “Didn’t you just start to fuck Sunarin around ten months ago?” But this, this was something that he couldn’t let go as it was.

Because it involved you, you and your very much fragile heart.

Osamu knew too well about how much the setter cared for you. Sometimes he would even think how much better you would be if you fell in love with the blonde instead of him. Atsumu was the one with immense passions, the successful volleyball’s player that had the attention of the whole nation — even beyond.

Yet for all of those years that went by, he was the one who got your heart. And by any chance, he felt like he was winning, at least he was winning something in this life for having a woman that his twin once wanted to have too.

“It’s none of your business.”

He answered with such a curt voice, focusing on the meal that he prepared for his fiancé. Rintarou was away for a week, and he wanted to do something for the love of his life. Yeah, the love of his life. He kept telling himself that, about how if he didn’t really love the brunette he would never cheat on you anyway, so he was pretty sure that his feelings right now were real.

Osamu realised how his relationship with the EJP Raijin’s middle blocker would turn out. Too fast as they just want to reach the finish line, to secure a goal, a real win. Not even one thinking about how you felt as you can only zip your mouth while standing on the sideline.

He thought that the silence that ensued after his response was enough. That maybe today he could just think about his fiancé with peace. Without you that still managed to slip yourself inside his head, without his twin letting out an opinion about how stupid he was for wasting your life.

But when he heard the stool knocked to the ground behind him, he knew that his nightmare would never end.

“For fuck sake you just dumped (Y/n) four months ago and now you are going to wed her brother?!” Atsumu was seething, stomping on the hardwood floor of his twin’s new apartment with a hand carding his own hair in frustration. “You are disgusting.” The setter even spits to the ground, but Osamu didn’t mind it at all.

Because he deserved every insult and hatred that he got.

Atsumu scoffed and grabbed his car keys from the kitchen island when his twin didn’t turn his back to face him. The nausea that he felt when he was around the businessman was sickening, that at this point he wanted nothing but strangle the life off the body of his doppelganger.

It did not come though, another slander or any kind of physical abuse from the setter. The black-haired man just stirred the miso soup that he prepared, numbing his heart and soul, once again acting like someone didn’t want to kill him or something. He knew that Atsumu would surrender, he would get tired anyway when he didn’t receive a response.

When he heard the front door being slammed, that was when he could finally breathe. Osamu didn’t even realise that his hands were trembling, that his skin produced a cold sweat as he once again succumbed to the guilt that eating him alive for every morning that he woke up to.

He still remembered the look inside your eyes, how the warmth that usually there was gone in an instant when he confessed what he had done. He remembered how you took a step backwards every time he walked closer to you, the frightening look that he never thought would be seen from your orbs.

It was only a matter of time before his family and friends knew what he did to you, only a matter of seconds that the news popped on the internet of how the woman behind Onigiri Miya left their shared house — that had been filled with their for years.

His family gave him a look of disappointment, and his twin brother even now could only see him with disdain predominating the brown orbs. But even then, even after what he had done to you, there was no hatred that could be felt radiated from your body. Just utter sadness, and distress.

Possibly because you were just having your heart crumbled, possibly because you never thought that he would do such a thing to you. But just that. You still look at him with the same love that you showed for him since you were sixteen, not even the tiniest bit of loathe could be seen.

And he didn’t deserve that.

“Hey, Rinrin.” Rintarou looked up from his phone, turning his gaze towards you as you twirl your body around. “Penny for your thoughts?” You looked so beautiful with the wedding dress that your mother and he used on her wedding day.

You looked so ready, all grown up now as an engagement ring circled around your finger. He swallowed a huge lump, funny how his long time crush was the one who slid that sophisticated ring on his sister.

“You look good.” He cringed from his own compliment to you. You looked so radiant that he even thought twice whether you were really related to him or not.

The two of you were nothing alike. You were such an angel with all of the good intentions and positive vibes that you had. While him on the other hand — sometimes he wished for your relationship to end, sometimes he even wished that he never introduced you to his teammates back then in high school.

And he always felt so nasty, because you had never been anything but kind to him. “I mean—”

“Hehe, I know, Rin.” You chuckled a little and walked closer to his figure. “I know that you wanted to say more than that.” You always knew what was inside his mind that was always filled with thousand random things, a contrast to the words that slipped from his lips.

Always so good, too kind for this world. You never knew how poisonous his mind sometimes no matter how much he loved you. And he always felt so sick for even thinking about such things about your happiness.

You fiddled your fingers, making him raise one of his eyebrows. He knew that you felt nervous, that you were afraid of whatever that could happen in your life. Your mind was filled with thoughts, and he wondered what inside your head right now. He was not you, he couldn’t read his sibling’s mind.

“I want to say thank you, Rin.” You looked down, stroking the ring that adorned your finger. “Thank you for bringing me to your practice that day.” Then you looked up, teary-eyed fell on his face. “Thank you for bringing Samu to my life.”

See? An angel. So innocent, eyes glimmering with hope and love.

How could he even think about tearing those joy away from you? What kind of brother was he for wanting to be in your position? To be such a jealous person and wishing that he didn’t have a sister that could catch the eyes of his crush.

He promised, he promised to himself that he would let you be happy. That his feelings were nothing compared to your happiness. That someday he would find someone else that would be his last harbour. He pulled you close to his embrace, and he could feel how you were so warm, that just having you as a sister was already a blessing.

He would never hurt you, he promised that.

Yet two months from now, he broke it so easily as he slithered his hand under your fiancé’s shirt, capturing the lips that caught yours for years. So easily, he did all of that so easily. And he continued to do so, he continued the taboo rendezvous over and over again — as if you were never there, to begin with.

“Rin?” The middle blocker jolted when he heard the familiar voice calling out to him. “Rin, sweetheart?” Why it felt wrong, why it didn’t feel right as the nickname rolled down from the tongue of his love. “You looked pale, are you alright?”

Osamu put down the glass of champagne to the table, ignoring all the blare of music that filled the entire club. He was now worried about how the brunette seemed to be sick. Rintarou didn’t answer, his green eyes were blank as it stared at the bubble on his glass.

“I am not, not really.”

Tonight was their bachelor party, they were supposed to have so much fun together with a bunch of friends. Man and woman, they were all joining the entertaining night. With both of their money combined, the couple reserved a famous club downtown until morning.

Everything went so good as everyone laughed and danced, some congratulate them, saying that they were happy for them.

But were they really happy for them? Or was it all just an act because it was the proper thing to do?

The black-haired man really wanted to part his lips and asked. He wanted to know what could possibly make his fiancé look so gloomy at a party, the party that was held for them. Yet deep down, he knew. He didn’t want to believe it but somehow at the back of his head, he could see it.

“Have you heard anything from (Y/n), Samu?” The nickname rolled so smoothly from Rintarou, the nickname that Osamu allowed only for his twin brother and his lover. Used to be you, the other person that could call him like that used to be Suna (F/n). Not — not Rintarou, not your brother.

It was as if the entire club was being put on hold. They stare at each other, with a look that they couldn’t quite fathom, both didn’t know what was inside each other’s mind. Letting out a sigh, Osamu drew his phone from his pocket, unlocking the screen lock and scrolling through the messages that he had left for you.

All was left ignored.

“The last time she answered my message was three days ago,” Osamu announced, he closed the app and opened it up again, wishing that maybe it was just his phone lagged or his internet connection being a shit. But there was still nothing, no new message even though his phone was in its prime condition.

“What was it all about?”

“About this party.” He swallowed a huge lump, biting his bottom’s lip to prevent himself from cracking. “She said she would be there for the two of us. Saying that she would always be there.” His grey orbs never left the small screen, reading through the passage that you sent.

Rintarou groaned and gulped down the champagne as if it was mineral water. He didn’t care about the dizzy feeling that he would get, later on, he didn’t care about that at this point. Slamming the glass to the table, he leaned his back on the soft cushion, staring blankly at the glittering ceiling.

It was the same, the last time he heard from you was around three days ago as he asked about whether you would be there to join the party that was being held two nights before the wedding day. You said the same thing, about how you would be here, how he didn’t have to worry about anything, that you were not going anywhere.

But it had been three hours and yet the gigantic door of the club still closed without your existence graced this place.

“Osamu.” Now the black-haired man was the one who jolted. “Michinari hit his limit now, I need to help him get back to his place.” The voice that belonged to his old captain brought him back to reality. “Is it alright to go home early?”

A little smile was there on Kita’s face as both of his hands were propping to help the now wasted apothecary. Akagi said that he would have work tomorrow, and yet he was the one who got so drunk, making the dual coloured haired man snicker at the fact.

“Oh, yes. Of course, it’s alright Kita-san.” Osamu immediately stood up, followed by Rintarou as they bowed to the man that they had immense respect to. “Please take care, we couldn’t wait to see you on the wedding day.” He said it so smoothly as if it was something that he practised in front of the mirror for hours.

“Alright then. We will take our leave.” Kita bowed a little, turning his back after that and focused on the man in his care. But before he could take another step forward, Akagi yanked his attention back to the couple.

“Ngh, please take care of (Y/n)-chan.” His voice was a slurred, yet everyone could get his point across. “She had been asking me for more sleeping pills, I think she had trouble sleeping.” The ex-libero said it so effortlessly as if it didn’t make the two men in front of him feel like being poured with cold water.

The couple looked at each other, nodding and smiled at the wasted man.

“We will, Akagi-san. I am going to check up on her tomorrow.”

Satisfied with the answer, their upperclassmen finally turned away completely. The businessman still had a soft smile on his face, waving his hand to the two fleeting figures. And when they finally walked past the door, he could finally let out a breath that he didn’t even realise he held it in.

“I will check her tomorrow,” Rintarou muttered under his breath. “You had been there the last time, now it’s my turn.” He missed you, he felt like he missed something in his life every time he had an official match and couldn’t see you on the bleachers.

You were always pushing him forward, always the first person who came when he needed company, the first person that helped him pick up all of his pieces and made it intact once again every time he was down.

So maybe he would be the one who helped you up now. Maybe it was time for him to have your back.

Yet at the same time, he felt like it was not his place anyway.

Since he was the one — who shattered your life into pieces.

»»————-　♔　————-««

The morning light peeking through the curtain. It stung his vision as it was the first thing that he saw. Was it morning? The sun was too bright to consider that right now was still early. Suna groaned, sitting up straight on the bed since he remembered that he needed to go to your house today.

His eyes darted to his side, eyebrows raised as he realised that he was alone. He still needed to get used to this house, the trace of you could still be felt on every corner of the walls. Swallowing a huge lump, he immediately got out from the bed, once again disgusted with himself as he realised that he slept on the bed where you slept for years.

He never thought about it before, when he first got lost on the same bed with the black-haired man. For the first six months of his lust-filled night, your existence was nothing to him. He knocked, being led to the bed, whimpering and groaning as the dainty fingers that usually shaped onigiri — shaping him into whatever that his lover wanted him to be.

Did you really want to see him? What if you wanted some space? Osamu once told him that both of them could not pressure you. They needed to give you time. After all, you already allowed them to be together, you were alright with it as you pushed the two of them to be together once again. You already forgave — no, wait.

You never said anything about forgiving them.

Rintarou groaned frustratedly as he jumped under the shower. His nails dug the hard surface of the tiles as the shame and guilt started to tear his sanity little by little. He shook his head, wanting to believe that you were happy for them. You let them together, to be in love with each other, at least they got your blessing. That was enough.

The brunette just decided to do a quick shower, grabbing a random shirt and boxer from the drawer. He needed to do something, he needed Osamu. They needed to talk, he would go insane if it would be going around like this. It felt too much; the scent, the aura, everything in this house just screamed you.

He hurriedly walked downstairs, his heart beating so fast all of a sudden as if he was running away from a serial killer. Rintarou needed to talk things out, either to his fiancé, or his lovely sister. Before the wedding, before he changed his last name to Miya, he needed one more reassurance.

But his heart immediately felt at ease when he saw the back of his lover. Osamu hummed a song while cooking. Perhaps lunch — or breakfast for him — he flipped the pan effortlessly. And with just a sight of his old-time crush since high school, Rintarou was blinded once again.

His mind was clouded with needs, with peace. This was what he always imagined, to see someone he adored so much cooking for him. The sight was worth thousands of dollars; with arms flexing, broad back moved around here and there, Rintarou took some steps closer to gather more warmth.

He slipped his arms around Osamu, eyes fluttering close as he was now recharging his mind and body. His fiancé just chuckled and turned off the stove, untangled himself before turning his body to face the sleepy man.

“Can’t believe you really sleep for hours.” Snickering, his hand carding the brown strands gently. “I cook some European cuisine today, do you want to eat—” But he stopped the second he saw the forlorn look inside the green orbs. And he understood the reason behind it.

Osamu couldn’t believe himself this morning as he woke up and reached out his hand to the side. He interlaced his hand with the one person besides him. Instead of squeezing it, he pulled his hand so fast, as if the feelings were foreign. That was not you, the size and the skin were different.

It was as if he came back to a year prior, where he wanted no one else but your presence. Maybe it was just alcohol that made him feel as if he never cheated on you as if he never had his tongue inside your brother’s lips. You were haunting him, even though you said you let him go already, it still tasted so bitter every time he swallowed down his saliva.

“Maybe it will calm you down, maybe not. But (Y/n) called me this morning.” Osamu spoke up, the information made the brunette’s pupil dilated. “I missed it, and when I called she didn’t answer. But she left me a message, she’s fine, Rintarou.” And right now, he didn’t know anymore was he trying to comfort his fiancé, or himself.

“And the message…?” The middle blocker pulled himself away, a little bit fidgety under the gaze that he couldn’t quite fathom. “She’s going to our wedding tomorrow, right? Or what was it all about? Define ‘fine’, Samu. My sister’s messages, how she typed her message? Is she really saying that she’s okay?”

He was always like this when he became too agitated, or too nervous. Osamu patted his shoulder gently before cupping his cheek, wiping the tears that wanted to spill from the corner of his orbs. “I needed to see her, I had to see her, Samu. I—”

“She’s away, Rin.” But those words shut him up. “She said she’s sorry that she couldn’t attend the wedding tomorrow. Maybe she needed space, we have to respect her choice.”

No, there was more to it. You were someone who always prioritizes others than yourself. It was just too drastic, to know that you suddenly told one of them that you were not going to be there. Something was off, Rintarou could feel it on every fibre inside his body.

“Hey, don’t think too much about it.” The long fingers that belonged to his lover, tilting his chin so his orbs met with the greyish one. “She’s fine, Rin. She needed more time and started to prioritise herself, it’s a good thing.”

He really wanted to retort, to voice out the sickening feelings that were swirling inside his stomach right now. Yet the gaze that he received told him to just zip it in, that he just had to focus on each other as tomorrow maybe when they seal their love, you would come around and they would be at ease.

So Rintarou just kept his mouth shut, believing the words that rolled down from his lover’s tongue. His eyes fluttering close before once again capturing the lips that now belonged to him.

Miya Osamu was all his, Miya Osamu wasn’t yours anymore — and he needed to get lost one more time, feeling the heat that he finally tasted after ten years just pining and grumbling. He wanted to be selfish, forgetting the breakfast that his fiancé prepared before.

He had to feel some kind of distraction, one thing to focus on until tomorrow at the time their future would be secured by the vow.

Because he needed to shake his own mind which forced him to keep coming back to you.

Tagged Lovelies:

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