#then last resort breakup

[geee-three]

im still not over jackpot btw

[the-fairy-thing]

Jane and Rochester are my favourite couple hands down but funny enough one of my favourite scenes in the book is their breakup. Not only is it filled with such raw emotions and passion but Charlotte Brontë fed us so much poetic symbolism on their wedding night!!!

1. Rochester bridal carries Jane down the stairs when she felt faint. What stereotypically happens on a wedding night? A groom bridal carries his bride to the bedroom to consummate the marriage. Ironic how it’s reversed… they are descending the stairs and leaving the bedroom.

2. Rochester seating Jane in his chair. His chair symbolizes authority and power. Jane sits in his chair because symbolically she now holds the power and authority over what happens to their relationship. Having Rochester place Jane in his chair foreshadows his realization at the end of the scene that he is in fact powerless, and there is nothing he can do to make Jane stay unless it’s of her own free will. His fate lies within her choice.

3. Again, Charlotte plays with the theme of traditional marriage ceremonies and gives Jane & Rochester reverse wedding vows. Typically in the marriage ceremony there is a vow made followed by an “I do”. Charlotte cleverly uses this but makes it a vow of separation between Jane and Rochester. He pleads to Jane if she really means to go and Jane replies “I do”, then Rochester repeatedly asks if she means it after kissing her to which Jane responds “I do” each time.

4. Rochester’s “I could bend her with my finger and thumb” speech. This whole monologue is full of symbolism as Rochester reasons with himself if physical violence would be his last resort in making Jane stay. Nothing he has said could convince her to yield. He knows he is powerless, though there is one place he still knows he holds more power… in his physical strength. He verbalizes in pretty graphic symbolism what would happen if this option would get him what he wants (Jane) but it won’t do. Even if he got to Jane’s body he wouldn’t have her soul (and that’s really what he wants). He realizes the ONLY way he can have Jane is if her will decides it and this is the moment he finally lets her go.

[aphroditesmoon]

'cause I love this curse on our house

clarisse la rue x fem!demigod!reader

summary: !THIS WAS A REQUEST THAT I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED! the requester wanted a fic about clarisse and reader breaking up after an argument, and after months apart from eachother, reader appears at the ares cabin at 3am because she couldn't sleep without clarisse.

warnings: sparring violence, angst, hurt/comfort, arguing, fluff at the end.

a/n: im sooo sorry I accidentally deleted ur request😭🙏 but I hope this is to your liking, and thank you for your kind words🩷🎀

wc: 3.1k

"I never learned to lose a fight, I never learned to grow upright. this is who we are."

-back to you, flowerface

----

Clarisse wondered to herself, on whether or not you'd come running to her if she were to stake this spear through her chest.

Surely, you would? Sensible, independant and stubborn you.

She knew it'd take more than some flowers and half assed apology to get you to speak to her again, and with that knowledge in her head, she isn't sure what that would mean for your relationship.

Clarisse La Rue would rather die than be caught begging for your forgiveness. She would also consider maiming herself as a last resort for any problem she's ever had.

But it has been 3 months, and everyone knows about the 3 months rule.

3 months into dating, 3 months after a breakup. And yet so far, neither of you have tried to "happy new years" your way into eachother's life again.

It is a painful observation for the girl to make. And it's more painful for her to admit that she is at least 40% in the wrong.

That is the thing about the two of you, you become abrasive everytime you're upset, and Clarisse becomes confrontational everytime she is upset. On a normal day, those traits are opposite.

The truth was, Clarisse knew deep down how flawed she is as a person, and as a lover. She is a fighter at heart.

And though she'll admit, she's one of the best out there, being the daughter of a literal war god, but sometimes it feels like that's all she's good for. Does she want to love? Yes. Does she know how to? Not really.

She loves the early hours with you before everybody wakes up, trying to convince you to stay longer in her bed before you sneak out to avoid being noticed.

She loves the intimacy of your hands instinctively intertwining in a cabin party where the music is too loud and people are brushing against you in almost every corner as they try to dance or make their way out, and no one is paying attention to how her thumb caresses your knuckles.

She loves your lips, and how they feel around her neck as you bury your head in the crook of it from behind.

And at one point in the past, she loved how easy it was to be with you. Not the deep connection or understanding, but the way you wouldn't hold it against her if she were to pretend she didn't hear say hi as you walked past her. And how you didn't mind sneaking into her bed after midnight and the darkness becomes the only witness of your loving glances and tight embraces.

But Clarisse was quick to realize later on. that she might want more than that with you. It all felt impossible. Her reputation, her need to always look the toughest and never having a visible weakspot that might be used against her in the future.

And exposing you as her Achilles' heel, would mean that everything she's worked so hard for would break down into pieces the moment the news is out.

Her father already views her as a mistake. Something that could never be his. And for that she's had to work twice as hard as any of her siblings, and still be the least worthy in his eyes.

Were you worth risking all of that? She doesn't know. She doesn't think she ever will, now that it's all over.

And what about you?

What part did you play in cutting down the fragile line of rope the two of you had stood on?

Well, you were strong, opiniated, and rational. So fucking rational that it pissed her off. While she was losing her mind watching you laughing and giggling in the corner by a tree with some random dude that looked like he was birthed by a rat hybrid during the end of year party being held in camp. You were completely fine with not being with her.

Of course she knew that whatever going on between you two was a secret, but why were you so fine with it? Are you not affected by her the way she is with you?

"I'm playing the game by your rules, this is what you wanted." You had snapped at her after she dragged you away from your boring date into a secluded part into the forest. "This isn't a game." She had blurted out in frustration.

"Isn't it? Whenever you want me, I'm there. Whenever you don't, it's like I've never existed." And you were right. This was what she wanted. Despite herself and her feelings, this was how she treated you.

"We know we're together, why does anyone else needs to know that?" Clarisse asked instead of telling you what she really wanted to.

"Are you ashamed of me, Clarisse?" She could not answer your question. I'm ashamed of myself. She thought.

Can't you see? You are the only person who's been patient enough to wait for me, to stay with me. But then I'm looking for you in every crowd just to see that you don't even notice my absence.

Oh fuck it, in the end of the day, it would've never worked. Her thoughts countered againts one another.

Clarisse La Rue was born angry, all she ever knew to be, is angry. Her shortcomings is her inability to be gentle with those she loves the most, her need to break and rip every sensitive soul that has ever pitied her enough to try and pull out that ancient rage holed up in her chest.

"You were nothing without me. I found you, I gave you something to care about, something to anchor yourself to. Cause gods, you act like you don't give a shit, but you care so much that you make yourself believe that you don't care about being tossed aside, like it doesn't hurt you when I don't look twice on your way in front of other people."

The way she looked at you as she spat each and every word onto your face, was worse than the things she had actually said.

You scoffed at her, even with tears in your eyes, you glared at her and laughed out bitterly, refusing to sob or break under her stare.

"You know what your problem is, Clarisse?" You asked, even with the cracks in your voice, her spine shivered. "Indulge me." She forced out.

"You are so miserable, that you can't stand to see anyone else that isn't. You just need me to be pissed and devestated so you could feel better about yourself. Cause Gods forbid if you don't view your self worth on how less everyone else is." Clarisse says nothing, she knew you weren't finished.

"But I don't need to fuck over anyone else's life to know that I'm good. I'm perfectly fucking fine. I was fine before you, and I'll- I'll be fine after you." And there it was. That was where it all came crashing down.

Clarisse bad one second to say fuck all, to cut down all the bullshit. To admit that for once in her life, she was tired of fighting, and she had no clue what she's doing.

But as she opened her mouth to say it all, something in the shadow of her ego had restrained her tongue from speaking at all.

And so you watched her close her lips tight, and grieved then apology she never gave, the girl she couldn’t be for you. And then you left.

Everyone steered clear from Clarisse's way, unsure of what was getting on her nerves, and not caring enough to want to know.

And that night became the last time the two of you have ever spoke to eachother.

"Clarisse." Her brother's voice snaps her out of her thoughts. He was in position with his spear.

"Aim for my chest, remember to move your feet like taught you." She instruced him, fixing her own stance. "Go."

The boy moves quickly, and just like she envisioned in her head for ten thousand times in the just a few minutes ago, her feet drags.and her hand slows down for a second- because all it took is a second for the spear to slash her chest, and slams her down on her back.

---

Growing up, you had always earned the title of the "easy" one. Compared to your step-siblings, you had caused the least problem, required the least attention, asked the least questions.

You always knew what to do. You took care of your siblings when your parent couldn't, you knew how to take care of them the way your parent would. You knew when to get things done before you were told to, you knew where the pills were whenever you weren't feeling where. And you knew which secrets were better kept to yourself.

That one doesn't need watching over, they'd say about you. Even as you're being sent over to camp quick enough before the monsters acended, you were still not worth being worried over.

Someone who takes care of others so well, sure knows how to take care of themselves, right? Right.

Of course you're self sufficient, of course even know, you know where to find medication before your sickness gets worse. Or course even now, you know just the right things to tell people so you'd be left alone.

That was the bright side of raising yourself and growing up in an environment that made you feel so alone, you get used to the silence as the company gets smaller and smaller.

But no one ever said that loneliness felt good, even as a person who's found comfort in it. Because the truth of it, is that it's the sinking feeling in your stomach that you get addicted to. It is the repetitive cycle of breaking down that feels like home, because that's the only constant thing that have prevailed in your life.

What Clarisse had given you, with her presence, her rare tenderness and welcoming touches, was something new that had altered your entire defense system. Hope. She had given you hope.

And as you stood in the house that fell all over you, surviving the damage just like you always do. You realised just how stupid you were to even think that this time it would be different.

The news of Clarisse's injury spread like wildfire. And after repressing your emotions for the longest time, you felt your chest tightening from a familiar feeling.

Clarisse have taken blows before, but never this bad, never this serious. You know that she'd heal in time, but it doesn't stop you from worrying.

How could she be so stupid and careless? Being slammed down by a younger sibling nonetheless. Even if she has no regard for her physical safety, she must have one for her pride.

She's never so easily distracted or foolish, this injury and including her little spear incident has been looked upon by others as a moment of weakness for her. They are starting to wonder if Clarisse was ever that competent in the first place, or if she has just been making it look like she is.

You tossed and turned on your bed. The sheets don't feel right against your skin. It must be the heat, you tell yourself. It must be the heat because it cannot be the deprivation of Clarisse's cold skin from yours.

Demigods do not medicate the same way mortals do, and yet without anyone knowing, you've been swallowing down melatonin almost every night to be able to fall asleep.

It's not easy to get, the last hidden stock of it from the medical room finished 3 nights ago. And if no one had noticed your sleeping problems before, they do now because of your visible under eye bags.

Your hands have been shaking, a side effect of mortal drugs. It has also been making you more jumpy, anxious.

The worst of it all is how all those symptoms only worsens your sleeping problems now. As if seasonal depression itself isn't bad enough, now you're capable of staying up all night revisiting old haunting memories.

It's easy to distract yourself in the day with all the training and learning to do.

But no one survives the cruel coldness that the night presents itself with. When your only friend is the empty ceiling staring back down at you, and the only kind of blanket you want are the ones that feels like her arms.

It was ironic, you still wanted her the way a kicked dog would still roll over if asked to.

You had left her with your head held up high. But only the gods know how low to the ground you'd kneel down to for her to look at you again the way she used to.

If she had wanted you more lenient, then she could've just asked. If she had needed you to need her more then you would've begged for her if she would've just told you.

Pushing aside the soft material of your blanket off of you, your feet barely makes a sound as you tiptoed to the door to exit your cabin.

You told yourself you don't really know where you're going. But you moved in the same way you had 3 months ago, the road is memorized, the pace is as similar, and the yearning is twice as strong.

The moom followed you from above, lightimg the way as you walked on the ground from the pavements to patches of grass.

When you found yourself in front of the Ares cabin, you truly asked yourself if you have even an ounce of shame or sense left in your head. The answer was none, all that lived inside of you was dread, ever growing. The last straw before the breaking.

The last chance that looks a little too late to be taking for.

And yet as you pull open the door ever so slightly the way you used to, you feel it being held static before a creaking noise could be made. And like memories you've seen flashing in your mind multiple times before, your eyes meet Clarisse's.

"What are you doing here?"

"What are you doing up?"

You spoke at the same time as her. Both of you looked as surprised as the other.

As you took in eachother's appearance, Clarisse looks at you expectedly, considering that you are the one who isn't at your cabin. "I...wanted to see you."

Her expression changes slightly, as if she wasn't expecting that answer.

"Weird hour to visit." She noted. "Weird hour to be up by the door after you're slashed on the chest by a spear."

The two of you stared at eachother in silence before you notice Clarisse's chest heaving as she breathed out a low sigh. "Do you want to come in?" She whispered out to you. You nod your head once and waited for her to move aside so you could be let in.

Naturally, your hand found hers. She clasped her fingers over yours without a question as the two of you walked towards her bed.

Sitting dowm side by side, you eye the outline of her face closely in the dark, some sort of relief is released in your chest. "How bad is the damage?" You asked slowly. You almost reached up to brush a strand of hair away from her face, but caught yourself.

"Could've been worse." Was her response.

"Does it hurt right now?" You inquired again. You hear her inhale sharply and wondered if breathing was hard for her. "Yeah."

"I'm sorry." You weren't sure what else to tell her. To know that she was in pain had hurt you as well, but a larger part of you did not really care for her injury. Only now do you realise how much being away from her have affected you.

Now, in much closer proximity, your breathing fans her skin, the back of her hand touching yours, and her eyes unmoving from yours, do you realise just how much you needed Clarisse La Rue.

"It doesn't hurt as much as having to watch you leave." She spoke those words in a hushed whisper, meant only for your ears. If only dhe has been a little louder. You would've been able to hear the halt in the back of her throat. "No?" You whispered back to her. "No."

"I wouldn't have left, if you would've just asked me to stay."

"I know. I know you would." She mutters it affectionately, the cold shoulder already gone. "I know you would...you've always been good to me."

You swallowed the lump in your throat and held your tears in. "Then why didn't you?"

Clarisse shrugged. "I'm never good to you."

You frowned at her reply, feeling a jolt of anger striking through you. "But you could be. Why won't you be good to me, Clarisse?" Water gathered in your eyes, your primise yo refrain from crying broken.

"I would give you anything. I would give you my life. Could you just be good to me, Clarisse?" You told yourself that you wouldn't ask this question again, no matter how much of a dog you feel like, you won't force her to give you a bone.

And so with a tear running down your cheek, you looked up at her pleadingly and thought, please, see me, want me, love me. Need me the way I need you.

Her forehead softly rests againts yours, and you hear her then, mumbling."I could be good. I could be good to you."

Her thumb finds the wet streak on your face and wipes it off. "I want to be good to you."

"Then do that. It's that easy." She shakes her head lightly, making your frown deepens. "I've had to be this person that everyone expects me to be, because of my father, and my siblings. Sometimes giving in, feels like it could be death itself. Sweet dreams before you wake up in hell. That's what it feels like trying to be the person you want me to be. Punishment worthy."

"But it isn't death, Clarisse. Not just because someone else thinks it should be.

- Not just because your father thinks so."

"I know." She answers with a more reassuring tone.

"I haven't been able to sleep without you." You tell her out of obligation. "I can tell." She joked, the both of you chuckled lightly.

Clarisse then crawled over her bed to lie down and tugged you by your sleeve to find your place in her embrace again.

Laying your head above the area her chest was struck on, her beating heart becomes your lullaby. You fell asleep soon after, with your legs tangled together under the covers. Whatever was to happen tomorrow, it wouldn't matter. Because the worst was over.

[sadseungmin]

Hiiiiiii can you write something about reader trying to breakup with phsycotic/yandere Chan 🥺 Only if you can babes❤️

♡ breaking up with a psychotic bang chan ♡

psychotic bang chan x afab reader | dead dove | nsfw (MDNI)

p.s. i hope this is to your liking, anon!

⚠︎ tw: non-consensual elements (i.e. forced breeding), physical violence, threats of murder

✧･ﾟ: psychotic!chan will emotionally manipulate you *✧･ﾟ:*

Chan resorts to intense emotional manipulation, exploiting your insecurities and fears to make you feel guilty and unworthy. He convinces you that no one else could ever love you as he does and that leaving him would be the worst mistake of your life. He recounts every positive moment you two have shared and proclaims these moments cannot be recreated with another. Essentially, you are manipulated into questioning whether ending things with him is the right choice.

"Baby, you're not making sense. After everything we've been through, after all the time I've poured into loving you despite your flaws, why would you want to give up on us—on me? Who else is going to take the time to learn how to love you unconditionally?"

✧･ﾟ: psychotic!chan will physically abuse you *✧･ﾟ:*

Chan uses physical violence to assert his control over you and instill fear. He yanks you close by the hair, roughly wrapping your locks around his fist so tightly that your scalp pulsates for hours afterwards. He also enjoys choking you until you almost pass out, slamming you into walls with a grip around your throat that leave behinds finger-tip shaped bruises. Whenever you're helplessly within his grasp like this, Chan leans in incredibly close and makes it clear with a cold, stern expression that he won't tolerate any of your attempts to leave. The violence is terrifying, but Chan deems it necessary to keep from losing you.

"I'm trying to be patient with you, baby, because I love you to fucking pieces, but you're being so damn difficult. Every time you try to leave me, it brings me closer and closer to snuffing your life out, because if I can't have you in this life, I damn sure will in the next. Don't make me go there, baby. No more talk of leaving, yeah?"

✧･ﾟ: psychotic!chan will forcibly breed you *✧･ﾟ:*

Chan is desperate to bind you to him for the rest of your lives. He believes that having a child together will ensure you can never leave him. He sabotages your birth control by replacing your contraceptive medication with disguised sleeping pills. Several times a week, you wake up to Chan thrusting wildly inside of you, whispering potential baby names with each forceful, animalistic thrust. And when he paints the inside of your womb white, he whispers to you how pretty you'll be as a mother and how excited he is to watch your tummy grow from his seed. All you can do is lay there, feeling full and hot inside, tears beading in the corner of your eyes as you realize you don't remember the last time you had a period.

"Oh, shi—Gonna fuck a daycare into you, y/n! Gonna keep you plump and round and full. You'll make such a perfect mommy, baby! You'd never abandon me then, right? How could you when we'd have Tzu...Yeong...Byeol...Eun...Iseul...Wonsi—"

[holylulusworld]

Sewer Rat (1)

Summary: He broke your heart. Now he must pay for it.

Pairing: Mobster!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader, former Mobster!Tony Stark x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, scared reader, Bucky is scary as shit, mentions of a breakup, Tony is the worst in this (sorry), mentions of groping

Sewer rat masterlist

He leans back in his expensive leather armchair, one leg crossed over the other. The kingpin of his own castle of blood, fear, and power smirks at you because you hit the bottom.

Coming here was your last resort, and you’ll do anything he wants.

He knows it. You know it. His men aiming their guns at you know it.

James Buchanan Barnes. Cold-hearted and calculating boss of the most feared organization in town. Well, except the one your boyfriend leads—or rather ex-boyfriend.

“What can I do for you, doll?” He clings his pinky ring against the glass filled with the most expensive whiskey a man can buy for money. Bucky watches you with those cold steel-blue eyes, making you shrink into yourself.

“I—” Your voice cracks. “I need your help.” You bite your lower lip, chewing on it. “I think you already heard what happened.”

“Oh, that—” He smirks while his eyes are glued to your trembling lips. Bucky enjoys your predicament; you’re sure about it. “It spread like wildfire that you are no longer Tony Stark’s arm candy, doll.”

“I wasn’t his...” you trail off. Bucky is right. After what happened a few hours ago, you know you were never more than a body he could use. A pretty thing to dress up and show off to his friends and allies.

Bucky takes a small sip of his drink, humming as the amber liquid burns on his tongue just right. “You were only his pretty doll to play with,” he insists as you drop your gaze and nod. Beggars can’t be choosers, so you’ll just let Bucky throw everything he wants your way. “Now that he’s done playing, he tossed you onto the street.”

“Mr. Barnes,” you say, and take one step toward Bucky, causing his men to unlock their guns. Your body goes stiff, and you hastily lift your hands in the air. “I-I…” You whimper in fear.

“Guys, relax,” Bucky laughs. “We checked her on weapons, didn’t we?” He quirks a brow and looks in Steve’s direction.”

“Rumlow did,” Steve replies, and goes back to watching your every move.

“Hmm…yeah,” Rumlow replies. He licks his lips as you drop your gaze. “She was soft and warm but not armed, boss.”

Bucky makes a face but doesn’t say a thing. Rumlow can get a bit handsy when it comes to pretty ladies. He doesn’t blame him, though. “So, no weapons, gentlemen. Please relax and secure your guns. I’d hate to shed her blood.”

“Got it, boss,” the men murmured in unison and secured their guns. “What are our orders?”

They expectantly look at Bucky, awaiting his orders. He leans forward, eyes glued to your exposed legs. Bucky licks his lips before he washes the taste of victory down with the rest of his whiskey.

“I want her to tell me what happened tonight,” he smirks and winks at you. “Come on, doll. Amuse me.”

“He kicked me out,” you stubbornly glare at Bucky. He’s enjoying this a little too much. “You already know that, Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky’s features darken. He slowly rises from his seat to stalk toward you. Bucky grips your face with his metal hand, making you whimper in fear.

“If I ask you a question, I expect you to answer me. Tell me every little detail, Y/N.” He leans closer to breathe in your face. You can smell the alcohol he drank and his cologne.

“He told me to leave, believing I am cheating on him,” you splutter without thinking twice. If Bucky wants to know every detail, you’ll give him the full heartbreak experience. “I tried to tell him that it’s not true, but Tony wouldn’t listen. He saw me with an old friend and assumed the worst. That old friend is in town to get married. He asked me to meet up with him to catch up. I used to work at the library with him.”

“What else?” He whispers in your ear, almost gently. If not for his metal hand holding your chin in a tight grip, you’d believe he’s a gentle man wanting to flirt with you. “Doll. I want to know everything.”

You sniffle. It’s so hurtful to repeat the words Tony threw at you after he dragged you out of the showers. Not half an hour ago you made love, and then he kicked you out of his life.

“Please don’t make me say it.”

“I want to hear everything, or you can go out there and try your luck,” Bucky growls in your ear. “I’m waiting. Time is running out on you.”

“He called me a sewer rat, and that he regrets bringing me into his life,” you choke out a sob, remembering the hatred in Tony’s voice. “He said that it would’ve been if he left me out there for dying.”

“And he just did that, didn’t he?” Bucky steps away. His hand drops from your chin as you look at him with watery eyes.

He’s not wrong. Tony pushed you out of his house in nothing but a towel. You barely had the time to grab your bathrobe before you ended up on the sidewalk in front of his house.

Bucky’s eyes drop to your bare feet. Now dirty and full of blisters. You had to walk toward the next house, begging them to allow you to call someone for help.

None of your so-called friends answered. Suddenly you were dead to them. You left the house, sitting on the sidewalk, until a black SUV stopped right next to you. Calling Bucky to beg him for help was your last resort. You remember his number because Tony saved it under “the devil.”.

“So, you came here to ask me for help?” Bucky laughs in your face, but you can’t find your situation funny. “You got that I’m your sugar daddy’s enemy.” He quirks a brow when you stubbornly lift your chin and glare his way.

You square your jaw before you nod. “I know you hate each other and that you’d love to take over his empire.” You smirk now as you get something out of the pocket of your bathrobe. “If you promise to help me get revenge on him, I’ll help you bring him down.”

You throw Tony’s little black book in Bucky’s lap. “What’s that?”

“A list of people he pays to look the other way,” you take a careful step toward Bucky. “This is a pledge of our confidence, and such a pledge is justified only if you do your part too. If so, I can help you bring him down.”

“How?” Bucky smirks as he thumbs through the little black book. “You were his bed bunny, not his right-hand man.”

“Oh, didn’t you know that men love to talk about business in bed? During sex, after, or while I suck them off?” You snap at Bucky. “Tony is very talkative, close to an orgasm, or after. All men are.”

“You’re a little vixen, huh?” Bucky seems to be amused, but his mind is running a mile in a minute. If you know more about Tony’s business, Bucky could easily take one of his biggest enemies down. “What do you want in return?”

“You will protect me until I’m back on my feet. I’ll need a little money to leave town and start anew somewhere far away from here. Whatever you do to Tony, I don’t care because I won’t be around when it happens.”

Bucky looks at the little black book again. He heard about it through the grapevine. Tony Stark is an old-fashioned man in many ways. He loves technology but doesn’t trust it enough to save his contacts on his computer.

“If you can deliver me more information, you’ve got yourself a deal, doll,” he holds out his hand, smirking as you reluctantly shake it. “Steve, make sure that Natasha gets my new informant new clothes and toiletries. Rumlow, tell the maid to prepare the guestroom next to my bedroom. Y/N and I have a lot to discuss, gentlemen. Please leave us alone now.”

The men leave the room without a second glance. Only Steve, Bucky’s best friend since childhood and the most trusted man, stays put.

He watches you with interest as you stand next to his friend. Lion with its prey. Steve thinks to himself. He pities you because you have no clue what you got yourself into.

Part 2

Tags in reblog.

[buckyispunk]

Aloha

Aloha part one ~ Bucky Barnes x f!Reader (no use of Y/N), read part two here!

masterlist

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (no use of Y/N)

Summary: You arrive at a Hawaiian resort for your ex's wedding and a man named Bucky buys you a drink. You proceed to spend the next day with him, getting to know him and his friends.

A/N: New series! There will probably be five or so parts, with much more smut, angst, and fluff to come :) let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list for this series!

Warnings: unwanted touching (not by Bucky), dom!bucky, unprotected PiV sex, creampie, spitting, choking, orgasm delay/denial, oral (f receiving), fingering, drinking, Bucky's got a filthy mouth

Word Count: 11k

Fucking Brock. You sit on the couch staring at the little cardstock rectangle in disbelief.

Join us in celebrating Brock and Marisssa’s special day! surrounded by hibiscus flowers and a tropical design. The flowery invitation theme makes sense when you read that the wedding is in Hawaii. 

You hadn’t seen Brock in years. Three, to be exact. It had been in the soup aisle of the grocery store.

You had been reaching for a can of tomato paste to make spaghetti to eat alone in your little apartment. You looked a mess, having stopped at the store on your way home from a long day of work. You heard him call your name - his nonchalant, egotistical voice recognizable anywhere. 

“Oh my god, how’ve you been? It’s been too long!” He had said, as if he had made any attempts to reach out to you - or had any desire to - since you had broken up. 

“Oh,” you turned around to face him, “fine, you?”

“I’m doing great! Just here to buy some soup for my girlfriend, she’s been under the weather lately.”

Not even a minute into conversation and he’d mentiioned his new girlfriend. You had just broken up two months before. You tried your best to keep the look of shock and sadness from your face. How had he moved on so quick? Did your almost four year relationship meant so little to him? 

You managed to give a small noncommittal smile and nod. He wasn’t paying enough attention to you to notice anyway, grabbing a couple of cans of chicken noodle soup and turning back the way he came. 

“We should get together and catch up sometime!” he had shouted over his shoulder as he walked away.

That was the last time you had seen him. It wasn’t like the two of you were on bad terms or anything. The break up had been civil - civil as a breakup can be, anyway. You and Brock had begun dating in your freshman year of college. One day, in the middle of you and Brock’s senior year, he sat you down and said he needed to talk to you. He said that you were great and he’d always have a special place in his heart for you, but he just couldn’t picture himself with you for the rest of his life - so there’s no point in wasting anymore time, as he had put it. To be honest, you didn’t disagree.

You had been unhappy towards the end of the relationship. You could tell that Brock was distancing himself and the two of you got in little fights almost every day. You knew it wasn’t going to work out, but it had still left a huge hole in your heart. Brock was a big part of your life every day for four years, then all of a sudden he was just gone. A big piece of you was missing and you had to rebuild it yourself. Turns out Brock rebuilt that piece with another girl. If he ever had a piece that needed rebuilding in the first place, that is. 

You really had wanted to stay friends with him after the breakup, or at least remain civil with him. He had never reached out after that day in the grocery store and you had no desire to reach out to him - you had healed yourself and decided you were better off without him. 

You sit on the couch running your fingers over the rough material, rereading the words over and over again, trying to make sense of it all. You really don’t care that Brock is getting married, it’s not like you want him back or anything. But, at the same time, you weren’t necessarily chomping at the bit to go watch him and his fiancee celebrate their special day. 

A vacation did sound nice, though. You’d always wanted to go to Hawaii. Plus, you figured some of you and Brock’s friends from college would be in attendance. The two of you had been in the same friend group when he asked you out. You lost touch with the friend group after the break up. You would see some of them in passing or in classes and share small talk, but you had stopped getting invitations to hang out with them. You weren’t one to hold a grudge, though, and it would be nice to see them again. 

You mull it over for a little while before deciding that it would be a good move on your part to go, show Brock that you were still on good terms with him and that him getting married doesn’t bother you. You could take a break from work and get some much-needed sun and relaxation. You RSVP and check no, you will not be bringing a plus one.  

The months leading up to the wedding follow the same, monotonous routine. Work, eat, sleep, repeat. Occasionally your coworkers would drag you out to the bar after work and you would go - desperate to feel some sort of belonging. Despite your efforts over the years, you had never gotten close with any of the girls at work. You got along with them okay, but you wouldn’t exactly call them your friends. Acquaintances was a more fitting term.

You do, however, have one best friend. The only issue is that she lives almost a thousand miles away. You had moved to New York for school and she had stayed back home in Illinois. You stay in contact with her and your family. Most days, talking to them makes you more homesick than anything else. You’d considered moving back more than once, but had ultimately decided against it each time - you’re scared to look like a failure. You don’t want to come running back home at the first signs of struggle. You want to prove to everyone back home that you can make it in the big city by yourself. 

As the days go by, you find yourself looking forward to the special day. Not because of the wedding, but because you’re ready to escape the numb hell that your life has become. The wedding is on a Friday. You’re flying in on Monday and leaving Sunday morning. Six nights at the tropical resort Brock and Marissa have picked. 

It’s the Sunday night before you leave. Your bags are packed and waiting by the door. Sleep comes easy, knowing that by this time tomorrow you’ll be drinking cocktailas at a pool-side bar, free from work stress and city traffic. Away from the city where you feel lonely among millions of people.

Usually when the ear-piercing, dread instilling sound of your alarm rings, you hit the snooze button and pull the covers tighter in attempt to hang on to your last moments of comfort and peace - or as close as you can get to that, these days. Today, however, is different. When you hear the all-too familiar noise coming from your phone, it leaves you with a feeling of excitement rather than depression. 

You sit up, smile on your face, and get ready for the day. After showering and putting on your comfiest plane clothes, you grab your bags and head outside. You hail a taxi and can’t even bring yourself to be upset when he doesn’t offer to help you with your luggage. You smile the whole way to the airport.

I repeat, flight DL4567 is delayed by two hours. Boarding will begin at 12:10.

The universe has found a way to put you in a bad mood again. You’re certain whatever higher power there is had sent this sudden thunderstorm just for you. You look at your phone to check the time - 9:45. You had been sitting here for an hour already. The hard chair is starting to get uncomfortable, so you decide to get your second cup of coffee for the morning. You stand and grab your luggage, making your way to the end of the Starbucks line. You order your go-to drink and some breakfast.

Once you get your coffee and food you find a little table to sit at and pull out your book. You find yourself enthralled in your book and the time flies. A voice over the loudspeaker breaks you out of your trance. 

Flight DL4567 now boarding. 

You snap your book shut and clean up your table. You grab your bags and head back to your gate. After waiting in line for a little while, you finally take your seat on the plane. You put in your earbuds and watch the grey clouds outside - thankful you got a window seat. By the time the plane starts moving, you’re smiling again and counting down the time until your arrival. 

You spend the first five hours of your flight reading and watching TV - you’re pleasantly surprised to see that they have your favorite show. Sometime after they serve lunch, you fall asleep. When you wake up, there’s only two hours left until arrival. 

You watch the fluffy clouds outside your window and find that time passes quickly when you think about all the things you want to do in Hawaii. You also find that the time passes impossibly slow when you let your mind drift to New York and all your responsibilities. How is it that you haven’t even landed in Hawaii yet and you’re already dreading returning back home?

You see the beaches and the luscious green that fill the ground beneath you. You take in all the sights as best you can as you get closer and closer to the ground, preparing for landing. Your ears hurt slightly from the pressure change, but you’ve got other things on your mind.

After waiting some more to get your luggage, you finally manage to get on a shuttle and you’re on your way to the resort. You watch the mountains in the distance and the palm trees on the drive. You’re listening to your playlist through your earbuds and this is the happiest you’ve felt in a while. You could get used to this, you think. 

Your jaw drops when you pull up to the hotel. The huge building is right on the beach. Sure, that’s what it had said online, but the real thing it’s even more staggering in person than it had been in the pictures. The sun beats down on you as soon as you step out of the shuttle, but there’s a nice breeze that makes it enjoyable. A worker hands you your bags from the back of the bus and you thank him. You roll them inside the resort, eyes widening even more when you see the inside of the place. You can’t wait to get your bags in your room and explore. 

The receptionist is nice as can be and tells you to enjoy your stay as she hands you your key cards - like you’ll be needing more than one. You wheel your luggage into the elevator and press the number five. You’re astonished by the view when you step into your room. Your balcony faces the beach and you can see mountains in the distance. The evening sun is still shining bright and there’s not a cloud in the sky. 

It’s just after seven o’clock by the time you’re done changing. You head down to the main floor and set off to explore. There’s a spa, an indoor and outdoor bar, a pool, a hot tub, a gym, and a restaurant. You decide to hit the outdoor bar and enjoy the last of the daylight. 

You slide into a barstool. The warmth of the sun and the refreshing sea-side breeze, along with a couple cocktails, quickly put you into a relaxed headspace. You’d been looking forward to this for so long and it’s definitely all you’d imagined it would be. 

The resort is pretty full, but not to the point where it gets on your nerves. The bar is occupied by a group of girls who look a little younger than you and some married couples.

You’re just finishing your second drink when something catches your attention - a loud, boisterous laugh coming from the other end of the bar. You lean forward to see a group of guys you hadn’t noticed before. The laugh comes from a man with chocolatey, smooth skin. He’s sitting with a gigantic blond man who is currently looking down at the bartop and shaking his head, a half smile on his face. The last man, though, is what makes you do a double take. 

He’s got dark, fluffy hair. Though his stubble tries to hide it, you notice his sharp jawline. His shoulders are broad and his biceps stretch the sleeve of his t-shirt. He’s smiling, pearly white teeth on display. You find that you’re still watching him as he brings a bottle of beer to his lips and takes a swig. 

You’re only snapped out of your trance when he looks in your direction. You quickly divert your eyes, but you aren’t quick enough. He catches your gaze for the briefest of seconds. You might be imagining things, but you swear you see the corner of his mouth curl up into a smile before he looks back to his friends - still laughing and yelling about something.

The sun has finally set and you decide on having one more of the fun, tropical drinks before heading up to your room. 

You prepare to flag down the bartender, surprised when you find him already stopping in front of you, one of the cocktails you’d been drinking in hand. 

“Courtesy of the gentleman at the other end of the bar.”

You quickly thank the bartender and look back to the other end of the bar where the group of guys had been sitting. They’re the only men sitting at that end of the bar.

The brunette is already looking at you. He gives you a million dollar smile and shoots you a wink before he turns, following his friends back into the hotel.

You sit in shock for a solid minute, replaying the wink over and over in your mind. Sure you’ve got a solid buzz and you haven’t been laid in a long time, but even if that wasn’t the case, you’re sure it would’ve been just as sexy. You’re only slightly ashamed of the small amount of wetness you feel in your panties.

You down the free drink and head back into the hotel. On your way to the elevator, you notice the man that’s been occupying your thoughts for the last 30 or so minutes standing at the reception desk. His hair is wet and his clothes are soaking through. 

You quickly make your way to the elevator and repeatedly press the up arrow. You’re not sure where the sudden embarrassment is coming from, but your cheeks are red and you don’t want him to see you right now. 

Unfortunately for you, you hear footsteps behind you and turn to find the same piercing blue eyes you had met across the bar staring back at you. 

“Friends stole all the towels out of my room,” he tells you, holding up a stack of fresh ones.

Well that explains why he was at the reception desk, also why he’s soaking wet. 

“Oh,” you manage a small chuckle as you look down at your feet. 

You can’t help but feel embarrassed when he’s looking at you so intently, like you’re the only thing on his mind right now. It doesn’t help that he’s one of the most handsome men you’ve ever seen and he’s talking to you of all people. 

You force yourself to meet his eyes again, “Thank you, um, for the drink earlier,” you manage in a somewhat steady voice. 

 “Course, doll,” another smile. 

The elevator doors finally open and he extends his arm, “After you.”

He follows you into the elevator and presses the number five. 

“What floor are you on?” he turns, waiting for your response.

“Same as you, apparently,” you smile up at him. 

You weren’t close enough to tell before, but he’s tall. At least six feet. 

“I’m Bucky, by the way. Sorry ‘bout leaving before I could introduce myself earlier, but my friends were being a pain in the ass - pardon my language.”

You tell him your own name and he holds out his hand. You put your hand in his and expect him to shake it, but what he does next surprises you.

He gently raises your hand to his mouth and presses a soft kiss to your knuckles.

“Pleasure to meet you,” he rolls your name off his tongue, still holding your hand.

You try your best not to make it obvious that you’re swooning over this man. Heat returns to your core at the feeling of his rough hand engulfing yours. 

The elevator bell dings, letting you know you’ve reached your floor. Bucky carefully drops your hand as the doors open. The two of you step out of the elevator and he stops.

“I’ll be seeing you around,” he says, holding eye contact with you.

“I hope so,” your buzz encourages you. 

You smile at each other and when he turns to head to his room, you do the same. 

“Goodnight, doll,” he shouts over his shoulder before disappearing into his room.

You can’t keep the smile off of your face the rest of the night. You’re in fucking Hawaii. A man straight out of your fantasies had bought you a drink, and he plans on seeing you around. You know it’s too soon to be thinking this, but maybe you’ll find a more unconventional way to relieve stress this week. 

After you wake up and get dressed for the day, you head down to get breakfast from the buffet. You load your plate and find a table. You’re in the middle of chewing a bite of waffle when you see Brock. Him and a woman, you assume it’s Marissa, are grabbing plates and getting into the breakfast line. 

Brock doesn’t notice you until after him and the woman have gotten their own food. You watch him as he scans the room for a table, his eyes eventually landing on you. 

He calls out your name and leans down to tell the woman something. 

“So glad you’re here! Are these seats taken?” he asks, not waiting for a response as he sits down, leaving the woman to follow. 

“Go ahead,” you say. You’re somewhat glad to have some company, even if it’s a little awkward.

“This is my fiancée, Marissa.”

“So nice to meet you,” she offers her hand and you shake it. 

Breakfast is filled with awkward conversation. You and Brock catch up a little bit, telling each other what you’re up to these days. After a few minutes, Brock pulls out his phone and doesn’t put it away for the rest of the meal. You talk to Marissa about the wedding planning and do your best to seem interested as she talks about flower arrangements for ten minutes. 

Eventually, conversation lulls and you take the opportunity to get up. 

“So nice catching up with you, Brock. And nice to meet you Marissa!” you say, heading to your room.

You decide on heading to the pool today and change into your bikini. It’s a black set that shows off your body without being too skimpy. You throw some clothes over it and grab your book before stepping out of your room. 

Before you reach the elevator, you hear your name being called. You turn and see Bucky standing by his door.

“Where are you headed to?” 

“I’m gonna go lay by the pool for a bit, wanna join me?” you answer, not sure where your courage is coming from.

Bucky grins as he responds, “Nothing else I’d rather do.”

You feel your face heat up.

“Lemme put some trunks on and I’ll meet you down there?”

“Sounds great, Bucky,” you nod at him before slipping into the elevator.

Once at the pool, you grab two towels. By some miracle, you manage to find two empty lounge chairs together. You set your things down and lay the towels over the chairs. You strip out of your clothes, leaving you clad in only the bikini, and apply sunscreen before laying down. You put your earbuds in and close your eyes and bask in the sun. 

Maybe it's the sunshine, maybe it’s the fresh ocean air, or maybe it’s something else entirely, but you’re feeling the happiest you’ve been in a long time. You notice that instead of your usual RBF, you've been smiling almost constantly since your arrival.

When you open your eyes, you see Bucky standing a few feet away from you, steel blue eyes raking up and down your body. 

“Oh, Bucky,” you pause your music, blush returning to your cheeks, “how long have you been standing there?”

“Shit,” he says your name, realizing he’d been caught staring, “I swear I just got here like ten seconds ago. I’m so sorry. Feel free to revoke my invitation because I was being a creep,” he grimaces, expecting you to be mad at him.

The way he looked at you was different than the way most men would look at you in a bikini, though. It wasn’t gross or pervy. It looked like he was genuinely just appreciating your body, rather than plotting how to get you into his bed. And he didn't make any disgusting comments or cat call you like other guys have in the past. Besides, you'd be lying if you said you didn’t get a boost of confidence from the way he looked at you.  

“Hmm,” you put your finger on your chin, pretending to mull it over, “I’ll let you sit down, but only if you buy me another drink first.”

That familiar grin spreads across his face again. 

“You got yourself a deal. You want another one of those gross cocktails you were drinking last night?”

“Um, excuse you, Mr. I’m too manly to drink cocktails, but I’ll have you know those were delicious.”

He chuckles and promises to be back shortly before walking toward the bar. 

You play your music and wait for him to return. After a couple minutes, he returns holding a colorful, fruit filled cocktail and a beer bottle.

Bucky takes his seat next to you, beer bottle in hand. He lets out a sigh of relief as he lays back in his chair. 

“So, not to be rude, but is Bucky your real name?”

“My full name is James Buchanan Barnes, if you must know. All my friends and family call me Bucky.” 

You nod and take a sip of your drink. 

“Man, it’s hot,” Bucky takes a drink from his bottle before setting it down and reaching down to grab the bottom of his shirt. You find it’s your turn to stare as he pulls it over his head, exposing tan skin and rippling muscle. Bucky gives you a cocky smirk when he notices you staring with your drink frozen midair, on its way to your mouth. 

You quickly avert your eyes and feel the familiar dusting of pink return to your cheeks. 

“Like what you see, doll?”

You simply shake your head at his teasing and smile, flustered as can be.

“So what do you do for work, Bucky?”

“Well I was in the army until a couple years ago. Now I’m a mechanic, I got my own shop with my buddies.” 

You make a mental note to thank the army for mandating PT as you watch a drop of sweat roll down Bucky’s washboard abs.  

“Is that who you’re here with?”

“Yeah. Me and Steve have known each other since we were little, actually. We met Sam when we joined up and after we all got out we opened up shop together,” a reminiscent smile plays upon his lips. “Those two knuckleheads are basically family. We decided to take a trip to celebrate the shop’s one year anniversary.”

“Speaking of family, do you have any?”

“My, uh,” his brows furrow, “my dad died when I was little, but I have a mom and a sister who’s a little younger than me. About your age, probably.” 

His expression returns to normal in a split second, “Enough about me. Do you have family?”

“Yeah, but I moved away for college and never went back home.”

“Where’s home?”

“Ohio. I live in New York now.”

Bucky seems almost excited at this bit of information. 

“Is that so?” he raises an eyebrow. “I live in Brooklyn.”

“Me too,” you share a smile.

Needing a break from the sweltering sun, you stand and grab your drink. 

“I'm getting in the pool, care to join?”

Bucky wordlessly stands and follows you to the pool, smiling. You walk down the steps, drink in hand. Bucky, however, stops at the edge of the pool and watches you. 

“You coming in or what?”

“In a minute, doll.”

Surprisingly, the pool isn’t that crowded. It’s huge, so the people that are in the pool are able to spread out and stay out of each other’s way. 

It’s only once you’re standing in the pool, water up to your bikini top, that Bucky decides to enter. 

Via cannonball. 

You register what he’s about to do as he jumps in the air and wraps his hands around his knees and you yell at him, Barnes don’t you dare! but it’s too late. Next thing you know, you’re drenched. Your hair and face are soaked and there’s pool water in your drink.

Bucky emerges from under the water, smirk dancing across his lips. His expression falters for a second when he notices your angry expression, but you can’t keep the smile from your face when he shakes his hair out like a wet dog. 

“You ruined my drink.”

“I’ll buy you another,” he says, taking the drink out of your hands and setting it on the edge of the pool. 

He walks closer and closer to you until you’re just inches apart. He tentatively moves his hands under the water until they’re resting on your bare hips. His grip is soft, barely there. He’s giving you a chance to reject his touch, but all you do is gently move into his hands. 

His grip becomes more firm and his eyes light up with a glint of mischief. Before you know what hit you, you’re being lifted out of the water, Bucky’s muscles flexing as he raises you up. Before you have a chance to stop him - as if you’d stand any chance against his nearly super human physique - he launches you back into the water. 

When you emerge from the water, you see Bucky nearly doubled over laughing at the angry expression on your face. You really do try your best to be mad at him, but his shimmering smile and the crinkles in the corners of his eyes makes it hard. 

“What. The. Hell,” you make your way back to him and move to smack his chest. Bucky has quick reflexes, though, and you find that your hand is trapped between one of his own and his muscular pec. 

“That was revenge for the way you’ve been staring at me all morning when I’m unable to do anything about it.”

You try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach at his flirty words in an effort to keep up your mad facade.

“What if I drowned Bucky?” you deadpan.

“Wouldn’t let that happen,” he says matter-of-factly. 

“Well, you’re still a jerk.”

“A jerk who’s talking to the prettiest girl in this resort,” he counters with a shit-eating grin.

Bucky drops his hand and, instead of moving yours away, you wrap both your arms around the back of his neck. 

“Not for much longer if you pull another stunt like that, Barnes.”

“Sorry, doll,” the amused grin he’s still sporting makes you doubt his apology.

His hands return to your hips and he pulls you closer. He’s a fair bit taller than you and you have to tilt your head up to look at him. The sun is reflected in his ocean blue eyes and water drips down his face, getting caught in the scruff spanning his jaw. 

Bucky leans down and lifts one of his hands to gently grab your chin between two long fingers. He softly directs you toward his own face. You can’t stop your eyes from flicking down to his pink, pillowy lips. You close the rest of the distance on your own. 

Bucky is quick to kiss you back after your lips meet his. He caresses your lips with his own and he moves his hand to the back of your neck, pressing you against him harder. He swipes his tongue across your lips and you part them for him. You let out a small moan into his mouth and he gently takes your bottom lip between his teeth.

He pulls away, letting your lip free. You feel a throb in between your legs when he gives your neck a quick squeeze before letting his hand fall back to his own person. 

“Fuck, doll. Don’t make me throw you into the water again.” He waits until he thinks you’re not looking before reaching down to adjust his swim trunks.

“You started it,” you reply as you make your way to the steps and climb out of the pool. “I need another drink,” you make sure to sway your hips as you walk back toward the bar, not needing to look back to know he’s watching. 

You lean against the bar and are waiting to be helped when you suddenly feel a hand on your hip. You turn around and expect to see Bucky, only to be met with the sight of a man you’ve never seen before.

“Can I help you?” you remove the man’s hand from you.

“Nice bikini, baby. Lemme buy you a drink,” the slur in his words and his unsteady stance letting you know that he’s certainly not sober.

“No, thanks,” you turn back to the bar, making it clear you’re not interested. 

The man either doesn’t get the hint or decides to keep trying anyway, because you feel both his hands land on your hips this time. He steps closer to you, his chest pressed up against your back.

Just as you’re preparing to throw an elbow into the man’s ribs, you feel his hands being ripped off of you. You turn around to see the man falling to the ground, Bucky standing over him. 

“Get up,” Bucky demands, looking down.

The man, surprisingly, manages to get back on his feet and gives Bucky a death glare. Before he has a chance to give Bucky a piece of his mind, as you’re sure he was about to, Bucky grabs him by the collar of his shirt and leans into the man’s ear. He says something too quiet for you to hear and emphasizes it by using his grip on the man’s shirt to shake him. A few people around you are starting to stare.

The man’s face goes slack and he nods in response to whatever Bucky had said. Bucky shoves the man away and he nearly falls to the ground again. Bucky stares him down as he turns and walks away. Once he’s sure the man isn’t coming back, he returns his attention to you. Thankfully, everyone’s attention seems to be back to whatever they were doing before the commotion.

“You okay, doll? I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s not your fault, Bucky,” you give him a half smile to let him know you’re okay, just sick of men thinking they have a right to touch you. “I’m okay.”

“You still want another drink? Told you I’d buy it,” he goes to flag down the bartender. 

You gently rest your hand on his bicep and he looks at you “Thank you, Buck,” you hope your genuine expression conveys that you’re not just thanking him for the drink.

He gives you a curt nod, “Don’t mention it. Just trying to be a gentleman.”

A few minutes later, armed with another round of drinks, you and Bucky are making your way back to the lounge chairs.

“So where are your friends today?” you inquire.

“Finally got those punks outta my hair for a little while. They went to hike up some mountain. Or maybe it was a volcano, I really don’t know.”

“You didn’t want to go with them?”

“I-uh,” he rubs a hand across the back of his neck, “let’s just say heights aren’t really my thing,” an adorable redness spreads across his face.

You nod, deciding to spare him any further embarrassment from teasing. The two of you sit down on the sides of your chairs, facing each other. 

“So why are you here?”

You figured the question would arise eventually, but you had been dreading telling him the reason. It just sounds embarrassing to admit that you’re attending your ex’s wedding. 

“I’m actually here for a wedding.”

“Oh yeah? Who’s getting married? Not you, I hope,” Bucky chuckles at his own joke but stops when you don’t so much as crack a smile. His face drops and he stares at you for a second before you notice his expression.

“No. God- no. I’m not engaged, Bucky. Very much single. It’s my ex’s wedding.”

His eyebrows shoot up, “Oh, wow,” you can tell he’s unsure how to respond.

“I’ve hardly talked to him since the breakup a few years ago. We’re on good terms, though. Actually ate breakfast with him and his fiancee this morning.”

“Well that’s good, I guess. That you’re on good terms, I mean. Why did you choose to come? Sorry if I’m being nosy, you dont have to answer.” “No, it’s fine. It’s a little weird, I get it. For the most part, it was a good excuse to take a vacation and hopefully see some old friends. It’s not like I still have feelings for Brock or anything, so I really couldn’t care less that he’s getting married. His fiancee seems nice enough. And things went okay this morning, so I’m hopeful that things won’t be too awkward at the wedding. Plus there’ll be an open bar at the reception,” you crack a smile.

Bucky listens and nods along. “Well I hope everything goes okay. I’m certainly not complaining that you’re here,” he gives you a soft smile.

Sunbathing next to Bucky and sharing laughter-filled conversation leaves you with such a serene feeling that you physically feel lighter and your mind feels clearer. You decide in that moment that this vacation was definitely worth it, you can feel your mental health improving by the hour.

At one point, you doze off and are woken to Bucky’s hand gently shaking your shoulder. You open your eyes and see him leaning over you, radiant smile on his face. 

“Probably shouldn’t stay out here too long or you’ll burn to a crisp.”

You sit up and nod, “Good point.”

You and Bucky get dressed and gather your things before depositing your towels in the proper bin and heading inside the hotel. Once you and Bucky reach your floor, you stand and shuffle your feet, unsure of what to do next. Bucky sets a hand on your arm and you look up at him. 

“My friends and I are going out to dinner tonight and, I’m sorry if this seems weird, but would you want to come with us? You don’t have to say yes, just thought I’d throw it out there,” he has a nervous look on his face and he chews on his lip while he waits for an answer.

You couldn’t be more thrilled at the fact that he still wants to spend more time with you, even though you’d been together a large chunk of the day already. You want to say yes, both because you have no other plans and because you’d love to spend more time with the man in front of you, but you don’t want to seem overly eager. 

“Yeah, I’d like that. Only if you’re sure your friends won’t mind, that is.”

Bucky looks almost relieved and gives you a boyish grin. “Nah, Steve and Sam will be fine. I’m sure you guys will get along great.”

“Okay, Buck, looking forward to it.”

“Can’t wait, doll. I’ll meet you here at seven.”

Bucky seems to hesitate for a moment, but then leans down and places a soft kiss on your lips, which you happily return. He pulls back and heads off to his room.

“See you tonight, sweetheart.”

You decide you have a bit of time before you need to start getting ready for dinner, so you grab your book and sit out on the balcony. You find that you have a hard time focusing on the words in front of you, though. The ocean waves and palm trees blowing in the breeze paired with the distant sounds of laughter and music coming from below makes for a pleasant distraction. Before you know it, it’s 6:45 and you scramble to get back inside and start getting dressed. 

It isn’t until you’re searching through your clothes that you realize you don’t know where you’re going for dinner or how to dress. You only packed three dresses, a sundress, the dress you’re wearing to the wedding, and the one you decide on for tonight.

The black dress comes down to your knees with a slit up the thigh. It’s tight and shows off your curves. The back is open, with straps crossing in the center of your shoulder blades. The cut in the front is low enough that it shows off your cleavage while maintaining a classy enough appearance. 

You decide to dress it up with heels - also black. They’re only a couple inches tall, so you can still walk in them somewhat comfortably. You’re thankful that you packed a decent selection of jewelry and throw on some silver earrings and a necklace.

You take a quick look at yourself in the mirror and can’t help but smile - damn you look good. You grab your clutch and open your door. You nearly walk into Bucky as you step into the hallway. 

Bucky is wearing tight grey dress pants with a snug-fitting short sleeve black button up. The first few buttons of his shirt are undone, giving you a peek of the toned chest hiding beneath. He’s paired the outfit with a black belt and matching shoes. He speaks before you have a chance to compliment him.

“Doll,” he looks you up and down, eyes wide, “wow. You look gorgeous.”

You feel yourself flush as you thank him. 

“You look really good too, Buck. Where’s Steve and Sam?”

“I told them to wait downstairs for us. Wanted to prepare you for them. They can be a bit,” he pauses, searching for the right word, “much, sometimes. I told them to be on their best behavior tonight. They just have a way of embarrassing people, Sam especially. I’m sure they’ll be teasing me nonstop, so just ignore anything they say.”

You chuckle lightly, “Don’t worry, I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

You and Bucky step into the elevator and take turns sneaking glaces at each other. Just before you reach the ground floor, Bucky leans over you, effectively trapping you between him and the elevator wall. Even in your heels, he has to lean down to be eye level with you. “I mean it, doll, you look stunning,” his eyes search yours, “Can I kiss you?”

You respond by closing the distance between the two of you. He reaches up and places a hand on the back of your head, holding you to him. The feel of his soft lips on yours makes you forget where you are. All too soon, the elevator door is opening and before you and Bucky have a chance to break away from each other, you hear a whistle.

“Damn, Barnes! Moving quick!” 

Bucky quickly steps away from you but stays in front of you, shielding you while you take a second to collect yourself. 

“Shut it, Sam,” Bucky says sternly. You don’t miss the red that creeps up the back of his neck. Nor do you miss how his tight pants do wonders for his ass.

After a second you step out from behind Bucky and extend a hand to the man, deciding to play it off.

“So you must be Sam,” you introduce yourself as he shakes your hand.

“Nice to meet you,” Steve responds when you shake his hand.

Steve and Sam lead the way out of the resort and you trail behind with Bucky. 

“We heard about this place some locals recommended that’s supposed to be really good. We’re gonna take a taxi there. That okay with you?”

“Sounds great,” you smile up at him.

The four of you wait in front of the resort for the taxi. 

“So,” Steve says your name, “you really spent all day with Bucky and he hasn’t made a fool of himself yet?”

“Whoa whoa whoa, I never said that. He’s lucky I’m even here right not after he threw me into the pool earlier. Although he did almost get into a fist fight defending me, so I guess it cancels out.”

Sam gives Bucky a grin, “Attaboy.”

“When me and Buck were younger, I used to get myself into all kinds of trouble and Bucky would have to end up kicking some dude’s ass for me almost daily,” Steve reminisces.

Bucky huffs and nods his head, “Punk dragged me into all kinds of trouble. Believe it or not, he wasn’t always this big. Needed to help him out or he woulda ended up bleeding out in an alley somewhere in Brooklyn.”

Steve’s cheeks heat up, but you have trouble picturing the man in front of you as anything other than he is now - huge and intimidating. 

After a couple minutes of getting to know Steve and Sam a little bit, the taxi arrives. It’s a five seater car, Steve sits in the front with the driver and you, Bucky, and Sam climb into the back. Bucky sits in between you and Sam. The car is plenty roomy enough, but Bucky makes sure to sit close enough that his thigh is pressed up against yours. The drive is short and Steve pays the driver when you arrive. Everyone gets out of the car. Bucky offers you his elbow and you link your arm in his. He leads the four of you into the building.

“Hi, we have a reservation for Barnes.”

The hostess leads you out back to the outdoor seating and your jaw drops. The palm tree surrounded patio is right on the beach and you have a perfect view of the sun setting on the water. Fairy lights and tiki torches give the place a soft glow. A live band plays soft Hawaiian music on a stage. 

Once you reach your table, the hostess sets down menus and silverware, before heading back inside. Bucky unlinks his arm from yours and he pulls out a chair for you. Before you sit, you turn to him.

“Bucky, this place is beautiful.”

“Glad you like it, darling.”

You sit and Bucky takes the seat next to you. By the time you snap out of your awestruck trance, Sam and Steve are both holding menus and arguing about something. You go to pick up a menu and notice Bucky’s eyes trained on you. He gives you a smile before looking down at his own menu. 

The waitress comes to take drink orders and the three men all order whiskey. You decide to get something other than a fruity cocktail.

“I’ll have the same,” you say when the server looks to you. 

You notice the way all three of their eyebrows jump at your choice. The waitress leaves and Bucky gently sets a hand just above your knee. He turns to look at you, as if asking for permission and you give him a reassuring smile. Conversation flows and when the waitress returns with the drinks, Sam and Steve immediately take a sip of theirs. Bucky’s eyes fall on you as you raise the glass to your lips. You keep eye contact with him as you take a drink, holding a straight face. You see of flash of something dark flash in his eyes and he moves his hand higher up your thigh and gives it a firm squeeze. 

You continue to read the menu and decide on seafood - you have to, you’re in Hawaii - and so does everyone else at the table. It is the restaurant’s specialty, after all. By the time the waitress comes to take your order, the four of you are all getting along great.

“So you guys all work on cars, huh?” 

“And bikes,” Sam nods at you.

“Do you guys all have motorcycles?” you glance around the table.

“Yeah, we do,” Bucky confirms.

You can easily picture him leather-clad, thick thighs straddling a Harley and his hand resting on the throttle. The thought makes you clench your thighs together and, based on the way Bucky’s thumb begins to rub circles into your thigh and he smirks at you, you assume he notices. 

“So what do you have planned for the rest of the week?” Steve questions you, oblivious to Bucky’s hand on you underneath the table.

“Well I’m going snorkeling tomorrow. I also want to hit the beach, maybe take a surf lesson. Horseback riding and hiking sounds fun too, though. What all have you guys done?”

“Well,” Sam starts, “we just got in yesterday, so we haven’t really done much yet.”

“Oh, so you guys got here the same day I did, then. When are you guys leaving?”

“Saturday, how about you?” Bucky answers you. 

“Sunday morning.”

“I’m sure you’ll be sick of Bucky by then,” Sam chortles.

Thinking about spending the rest of the week with Bucky puts a smile on your face and you hope he wants to spend more time with you, too. Eventually, the food comes and you all dig in. It’s so delicious that you’re not even mad about how expensive it was. Bucky lets out a groan of delight as he takes his first bite. 

“This is so good, doll. You want to try?” 

You nod and he raises his fork to your lips. He feeds you a bite of his food and you agree, it is delicious. You pull your attention away from Bucky just in time to see Sam whispering something into Steve’s ear, to which Steve chortles and nods.

“What are you guys talking about?” Bucky returns his attention to his friends.

“Nothing, man,” Steve dismisses him.

Bucky shoots them a warning look but drops it. 

The rest of the meal is filled with stories from their time in the army and Steve informs you that Bucky was a sergeant. You’re thankful that they don’t pressure you with too many questions about your boring life back in the city. The conversation flows easy and after a couple more rounds of drinks, the four of you are laughing so hard that you’re drawing attention from other tables. When everyone finishes eating, you excuse yourself to the bathroom and find your waitress. You give her your credit card, insisting that she charges the bill to your card.

You’d been having a great time with Bucky and his friends so far and you wanted to thank them for inviting you to have dinner with them. They had been so welcoming to you and have made your trip less lonely, even if only for one night. You return to the table.

When the waitress comes back to your table, she returns your credit card to you and the three men share a confused look.

Bucky cocks his head at you, “Did you pay for yourself already, doll? I was going to.”

“She actually covered the whole table,” the server informs them before leaving.

“Wait, what? You paid for us all?” Steve asks in disbelief.

Sam looks to you, waiting for an answer. Bucky just looks at you, brows furrowed. 

“Yeah. I just wanted to thank you guys for being so inviting. I enjoyed hanging out with you all tonight,” you look down at the table, feeling almost as if you’d done something wrong. 

Sam says your name, “That was really unnecessary, but thank you. We enjoyed your company. We get sick of each other, it was nice to have you join us. I really appreciate it.”

“Yeah,” Steve concurs, “I’m glad you could come. You really didn’t have to do that, but thank you, sincerely.”

“It’s not a big deal, guys. It was no problem.”

You turn to look at Bucky. He’s still in the same position - eyes trained on you and brows furrowed. You worry you’ve done something wrong and gently reach between the two of you and take his hand in yours. He gives your hand a reassuring squeeze and finally speaks. 

“Thank you,” you can tell there’s more he wants to say, though. Your group stands and heads to the front to wait for another taxi. After you step out the front doors, Bucky softly grabs your arm, holding you back. Steve and Sam continue walking. 

“Thank you for paying, I really appreciate the gesture. But I invited you tonight because I enjoy spending time with you and I wanted you to meet my friends. You shouldn’t have had to pay for your own dinner tonight, let alone everyone else’s. I do appreciate it, though, and I know Steve and Sam did too,” he gives you a sincere look and you sheepishly look down at the ground. He lifts his hand to cup your face and tilts it up to him, forcing you to make eye contact. “But all that being said, don’t you dare try and pull that again,” he says in a more authoritative tone.

You feel a wetness forming in your panties at the soft yet demanding tone he uses. You’re too shocked at the sudden dominance that you can’t bring yourself to do anything but nod up at him. 

“Good girl,” he praises in a low voice.

“You guys coming or what?” you hear Sam’s voice call.

You hadn’t even realized that taxi had arrived. Bucky leans down and presses a kiss to your lips before leading you to the car with a hand on the small of your back. Bucky sits inbetween you and Sam again and rests a hand on your thigh, dangerously close to slipping underneath the hem of your dress that had ridden halfway up your thighs. All you can focus on the whole car ride back to the resort is the feel of Bucky’s calloused hands on your leg and the pulsing at the apex of your thighs.

After what feels like hours, the cars pulls to a stop in front of the resort and you step out of car, followed by Bucky, who places his hand back on you immediately after he gets out. Steve and Sam make conversation, Bucky occasionally making a noncommittal grunt in response. After the elevator brings all of you to the fifth floor, Steve and Sam say goodnight and thank you again for dinner. You don’t miss the way Bucky’s hand tightens around your hip when they mention you paying for dinner. You say goodnight to them and they look at Bucky, probably expecting him to say goodnight and follow them back to their rooms. 

You’re not quite sure what you expect Bucky to do, but all you know is that the tension is thicker than Bucky’s biceps that are currently straining against his shirt sleeves.

“I’ll catch up with you guys in a little bit,” he tells his friends without taking his eyes off you.

“Okayyy,” Steve drags out the word as him and Sam turn and walk away, muttering and laughing to themselves.

Once you and Bucky are alone in the hall, he gently backs you up against the wall. He leaves one hand on your hips and tangles the other in your hair. He pulls you into a kiss that you fervently reciprocate. You’re sure that your panties are soaked at this point. You clench your thighs together, desperate for some friction. Bucky spreads your legs with his knee and slots his thigh against your center, forcing your dress to rise up. You moan into his mouth at the relief and buck your hips into him, your drenched underwear are dragging across his pants and you’re sure they’ll leave a dark spot from your arousal. 

Bucky pulls away from the kiss, but pushes his thigh harder against you. He leans down to whisper in your ear. “Dirty fuckin’ girl,” his voice is filled with lust, “Rutting up against my thigh in the middle of the hallway, skirt up so anyone can see how soaked your panties are for me.”

You whimper into Bucky’s ear. It turns you on to hear such filthy things coming from his usually polite mouth.

“Please, Bucky,” you beg, desparate for release.

“Please what, babydoll? Tell me what you need,” he demands.

He presses his bulge into your stomach and you can’t string together a sentence.

“I know, honey. You just wanna come, huh?” he looks down at you with a pitying expression and you nod your head so hard you get dizzy, too fuzzy-headed to care how desperate you look. He chuckles at you, “Say it. Tell me you need me to take care of you.”

“Please, Bucky! Make me come, take care of me. Just do something, please!” you sound absolutely wrecked and the groan Bucky lets out while he rocks his hips into you lets you know he gets off on it. 

“Fuck. Unlock your door, princess,” he tells you, pulling away and waiting by your door.

You’re surprised at how quickly you manage to dig you key card out of your purse and open the door in your aroused state. As soon as the door is open, Bucky grabs you and spins you around to face him.

“Jump,” he orders.

You drop throw your purse onto the table and wrap your arms around Bucky’s neck before jumping. He catches you by the backs of your thighs and effortlessly carries you to the bed, peppering kisses along your face and neck the whole way.

He throws you onto the bed and pulls off your shoes, placing a kiss to each of your shins. He then flips you onto your stomach and unties your dress. The way he manhandles you so easily sends a fresh gush of arousal to your core. He helps you shimmy out of your dress as he kicks off his shoes. You’re left in only your panties and he takes in the sight of your practically naked body and groans. He uses one hand to undo his belt and uses the other to reach down and palm your breast. 

“Goddamn, babydoll. No bra?” 

You don’t have the mental capacity to explain that you wouldn’t have been able to wear one with the open back dress, settling instead for reaching up and pulling him down by his collar until he’s straddling your hips. He leans back and unbuttons his shirt, exposing his broad chest and defined abs one button at a time, throwing it to the floor when he’s done. He has a dark trail of hair leading down into his dress pants where you can see the large outline of his hardened cock. He leans down atop of you, veiny forearms resting on either side of your head. 

He snakes a hand down between the two of you and dips his fingers in the waistband. “Can I take these off, babydoll?”

You nod and reach to his neck, trying to pull him down for a kiss. Much to your dismay, he doesn’t budge. 

“Need words, honey.”

“Yes Bucky, please.”

“Good girl,” he rewards you by leaning down and pressing his lips to yours.

His hand makes its way beneath your panties and he runs a finger through your abundant wetness, dragging it up to your clit. He uses your slick to rub circles into the sensitive bud. He pulls away from the kiss and you try to chase his mouth. He stops you by holding your head to the mattress with a hand on your jaw. He squeezes your cheeks until your mouth opens. He looks down at you and spits directly into your mouth.

“Swallow for me, baby.”

You follow his order without a second thought. Once you swallow, he brings his hand down to your neck. He rewards you by bringing a finger to your entrance and slowly pushing into your tight hole. 

“Fuck, doll. I wanna be in this perfect little pussy. Do you want that? Want me to fill you up with my big cock? Wanna feel me deep inside you?”

“Yes, Bucky! Fu- I want it so-fuck so bad.”

He quickly adds a second finger and begins pumping them inside you at a brutal pace. His hand on your throat tightens ever so slightly and he watches your face to gauge your reaction. When your eyes roll back into your head and your pussy clamps down on his fingers, he grins and tightens his grip a little more.

The lack of blood flow to your head makes you feel fuzzy in the best way. You feel yourself getting close to your orgasm. Bucky keeps his pace as he fucks you on his fingers and keeps a careful eye on you, watching for the telltale signals of your climax. When he sees you squeeze your eyes shut and feels your pussy clench, he pulls his hand out altogether. 

You look up at Bucky and loosens his grip on your neck, but keeps his hand resting there. You buck your hips up, your orgasm fading away rapidly. Bucky uses one hand to pin your hips to the bed.

“Bucky, no,” you whine, “I was so close.”

“I know, doll,” he gives you a mischievous smirk. “You were a bad girl earlier when you paid for dinner. You’re supposed to let me treat you. Let me take care of you. You wouldn’t let me take care of you then, so I’m not sure I should take care of you now.”

“Bucky please,” you beg, “Won’t do it again, promise. Just-nngh just take care of me please. Need you to make me come,” you hope your pleading is enough to convince him.

Bucky lets out a deep groan and smashes his lips against yours. He makes his way down your torso, stopping to pay special attention to your nipples. He ever so softly bites down on your nipple and you thread your fingers through his hair. He continues to trail kisses down your stomach. When he reaches your panties, he places wet kisses against the soaked fabric. You try to buck up into his mouth, but his hand is still pinning you down.

Finally, he reaches into the waistband of your panties and you raise your hips, allowing him to pull them down your legs and throw them on the floor with your dress. You get another glimpse of the rock-hard bulge in his dress pants and you know that can’t be comfortable for him, but his attention is all on you right now. He makes himself comfortable between your legs and uses his hands to spread your pussy apart, getting a good look at it.

“Fucking perfect. Prettiest damn pussy I’ve ever seen, baby.”

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, his lips are on you. He sucks your clit into his mouth and flicks at it with his tongue. You grab onto his hair with one hand and grab the sheets with the other. The screams you let out are almost pornographic. He alternates between licking your arousal up from where it’s seeping out of your hole and giving your sensitive clit attention. In an embarrassingly short amount of time, you feel yourself returning to the edge of the orgasm you’d just been denied. 

He laps at your core and uses both hands to hold your hips down onto the bed. When your heavy breathing and the movement of your hips give away your oncoming orgasm, he pulls away again. 

“NOO,” you practically scream, on the verge of tears. “Bucky,” you sob. 

“That one was for giving me a hard on at dinner when you downed that whiskey.”

Before you have a chance to complain anymore, he places one last kiss on your clit and stands from the bed. You watch as he undoes his pants and they pool at his ankles. You can see a wet spot on his boxers where he’d been leaking precum. He drops those too and you’re met with the sight of him. His cock bobs up against his stomach.

He’s thick and long, with a patch of dark curly hair at his base. The tip is pink and shiny with his arousal. Your mouth waters at the sight and you want nothing more than to lick it off, but he crawls back onto the bed before you can make any move to do so. He hovers over you and you can feel the weight of his cock resting on your lower stomach. 

“You want this, honey? Want to come all over my cock? Want me to fuck you so hard you can’t walk in the morning?” he ruts against your stomach, waiting for a response.

“Please, Bucky. ‘S all I want. Ah- fuck. Need it so bad. I need to come.”

“I got you, sweet girl,” he gives you a reassuring look as he grabs his base and guides himself to your drenched core.

He pushes his fat tip into you, watching your face for any signs of pain. You’re so wet and aroused that he almost slides right in. You try to push your hips down, desparate to feel him deeper. He’s quick to pin you down again. 

“Greedy girl.”

He eases himself into you at his own pace until his hips are flush against yours. You feel his pubic hair rubbing at your clit and begin to claw at his back, needing him to move.

“Fuck me, Bucky. Ah- god damn it,” you look up at him with pleading eyes, “Need you to move, baby.”

For the first time tonight, he listens to one of your demands. He slowly pulls all the way out, letting you feel every inch of his cock before he slams back in so hard it pushes you up the mattress. He braces himself with one arm on the bed and holds your hip with his other hand and sets a brutal pace. He thrusts deep and hard, tip pounding against your cervix with every punishing thrust. He moves the hand on your hip to rub at your clit.

“I’m not gonna last long baby. Fuck- be ah- be a good girl and come for me.”

You’re not far off and when he hits that spongy spot inside of you, you let out a scream. 

“Fuck, right there!” you pant.

He rubs at your clit and thrusts into your g-spot. You feel yourself hurdling toward your orgasm for the third time tonight. Except this time, when you clamp down around Bucky’s cock, he redoubles his efforts instead of stopping. You see stars when you reach your peak and you drag your nails down Bucky’s back. 

“Such a good girl for me, fuck. Where-ah where do you want me baby?”

“Inside, Bucky, please,” you want to know what it feels like to be full of his cum. “I’m on the pill.”

“Fuck, doll. So fucking good for me. My girl’s so good.”

You don’t miss the way he calls you his girl. And you certainly don’t mind it.

Bucky’s thrusts become shallow and his pace falters. He slams into you one last time and buries himself as deep as he can before shooting hot ropes of his seed into you. Once he empties his balls into you, he leans down, bracing himself on his forearms so as not to crush you. He slots his lips against yours and the two of you share breaths as you come down from your highs.

Once the two of you have caught your breath, he slowly pulls out of you. He places a kiss on your forehead and walks to the bathroom. You eye the dimples in his buttcheeks as he walks away. He returns shortly with a wet cloth and kneels between your thighs. He gingerly cleans his mess, aware of how sensitive you are. 

When he finishes, he throws the cloth onto the floor and climbs up the bed to join you. You climb under the sheets and fold them over on the other side, offering Bucky the space. He happily lays down next to you and pulls you into his chest.

“You’re beautiful, doll. I hope you enjoyed that as much as I did.”

“It was so good, Buck,” you manage to respond in your exhausted state. 

“I’m sure you’d enjoy it more if I didn’t have to punish you, too,” you can’t see his face, but you know he has a cocky smirk on his face.

“You’ll have to show me, then.”

“Oh, believe me, sweet girl, I plan to.”

You fall asleep against Bucky’s strong chest, his hand scratching soothingly at your back.

[two-white-butterflies]

F1 MASTERLIST

MAX VERSTAPPEN

that funny feeling - max verstappen soft-launches you.

do i wanna know? - max verstappen dates tony stark's daughter.

champion of the world - rumors spread around about you and max breaking up. (sainz!reader)

call it what you want - max verstappen proposes. (ricciardo!reader)

to keep me warm - he ends up dating a superstar. (singer!reader)

the last time - you wanted to be his priority, is that to much to ask? (indie-actress!reader)

invisible strong - (ex-driver!reader) (prema racing team principal!reader)

she's poison - your relationship is exposed and no one believes that max is dating you. (it-girl!reader)

down in florence, alabama - daniel ricciardo's sister gets cheated on by carlos sainz. she heals and dates max.

you won't forget me - max verstappen attends an event - coincidentally his ex girlfriend plays her new song.

monopoly go - he attacks you on monopoly. you find him on facebook. turns out he's hella famous.

blue bannisters - domestic bliss. (short)

imgonnagetyouback - he ends the relationship with a phone call

FERRARI BOYS

i love you in the morning - charles leclerc and his racer girlfriend.

violets for roses - you break up then get back again. (neurosurgeon!reader)

jasmine wind - toto doesn't approve of your boyfriend. (wolff!reader)

they don't know about us - charles gets online hate. (singer!reader)

foolish one - your relationship gets exposed in the weirdest way. (verstappen!reader)

tolerate it - you break up with charles and date max.

no time to die - after a messy breakup with charles leclerc. you resort to feuding with him online. in where, he hates your guts.

archer - after a series of instagram posts - your ex-friend fabricates screenshots that almost end your career. (singer!reader) (reputation themed)

nothing else matters - the internet hates you

is it over now? - you reminisce about a relationship that wasn't meant to be.

loss of my life - you are the biggest superstar. you break up with your longtime boyfriend. it's lonely at the top. (singer!reader)

who could ever leave me, darling? - carlos sainz supports you. (singer!reader)

lover boy - carlos gets jealous when someone hits on you. (lawyer!reader)

lucky one - you get attacked by paparazzi's and carlos goes into full protective mode. (actress!reader)

old money - carlos meets your parents, while twitter discovers your identity. (heiress!reader)

the last time - you date carlos after dating max. (actress!reader)

don't need no side chick - you release a song about him.

ibalik ang korona sa espanya - filipina reader who studies in UST.

we would've been - carlos sainz' childhood friend

smart sexy lacy - three years after that horrible breakup with charles leclerc; now you're dating his teammate. what happens when certain deals are levied upon you? will you follow through or go back to what you're used to?

three billion, you're the one - you create a song after breaking up with carlos. (singer!reader)

take her home - he meets a woman on the internet and dates her. (doctor!reader)

it was all yellow - hidden/secret baby trope

the city of love - your wedding ring falls into the seine river.

RANDOM

drug - toto wolff meets his girlfriend's parents. (horner!reader)

only a genius - toto wolff gets jealous. (actress!reader)

i love that man - toto wolff is dating an ex model.

what was i made for - you are toto wolff's ex wife, and the internet tries to push you back into each other's arms. (model!reader)

killer queen - the formula one grid love your food. (chef!reader)

i can see you - you try to keep the relationship a secret with daniel. (redbull-admin!reader)

mastermind - Ms. L/N turns to Mrs. L/N. In which, you ponder where you've been - and where you are now.

dress to impress - you are a dress to impress streamer.

she's random - kimi raikkonen is dating the most unhinged girl in existence. (singer!reader)

beat poetry - kimi raikkonen dates a girl who's basically lana del rey. (singer!reader)

the most beautiful girl - after a decade long hiatus, you return with kimi as your husband.

hectic inside - lando norris finds love in monaco.

best friend - lando has a crush on you, and everyone knows it.

feels impossible - lewis hamilton's wife is a filmmaker that belongs to a prominent film-making family. (coppola!reader)

Set in an au universe. I don't do smut in this, only fluff and blurbs. All scenes and blurbs that are written are not related to their real life - if by some reason, it seems related - that is coincidental. I don't tolerate sexualizing the f1 drivers.

I strictly do social media aus.

[coolprettyleo]

the jokes weren't funny. - connor bedard ☆

wc: 627

tw: filming, drama, sadness, mean comments

ryan leonard x ex oc

connor bedard x oc

death by a thousand cuts au

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

frankie hughes felt like she couldn't catch a break for the life of her.

no matter how many times the girl thought her life was finally getting better, it only seemed to turn around and smack her right back down.

she sat in the las Vegas hotel room in tears as she read through the comments about the latest TMZ article that, of course, had to do with her.

someone had filmed her and connor outside the bar last night as they waited for their Uber, and the video was quite interesting, to say the least.

it started off with the two of them drunkenly dancing around from the muffled bar music, obviously intoxicated, which seemed to cause a stir amongst the media, seeing as they were both underage and were supposed to be 'role models'. it only got worse because the two young adults seemed to forget they were in public and made out with each other against the wall a little later on into the video.

the comments were brutal, and she couldn't help but think she deserved every single one.

what happened to her and ryan? they were so cute.

omg she's cheating

puck bunny at its finest

leonards too good for her anyways

why do i ship

maybe it wouldn't have been such a big deal, but people still believed she was with ryan. they hadn't given anyone to believe they were over, they hadn't unfollowed each other or removed the pictures of each other from their social media, so it was understandable why the world thought she was a cheater.

she had definitely felt like one. her heart still belonged to ryan, but she was sure he would want nothing to do with her once he caught sight of the video.

she felt completely helpless, so she resorted to doing nothing but curl up into a ball and cry. wondering why the hell she was the way she was.

she was cut off from wallowing in self-pity when her manager, darcy, called. knowing it was going to be nothing but a scolding, she answered because she most likely had a solution.

"hello?" she answered a bit timidly.

"hello. I'm assuming you've seen the video, and I'm calling to tell you it's going to be fine. you were bound to have a scandal at some point; I'm just happy it isn't rehab yet. anyways, we have two choices, we can put out a statement on your behalf, or you unfollow and remove every picture of ryan from your feed," darcy rushed out.

"I don't- I don't want to do that," frankie said, feeling tears begin to sting her eyes. she felt like that would make the breakup so much more real, and she knew she wasn't ready to do that yet.

"I'm afraid you don't have a choice, honey. you're still on the rise, and a big scandal this early into your career won't go well. it's better to put out the fire before it gets bigger," darcy explained to her.

"I just feel like it will blow over if we, like, let it," Frankie said.

"it wouldn't just blow over! unless..." darcy thought as frankie waited. anything would sound better to her at this point.

"i mean, i would have to get in contact with his team, but I'm sure they'd be on board. the internet loves a good crossover, just look at taylor swift and travis kelce-"

"what?" frankie asked, confused as to who or what she was saying.

"we could make the public think you and ryan have been separated for a while now," she said

"and how would we do that?" frankie asked, scared to hear the answer.

"you get into a pr relationship with connor bedard, of course!"

[ladylarynn]

Alleyway Affairs

Summary: The last you heard from Astarion, he told you to "die screaming." Months later, you find each other again. Only this time, deep in the city, in an alley under nightfall. Perhaps, he will bleed you dry. Or perhaps, he has other plans for you.

Rating: E

Word Count: 7.2k

Pairing: Astarion x you (fem!reader)

cw: 18+ REVIEW THE TAGS! established relationship pre breakup, post ending for BG3, blood drinking, exhibitionism, p in v, creampie, explicit consent, angst, additional tags posted on ao3

read on ao3

or keep reading below <3

It is in the end— after the blood had been shed, the world nearly ended. When you are once more alone, companions returning to their new obligations or new plights, when you are left with kind consolation and heavy goodbyes.

The city sleeps, yet often you do not. Residing at differing inns from night to night, you attempt to lead a life nameless once more. A lack of sleep, a predilection for forgetting. Perhaps that is also what led you here, entering a tavern prevalent in profound impropriety and bottomless drink.

The ale is a warm rush of current down your throat, a haze settling inside your mind. The scintillating fireplace of licking flames cast rhythms of shadow across unfamiliar faces.

You’re here on business… or rather, pursuing a whisper of opportunity. It isn’t unnatural to be stood up in this line of inquiry. Not many mages boast of wish spells, and even fewer know how to get their hands on one.

You had managed to not resort to needing Gale this long… so. Other avenues became necessary.

At least that is what you keep telling yourself as you keenly monitor the door.

One door close, and you pick lock it open, but your years in this line of work were hells bent on survival. Not miracles.

Yet, your miracles are not here. At least, one of them doesn’t show. The other you hope won’t.

You groan, cradling your head with your hands, then kneading balled fists against your eyes. The man eyeing you from across the bar coughs to conceal his sudden disinterest. Who can blame him? You’re pathetic.

“The deal is still on the table. You play your part just like you used to, and I help. The hero act wasn’t going to last, you know. Coming here is a testament to the matter.”

You grip the handle of your mug, your drink swishing to and fro. It all but topples over onto the front of your undershirt as you raise it to your lips. You take deep gulps, liquid dribbling down your chin. You smear it away.

You cannot get drunk quickly enough.

However, as the hour plays on, you begin to curse your tolerance of drink, as well as everything else gone wrong in the past months.

Fuck.

Gods, surely there is no use to this anymore—

A honeyed voice pollutes your buzz. It is a suave soliloquy, with syllables like rose petals. It wafts in the air, laughter silk soft with an undercut of severity. It prickles up your posture, and you are shrouded in thorns.

Fuck.

As sly as you may, you cast a glance over your shoulder, and there he is.

Without the tadpole's defiance of the sun, Astarion was thrust into the night once more, cavalierly caviling at the young man draped under his arm. The man is of noble build, with embroidered robes adorned in maroon and amethyst gems. The noble’s cheeks are a flush delight fueled by the splendor of Astarion’s charm.

The sight is the sea collapsing into you, wave after wave. Breath sealed in sinking lungs. You will drown if you don’t look away.

There are two awful realities to unfold before you.

One, how dismayingly odd the noble is for someone of Astarion’s taste. Just met his prime, early twenties, broad shoulders, and bright-eyed. These types were the kind Astarion would toy with until they bristled and cried. Not the kind he’d be involved with.

You swiftly shift to stare into your half-empty glass. A shiver stills your sigh.

Unless of course, the context of taste meant something entirely different.

Then it was most certainly his type.

You take a swig.

Second.

Astarion is philandering.

With your intended mark.

You shouldn’t look again. But you must be sure. On first inspection, the noble fits the bill all right; medium height, thin build, pale eyes, hair, and skin. The description checks out, everything but the—

A cacophony of swooning laughter manages to reach your side of the tavern.

“He laughs like a hyena.”

You turn, slow as if that will help conceal your gaze. It doesn’t.

Crimson eyes meet yours, and dread pollutes your surroundings, your thoughts, and your breath. Your stomach drops, the skin of your arms pebbling as a chill slinks its lips down your spine.

This is not how you planned the night to go.

There it is again, the clutch of your gut, the crater burrowing itself into the trenches of you.

You had not died— screaming, as he had last proclaimed. The reminder of those words, dripping in contempt, brazen in believed betrayal. They had marred your thoughts and sought to spoil the solace of your soul. The severance of your last encounter had sunk its teeth into you, chewed sinew, and spit out the scraps.

Astarion.

He whom you had given everything— anything— for. Gone. Never to be seen again.

But he is here— and you… you realize you really shouldn’t be.

You can’t be.

The mark can wait. There will be other nights.

Within a fluid movement, you set your mug aside, reach into your pouch, and spill gold coins across the counter. You make haste from the bar to the entrance. You slide behind shoulders and wade through strangers cackling and clinking cups unaware.

Even so, you feel him watching you.

The tavern bell chimes. You cringe with the acknowledgment it calls forth to you. The breath in your lungs constricts, the agony in the urgency to flee from his line of sight too much to endure.

Why is he here? Shouldn’t he be in the Underdark?

Did recognition pass across his countenance? He could have seen you but not see you.

This is the only comfort you can indulge in as you quicken your pace, the city lamp yellow hues sluicing and splaying across the street.

You’ve sobered up. Yet, everything is spinning. Swaying. Turning inside out.

You’re panicking.

A bell chimes and footfalls patter behind you. You don’t even need to look. The thought is nauseating. How well-versed you are in the sound of his steps.

“I hope you die screaming.”

It resounds in your mind just as he calls your name. It sounds foreign. It sounds like a memory. Like a dream, you never wake from.

You have half a mind to keep walking, roaming further into the city and into the surrounding, comforting dark.

He could want to make his past proclamation true.

Perhaps you’d let him if only to be rid of this ache.

This burden you bury beneath your smiles and behind your eyes, the loss of him you carry in your voice.

How it is known by all who know you.

“I didn’t think I would find you alone, in my time of the night. Where are your companions, darling?” His tone tinged in disdain; his darling laced with ridicule. There is a slow decline in breath. It staggers still in your lungs, like tangled strands caught in dragging dingers. Is it dread? Is it grief? Perhaps it is a touch of mourning.

You know now what you knew the last you spoke— you are the bearer for all that did not come to fruition. You are the reason he won’t say our companions. Our friends.

And though you loathe yourself for losing him, though you blame yourself for all the things you previously thought you were sheltering him from. You cannot endure this in silence any longer. Not when the chance to confront him is here.

Who are you to run away? You have spent your whole life running.

This isn’t imprisonment. This isn’t a life sentence.

Yet… isn’t it?

You can’t go on like this. You haven’t been.

You whip around, and Astarion stumbles into you. As you collide— his scarlet eyes widen, and a flash of recollection startling your pulse. The effect of being this close isn’t lost on you. You can see, even under the dim lanterns glow the crease of his brow, the wrinkle in his nose, the dip of his cupid’s bow. But just as sudden, he steels himself, stepping back and straightening, a glint in his glare, wrath warping his mouth and brandished on his tongue.

You muster the will to speak before he can.

“They were your companions as much as they were mine,” you bite back, though the spite of it makes you hesitate. Whatever you feel doesn’t matter.

“But…” you sigh, then start again, “that matters not…” you offer.

Your companions who watched you wither away the moment he left. Companions who offered you condolences yet spoke in passing of how things may have been different— for Astarion’s fate. It was blameless yet… how could they have not blamed you? And maybe that is why when it was over, you pushed them all away.

That is why you offered goodbyes in place of being a part of the next journey.

Karlach’s hand on your back, Shadowheart’s curt smile, La’zel’s tense jaw, Gale’s exasperation, Wyll’s sorry nod.

You’d never known family—let alone friends. So why grieve yourself over it?

Even if you gave all you could, even though you had killed yourself to keep the world.

It means nothing now.

All you can do is make him see sense. All you can do is convince him to listen, to hear you. You just didn’t think it would happen this soon when you are unready. When you are still angry— at yourself, at him, at everything.

“What matters is that I am sorry,” you plead, and Astarion teeters on his heel, bombarded by your insistence. But you can’t stop. Even if he thinks you are pathetic—distasteful or blunt.

Your hurt is too deep. You remember the vitriol in your supposed lover’s voice. You remember scrubbing your skin raw after the battle with Cazador. You remember numbly thinking if that was all you always were to him. A plot for protection. A ploy for power.

Hadn’t he said as much?

“I’m sorry how things ended. Now if that is all you wanted, let us be on our way,” you bitterly retort. You mean to turn your back on him, on all of this.

But just as sudden, the verses of carved intent burn at the inside of your wrist.

Dammit.

A contract is a contract.

Even if you walk away. Your past self has condemned you.

Abruptly, his cold, nimble fingers curl around your forearm. His filed nails nip into your skin— though the pain doesn’t end there. His touch burns through you fields of forlorn faith of anything different than the vile sure to leave his tongue.

He is incredulous.

“You’re sorry? You’re sorry? That’s all you have to say to me? Are you sorry to be reminded of how you refused to help me despite stating you would? How you ruin any chance of me ascending, of being more than my captor? You’re sorry?!” He bellows out, the way he does when things are far too outrageous to constrain within a reasonable decibel.

The words stick like tar and taste of arsenic. He must have rehearsed a version of these lines before, as he always made sure to hone his skill of slights. They puncture the air with each consonant, every vowel, as he draws you in closer.

His presence encircles you, a predator playing with its prey. He could end you here and now, drain you of all you are.

As if he hadn’t already.

You yank your arm away and vociferate back.

“I ruined your chance at becoming Cazador. You couldn’t see it. You wouldn’t. The spawn aside, you would have been damned. I love—” a near concession you barely manage to conceal, “I loved you,” you finish.

Dammit! You love him. His mean proclivity. His budding vulnerability. His gentle rebuffs. The sly quips, the grandiose turn of phrase, the sharp smiles, the soft uncertainty of palms alleviating parts of you that were left derelict. When the others slept, you’d glide your fingers through his strands of hair, humming quiet, close, gentle. You never knew if he truly saw you in the same way— as if you were precious as if you were his new comprehension of eternity.

It is why you’d been willing to risk your reputation to pay repentance. To earn some semblance of forgiveness.

Even if you had to become what you once were…

He wouldn’t have to.

And that is enough. Yet—

Yet, you blink and blink it back.

You can’t cry- not like this. Not now.

“I was trying to…” it almost tumbles from your tongue. Save you. That is what you mean to say. But it feels wrong to say it— it felt wrong even then, even if that is what you meant to do, even if it was done with intent rife with compassion, with desperation to help him. You know, deep down, he will despise you further if you admit it. You hadn’t wanted to fix him, but in that moment, you knew love would never heal him. Nor power. Not vengeance.

It was through choice— a choice you seemingly made for him.

So, you halt yourself. Shake your head, and turn away.

“Love?!” He sputters at your confession in disbelief. You hadn’t told him that before. It was never the right moment, or perhaps you feared rejection. Even if you had said it countless times, like the mantra pounding in your heart, would he have ever believed you?

He grips your wrist this time, preventing you from even daring to leave.

“I needed you. And you went back on your promise.” He says indignant. “I should kill you for what you took from me.” He gestures towards the blade sheathed at his hip and for an instant you… you wouldn’t mind if he did.

You’ve been beaten, bloodied, beguiled, spurned. What is left of you after the fight for the city? Victories wrought with death, a closure that did not fulfill. All of it was done with a broken heart.

Deep within, you cave.

How did we become this?

Your features crumble, brows pinching together and tears beginning to burn, threatening to descend your cheeks. You’d never let him see you cry. He’d heard you before… held you as you shook beside him. But never would you show your face. It was too much. For anyone.

Except… the night he left. In front of the others— you wept.

You cannot retreat into the night, for he knows the dark better than you. You had thought he’d known you better.

In the thralls of morality, you finally had the chance to do right by the world. So, you tried. Always.

It’s why he disliked you once. It’s why he cared for you later. It’s why he detests you now.

“Then go ahead Astarion, kill me if you must. But I… I love you with all of me. I promised I’d help you defeat Cazador. I never said I’d aid you in ascending. And you know— you had known I wouldn’t.”

It is a dagger through your heart, the tears have come, yet you cannot hide.

You’d said it.

Love. Not loved. Not the past tense, but the current, the now, the always, the evermore.

For a moment you think he didn’t hear you, didn’t believe you, or thought it a lie. With his proficiency in deceit, shouldn’t he recognize the absence of it?

Astarion’s resolve begins to crack. His lips twitched downward, his jaw tense. The watery remorse seeping into your voice makes him shutter, makes him step back. He clenches his fists, his eyes shutting tight. It’s as though he’s fighting— against what you say— against what has become of you both.

He opens his eyes, on the verge of tears.

“You had no right to refuse me,” he jabs his finger toward your chest, his words are crumpled, falling apart, “you said you would do what I needed.”

“I thought I was doing what you needed,” you insist, hands puncturing your wavering intonation, “That I— I couldn’t do what you wanted. And for that— I am sorry… I am sorry.”

You begin to cradle yourself, backing up, treading away from this… demise of you.

You mutter while meeting his eyes again.

“I know what you want now. I promise you will never see me again.”

Just as the others.

As soon as it leaves your lips, his hands are on your arm, at your wrist. He drags you down the dim alleyway between the tavern and the inn. He seizes you against the opposing wall, your body caged by his, your spine straightening to the cool press of brick.

He is all-consuming, a tidal wave. The moonlight combs through the waves of his hair and coruscates in the gleam of crimson irises. You inhale the aroma of his skin, and it riddles you speechless, the notes of rosemary, the undercurrent of bergamot and cinnamon intoxicating.

Anchoring you to the spot, Astarion is seething.

“No,” he pauses, squeezes his eyes closed, and shakes his head in contention before clenching your wrists tighter, pale red ringlets sure to form. “You don’t get to cry… you betrayed me. Maybe I didn’t become Cazador, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t become much worse.” A mirthless smile snags at the corner of his lips. He scrunches his nose, as if in disgust.

“Don’t look at me like I’m the one who did that to you. Don’t tell me you love me now.”

You steel yourself. You know the game he is playing all too well. You can’t let him see the wound he’s prying wide open, even if your heart is plummeting to the abyss inside your chest, even if your stomach churns.

You step into his space, causing him to flinch, his sneer slipping from his smug face. You murmur quiet, kind.

“You were afraid. I know. But power would not have quilled your fear. No one would hurt you more than you would have hurt yourself. You would have become everything you despise, and I couldn’t watch it happen.”

His grip has lessened. He looks at you with timid uncertainty.

Your voice hardens.

“You can hate me for it. You can kill me for it. But I never wanted to hurt you.”

What you say lingers in the air for a long moment. He regards you with an inscrutable expression.

But it shifts. It morphs. It becomes impenetrable, unknowable. Astarion does what he does best. He withdraws within himself. He counters with defiance.

“The path to the hells is paved with good intentions, my dear.”

You gasp as he releases your wrist, then bring his deft fingers to glide over the underside of your jaw. You shiver, ensnared by the sensation of his sharp nails, his thumb pressing against the seam of your lips, parting them ever so slightly. He drags his thumb over the plush of your bottom lip, and the breath strangled in your lungs releases in a broken sigh, his touch igniting a memory, only known by your skin.

He surveys you with a raised brow, with prowling eyes. His eyes peruse your body as his other hand descends your forearm, nails tracing an aimless motif. Fingers flow from there to the bend of your waist, featherlight over the fabric of your blouse. He curls his palm snugly on your side, thumb positioned beneath the underside of your breast. He can feel your inhale beneath his splaying fingertips. You exhale shakily slow, clinging to the façade of indifference. He tilts his head with a tsk of disapproval, then gently grips your chin.

He flattens his palm over part of your cheek and jaw, slanting your head. He brushes your hair aside, unveiling your neck, then skims his lips over the shell of your ear. He is so close, so familiar. The sanctuary of this nostalgia overcomes you. His cashmere voice is a susurration for surrender.

“Say you’ll let me,” he coos, and the sweet redolence of his presence pervades your senses. Yet, you must try to resist, even when his fingers at your side wade up and down, soothing, and — tempting. When his lips press beneath your ear, then over your pulse, warmth cascades down inside your core, and your knees buckle. You feel the heat bloom between your thighs, your sanity yielding from this all-encompassing yearning.

He drags his fangs over the nape of your neck yet does not bite. Instead, he hallows his cheeks and begins to suck, a violet blossom blooming into your skin beneath his mouth.

You tremble against him, another gasp fumbling from your lips.

“Oh.”

You feel him smile as he hums against the hollow of your throat in approval. Your hips jolt toward his, and you inhale brokenly as his arousal presses to your stomach. It is straining against the fabric of his trousers, firm and full.

Your lust threatens to unravel all sense. Your mind is in the mist.

Latching onto your heavy gaze with his own, he repeats himself.

“Say you’ll let me.”

He says it with resolute intonation, yet an inkling of doubt tinges the end of his sentence. It is not a command, though not a question either. Perchance, he is not sure for which he implies. If he is struggling with who he has created himself to be, or if he is still the Astarion you knew.

Never treading too far, too close, without reassurance. Yet, here, and now, he treads the line of persistence in proving to you the error of your ways. The error in endeavoring to see him, to know him for all the beautiful, the soft, and the gentle. For forgetting who he was made to be. For thinking ascension would be the thing that would break him when he, himself, is too far gone.

You ache with the love you have for him.

“Show me the kind of man you’ve become,” you reply, calm, “Why ask for permission?”

He hesitates for a moment, doe-eyed and dazed.

Then, he decides.

He tilts his head, looking at your lips.

“I wasn’t.” Astarion states, with a cadence of wavering insistence, and with it, you sink lower into the surrounding night.

Your body tensing, your pulse quickening.

His fingers leave your side and weave into the strands of your hair. He pulls your head into a slant once again, causing the nape of your neck to become completely and utterly exposed. The markings of his kisses are scattered along the skin, like that of his own design.

The moonlight swims in his half-hooded gaze, glints off his fangs, and fills you to the brim with trepidation.

There is a sudden, stark stillness in your body.

He mutters, insouciant, “I’ll bleed you dry.”

His breath is a warm flush on your skin, and then his fangs delve deep.

“Ahh!” you hiss, sagging into the adjacent wall. His lips enclose, as he begins to suck a stream of your blood into his voracious mouth. He is harsh in his thirst, his Adam’s apple bobbing with every thick swallow of your blood he takes, the tug of your hair eliciting a dull pain.

Despite this— a sinful sense of pleasure saturates the pain, as it always does when he feeds. Your pulse, heightened, like an orchid in full bloom, beating a deafening rhythm. It is reverberating in your ears, in your temples. Your fear once formidable now fleeting, flowing away with each draw of your blood to his lips.

The euphoria of feeding envelops you in a lukewarm embrace, milky mind a mirage. His grip eases on your hair, and he steadies your jaw with caressing fingers, the rush of your blood now a slow, steady pull from your veins. The effect of drinking entrances him, and you feel the hum of his moan, the lulling of his languorous lips.

It is as though you are being anointed, touched by phantom palms in all the places you yearn— the heat building beneath your skin like a fever that will burn you alive. Your voice, a lilt of his name, shivery and silver. He hmmms against your neck, and your fingers find their way into his curls, trailing your nails through his strands and over his scalp.

He groans, deep in his throat. It is just like the way he used to, those many months ago.

It is like your head is floating, the fever a flavor you sought to forget— but there is no forgetting, not when it is etched into the marrow, into your soul. You want him. So much, you are distraught with want, the heat coalescing at your core, seeping down your inner thighs.

He unlatches his mouth, just to mutter, voice drenched in desire, “I can taste it. You’re so eager for me.”

“I— I don’t—” you whimper in response, biting your lip. But as you try to deny—

Astarion holsters your wilting body up and shifts his knee, pushing it between your thighs. The friction is not nearly enough, yet all too much. You try to resist, yet all sense has vanished. You succumb to him, rolling your hips against his knee, aching for relief. Astarion’s breath catches in his lungs, and though your eyes have fallen shut, you don’t know if it’s to solely focus on the chase of a teetering high or to escape the city’s midnight mussitations. Maybe it is to memorize the motion of hips, the silk of his sigh, the bend of his fingers clenching and unclenching on your waist. It’s building and building, a relentless sea in the mellow meringue of his dipping vowels, the thrumming of this heat enough to drown in.

His knee drops, and despite yourself, you let out a faint whine. You think it is on purpose, a cruel way to deter your relief, yet he grips your hips and pulls you flush against him.

He feels so good, heavy, and thick, snug against where you need him most.

He grinds into you with every sashaying sigh, his head drooping into the crook of your neck. His dulcet exhales tremor through you, showering your head from toe. Your toes curl inside your boots, and your hands clench in fistfuls of his hair.

You don’t know how far this will go— especially here, only concealed by nightfall.

If it remained like this, insatiable, yet… safe. Not crossing the line…

Just as the thought nips at you, Astarion is wedging down the sides of your trousers inch by inch, your mound of curls peeking out from your underwear. He means to feel you, to know the wetness between your thighs. You clench them together, suddenly shy, sheepish at him having evidence of how eager you truly are, how completely he’s undone you with only this continual grazing of his hips, a brush of his lips to the shell of your ear.

You part your thighs, just barely enough for him to flatten his palm and curl his knuckles around your cunt, fingers a touch away from delving between your folds. Yet— he doesn’t. He hovers his fingers there. He is waiting for something yet can’t quite admit.

You know.

You nod, ever so slightly, and give in, letting him set the pace, letting him ascertain what he needs from you.

“Please,” you say, trying to withstand shifting into his touch.

His chest rises and falls. His ring finger slides over the seam of your lower lips, thumb a featherlight swirl around your clit. He teases his middle finger between your folds, sinking slowly until he is knuckle-deep. Your hands leave his hair and find purchase on his shoulders. Your head sways and you bite your bottom lip, stifling a moan.

“Mmmn—“

“You like this?” He says, not unkind. He gently pumps his finger in and out, in and out. A leisurely tempo of sweet torture.

“Yes.”

He lifts his head to look at you, crimson irises a thin ring, his pupils blown wide.

“You want more, don’t you darling,” he encourages you in a sly teasing tone, with a lilt of consideration.

“Yes—“

His ring finger pushes in, and you adjust to the width of them both. Your heartbeat is like a crescendo, as his fingers glide, soaked in your arousal. Again, and again, they pump into you, increasing in pressure, in pace. His thumb twirls over your clit, lazy circles compared to his fingers.

Your nose scrunches, your nails dig into his shoulders. He coos into your ear, praises of you sound so insatiable, such a good girl.

It’s coming, you know it when your hips begin to jut forward sporadically, the coil tightening in your core about to snap. Sizzles of stars pepper behind your eyelids, and stream down your spine.

But can you be quiet enough? What if someone hears you? Sees you?

The inkling of worry must show on your face.

“Just focus on my fingers,” he soothes, “on my voice.”

His thumb massages over your clit, and you gasp out a fragmented version of Ah—starion.

“Let me make you cum, sweetheart,” he susurrates, “you’re so beautiful like this. Clenching on my fingers, whimpering my name.”

His reassurances are relentless, and you tip over the edge of oblivion, rashly muffling your moans into his shoulder, into the fabric of his shirt. Waves of white wash over you, pulse thrumming in your chest.

It is pooling in your core, soaking his fingers, and dripping down his wrist.

You hear him give a shaky breath, wrought with longing and saccharine anguish by your release.

“I want you… I… I can’t— I need you,” he admits on impulse, his fingers sliding out from you, drenched. You tremble at the loss of them, nearly delirious in your post-high. His words make your core clench, make you feverish once more.

Does he mean to take you? Right here? Right now?

A concoction of concern looms over you, and you lift your head from his shoulder. You glance at him, then dart your gaze from one side of the alley, a dead-end brick wall, to the other side. The street before you is devoid of life, no Flaming Fist patrollers, no drunkards huddled in dusk. The lanterns give a dim glow, swaying in the cool breeze. Nevertheless, the light cannot reach you here. Though, surely someone will leave the tavern once the hour’s shade dissipates, to flee home from a brawl, or to sluggishly crawl into bed.

You look to him once more, and again it is as though he reads your mind.

“I know,” he sounds pained, head drooping. By the tension of his trousers, the shut of his eyes, perhaps he is.

“I won’t… we don’t have to,” he quietly assures, and it is so unlike the bravado of before. It is delicate.

You see him, the Astarion you had once been devoted to. Ready to fight for, to die for. And although it may lead to disaster, to the unraveling of your very being, you have never been surer.

This evidently wasn’t only about lust. If it had been, he’d have left you by now for your mark in the tavern. He wouldn’t have followed; he wouldn’t have touched. To be this close had always been a rarity done out of a need to be cared for, adored, to be cherished. Though he may never love you, though he may be planning to hurt you in a way worse than death, you… if only for tonight…

Your palm caresses his cheek, and you meet his eyes.

“I want you,” you murmur, “I’ll be quiet.”

A breath and his eyelashes fall over his eyes as they watch your lips. He leans in close.

“Let me hear you,” he states, then his lips are on yours. The seal of his lips eases the weight of hesitation from your skin, his honeyed mouth in harmony against yours. His tongue slides over the seam and you part your lips, tangling your tongue with his. His needy palms are at your waist, gripping and pulling you nearer as he angles his head, deepening the kiss. You nip at his bottom lip, and he groans in his throat.

You briefly come up for air, panting with the metallic aftertaste of your blood lingering on your tongue. A chill hits your exposed skin as he anchors his fingers at your pants once more, tugging them down until they fall to your knees. You step out of them, a flourish of fear amalgamating with shameful escalating arousal. He pulls you in for another kiss, as his fingers begin to fumble with his waistband. You aid in his endeavor, dragging his pants down until his cock can spring free.

You taste his steadying inhale. He breaks the kiss, then hooks one of your legs over his arm, pushing your back further into the wall, deeper into the cocooning shadow.

You are vibrating with anticipation, dripping onto the floor. He presses the head of his cock to you, and you quiver. He nuzzles it over your folds, then glides it back and forth, until it’s slick, until it’s ready.

You look at him, and the array of emotions passing over his countenance is like deciphering a blur of seasons changing. Your chest is heaving. You are fully bare, fully vulnerable, in more ways than one.

You need him so fucking bad, your hips push forward instinctively, the head of his cock nearly dipping inside you. He responds in a low, guttural grunt, hiking your leg a bit higher, bumping the tip of his cock against your sex once more.

“Say it again,” he murmurs, half delirious, half desperate, rolling his hips into you.

His brows are furrowed, white lashes cast over closed eyes. The damask rose of his flushed cheeks, the pink tips of his pointed ears, pale skin incandescent under the moonlight.

He feels so good, so heavy, and thick sliding over your sex.

He looks so beautiful, the corner of his lips smudged with your blood, the scarlet trail disappearing down his jaw.

But it matters not— his body, his beauty. It is all of him, in every way. The meadows of his mind, the lilies of his laugh. The valleys of his voice, the lavenders of his language. The willows of his worries, the serene of sunrise in his smiles—

Your heart could burst outside your chest. Your vision is a stretch of liquid silhouette.

“I love you,” you say, as if it is as natural as breathing, as simple as the sun rising at dawn.

He reacts in a tremulous exhale, nostrils a flare and the arm anchoring your leg falling a little.

A flush of embarrassment flames in your cheeks.

He probably didn’t mean for you to say that again.

An apology is on the tip of your tongue when he repositions himself at your entrance and sinks in.

Inch by inch.

“Ah—!” You gasp, yet his palm is quick to soften the sound as he encloses it over your mouth. You whine into his hand; your eyes rolling back as he sheathes himself inside your wet, hot heat. You squirm slightly to adjust to the girth of him. He doesn’t stop pressing forward until you are full to the brim.

Astarion pulls out almost completely, before slamming back inside. His hand falls a bit from your lips, and as if by instinct you part your lips, sucking his index and middle finger into your mouth. You peek at him with low-lidded eyes, and he curses the gods beneath his breath.

You hum around his fingers as he sets a sinful rhythm of a gradual outward pull, a heavy plunge in. The slapping of skin echoes softly in the alleyway, and it is downright disgraceful, yet you become lost in its soliloquy. He is undoing the tethers of your mind, diluting all sense.

There is no doubt he feels it too, his agonizingly slow pace increasing in intensity, his quiet pants becoming drawn-out moans.

“Gods, you feel so fucking good,” he mutters, pumping himself in and out, over, and over. You think you may go insane. His fingers pop from your mouth, and he takes hold of your chin.

“Look at me,” he instructs, and you comply, though it makes you blush, makes you boil hot in your blood.

“Say it again,” Astarion commands, and you clench around him in astonishment, in a flare of pleasure. You whimper unintelligibly, glancing away, embarrassment steeping in your face as a surge of wetness coats his cock.

He nearly loses control.

“Say it,” he growls out as he slams deep into you again. His hand clasps your jaw, fingers a curve over part of your neck, urging you to look at him once more.

“I love you,” you confess. You feel tears beginning to prick your eyes, as an impending orgasm sears within you something fierce. Your cunt tightens over his cock, you feel him throb.

“Again.” He orders through clenched teeth, thrusts now sloppy, uneven.

“I love… I—” You try to speak, yet the words are a jumble from your mouth. It’s coming, oh fuck… it’s…

“I love you,” you profess, just as your orgasm consumes you in licks of flame, in rivers of euphoric relief, just as—

Fangs. Fangs delve deep into your neck, the shivery silk of your orgasmic high becoming static fuzz, as Astarion begins to drink your blood like he’d gone centuries without it.

You try to speak, but you are left speechless, as with each draw of your blood, you feel his cock pulse inside of you, his body shuttering, his groans vibrating into the hallow of your throat.

Astarion sucks hard, his hips slamming into yours as he reaches his climax. His cock spasms as he releases his seed inside you, droplets of his cum dripping to your feet. The rush of your blood being drained renders you weightless.

He is devouring you, mouthful, after mouthful.

“Astarion—” you plead, fingers clenching in his hair, tugging at his head. He won’t budge, won’t stop.

“Please,” you beg, tears beginning to cascade down your cheeks.

It is as though he can’t listen, as if set in a trance. Your heartbeat starts to slow, your sight fading.

Your grip loosens on his hair. You don’t pull— instead, you graze your fingernails over his scalp, like an ocean wave meeting the shore, trying to remind him, trying to—

BANG.

A door swings open, the sound emitting from the tavern. Astarion jolts, fangs yanking out of your flesh, blood spilling down his chin. His cock slips from you, and you sigh at the loss of him. Your consciousness ebbs in and out. You slump against the wall, almost unable to stand as he drops your leg to the floor.

You feel his frenzied hands at your ankles, yanking up your trousers. You numbly watch his flustered movements as he pries up his own pants.

Foreign voices ring out, an argument of sorts. You aren’t sure.

You aren’t sure of anything.

Astarion is mouthing words at you. His hair in disarray. His eyes glistening in the moonlight. He attempts to keep you standing, while scouring the floor for something.

“Please,” he suddenly sounds so frantic, so afraid. You feel something bump against your lips.

“Please drink. Darling, please,” he implores.

He tips the bottle and something familiar hits your tongue. You begin to gulp it down, the bottle trembling in his hold as you do.

A cool nourishment floods your body, and your senses and your surroundings return to you once more.

A potion of healing.

You drink until the bottle is empty. Though you feel rejuvenated, it is not enough to wholly quell the effects of blood loss. The skirmish down the street seizes your bones in realization, a welcome distraction from what just occurred.

You cannot get caught like this.

You hand the bottle back to Astarion wordlessly, avoiding his eyes. You double-check your body and find at least you are fully clothed. The sticky mess between your thighs and in the crook of your neck, however, brings anything but relief.

“We need to go.” You mutter emotionless, attempting to brush past him.

Could you still scale the wall in this state? It’s a miracle you’re even breathing right now.

Astarion grabs your wrist and says your name.

“You can’t,” he states, and again, he knows your thoughts. It does anything but endear you.

He continues, “Not like this. We need to wait for them to leave.”

“Why?” You bite back in a whisper. “So you can finish me off?”

He recoils with the stab of your words.

Good.

You yank your hand away.

It would have been one thing if he’d just had his meal, but instead, he made sure he had all of you.

You don’t know if it’s him you’re more upset with, or yourself. A sob claws at your throat. You turn away from him, approaching the wall. You begin to scope out a path for your hands and feet.

“It’s your fault.” He declares, and you stiffen, unmoving. You peer back at him.

“Yes. All my fault,” you move towards him, finger jabbing into his chest.

You take your wrist, and without forethought, smear it over the blood still wet at your neck.

You extend it out for him to see. A contract, made in blood, visible only in blood, illuminates in a yellow scrawl of initials on your skin.

“And I have done everything to make up for it.”

His eyes widen in shock. He grips your wrists, inspecting the golden glow of letters.

“Why—”

“A wish scroll,” you don’t let him finish, “I complete the contract, and I get a wish scroll. It could… it could cure you… or at least allow you to live in the sun.”

He drops your wrist, shaking his head in disbelief.

“How many?”

“Seventeen.”

He lets out a breath.

“Only seventeen?”

“Of noble birth,” you state, “though still far better than seven thousand.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration.

A voice rings out from down the street. Someone is calling the nightly patrollers.

You tense and then turn away once more.

“You’ll need me alive if you want that scroll. So, let’s part from here. I’m sure I can find you once I get it.”

“This isn’t you,” he argues, “the hero of the grove, the savior of Baldur’s gate, of the world. You can’t tell me your feelings for me are enough to inspire this.”

“Astarion.” You slide a palm down your face. This conversation is going nowhere, and you’re running out of time.

“There are things about me I never spoke of. That our friends could never know. I wanted to be something different, and I was. But this is more to me than that. You are more to me than that.”

He is silent. Your voice softens. You’re about to cry.

“I’ll see you when it’s over.”

Before he can respond, a CLANG clatters from the street. A rustle of feet, and voices rising. Someone is being arrested.

You don’t waste time to find out. You begin to scale the wall, ignoring the throb of your neck, and the exhaustion of your limbs. You force yourself to climb until you’ve reached the top.

You don’t look back at him. You slide over the other side, then hit the ground running.

You hear him call after you, yet you don’t stop. You won’t.

You run as far as you can, bitterly knowing that when morning comes, at least then you’ll be safe from him.

[jungshookz]

y/n doesn't know how to be petty & jealousy is not a good look on jimin

➺ pairing; park jimin x reader // balletteacher!jimin x ballerina!y/n

➺ genre; balletteacher!jiminiverse!! i think there’s a fairly good balance of honk honk humour and angst and fluff in here but i could be wrong!! seulgi (once again) is a pot-stirrer and you can either love her or hate her for it!! jungkook’s cute and is a really good dance partner!! 

➺ wordcount; 12.1k

➺ summary; surprisingly enough, both y/n and jimin are great at acting unaffected by their devastating breakup — it’s only when they’re reunited two weeks later in class that their nonchalant, callous composures begins to crack.

➺ what to expect; “i just think the respectable move is to wait until we’re done learning, mr. park. or would you like to continue wasting everyone’s time by singling out jungkook and i just because you’re clearly in a sour mood for no reason and seem to be enjoying using us as your emotional punching bags?” 

➺ currently playing on cee.fm; need you now — lady antebellum 

»»————- 🥀 ————-««

the feeling of your phone buzzing rapidly against the mattress is the thing that rouses you from yet another restless night of sleep 

you kept waking up every few hours and every time you woke up you’d be awake for at least another hour before dozing back off 

you’re pretty sure you fell asleep close to six in the morning and according to the clock on your bed stand it’s already 1:30 but somehow you still feel so, so groggy despite getting seven and a bit hours of sleep 

you peel an eye open reluctantly, staring at the bright vibrating rectangle for a few seconds before you drag your arm up lazily to grab it because something crazy must be happening if the group chat is chirping away like this 

you’ve had your phone on do not disturb for the past week (except for the few times lisa clearly hit the ‘notify anyway’ button to get your attention) so you’ve kind of been out of the loop but being present and a functioning member of society isn’t exactly the first thing on your mind 

people are right when they say time just melds together when you’re going through a breakup because you honest to god do not even know what day of the week it is 

“okay, what’s going on…” you mutter to yourself, voice thick with sleep as you roll over onto your back and bring your phone up to your face to unlock it 

it takes you a couple of tries to get into your phone because of how bright the screen is and you curse before resorting to typing in your passcode with fumbling fingers instead 

you haven’t been on your phone too much because… well, you’ve just not really been in the mood to do anything but rot in bed all day with the curtains drawn — and not to mention, every time you’re on your phone you’re just waiting for a text or a call or literally anything from jimin but unsurprisingly it’s been complete silence on his end

you’ve mostly been ordering takeout and also you’re pretty sure you went the whole day without drinking water yesterday, so all in all, it doesn’t seem like you’re handling this very well 

what makes things worse is that you have class today and it’ll be approximately a week since you last saw jimin and the two of you officially ended things and seven days is simply not enough recovery time — you haven’t even accepted the fact that you can no longer call him your boyfriend and that you have to call him your ex-boyfriend now (and teacher, but it’s not like that’s anything new)

i think we should end things permanently, because i want to be in a real relationship instead of whatever the fuck this has been. 

jimin’s words ring loudly in your head and you feel your eyes starting to well with tears for the trillionth time in a row as you mindlessly scroll through all the notifications that have been marinating on your phone for the past seven days 

the only thing you’ve been able to focus on is replaying that last conversation with jimin in your head and it’s driving you up the wall

i never said i was ashamed to be with you, jimin. 

you never had to say it for me to see it. 

“god…” you mutter, reaching up to pinch the bridge of your nose in a poor attempt to stop the tears from flowing 

you haven’t been able to stop thinking about jimin and what makes it harder is the fact that you can’t talk about this with anyone without exposing yourself and jimin 

and as much as you love lisa, you know that if you told her she would of course be concerned about you but would also have a million questions for you and you’re just not in the mood for an interview at the moment 

another thing you’ve been thinking a lot about is what would’ve happened if you grabbed the phone and called lisa when jimin told you to call your friends and tell them the truth

would he have stayed? 

was that really the proof that he needed to show him that you wanted to be with him? 

would that have fixed everything?

you’d still have to hide your relationship — the only difference that telling your friends would make is that mr. park would be accused of playing favourites and knowing a few of the chatterboxes in class, word would spread very fast and it probably wouldn’t take long until you get an email from the dean asking you and jimin to come and speak to him 

and then either jimin would get fired or you’d be expelled and both those options sound like hell 

with that being said, wasn’t it an incredibly unfair move on jimin’s part to ask you to do that for him? 

what if you’d asked him to call the dean to tell him that you two were together? 

given the circumstances, wouldn’t jimin be hesitant to do it as well??? 

well, you suppose in your scenario it’s a little less high stakes because you’d just be telling a close friend, but still… you did the right thing, didn’t you? 

it was irresponsible of both you and jimin to enter into a romantic relationship when you guys are teacher and student, and you had to put an end to it before the truth eventually came out and tore the two of you apart

this was the right thing to do 

now jimin can continue teaching, and you can continue learning at this very prestigious dance academy that you worked very hard to get into 

plus mom and dad would probably kill you if you got expelled over something as scandalous as this

sometimes doing the right thing feels bad! and it’s okay that you feel very, very bad at the moment, because feeling bad is just a normal part of the human experience.  

you let out a huff of frustration, rolling onto your back as you look up at the ceiling 

…but how do you know if you did the right thing or not? 

you let out a slow exhale, shaking your head as you bring your phone back up to look through all your texts

you can’t help but wince a little looking through all your missed notifications throughout the week

most of your texts are from lisa and you know she’s going to want some kind of an explanation of your disappearance 

from: lisa [wednesday 9:08am] — are you okay? barely heard from you all week 

from: lisa [thursday 6:23 pm] —  ?? 

from: lisa [friday 10:32am] — y/n 

from: lisa [friday 11:02am] — helloooooo some kind of indication you are alive please 

from: lisa [friday 8:14pm] — okay well you’re still sending me tiktoks so ik you’re alive 

your thumb goes tired from scrolling through all of lisa’s texts and you finally reach the end to see that she texted you a few minutes ago 

from: lisa [1:22pm] — are you coming to class today? 

your fingers pause slightly as you think about how to respond and how to act casually about the fact that you’ve been a ghost for the last week 

to: lisa [1:34pm] — yes!! i’m coming 

to: lisa [1:34pm] — SORRY i haven’t been responding to your texts, social battery’s been weirdly low and feeling blegh bc period but i’ll see you today mwahaha 

unsurprisingly, lisa doesn’t take too long to respond because she’s always on her phone and it’s never on do not disturb- 

from: lisa [1:35pm] — hmmmm okayyy hope you’re feeling a little better at least? just glad ur alive! i’ll see u later ALSO read the group chat bc omg i’m dead 

from: lisa [1:35pm] — mr. park

your stomach dips a little in anxiety at the mention of mr. park because the point of looking through your texts was to distract yourself from any thoughts of jimin, but then again, why are you surprised? the girls are obsessed with him and he’s always a hot topic in the group chat 

one time he showed up to class wearing a pair of jeans that made his butt look really good and it was a topic in the group chat for like a week and a half straight 

you switch over to look through the group chat, scrolling up the literal hundreds of texts until you get to what’s clearly the meat of the conversation 

seulgi [best ballerinas 🤍] — You guys aren’t going to believe what I heard

seulgi [best ballerinas 🤍] —  Rmb how I said I’m pretty sure Miss Im and Mr Park are like meant to be 

seulgi [best ballerinas 🤍] — Apparently they were out on a date this weekend

lisa [best ballerinas 🤍] — wtffff NO WAYYY wait where’d u hear it from 

seulgi [best ballerinas 🤍] — One of the guys from Miss Im’s class 

seulgi [best ballerinas 🤍] — He slid into my DMs after their performance 💅🏼 as he should 💅🏼 and then we were texting for a bit and he just told me that he saw them walking around downtown together lmfaooooo I totally called it 

you don’t even bother reading the rest of the messages but through your frantic scrolling you manage to catch a message from seulgi teasing you directly about losing your precious mr. park and- “oh, just give me a break!” you groan obnoxiously, tossing your phone aside before flipping onto your stomach and letting out a muffled scream into your pillow 

great!

good for them!

good for jimin, good for nayeon, good for the happy couple! you’ll have to make sure to ask jimin if you’re allowed to bring a plus-one to their wedding and what colour they want to paint the nursery for the child they’re going to have who’ll undoubtedly be the cutest baby on the goddamn planet- 

the thought of playing hooky and calling in sick so you don’t have to go to class crosses your mind briefly, but then you remember that in order to do that, you’d have to call mr. park to let him know (one time, lisa asked jisoo if she could let him know that she wouldn’t be in class because of a bad cold, and both lisa and jisoo ended up getting mildly scolded because why are you asking your classmate to talk to me for you, and why are you talking to me on behalf of your classmate?) and needless to say, the last thing you need is to talk to jimin and pretend like the only problem you have is that you’re not feeling well and you don’t think you can come to class today 

and not to mention, with this new piece of information of him and miss im going out on a date over the weekend, you don’t want him thinking that he won the breakup because you’re so heartbroken that the only thing you can do in stay in bed and cry (even though technically that’s what you’ve been doing all weekend, but whatever) — as heartbroken as you are, you’re just as stubborn so you will be going to class and you’re going to try your absolute best to keep it together… you have to.

»»————- 🥀 ————-««

jimin splutters after splashing icy, ball-shrivelling cold water onto his face, blindly fumbling for the towel in his duffle bag before using it to pat himself off 

he looks at himself in the mirror, leaning closer and reaching up with a finger to pull at the bags under his eyes

the last time he had bags this bad was when he would stay up all night rehearsing for his own exams 

there’s not enough concealer in the world to hide the bags he has now 

needless to say, this breakup has completely destroyed him and this is the first time he actually has no idea to conduct himself after ending things with someone 

he’s had flings and short relationships all throughout high school, undergrad, and even at the academy, and it usually only takes him a few weeks to fully flush his ex out of his system, but he can already tell that this breakup is nothing compared to those ones 

sure, he was sad after his breakup with nayeon and couldn’t even force himself to get over her for much longer than he’d anticipated, but that was then and this is now — and now, he can fully say that the breakup with you is one of the most devastating things to ever have happened to him 

he’s been so out of it all week that he even ordered pizza for himself on friday night instead of digging into his usual meal of [insert choice of lean protein here], roasted vegetables and brown rice… a family sized pizza 

a family sized pizza!!! a pizza for an entire family!! 

the only time he went out this week was saturday afternoon when nayeon texted him to ask him if he wanted to go out for coffee and also to discuss what they wanted to do for their conjoined class today 

and to be honest, jimin barely remembers what they talked about that day and he’s hoping that nayeon will carry them both through today’s class because mr. park is just not mentally here at the moment 

to be honest he’d kind of been dreading coming to class (can you blame him?) and he considered calling in sick and cancelling class today, but if he cancelled today, that’d mean he’d have to have an extra makeup class next week and- well, he can’t avoid seeing you forever 

it’s just that he doesn’t even know if he can look you in the eye after you basically showed him that you don’t want to be with him 

it’s embarrassing 

he’s heartbroken and humiliated and hurt and you’re basically the only thing that’s been on his mind this whole week 

admittedly it was a little selfish of him to demand you to call your friends to tell them that you were dating him

it was an unfair move on his part and he knows he acted out of emotion, but… well, he just wished that you fought harder to keep him, that’s all 

and it’s true that he always felt like you were slightly embarrassed to be with him — he was never afraid to hold your hand in public and act like a normal couple but it was always a little upsetting to turn and see you cowering down or hiding behind a pair of sunglasses or baseball hat or something to conceal your identity 

he knows that you only did it to protect the both of you from being exposed, but you didn’t have to hide yourself all the time 

you guys couldn’t even go to restaurants without you quietly requesting for a table at the very back to avoid being seen by anyone passing by 

maybe this breakup was for the best, now that he’s had a week to think about it…

sure, his relationship with you was one of the best he’s ever had and he’s pretty sure he’s head over heels in love with you and would 100% say it back if you said it to him, but hey! he’ll get over it one day 

you’re his student, he’s your teacher — it was inappropriate from the start and it was irresponsible of him to pursue anything with you, so this breakup was a good thing 

it never would’ve worked out in the end, and it’s better that it ended sooner or later

this was just a lesson from the universe that he had to learn, and yes, it was a very hard lesson, but he’s always been good at learning and he’s just going to take this as a sign to not get involved with another one of his students ever again!

it was silly of him to think that it would ever work out in the first place, anyway, so if anything, he should be able to move on and move on fast 

easy peasy 

“easy fuckin’ peasy.” jimin clears his throat quietly, running his damp fingers through his hair as he looks at his reflection in the mirror from side to side, “i’m park fuckin’ jimin. top of my class, aced all my exams, youngest and most sought after teacher at this academy,” he puffs his chest out slightly, nodding to himself as he feels his confidence coming back to him

he’s mr. park, he knows he’s hot shit! 

he doesn’t need you to feel complete

he doesn’t need you at all

he hears the voice in his head let out a laugh of disbelief followed by an all-knowing alright, keep lying to yourself if this is how you’re planning on coping with this breakup and immediately shuts it out before bending down to grab his duffle bag, swinging it over his shoulder before putting a pair of thick-rimmed, square framed glasses on 

he forget to order more of his contacts over the weekend so he’ll have to wear his stupid dorky ass glasses today (the memory of you telling him how much you love it when he wears his glasses flashes in his mind and he shuts it out as best as he can, but the thought of getting you flustered today in class with these glasses makes the corner of his mouth twitch in a cocky smirk.) 

»»————- 🥀 ————-««

“wow, look who’s alive!” you jolt in surprise when lisa slings an arm around you from behind, leaning her head against yours with a grin as the two of you continue walking towards the main doors, “period cramps are brutal this month, hey?” 

“yeah, it’s been- ha, not great, you know how it is-“ you press your lips together in a tight smile as you pop your airpods back into the case so you can give your friend your full attention, “sorry i… barely texted you all throughout the week, i’ve just- um-“ you clear your throat quietly, pausing for a second to think about what excuse to give lisa

you feel awful for lying to her about all of this because you know that lisa would never be upset or angry with you and is only here to help you because she’s your friend, but still… the wound is a little fresh at the moment so lying will have to do 

because if you rip this bandaid off right now and she gives you that sympathetic head tilt and shoulder droop and big sad eyes combo, you are 100% not going to be able to make it through this class without completely losing your mind and you are certainly not about to burst into tears in front of your classmates 

“you’ve just what?” lisa nudges your side to get your attention and you look over at her, your mouth still hanging open with no fake excuse sitting on the tip of your tongue 

you’ve never really been good at thinking of things on the spot

you’ve also never been good at lying so there’s that to consider as well 

“i just… i don’t know! weird mood. one of those weeks, you know?” you shrug weakly, lisa’s brow raising slightly before she purses her head and nods slowly 

“no, that’s okay! i was just worried about you, that’s all. but you… know you can talk to me about anything, right?” she holds the door open for you and you offer her a meek smile, swallowing the lump in your throat as the two of you head towards the changing rooms 

“yeah, i know.” you respond quietly, choosing not to say anything else after that even though you know you’re acting very suspicious and you have a feeling lisa knows you’re hiding something from her 

“you excited for class today?” she changes the subject swiftly and you immediately nod even though you have no idea what’s happening in class today, “i’ve been buzzing about it all week. miss im’s boys are so fine.” 

“they’re- oh, we have the, uh- they’re coming to our class today, right? we’re, like, pairing up with them or something like that, right?” you clear your throat, opening your locker door up before sitting down on the bench to take your sneakers off, “yeah, they’re all very nice to look at. that jungkook guy is nice, i follow him on instagram.” 

“oh, jungkook is- mmph-“ you can’t help but giggle when lisa bites her fist, “he’s more than very nice to look at. you should ask him out. he was making googly eyes at you at mr. park and miss. im’s performance.” 

the reminder of that night immediately kills the vibe and you feel your mood drop, but you focus on taking your socks off instead of thinking about i think we should end things permanently, because i want to be in a real relationship instead of-

the sound of lisa’s locker door slamming shut snaps you out of it and you turn to see that she’s already fully dressed and ready to go with her water bottle in one hand and her phone in the other, “you want me to wait for you?” 

“you can go in first! i’ll be a while, i-“ you look down at yourself and your sweatpants, letting out a breath because you’re already exhausted and changing into a leotard is no easy feat, “i still have to change and then i have to pee and stuff, but i’ll see you in there.” 

as soon as lisa leaves, you feel yourself slump as you lean over with your elbows on your knees, your mind immediately spacing out 

you are not mentally here right now and you don’t know how you’re about to go through a two hour class where the main thing you have to do is focus otherwise you get in trouble for it 

“it’s a guy.” 

you immediately perk up when you realise you aren’t alone and you turn to look over your shoulder, your brows knitting together in confusion as you blink up at seulgi before looking back down at your duffle bag quickly and pretending like you were in the middle of going through it, “what are you talking about? and how the hell did you get in here so quietly??” 

“it’s a guy. am i right?” seulgi sighs, ignoring your second question (though you are genuinely curious how she managed to come in without you noticing, or maybe you’re just really really checked out that you didn’t notice her at all) and plopping herself down on the bench next to you before crossing one leg over the other and crossing her arms over her chest, “that’s why you’ve been acting so off all week.” 

“what are you on about?” you snort, though you can’t help but think to yourself how true it is that women are very intuitive when it comes to pretty much anything but especially when it has something to do with men 

and seulgi is the best at figuring things out — especially when it comes to things that are literally none of her business like this! 

“you’ve been weirdly civil with me over text when you usually bite back with something.” she raises her chin slightly, her gaze never leaving your face, “you never just sit there and take it.” 

your eyes flicker slightly and you find yourself unable to look seulgi in the eye for more than two seconds before looking away, and you feel the hairs on the back of your neck prickle when she gives you that one look that screams i’m not going to stop pestering you until you tell me what drama you’re swept up in 

“what makes you think that me being civil has something to do with guy problems?” you blurt out, your cheeks starting to grow pink out of anxiety because now you know that seulgi’s onto you, “also, we rarely text and talk outside of class except for when we’re out with the other girls for brunch or something. why do you care about my texting style all of a sudden?” 

“well, you didn’t deny anything.” seulgi points out, and your hand immediately freezes in your bag upon the realisation that yeah, you didn’t deny anything and seulgi is definitely onto you and is also definitely right because you definitely are going through guy problems right now 

but how much can you trust seulgi? you haven’t even told lisa who is arguably your best friend in the class and also the entire world

“we aren’t friends, seulgi. you don’t have to pretend like you care.” you mutter, voice wavering slightly as your eyes begin to brim with tears because this is the first time someone’s asked you if you’re okay in person and clearly you’re an emotional wreck if seulgi is the one asking and it’s making your eyes tear up 

keep it together, keep it together, keep it together, you remind yourself, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you pull your leg warmers on and quickly reach up to wipe a rogue tear away before seulgi sees you crying 

“so it is a guy.” seulgi hums, nodding her head to herself before clicking her teeth, “knew it. is it someone we know? was it a hookup? long time situationship? did he ghost you? have you been secretly dating someone this whole time and you just got dumped by them?” 

all the blood drains from your face as you turn your head to look at seulgi with wide eyes (nearly snapping your neck in the progress), your lips parting before you quickly shut then and turn back to pull your slippers on 

seulgi’s eyes widen before she blinks rapidly 

no way 

this whole time you’ve been dating someone?! 

to be honest seulgi’s always thought you were a massive prude who would crumble at the sight of a couple holding hands in public so this is actually a pleasant surprise for her 

“no fucking way!” seulgi delivers a harsh slap to your shoulder and you press your lips together, your eyes fluttering shut because fuck, the jig is up and now you have to confess to your sins to someone who cannot be farther away than good and holy, “oh my god. y/n y/l/n, you sneaky, sneaky girl. who?!” 

»»————- 🥀 ————-««

“are those new leg warmers?” lisa looks over at you as you stretch beside her, and you look down at your brand new (grey, with little thunderclouds on them) leg warmers before nodding, “yet another pair for your already extensive collection…”

“well, what can i say?” you chuckle, reaching down to smooth them down a little before shrugging, “i wasn’t gonna get them, but retail therapy always makes you feel better when you’re feeling like shit.” you blurt out, looking up slightly when you realise that saying retail therapy implies that something happened in which you need to make yourself feel better 

…

“retail therapy? what on earth bugged you so much that you needed to buy something?” lisa snorts, pulling her hair up into a ponytail in the mirror 

“probably just dealing with the fact that she knows she’ll never be as good of a dancer as i am.” seulgi butts in, letting out a sigh before shaking her head, “it’s okay, y/n. not all of us were meant for the stage.”

“thank you for the reminder, seulgi. you keep me humble.” you joke, giving her a soft smile and acknowledging her attempt at a distraction with a little nod — you ended up telling seulgi absolutely everything in the changing rooms (but not before triple checking that nobody was around to listen, because that would’ve been a disaster for sure) because… well, it was killing you having to hold everything in! and seulgi, believe it or not, was willing to lend an ear and actually listen for a change instead of blabbing her mouth off like the know it all she is 

much to your surprise, seulgi told you that she wouldn’t tell anyone about this (to be perfectly honest, seulgi thinks it was kind of sick of you to break the rules and date your own teacher, because it’s very unlike y/n y/l/n to do something as taboo as that… she has a newfound sense of respect for you because she would probably also do the same thing if she was in your position because who in their right mind wouldn’t launch themselves full speed at the chance to date mr. park?? but she’ll never tell you that because she knows it would go to your head and you would try to become best friends with her and she’s pretty sure that your relationship works better when you’re frenemies who are constantly trying to one-up each other.) 

“they’re a little… gloomier than what you usually get…” lisa giggles, reaching over to jab a finger into one of the thunderclouds, “still cute, though! and it matches the weather.” you turn to glance out the window, frowning at the sight of the dark grey clouds hanging in the air as the the windows tremble from the weight of chubby raindrops smacking against it rhythmically 

the weather for the past week has been absolutely dreadful and definitely hasn’t made you feel any better, but you have to admit that it was kind of relaxing laying in bed all day listening to the sound of the rain 

“well, the weather is shit, but what makes me feel better is knowing that in a few minutes this room is going to flooded in an ocean of hot testosterone-“ lisa wraps her arms around herself before shimmying her shoulders with a squeal, “aren’t you guys excited?! i don’t know why you aren’t more excited that we basically get a free pass to flirt with boys for the next two hours-“ 

“i’ve got my eye on seokjin,”  ailee chimes in, “god, i would climb him like a goddamn tree.” 

“you know who’s actually built like a tree? kim namjoon. you seen those thighs of his?” 

“well, i’m gonna see if i can get paired with hoseok — i’ve seen him dance, he’s super good. he does hip-hop too, the man can do it all-“ 

“yoongi and i already spoke last time so i’m pretty sure we’re gonna hook up in class and also out of class-“ 

“you guys just stay away from taehyung, because i’ve been eyeing him for so long-“ 

“y/n, what about you?” you feel lisa nudge your back with her foot and you spin around on your bum to face the group, “well, i don’t think i need to ask you who you want to be paired up with.” 

“you seem to be convinced that jungkook was making googly-moogly eyes at me but i’m telling you that he was just being friendly-“

“oh, well- yes, jungkook was definitely making googly-moogly eyes at you and i’m pretty sure he’s going to try to get paired up with you so don’t even worry about that- i was talking about mr. park!”

“wh- what?” your eyes widen slightly and you let out a nervous laugh, “i- what- what makes you think that i- why would i get paired up with mr. park?? that’s not even- that’s not even allowed, i don’t think a student is allowed to be paired up with a teacher for an exercise like this-”

“why are you getting all flustered??” lisa laughs, reaching over to pinch your thigh, “oh my god, i was just teasing you because of the fat crush you have on mr. park, i’m not actually saying you’re going to get paired up with him, dummy-“ 

“even if y/n was paired up with mr. park, she’d probably clomp all over his feet.” seulgi snorts, “besides, she- oh, shit-“ she immediately gets up and you turn to see jimin walk into the room, muscle memory forcing you up from the ground so you can stand with your feet in third position with your hands behind your back next to seulgi 

you feel your heart racing in your chest as the familiar smell of his cologne wafts past you and you immediately look down when he walks past you

you just hope that no one can hear how hard your heart is pounding because you would’ve appreciated some kind of warning before jimin came into the room 

you’re just going to keep your head down and stay in the back of the class for this lesson, and then you’re going to slip out with the girls at the end of class as quickly as you can 

“good afternoon, ladies…” jimin greets lowly as he makes his way towards the front of the room, his voice slightly raspy from the complete lack of sleep he’s gotten 

he drops his duffle bag on the ground as he looks out at the godawful weather, frowning slightly because no one’s responded to him and he thought he taught you guys better than that! it seems like two weeks without class has turned you girls a little sloppy…

“i said, good afternoon, ladies…” jimin tries again, emphasising his tone before turning around swiftly with a tilt of his head, leaning back against the counter with toned arms crossed over his chest, “what’s the matter, you guys forget your manners?”

“good afternoon, mr. park!” everyone fumbles to respond to his greeting, and you find yourself barely mumbling out a barely coherent ‘afternoon’ before continuing to stand in your spot obediently 

“…alright, jesus, i don’t know what the hell that was-“ jimin scoffs, shaking his head with a mild expression of disgust on his face, “maybe it’s a good thing miss im and her students are coming over today so you can see how proper students are supposed to act!” he claps his hands together before reaching into his back pocket for his phone, “miss im will be leading the class today, i’m just gonna be hanging around the back as her co-teacher, but please do your best and try not to embarrass me in front of her students. she just texted me and let me know that she’ll be here on time, so just continue warming up until they get here…” 

“someone woke up on the bitchy side of bed this morning. what do you think his problem is?” lisa mutters to you as the class disperses back into doing warm-up exercises, and you shrug with one shoulder and plop back down on the ground 

“i bet i know.” seulgi snorts, and you shoot her a warning look before she smirks and sends a blowing kiss in your direction 

you turn your head slightly to look over your shoulder, surprised to see jimin looking right at you before his eyes flicker and he quickly turns and looks down at his phone instead 

»»————- 🥀 ————-««

“now, the purpose of today’s class is just to familiarise yourself with dancing with a partner — after all, it’ll be one of the things you have to do during your exams at the end of the semester!” nayeon chirps, standing tall with her clipboard held close to her chest, “mr. park and i were dance partners, as you know… it’s also important to develop a bond with the person you’re partnered with. if there’s no bond, there’s no trust, no warmth, no chemistry, and all of that will be visible on stage through your dancing, so i cannot emphasise how important it is to really strengthen the connection you have with one another.” 

“well, there’s more than one way to do that-“ taehyung mutters, the class breaking into a collection of snorts and giggles before going silent again when jimin gives them one of his signature unimpressed death glares 

he’s barely spoken a word since nayeon and her boys came into the class ten minutes ago because that’s how mentally checked out he is 

it’s actual torture having to be here with you standing across the room as if he doesn’t have a million questions lined up and ready to go 

were you just lying when you said you loved him? did you know he was awake? did you do it on purpose to get him to become more attached to you??? did you date him so that you would be chosen for the nutcracker at the end of the year?! 

he made brief eye contact with you earlier (he was staring at the back of your head and wasn’t expecting you to turn and look back at him) and he swore he was going to start tearing up when the two of you locked gazes which is why he had to look away so quickly 

“i’ve paired you up randomly, so i’m just going to read your names off my list. when you hear your name, pair up with your partner and stand to the left side of the room and wait quietly until everyone’s been paired up,” nayeon clears her throat, looking down at her list, “lisa and taehyung, jisoo and seokjin, seulgi and namjoon…” 

jimin resists the urge to blow his cheeks out and roll his eyes out of complete boredom as he stands next to nayeon with his arms behind his back, occasionally glancing down at her list to see how many people still have to be paired up

“-y/n and jungkook-“ 

he immediately perks up at the mention of your name, eyebrows furrowing when it’s followed by jungkook’s name because what the hell does nayeon mean by y/n and jungkook?? 

“oh, uh-“ jimin nudges nayeon’s arm, “you- you paired y/n up with jungkook? we, uh, did we… did we talk about that, or…?” 

“what do you mean? i asked you if you had any preferences for partners and you told me to sort them out, don’t you remember?” nayeon whispers, using the tip of her pen to trace a line down her page before tapping right next to your name and jungkook’s name, “plus y/n’s clearly your strongest student, and jungkook is mine, so i’d like to see how they work together. i think they’ll work out quite well, they already seem to be pretty friendly with each other…”

“y/n and jungkook.” 

you look up when you hear your name being called and you immediately look over at jungkook, offering him a shy smile when he beams and starts to make his way over to you 

what a pleasant surprise!

you actually really like jungkook — sometimes he sends you memes on instagram or he’ll swipe up and respond to your stories, so the two of you have interacted more than a handful of times and you think he’s a pretty solid guy 

and you’d be lying if you said he wasn’t handsome (and it kind of gives you an ego boost knowing that he might have a teensy weensy crush on you)

“pst- make him jealous.” you hold back a yelp when seulgi suddenly burrows her fingers into your side and you turn to glare at her 

“what?”

“make. him. jealous.” she enunciates through gritted teeth, eyes flickering over to jimin before she looks over at a smiley jungkook, “nothing wrong with being a little petty.” 

“what- i’m not going to make him jealous, that’s not going to solve anything-“

“it won’t solve anything, but would it be so wrong to have a little fun to make yourself feel better?” 

“seulgi, i don’t like being petty and- hi!” you turn your head and greet jungkook with a bright smile, letting out a chuckle afterwards, “nice to see you again.”

“likewise! i’m glad we got paired up.” he nods, standing a little closer to you as the two of you return your attention to the front where miss. im is in the middle of giving her tips for the girls 

“try not to help your partner! you kinda just have to trust them — i know it’s very tempting because you know the combination and you know what step comes next, but the best thing to do is to just keep a strong core and focus on yourself! that way, your partner can- you know, kind of put you where you need to go. so, what we’re going to have you do for this exercise is, girls, you’ll make up a short combination, tell your partner what that is, and then immediately perform it on the spot.” miss. im turns to look at jimin, “so, mr. park, do you have any tips for the boys?”

“uh, i mean…” jimin purses his lips slightly, “use your palms, not your fingers. it wouldn’t feel good for your partner to have your fingers digging into their ribcages especially. also, you’ll be able to have more control when you’re using your palms instead of lifting with your fingers. just, uh… yeah, trust in your partner.” he nods, looking over at nayeon to signal that he has nothing more to add

god, he really is out of it today 

“any volunteers?” nayeon purses her lips as she looks around the class, not surprised to see that majority of you are avoiding eye contact with her (it is pretty intimidating dancing with all of your peers looking at you and judging every move, but it’s something that all of you will have to do eventually), “alright, then i’ll have to choose, since no one is taking the initiative.” she chirps, smacking her palm flat against her clipboard before turning to look right over at you and jungkook, “jungkook, y/n — would you like to come up here and demonstrate for the rest of the class?” 

you feel the hairs on your arm prickle in anxiety as you stand there for a second in silence, both you and jungkook exchanging glances before you turn back to look at miss im with a meek smile, “ah- yes, miss im.”

you were expecting everyone to break out and scatter around the room instead of immediately performing in front of the class, but you suppose everyone’s already warmed up and ready to go… 

“bepetty.” seulgi coughs quietly, and you turn to see jungkook holding his hand out for you to take

“shall we?” he grins, clearly very confident in your guys’ ability to impress the whole class with your little routine, “don’t worry miss im, y/n and i will try our best not to completely amaze you with our routine, but no promises…” jungkook’s comment gets a couple of laughs and you giggle lightly before taking his hand and letting him lead you to the front 

“that’s easy for you to say, i’m the one who has to come up with the routine-“ you add on, the corner of your mouth lifting in a knowing smirk when jungkook lets out a laugh and a nod 

his hand feels quite warm in yours and your eyes widen a little when you feel his thumb rub over your skin soothingly

“do your best!” miss im smiles, flicking the main lights off and turning the spotlight ones on as you guys get to the front, “y/n, what combination will you two be demonstrating for your peers?” 

ah, shit

“i….” you’ve never been good at thinking of things on the spot, and you can’t help but look over at jimin for a split second who seems to be shooting daggers right at jungkook as he stands leaning against the wall by the door, his arms crossed over his chest and his tongue poking against the inside of his cheek before he clears his throat quietly and rubs his lips together a couple of times 

his eyes are lidded slightly and to be honest, if looks could kill, jungkook would be bleeding out on the floor right about now and you can’t help but feel a little pleased at the obvious fact that jimin doesn’t like that you were paired up with jungkook and definitely doesn’t like the fact that miss im chose you and jungkook to demonstrate in front of the class 

“y/n?” jungkook elbows you slightly to get your attention and you clear your throat before standing up a little straighter, sorting through all the moves that you know and trying your best to come up with a quick routine on the spot

“oh! i, uh… okay, first, i’m gonna piqué attitude to the left, tombé… uh, double stepover, and then i’ll do… ah… i’ll do… échappé-echappe… passe-passe, i… suppose i’ll do a spin and then finish in arabesque?” you smile sheepishly, looking over at miss im and jimin for validation only to get a grunt from jimin and a pleased nod from miss im 

that seems like a doable combination, right?

god, you hope so 

lisa shoots you a thumbs up from the audience and you clear your throat quietly, taking a few steps back and waiting for your cue as miss im lowers the spotlights slightly 

the last thing you see before the lights dim is jimin’s furrowed brows and clenched jaw and you press your lips together in order to suppress a grin 

»»————- 🥀 ————-««

“wonderful job, you two. impeccable!” nayeon claps her hands gently along with the rest of the class, a proud smile on her face as she nudges jimin with her elbow, “see, what’d i tell you? the two of them fit together like two puzzle pieces, don’t you think?” 

“yep.” jimin licks over his front teeth in irritation when he notices the way jungkook’s hand lingers on the small of your back (a little too low for his liking, and if he was grading jungkook for an exam he’d immediately dock off a point for hand placement alone) as the two of you bow/curtsey at the front to thank your classmates for the applause and he feels his blood beginning to boil when he sees the shy little smile on your face and the blush spreading across your cheeks when jungkook whispers something in your ear 

what the fuck is he saying to you that’s making your cheeks red?? 

“you have something you want to share with the class, jungkook?” jimin blurts out right before he can even process that he’s blurted something out, his hand instinctively reaching over to smack the main lights back on 

the light switching back on so suddenly makes a few of you flinch and you reach up instinctively to shield your eyes, a little puzzled by what the problem is 

jimin is completely unbothered as he looks at jungkook and tilts his head, “well? if you can whisper it to y/n, you can share it with everyone.”

you and jungkook exchange glances of confusion 

“oh, i-“ jungkook stands up a little taller and jimin can’t help but feel drunk on power because of how intimidated he looks right now, “i just said that she did a really good job, mr. park, that’s all. a-and that she looks very pretty when she’s focused.” 

“interesting. well, i don’t think that’s a very appropriate comment to make to your peer,” jimin responds immediately, shaking his head before looking over at nayeon, “miss im, you need to control your hormonal students-“

“woah, my boys aren’t the hormonal ones here-“ nayeon scoffs, and jimin’s eyes widen in offence at the dig at you guys even though he technically made the first jab (and also, nayeon’s probably right about that because he’s seen the way you guys look at him and has also heard many of things said about him), “and it’s perfectly fine to compliment a peer! maybe keep the second half of your comment for after class, but don’t listen to grumpy mr. park, you two — again, great job, you can go back to your spots.” 

awkward, scattered applause makes its way around the room as you and jungkook return to your spots, and lisa gives you a look that says “what was that??? we’re definitely talking about this later” to which you respond with a quick shrug as you pass by her 

“okay…” miss im clears her throat quietly, letting out an uncomfortable chuckle before flipping to the next page on her clipboard, jimin following close behind her as the two of them head back to the front of the room, “let me see… jisoo, seokjin, can you guys come up next?” 

“i’m sorry if i- if i made you uncomfortable with my comment, y/n, i really didn’t mean to-“ jungkook whispers, and you shake your head quickly as you look up at him with a frown 

“no, not at all! it was very sweet of you-“ you reassure him, reaching down to give his hand a squeeze, “really, it was very kind of you to say. and you did a great job as well- sorry i almost stepped on your foot when i-”

“oh, that’s- no, it was really all you, i basically just followed you and made sure to spin you and stuff-“ 

“jungkook!” jimin’s voice is crisp and it makes you stand straight up as you turn your head to look back at the front, “talking again while your peers are getting ready to perform up front?” 

jungkook’s face turns bright red and he shakes his head quickly, “i- no, sir, i’m- i wasn’t-“ 

“i talked to him first, so if you’re going to bark at someone, you should do it at me-“ you raise your hand to get jimin to look over at you before giving him a casual shrug, “my bad.” 

“‘your bad’?” jimin repeats with air quotations, narrowing his eyes at you and almost daring you to continue speaking to him in such a casual tone when you know he’s made it very clear how important it is to speak to him formally when it’s class time, “well, is there something that you’d like to share with the class since it was so important you had to speak to jungkook about it right now?” 

“just that he did a fantastic job and he looked incredibly handsome doing it,” you chirp, maintaining a smile on your face, “i also said that we did completely amaze everyone with our routine because i guess we just fit together so, so well and- well, the second half of my comment, i’ll say to him when the two of us are outside of class, as miss im suggested.” 

your comment doesn’t get any snickers, which isn’t a surprise considering the fact that everyone is probably terrified of how angry jimin looks — but honestly, you have no idea why he seems to be picking on you and jungkook but you have a feeling it has something to do with the breakup 

and when you think about that, you can’t help but get more infuriated because can’t he see that he benefits from you breaking up with him?! now he’s free to date whoever he wants to date

like he said, he can be in a real relationship instead of whatever the fuck the two of you were in 

not to mention, you haven’t brought your personal feelings into the situation the same way he has (this is a lie, you are definitely acting on your emotions right now but the denial is slathered on thick today) so what makes him think that he has the right to treat you and jungkook like shit just because he’s all pissy?!?! 

“i’d like to pull y/n out to talk to her for a moment.” jimin immediately turns to look at naeyon with his hands behind his back, nayeon frowning as she looks back and forth between him and you, “now please, miss im. we won’t be long.” 

“well, can you wait until we’re done?” you pipe up, and that gets you a little stomp on the toes from seulgi because now you’re just doing too much but the rage that’s building inside of you from having jimin clearly picking on both you and jungkook is becoming unbearable, “i just think the respectable move is to wait until we’re done learning, mr. park. or would you like to continue wasting everyone’s time by singling out jungkook and i just because you’re clearly in a sour mood for no reason and seem to be enjoying using us as your emotional punching bags?” 

the silence is almost palpable, both you and jimin glaring at each other from across the room as everyone stands silently, awkwardly, because what the absolute fuck is going on right now? 

jimin’s eyes have gone completely dark and if it weren’t for the fact that he used to be your boyfriend, you would probably be terrified for basically cussing out your teacher in front of the whole class — but the scale feels balanced now because the current conversation taking place doesn’t seem at all like a mr. park vs miss. y/l/n interaction… this is a jimin vs y/n interaction. 

“leave this classroom right now.” jimin says through gritted teeth, his voice eerily low and quiet as he continues staring at you without a single blink, “right fucking now, y/n.” 

“no problem.” you snap, swiftly moving your way through the crowd and heading straight for the door, your fists clenched at your sides 

you let the door slam shut behind you, angry tears beginning to brim at the edges of your eyes as you storm down the hallway towards the changing rooms so you can get your bags and go home

you shouldn’t have come to class today — you knew that seeing jimin would be too much for you and now look at where it’s gotten you! 

openly disrespecting jimin not just in front of the girls but also in front of miss im’s boys, which probably mortified jimin because he prides himself on how well-behaved you guys are whenever you’re paired up with students from another class… you have a feeling this isn’t going to end well at all. 

the thought of being grilled not just by jimin but also the dean of the school sends a lightning bolt of anxiety right into you and your brain immediately begins to conjure up an email of what you’re going to say in your apology letter because that’s the type of student you are, not whoever you were just a second ago 

you just couldn’t help yourself!! you’re running on an inconsistent sleep schedule and you haven’t been eating right and you’ve barely been drinking water and you’re sad about the breakup and mad at the circumstances and also feeling a little bit like maybe you acted too hastily in the first place and should’ve communicated with jimin about how you were feeling and what you were insecure about instead of diving head first into the whole crazy jealous girlfriend act and driving him away 

and now it seems to be your ego and your pride standing in the way of making you turn around and just talk to jimin because walking away and accepting that this is just the way things are is the much easier option 

“so stupid,” you sniffle, reaching up to wipe away a stray tear as your bottom lip starts to tremble 

you’ve ruined everything 

“hey, i didn’t say you could leave-“ you glance over your shoulder when you hear jimin’s voice as you continue making your way down the stairs, but you pick up your pace when you see him starting to follow you, “y/n, i swear to god-“ 

“i’m going home, i’m clearly not in the right state of mind to be here right now, mr. park-“

“oh, don’t give me that bullshit, y/n-“ jimin snaps, “i think you and i both know we’ve been avoiding each other but we need to talk because your behaviour today isn’t coming out of nowhere-“ 

“i’m sorry for talking back to you in class, but you were clearly picking on jungkook and i and i was so fucking over it-“ you swing the main door open, sneakers squeaking against the linoleum when you come to a sudden stop after seeing how heavy the rainfall is 

you contemplate staying and waiting until the rain calms down a little but the thought of having to stay and talk to jimin is just a little too much for you at the moment 

“it’s raining out and you don’t have an umbrella, you big baby-“ jimin changes the subject when thunder suddenly rumbles from outside, stopping at the top of the stairs to look at you, “what are you gonna do, walk in the rain?!” 

“if that’s what i wanted to do, then i have every right to do so!” 

you came here by bus and you know it doesn’t come for another twenty minutes, meaning that not only are you going to have to walk in the rain to the bus stop, you’ll also have to wait in the rain until it comes and that’s just a recipe for the nastiest cold in the entire world

and the thought of having to nurse a horrible cold and nurse your poor heart sounds like a nightmare 

“y/n, i know you’re upset but you’re being irrational-”

“so what if i wanna walk in the rain?!” the emotional side of your brain takes over as you glare up at jimin before storming towards the doors, “i’m an adult, i can make my own decisions-“ 

“i know you are, and i know you can, but, y/n, please-“ jimin grabs the back of your arm right as you get to the bottom of the stairs and you immediately fling his arm away, “just talk to me, please-“

“about what?!” you adjust the strap of your duffle bag over your shoulder, “we broke up, it’s for the better, you’re my teacher and i’m your student and we never should’ve started dating in the first place because it never would’ve worked out anyway and-“ before you know it, everything is coming out of you and you can’t find a way to stop or control the words coming out of your mouth, “and i think maybe i shouldn’t come to class for a few weeks because it’s going to be weird and i can’t- i can’t be in the same room as you, jimin, it’s killing me-“ 

“it’s killing me, too-“ jimin admits softly, brown eyes glistening slightly underneath the lights, “i just- i can’t stop thinking about you, and i- baby, i- i miss you so much, you have no idea-“ your eyes immediately well with tears and you shake your head quickly as you take a few steps back, pushing the door open and stumbling out while unable to tear your gaze away from jimin’s, “please, we can figure something out, i know we can. i know i want to be with you, y/n, i don’t want anyone else, i just want you-“ his voice tremors slightly and he reaches out for you, “and i didn’t mean it when i called our relationship nothing, i was just hurt and- and angry and- i don’t even know why we broke up-“ 

“you should be with nayeon, she’s better for you and-“ you lower your voice slightly, “i know you went out with her over the weekend, so-“

“went out with her??” jimin gawks, almost letting out a laugh of disbelief, “we met up for coffee to talk about the lesson plan for today- don’t think i didn’t hear what everyone was muttering about before class, you guys need to cut the gossiping and- oh my god, y/n, is that what this is about?? you think i want to be with nayeon? we broke up for a reason, you- this is so incredibly frustrating, y/n, why can’t you just believe me when i say that i want to be with you?!” 

everything that’s coming out of jimin’s mouth makes you feel ten times worse knowing that the two of you can’t be together 

“this is why we need to sit down and talk about things, be honest and give each other our side of the story, because clearly something’s been miscommunicated and-“

“it doesn’t matter, jimin, at the end of the day, even if we talk about what happened we still can’t be together-“

“we can, we just- we can figure something out-“ the overwhelming reminder that you’ll have to tell the dean and all your classmates and face judgement and be gossiped about on top of the already overwhelming emotion of seeing and talking to jimin is just too much for you to bear, and you find your heart skipping more than a few beats out of anxiety because the only thing on your mind right now is to run away and hide from all of this 

“i can’t be here, i have to go home, i can’t be here right now-“ you whimper, turning around to head into the rain, “you just- we can’t be together, jimin-“ 

“y/n-!” the last thing you hear before you sprint out into the dark, misty rain is the sound of jimin crying out for you and you can’t help but burst into tears, covering your mouth with your hand to muffle your sobs

run away run away run away run away 

water splashes up and around you at every step you take, adrenaline coursing through your veins as you keep running down the sidewalk with your duffle bag flopping behind you wildly 

this is too much

everything is just too much 

you just need to go home and then everything will be fine 

it doesn’t matter that jimin wants to work on things with you (it does, because you do, too), it doesn’t matter that he wants to find a way to make things work (it does, because you do, too), it doesn’t matter that he’s clearly stated that he wants to be with you and not nayeon (it does, because it reassures you and now you really know that jimin just wants you and you know that you just want him too) because all that matters is that everything is too much to handle and you feel like your head is about to explode 

“so what am i supposed to do then?!” the sound of jimin’s voice down the street immediately makes you stop and turn around, and you’re glad that it’s raining like this to mask the tears streaming down your face

you aren’t surprised that he’s caught up to you, and you stand still as you look at him standing across from you, all the way at the end of the block, “what the FUCK am i supposed to do, y/n, huh?!” he yells, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and pounding against his chest a few times, “you want me to stand here and act like i don’t love you?! like we never happened?! IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT?!” 

“i…”

“tell me that’s what you want and i’ll leave it alone, y/n. all you have to do is tell me that this is what you want.” your feet are stuck in place as jimin jogs right over to you and you resist the very strong urge to look away from him again but he just looks so sad and you hate yourself for doing this to him

“it was wrong of me to pressure you to tell your friends about us the way that i did, i know that.” jimin nods, slicking his hair back with a hand, “i fucked up, and i’m sorry for doing that. but i meant it when i said i wanted to be in a proper relationship, y/n, because i want to be able to hold your hand in public, i wanna take you out for dinners without constantly feeling like we’re going to get caught, i- i want to show you off! i wanna show you off because i… i love you, y/n…” 

jimin shakes his head in disappointment when your only response is to stand there, staring at him with wide, trembling eyes 

he waits one, two, three seconds for you to say something, to say literally anything and he hates that you still have nothing to say to him 

even if you said you didn’t want to be with him, that would be a better response than you just standing there staring at him 

forget it 

obviously you’ve made your answer clear, and now he knows that he was 100% more invested in you than you were in him 

if you want him to pretend like he doesn’t care about you and that you’re just another one of his students, he’s perfectly capable of doing that 

he was a little out of control today, but he’ll be able to manage it in future classes

the thought of transferring you to another teacher’s class briefly flits through his mind but he’s reminded by the fact that he’d have to talk to the dean about that and then the dean would have to ask why jimin wants to transfer you and that’d just be a whole thing 

plus, the semester’s nearly over so pretty soon jimin won’t have to be forced to be in the same room with the woman he loves but he can’t say he loves 

it’s going to fine

everything is going to be fine 

he’s been broken up with before, and he’s picked himself up and has moved on 

he can do this 

“fine, y/n.” he scoffs to himself, turning on his heel to head back towards the building, “if that’s what you want, i can’t change your mind. i’m sorry. i won’t push it any further.” 

“i was gonna talk to the dean!”

jimin stops in his tracks when you finally speak up, and he turns to look over his shoulder to see that you’ve taken one step forward but hesitating to come any closer to him like a scared baby deer 

he doesn’t move, afraid that if he moves too quickly he might scare you off and stop you from what you’re about to say 

“what?” he asks quietly, turning around to face you and relieved to see that you don’t seem like you’re about to take off again 

“i was- i was gonna talk to the dean.” you repeat quietly before averting your gaze, “i’d made an appointment and everything, i was gonna talk to the dean about us because i- i love you… too.” you blurt out, looking back up at him, “i love you too, but i’m… scared.” 

“scared of someone finding out?” 

“well, that’s a pretty big chunk of it because i could get expelled and you could get fired, but i’m also scared because… the last time i felt this way about someone, they left me for their ex six months after we said i love you to each other.” you swallow thickly, feeling slightly ashamed and embarrassed to admit that about yourself since it’s not something you like to bring up, “i… if there is even a 1% chance of you and nayeon getting back together, i don’t want any part of it. and i know that’s unfair of me to say because life happens and i get it but-” you whimper, feeling your heart splinter at the reminder of how broken up you were over your previous relationship, “as much as i love you and i want to work on things with you, i don’t wanna be hurt again-“ 

“you won’t be, y/n-“

“you don’t know that-“

“but i do!” jimin drops to his knees, looking up at you from the ground as he keeps his hands firm on the sides of your thighs, “baby, i do know that- i don’t know what crazy rumour you guys cooked up but i’m not secretly in love with nayeon- i wanna be with you, please, please just give us a chance to make it work-“

“i’m still your student, jimin…” you sniffle, reaching up to wipe at your red eyes, “all of this doesn’t change the fact that you are my teacher and i am your student, and the both of us never should’ve started doing this in the first place-“ 

“i’ll talk to the dean about getting you transferred to another class, or- or i can transfer to another class- i will make it work, y/n, we can make this work.” 

you chew on the inside of your cheek anxiously as you look down at jimin, jimin who you’re hopelessly in love with, jimin who you love waking up next to and falling asleep beside, jimin who wakes you up with kisses on the face and a mug of tea (you hate tea, you just drink it because it’s him), jimin who you know you want to be with because it’s been so long since you’ve felt so strongly and so surely about someone and… well, it’s jimin. 

“okay.” you nod slowly, reaching down to cup his cheek gently before swiping your thumb against his skin, “okay, we can make it work. i wanna make this work, but i think the first thing we have to do is talk to the dean because i don’t know how much longer i can hide it from everyone-!” you don’t get much of a chance to say anything else before jimin’s shooting up from the ground, pulling you in for a kiss as your duffle bag drops to the ground 

“oh my god, i missed you so much, you have no idea how much-“ jimin murmurs against your lips, his arm looping around your waist to pull you in closer, while your arms sling around his neck and your fingers curl into the hair at the back of his head 

“i missed you too-“ you laugh lightly, heart thrumming happily in your chest as you find yourself pressing closer into jimin’s familiar warmth, “we can make this work.” 

»»————- 🥀 ————-««

(“are we going to talk about how you were basically bullying me and jungkook?” “…no comment.”) 

🎙️ ask y/n where she gets her leg warmers (talk to my characters!) 

📚 why not explore the rest of the library while you're here? (full fics!) 

💫 or perhaps you want something shorter to read? (drabbles and mini series!)

🌟 or something even shorter? (teeny tidbits!) 

[lisenberry]

…… seasoned tattoo artist price…….

I just got back from a vacation to the beach, and I'm so behind on asks, but this jumped out at me. Thank you!!!

Just a taste at something a bit bigger...

Tattoo Artist!Price x F!Reader

CW: alcohol, explicit language, breakups.

You were pissed.  In the irate sort of way, not in the drunk way, although you did have several glasses of rosé on the beach before you read your boyfriend’s text.  And then proceeded to finish off the rest of the bottle in the aftermath of telling your now ex-boyfriend to fuck all the way off.  Forever.

I met someone.

She can fucking have you. 

You were proud of your response.  Even if the exchange did put a damper on your holiday weekend at the shore with your girlfriends.  It would figure that he’d find a way to ruin this for you. 

Your friends said it was a blessing in disguise.  He was a loser, and an arsehole.  And a wanker.  He didn’t deserve you.  Scum.  They’d cursed his name and hexed him for all eternity with a limp dick and a festering canker on his withering scrotum.

Whether you knew all of the worst about him to be true or not, you’d still held out hope that he’d at least spend the weekend thinking about you.  That you’d be the one to break up with him, when you came home refreshed and tanned and still slightly drunk.  Maybe having met someone else yourself.  One of those whirlwind summer romances filled with heated glances over chilled glasses of prosecco.  A bartender, maybe.  Or a rich tech mogul visiting for a mate’s stag party.

Instead, it was the last night of your trip, and you were on your way to a tattoo shop.  Alone.  The pact you’d made with your friends to get something cute and small to commemorate your newfound freedom had worn off with the afternoon glow.  They’d opted for a nap before dinner as you slipped out to keep the appointment you’d made via email in a rage just a few hours before.

The shop you’d chosen was just a short walk from your beachside resort, and you tried your best to sober up as you smiled at passersby and walked a semi-straight line along the rough and uneven cobblestones.  Fueled by indignation and a forced sense of peace.

New me.  Living my best life.  Don’t need anyone.  The freeing thoughts filled your mind as you fought to keep down the raw oysters you’d had for lunch, and the breadbasket you’d finished off in the hopes it would soak up some of the alcohol that made you feel a confusing mix of rotten and rejuvenated.

As you slid your sunglasses off your nose, you read the sign outside the tattoo parlor, hiccupping and squinting against the dying sun.

Captain John’s, Ink.

Part two is up!

[thescarletnargacuga]

WELCOME TO MY WRITING CORNER!

My name is Scarlet and I'm a hobby writer who enjoys The Amazing Digital Circus!

BE ADVISED: NSFW CONTENT IS PERMITTED

~~~

ASKS ARE: OPEN

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PLEASE READ THE RULES BEFORE SUBMITTING IDEAS FOR ONESHOTS!

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT with NSFW explicit content

DO NOT harass me about when fics will be done. They will be posted when they are finished. Creativity mustn't be rushed.

NO SUBMISSION IS GUARANTEED TO TURN INTO A FIC

Please divert all Raceway related requests to @theamazingdigitalraceway

Provide as much detail as possible for other AU requests

All TADC ships are welcome

Fic lengths will vary, I don't keep word counts

I do not do asks in chronological order, I do them in inspirational order

WHAT I WILL NOT WRITE:

Non-consent/SA

Underage shipping/proshipping

ANYTHING racist/transphobic/homophobic/etc

Gross/Extreme Kinks (you are welcome to DM me to ask)

Crossovers (it's a lot of work my brain can't handle)

~~~

TADC FANFIC MASTERLIST BELOW 👇👇👇👇👇👇👇

THE AMAZING DIGITAL RACEWAY

SHOWTIME

Creative Liberty

Date Night

Can't Help Falling in Love

Operation Breakup

Where Do Humans Come From?

Stay With Me

Sleep Mode

Digital Realizations

Breakdown

Love Language

Will You Ma-

Wedding Night (NSFW)

Lover's Quarrel

Magic Touch (NSFW)

Sniffles

Practical Effects

Possession

Green Is Not Our Color (angst)

Goodbye (angst)

Don't Say Goodbye (angst)

As Above, So Below (angst)

Mental Purgatory (angst)

Digital Hallucinations (angst)

BUNNYDOLL

Play Pretend

[%$!#] Me Yourself, Coward (NSFW)

Movie Night

Misery

BUTTONBLOSSOM

Toy Box

Haunting

MISC

Beach Day (fun adventure)

Nightmare's End (spooky adventure)

Don't Be Suspicious (some showtime and Circus shenanigans)

Chrysalis (Kinger angst)

Strength in Tragedy (Ribbun)

Romance (Ribbun)

Expression (zoomni)

Frenemies With Benefits (abstrabbit)

My Turn (funnybunnyshow)

Shadowed Admirer (SweetTooth)

Shadowed Love (SweetTooth)

Bubbling Interest (KingerxBubble)

Unwanted (Caine angst)

Abstract (Queenie poem)

The Unrendered (spooky scary)

BOXER AU

Knock Out (showtime)

DREAMLAND AU

I Wish... (Showtime)

Dreaming in Monochrome (Showtime)

KINGDOM AU

The Royal Gala (showtime)

My Hero (showtime)

ADVENTURE AU

Campfire Stories (all ships)

Adventure AU (showtime)

Adventure AU Cont (Showtime) (NSFW)

CARNIVAL AU

Trick or Treat (showtime)

Flirtation Frustration (Showtime)

Game Over (Showtime)

Light of the Carnival (Light!Caine)

HUMAN AU

Ladies Night (multi-ship)

Bath Time (Showtime)

The Flu (Showtime)

The Flu....Again (Showtime)

The Gift of the Magpie (showtime)

Expecting (showtime)

Guardian (Gummigoo)

TIME CAPSULE AU

Bullseye (Canon)

The Anniversary Ball (Canon)

Bushwhacked (Showtime)

Choice (showtime)

Pendulum (showtime)

Pendulum Epilogue

Worst Kept Secret (showtime)

Last Resort (Caine Songfic)

No Man's Land (showtime)

Aviation Enthusiast (showtime)

HARLEQUIN AU

Finality (Pomni angst)

Blooded Skies (Pomni soft canon)

The Bull (Caine Angst) (Songfic)

Chandelier (Showtime)

Defying gravity (Showtime) (Songfic)

Just Kiss (Showtime)

Say That Again (Showtime)

Down Boy (Showtime) (NSFW)

Soul Bearer (Showtime)

First Born (Cade Fluff)

Cade Canons

Half Siblings, Full Family (Cade and Anya Fluff)

Runaway (Cade Angst)

The Way Of The Combat Harlequin (Cade hurt/comfort)

Monster (Showtime)

Reach Out (Cade fluff)

THE UNSEEN SERIES (Harlequin AU fan series)

The Unseen (oneshot)

Seeing the Unseen (pt1)

Blade of Shadows (pt2)

Unseen Fragments (pt3)

Shadow Puppet (pt4)

I Am Seen (pt5)

Golden Soul (coming soon)

[miriadalia]

About Keenry and how the CK writers ruined one of the best relationships of the show...

I'll try to keep it short.

These are the reasons why I think Tory and Robby shouldn't be endgame in Cobra Kai anymore:

Their miscommunication will only lead them to more heartbreak.

Back in season 4 I became a fulltime Keenry shipper, especially after the Prom scenes. And the main reason was because we could see how they understood each other, talked things out and worried about the other... After the season 5 breakup nothing was the same for them anymore.

With Tory wanting to solve her problems always on her own and with Robby escaping and assuming things before talking with her properly... They made it pretty clear they have communication and trust problems. And I get it, they both have had hard lives. But I hoped that after they made up in the last episode of season 5, they both had learned their lessons...

Flash forward to season 6 and instead we had more of the same but a thousand times worse.

Their SECOND break up

Listen. I know many couples go on and off for years and then end up getting married anyways, especially when they started their relationship pretty young... But I don't think that's healthy at all.

If you feel the constant need to resort to a break up or pause to fix your problems then that probably means you don't actually go well with that person.

And that's fine. That doesn't mean one of the parts is a horrible person. Just means it doesn't work and even if it's hurting it will be for the best in the future.

And yeah, I think the same about Sam x Miguel in case you're wondering.

The "love triangles" they used to kind of made them up again

They really run out of ideas in the writing room. We already had the drama: Tory mom died and she had to fix her relationship with the Miyagi Dos. She could have been forced to fight Robby in the tournament because of the rules, not because she was angry at him.

Why did Robby had to go through literal SA with that freak of a girl while thinking his second girlfriend had also cheated with another guy??

Why did Tory had to be captain with a guy that was made to be just a cartoon villain instead of an actual companion? And why did she also had to experience watching the boy she loved kissing another girl for the second time??

Kwon and Zara were such a wasted potential it makes my blood boil. They had multiple time Taekwondo champions with really good acting skills and they just went with the psycho gang freak and the superficial jealous bitch (ahem, abuser). But that's for another post...

The solution to these "misunderstandings" was... Pushing their respective freaks to defend each other

I'm talking about Tory pushing Kwon in the hall and Robby throwing Zara like a potato bag during the brawl.

"You really choose her over me?"

"It's not even close"

WTF was that?? It wasn't a choice in the first place!! Robby was drunk to the point of unconsciousness. Who on earth wrote that?

And are Tory and Robby supposed to be back together just because he said that?

He also said: "I know you better than that. I shouldn't have let Kwon get into my head" Well........ Your actions didn't show, honey, you immediately accused her of hooking up with him during the last fight.

Kwon's death and its impact in both their lives

Even if they didn't like him and Kwon made things even more difficult between them, he was still a teen like them.

Look at Tory's face in the picture above. Do you think she can handle any more death after what she had to go through with her mother? Do you think she will be magically cured by the power of Robby's love and fight Zara to "get revenge" in part 3?? Please, don't.

Even if a year has passed between the Sekai Taikai and the new tournament, this kid is traumatised. I don't think she should be fighting at all for a long, long time.

Robby, I can see him fighting, but I'm really disappointed on how his character arc went... Yes, he has finally gotten over his second place complex and understood he is a good leader if he wants to... But I can't see how that can improve his relationship with Tory.

So, lastly, I hope this is what one of the CK creators meant when he posted that "some high school relationships last forever, other don't". It makes me sad if it has to be Keenry the one that doesn't end up being endgame. But at the same time is the only solution I see to this poor writing...

[adhdbisexualramblings]

Cringe culture is dead. Introducing … Regressor Bill Cipher headcanons!

(May contain TBoB spoilers)

Vent regressor flag and general age regression flag (couldn’t find the source, but is that really needed?)

(Regressing while drunk, general unhappy/vent regression, unhealthy coping, mentions of a psych ward (Theraprism), panic attacks, memory issues, Bill-typical violence (non-graphic))

-I hesitate to call it regression. Being a demon with no technical physical form, and also unfamiliar with human customs, he’s not a typical regressor at all. It’s also due to the fact that Bill doesn’t allow himself to feel things and the blurriness tied to his childhood memories.

-When he’s feeling mentally “smaller”, his triangle form will shrink to accommodate.

-Sleep comes to him easier when he’s small. Bill loathes it.

-Point blank, Bill’s regression is a 80/20 split from angry to sad.

-I do mean angry. You thought his usual pettiness and emotional issues were bad? They’re heightened by ten. He hasn’t caused universe-destroying incidents yet, though.

-Bill being regressed rarely ever impedes on his ability to harm others. He’s gotten very good at ‘separating himself’ from it. Though his deal-making is often sloppy.

-Dissociation. That’s it, that’s the note.

-Thankfully for everyone around Bill and himself, his fits - and regression as a whole - only last a few hours. He’s never regressed for a day, though he has regressed multiple times in a short span of time.

-His speech stays mostly intact, but he can slip up and use more childish phrases or demands.

-He still really loves silly straws.

-He tends to regress more than usual when drunk. Bill will absolutely whine and sob and cling to the ‘safest’ person. He regressed (mostly) after his and Ford’s “breakup.”

-The Henchmaniacs have many times been concerned by this.

-If Bill, for once, thinks he needs to regress, he’ll chug a lot of alcohol to ‘do the trick.’

-He gets scared of his own fire powers. Goes into panic mode if he sees any flame at all, really.

-Doesn’t think he needs or wants a caregiver, which is true sixty percent (60%) of the time.

-Calling him “Billy” will either make him attach himself to you or try to kill you, no in-between.

-Bill has memory gaps. He gets confused as to what part of his life he’s experiencing and it’s caused him a great deal of stress.

-Almost all of the Henchmaniacs (usually Pyronica) have had to listen to him cry. Bill never manages to tell them what he’s crying about.

-“I wanna go home.”

“…I thought we already were home, boss?”

“NO!” *cue tantrum*

-Ford managed to unintentionally make him positively regress once. Bill had no clue what to do with this information and shoved it away.

-Even if you know him very well, he hides his regression exceptionally and you’d be unable to tell ninety-nine percent (99%) of the time.

-The Theraprism isn’t ill-equipped to help regressors, but Bill never lets them. He refuses to take the medicine even with the silly straw and has had multiple panic attacks and resorted to attempted murder at the prospect. The staff will leave him to his own devices if it’s a particularly bad day.

-Bill draws lots of red and blue triangles on the bad days.

-His regression has never once been happy or enjoyable. That he can remember, at least.

-The Axolotl was his caregiver at some point, however. A long time ago, when they were friends. Rarely ever did the two meet, but Bill was genuinely the happiest when he was small with the Axolotl.

[belle-rosse]

I think wayyyy too much about the scene in s1x07 where Vi and Cait try to save each other from Jinx’s attack, and maybe simple thoughts have turned into a meaningless analysis. I’ll share it anyway.

The way Vi and Caitlyn try to protect each other in this scene perfectly reflects how they were raised, and I think it even works as foreshadowing for the scene in the rain.

Let’s focus on Vi first. The core part of her identity since she was a child has been to protect, which we see from the way she shields Powder from the horrifying sight on the bridge in the very first minute of the first episode, up to this very moment. Vi has a specific way of carrying out this protection. Unlike when she's on her own, Vi doesn’t jump straight into a fight—she first moves the person she wants to protect away from danger, then faces the battle entirely alone. Here, she follows the same process: her first impulse is to shield Caitlyn by pushing her out of the weapon’s range, not caring about her own safety. She only takes cover after making sure that no one can hurt Cait. This is Vi’s impulsive nature at its peak, as well as her absolute loyalty.

Now, with Caitlyn, there’s more to discuss. Caitlyn has been protected her entire life, shielded behind her parents and her last name. This sense of security has made Caitlyn a rebel, someone who pushes the boundaries of that protection (while following certain rules), but it also makes her very naive. Caitlyn doesn’t truly know the dangers of the world. Even though she tries to project confidence, she had never stepped on the other side of the bridge before. That’s why I believe her decision to step in front of Vi as a shield while also trying to protect herself with her arm is a pure act but rooted in ignorance. Caitlyn jumps into danger to keep Vi safe, but even if she managed to avoid the impact of one bullet, there would be more. Most likely, if Vi hadn’t pushed her, they both would’ve ended up hurt. This is Caitlyn’s identity: unlike Vi, she protects others by getting close, giving all of herself to push the problem away rather than fighting it alone. What she doesn’t realize is that, even when she has meticulously structured plans, some problems can’t be solved with one-sided diplomacy. Caitlyn is pure and well-intentioned but lacks a survival instinct due to her upbringing.

Now, why do I say this works as foreshadowing for their breakup in the rain? Simple—except for the weapons and general violence, it’s essentially the same scene.

Vi and Caitlyn face a problem that involves both of them, and in order to protect the other, they resort to the same methods I mentioned before.

Vi assumes that she’s the problem, that her anger with the council and Piltover in general will cost Caitlyn her well-being. So, what does she do? She leaves her in the middle of the rain, saying words she wishes weren’t true, hurting herself in the process just to make sure Caitlyn won’t try to find her. Throughout this scene, Vi refuses to look at her, because if she sees her sadness, she’ll likely give in and end up putting her in danger. After pushing her away again, Vi decides to confront (though with Jayce this time, not entirely alone) Silco’s industry, once more jumping into the fight only after ensuring the safety of the one she loves.

But Caitlyn doesn’t know this. She sees Vi’s actions as an abrupt and ungrounded change. “Why is Vi leaving?” must be her only thought, and in response, she tries to offer solutions they can face together because she’s unaware of what they’re really up against. She tries to get close to Vi several times, both in her words and her body language. Everything in her is pleading for the Zaunite to stay, to explain what’s happening so they can work together and share the weight of the problems. In the end, it doesn’t work, and respecting Vi’s boundaries, she lets her go. Though it doesn’t stop her, and that’s how we get her scene in the shower, thinking of the alternatives to that encounter.

I warned y’all that this would be a meaningless analysis, but I love and miss Caitvi too much to stay silent about them. Also, I adore episode seven.

[gh0st-onesh0ts]

I think some things I never say- Aventurine x gn!reader

You're in self-sabotage mode t/w- Angst, breakup summary- Aventurine falls for someone new a/n- Based on irl events

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You told yourself the breakup wouldn't hurt. But it was something that couldn't be helped. A cold breeze swept over your body as you lay in bed clutching a pillow. However nothing could replace the feel of your lost partners body. The way he played with your hair, the way he whispered in your ears. The way he loved you.

Aventurine said he loved someone that wasn't you. You had noticed small changes in his behaviour, the way he tensed when we spoke your name or touch you. The way he began being around others more than you. How he didn't talk to you the same way. Aventurine's eyes were focused on everyone... But you.

"Will they make you happy aventurine?"

"I don't want to hurt you anymore than I already have. I don't love you like I used to."

You saw it coming. Your friends saw it coming. Everyone saw it coming. It should've hurt so much less. So so much less, but it didn't. He would never understand what pain he had put you through. To him it was a game, a gamble. Would it work out? Or would you lose.

Aventurine was gone and he wasn't coming back for you. You had seen him briefly with his next partner. Dark blue hair, a very proper way of speaking, he was pretty... And aventurine was happy. He looked more happy then he was when he was with you.

A few months later you had heard that the pair had broken up. Strangely enough you received a text message from your ex.

"I realise I never should've left you. You were a great person, you helped me, you loved me, you made me feel happy. They were selfish and never did any of the things that you did for me. I never stopped loving you y/n. I pushed down those feelings because I thought I found someone better. I miss you. I miss you so much. I regret our last few weeks. I wish we'd stayed together, please forgive me."

There were so many ways you wished you had responded to this. You also wanted him back, but you couldn't take him. You didn't want your heart broken a second time by the same man.

"It's too late aventurine, our ship has sailed. I don't want to be regarded as your 'last resort'. I'm not coming back to you because of the way you pushed me aside and replaced me so easily. You don't understand how much it hurts to be given away just like that. But I never told you because I was scared that wouldn't listen to me like you didn't back then. I always told you what you did wrong but you refused to change. Flirting with others as soon as you got the chance too..."