#this is honestly the best way to release how shitty i’ve felt today

[tatsuma-forever]

and now; the most braindead comments i’ve seen under a violence jack video!!

what does political correctness have to do with violence jack. go chew on wallpaper or something fuck off

i can get hell’s wind but your taste is worse than literal shit

why are you here then? violence jack is meant to be obscene, vile, hopeless, dystopian, and whatever other words you found on your tour of the dictionary. also fuck off with that endless cycle shit

same argument as the last comment but violence jack was an influence on berserk. go read devilman

average go nagai stan. your mother probably cries when she thinks about how you turned out

FUCKING STAR WARS????

[lovely-ateez]

Favorite Place~

ꕥPosted: 3/8/21

ꕥGenre: College!au, Angst, Fluff

ꕥPairing: FemReader! x Emo!Hongjoong

ꕥWord Count: ~4.8k

ꕥWarnings: General angst (happy ending), Unknown man being creepy to reader, Characters insulting reader behind her back, Alcohol intake, Driving with a few sips of alcohol (please don’t drink and drive), Implied violence, Language, Oral (f recieving), Unprotected sex, Corruption kink, Language

ꕥA/N: Reader is a girly-girl bc we need more rep that isn’t hella negative and to actually be portrayed as smart and hardworking for once 😤 You👏can👏be👏both👏 ANyWay—thank you for bearing with me while I wrote this

I ran my hands along the open science textbook laying upon my desk, eyes scanning rapidly over the information. The pages were thin and flimsy, clearly showing the book’s age. If I wasn’t careful, the pages would rip with ease. Not that I had time to actually think about that.

In less than five minutes I, along with the twenty five other poor souls who took this class of their own volition, would be handed our last final for the class. A hundred and ten questions in an hour and thirty minutes.

The class was basically academic suicide and had I been told that, I would have stayed far, far away from the class. But no. No one bothered to run that by me.

A whiff of familiar cologne filled my nose and against my better judgement I looked up to find the class genius, Hongjoong Kim. It was bad enough that he was smart as a whip and never needed to study, but on top of it all he was a dangerous, handsome, irresistible bad boy.

He gave me a wink, a sly smile resting on his lips. I gave him the same reaction I always did: a blank face. There had been multiple times he had tried to rile me up, whether that be say something flirty or wink, or “accidentally” touch my shoulder, and I refused to give him the satisfaction of any reaction. I would keep a blank face, hoping that he would leave me alone.

I wasn’t immune to his charms. I felt butterflies in my stomach every time he looked at me just like any other girl he tried it on, but I didn’t want him to know that. The biggest reaction I had given him was an eyebrow quirk at most.

I could tell it bothered him. I knew he was frustrated that he couldn’t get me to blush or stutter my words, and that may have been part of why he kept up his antics. Probably the entire reason, knowing him. Had he not been a fuckboy, I might have fallen for him. Might have.

I returned my eyes to my book and heard his footsteps walk past me, headed to the very back of class. His usual spot.

“Alright ladies and gentlemen,” A loud clap could be heard from the front of the room, our professor signalling the start of class, “It is time for your final. I hope you all are well prepared. I ask that you remove anything from your desk aside from a pencil and I will begin to hand out the tests. You may leave as you finish, just make sure to hand me your tests before you leave. Good luck.”

Book already off my desk, I gripped my pencil, hoping six hours of studying was enough.

“Thank you.” I muttered to my professor as he placed the stack of papers on my desk.

Here goes nothing, I suppose.

-

I handed in my test with a smile, hoping that I’d pass. Taking a deep breath I stepped out of the classroom, seeing a familiar face. At the noise of my footsteps Hongjoong looked up from his phone with a devilish smile, eyes staring me down. I must’ve not noticed he turned in his test before mine, not that I was surprised. He always finished his test the quickest out of all of us.

“How’s it going, pretty-in-pink?”

Pink was my favorite color and and I wore pink clothes often, unfortunately it had earned me several unwanted nicknames, all coming from Hongjoong.

I barely bothered him a glace, “I have a name.” 

“But your nicknames are so unique to you. Don’t you love them?”

“Can’t say I do.” I walked away, not interested in entertaining him any longer than I already had.

“Farewell, princess.” He fleeted me with a honey-like voice.

Suppressing an eye roll, I gripped the straps of my backpack, ecstatic to get away from him. The more time I spent away from him the better. The less time I was with him meant there was less of a chance for me to get attached to him. I refused to let that happen.

After I left the building I grabbed a coffee and walked to the library, bracing the cold weather. I only had one final left and I needed to make sure I studied enough. Just one last push before I was done for the semester. Taking the elevator up to the third floor, I saw a familiar face who smiled at me and I sat down at his table.

“Hey! How do you think you did on the final?” Lia asked me as I took my laptop out.

“Honestly I don’t know. I don’t want to say I passed because knowing my luck, if I do I’ll fail it. I knew the majority of the answers though, so there’s that.”

“That’s a positive.” She cocked her head, observing the way my eyes were glued to my laptop, “So what are you studying for now?”

“Criminal Psychology. I don’t take it until late tomorrow but I wanna get some studying in.”

“You’ve been studying for hours, you’ll be fine. Let’s just go shopping instead.”

My ears perked and I slowly raised my head, “Damn you. You know I’m not gonna turn you down.”

A wide smile formed on her face as she placed her hands behind her head, “What are friends for?”

“Oh don’t look so cocky.”

“Why not? I’m pretty sure I’ve won here. Now let’s get going.”

Lia stood up and slid on her backpack, a smile still plastered on her face. Just as I was placing my laptop in my own backpack I heard a string of male voices and a mention of my name.

I gave Lia a look and, curiosity taking over, I snuck closer to the direction of the voices to see a group of men at a table hid behind a large stack of bookshelves. There were four of them, not a one of them sitting properly in a chair. Two were sitting on top of the table, another with his legs propped on the table, the other sitting upon a backpack which itself was on a chair. I could only see two of their faces and didn’t recognize either.

“We’ve gotta invite the token good girl, right?” A tall man with dark hair smiled, leaning back on the table.

A man with distinct dimples, clad in all black scoffed, “Y/n? Like she’d go to a party anyway.”

“She might.” Hongjoong tiled his head, allowing me to see him, black earrings swaying as he looked at the man with dimples.

Oh. He’s there, too.

“She dresses like she still believes in the tooth fairy.” A man with a blonde ponytail scoffed, “You think she’s gonna come to a party with people like us?”

I grabbed Lia’s arm to prevent her from storming over. She was upset, I was too, but I wanted to keep listening. Still, I couldn’t deny the pang of hurt I felt as I looked down at my pink skirt and cropped top. Was it a crime to like the color pink?

And I thought I looked cute today...

“You should be the last person to judge someone over the way the dress, Yeosang. You never wear anything but black. If she likes it, then she likes it. Fuck you.” Hongjoong bit back.

I felt tears welling up in my eyes. I didn’t know why he defended me, maybe he was just defending fashion for fashion’s sake and it had nothing to do with me, but it was still nice of him.

Yeosang smiled, “Damn someone’s aggressive, huh? Someone might almost think you’ve got feelings for the girl.”

Hongjoong remained silent.

“Ooh is she still not reacting to your desperate attempts to woo her?”

Hongjoong quickly became defensive, “Listen, I’m not-”

“Okay we’re not getting into this. Just invite her, you never know what she’ll say.” The dark-haired man said to Hongjoong, “And invite her friend, too. She wouldn’t go alone.”

“Yeah that’s a fair point. I’ll talk to them next time I see them.”

I turned to face Lia, whispering in her ear, “Let’s go. Please.”

Her face told me that she would much rather confront them, but changed as my eyes began to water once more. She nodded and put an arm around me, leading me out of the library.

A tear fell down my cheek as we walked. I raised my hand to wipe my face when Lia did it for me. She pulled me into a tight hug, running her hands through my hair.

“Don’t you think for a second that you’re any less of amazing. Fuck them for not seeing it.”

As she spoke more tears began to fall and my breath hitched, “But-t they-”

“No. There’s no excuse for being shitty to you, especially when you haven’t done anything to wrong them.”

I nodded, trying my best to believe her and steady my breathing.

“What can I do for you? What can I do to help?”

Releasing Lia from my tight grip I stepped back and looked in her eyes, “Nothing. Let’s just go shopping.”

My friend nodded and slipped her hand into my own, something she would always do when I needed comfort. I squeezed her warm hand, following her footsteps as she led me to her car.

“So...you’re not gonna go to the party are you?”

“Yeah I don’t think so.”

She let out a hum in approval and nodded, opening the car door for me.

As much as I wanted to take my mind off of the boys’ words, I couldn’t. No amount of retail therapy seemed to help that. I knew Lia was doing her best to make me feel better and I felt a bit guilty for bringing down the mood. She scoffed when I told her, making eye contact and emphasizing that she simply wanted to make me feel better.

Sooner than I liked, we had to part. Lia had a class in thirty minutes and I had to help out in an on-campus activity. She gave me a tight hug and a small smile, bidding me adue.

I was the Vice President of our Activities Planning Board and as such was in charge of setting up an Academic Bowl for the competing students. Unfortunately, I was having trouble setting up the large tables and my small frame just made it harder. I was confident anyone around could see that I was struggling and I huffed, hoping no one would look my way. It didn’t help that I was outside in the middle of campus, where anyone just walking by could see me.

“Do you need any help?”

I turned to find Hongjoong with his dark backpack slung over his shoulder, a concerned look on his face. Had I not desperately needed help, I would have refused.

“Yeah I do. Hold this, will you?” I nodded at the opposite side of the table I was struggling to hold.

He appeared shocked that I accepted his offer, but I didn’t dwell on it and instead lifted the table. We worked in silence aside from a few words of instruction I gave him, and I was thankful for the lack of distraction. When we set up the last table I placed my hands on my hips, looking at the tables.

Hongjoong crossed his arms, “Why were you doing this alone?”

“No one else signed up to help for the Academic Bowl, so I did it myself.” He gave a confused look so I clarified my position.

“Of course you’re the Vice President.” Hongjoong muttered.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I faced him, feeling slightly offended.

He shrugged, “I know you’re just involved in a lot. I’m not surprised.”

Ignoring his comment, I took the conversation another direction. “Why did you help me?”

“You needed help, princess.” He answered simply.

I nodded, ignoring the nickname. “Well...thanks.”

A moment of silence followed until Hongjoong broke it, “Hey listen, there’s a party this weekend I want you to go.”

“Why?” I cocked my head.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t know anyone that will be there.”

“You know me.”

“That’s not exactly an incentive.”

He scoffed in mock offense, “Okay first of all, ouch. Second, what if I sweeten the deal?”

My eyebrows raised, lips forming a smile, “Oh yeah? What could that possibly be?”

He faltered for a moment, his voice lowering seemingly without intent, “That’s the first time I’ve seen you smile. You’re beautiful.”

I turned from him, trying to will any semblance of a flustered expression off my face. “You were saying before?”

Hongjoong chuckled, “I’ll drive. You can even invite your friend if you want.”

“Lia?”

“Yeah. If it makes you more comfortable.”

At first, I wanted to say no. At first, I wanted to continue my streak of refusing any advance he made on me. But looking at his kind eyes, completely devoid of any malintent, I felt my heart flutter. When my mind thought back to how he had defended me in the library I felt a warmth bubbling in my chest. I pretended to ponder for a moment, even though I already knew my answer.

“Okay but I don’t...I don’t think I should tell Lia.”

“Why’s that?”

“She kinda hates you.”

He looked taken aback, “Might I ask why?”

I sighed, crossing my arms, “Don’t worry about it. So where is this party?”

He filled me in on the details and I did my best to keep up my neutral façade. I wouldn’t admit it, but I was ecstatic to see him outside of campus, my will of staying away from him faltering by the minute.

-

I stood in front of my closet for what seemed like hours, desperately trying to find something that would match the occasion. I laughed a bit to myself as I looked at the section of black clothes I had. I went through a bit of an emo phase in middle school and I just couldn’t bring myself to get rid of any of them. I debated avoiding black clothes all together, but the words of Yeosang rang in my head and I bit the inside of my cheek.

Fine. I’ll change it up. But I’ll be damned if I give up on pink.

Taking a deep breath I slipped into a light pink leather skirt reaching mid-thigh with black fishnets. I put on a black leather jacket over my black see through shirt exposing my lacy bra underneath, my pink shoes on last.

I took several deep breaths and observed myself in the mirror. It was a change, definitely. I didn’t mind black, but I wouldn’t wear just black alone. I wanted it to be more feminine.

I heard a car horn outside my apartment much sooner than I expected. Bracing for Hongjoong’s reaction, I stepped outside. I was greeted with a smug smile, the man adorning it seeming as confident as a god until he observed my clothes, his eyebrows raising.

Hongjoong’s eyes scanned over me, taking in my abrupt fashion change, “I still wasn’t entirely certain you’d go. Much less looking like this.”

My lips quirked into half-smile, “Well I can’t show up looking like I normally do.”

“Why not?”

My heart swelled at the genuine confusion evident on his face. “Some people don’t care for the way I dress.” I took a breath and continued, “I heard you and your friends in the library.”

I forced myself to look him in the eyes. I could see the gears turning in his head as he put the pieces together, a scowl forming on his face. “You don’t have to change a goddamn thing. You look great, don’t get me wrong, but you look great in pink, too. And I’m sorry if he made you feel otherwise.”

I shook my head. “It’s alright, I actually kinda like it.”

“You definitely make it work.” He swallowed, voice lowering.

“Then maybe I should wear a bit of black more often.”

The man gave a thousand dollar smile, quirking a brow that left my panties feeling slightly damp. He motioned to the car door, “Hop in, cutie.”

A friendly string of conversation followed us as Hongjoong drove. I felt my nerves starting to dissipate, his smile I once despised now bringing me comfort. And really, he was much funnier than I had believed. I found myself laughing with him more than I had in a long time. I knew my walls were falling, but I wasn’t trying to fight it anymore.

Why the hell not? He’s kind enough, and he isn’t even close to being hard on the eyes.

The car drive was much quicker than I expected, although how quickly I was unfamiliar with my surroundings through me for a loop. The trees around us became more sporadic and the sun set quicker than what seemed normal. I fidgeted slightly, prompting Hongjoong to look over at me. He intertwined my fingers with his own and I smiled, secretly welcoming his touch.

“Hey, don’t worry. I’m right here with you, okay?”

I nodded, grasping onto his hand tightly. Before I knew it, my eyes locked with the building in front of us. I took in the abandoned building in front of me, eyes widening slightly as I observed its poor condition. Large windows were shattered, vines were growing around pillars, grass peaking through what once was concrete.

“This is the most sketchy place I’ve ever seen in my life.” I spoke, feeling slightly alarmed by the building but comforted by Hongjoong’s presence.

“Oh come on, it’s not that bad.”

“I literally just saw a rat run out a broken window.”

Hongjoong suppressed a smile and let go of my hand, opening his car door and telling me to stay in place as he walked around and opened the door on my side. I hesitated as I exited the car, a bit afraid of what could possibly be inside the building.

“We can leave at anytime. If you don’t want to go in we can leave right now. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

As sweet as he was being, I felt the need to prove to him that I was brave enough to enter, even if it did look like he was leading me to my death.

“Thank you, but I’m okay. We can go in.”

He smiled, leading me to an out-of-the-way entrance which seemed to lead to a different building entirely. I gave an involuntary “woah” as we entered the building. As horrific as it looked on the outside, it was gorgeous on the inside. Perfectly up kept brick walls hugged the sides of the building, lights were strung from the ceiling, arcade machines and dart boards were huddled in a corner, and of course, there was a bar with a seemingly unlimited amount of liquor. People were scattered all throughout, socializing and being generally loud. Everyone wore about the same color clothes as Hongjoong, dark as they could possibly get.

“How did you even find this place?”

“My friend Yeosang and I were just driving around and we found it one day. Decided to make it our hangout spot.”

I looked at him confused, still amazed at my surroundings. Hongjoong led me over to his familiar group of friends, assuring me that they wouldn’t bite, and introduced me to the seven men, four of which I hadn’t seen prior. I saw the color drain from a few of their faces as they saw me, likely from their words in the library, but I didn’t comment on it. Overall, they were much friendlier than I expected them to be.

“I’m gonna get a drink,” Hongjoong nudged me, “You want anything?”

“No that’s okay. I think I’m gonna check out the pinball machines. They look kinda cool.”

“You sure you don’t wanna stay by my side? I won’t take long.”

I shook my head, “I’ll be okay.”

He chucked, “Alright. I’ll grab a drink and I’ll head right over, princess.”

I bit my lip at the nickname and wandered over to the machines, surprisingly feeling comfortable in the environment, despite everything being so unfamiliar. All of the games were being used, some people clearly playing better than others.

I got lost in the artwork on the side of a particular pinball machine when a gruff voice caught my attention. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing here?”

I turned to meet a tall man with grey hair. He was young, likely in his mid-twenties, and reeked of cigarettes and a foul smell I couldn’t place.

A flash of fear ran through me and I tried to make my voice as confident as possible, “I was invited.”

“Well...that’s certainly a shame now, isn’t it? I wasn’t invited, but I decided to show up for a bit of fun anyway.”

He came closer to me, our height difference incredibly prominent as he leaned over me, “How about you give me a kiss, little thing?” I ran away as soon as the words left his mouth, hoping that he wouldn’t follow me but assuming he would. I dashed around quickly and sporadically around people, hoping I would lose him.

I looked around desperately for Hongjoong, sighing when I found him surrounded by his friends, laughing at something one of them said. I ran up to him and grabbed his arm, gaining his attention.

I hope this fucking works.

“I need you to kiss me.”

A look of confusion flashed in his eyes, “What?”

“Please kiss me.” I begged, eyes wide, disregarding the stares of his friends around us, hoping that if the man saw I was taken he’d leave me alone.

Without hesitation he wrapped his free hand around my waist—a cup of alcohol still in the other—and pulled me close, pressing his lips to my own. He kissed me hard, biting my bottom lip slightly and letting out a growl only I could hear. He wasn’t my first kiss, far from it, but no one had ever kissed me like he did. Just a kiss had never left me feeling weak at the knees. Just a kiss had ever made me feel so submissive, making me want to beg him to take me right on the spot, regardless of the fear in my veins. Even with the taste of alcohol still on his lips, his scent overtook me.

He pulled back, eyes darker than before, and raised a brow, “Care to tell me what that was about?”

Just then I realized my hands had been gripping his leather coat, pulling him just as close as he was pulling me. I looked over in the direction of where the man was before, not seeing him.

“A man was following me and he was trying to get me to kiss him a-and I didn’t know him...I just wanted him to leave me alone.”

His eyes narrowed at my words, a rage I hadn’t seen before taking over them, “What did he look like?”

“I-I don’t know he was tall and had grey hair and-”

He cursed under his breath. Keeping me just as close he turned to the men around him, their eyes narrowed as well.

“You heard that?” He asked his friends.

“Loud and clear.” San said, cracking his knuckles, a scowl on his face that scared me, even though I knew I wasn’t the one it was directed at.

“I thought we told him to never come back here.” Jongho snarled.

“We did.” Hongjoong said.

Seonghwa looked at me, nodding to Hongjoong, “Keep her safe and take her out of here. If he’s here I’m sure he’s brought friends. Yeosang, lead everyone out. We’ll take care of him.”

Hongjoong looked conflicted, obviously wanting to stay and fight, but gave into the older man’s command. “Be fucking safe,” he barked, but I could see the fear in his eyes as he looked at me, “Come on, we’re going.”

Seonghwa mumbled something to Hongjoong and he nodded in response, tossing his alcohol to the ground. I didn’t have time to ask questions as he led me out a back door, the darkness of the night equally horrifying and comforting, and quickly pushed me into his car, apologizing the entire time. He entered the key into the ignition and the car sprung to life.

“Uhh...maybe it’s not a good idea for you to drive. You’ve been drinking, right?”

“I had maybe two sips. I’ll drive safe, promise.”He gave me a small comforting smile, “Put your seatbelt on. Hold on tight, sweetheart.” His voice was calm but firm as he spoke. I nodded and did as he said, bracing as his car sped off, my heart beating in overtime.

The ride was a blur, the only things I could remember being Hongjoong’s calming voice, periodically reassuring me that things would be okay. We arrived at a foreign building which Hongjoong called his house, and only then did I let myself fall apart. I felt tears streaming down my face as my hands quivered, my head beginning to pound.

“Hey, hey look at me. You’re safe. You’re safe with me.” My teary eyes met his and I felt my heart break at the way he was looking at me, as if he had made me cry himself.

“Here, come on. Let’s get you inside, okay?”

My tears slowed as he carefully led me inside his house, sitting me down on his bed. He crouched down in front of me, wiping the tears from my face.

“I’m so sorry, princess. I didn’t realize he was going to be there. I never should’ve made you come along I’m so-”

“Who was that?”

Hongjoong sighed, “He used to be a friend of mine. We had a falling out and he became violent. One time he showed up at one of our parties with some friends of his to start a fight. We won and told him to never come back. Looks like he did.” He looked off into nowhere, regret clear on his face.

“You didn’t know,” I sniffled, “You couldn’t have known.”

I watched the muscles in his jaw tighten, his agitation still visible. I brought a hand out to reach his own, trying to comfort him. The loud ding of Hongjoong’s phone made me jump and he apologized profusely. As he took out his phone from his pants pocket I looked around his room for the first time. It looked exactly as I had expected, solid black furniture and so many band posters decorating the wall I could hardly tell what color his bedroom walls were.

Hongjoong spoke up, “I just got a text from Seonghwa. There were two other people there with him. My friends took care of them don’t worry, you’re safe.”

I nodded, pulling him into a hug and burying my face into his chest. “If you’re comfortable with it,” He started, “I’d like you to stay here. I want to know you’re safe.”

My eyes met his as he moved a hair out of my face, “I’m not pressuring you. If you don’t want to I understand.”

A hand of his ran up and down my back, tracing little patterns here and there, and I realized just how much I wanted to be with him.

“If it’s alright with you, I’d like to stay.”

He laughed, “What do you mean ‘if it’s alright with you’ I asked.”

I bit my bottom lip and looked down, a bit embarrassed.

Hongjoong laughed, “Hey, look at me.” He said in a commanding yet sweet tone that made my thighs press together. I glanced back up at him, his handsome features making me feel dizzy.

He chuckled, “What’s that look for? You got something to say to me?”

I hesitated, “Actually, I do have a question.”

“Which is?”

“Why did you chase after me?”

Hongjoong smiled, “You never gave a reaction to anything I tried. It confused me and piqued my curiosity. So I began to watch you and how you interacted with people. You’re gentle and sweet. You’re innocent and haven’t let the world tear you down. I admire that.”

He leaned closer to me, his lips brushing my ear, “And it turned me on beyond belief. I wondered how I could ruin you, thought about how I could turn you into a quivering mess as you beg for me.”

I shivered and pulled back slightly to look him in the eyes. His beautiful, dark eyes. Hongjoong let out a dark chuckle as he sat on his bed, lifting me on his lap. He gave an eyebrow raise and a crooked smile as my breath hitched while looking at him, taking him in.

How did I never notice how his dark hair falls to one side when he cocks his head and how he looks so endearing when it happens? How did I never pay attention to his soft pink lips that give way to his gorgeous smile and how much I’ve been dying to kiss them all this time? How did I not see the way his eyes form crescents when he smiles, making my heart grow ten times over?

Why did I never think to take note of how his deep voice makes my stomach do somersaults? Why was I so unaware of his tongue piercing that was leaving me wonder how it would feel on my skin? Why didn’t I observe the black painted nails of his that were currently dancing along my thighs, giving me goosebumps?

How and why did I never notice him?

“You’re such a good girl.”

And for the first time around him, I flushed.

He chuckled, “Oh? You like that?”

I nodded quickly and he said it again, smiling as my face heated up once more.

“It’s so good to see you react to what I say. I wonder...” Hongjoong leaned closer to me, “How will you react when you’re underneath me? Squirming and begging for me to touch you?”

I gave him a look of desperation and balled his shirt into my fist, trying to move him closer, “Please.”

Hongjoong lifted me off of him, quickly discarding my clothes followed by his own shirt. My eyes were guided down by his abs and I ran a hand across them without thinking, whimpering quietly.

“Is my baby girl getting needy?” He cooed.

I closed my eyes, once again nodding in embarrassment.

“How about we take care of that?”

He laid me down on the soft sheets of his bed, leaving me in anticipation as he pinned my hands above my head with a hand of his own. My eyes widened and he chuckled, running a single finger along my folds.

“You’re so unbelievably fucking wet...do I turn you on that much?”

I let out a small “yes” and he hummed in response. Placing a few kisses upon my lips, Hongjoong slowly entered two fingers into me and my back arched. His fingers curled, hitting a spot inside of me that’d I’d never been able to reach. I spread my legs as far as they could go, pleading for more, feeling tears prick my eyes.

Hongjoong spoke, his voice already dropping several octaves, “Keep your hands here, understand? I don’t want you moving them.”

I nodded, willing my hands to stay in place as his own moved to my hips, leaving kisses along my inner thighs.

“Hongjoong please.”

“Please what, princess?”

“Please touch me.”

“Oh, I think I can do better than that, don’t you?”

His lips attached to my core, tongue running through my folds and nose hitting my clit as I moaned pathetically. His hands held my hips down as I tried to buck them up, barely able to keep my hands above my head. After what felt like years, his mouth finally reached my clit and I cried out as his lips attached to it, sucking hard and leaving kitten licks. My high built up quickly and I came hard, my hands leaving their spot and pulling slightly on his hair.

“Thought I told you to keep your hands above your head, no?”

I mumbled an apology and he leaned over to kiss me, “You’re forgiven, darling.”

He seemed just as impatient as I was and without much begging the rest of his clothes were off, his dick teasing my entrance.

“God Hongjoong please I need you so bad.”

“I need you too, y/n.”

He fully entered me, cursing as he did so. I was so caught up in the feeling of him inside of me that I didn’t even register him asking me a question until he laughed at me.

“Feeling good, baby? Can’t even speak?”

I whimpered, nodding seeming to be the only thing I could manage to do. I felt his member twitch inside of me and I pleaded for him to fuck me, to give me anything. Hongjoong growled and jerked his hips up into me over and over, leaving me a moaning mess.

“Taking me so well, aren’t you? Such a good girl for me.”

The amount of praise he gave me caused a few tears to fall from my eyes, not realizing how bad I needed it until that moment. My walls clenched around him every time, causing him to groan and snap his hips into me even harder. Hongjoong’s eyes grew hazy, his dark hair sticking to his forehead.

“I’m close, darling. Be my good girl and cum for me”

His hand trailed down to my clit, rubbing tiny circles. My back arched as I came in time with him, our breaths synchronizing as we gasped for air.

He slowly pulled out of me and ran to the bathroom to grab a towel, cleaning me up. Hongjoong giggled and I raised a brow at him.

“I never thought you’d give me a chance. It’s almost like I’ve corrupted you.”

“You have. Aren’t you aware of the party I went to because of you? I almost died.”

Hongjoong laughed as he crawled into bed and pulled blankets over the both of us. He ran a hand through my hair, looking at me fondly, “You did not almost die.”

“Okay yeah but I could have. That’s what we should be focusing on here.”

“I think there’s something else I’d like to focus on.”

Hongjoong pulled me into a deep kiss, hand slithering down to my waist. His kisses trailed to my ear, a slight chuckle leaving his lips, “My pretty princess.”

I looked at him with doe eyes, slightly in awe of him, and wondered how I could’ve pushed him away for so long. I knew for certain that I had no intention of doing so ever again.

When I told him he smiled, “Good. You’ve had a grip on my heart since day one. I’d be a fool to let you get away from me.”

I blushed slightly, much to his entertainment. We snuggled up to each other in silence, listening to the sound of our synchronized breathing as I lulled to sleep, our warm fingers intertwined. My dreams filled of him.

“Sleep well, my princess. I’ll be right here when you wake.”

[goffilolo]

Revival of Midoriya Izuku: Chapter 4 "My depression may be chronic, but my ass is iconic"

I bet you didn't think you were ever gonna see an update. well neither did I. What can I say? writing with a broken hand is a struggle.

Link to the fic on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16929483/chapters/81090403

Izuku’s first day of high school was interesting, to say the least, or it would’ve been if he actually went to school instead of spreading mayhem amongst UA’s first years. Shinjuku Metropolitan has been rather lenient in regards to his attendance or lack of thereof, thanks to whatever bullshit Shin wrote to the school on his behalf to ensure that the faculty would accommodate his ‘condition’. Which is just fancy wording for ‘I got a get out of school card’. Truth be told, this is probably the best thing that the doctor has ever done for him since Izuku was nowhere near ready to return to mainstream education, not after everything that has happened in middle school. The last thing he needed were looks of pity and guilt-induced niceties from people who otherwise had no problem laughing at his misfortune.

So instead Izuku has decided to spend his time productively - if you could count tormenting your ex-childhood friend and having an accidental family reunion as such.

Uncle Shouta always had a bit of a mean streak to him, although it never really felt as such when Izuku himself interacted with him. From what little of his childhood he could remember that didn’t involve trauma and discrimination, his uncle was a somewhat kind, but grumpy man. He believed in a brand of tough love - that somehow did not correspond with the way his mother raised him in the slightest and went above and beyond for things and people he held close to his heart. Sure they haven’t seen each other since Izuku was 4, but if his uncle’s empty threats from today’s Quirk Apprehension Test are anything to go by, not much has changed.

Which brings him back to now; sitting in an empty classroom that he does not belong to - a school that he does not belong to, writing down his ever-so-detailed notes about the quirks he will only be able to admire from afar. Not much has changed , indeed.

It almost feels like a betrayal. Almost , being the operative word, because he has no reason to cling onto the things that he no longer cares about - should no longer care about, for they had died along with him that day on the roof, and were properly buried within the four walls that Izuku called his own during his stay in the hospital.

But well...looks like today Izuku is in a mood to dig up old corpses.

Metaphorically, that is.

“God, you’re still here!”

“Kacchan we’ve talked about this” he replied, rather dramatically “God is dead and all that’s left is me”

Kacchan clearly did not appreciate his superior sense of humour, if the lack of response is anything to go by. “No seriously, why are you still here?”

“I could ask you the same”

“I actually study here you fuckwit!” the blond exclaimed in his ever explosive fashion “Besides I had to come back and get my change of clothes since that demonic pet of yours was sitting on them when we were all leaving for the test”

“Huh, that actually reminds me...where’s Bandit?”

“Oi, don’t change the subject you shitty Deku” replied Bakugou, as he kicked one of the chairs over towards the desk that was currently occupied by Izuku and slumped down in it in a way that would perhaps appear as non-caring to absolutely no one “I didn’t know your uncle was a pro-hero.”

Ah, so that’s what he was bothered about.

“That makes the two of us”

“Wait, really?!”

“Honestly Kacchan! Did you really think that IF I knew my uncle was a pro-hero that I would be able to ever shut up about it?”

“No way in hell!”

“Exactly!”

Well, now that the topic of his uncle has been cleared up, there wasn’t much else to talk about, at least not much that wouldn’t result in collateral damage or a Bakugou shitshow 2.0. Both of the boys were well aware of it of course, but let it never be said that either of them could be stopped by things like common sense, especially when it came to avoiding conversational land mines.

“So...what are you scribbling over here?” asked Bakugou in a rather poor and possibly the most awkward attempt at establishing small talk that has ever been known to man and sheep kind alike.

“Ok, no! That is not happening” snapped Izuku, who very much saw where this was going and was having none of it “We are NOT having a civil conversation!”

“Why the fuck not?!” replied the blond, his anger as booming and apparent as his quirk.

“Because that is not something we DO Kacchan!” shouted the teen, banging his hands against the desk, his notebook long forgotten.

“Well, maybe we should?!” exclaimed Bakugou, who was quick to anger, yet quicker to notice his ex-friend’s unusual mood as he tried to make an effort to de-escalate the situation.

“Oh? Should we really? !” sneered Izuku, feeling the kind of anger and disdain he hasn’t felt in a long time, not since that fateful day in the ward.

“That’s rich coming from you” he continued as he stood up form the chair, unable to keep still in his fury as he circled the classroom “All you ever did was shout at me, insult me and throw baseless accusations at me left and right for god knows how long, but suddenly YOU want to have a conversation with me? Isn’t it enough that we kinda talked about our feelings that one time when I was still stuck in the psych ward?!”

Honestly, what do you expect Kacchan?” asked Izuku, feeling raw and hysteric and all kinds of wrong, spilling his metaphorical guts to his ex-bully/friend “That we will just start having normal conversations like nothing ever happened, act like we’re friends or some shit? Because let’s be honest, we haven’t been friends for a very long time, that ship has sunk long before I even attempted suicide! ”

“Don’t you think I know that?!” screamed Bakugou, feeling equally angry, but mostly out of his depth in the situation. He expected Deku to possibly mock him for his awkward attempts at small talk. What the blond didn’t expect was for him to snap, in a way that was somewhat familiar but not quite, as even the few times they’ve spoken back when Izuku was in the hospital or when he got released, his tempter felt controlled in a way it was not at the moment. Katsuki wasn’t sure what exactly triggered such a strong response, but he was not looking forward to having another fight, at least not one initiated by him.

“I’m not trying to pretend it didn’t happen” he explained “I just want to move forward. I’m not the same asshole I was last year and neither are you, so I don’t want to be stuck on how things used to be ! It makes me feel like I’m going nowhere.”

“Ok! Fine! You wanna talk?! Then let me fuckin TELL you something! You asked me what I was ‘scribbling’ over here?” exclaims Izuku, as he stomps his way back towards the desk and snatches his notebook, waving it aggressively in front of Bakugou “IT’S THE SAME STUFF I’VE BEEN SCRIBBLING THE ENTIRE GODDAMN TIME!” he screamed “Those quirk analysis notebooks you used to mock me for? It’s another one of those because as it turns out  I still AM the same asshole I was last year! Now then, can YOU tell ME how many of those I’ve had?”

“Thirteen…” mutters Bakugou, feeling like he’s walking into a proverbial trap.

“Good boy, you can count! Now, can you tell me what number does it say on this one?” sneers Izuku sarcastically as he points once again at the notebook in question.

“Is this a trick question? There’s fuckin nothing on it”

“EXACTLY! And you want to know why?” screamed the distressed teen, no longer feeling angry, but tired and vulnerable, unable to stop himself from having a conversation he didn’t even want to be a part of “Because these notes used to serve a purpose, a purpose I no longer have. Hero Analysis for the Future , to be exact. But guess what Kacchan…” he whispered, no longer looking at the red eyes that used to bring him so much pain “...I no longer have a future…”

The blond hung his head in shame as he listened to his childhood friend break down in tears while hiding his face behind the very notebook that started their argument, all the while Trash Bandit who woke up due to their screaming was trying to get his owner’s attention with pathetically quiet ‘baaah’s.

“You have the right to be angry with me, after all this shit I put you through” stated Bakugou after what felt like an endless silence broken only by Izuku’s stuttering sobs. He never thought of himself as a coward, but at this moment he could not find enough bravery to sit face to face with the crying teen.

“I KNOW that you shithead-” replied Izuku as he shakily tried to take a breath in between the sobs “-but what good is that gonna do?! You’ve actually admitted that the way you treated me was wrong, hell you even voluntarily went to therapy! You’re basically going through a whole-ass redemption arc and what do I do? * sob * I’m still stuck in the past and I can’t let go of my grudges, which isn’t doing me or you any favours. I’ve told you to get your shit together, and this is exactly what you’re trying to do and instead of being h-* hic *- happy for you I’m mad-”

His rant broke off as he took another breath with tears still rolling down the freckled cheeks despite the boy’s best efforts. Izuku slumped down in his seat and with shaking hands he took out a cigarette and lighter from his backpack that was still hanging by the hook on the side of the desk. And although putting the cigarette in his mouth was relatively easy, lighting it was another matter. As Izuku grew more frustrated with the quiver in his hands, so did Bakugou. The blond became impatient as he grumbled “give it here damn it” much more quietly and gently than he normally would’ve done as he leaned forward, all the while grabbing the other teen by his shoulder with one hand, as he used to the other to quickly light the cigarette with a small explosion. Izuku’s flinch at the sudden but familiar noise and heat did not go unnoticed.

To say that Izuku was shocked by his ex-friend’s action would’ve been an understatement, but he was pleased nonetheless. If anything it proved his point that Kacchan was trying to be nicer to him, even if the attempts were somewhat awkward. The freckled teen, feeling only marginally better, leaned back in his chair facing the ceiling as he continued to blow circles of smoke up into the air, trying to regain his original train of thought.

“You’d think they would have a fire alarm in here or something” mused Bakugou as he stared at the disappearing circles.

“Hmm” replied Izuku, absentmindedly “You’d think”

The silence has once again stretched between the 2 boys, although this time it felt less oppressive in its need to be filled. Bakugou was happy to wait for Deku to finish what he started, it was the least the blond could do seeing as he was at fault for the current state of things between them.

“I’m so fuckin angry...” stated Izuku as he crashed the burnt out cigarette against the desk, which Bakugou conviniently ignored seeing as the desk was his. “I’m so fuckin angry-” he repeated despite his tone and words not matching at all “-because this proves that you could’ve gotten your shit together this whole time” he continues while gesturing vaguely between the two of them.

“You could’ve stopped this bullshit and apologised to me!” exclaims Izuku in a tone that is half resigned and half accusing “You could’ve spared me the misery, and yet you didn’t. I feel like I’ve suffered for nothing-”

“You did!” interrupted the blond.

“What?”

“You’ve suffered for nothing” clarified Bakugou “There’s literally NO good reason for you to have gone through even half the shit you did”

“I dunno about that Kacchan” teased Izuku “I’m pretty sure the reason is sitting right in front of me”

“I said no good reason damn it, don’t go around twisting my words you fuckin Deku!”

And Izuku couldn’t help but break out in laughter, because he was pretty sure that this was the first time ever that Bakugou had made a joke at his own expense and this moment was going to live in his brain rent free from now on.

“Oh God, Kacchan-” he wheezed, trying to stop himself from laughing “You were right, you really aren't the same asshole that you were last year!”

“I sure fuckin hope not” replied Bakgou who was just as close to laughing “Otherwise I would’ve had to demand refund for all of those shitty therapy sessions”

“Look at us Kacchan” said Izuku, his laugh now subdued “We’re still a fuckin mess”

“I guess we are” agreed the blond as he stared down at his friend’s notebook in a thoughtful expression.

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

After the truthfully embarrassing heart-to-heart with Kacchan, Izuku wanted to do nothing more than sink into the void for the next eternity, or at least until he gets his reminder text that he’s running late for yet another therapy session. Unfortunately neither of these options were viable seeing as he was on a self-appointed mission to catch up to his uncle. The boy hoped that uncle Shouta would still be somewhere on the premises seeing as his ugly-ass sleeping bag was still in the classroom. Izuku used that to his advantage as he gave the sleeping bag to Bandit who promptly sniffed it and began to follow the scent of a premature-midlife-crisis. Who knew that sheep could make such good hounds?

Bandit had dutifully led their owner through an ever inconvenient maze of corridors, which eventually ended with the two entering the teacher’s lounge like they had every right to be there (which they kinda did, shoutout to Nedzu!). As expected, Izuku’s uncle was in the lounge, surrounded by fellow members of staff as they tried (unsuccessfully, at least by Izuku’s standards) to get any information out of him regarding his class this year. Uncle Shouta for the most part looked like he’d rather be doing anything else and so Izuku has made an executive decision to insert himself obnoxiously into the situation.

“In my humble opinion-” he said, as he sat down next to his uncle, while Bandit jumped up on his lap “that Mineta kid should’ve been expelled. Like, we get it uncle, he has potential ” continued Izuku, as he spat the word distastefully “But how far is that potential gonna get him when all he does is harass the entire female population, like every other mediocre straight guy with self awareness of a sea cucumber?”

“A sea cucumber? Really?” asked uncle Shouta, sounding like the unimpressed bitch that he is.

“I mean don’t get me wrong” he continues, completely ignoring the unnecessary commentary “Straight people are already embarrassing as they are, but this guy is on another level, the kinda level that usually leads to a straight jacket, am I right?! Hah- I just made a pun!”

“The little listener does have a point, Shouta” replied Present Mic.

“Also, did he just say uncle ? Shouta, is there anything you’d like to tell us?” asked Midnight, you know, like a traitor.

“No”

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

It wasn’t until they walked past the gates of the school that his uncle finally stopped in his tracks to voice at least a portion of the questions that have been bubbling in his mind since the impromptu family reunion with his nephew.

“Izuku” says Shouta, with as much concern as an uncle-who-you-haven’t-seen-in-almost-a-decade is allowed to voice “What the fuck?”

“Look, I heard that question far too often in my lifetime, mostly from my therapist, so you’re gonna have to be a bit more specific” replies Izuku sounding like the unimpressed bitch that he hopes to evolve into through the sheer power of genetics and generational trauma.

“Look kid-” says the hobo looking man that has the privilege of being related to Izuku as he puts his hands together, takes a deep breath and prays to whichever God he believes is not yet dead for some guidance on how to handle this “-as much as I’d love to elaborate on the sheer amount of confusion I am experiencing right now due to your questionable way of life, I do actually have to go on a patrol so this conversation is gonna have to be postponed. In the meanwhile give your mother my regards, and I’ll hopefully see you in the near future when you decide once again to wreak havoc in my classroom.”

“No” replies the freckled teen in a total disregard for other people’s prior engagements, thus truly earning his title of a problem child.

“What do you mean no ? Izuku, I have a job to do!”

Instead of replying, Izuku has decided to simply pull a pro-gamer move, by quickly taking out a familiar pair of handcuffs from the side pocket of his backpack, cuffing one side to his uncle’s hand and the other to his own. That on its own is probably not particularly impressive, however it is the speed of the action that has earned it the title of a pro-gamer move, which Izuku is quite proud of. His uncle on the other hand is definitely less so, looking at his cuffed wrist like it has somewhat betrayed him.

“Please tell me you did not just do that”

“I did not just do that”

After wasting about 10 minutes of his life on fruitless struggle of trying to get the handcuffs off like an untrained dog trying to chew off its own leash, Aizawa Shouta; the underground hero Eraserhead, the infamous Erasure Hero has slumped in defeat, internally swearing to himself to one day get revenge on his unruly nephew.

“God, I am so going to have a talk with my sister about this” he says, as if a threat of authority had any meaning to the green headed teen.

“Yeah, no shit, that’s the whole point, we’re going to my house now” replies the teen, completely disregarding any attempt at ‘ an adult asserting their authority ’ over him.

“I still have to go on a patrol tonight” repeats Shouta, as if it was somewhat relevant.

“That sounds like a you problem”

[curly-bangtan]

Heatwave Drabble #9: sweet night (M)

[Heatwave // Godless // Heatwave Drabbles] <- must read first!

Pairing: Taehyung x reader

Summary: After a series of miscommunications and immaturity that lead to a rip through both your friendship and ambiguous relationship, this last turn of events could be the deciding factor of whether or not you’ve lost each other from your lives forever.

Genre: angst, smut, fwb au, roommate au, f2l

Warnings: SO much angst and feels, slight slow burner and a lot of build up, unprotected sex, hot tub, oral (m&f), food play, crying, i don’t want to give too much away eeee

Word count: 23.8k a monster i know ;-;

A/N: The end is finally here!! It’s late but trust me when I say I worked all day on this and did not do an ounce of revision today because I wanted to get this done. I’ve been writing this series, and this ending in particular, for so long and have been so nervous about getting this perfect. So please enjoy~

(quite a few ppl also couldn’t be tagged from the taglist and it’s 3am so i honestly dk how to fix it ;-;)

.

You used to think heartbreak was for the weak, after all you can only hurt as much as you let yourself be hurt. So... maybe you are weak. Because that ever-constricting ache in your chest has not diminished even a bit since that day you left him.

Four weeks. Not a word to each other.

It’s a hollowing feeling - someone you’ve had in your life every day for the past few years, a constant companion, suddenly completely absent in a blink of an eye. You don’t think you could put it into words even if you tried how this affected you. Life feels so foreign, your personality dulls.

The anger you felt for him dissipated quicker than you’d anticipated, but the anger at yourself only grew. No matter how you look at it now, you can only see it as being your fault.

But the decision to part ways was for the best, you have to keep reminding yourself. You shouldn’t be around each other anymore.

Whenever you see him around campus, you spin around and speed off the other way, hoping that he doesn’t see you too. Okay, you are weak, okay. But your heart twists at the sign of him, not just squeezes but twists into thorned knots. It’s the sort of pain that takes from you, makes you a different person unrecognisable to yourself.

You had moved in with Lotta. When she asked you what happened, all you had said was that you two had a massive fight and fell out. She knew better than to prod further from the telltale signs that you were close to tears from a simple question: the trembling throat, pursed lips, uncharacteristically quiet voice. And you were grateful because you knew you couldn’t afford to be asked about him without breaking.

The bed feels awfully cold in the nights of early February. And every night, you stare at his name on the screen of your phone, contemplating. One tap and you can hear his voice. One tap and your longing could be absolved. You always almost give in to this overpowering urge itching within your fingers. But you wouldn’t even know what to say to him.

Hi. How are you. I miss you like crazy and I think about you everyday but I know we should keep our distance but I’m just so sorry for everything.

You liked to think that maybe this break is just temporary, you both need space from each other because the toxicity built up so quickly that neither of you could think or breathe. But the longer time is spent away from him, the more you convince yourself that it wasn’t meant to be. It was never going to work; you knew this from the start but had been too optimistic.

And the mistakes you both made… You can’t forget them and the scars you’ve left on each other; you don’t think he’d be able to forgive you, not any time soon anyway.

You wonder if he’s doing the same, if he too is agonising over every wrong step he took to lead you two to this state, or if he’s cursing you for destroying everything. For his sake, you hope he’s moving on. Because that, for some reason, feels so much better than knowing that he’s crying over you.

The strange thing is that you had been the one to break things off. The look of lostness in his red-rimmed eyes laced with an unmissable reluctance will always be an enigma to you. Because he was furious, distraught. So why was he shocked by your ending? How was he not done with you?

That day you left, he wordlessly stood next to you as you packed your things. When you handed him his grey hoodie, the one you had gradually claimed as your own under mutual tacit agreement over your months together, it had truly felt like the end.

“Are... Are you sure? I don’t mind if you keep it.” He had said, voice raw from the arguing but also the tears he was fighting back.

You couldn’t look at him, you knew you would fall apart if you did. “I think it’s best if you take it back.” Why did he want you to keep it anyway?

Something was missing in both your voices when you spoke to each other, reflective of the heart-shaped void you had carved into the other. Everytime you think back to that moment, you want to kick yourself. You could have at least kept the hoodie - that way you could at least have a piece of him to cling onto in your lonely desperate nights.

Because now you have nothing. Nothing of his in your life, no reminder at all that he ever existed with you except the memories embedded so deeply in your heart that it hurts.

No one ever mentions him to you; you think they got the hint from Lotta not to. He’s a ghost.

Haunting you with his heartbroken eyes that shattered at the sight of Jimin. You’ll never forget that.

Sometimes, you’ll just be having dinner with her, and you’ll be crushed with this suffocating wave of missing him. It knocks the breath out of you. Because you can momentarily forget that it’s over, and mistaken Lotta as him. So when you look up and realise that it isn’t him, he’s not here, it’s as if someone is digging their nails into your scabbing wound and releasing the blood of your heartache once more.

And Lotta would look up and ask you, “What? Is the rice overcooked?” And you would want to cry because he would always overcook the rice.

And sometimes, you would just want to blurt it all out to her, right then and there. Tell her everything that had happened with you and him, because - god - keeping it inside is exhausting. But the words get trapped at your throat, unable to be enunciated. Which is just your forte, isn’t it? Not being able to say how you feel...

You are a competitive person, that has never been a secret. You are used to winning at everything you wish to win at, it is in your nature.

So losing Taehyung has been the biggest loss of your life. It had been a gamble from the start, whether it would work or not. There were so many signs pointing in the direction of yes, this is going to work, you love each other so much. Because still to this day, you believe that you are soulmates, and you were one step, three words, away from a happy ending. But then, caught up in this game you played, you hadn’t realised that he had been yours from the very start if you had only just accepted him. And that was your downfall: your failure to see his love for you in the form of his actions, rather than the words of validation you were seeking.

And thus, you had lost your lover, your best friend, your other half, completely of your own doing.

The realisation haunts you every night.

.

It’s Galentine’s Day. In this household, you don’t say the V word.

Lotta has booked a weekend trip to celebrate your mutual [forever alone] relationship status. Some strawberry farm in the countryside for friends to pick berries and make jam and bond over their mutual loneliness. Apparently that’s a thing nowadays.

It would have excited you before, a trip like this. The idea sounds much like a sweet attempt from her to cheer you up, (you haven’t been trying to hide how down you’ve been), so as much as you wanted to just wallow on this shitty holiday, you agreed to go with her.

And to be honest, this might be exactly what you need. A weekend away with your best friend away from the city could heal you. Best friend? Should you call her that? You’re not sure because that title has always referred to someone else previously, someone you shouldn’t be thinking about.

To your credit, you’ve been doing better. You think about him less and less each day; you stopped crying after the first week. You’ve always been a progressor with astounding growth. It’s not to say that you’re doing fine - that would be a reach - because small things such as a cup of hot chocolate would still remind you of him and the string of memories that come with it. But you think your heart is finally slowly starting to stitch itself back together.

Galentine’s weekend just so happened to fall on the weekend of Lotta’s Geophysics trip to Barcelona, as inconvenient as it is. But, rather than letting this disrupt her plans, Lotta had been adamant about going.

“My flight lands at 7am. That’s two hours before we are supposed to meet and depart from the coach station. That’s plenty of time.” She had waved away your concern when this topic of discussion came up last week.

“You never know with flight timings. We could just blow it off and have just as nice of a weekend at home watching movies.” Strawberry picking sounds great for the soul, but so does Netflix and ice cream. “We could have a Saw marathon like we’ve been wanting to.”

“Saw marathon on Valentine’s day?” Lotta scoffed at your suggestion

You blinked. “What’s wrong with that? We love scary films, it’s our thing.”

“It doesn’t matter, I’ve already paid for the trip and it’s non-refundable.”

“I’ll subsidise the cost, there’s no point forcing this trip if it won’t work with your schedule. You haven’t even let me pay you back for my half of the trip yet.” Lotta is like that with money, overly generous when completely unasked for. If you don’t mention paying her back, she would never have asked you to.

“It’s my treat to you, shut up. Just trust me, Y/N, I’ll make it to the coach on time, I always make it on time.” She shook you by the shoulders. “We’ll make our separate ways to the meeting point Saturday morning and everything else will go smoothly. There’s no reason to cancel the trip. Plus, V day is on Sunday, so do you really want to see all those shitty ass rom-com Netflix suggestions or would you rather be enjoying the great outdoors? Trust, we need a break in the countryside. It’s going to be an amazing weekend, you’ll thank me later.”

Right now, as you make a final check through your lightly-packed bag before you leave the house, you find yourself agreeing. You do need the fresh naturally strawberry-scented air to expel all these negativity from you. You want to feel yourself again, be happy and loud and excitable.

Collecting for your trip ticket that Lotta had left on your desk before she went to Barcelona, you decide right now that: yes, this will be an amazing weekend. Law of attraction and power of manifestation. Lotta’s flight will be punctual and you will make some fond memories together.

You’ll be okay.

You arrive at the meeting spot twenty minutes early because you are known to be prone to tardiness. The tour guide welcomes you keenly. He is a young, twenty-something you reckon, tall man, graced with dimples and honey skin. You think you would find him attractive in different circumstances, but you haven’t gotten to the stage of feeling attraction for anyone else yet.

“Your ticket with the barcode, miss?” His smile is charming, you guess. It’s more an observation than an enticing quality. You hand it over to him wordlessly and watch him scan the creased piece of paper. “Great, that’s perfect. And your partner?”

“Partner?” You frown, but realise what he means. This is a Galentine’s programme, of course he expects you not to be alone. “Oh, she should be coming, we came separately because she’s just getting off a flight right now.”

“Oh! That’s very sweet of her to rush back to spend this weekend with you.” The endearment in his smile heightens.

“Yeah… She’s the best.” There’s no particular reason for your awkwardness. You’ve always been a social butterfly, yet lately, you’re keeping more to yourself, avoiding unnecessary conversations because your mind is always too preoccupied.

“I am Jae, by the way, and I’ll be your guide for the weekend. I hope you have a wonderful time with us this Valentine's day. Hop on board.” Giving him a polite nod, you climb onto the empty bus, noting the swirly hearts beside the large red words ‘STRAWBERRY LOVE’ on the side of the big white vehicle. Kind of tacky, but the idea of this programme is kind of cute so you guess it’s suiting. After assessing row after row, you plop down at a window seat you deem worthy and settle your bag on the seat beside you, head leaning on the glass as you await your partner.

Dear partner, please don’t be late, you text her.

Soon, other participants of this trip start arriving, filing a crooked queue in front of the tour guide to register. You don’t pay much attention to them except to examine for Lotta’s face. The coach is set to leave at 9:00 on the dot in order to arrive at the farm at noon, it is now 8:56 and Lotta is still not here. You don’t want to lose faith in manifestation magic, but worry is settling in. If it comes down to it, you will beg Jae to wait for you. With your texts unread, you decide to phone her.

Come on… Just let this one weekend go smoothly for you.

Nervously playing with the ends of your hair, you exhale in relief when she picks up. “Oh thank god, Lotta. Where are you? The coach is leaving in like two minutes. You’ve landed right? I’m not sure if I can convince the people to wait for you that long but worse comes to worse, I could ask for the address of the farm and you can commute there yourself. ” A silence replies after your slur of panicked words. “Hello? Dude, hurry.”

“Wait, so he’s not there yet?” She asks hesitantly.

“Who? The tour guide? No, he’s here. Where are you?” Just then you hear a thunder of running footsteps. Expectantly, you look out the bus window for your friend’s arrival, only to find…

“Wait, Lotta… What the fuck did you do?” Something drops in your stomach.

“Look Y/N, don’t be mad. This is for your own good, you need this.” You can practically hear her stealthy smile through the phone.

An icy chill strikes down your spine. You simply cannot believe what you are seeing out the window. She-

“Lotta…”

“Trust me, okay? You have been so fucking depressed the past month. You need to fix this problem, please. I hate seeing you like this, so if not for yourself, then do it for me.” There’s some guilt in her tone, you’ll give her that. But you are in a state of utter disbelief, borderline shell-shocked, the groves of your brain tangled in itself.

“Lotta, where are you? Are you even fucking coming?” Absolute mortification fills your chest to the brim at your gradual realisation of her ploy.

This can’t be happening.

“I promise, this is all for your own good. Please have a great weekend. I love you. Bye!” And with that she hangs up, leaving you wide-eyed, jaw-dropped, staring out the window...

At a panting, slightly sweat-beaded Taehyung handing his crumpled ticket to Jae.

“Made it just in time, mate.” You can just about make out Jae’s words from the shape of his mouth as he greets Taehyung and proceeds to recite his ‘I’m your tour guide for the trip’ speech. Taehyung nods interestedly, reciprocating with that sheepish smile of his as he scratches the back of his bedhead.

What did your best friend do? Did she just… set you up…? As you hear his loud unmissable steps stomping up onto the coach, you know you’re doomed. It’s over for you. You might as well fling yourself off a cliff.

Looking around the bus, you realise that it of course is completely full except for the seat beside you.

The power of manifestation is fucking bullshit. You’re stuck with this bad luck for the rest of your life.

And this weekend, you’re going to die.

You see him as a blur at the start of the aisleway, a mere figure in swatches of peach and brown and black. You hear pounding, a booming pulse in your ear.

It’s Taehyung. Taehyung. Your, but also not your, Taehyung.

Each step he takes approaching the only available seat he sees, you shrink lower in yours and keep your eyes pressed shut, but for what reason you’re not entirely sure. There’s no hiding now.

Your confrontation is inevitable, a few steps away. Then he finally sees you.

“Y-Y/N?”

Your heart soars to your throat at the sound of his voice as everything around you vanishes. This can’t be real.

Slowly, you turn up to face him. When your eyes meet, it’s like someone has driven a sharp object into your chest and twisted. His face is exactly how you remember, but also not quite. His big brown eyes are wide with surprise in a pitiful expression of bewilderment. His sleep rumpled hair, grown out to almost cover his eyes, yet still very much permed in the style you loved. His lips are jutting out, slightly parted in confusion at your unexpected presence that reminds you of how it felt to kiss him.

And the look of disgust that you had expected - absent.

You want to throw your arms around him. There is always a warmth emitting from Taehyung - the kind of warmth you feel when you enter your house on a snow ridden day and the gust of heat accompanied by the smell of home simply swallows you like a wave. But there is also something different, unfamiliar almost, about him. He is rougher round the edges, hints of facial hair dotted below his nose, dressed in slacks that he only usually wore strictly as pyjamas and never to go outside in.

As your eyes fall to the rest of him, you notice his fists tighten around the straps of his backpack, the balls of his knuckles whitening.

“Taehyung-” Saying his name feels like a release. A rush of satisfaction at the way the syllables roll off your tongue so naturally, then a flood of emotion that comes with all the memories his name invokes.

Then you’re at a loss for words again. You are so utterly unprepared for this situation because you didn’t think you would meet him again so soon, not until you’ve moved on. You’re not ready to face him.

What do you say? How are you meant to act around him?

He looks equally as lost, though you read him easily. There’s a flash of hurt in his eyes, the same that you’re sure you had. But it dissolves much quicker with him, almost into relief and content as if he’s glad to see you.

You know from the slight downward angle his brows are pointing that he has definitely missed you. Perhaps in a completely different way from you missing him, but he’s missed you.

“If I could just have everybody's attention!” Jae’s voice booms from the speaker, startling every passenger. “Young man over there, please be seated.” You quickly snatch your bag into your lap to let Taehyung sit next to you. The seats aren’t the most spacious; despite pressing your side against the window as much as you can, Taehyung’s shoulder comes brushing past yours as he settles into his own seat. Your heart flutters. “As all our participants are now present, our ride will begin immediately. The duration of the ride will be three hours, but a pitstop will be made at around halfway for a quick snack or toilet break. Please ensure all seatbelts are fastened during the entirety of our journey...” He drones on.

Three hours, you bristle. Everything is happening all at once and your mind can’t catch up. You’re going to be stuck on this coach for three hours next to Taehyung. No, worse. You’re stuck with Taehyung for this whole weekend in a strawberry farm.

Glancing over, his lips are pressed into a thin line, no doubt with the same chaotic thoughts racing through his mind. There isn’t much leg room, and though his thighs are purposely clamped together to avoid touching you, you know he can’t keep them clamped this tightly for three hours without cramping. Your legs are going to touch at some point.

God, why are you even losing your mind over something so juvenile? You’ve been reduced to a pre-teen girl so easily flustered by the thought of touching thighs amidst this turn of events.

Everything is gonna be okay, you tell yourself. This is gonna be fine. You don’t have to speak to each other. Just put in your earphones and fall asleep against the window.

But you have so many questions, for Lotta, for Taehyung. Did she plan this? How did she know that he’d be here? Hell, did he know you’d be here? No, there’s no way. The shock on his face was genuine.

He stares ahead, though visibly extremely puzzled. You suppress the urge to glance over at him every second to check that it’s really him.

“Thank you everyone for joining us so promptly. As you already know, I am Jae and I will be the guide to your trip to our beautiful strawberry farm over this Valentine’s weekend.” You pause. Right, this is a Valentine’s weekend trip, you had momentarily forgotten. And you’re stuck with Taehyung here. Two days, two nights. You’re not sure if you could withstand his presence for that long. Will you ignore each other for the entirety of this trip? You would be fine with that, and in all honesty, you think you might prefer it over speaking to him because that would only sprinkle salt on your wound.

A sharp pain in your palm reminds you that you’ve been gripping onto the programme leaflet that was handed to you. You smooth out the creases of the paper and flip it open to skim through what you have to tackle ahead of you.

Day 1: Go strawberry picking with your partner at our scenic farm in the lovely spring weather while the sun is out. A heavenly spa awaits you afterwards to wind down and indulge together. For an amorous evening, go stargazing under our cloudless skies...

Alarm bells start ringing immediately, from the cursive font of the strangely-worded phrases, to the shades of reds and pinks of the background. You skim further down the page, the kernel of anxiety growing exponentially at your throat.

Day 2: Make delicious strawberry jam and learn our signature recipe for a splendid strawberry tart. When dusk falls, enjoy a romantic candlelit dinner with your partner amidst the symphonies of our string quartet.

Fuck. Wait, what the fuck.

You flip back to the front page.

Strawberry Love: The Perfect Couple’s Romantic Getaway Valentine’s Weekend

Strawberry… Love…

“What the fucking shit?” You can’t help but cry out loud. Lotta- She-

The passengers of the bus all turn to shoot you at look of concern at your outburst, Taehyung included. His eyes dart around the features of your face to search for an answer. “What’s wrong?”

What’s wrong… What’s wrong…? What isn’t wrong at this point?

You feel defeated, absolutely fucking defeated that you don’t even have it in your to be shocked or angry. There is no way you can ignore him for the whole weekend when the programme of your trip - a couple’s Valentine’s trip - obligates you to spend time with him. The thought of making stupid little strawberry tarts with Taehyung… Your blood can’t even boil, you’re just fucking speechless.

Lotta, that conniving genius that is your best friend. How did she manage to pull this all off? Galentine’s trip your fucking ass. She tricked you into a romantic holiday with Taehyung, fucking hell...

But that means - she knows. The mortification hammers into your stomach. There’s no reason for her to do this other than for the purpose of getting you two to make up. Lotta fucking knew about you and Taehyung.

How? For how long? And why does she think that this will benefit you in any way? You and Taehyung are over and you were slowly (fine, excruciatingly slowly) moving on. Until now.

Letting out a huff of your frustration, you turn to look at Taehyung, properly look him in the eye for the first time. You can’t stop your chest from constricting. He regards you with that confused expression of his, eyes holding your glare but barely just, bashful from your sudden undivided attention channeled towards him. “I need to know what you’re doing here first.” It comes out harsher than you mean for it to, but it stems from your desperation to stay inert while your emotional sanity is precariously threatened right now.

“Me? I… Well, Lotta told me that she had a ticket for this weekend-trip to a strawberry farm type thing that she couldn’t go to anymore, so she asked if I wanted to go in her place because she knows that I like strawberries.” He furrows his brows. “Okay, that sounds really stupid out loud but I swear I didn’t know that you were gonna be here.” He throws his hands up, nothing but honesty flooding his chocolate eyes.

But of course, Taehyung doesn’t lie, you are sure from the times you’ve witnessed him not being able to muster up an excuse to get rid of an annoying relative on the phone. What’s more convincing of his truth is that he would not be the most difficult person to fall victim to Lotta’s scheme - drizzle in mentions of food and he is completely your pawn. You almost feel bad for this unsuspecting fool; he still has no idea.

But Lotta, that sly bitch… You are going to wrangle her when you get back.

“Taehyung… She lied to you.” You sigh, watching his features slowly contort in deeper confusion.

“Wait what? So we’re not going to a strawberry farm?” He sits up in alarm, looking around the bus as if that would grant him any insight whatsoever. You almost laugh at his naivety because as much as you want to uphold your cold exterior, something about him, his ever present innocent boyishness maybe, never fails to penetrate through to you.

“No, that’s not what I meant. She lied to me too; she told me that this would be a girl’s trip because we’re both single and bitter for Valentine’s. Get it? It was just a setup. For you and me.”  As the clockwork finally turns as he processes your words, a visibly distressed grimace forms. “Look at the programme, Taehyung, it freaking says: Strawberry Love: The Perfect Couple’s Romantic Getaway Valentine’s Weekend!”

As those words resonate from your mouth and the realisation finally dawns on him, dread settles itself in the pit of your stomach, cold, dry and coarse. Saying it aloud somehow finalises it - this is actually happening, you’re going to have to spend this weekend with the one person you’d least like to be stranded with right now.

“Lotta… But why would she…?” Deep red roses effloresce across the apples of his cheeks, and you feel yourself unconsciously mirroring his reaction as your mind flashes back to the planned activities of this tour. You’ll be made to pick berries and bake pastries together. And the romantic candlelit dinner… You can’t even finish that thought. Because even now, you find your eyes roaming every inch of his face, trying to memorise his details because it’s been so long.

This isn’t healthy for your heart. You were on a path of recovery, a path of forgetting him and forgiving yourself, and now you’ve been flung back to square one.

The bus jolts. His leg lightly knocks into yours and both your attentions momentarily divert to the touch, glaring at where the thick grey material of his joggers meets the thin cotton of your trousers. A long second passes before Taehyung lifts it away from you.

“I don’t know why she’d do this. All I told her was that we had a massive falling out.” You mutter. Except you do know, you know her very well. This was no mistake, but the result of careful planning. She knew exactly what she was doing.

“So maybe she’s trying to get us to reconcile?”

As soon as those words come out, you both seem to freeze in your spots, blinking in bewilderment at the slightest mention of the elephant in the room. It might be wishful thinking but you hear a sliver of hope in his question, and you think he hears how it came out too.

Reconcile.

Could the two of you reconcile after everything you put each other through in your last few days together? The thought tears you apart emotionally. Of course you want to reconcile, of course you want to be with him. But haven’t you proven enough that what you had didn’t work? Afterall, everything you had together came crumbling down at the smallest hitch in your path. What is there to reconcile but a dysfunctional relationship?

And how could either of you forget the torment you endured? The noises of Taehyung with another woman through the thin walls, your betrayal of his heart when you mistakenly slept with Jimin.

Reconciliation doesn’t seem possible in the foreseeable future.

“N-not reconcile in that way, I mean, like, for us to make up.” Taehyung stammers, hand waving about in his nervous state. “I mean- no, not make up, but like… make… peace. Yeah, make peace. Sorry.” He winces timorously at his spectacular fumble of words. It’s surprising how nervous and timid he is acting. He should be brutish to you, savage and hostile. But he isn’t.

“Yeah, I got what you mean… Don’t worry.” You can’t stop the corners of your lips from turning up, just a fraction. “But yeah, I think she wants us to make peace.” You conveniently do not bring up how you’re certain that she knows about your history and that this holiday she booked for you and Taehyung is most definitely for the purpose of reconciliation in that way.

“Right.” His bottom lip pinched between his teeth in a manner that makes it feel as though it’s a sight you shouldn’t be looking at, Taehyung’s attention shifts down to avoid your eye. Though, there’s a clear glimmer of expectation as he asks, “So… do you want to talk it out?”

The bus bounces, violently this time, as it drives over what must be a pebble. It rattles your thoughts so physically that you have to grip onto your trousers for support.

This is the deciding moment. Now is when you can choose how you go about this which will determine the rest of your weekend together.

Do you want to talk it out?

The painful memory of the last time you had tried to “talk it out” rakes its claws down your back. All the yelling, the hurtful accusations hurled both ways, the reluctance to accept blame… It haunts you so much so that your voices still ring in your mind, echoes embedding the misery you had both felt and inflicted deep in your bones.

The three stages of your fight painted clairvoyantly in your mind.

One: The Hurting Each Other.

You fuck guys without learning their names.

Two: The Guilt-Tripping.

I didn’t sleep with her. I couldn’t even kiss her for more than a minute on her bed because it felt so wrong it made me fucking sick. I stayed on her couch and thought about you all fucking night. Happy?

Three: The Falling Apart

I… I thought it was clear how I felt…

Always replaying in a loop.

“I’m not sure what there is to talk out.” You say, hating how callous you sound but knowing that it’s a necessary evil to convey your intent. That was in the past. Taehyung is your past. Talking about it would only drag you back into that perpetual cycle and there’s not much left in you to afford that. You look out the window at the open plains of grassland to avoid the hurt you know he can’t hide on his face. “I think it’s better if we keep our distance as much as possible and not make it difficult for ourselves.”

“Okay.” You hear him reply, but only a quiet mumble. From the faint reflection of the window, you see him tighten his jaw and fit his Airpods into his ears. The monster that is your guilt and bitterness sinking its fangs into your throat.

It’s better this way.

And so the bus continues to speed off to the countryside, driving you further and further from civilization and your chance of escape from this doomed weekend with the boy you’re trying to stop loving.

.

You wake up to someone gently shaking your shoulders. “Miss…” You jolt upright.

The first thing that elucidates in your sleep-fogged vision is your tour guide’s kind face smiling down at you. The second, when you come to your senses, is that you are leaning against Taehyung’s frame, his shoulders much harder than you remember them to be. The boy himself is fast asleep beside you, arm loosely linked with yours because you know he has a habit of holding things in his sleep. You hastily pull away.

“We’ve arrived, Miss.” Jae says politely, that humoured glow in his pupils eliciting a bashful blush from you.

“Oh right.” You look around to find the coach empty except for the three of you. “That’s embarrassing, I’m sorry.” The last thing you remember was the angry texts you spammed Lotta with before the songs in your playlist all blurred into one.

“No worries. Forgive me, I’m still learning names.” The heat of the sun is seeping through the glass of the windowpane, licking tenderly at your skin to rouse you awake. “I’ve tried to wake your partner, but it seems...”

“I’m Y/N. And don’t worry, he’s impossible to wake up.” You pause. There is a chance for you to rectify his misconception that you and Taehyung are a couple, except it would probably require some explaining or white-lying and now is not a great time if you’re holding up the whole group. “I’ll do it.”

Despite the conversation being had right over him, Taehyung shows no sign of his slumber being disturbed. His head is tipped back, mouth hanging open with a small dribble of drool beading at the corner of his mouth. Still the same deep-sleeping idiot.

“Oi.” You nudge his ribcage, scaring Jae with your coarseness. “Wake up, Taehyung.”

Nothing but heavy breathing.

“Dude, we’re here.” You grab his face between your harsh fingers and begin shaking vigorously.

Not even a stir. You remember how you used to like to joke that Taehyung could sleep through a burglary, and just to prove your point, you woke up in the middle of the night one time and screamed at the top of your lungs. He did not even move a toe.

“Uh-” There is a hint of worry in Jae’s face; perhaps he thinks that Taehyung has a health condition.

“It’s okay, I’ve got the trick.” This time, you pinch his nose with considerable force and clamp your palm over his mouth, ignoring the smoothness of his skin under your touch and the feeling of his lips skimming your palm. You glance up to find Jae’s eyes almost bulging out of their sockets, swaying uneasily at your method to wake him. “Don’t worry, it works every time.”

But true to your word, in a few seconds, Taehyung is sputtering for breath, eyes flying open in befuddlement, scrambling to sit up. You let go of his nose and smile at your tour guide only to find him petrified.

“What?” In disarray, Taehyung wipes at the corner of his mouth and pats his hair back down from its messy temperment. His heavy body no longer slumped against yours, you feel a weight lifted off your chest, though the fact that you had fallen asleep on each other plays at your mind, lingering to taunt you.

“We’ve arrived.” Jae winces.

You stare at the patterned seats of the coach, trying not to pay attention to Taehyung’s embarrassed apology and explanation on what a deep sleeper he is. You’re not going to think about Taehyung and sleeping. Mindlessly, you trail behind the banter men off the vehicle. You’re not going to think about how good it feels to sleep beside him.

The sun greeting you when you step foot onto ground instantly refreshes your mood, banishing away those thoughts that were slipping through the cracks. There’s something so healing about the air of the countryside, fresh and unpolluted and full of the pleasant crisp scent that one would associate with green and yellow. Staring back at you is a seemingly endless field of bushes dotted with red, the sweet berry smell already perfusing into your nose.

You ignore the crunch of gravel sounding from Taehyung’s steps not far from you and proceed to join the waiting crowd, their phones out to capture the stunning scenery.

As everyone gathers, it’s difficult to concentrate on Jae’s briefing of the weekend planned ahead, starting with an introduction to the farm which you frankly do not care to learn about. You try not to glance over at Taehyung at the corner of your eye, at how his hair is still sticking out awkwardly in the back, his eyes slightly swollen from sleep. You try not to notice his hesitancy, standing a distance from you despite everyone else standing in their couples.

It’s like a buzzing in the back of your mind, a constant tug at your consciousness, not allowing you to relax as much as you want to in this serene environment. You want to stop thinking about him but you can’t.

“In February, the weather is set to be nice and warm during the day and slightly chilly in the evenings, so I do hope that you have packed sufficiently as stated in the email. Now, if you look to your left...” Jae’s monologue drones on like white noise, because all you can focus on is not focusing on Taehyung.

Lotta has not replied to your hounding messages with anything of use, no answers to your plethora of questions. Just relax. Stop making such a big deal out of it, grow up and make up with him because you clearly aren’t over him. You wanted to tell her that things are not that simple, she doesn’t know how badly you both fucked up. Yet, you know her response would only be some pretentiously worded reply full of the condescending wisdom it always contains when she’s telling you off.

You’ll admit it, as stubborn as you are, Lotta’s advice is right 9 times out of 10. She was right when she said you shouldn’t have gone with Taehyung to Mykonos within two weeks of knowing him because he could have been a killer or psychopath. She was right when she pointed out that you act like Taehyung annoys the living shit out of you but you secretly care deeply for him.

But she’s definitely not right this time, you are adamant about it. It would be a miracle if you and Taehyung could even be friends within the next six months, let alone… And if anything were to happen, setting you two up on a romantic holiday together is certainly the wrong way to go about it. It feels so inorganic, like you’re forced to spend time with each other.

Out of habit, you steal a glance at him. It’s not a surprise to find him not paying an ounce of attention to Jae either. Taehyung is staring off into the strawberry field, face angled away from you such that the sunlight is hitting his skin in all the right places to glaze a golden aura over him.

It’s strange to see such a permanent sadness in his eyes, a melancholic nostalgia. You hate yourself - you did this to him, you broke him. Does he hate you? Resent you? You think you’d rather he did.

Soon, the group of you are whisked away down a pebbly path to a rustic looking hotel beside the farm where you will all stay in. It’s not the old run-down type of rustic, but more the luxurious kind that very evidently serves an aesthetic purpose. And that’s when you begin to notice, this “farm” is not really a farm at all, but more a boujee farm-themed resort. This trip could certainly not have been cheap. As much as you are here against your will, you can’t help but feel immense gratitude to Lotta for her willingness to spend such money on you.

You are stopped at a grand lobby, the style of which resembling a small piazza of Southern Italy - warm neutral-toned Roman concrete walls with a green flourish of vines and bushes. It’s absolutely stunning, a surreal setting that you only see in movies. It’s impossible not to feel the air of romance circulating this architecture. You glance over to find him, stood an awkwardly respectful distance away from you, gaping around at the interior of the building in awe. He is a sucker for art, especially architecture. You almost wish you were friends again only to hear him gush about the beauty of this place.

When Jae begins to hand out room keys, it suddenly occurs to you, perhaps the worst aspect of your predicament this weekend - you are sharing a room with Taehyung.

You are sharing a…

Heart sinking, you look over again to see if the same thought has dawned on him. It has. His eyes are fixed on Jae in an eerily blank way, his jaw tense, a single bead of sweat trickling down the side of his forehead which you will excuse as the heat.

When Jae approaches you, Taehyung automatically joins your side in a dazed worry. Eye contact made was brief, not enough for you two to communicate whether or not you tell Jae that this was all a mistake and you would much rather be apart.

“Here you go, Y/N.” Your guide flashes you that charming grin of his as he waves your keycards before you. Instinctively, you receive it in your palm. “You guys have got the deluxe suite - wonderful choice.”

“We-” You begin, but he doesn’t seem to take notice. You’re starting to notice that he perhaps likes the sound of his own voice a bit too much.

“As I said, strawberry-picking will start at half past so that gives you a bit of time to drop off your luggage and freshen up after the long ride.” He continues. This will probably be the only chance you get to tell him that you and Taehyung aren’t a couple before it becomes too late, and you’re going to miss this opportunity because of another one of his monologues. The desperate itch in your chest grows an uncomfortable size. “Please meet here at the reception on time. And as for your luggage - oh, I see you two are lightly-packed. Low maintenance, my favourite type of people. In that case, your room is on the ground floor, if you follow that lovely couple down that corridor over there.”

And just like that, he smiles, retracts his extended arm pointing towards the direction of your room and turns to guide another couple.

“Wai-” You call after him weakly, but he has once again launched into the same speech he’d recited to you to a new audience.

And there goes your chance of rectifying this weekend.

You stand there for a good minute, mind trying to piece together how, just how, you will manage to survive this weekend. Taehyung is quiet beside you, equally as baffled at what to do.

“Should we head to our room then…” He mutters after too long a moment of unmoving stature. “I kinda want to change into some lighter clothes and we don’t have that long.”

You nod without looking at him. Because you can’t stand looking at his face right now, the face that you’ll be stuck with for these two days, the face that you love.

Silence between you now grows more familiar as you walk wordlessly to your room, the round corner of the plastic keycard digging hard into your palm. It’s painfully awkward. Your echoing steps provide the only stable rhythm against the storm between you.

Beep. The door opens at your will with a swipe of the card.

You weren’t prepared for what exactly the deluxe room entails. Its size could easily be a tiny studio apartment: a small seating area consisting of a pearly white sofa and a glass coffee table so delicately built that you would not trust yourself near; a mini-kitchen on the left side of the room accompanied by a generously stocked beverage bar; a king-sized bed in the far right wine-red in colour and excessively buried in frivolous cushions. But the belle of the ball is really the glass panelled-wall at the back of the room that you face as you enter, spanning from ceiling to floor, opening up to the patio hand-plucked out of your dreams. Rose bushes, circular beige woven garden daybed, and not to mention the hot tub.

You are completely in awe. Your mind instantly flashes to Mykonos. This luxury is the furthest from a farm experience whatsoever. It really explains how every couple on this trip looks like the child of a wealthy politician with their finely manicured hands and sickly cologne.

“Woah.” An octave deeper than usual, Taehyung expresses his wonder as he surveys the extravagance that is your room. “This… How much must this have cost?”

“I have no idea.” You whisper, still in your state of near speechlessness while your feet take you to the glass wall.

This is a place of romantic films, a place for honeymoons. Everything is in a rose-gold tint, glistening almost mockingly under the soft February sun. Why are you here? You almost hear the slabs of sandstone ask.

Behind you, you hear him huff out the marvel that he is submerged in. His backpack slides off his shoulder, swung carelessly towards the loveseat. And plop he goes, starfished onto the bed.

Then the fear returns, reclaims its usual residence in your throat. As you pry your eyes away from the opulence of the veranda to look at Taehyung, his head lifts up at the same moment. The short-lived mist that clouded over your reality finally disperses.

You blink again at his sprawled out limbs. He blinks back.

It is as if a switch has flipped, the speed at which he jumps back onto his two feet, fright jarring his mouth agape. “I’llsleeponthesofa.” The slur of his words are unintelligible to your ears, but his display of alarm is almost comical, threatening a smile from the corners of your lips at the hysteria of your situation despite the same alarm you are experiencing.

“What?”

“I’ll sleep on the sofa.” His voice is firmer the second time he says it, tilting his chin up as if to reassure you of his confidence.

“It’s okay, I’ll sleep on the sofa.” You sigh because you know how much Taehyung is bursting to sleep in a king-sized bed. It was his first time in Mykonos, and you had not heard the end of how it was the best sleep he’s had in his lifetime. So imagine him now.

He bristles, a genuine look of offence fleets. “Of course not, I can’t allow that.”

“Why not?” Your tone with him is foreign, lacking the playfulness it once had - just an aloof callousness.

“‘Coz! I’m not gonna let you take the couch while I sleep on this massive bed.” He gestures at the couch for emphasis, letting his arm dangle afterwards. He is less different with you than you are with him, you note.

“You just answered my question with the very statement I was questioning you on.” You cross your arms and lean against the glass, allowing the warmth to bask through your shirt.

Taehyung frowns and mirrors your action, the muscle of his bicep flexing more than usual from the agitation in his motion. “‘Coz you’re a light sleeper. Just stop being stubborn and take the bed.”

You’re not quite sure why, of all things, ‘you’re a light sleeper’ is what moves you. The consideration he still holds for you inhibits any protest you wish to sound.

He cares about you, he clearly still does. Just like how you would willingly give up the bed for him.

God, you don’t want to fucking be here. You wish it didn’t have to be so painful, every single little interaction between you just reminding you again and again of how much you loved and hurt each other.

Taehyung takes your silence as compliance and begins to unpack, ruffling through his bag for a change of cooler clothes with his shoulders tense in discomfort. You know what the mature person in you should say: we can just share the bed. But you can’t think of a single reason why that would be a good idea.

With this Valentine’s trip completely planned for you two, it feels like the universe presenting you with an undeniable temptation. Everything around you is telling you to just get back with him, to give in to your inhibitions and fall back into him. You’ve got the champagne in the cooler, hot tub in the patio, rose petalled bed all laid out in front of you at your disposal. An inner voice chanting make up, make up, make up. Because what’s stopping you?

What’s stopping you is that look on his face when he saw Jimin fixing the back of his shoe beside you as you were walking him out. What’s stopping you is the sound of another girl moaning his name right down the hall from you.

So maybe some could see it as strength for resisting the yearning, for being able to put up a front and speak to him so indifferently. But you see it as weakness, because you still cannot move on.

.

Despite the sun blazing down your back, the cool gust of spring weather eases what otherwise would have been scorching heat. Never would you anticipate that you would be spending this weekend sifting through strawberry bushes to find large red ripe summer fruit, yet here you are. You don’t even think it’s strawberry season.

You’ve never been a country girl, but the dirt feels strangely comforting under your nails. Well, comforting is perhaps not the best word to describe your state of mind right now. As much tranquility as this farm is bringing you, with Taehyung always no more than two metres away from you, you don’t think you could ever relax.

In black sports shorts, plucking his own berries on the other side of the same very row of bushes, sweat trickling along the veins of his neck… Of course your attention is scattered.

Not to mention, you keep catching his shifting eyes. You thought you ought to say something, but what exactly? The awkwardness is prominent as it is.

A heavy exhale. You find a particularly large berry, leaves curling upwards to indicate its ripeness as the strawberry expert (yes, strawberry expert) had taught you. Pluck. And off it goes into your basket.

This is definitely therapeutic. You imagine every strawberry to be your feelings for Taehyung. This one over here shall symbolise his musky scent that you fall asleep to. Pluck. This one, his stupidly attractive perm, so long that even you would tell him to trim it because it’s covering his eyes. Pluck. His eyes… Especially when he’s confused as he makes that wide-eyed puppy dog face, which is very often. Pluck.

You glance up, you can’t help it.

And he’s already looking at you. Caught red-handed, literally red-handed because his hands are somehow stained with strawberry juice. Instantly he whips his head back down at his basket that is rested by his crouching knees, though there is not much in there for him to look at.

“Stop making this weirder than it already is.” He almost jumps when you speak, clearly not expecting any sort of interaction from your end.

Slowly, he glances back up at you, dark wavy fringe swaying from the slow tilt of his head. “I- Sorry, I wasn’t- Um, I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

There’s something quite breathtaking about Taehyung under the sun, the way the rays reflect off his honey-tan skin to give an effulgent finish like a marble statue of some Ancient Roman God worshipped by priests and maidens. The coat of sweat gathered at his cupid’s bow could possibly be your undoing.

You love him, despite all the strawberries symbolic of his traits that you were picking.

And you hate yourself for that. You don’t want to feel like this anymore. You’re so sick of this heavily-hearted feeling of being dragged down by your emotions all the fucking time. You want to be able to look at him and feel nothing, look at him and not be intruded by the echoes of that night.

It makes you sick, the thought of him inside someone else. Physically sick to the core.

“Well, you are. So stop looking at me.” You state coldly. You just want to forget everything and let go of him, but his presence is not letting you do so. If being a bitch is what it takes, you’ll gladly be a bitch

“No, you have dirt on your face.”

Embarrassment slams into you like a wave, wielding you to shut your eyes and take a deep breath of humiliation. It’s instant karma for being a bitch. “Oh.” You say, carelessly wiping all over your cheeks with the back of your wrist, more with the intention of hiding the rush of blood to your face than to actually clean. You keep your eyes trained on a tiny pale berry in the bush, hoping that he’ll look away from you.

But he doesn’t. “You’re smearing it.” You look up to find his lips drawn in a tight line in attempt to hide his amusement. Everything is just working out wonderfully for you, isn’t it? Yet before your mind can process it, he rises from his crouch and leans over the short bushes.

When his thumb meets your cheek, it almost sears you. As his eyes are focused on the dirt on your face he’s brushing away, yours are locked on his gaze - gentle, warm, familiar. The collar of his shirt droops low, exposing his chiseled collar bones, protruding so enticingly as if for the sole purpose to catch your attention and remind you that it was one of your favourite places to bury your nose in.

Taehyung’s touch is heartbreakingly gentle; the rest of his fingers come under the side of your jaw for support, though only fleetingly. The whole exchange is brief, the dirt brushed away as swiftly as your relationship had crumpled.

You feel it in your nose first, that overwhelming wave of sadness, and then behind your eyes. You want to cry. You want to cry as he pulls away, as he realises that he has unconsciously acted out of familiarity, as a shyness reaches his eyes when he meets your glare.

It was only a mindless sweep of his thumb on your face, yet its impact is explosive under your skin, reminiscent of a time when such a touch had different implications, elicited a different response.

You quickly blink it away - the tears, but not the heartache. That wretched feeling in your throat does not permit you to thank him, so you just stare at each other, the world around you a mere blur of blues and greens. You watch his chest rise as he sucks in for air, wondering if the same memories are now visiting, no, haunting, him.

You can’t do this because you’re not strong enough. For you whole act of indifference in front of him, your constant resisting against the urge to fall back into him, you’re still not strong enough.

But to your surprise, or perhaps even gratitude, he’s the one who picks up his basket and paces away without another word. You watch the back of his calves, the slosh of his overgrown hair, as he walks away.

.

You stare out the glass door at the patio. It’s dark, you can scarcely see a thing with the lights outside switched off. It acts as a perfect canvas for your imagination, for scenes of your past together to materialise before you.

It’s not been a full day yet, and you already feel so drained. This is impossible. You want to call Lotta to pick you up, but upon deeper consideration, you don’t think you have the heart to. This must have cost her a considerable amount of money to book. She had the full intention that this will bring you and Taehyung back together, yet it is doing everything but. You don’t want to imagine her disappointment when you return in streams of tears.

After the session of strawberry-picking, your baskets were handed over for your fruits to be washed and prepared for your baking class tomorrow. Following that is your free time, when you are left to your own devices, at liberty to roam around the farm, dine at their organic restaurant by the hotel. Taehyung had taken Jae’s recommendation of visiting the spa; you opted to stroll (sulk) about, as far away from him as possible.

It’s unhealthy, this continuous bombardment of thoughts of him. Your month’s worth of progress has reduced to ashes.

Maybe you don’t even actually have feelings for him anymore. It could purely be a deception of the closeness you’ve developed for each other that you mistaken for love. You had spent almost every single day of the past two and a half years together, under the same roof, sharing a bed towards the last few months. It’s the safety and intimacy that your brain associates him with that forbids you from moving on.

Maybe you’re actually over him romantically. But the wanting, the missing him as your best friend still lingers.

The door to your room opens abruptly. Hair damp, Taehyung strolls inside in a white bathrobe and slippers, his clothes bunched up under his arm. Tiny beads of moisture dot the sparse view of his chest you have.

“Oh, you’re here.” He says, his step faltering at your clearly unanticipated presence. Or perhaps the sight of you, staring out into the dark, completely alone in this room is just awfully strange. “I thought you’d be eating at this time.” Eyes dropping to the ground as the door shuts behind him, his movements are clearly timid and weary, an rare expression on Taehyung.

“Not that hungry.” You mutter. “How was…” You ask out of habit, but immediately catch yourself. Quick eye contact before you both look away like docile animals. It’s too late for you to take back the question now anyway. “How was the spa?” And to make it appear that you don’t really care and was just asking out of courtesy, you turn back around to face out to the patio.

Completely unnecessary and petty move, whatever.

Except you see his reflection on the glass from the illuminated room all too well. Visibly easing that you’ve looked away, he plops his clothes down at the end of the bed and trails into the bathroom to fetch a towel for his hair. “Was really nice, they give good massages. You should give it a go at some point.”

“Okay.” He gives his head a good shake before drying with the towel. It feels creepy that he doesn’t know you are watching his reflection, so your eyes drop to your feet. You wonder if his masseuse was female. Not that it matters at all.

“What time are we meant to meet them for stargazing again?” He is speaking a lot - well, relatively. It saddens you that his usual tone of endearment when he would speak to you is now missing. It’s like speaking to a stranger, but worse, a stranger who takes a stab at your heart after every word.

“At 9, so that’s in…” You raise your wrist to find your watch absent from where it usually sits on your wrist. Right, you had removed it before strawberry-picking so it doesn’t get dirty and left it on the coffee table. Just as you turn around to retrieve it, you are met with Taehyung slipping his robe off. Your eyes widen.

The fluffy material glides down his shoulders like he’s made of gold, revealing the sculpture of his upper body that you scarcely recognise because he never used to be this toned. You thank any higher power there is that he is wearing his boxers, but they do nothing to conceal the faintest V at his hips and the bulk of his thighs. He isn’t bursting with muscle, but body definitely more well-defined than you remember.

“Have you been working out?” It just slips out. You wish, as the heat floods to dizzy your mind, that you had the capability of holding your tongue for once in your life.

Taehyung hesitates, Adam’s apple bobbing at his jugular. That shy awkwardness returns when your eyes meet. “Yeah. I mean a little, here and there…” Self-consciously, he brings his arm across his chest to rub at his bicep, but the gesture only flexes the muscle he has gained.

Your knees feel slightly weak. It’s the lack of dinner, you tell yourself. It’s not just your knees that feel weak though, your heart is thumping haphazardly into arrhythmia.

“But you hate exercise.” The stability in your voice surprises you.

“Yeah I did, but Seojoon said it’d help me take my mind off… things.” Lip between his teeth, Taehyung searches around for a top. Sheepishness in the form of a soft pink tint on his round cheeks turns you soft.

‘Things’, meaning you.

When you realise you’ve been staring, you immediately look down, fingers fiddling with each other like you’re some virgin freshly exposed to the spectacle of the male body. You’re anything but yourself, and so is he. Taehyung exercising? You almost scoff.

“You don’t have to… You’ve seen me naked, you know.” Taehyung mumbles, finally locating the sweatshirt he intends to wear. When you hear him pull it over himself, you sag in relief, the immense weight that his starkness strangely bestowed on you finally alleviated.

“Yeah, but it’s different now.” Now that we’re not together anymore. Not that we were ever together.

You know he feels it too, the sting of those words. The hurt in his eyes fill you with a sort of bitter self-resentment that you cannot wrap your head around. Stop looking at me like that. Stop making me feel like a bitch. Just stop hurting me.

“Yeah, it is.” But for some reason, it stings even more when he says it. His agreement should be a triumph, yet it feels more like the acknowledgement of the broken bridges between you.

When it comes from your mouth, it’s you convincing yourself more than anything. When it comes from his, it sounds like the truth.

.

Of the many things that are slowly killing Taehyung this weekend, the painfully awkward silence is among the most unbearable. It’s the loud kind of silence that he hates where there is clearly so much to say to each other yet none of it is coming out. There’s a vast ocean between you, roaring waves engulfing any sort of message he wishes to communicate.

This has to be one of the strangest experiences of his life - being set up by your friend on a couple’s trip to a resort disguised as a strawberry farm for Valentine’s day with you - and he has experienced a lot of weird shit in his life.

To be honest, he hasn’t been doing so great the past few weeks.

All the anger and bitterness had taken two days to melt away into miserable wretchedness. Two days, that’s all it took for him to not be angry with you anymore because there was one person he was angrier at - himself.

Because Taehyung was quick to realise that losing you is miles, miles, worse than what you had done to him. It was a sudden sort of realisation, the kind that hits you in the middle of doing something. What had he done?

The way he yelled at you, the things he said. His chest always sinks at the rememberance.

You didn’t know it was Jimin, you truly didn’t. But he exploded on you nonetheless, impermeable to your explanation. That wasn’t him. That raging bellowing man wasn’t him. If only he had just calmed down and talked it through with you, maybe he wouldn’t have been sleeping alone in your bed that your scent still clung on to.

And when he thinks about how you had heard him with that girl from the club, the bar, wherever his inebriated state took him that he doesn’t even remember…

Taehyung regrets everything.

How you got to this point was so extremely stupid. He should have just confessed to you, simple and easy, no complications needed. You are a commitment-phobe, he always knew he’d have to be the one to say it first. So why didn’t he? What the fuck was holding him back?

All he had to say was to not go on that date with Junho. That’s all you wanted. Why why why didn’t he just say how he felt?

Taehyung never knew himself to be a crier before this. He had shed a tear or two when he found out about Ryujin’s cheating and his friends’ betrayal; that was a stab in the back that left him gutted from the inside. Yet still, he got by, he survived because he found you. And he had naively thought, I managed to bear through this so nothing can really be worse than this now can it?

It can, and it did.

Once it starts, it won’t stop. The tears. A great tempest swallowing him whole and dragging him under until all he could hear was his own pounding heart. It is always before bed, when he would have the time to himself to truly think and reflect. But sometimes it comes during the day as well. He will be doing something as mundane as washing his hair in the shower, and he would suddenly break down because you had left him your shampoo that you would always get annoyed at him for using.

The house just feels empty. The absence of your voice, your warmth, your lips pressed on his neck every morning before his eyes even fully opened. Gone.

Yet, every corner is etched with the memories you share, your ghost lingering by the sofa that you adore whenever he’s watching TV, or curled up beside him every night in bed. It’s impossible to forget you.

Even as Seojoon moved in to fill your vacated room and help with the rent, the place was cold. It will never be the same because nothing could ever replace you. Everything he had and cherished - swept away just like that by none other than his own mistakes.

Yes, you had hurt him a lot. At the time, that pain felt insurmountable, like the worst thing you could ever do to him. But ultimately, upon the endless nights of thinking, he has realised that what hurt him the most was not you, but losing you. Not Jimin, not Junho, but how what could have been between you two fell apart so quickly by the poor choices you both made.

“Now if you look up to your left, you might be able to see one of our February constellations, the Pictor.” Jae announces, voice full of an enthusiasm that Taehyung could only envy as he guides the tour group towards the centre of a large plain field behind the hotel where you will all be stargazing. It is a lovely, breezy, cloudless night. You are several paces ahead of Taehyung, keenly reading the constellation manual leaflet lit up by your phone; he knows just how much of an astronomy geek you are. “It consists of four stars, as shown on your Star Guide, that are actually very dim and usually not easily spotted. The name Pictor means the Painter’s easel.”

Taehyung stops. Despite the darkness, he sees your shoulders tense too.

The easel you had gifted him on his birthday sits in his closet, stowed away from being a constant reminder of how much you loved him and how much he should have held on. It just sits there, collecting dust, untouched since the day you left.

The halt in Jae’s walking indicates your arrival to the intended location. “Here we are. Let’s settle down, love birds. I’ll set up this gorgeous telescope for anyone who wants to explore the sky in greater focus which I highly recommend.”

Spreading across the field, the group unrolls the picnic blankets you’ve all been given, dropping down to rest atop the covered grass.

No time is wasted from everyone else to snuggle up to their boyfriends, girlfriends, husbands, wives. The atmosphere is sickly, even for Taehyung. The couples around him have done little to hide their affection for each other since the beginning of the trip. It is a romantic vacation after all, but is it really so necessary to display your love so publicly?

You stand static and poker-faced on the other side of the mat, clear signs of reluctance to participate plastered all over you.

Taehyung has never stargazed before, let alone in this context. The stiffness in your movement as you sink down onto your knees and lie down in discomfort makes him wince. He realises now that neither of you have a choice but to put away any ill feelings and lay beside each other.

As he gets down next to you, his head nearly tumbles out his chest at the sudden proximity that he has grown so unused to. In the dark, your scent washes up to him like a timid tide lapping at the shore, hair swaying off your shoulders as you get onto your back. The size of the mat does not permit him elsewhere other than immediately beside you, no more than five inches from touching shoulders. Five inches from touching.

Truthbetold, Taehyung feels himself going insane. It started from the moment he saw you on the bus, your wide eyes, parted lips, so pretty despite the look of terror you wore. He didn’t think he would have the chance to see you any time soon. He hadn’t truly comprehended the magnitude at which he missed you until he saw you again.

And he has been spiralling since. Every gesture making his senses scream in agony, the desire to just talk to you mangling at him. He misses you like crazy. Not necessarily in that way, but just your presence, your funny comments, your feign annoyance when he annoys you. He misses the companionship.

You are both on your back now, the blanket feeling either slightly damp or too cold for comfort. The star-speckled sky hanging above you both is endless, a panoramic painting from east to west. You stare at the sky like it’s your lover, so Taehyung does the same. Astronomy doesn’t interest him as much as the meaning and purpose behind the act of stargazing. The people he’s with and the memories he makes.

Wordless, you stare at the sky, ignorant to his presence. The soft hum of everyone else’s whispers accentuates that frustrating silence between you. Taehyung is so fucking tired of the silence because he’s bursting with things to say to you, to ask you.

“Are we just not going to speak?”

His question startles you for you almost, almost, turn to look at him. The slight angling of your head before you catch yourself does not go unmissed by him.

“What do you want to speak about?” Taehyung hates the coldness in your voice. The unfeeling sounds so real. Why are you being this way? Do you seriously want nothing to do with him? That possibility scares him above all else.

Someone giggles a few yards from you two. On this large grassland, the couples are dispersed in their own little bubble of sweet affection, but not enough for his ears to not pick up these little sounds that send courses of envy through his vessel.

“What do you think?” The four weeks you spent apart were four weeks of lamenting over all the things he should have said, and all that he shouldn’t. And Taehyung’s is done with regretting unspoken words. He just wants to get everything out in the open, out of his system, so he can move on.

“I mean-”

“Look, Y/N. This is stupid, the whole ignoring each other thing. Don’t you just want to say your piece and get that weight off your chest?” In the distance, crickets chirp faintly. The discomfort shuddering in the five-inch area between your shoulders is screaming volumes. Taehyung doesn’t turn away from the sky for the fear of the expression he would see you wear.

He expects a note of irritation in your voice, for you to start arguing with him which he truthfully doesn’t mind because that is at least progress. But instead he gets a quiet defeat. “I don’t want to reopen wounds that are already ripping open, Taehyung.”

It wrenches his soul, truly. He doesn’t recognise you when you speak anymore, both with the things you say, and the way you say it. “Talking will help it heal.” Because that’s both your final goals here - to heal, to be cured of the ailment that is heartbreak.

“How exactly is it going to change anything?”

“I don’t know. We’ve had time to calm down and think and I think we should have some closure so we end on a good note.”

It’s funny now, how Taehyung is the one pleading to speak to you when he should be the one who’s angry at you because you were the one to commit the last and biggest fault. He doesn’t see it like that though, that’s all in the past. To be friends with you again, that’s all he wishes for, he doesn’t care about anything else at this point.

“So this is about amicability to you? You want to end on good terms.” Neither of you still dare to look at the other, eyes locked on the stars but somewhere distant.

“Well, yeah. Do you not?” He asks. He hadn’t expected you to be this uneasy, he thought you would have liked the idea of peace amongst you. “Everything towards the end happened so quickly, wouldn’t you like some closure?

“I would rather take my time and heal in my own way. To be honest, I don’t have anything to say to you about that topic except that I’m sorry, but I’m sure you’re sick of hearing that. It’s pointless.”

You’re coping with this differently, Taehyung understands. But it doesn’t take much effort to be pleasant towards each other, to smile and greet each other like normal people instead of scrambling away from every eye contact. How do you suppose you’d be able to move on like that?

“So not even friends right now?” He tries one last time. A soft breeze washes over you, wafting your scent towards him.

“No, I don’t want to be friends right now.”

Your bluntness stings. Taehyung finally gives in and turns to face you. Your striking profile greets him, your eyes still stubbornly glued to the sky. Your unwillingness to budge or compromise even a little bit is frustrating.

“We were best friends for the past two and a half years. More than best friends, we were literally two peas in a pod; we lived together, ate together, studied together, slept together. And now we don’t even talk. You’re okay with losing that? You’re telling me that I’m the only one who misses it more than anything else?” His angry whisper sounds ridiculous as he tries to keep his volume down, conscious of the setting he’s in.

But then he sees you blink, hard. Then blink again. Your pursed lip trembles. Another two consecutive blinks. When you look at him, your eyes are so glassy that they reflect the entirety of the galaxy above. “How am I supposed to be your friend right now when I can’t even look at you without feeling this great pang of sadness every time?” Taehyung immediately wishes he hadn’t pushed you.

“I… just would rather have you in my life as a friend than not have you at all.” His voice softens to a tone more apologetic. He is the reason for the tears you’re holding back right now and he despises it.

“I would rather not have you in my life at all while I slowly get over you than have you as just a friend because my heart can’t take this constant torture. I just want to be over you but I can’t do that if I have to pretend to be okay around you. And I just don’t get it Taehyung. How are you so willing to be friends again? After what I did, how could you look at me and not hate me?”

Taehyung frowns at you because he doesn’t see how you can’t understand it’s not about that anymore. It’s not about the blame, the who did what to who. He doesn’t care anymore but the fact that you do is alarming. You still can’t let it go.

“Okay, so is this about you not forgiving yourself?” He prods, and watches the brief flash of confusion on your face.

“I-” You’re quick to dispute but stop. Because it’s the truth.

A long silence ensures. You stare at the collar of his sweatshirt, zoned out. Taehyung knows you’re in deep contemplation, you know his points have strong grounds. There is no reason for hostility or callousness between you because it would only hurt each other more.

“Look,” He takes a deep breath. “I just think that it’s unhealthy for you to act like this. You’re burying and burying what you’re feeling without actually facing it. Trying to be friends is a good first step in accepting that we’re not together anymore; being cold to each other isn’t. Think about it.”

Another long pause. He watches you blink, watches your chest rise and fall at every breath.

“I understand your point, I know my coping mechanism isn’t healthy but it’s all that I know right now. We’re different, we’re hurting differently and healing differently. I’m sorry for acting out on you when it’s myself who I want to punish. But I seriously don’t have the strength to be your friend right now, I wish I did but I really don’t. Just give me time.” The fact that you’re not arguing with him says a lot; you have both matured from this experience. It’s sad that this is what it took for you to do so.

“Okay. I respect that.” Taehyung says. “I’m sorry for pushing this onto you, it’s selfish of me, sorry. I just… I don’t know, I guess I’m pathetic. You were my best friend and I want to salvage it as much as I can. I just miss you, that’s all.”

You don’t say anything, but Taehyung is okay with that. Because he knows you miss him too, you miss the friendship, the having each other to lean on.

The difference between you and him is that you can’t compartmentalise your lingering feelings for him and put that aside right now, whereas he can. You need to rid those feelings before you can be his friend, and he’s okay with that.

He stares at Pictor, it’s four weak stars that dim beside much brighter constellations yet somehow call to him. And he almost smiles.

.

You stare at your own reflection in the mirror.

That conversation with Taehyung resonates with you more than you’d care to let on. You let every single word he said sink in, your inner turmoil contemplating the points he made. Because he definitely has a point.

What resonates with you most is the word closure.

He’s right, everything between you ended so quickly that there was no time to process and accept it until it was already over. Maybe that’s why you’re finding it so hard to let go. If you were to be friends again, you could at least normalise his presence and gradually move past this.

Twisting the faucet on, you splash some water on your face to clear this dilemma from your head. And after wiping yourself dry, you exit the bathroom into your room with a great sigh.

Taehyung is wearing the grey hoodie - that’s the first thing you notice. As in the grey hoodie you would always claim as your own because of how soft its material is. The grey hoodie that you regret giving back to him. The grey hoodie that he would always wear when you guys gamed at midnight and it would always end with you on his lap, his locks tangled in your fingers while his mouth explored yours.

You take it back, fuck being friends, you’re back to square one.

He glances up in the dark, eyes surveying your silhouette from head to toe as he places a pillow on one end of the couch. Ever since that conversation, there’s the most subtle difference in his permanent expression - his lips look inclined to smile, his eyes hold an understanding for you that makes you feel vulnerable.

And, god, it makes you want to try. He deserves it, to have his best friend back in his life even if that best friend is you, the person he trusted the most in the world only to turn around and impale him in the chest with those stupid decisions of yours.

The omnipresence of your awkwardness hasn’t faltered though. “Taehyung, I said I would take the couch.” You protest, though you’re starting to see that it’s futile. You may be the more stubborn one between the pair, but there are certain things that Taehyung would never back down from.

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen, Y/N.” The corner of his lip turns up properly now, like he’s silently snickering at a joke he thought of. “That’s just - not gonna happen.”

“What’s so funny?” Switching the bathroom lights off behind you, you ask. You hadn’t packed well for this trip, you are only in a flimsy camisole and a pair of sweats, the cold air coaxes goosebumps on your skin. His gaze follows you as you draw the curtains shut over the glass wall, leaving only a strip of moonlight streaming in.

“Nothing.” Taehyung places both hands on the top of his head, an action that causes his hoodie to slightly ride up his torso. You fix your eyes on the floor as you approach him and the sofa. “It’s just funny how you think I’d ever let you sleep on the couch while I sleep on the bed.”

There is a dead end down this path you’re going, neither of you would let the other win. So you simply ignore him and situate yourself on the couch, stretching your legs to span it wholly. “Good night.” Fixing the pillow he had placed, you shut your eyes.

“What, no.” You can hear the smile wipe off his face, almost making you chuckle out loud. “Y/N, get up.” Hastily he hovers over you. But when you show no sign of acknowledgement, he shuffles away. A moment later, you feel a great gust of air, then the softest silkiest duvet landing over you.

Your eyes fly open. And there Taehyung stands with his arms crossed smugly. “If you take the couch, you also take the covers.”

“No! You’ll be cold.”

“You’ll be cold. You’re not wearing enough.”

You give up. “Oh, for god’s sake, Taehyung. Fine. Let’s both sleep on the bed, okay?” His entire expression dilates. He doesn’t even blink as you get off the couch and cross your arms back at him. “Problem solved.”

Taking his wrist in one hand, dragging the plush duvet in the other, you walk to the bed and sit him down. No noise of protest emits from him, so you go back to retrieve the pillow from the couch in a huff.

“Are you sure?” His voice is suddenly timid, unsure. And he’s right to be so, because you’re quaking on the inside as well at the prospect of sleeping beside him.

It’s not going to be good for your heart, you know that definitely. But like he said, you need to face this. If you touch a paper cut enough times, it stops hurting. “It’s just sleeping, it’s no big deal.” You lie. “You want to be friends right? Well let’s start with this. Let’s stop being stupid and childish.” You can’t look him in the eye as you rearrange the bedding back to its original state before Taehyung messed it up.

His reply merely a quiet yeah… before you both hesitantly crawl under the covers and tuck in. Heat flushes to your face as you do so because the action feels so familiar, yet everything about it is different.

Absolute silence. Backs facing each other. An arm's length or two between you but it feels like more. You don’t even shut your eyes because why pretend that you’ll fall asleep?

Your own palpitation is so vigorous that it’s audible. The thoughts whizzing around in your head are unstoppable, a persistent prodding at your skull. His scent is strong, that sweet honey musk that used to seduce you to sleep now the very thing that’s keeping you up.

It must be, what, ten? twenty minutes? of just laying there as you ponder your future with Taehyung, if you want a future at all. He’s right, you miss his friendship above all else. As much as you love Lotta, there is an intangible quality missing between you, that extra spark that existed between Taehyung which boosted your dynamic up to an incomparable level. You understood each other without having to speak, care about each other more than yourselves - that love was almost familial. Losing that has been too much.

Then you hear Taehyung shift onto his back. “Y/N?” Your heart skips a beat.

“Yeah?” You answer after a pause, mind racing through all the possibilities of what he could say. You hate this permanent uncertainty of what he’s thinking.

Silence follows for a short while, the endless possibility of what he’s going to say flooding your mind. Then, “You know how I can’t sleep without holding something?”

You stop breathing.

Because you see very clearly where this is going, and it’s down a road that you don’t know if you can withstand.

He can’t sleep without holding you. Holding you.

You take a deep breath and clamp down on your lip, grateful that your back is facing him so he can’t see the pathetic weakness on your face. Can you do this?

Can you do this without wanting to cry? Can you do this without succumbing to your momentary desire to just turn around and kiss him because you won’t be able to think straight with his arms around you? You’re really not sure.

“Yes…?”

“Can I…” Something rustles the covers, perhaps his arm, or maybe he’s inching closer. In the pitch black night, every movement feels amplified, more impactful. “You know…”

“Can you what?” You’re not being difficult, you’re giving him the chance to take back on this request. To just say nevermind and turn back around. Because you’re not equipped for his touch; you don’t want it, you don’t want the pain that comes with it.

Another pause. Take the chance, please. But his deep hesitant voice sounds in the dark, “Can I hold you please?”

You shut your eyes. That feeling in your nose again, that rush. Hold it in, don’t cry, stupid emotional bitch, don’t cry. What’s there to cry about? You wonder if this torment will end, and you wonder if you could ever stop feeling this much for him.

“I swear I’m not trying anything, I genuinely can’t sleep.” His voice has a way of penetrating deep into your bones, begging you even if it’s not his intention to.

You could say no, right? Just say no.

But that isn’t facing it, that isn’t overcoming your heartbreak. If your goal of this trip is to come out of this weekend completely devoid of feelings for him, then you need to let him stop affecting you.

“Okay. Please don’t make it weird.” You whisper, not daring to move a muscle.

Taehyung sags in relief, the bed dipping with his weight. “I won’t, I promise.” The sound of him shuffling closer to you constricts your throat. You close your eyes, awaiting the warmth of his front to meet your back, counting down in your head for that dreaded moment to come. “Come closer.” He murmurs.

When his hand fits around your waist, you know it’s an act of unconscious habit rather than intent. Slowly, he drags you into the enclosure of his chest, his scent and heat enshrouding you until you are completely engulfed by him.

He exhales, the fingertips of his breath caressing your hair ever so gently.

Every fibre in your body is tensing, eyes firmly shut and toes curled inwards. His hand feels enormous on your waist, holding you the only way he has ever known how to. With a unique type of affection that is so pure and devoted, yet also with a hint of protectiveness and possession.

Taehyung lets go of your waist only to encircle his arms around you entirely, his legs curling up under yours until you’re both cocooned together.

“You okay?” The back of your neck feels tender, sensual even, from the tickling heat of his breath. You’re too keenly aware of how close your heads are positioned, of the searing sensations that his hands are causing.

No, you’re not okay. Your skin has been lit on fire. Memories that you’ve long since tried to bury are surging back at full force, slamming into you one after the other. He’s too close, he’s everywhere. There is no distance separating you right now, yet you still feel miles away from him; you can’t comprehend his intentions nor decipher his thoughts. The fit of the crook of your back into his chest is perfect, a heartbreaking kind of perfect. This feels so so familiar. This is exactly what you had yearned and dreamt for every night for the past month - to be in his arms again. So why does it hurt even more than being alone?

Instead, you nod, “Mmm, yeah.”

A compulsion is yanking at you to lean back into him.

Taehyung exhales again and rests his cheek on the back of your shoulder where he always used to perch. If you were naked right now, he would be speckling this shoulder with soft dainty petal kisses. You hate that there is still a part of you, and mind you a very significant part, that wants it.

Your hands are inches away from touching each other; just one lift of your wrist and your fingers can clasp. The urge indunates you.

It would be so easy right now to just succumb - let your hand crawl into his because you know he would hold it, turn around and start kissing up his jaw until your tongues are tangled. You think it’s purely physical, these impulses, at least that’s what you want them to be. You just miss the intimacy, that’s all. But then why does it feel like you’ve swallowed a kaleidoscope of butterflies? Except their wings are made of glass, and everytime they flutter, you feel the shards scratch along your insides. There is desire laced in the pain. You don’t know which one is worse.

What baffles you the most is how he is alright with this, how he initiated this. He said he wants to at least be your friend, but this surely feels like a breach of friendship to anyone. Holding each other in bed is not being friends. But then again, you both have always had a warped perception of what friends should be doing.

You don’t understand how it’s so different for him. How the areas where you are touching, even if separated by layers of clothes, doesn’t tear through his sanity. If he doesn’t feel the same crack in his heart, then what does he feel?

With every heavy breath he takes, you take a silent one, eyes shut and praying to be swept away by the sleep that you don’t believe will reach you. You haven’t slept well since that night. Taehyung, on the other hand, you know is instantly sound asleep. It never used to take him more than five minutes as long as you were in his clutch.

But then, maybe there is a soothing essence in his presence with his overwhelming pleasant scent and rhythmic breathing, or maybe you’ve just exhausted your body with constant overthinking, a hazy fog drifts over your consciousness. You’re so tired, physically and mentally drained... And Taehyung feels so warm and snug around you...

The last thought you have before you drift off into reverie is that you feel his fingers slide between yours, holding not firmly but with intent. And you don’t know if it was you or him who moved it so.

You wake up from the damp heat gathered in all your crevices, the thin coat of sweat mildly irritating your skin. You are facing the glass door to the patio, and though the curtains conceal much of the windows, strips of sunlight topple past the cracks and unfurl into your room.

Taehyung’s arm is around you. Still.

After these years of living together, you know everything about Taehyung like that back of your hand. You can tell whether he’s awake or not from his breathing. And he’s most definitely asleep, though only lightly.

You look down and examine your position. In the course of the night, his forearm has travelled progressively higher until it is just about cradling your breasts. One of his legs is thrown over yours, entrapping you in his embrace. In his tangle of limbs, you slowly try to twist onto your back while prying him off.

He stirs, pulls you in tighter.

Which lands your rear in the unfortunate position of right atop his crotch. His crotch that is very much awake and way too excited.

Lethargy immediately expelled, your eyes open wide.

Morning wood is a usual occurrence for Taehyung, especially after a night of merciless teasing, but randomly a lot of the times. You shouldn’t be as surprised as you are, nor aroused. He has mentioned before how uncomfortable it can be, a blaring hard presence, a sore tension waking him up in an unforgiving manner. Which means that he can precariously wake any second n-

“Mmmm.” Voice an octave deeper than its norm, he hums, announcing his returning consciousness.

Taehyung’s morning wood and morning voice. You are being tested right now.

Your concupiscence has been gradually building up in the last few weeks from the lack of any sexual activity save for your own fingers and toys. It’s human nature, and completely goes against your will - but you feel the old friend that goes by the name lust stirring at the pit of your stomach.

At your proximity, the tip of his member digs deep between your cheeks, prodding at your entrance incontestably. Your whole body stiffens as the slowly waking Taehyung nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck habitually, arm tensing around you. Ever so slowly, you look back to steal a glance. His wildly curly hair falls over his forehead gracefully, lashes fanned out from his closed lids. He’s too beautiful for his own good.

Your core dampens and you quickly turn back around.

Fuck, please, no. You can’t be thinking about him like that. It’s so wrong. But his erection burrowed between your ass is banishing any clarity or sense from your head.

But God, you fucking miss this.

You’re going mad from deprivation. The dry spell of the past month had been voluntary, on the basis that you knew it wasn’t a healthy coping mechanism because you would only picture Taehyung over the faces of those nameless men. And because you knew no one knows you as well as he does, thus no one will succeed in satisfying you as well as him. Your sex drive was non-existent right after the break-up; sex simply didn’t cross your mind once while you were nursing your broken heart. And then it came ebbing back, though faintly and infrequently, you regained your libido and would find yourself fantasising on some lonesome nights.

But now, the situation at hand is that: you’ve allowed Taehyung to cuddle you in his sleep and you’ve consequently woken up to his undeniably hard cock poking between your legs. And he is seconds away from fully waking up as well.

So what now?

“Taehyung.” You say firmly, pushing his arm away from your breasts. It’s best if you call him out for it now rather than let it hang awkwardly in the air unsaid.

“Hmmmm..?” He rumbles sleepily. You don’t have to turn around to be able to envision his face, eyes slowly blinking open but reluctant as ever, true to his deep sleeper title.

“Taehyung.” This time you nudge back gently for emphasis. What it achieves is additional friction. Your whole lower half achse to grind back onto him, to slide over his hardened cock, to reach back and pump it in your hands.

Fuck.

You can’t.

You could, so easily, but you shouldn’t. You and Taehyung are completely over in every sense of your relationship. You can’t let this moment of weakness strip away all your efforts in moving on.

“Wha…” He mumbles, finally peeling his arm off you to stretch out. A loud yawn ensues. You take the opportunity of his loosened hold around you to twist back and pin him with a glare, hoping that your thirst is masked.

“You’re hard.”

Eyes still puffy, he stops mid-stretch at those two words. And looks down.

Did he… not notice? Or did he, in his morning hazy, momentarily get the situation confused and forget that you weren’t together?

Taehyung scrambles away from you so abruptly that he almost falls off the bed. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t- It just- I can’t control it, Y/N, you know I can’t.” His stammering is followed by his jerky movements to readjust his bulge as discreetly as one can allow in such situation. The detonation of terror on his face exacerbates your embarrassment. Because you simply don’t know what to do with yourself - with your core tingling in arousal simultaneously as your brow twitches in annoyance. When your vexed eyes meet his, you see another wave of panic crash onto him.

How did you get in this situation in the first place? If only you had just slept on the couch last night…

“Yeah, I know, stop reacting like that. Don’t make it weirder than it already is.” You berate, yanking the covers with all your strength over your shoulder and roll away from him. The distance is more for your own good. You can’t be near him right now, you can’t think about his fucking cock slipping into you.

You want to fuck. You want to fuck Taehy-

Stop that fucking thought.

“I’m sorry.” His morning voice, oh god. Burying your face into the pillow does little against the fluid pooling in your panties.

“Can you go to the toilet and… fix yourself.” When the words leave your mouth, the imagery of him fixing himself flashes before your eyes. And something pulses violently down there. Fucking fuck.

“Um, okay, sorry.” You try to not peek at him as he gets up from the bed, slightly limping as he makes his way to the toilet. But you succumb nonetheless.

His cheeks are scarlet, veins bulging on the side of his forehead, and you’re not sure if it’s from his embarrassment or the discomfort of the boner. Your eyes drop from his profile because his morning face has always been one of your weaknesses, except unfortunately for you, your eyes land on his bulge.

Another pulse down there.

You hate yourself. You feel dirty for even thinking about him like that because it’s so wrong. But then again, he’s probably thinking about you like that as well, hence the raging erection.

When the bathroom door shuts behind him, you let out a sigh. You don’t know how long you can keep hold of your sanity for like this. You’re swimming in a sea of confusing emotions: the constant melancholy you have of missing him and missing the way things were before you had fucked it up; the desperation to move on and understand that he was only a chapter of your life that is now closed; the bitter resentment that you have for yourself as a consequence of not being able to do so; and now the inescapable desire aching between your thighs because of how inherent these memories are of how he would fuck you until you cry like nobody else could.

What doesn’t help is the hint of a slow pumping rhythm from the toilet, and Taehyung’s ragged breathing.

Fuck.

You don’t want to think about how he’s jerking off on the other side of the wall right now, gripping his cock as he leans against the sink, head thrown back. But that’s exactly what you’re thinking about.

Is he thinking of you as he’s doing it? You’re not sure if you want him to, because while you wish he wouldn’t, you also hope that this lust you feel is reciprocated still, that you’re not the only one going crazy with arousal.

Your hand almost trails down to your core when his pace quickens, but his sharp inhale strikes at your inner righteousness. You stop, sit up and rush out to the patio for some fresh air.

Happy Valentine’s Sunday indeed.

.

The dough feels sticky in your hand despite the layers of flour you’ve doused your fingertips in. Baking has never been your forte, you simply don’t have the patience or precision for such a crafty hobby. You glance over to check on Taehyung’s progress at the other half of the counter.

He has the easy job. Of course, when it came to allocating roles between the pair of you in this baking session, the jam-making landed on him because there’s no way he would succeed in making the strawberry tart.

You can’t help but smile at the way his lips are puckered and brows drawn in concentration as he chops the berries as finely as he could. But the way the top half of his hair is pulled back into a little sprout of a ponytail… You gulp.

Neither of you have spoken a word of this morning’s awkward event; it had been a tacit agreement not to as soon as you made eye contact when he stepped out of the bathroom. It has set a lewd tone for the rest of your day. At every blank moment where your mind isn’t preoccupied, especially when you’re doing something as frivolous and kneading dough, your thoughts would wander to the memories of his warm rigid-

You stop yourself. You’re in public and he’s chopping strawberries right next to you.

You’ve noticed how, every time you’d have those sinful thoughts, your mood would lighten a little. The pang in your heart that used to always plague you would profoundly diminish. Of all things, of course sex is what eases your sadness the most, that’s just so characterisitic of you isn’t it?

“Is everything going well?” One of the baking assistants comes over to your counter for the seventh time now (yes you’re counting). She is a petite, rather pretty, pleasant looking girl. And you have not failed to notice how every time she checks up on you two, her attention is always solely on Taehyung. Here you are struggling with your asscheek of dough yet she only cares to ask how Taehyung, the strawberry chopper, fares?

“Yup.” Taehyung spares her a brief glance before dumping the diced pieces of fruit into the saucepan.

“Would you like some more flour?” You almost scoff out loud. You’re the one working with flour over here! Why is she asking him?

“No, thanks.” He doesn’t look up this time.

The assistant smiles to herself as if he’d said something particularly sweet to her. Until her eyes land on you. “Uh- What about you, ma’am?”

“All.” You land a punch on the buttery dough, death glare and all. “Good.” Another punch. Eyes not once wavering. She has the brains to scramble away.

You don’t have the right to assert this sort of possessiveness over Taehyung. But it’s the principle. This is a couple’s romantic holiday; she must be under the presumption that you and Taehyung are together, so how does she still dare to ogle over him like that?

“She’s flirting with you.” You rumble when she’s out of earshot.

Taehyung looks up at you from stirring his jam mixture, his lips still slightly pouted from his focus. “What? Who?”

“That baking assistant who came over just now.” You grit, trying to suppress this irrational vexation.

“Oh. Really?” Clueless, he scans across the room. “Was that the blonde or the brunette one?”

It’s a relief how truly oblivious he is that you don’t bother answering his question. It’s also completely unlike him. Since when did Kim Taehyung not notice when a girl takes interest in him? How fascinating must those strawberries be to capture his undivided attention like that?

“Would you like some flour?” You mimic, batting your lashes at him.

A wide grin spreads across his cheeks. To be honest, you don’t know what prompted you to display such friendliness to him all of a sudden. Perhaps what happened this morning, or even the fact that you slept on the same bed last night, breached one of the walls towering between you. It’s progress.

“You’ve got flour on your face.”

Fuck, again? You need to stop handling stuff like dirt and flour because they keep ending up on your face. “Ugh.” You huff, trying to let the embarrassment brush off. “Where?”

From the mischievous smirk that his grin morphed into, you should’ve known. Before you could suspect, Taehyung dabs one of his fingers into a small pile of flour and smears it down your cheek. “There.”

“You-!” You gasp, your own finger already caked in flour flying for a counter attack at his face.

But his reflexes are fast as he catches your wrist in lightning speed and tugs you towards him, his other hand simultaneously slathering another streak of white down the bridge of your nose. You tumble into him, foolish grin on your face as you twist your wrist out of his grip and manage to smear your floury thumb onto his chin.

Taehyung catches you before you could trip over your feet, smiling so wide for the first time this weekend that you can’t help but giggle. His grip on your waist feels warm. You’re close enough that you have to crane your neck to see him, close enough to see the individual hairs of his brows.

Yes, something has definitely shifted since last night.

The desire is a flame, devouring all your other senses until all you can focus on is his touch, his molten chocolate eyes, his tongue swiping out to wet his lips. You just want to…

Kiss him.

You admit it, you want to kiss him so fucking badly.

Ignition in his eyes, he stares at your lips too, smile slowly faltering. The hammering of your spastic heart cancels out all other noise in the room; you don’t see anything else except him. He doesn’t move, and neither do you. That lustful monster in your mind screams, Damn the consequences. Just kiss. Fuck being friends and fuck being strangers. Kiss him.

“Alright, lovebirds over there. These pastries won’t make themselves. Let’s get cracking!” Both of you jump and the sound of the head chef calling.

A bucket of ice cold water showers over you, extinguishing that prosperous flame. And reality materialises once again around you.

Not just the physical reality, but the reality of your situation as well - you can’t, you shouldn’t be acting like this around each other. There’s being friends, and then there’s this. The line is fine, it has always been.

It’s difficult to separate the weeds of these conglomerated emotions. You miss each other, want to kiss each other. You want the hurting to end, he wants to be friends. Your break up had been too messy for either of you to have a clear vision of what you need to do to overcome this.

Except maybe there is a cure-all solution to this.

You return to your ball of dough as Taehyung goes back to stirring his boiling jam. Yet your attention is now scattered, because a seed of an idea, most probably a very bad one, has been sown in your head.

.

It is most definitely a reckless idea, one that has the potential of going very south.

You bring it up during dinner, the supposed “romantic candlelit dinner with a string quartet” which neither of you are remotely dressed well enough for. “Taehyung, you know how you talked about closure and all that yesterday?”

Taehyung pauses, forkful of tenderloin steak stopped in midair. “Yeah..?” The hope in his voice is infused with an uncertain hesitation.

“I think we should have sex. One last time. For closure.”

The violin strikes a particularly high pitch in the background. Taehyung doesn’t move a hair for at least a good ten seconds before he blinks at you. This was definitely not what he’d anticipated from you, you can tell. But well, of course it isn’t. The idea surprised yourself.

“What? I think I heard something else, say that again?”

Oh boy. “No, you heard it right. I said I think we should sleep together for closure.” You sound unsteady to your own ears. “Release all this pent up sexual frustration we have for each other one last time and then be done with this. You said you want to be friends, right? I actually think it’s going to work for me, I’ll be able to move on afterwards, I’m almost certain.”

Frowning, Taehyung puts his fork down. “Really…? You want to have sex?”

“Yes.” You’re not even going to be shy about it at this point. You weren’t sure how this scene was going to play out but you’d envisioned it to go much smoother than this. “Do you want to?”

“I mean…” Colour of wine stains his cheeks. “Yeah… But are you sure? You were just saying last night how you can’t look at me without hurting. Do you understand why this is confusing for me?”

“I know it sounds contradictory and counterproductive, but-” You halt when you realise that there is no but. You don’t know how to verbalise the explanation that convinced you in your head. “Look at it as break up sex. It’s a common thing because it works. Like you said, we ended so quickly, in a blink of an eye. Just see this as the closing chapter of our relationship. If you don’t want to do it, just say it. I just had to throw it out there.”

Worry drips down your throat when his blank expression remains unchanged - worry that you’ve made a fatally wrong move to make things irreparably awkward now, if he so wishes not to follow through with your suggestion.

But then he nods, ponderously and maybe not entirely convinced, but you’ll take it. “I think you have a point… The thing about closure and ending this better than we did the first time round.”

“So… You’re down.”

“Down.”

So, the rest of dinner flies by with the two of you wolfing down your meal as hastily as you can. The entire time, your mind is buzzing with a strange sort of excitement for you are confident that this is necessary in accelerating your process of recovery.

You and Taehyung started with sex, so naturally, you should end with sex.

If you are eating cookies from a jar and that jar is suddenly taken away from you, you would be overcome with a surge of anger and unjust. You will always remember that awful person who took it from you. But if you are told that the jar will be taken away and the cookie in your hand is the last one you can ever have, you will cherish this last cookie and take your time eating it. It would taste different from all the other cookies you’ve had in the past - better, sweeter, because you know that it’s the last one.

Taehyung is quiet, indecipherable as you stroll back to the room. You understand his doubt, you really do. Because a night ago, if he’d have offered you the same suggestion, you would’ve thought he’s insane. But after the incident this morning, and the sparse flirtation throughout the day, there is a clear indication of unresolved sexual tension on both ends.

End this once and for all with a bang.

“Are you really up for it, Taehyung?” You check one last time, swiping the keycard at the door. “If you’re not comfortable, then we shouldn’t.”

When you look back as you push open the door, you catch his eyes, filled with purpose and trust. “No, you’re right. We need the closure.”

As the door closes behind you after you enter, it feels final - your fate is sealed, this is happening. You both stop in the middle of the room, facing each other. Shoulders tense and fists clenched. The bed has been made from this morning, a strawberry gift basket sitting on the coffee table in the corner of your eye.

Your breath feels shaky.

“So…”

“So…”

His throat is trembling too.

You break into a smile at how pathetic you’ve both become around each other, and once you do, Taehyung observably loosens up. “What are we being so nervous for?”

He smiles too, and takes a step towards you. “I don’t know.”

Bittersweet. It’s the best way to describe how you feel right now. Because this is it.

“Do you want to get in the hot tub? It feels like a waste if we don’t use it before we go. It’s our last night here.” The buzzing beneath your skin grows as you ask, and a spark lights up in his eyes at your idea.

“Say no more.” He presses a kiss on your forehead. It’s utterly out of the blue and fleeting, but enough to make your heart leap, both from the bewilderment and the knowledge that this will be one of your last acts of affection.

Taehyung walks past you towards the glass door, peeling off his shirt in the meantime to reveal the new tone of muscle on his back that he’s acquired in the past month. “I’m going to get some alcohol.” You maunder.

Your fingers are shaking as you rummage through the wine cooled for the drink you best see suitable. A strawberry champagne catches your eye. How fitting.

You can’t explain how jittery you feel as you completely strip off your clothes. This is the last time with Taehyung. The profound significance, the pressure, the emotions, tide after tide hitting you.

Two glasses of champagne in your hand, you inhale sharply, and let it all out.

This is it. This is the conclusive ending you asked for.

Warm water bubbling up to his chest, you find him seated in the hot tub awaiting you. The boxers discarded by the side implies that it was a last minute decision of his to go completely naked. And when he notices your nude form strutting out to the patio to join him, he sucks in. The way his eyes rake down your body then back up to your face sends flutters to you core, but also a nostalgic pang.

Eye contact does not break for a second as you climb into the hot tub and sit yourself adjacent to him. The chilly evening breeze with the heated effervescing water provides the perfect ambient temperature. Taehyung accepts the champagne you hand him, finger brushing over yours in a way that could only be intentional. He’s savouring every touch.

“To Mykonos, to the heatwave, to us and our last time.” You toast. The lump in your throat almost doesn’t permit the words to be said.

“To Mykonos, to the heatwave, to us and our last time.” He repeats after you. Clink. And down the drink goes.

A sigh, from both of you. The champagne is bittersweet, too. And you feel that surge behind your nose again, the sting behind your eyes.

“Isn’t it funny how the universe plays out?” Taehyung says, gaze falling to your lips, then your neck, then collar. He slides closer to you. “The first time we kissed was in water, the Mediterranean Sea. And now, the last time will be in water too.”

You don’t say anything for you need a moment to collect the tears. Then you place your glass on the edge of the tub and waddle through the water until you are perched on his lap. He receives you like you’re made of glass, gentle hands coming around your bare back to pull you down onto him. You brush away his dark untamed curls from his face, appreciating the thickness of his hair between your fingers because you don’t think you’ll get to touch it again. His hands trail low to the small of your back; you feel yourself brush up against his member, already hard and poised.

You want to tell him that you love him, that you will always always love him. But you know you would break if you say it.

So you just lean down to kiss him.

People like to describe their kisses like electricity, fire, a bolt of lightning striking down their spine. But for you, it really isn’t like that at all. When your lips meet, it feels like your first sip of cocoa on the first day of winter warm but not hot enough to burn, feels as though you’re interlocking fingers in a crowd of busy bodies and his thumb brushes over yours to tell you it’s okay, I’m right here and I won’t let go.

And you both pull away at the same time, a string of saliva between your mouths.

Because you both feel it, and it’s too much.

But this is the last time, you remind yourselves. Last time.

So your lips fall back onto him, fuelled by a passion you’ve never felt before. His mouth is velvet, fitting over yours so perfectly that it hurts. His hand finds your face, wet from being submerged, and he holds you more tenderly than he would an infant. Your chest is imploding from every ragged breath you take between hot kisses and you just let it.

Arousal pulling at your strings, your hand snakes down his front, dips into the water and wraps around his cock. “Ah…” Taehyung groans into your mouth. Your touch swipes across his tip. “Fuck, baby.”

Baby.

That is your undoing.

His teeth find your breasts, taking your nipple and teasing it until you’re whimpering in need. The roughness of his tongue tingles your sensitive bud so much that your eyes roll back and your vision is black and dotted with stars. The water providing you with a newfound ease, you pump him relentlessly, sitting up so you can slide his tip over your clit and along your folds. Because neither of you can wait, you’re cutting to the chase. Anything else can wait until subsequent rounds.

Every time his head brushes past your clit, a convulsion shoots up you. Your thighs quiver around him as he digs his fingers into the flesh of your ass. And when you inch by inch sink down onto his cock, the euphoric stretch in your walls numbs all other sensation.

You have missed this so much. It’s been so long.

“Fuck, you’re tight.” Taehyung’s voice is shaky, breath hitched.

“It’s ‘coz I haven’t…”

You don’t have to finish the sentence for him to understand and reply, “Me neither.”

The boost of reassurance and confidence that it grants you makes you roll your hips over his. From the absence of sex the past month, your cunt has grown unaccustomed to his size. Your entire core aches, but in the best way you could ask for. The water sloshes as you gain a steady rhythm. You have to bite down onto his ear to stop the volume at which you want to cry out because you remember that you are outdoors.

Taehyung’s face burrows into your neck, panting hard, but thrusting harder. You think back to every single one of your times together, from beginning to now. Your arms encircle tighter around him as you kiss the shell of his ear.

The initial pain in your walls is beginning to trickle away, leaving in its wake the claws of pleasure running up and down your body. Taehyung’s cock performs wonders on you that no one else can - it’s just a fact that you have to accept now. Nothing will compare.

Yet you can come to terms with it. You can gladly accept that Taehyung will be the best thing you’ll ever have.

But then you feel the dampness. At first, you mistaken it as droplets of water splattering onto you so you ignore it. And amidst you bouncing onto him, you don’t notice how Taehyung’s shoulders are shuddering.

You stop.

And feel the streaks of his tears running down your neck from where his face is pressed onto.

You can’t describe the shattering in your heart when you look down to find him crying into you. You can’t speak, can’t move, can’t even cry back at him.

It leaves you in wreckages, how he’s holding you close to him still, clinging on despite your how you’ve stopped, muffled sobs cracking out of this throat.

It takes a while for you to regain your voice, but his tears are still ceaseless. “Taehyung…”

When he looks up, you’re struck with another ammunition of distraught. The redness of his eyes, the sad distortion of his beautiful features, the endless endless tears...

“Y/N, I can’t. I really can’t.” His voice is hoarse, as if he’s been screaming silently.

“I-I’m sorry, you should’ve said. I’m so sorry I didn’t realise.” You’re stupefied from the horrendous sight of a completely broken Taehyung underneath you. You immediately climb off him.

“I-” He sniffs. “I love you so fucking much. I love you more than I love myself and I can only ever love you more each day.” You feel it again, the surge in your nose, the sting behind your eyes. You’re choked up, speechless, resenting yourself for putting him through this. You want to bury your head in the water and cry until you pass out. 

“Y/N, I didn’t ever want to lose you because I know I would lose myself. But then I lost you. And I lost myself.” His sobs strangle you by the throat.

“Taehyung, I’m sorry. About everything I’ve done. It’s all my fault and I will always hate myself for hurting you so much.” A single tear rolls down your face, you can’t hold it in anymore. Then a second, third. At the unstoppable oceans pouring from his eyes, you feel destroyed.

“I don’t even care about that! I’m not hurt by Junho or Jimin, I don’t care. Having to wake up every day knowing that you’re not beside me has been the most painful thing I’ve had to deal with. You are my home, Y/N. I don’t want to live in a life that you’re not a part of. I just can’t live without you and I can’t stand it. I can’t- I can’t...”

“Then don’t.”

Confusion draws his browns into a frown. “What?” His face is still warped in pain. You can’t stand it anymore either.

“Then don’t live without me.”

Your teeth dig into your lip to stop your own bawling.

All this conflict back and forth has taken such a toll on you and what for? At the end of the day, one unwavering fact stands true and untested: you love each other no matte what. So why should you let mistakes of the past keep you apart?

“What?” He says again, though understanding starts to seep through.

“I love you, Taehyung. I can’t not love you. I’m not myself if I don’t. So let’s stop this bullshit. I can’t live without you and you can’t live without me. So then let’s not leave each other again.”

You stare at each other, on this cool February night, warm water gurgling up to your collars, the cloudless night sky flaunting it’s collection of stars. And you promise to stay by each other for as long as you live.

“Okay.” That’s all Taehyung can muster.

“I’m yours, Taehyung. My heart is completely yours forever.” His violent flow of tears subside into gentle trickles.

“Okay.” He stands up in the tub, and you mirror his action. Water weeps off your skin, inviting the cold to infiltrate.

Nothing more needs to be said. Your mouths find each other the way they always do, the crashing of your lips, scraping of your teeth. A new tear rolls off Taehyung’s face and onto your fused lips, but it’s different this time. They’re tears of insuppressable joy, knowing that the taste of your tongue is entirely his, the porcelain of your skin is entirely his. You’re shivering from the temperature of the night, but you don’t feel the cold.

His hands come behind your thighs and lift you up to his face level, wrapping your legs around your torso the way he did in Mykonos. With careful steps, he carries you back into the room, past the bed, that poor couch that was collateral damage to your mutual pining, and sets you down onto the bathroom countertop.

When he finally breaks away from the kiss and takes in your beauty under the bright light of the room, there is no less than absolute adoration in his eyes. Never anything less. “I love you and I’m yours.”

Taehyung wraps the only massive white towel he can find around your wet naked body, disregarding the cold attacking his own. You frown at him, hooking him between your legs so you can fling the towel over his shoulders as well.

“I love you and I’m yours.” You say back, blotting his body dry. It’s such a simple statement, yet the meaning it holds for the two of you is so heavy. They’re the very words that you have never found the strength to say to each other, until now.

“Say that again.” You melt under his smile, not a single trace of worry to be found in your brain.

“I love you. And I’m yours.”

You twist your neck back to follow his glare at reflection in the mirror of your huddled bodies under the towel. Cheeks pushed up from glee, heads leaning against each other, and just like that - all your heartache vanishes without a trace.

“Mine?” Taehyung pecks your brow, still smiling.

“Yours.” Legs clamping around him tighter, you turn to face him. “And how are you this hard again already?” His cock’s ability to stay erect is astounding, truly.

“Don’t you know? You could breathe and my cock would be hard.” Laughter erupts both your chests and it’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard.

Allowing the towel to drop around you, your hand slips between your bodies to clutch onto his length. Responsiveness ripples through his toned abdomen. “I want to suck…” You nuzzle your nose to his, your breaths amalgamating.

Taehyung sighs into your mouth. “But I want to-” Your grip tightens around him as you drag out a pump, eyes wide with feign innocence. “Okay, what the fuck, that’s not fair.”

“You’ll get to do whatever you want to me after.” You trail your mouth along his jaw.

“F-Fine.”

He lets you slide off the marble counter with the skin of his neck pinched between your teeth. When he realises that you’re marking him in clouds of purple, his head falls back and gives himself up as your canvas. You understand the appeal of hickeys now. For you two, it’s an agreement, a promise, an exchange of trust. You continue down his front, teeth grazing his nipples, lower and lower, kissing along the protrusion of his pelvic bone. Until you arrive at his cock.

“Do you remember the whole ice cube thing during the heatwave?” You run your finger up his length, over his oozing slit. The heatwave feels like an eon ago, but also like just yesterday.

Stiffening, Taehyung looks down. “Yes…”

“How about I pay you back for that one?” You take his shut eyes and sparse nod as compliance because you know he’s not capable of words right now.

You dash away to collect a glass of ice from the drink cooler, but on your way find something even better. Something you’ve always wanted to try.

Taehyung is slowly touching himself when you return, mildly surprised by the second item you brought back with you. “Whipped cream? Isn’t that from the gift basket?”

“You up for it?” A smirk stretches.

“Very up and very hard.” He lets go of his member and watches you drop to your knees.

To moisten him first, you slowly lap circles around his head, applying considerable pressure and letting the tip of your tongue tease at his sensitive opening. You look up when he moans, and takes his girth into your mouth, sliding his cock further and further down your throat until he pokes the back. Then you pull up with a pop, echoing within the walls of the bathroom.

You take two ice cubes from the glass, one placed between your lips, and the other to massage over your clit. The icy sensation strikes a numbing sensation into your core when it touches your bud of nerves. The cube in your mouth, you begin to trace slowly from the base of his shaft all the way up.

A string of profanities leaves Taehyung at the temperature, and seeds a satisfaction between your legs.

The ice is melting quickly from the heat of your mouth so you waste no time to guide it down to his scrotum resting on your palm. “Fuck.” He whines, his whole length twitching.

When this cube dissolves into nothing but a puddle of your tongue, you take another, ruthlessly educing those curses from him. His tip is the most sensitive part of him, so that’s where you focus on, smearing the edges of the cube around the curve of his head. His thighs tense in euphoric spasms.

The whipped cream comes next. With a few shakes of the canister, you hold his cock pointed towards yourself and view the spiral of white untainted cream unfold onto his head.

“Ah!” Taehyung yelps.

“You good?” You glance up to check that he still has a rein on his sanity.

“It just scared me.” You chuckle and place a kiss on his shaft.

“You should be scared.”

Eyes lock on his, you watch him watch you vulgarly smear the cream all over his cock with your lips. Its sweetness oozes into your mouth and sinks into your tongue. “Mmm.” You hum at the pleasant taste. Then you start to suck, the cream providing you with a lubrication that your spit has never been able to replicate. His cock glides into your mouth with such little resistance that you gag around him.

“Oh fuck, that feels so good.” He can’t look away from you, your hollowed out cheeks and large eyes as you bob your head deeper and deeper. Ribald wet sloppy noises squeaking from your mouth. “Uh fuck.”

Taehyung’s fingers entangle in your hair, guiding your motion in and out. The cream swirls in your mouth, the taste prompting you to suck harder until your mouth adheres like a second skin to his cock. He’s soon panting, even as you come up for air and to spray more cream on him.

“Yeah, keep going. Can I come in your mouth?” His eyes are almost screwed shut, but still open to keep watching. The rise and fall of his chest, and the bulging vein down the side of his cock - he’s close.

You keep sucking, relishing in the taste of the cream, the ease at which his tip glides along your throat, your own fluid dripping from your cunt.

“Fuc- Ah!” Gripping your hair tight, he thrusts hard into you as he cums, ribbons of his own cream mixing in your mouth. Taehyung’s dick pulses violently at the shaft. You watch his jaw fall open, brows pinch together, as the liquid dribbles down your throat.

You pull his length out of you with a great gasp and swallow all the remnants. “Shit. How was that?” Out of breath, you wipe the mess around your mouth with the dropped towel.

“Give me a second to recover from that, baby.” Arms on the countertop to support him, Taehyung lets his head droop back so far that his hair touches his elbows. You wet the towel at the sink and clean his slowly limping member. “Fuck that was…”

When his eyes open again, there is a fury that you know to be afraid of. He hauls you up onto your two feet and latch onto your lips, not caring about the filthy things they’ve just done to him.

“I need to be inside you.” He grumbles. “Give me five, ten minutes and I'll be ready again.”

“Hmm.” Arms sliding around his neck, you let him walk you onto the bed, hovering over you while his hands fondle your breasts that have become lonely. The insides of your thighs are slick with your arousal - that doesn’t go unnoticed.

Scissoring your folds open with his long digits, this thumb finds your clit, bulging and throbbing with desire. The vibrations coursing into you as he starts to rub compels you to arch back. You are really just a plaything when under his touch, as malleable as dough.

“Taehyung!” And for some reason, you calling out his name flips an animalistic switch in him.

With your neck fully exposed, he ceases the opportunity to nibble all over your unmarred skin, leaving angry blotches in return of your marks on him. This thumb is working quickly, the pressure at your clit superimposing second by second.

“Wait.” He lifts his head up abruptly, though fingers still going. “Do you want to sit on my face?”

Your heart jolts in excitement at the mere mention of it. “Didn’t even have to ask.” It has always been something you’ve wanted to try but never gotten around to.

Swapping positions, Taehyung reclines onto his back while you situate your knees on either side of his face. His hands grip onto your waist, guiding your descent onto his thrill-teeming face.

An incredible shock of pleasure fires up your spine when he takes your clit between his lips and sucks. This position grants him an unobstructed access to your pussy, no awkward angle, no cramping neck. So the assail he commences is totally, and unfortunately for your lucidity, merciless. His hands grapple onto your freely hanging breasts, rolling your nipples between fingertips.

Crying aloud from the ecstatic twisting sensation, you feel your eyes water. It’s almost too much, the mind warping accumulation of tension in your cunt. “Like that, Taehyung.”

One of his hands leaves your breast only to insert his digits into your dripping slit. Your thighs are aching, close to giving way; you don’t think you can withstand this tremendous stimulation.

His tongue doesn’t stop and neither do his fingers. Breathing through his nose heavily, he continues to coil your core into loops and loops of hypertension

You’re so close, so close.

And you’re there.

The pulsing waves of your orgasm sweep you away. You don’t even hear your own moans, just the roaring of your blood in your ears. Your whole body writhes above Taehyung, but your muscles don’t permit you to move off him while so ransacked by this high.

It last long, nearing half a minute before your senses come back to you.

And finally, you sag and topple over, trusting Taehyung to catch you and roll you onto your back.

“What the fuck.” You pant, low frequency pulsations still resonating down your legs, in awe of how he never fails to tip you over the edge. And the striking difference between the male and female orgasm is that, unlike Taehyung, you immediately want more when you’re done. “Taehyung, please, I need you to fuck me.”

His reply startles you. “No.” You open your eyes and find him regarding you with such reverence that only confuses you more.

“No?”

Cupping your face in his palm as he props himself on his elbow over you, Taehyung leans down and kisses your nose. Then your mouth. “Y/N.” Your temple. “I want to.” Your ear. “Make love to you.”

He paints a constellation of wet kisses all over you.

“How does that sound, baby?”

You immediately pull him back onto your own lips, a desperate craving as you kiss him back hard. “I love you.” You really do. It’s the one thing you’re the most certain about in this world.

“Ahhh.” Readjusting over you yet still keeping the close distance between your faces, he takes his cock in his hand and pumps. “You know you do to me when you say those words?” He kisses you again, so softly that his lips feel like rose petals. As he lines his tips along your entrance, you shut your eyes and prepare for it.

“I love you.” You repeat. And he sinks in.

It feels different, so entirely different from the previous time tonight. There is not an ounce of concern, of doubt, of hesitancy. You feel safe underneath him, secure.

His tender moans unravelling into songs of vulnerability. “I love you, too.” He whispers into your ear, and you understand what he means by how much these three words have an effect because them alone are almost enough to capsize you again.

His thrust, though lacking its usual roughness, does not lack in anything else. Every time he plummets into you, his mouth finds yours. Your hands are interlocked, pinned down onto the pillow. The surprising intimacy of that act overflowing to the brim. And you swear you could see heaven right then and there.

You feel nothing but love and devotion throughout.

He makes love to you over and over again this night, Valentine’s night. And despite your usual preferences, the sensations between your legs, in your chest, in your mind, are unrivaled.

Transcendental.

When it’s all over, when you’re nothing more than sweaty skin, damp hair, and hearts full of love for each other, you spend your time taking in each other’s details. His unblemished complexion. The beauty mark under the lashes of his right eye. The perfect shape of his cupid's bow that doesn’t seem humanly possible. Everything.

“What we had didn’t work, but we’re not going to repeat those mistakes again, I won’t hurt you again, I promise.” You whisper softly as you caress his cheek. “It’s all or nothing. And you have all of me.”

The glaze over his sincere eyes hasn’t left yet, though you don’t suppose your eyes are completely dry either.

You continue, “Seeing you break down like that today was… the hardest thing for me to witness. So much worse that our stupid pointless fights, and the nights where I would cry myself to sleep. And I can’t apologise enough for causing you that much pain.”

Taehyung’s eyes trailing down bashfully, and you almost worry that he’d cry again.. “I… I can’t believe the day finally came where I cried during sex…” You let out a round of laughter at what he chooses to dwell on.

“I love you so much that it makes me sick. I’m honestly disgusted and mortified by myself.” You snicker in his hair.

“Look, what about me? I love you so much that I cried during sex. Not even just a tear either. Full on sobs. I think I’m the bigger loser here.” The fact that he can joke about the situation reassures you that he’s over it. The mood once again lightens.

“All this just because you couldn’t keep your dick in your pants during a heatwave.”

He pulls you closer into his rumbling chest, laughing to himself as he toys with your earlobe between his teeth.

You fall asleep in each other’s arms, for the first time as each other’s lovers. And for the rest of the nights that come after.

.

A/N: Alexa, play ‘Fuck it I love you’ by Lana Del Rey.

Thank you everyone for the incredible love and support you’ve unfailingly shown Heatwave. As my first fic, I am of course so very attached to these characters and ending this series is such a bittersweet feeling. It’s been such a lovely journey to write this couple and although I don’t plan on writing anything for them in the next few months, I won’t close off that possibility completely.

Love you!

- Kristy

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27/04/20

© Copyright 2020

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[mickey-millagher]

At long last she’d found aunt Ginger’s body, just the latest of Frank’s many mistakes that she’d had to take care of over the years. Least with the body located she could finally have a moment of peace before the next disaster hit, Fiona thought as she made her way up to steps to the kitchen.

She opened the door.

Mickey Milkovich was bleeding out of his ass onto her countertop.

So much for a moment of peace.

“Ian what the fuck?” She yelled over the yelps coming from the teenage thug being operated on by... Jimmy’s dad.

“I can explain this.” Came Ian’s earnest reply.

Yeah he better have a fucking good explanation to boot, Fiona thought before noticing the woman standing in her living room.

After that in the chaos of having the kids yet again taken away from her, their home and each other. Finding out why Mickey Milkovich was bleeding out in her kitchen didn’t seem very important.

The house was quiet at last, Debbie, Carl and Liam finally being convinced to get some sleep after hours of celebrating their win at count. Jimmy had turned in hours before hand but Fiona couldn’t make herself stick to the kids bedtimes tonight. She knew it probably wasn’t the best start to her guardianship but she’d missed her kids so much and it wasn’t a school night, one late night wouldn’t hurt.

|

She smiled over at Ian as he crashed back down onto the sofa, handing her one of the beers he’d gone to get from the kitchen, leaving the second on the coffee table for Lip once he returned from the toilet, and opening the third himself.

“Good to be home?”

“Yeah, definitely beats the group home.”

That wasn’t a surprise, she’d spent time in group homes herself, back when she was still considered a kid. They’d been horrible enough but had nothing on what she’d heard about Gunderson House.

“So you still owe me an explanation.”

Ian blinked at her, clearly confused.

“Huh?”

“Why the hell was Mickey Milkovich of all people basically being operated on in my kitchen?”

In the weeks since her kids had been taken, there had been a lot more pressing issues on Fiona’s mind than the shot up Milkovich kid. But now that things were settled she wanted answers. Answers it seemed her little brother was reluctant to give if the look on his face was anything to go by.

Ian looked away from her, shrugging.

“It’s kinda a long story.”

“You said you could explain.” Fiona said, reaching over to nudge him slightly. “Well I want that explanation.”

Ian looked up at her then, thats when she realised he’d looked away to hide the tears gathering in the corner of his eyes.

“I’m kinda tired, can we talk about this another time?” It was a question but his voice cracked slightly at the end and he was moving to get up before he’d even finished the sentence.

Fiona wasn’t an idiot, she knew her brothers hid things from her. Honestly there was a whole lot of things she was glad they didn’t talk to her about. Teenage boy stuff she really didn’t need to know. Ian especially, for a kid who’d always worn his heart on his sleeve, had always been good at keeping his cards close to his chest. Fiona had hoped that after he’d felt comfortable to come out to her, that he’d start to let her in, just a little bit more, talk to her about the important things he’d kept hidden away. That hadn’t happened, if anything he was pulling further away. She worried that soon he’d be lost to her completely.

“Hey.” She reached out grabbing his arm. “What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing, just tired, it’s been a long day.” He attempted to smile but it seemed off, fake instead of his usual big dopey grin. Thinking about it, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen it.

“Ian I changed your shitty diapers, you honestly think I can’t tell when you’re lying?”

Ian let out a breath and dropped back down onto the sofa. She could see Lip, standing in the shadows of the kitchen, concerned, ready to jump in to help their brother, same as always. If even Lip didn’t know what was going on with Ian, it had to be bad. She shook her head slightly at Lip, telling him to stay put, the more people the less likely it was that Ian would open up, and she was really starting to get a bad feeling.

“Come on Sweetface, what’s going on?”

“Nothing, I’m handling it okay?”

“Can’t be nothing if there’s something to handle. You know you can talk to me.”

Ian looked at her for a second. “Yeah I know.” He paused for a second, maybe debating finally opening up to his sister. “I’m gonna turn in, night.”

“Ian wait a second.”

Ian didn’t reply, his back already disappearing up the stairs.

Fiona turned towards Lip who’d slowly made his way into the room while Ian had ran upstairs.

“You know what’s going on with him?”

“No, he seemed fine, well about a week ago he came back with bruises and seemed a little shaken up, wouldn’t talk about it but he seemed okay the next day so.”

Fiona frowned, turning to look once again to the stairs, up which where her little brother had just gone. Something was definitely going on with him, it was only a question of if he’d ever let her know what.

|

It was the sixth day in a row that she’s visited Ian at the Milkovich house. Six days since she got an early release, only to get home to find her brother practically comatose in Mickey’s bed. She still didn’t quite understand what was going on between the two teenagers, just that when Ian came home, Mickey came with him. And now that Ian was sick, the Milkovich was saying Ian was his family and refusing to let him leave. Not that there was much of a chance of moving Ian, getting him to the bathroom was hard enough, let along the few blocks to the Gallagher house. Still she didn’t trust Mickey to be able to take care of him, family or not. So everyday she came over, brought him food, spent hours sitting with him, trying to get him to talk. All the things she’d long since given up doing for Monica. All the things she couldn’t imagine giving up on for Ian.

She eased the door open, no one without a death wish would dare steal from the Milkoviches so the front door was almost always unlocked. She could see a few Milkovich siblings or cousins, she was never sure which, while on her way to Mickey’s bedroom but didn’t pay them much mind, they weren’t who she was here for.

The door to Mickey’s room was slightly ajar, letting Fiona see into the room without making her presence known.

“Come on man you gotta eat something.” Mickey was crouched down on the far side of the bed, a bowl and spoon clutched in his hands.

“Not hungry.”

It was crazy how those two words made Fiona’s heart soar. They weren’t positive but Ian had made such few acknowledgments of them over the past week that it still felt like improvement.

“Couple of spoonfuls and I’ll leave you alone.”

“Ayy Mickey get out here, need your opinion on something.” Came a yell from the living room.

Mickey looked up from the redhead, locking eyes with his boyfriend’s sister from across the room, but seemingly unsurprised to find her there.

“Can I try?” She asked tentatively, not wanting to cause Mickey to have another outburst, not with Ian so vulnerable in the room

Mickey shrugged. “Sure.” He replied, leaving the bowl and spoon on the side table before leaving to settle whatever his family had going on.

“Hey Ian, how’re you feeling today?” She asked taking Mickeys spot on the floor.

Ian just blinked back at her before slowly closing his eyes completely

“Things seem kinda crazy around here, guess crazy just goes with the Milkoviches. Follows them around or something. You know crazy, like that time Mickey was bleeding out in the kitchen. Seems almost like it could be a normal occurrence here, that why I never got an explanation?” Fiona forced a little laugh at the end, she was trying to keep all her interactions with Ian upbeat in the hope in might help him. It hadn’t so far.

“M tired Fi.”

“That’s what you said last time I ask you know.”

Ian made no move to acknowledge she’d spoken that time, a reaction she was slowly getting used to.

“Okay you don’t wanna talk. Can you eat something for me?”

She didn’t get a response that time either.

|

It was hard to believe this was going to be the last time she sat around this table, in this kitchen, having dinner with her family like she had so many times before. She may have moved out two years ago but the time she’d spent here, growing up and raising her siblings alongside her, was never something she would fully leave behind. Even if now they were selling the house, all of them moving on with their lives like she’d chosen herself when she’d left.

“The amount of shit this kitchen has seen, hope the new owners have bleach.” Lip said with a laugh.

“I feel like I’ve got to ask, but do you mean actual shit?”

“What no, well probably not.”

“Cousin Patrick did leave that toilet in the middle of the living room.” Debbie pointed out.

“Okay maybe actual shit.”

Mickey wrinkled his nose. “You said my house was bad.”

“Like you haven’t left you’re mark on the kitchen, I came home to you bleeding out on the countertops once.”

“Oh fuck yeah, still got the scars from that shit. If I’d been allowed to take my guns.” He paused to glare at his husband. “Then none of that would have happened.”

“How was I suppose to know the drunk old lady had a shotgun?”

“It was your fucking heist, you’re meant to find this shit out!”

“Wait so that’s what happened, you were breaking in somewhere and he got shot?”

Ian shrugged. “Ned asked me to steal some stuff from his wife’s house. Didn’t think anyone would get hurt.”

“Well you thought wrong.” Mickey huffed.

“Aww poor baby.” Ian cooed, putting a hand around Mickey to pull him over and kiss the side of his head. Mickey seemed to be trying to keep glaring throughout but a slight smile broke through. The stability the two of them seemed to have these days was a welcome surprise for Fiona when she’d arrived the day before, she hadn’t been fully sure what to expect from the renewed relationship between the two of them but it looked like this time for the most part the two of them had their act together.

“Wait who’s Ned?” Liam asked.

Ian opened his mouth to speak but Lip beat him to it.

“Ned was this old dude that Ian was banging back in the day to make Mickey jealous. He was also the dad of Fiona’s boyfriend at the time.”

“Thanks for that Lip.”

“I wasn’t fucking jealous.”

“I regret asking.”

The three replies came at the same time, sparking more voices to keep talking over each other and several conversations spiralling at once.

Fiona leaned back, not quite wanting to participate right now, just wanting to bask in the warmth of the chaos of her family home one last time. And processing that finally she got that long ago promised explanation, maybe not quite worth the wait, it was still nice to finally know.

[spartanguard]

partners

summary: SVU detective Emma Swan's new partner is not what she expected. Thankfully, that's a good thing.

A/n: So I've been watching a LOT of Law & Order: SVU lately and when I got to the episodes where Stabler was partnered with Dani Beck, it just smacked with CS feels. This is just a bit of exploration of that, in honor of @optomisticgirl​ ‘s birthday!!

B—HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! Thank you for being the most amazing friend, and the best person to bounce crazy fic ideas off of (like this). I hope you have the most amazing day and I love you!!!!

Note: While there isn't any actual sexual violence in this story, it is an SVU AU, so it's mentioned.

rated T | 2.3k words | AO3

She met him while he was trying to arrest a perp who’d just walked.

“Are you Detective Swan?” he’d asked, and she immediately noticed his accent—the way it wrapped around her last name in a way that sent a shiver down her spine, but it was hard to tell if it was in a good way or not.

“Yeah, that’s me,” she tossed back.

“I’m your new partner. Killian Jones.”

She shook his offered hand (only later noticing he only had the one) and wondered—just what the hell were they about to get into?

[He was her second new partner in as many weeks. Graham, who she’d worked with since she joined the unit, had enough with special victims—with Boston in general—and had taken up some smalltown sheriff gig in Maine. Emma knew he’d be happier there, but it kind of left her in the lurch. They’d sent someone new over the week before, but her style didn’t gel with Mulan’s quite well enough—the woman was a damn fine detective but just...too different.]

Jones was new to special victims, transferring in on the recommendation of the captain at his previous precinct, where he’d worked in homicide. The dead victims, he was used to; the live ones—not so much.

It was pretty obvious on their first case together, when they were interviewing the young girl in the hospital. Emma—she’d seen enough of the world’s shitty side that little phazed her any more; growing up in the foster system made her uniquely suited to this line of work.

But Killian? He was visibly upset; she had to physically restrain him from running out of the hospital to start tracking down the culprit, holding him back by the sleeve of his leather jacket. They hardly had a lead on this. Something could be said for enthusiasm, but that didn’t excuse jumping ahead of themselves. That’s how you got into trouble—that was how criminals got away with murder (literally); she’d done that enough for the both of them, and had a feeling he had, too.

She felt they had a lot in common, actually; there was an obvious affinity for leather coats, but past that, there was something familiar in his eyes. Not that she’d met him before, or anything—just something in the determined set of his gaze when interviewing a suspect, in the empathetic way he handled the victim.

She still wasn’t sure if that was good or not, especially when he almost forgot protocol—almost lost them evidence—by rushing in too soon.

And she was half ready to walk into Captain Mills’ office to request a new partner (again) when she found him asleep at his desk with what could only be described as a murderboard spread out behind him. He looked younger and softer in his sleep, impossibly gorgeous with the way his long lashes rested on his cheekbones and gentle breaths from his full lips—and none of that was really pertinent, because the man had just researched his way to a solved case.

“Just who are you, Killian Jones?” she asked when she later woke him up with coffee and a bear claw (biting back a comment on the rumpled state of his usually pristine waistcoat-and-dress shirt combo).

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he drawled, holding her gaze intently before taking a long pull from his cup.

She knew she shouldn’t, but damn, did she.

It wasn’t until a couple cases later that she began to put together the pieces of him. It had been a doozy of a kidnapping, and he’d been on edge the whole time—right until they finally tracked down the little boy who’d been abducted. Emma slapped the cuffs on the miserable excuse for a father who’d taken him and Killian pulled the boy into his arms, visibly deflating once he knew he was safe.

She dragged him to their unit’s favorite bar that night and slid a glass of rum in front of him, along with the directive to “Talk.”

He downed it in one shot, then worried his bottom lip (much to Emma’s distraction) before saying, “Have I mentioned I have a daughter?”

Her eyebrows rose in surprise, but she let him explain without interruption. Her name was Alice; she was 8. He had sole custody, and with good reason: her mother, his ex-girlfriend, had kidnapped her from his apartment when she was only a few years old. “It’s the most scared I’ve ever been,” he confessed. “And today...it’s like I was right back in that moment.”

“I don’t blame you,” she replied, then finished her own whiskey. This was probably where she should drop some of her own tragic backstory, right? Like the scumbag who left her pregnant at 17, and the baby boy she put up for adoption? “Props to you for doing it on your own. I obviously couldn't.”

“Don’t beat yourself up, love; you gave him his best chance.” He gently set his hand over hers on the bar and she froze; not because he was cold—quite the opposite, actually—but between that tiny gesture of support and the understanding in those too-blue eyes, she felt more seen than she had by anyone in ages, even Graham.

It was suddenly too much, too intimate, and she yanked her hand away and ordered another drink. “Is your ex the name on your tattoo?” she asked, trying to put some space in between them (physically and emotionally).

It worked. He sat back up and tugged his right sleeve down with his prosthesis, hiding the ink, and she could almost see the walls go back up between them. “No. That’s...another story. For another time.” He stood and tossed some cash on the counter. “Alice is with my neighbor; I better go get her. See you ‘round.” And he left hastily.

It was what she wanted to happen. He’d suddenly gotten too close. So why did she feel like such an ass about it?

She was going to apologize at their next shift, but they got thrown into another case. And then another after it. It was a different kind of intense—a different kind of intimate—than that moment in the bar; very quickly, she had to trust him, and vice versa. That was something neither were predisposed to, but were managing to do...honestly, better than she had with anyone.

After putting another rapist behind bars, Killian said with a smirk, “I don’t mean to upset you, Swan, but I think we make quite the team.” And he winked (well, tried to), and she just blushed back, like she was a teenager in love all over again. That fact that would normally send her running but, for the first time in years, she wasn’t opposed to it—except for, y’know, the fact that he was her partner and they were coworkers and HR generally looked down on that kind of thing.

She doubted he was interested, anyway. They hadn’t really done anything outside of work since that night; he was always quick to get home to Alice, and she didn’t fault him that—especially when she finally met the kid, who was clearly her father’s daughter in all the best ways.

They got a call for a case late one weeknight; Emma easily beat him to the scene, since he had to make sure his neighbor could watch Alice at such an ungodly hour. She handed him a coffee when he got there and they made their way to the ME, to get the rundown on the vic. 

Emma had been paying attention, but it shifted from the examiner to Killian pretty quickly; he stiffened at the description of what had been done to the victim, then when white as the sheet covering her when it was pulled back.

“Eloise,” he whispered, like he’d seen a ghost.

“Wait—as in…?”

He nodded. “Aye. Alice’s mum.”

“Shit.”

They got what little information they could from the scene and then started to head for the precinct, but he was shaking so much, she insisted on driving.

“Are you gonna be alright?” she asked.

He let out a hollow chuckle. “No, probably not.” Then, one long breath later, “It was Gold.”

She nearly missed their turn at that. “Gold? As in, the mysterious Mr. Gold, owner of the pawn store chain?”

“One and the same,” Killian said, scrubbing a hand down his face. “It’s the same as with Milah.”

She would have asked who that was, but he was resting his prosthesis over the spot on his arm where she knew the tattoo was. And she got a sinking feeling in her stomach that this was going to be a rough case.

Once they got to the office (and she got some more coffee in him), Killian explained: Milah was his ex, his first love—but also Gold’s wife. And while Gold was well-known for being a shady individual, no one had ever been able to pin anything on him.

But Gold did find out about their affair, and Killian came home one day to find Milah—dead, attacked and killed in the same way Eloise had been hours ago. He wasn’t sure what their connection was—and he didn’t think Gold knew about his to Eloise, especially since she’d only been released from jail last week—“But I know it’s him. And I’m going to prove it this time.”

(Apparently, last time had ended with him getting into an altercation with one of Gold’s lackeys. He escaped with his life, but not with his left hand.)

Milah’s case had gone cold, but given the similarities, they were able to pull the files. It took a few weeks—several late nights, more than a few breakdowns, many tears (mostly Killian’s, but Emma’s and Alice’s as well) before they finally—finally—had the evidence to pin both murders on Gold.

Tracking him down was another thing altogether, but they finally caught up with him in his penthouse apartment. To no one’s surprise, he didn’t go willingly; a fistfight broke out between he and Killian. 

She was scared she’d have to intervene, knowing how personal it was. By the end of it, Killian had a black eye and a bloody lip, but Gold was in handcuffs, tossed unceremoniously in the back of a squad car. 

Killian watched the vehicle pull away, then turned to Emma, and wrapped his arms around her in a bruising hug. 

In any other situation, she would have gone stiff with shock, but she didn’t hesitate to lean right into him. Her desire to comfort him after that was just as strong as his need for comfort. 

But then he pulled back, cupped her cheek, and pressed his lips to hers. 

That did take her by surprise. 

But she was equally quick to reciprocate. 

Just as fast, it was over and he was walking away, leaving her utterly confused. Logically, she knew it was probably just an emotional reaction—a one-time thing. 

However: he kissed her like he meant it. She was familiar with empty kisses and single-night flings—and that...was a whole lot more. 

And she couldn’t deny it any longer: she wanted that more. 

She arrived at the precinct early the next morning, hoping to beat him there so they could talk about whatever that had been. She’d even gotten up an hour before she usually did so she could get them good coffee. But he was already there, filling out forms at his desk. 

“Hey,” she said, suddenly feeling incredibly awkward as she put the cup on his desk. “You taking care of the reports?”

“Um, yeah,” he stammered, pointedly focusing on the paperwork and not her. 

She glanced down at the desk, and that wasn’t a report—that was a transfer form. “You want to leave?” she whispered, the familiar pain of betrayal washing over her. He didn’t want to be her partner anymore? 

“Emma, I can’t stay here,” he said, only somewhat apologetic. (Also, though she didn’t realize it at the moment, it was the first time he’d used her given name.) “After this last case...it just wouldn’t be good form.”

“Fuck your good form, Jones!” she cried. “How can you say that, after everything these past few months? After last night?”

Calmly, he stood up and moved into her space. “I can’t be your partner any more, Emma,” he said, reaching up to brush her hair behind her ear. “Because I want to be more than that. And last I checked, Captain Mills frowned upon inter-unit relations.”

That was true; she really did, more than most. But then the reality of what Killian was saying hit: “You...you’d give up your position for me?”

“Aye,” he answered, simply, like it wasn’t the heaviest thing anyone had ever told her. 

What else was she supposed to do after a confession like that but kiss him? She rose up on her toes, gripped the lapels of his waistcoat, and found his lips with hers. He didn’t hesitate to pull her close and she was exceedingly glad no one else was in the squad room, because she’d never quite been kissed so closely to within an inch of her life as she’d been then.

(Also, it was a good thing no one was around when he pushed her onto his desk to deepen it further. If Captain Mills later noticed the forms were a bit crumpled, she didn’t say anything.) 

Killian ended up transferring back to his old precinct, old job. It turned out they missed him. Emma knew exactly why; her next partner, David, was great, but no match. 

Good thing she got to go home to Killian—and Alice—every night. 

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

thanks for reading, and send B all the birthday love! tagging some others:

@kat2609​ @thesschesthair​  @xpumpkindumplingx​ t @cocohook38​ @annytecture​ @shireness-says​ @ohmightydevviepuu​ @profdanglaisstuff​ @wingedlioness​ @word-bug​ @thisonesatellite​ @distant-rose​ @wellhellotragic​ @welllpthisishappening​ @let-it-raines​ @pirateherokillian​ @its-imperator-furiosa​ @fergus80​ @thejollyroger-writer​ @ineffablecolors​ @laschatzi​ @ive-always-been-a-pirate​  @stubblesandwich​​ @phiralovesloki​ @athenascarlet​ @kmomof4​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @snowbellewells​ @idristardis​ @scientificapricot​ @searchingwardrobes​ @donteattheappleshook​

[lunacyxxx]

Your shoes hit the concrete of the sidewalk as you ran trying to ignore the numerous shouts behind you, the sound of your beating heart echoed in your ears as well. Your mind was racing, you were caught in the wrong place at the wrong time while walking home from your last class, your curiosity got the best of you when you stumbled upon a drug deal going wrong.

You knew and heard rumors about the mafia being in town, but you didn’t think they’d be this close to your neighbourhood. Turning down an alley, you pushed your body to keep going; tears pricked in your eyes and you wiped them away when you saw the street your house was on come into view. Your rejoice was cut short when a sleek black car skidded to a stop in front of you swinging the door open, before you could stop you skidded into a pair of heavily tattooed arms that wrestled you into the backseat of the vehicle.

A cloth was pressed to your nose and you ended up inhaling the bizarre sweet scent that came from it, black dots claimed your vision while a male with black hair and blue eyes smirked down at you.

You woke up with a gasp as cold water was dumped over your body, you cough and struggle slightly to wipe your face only to find your arms tied behind you. You were on your knees and you could feel ropes digging into the skin of your legs, your limbs were bound making your calves press against your thighs. Someone clears their throat and you finally look up to a white haired male with red eyes, behind him were two other people as well.

You could recognize the tattooed dude who dragged you into the car and knocked you out with the chloroform drenched rag, there’s a blonde that’s smirking at you standing next to the black haired man. An audible gulp escapes your mouth once the guy who seems to be the leader starts to speak.

“I’m gonna just cut to the chase here you dumb girl, first of all how much did you see and hear,” the lanky male circled around your form and you nervously lick your lips before answering with a shaky voice. “I only saw when the money and stuff was being exchanged, and when someone pointed out that the money was counterfeit, I turned to leave when things got serious and one of the guys saw me and that’s when they started chasing me.”

“I was surprised at your speed though Babybird, you almost got away from me,” your eyes trail to meet golden ones. You couldn’t tell if the marks by his eyes were makeup or birthmarks, something glints in his hand and you’re shivering now. “I wasn’t done speaking Hawks,” Shigaraki crouched down in front of you and took your chin in his hold.

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t put a bullet in this pretty little head of yours.”

Your breath hitches and you look between the three males, it finally clicked in your mind that you were dealing with the mafia and you swore they could possibly hear your heartbeat too. “Awe c’mon Shigs, she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. She seems like a really good girl too, she hasn’t put up a fight or anything either. What’s your name, even though I’m still gonna call you Songbird or Babybird.”

“Its Y/n,” Keigo nods and a ring cuts through the silence. It’s the personal ringtone you have set for Katsuki, you and him were best friends. He had ‘practice’ today so he wasn’t able to walk you home today, “Katsuki? Ah, I’ve heard about that kid. He’s a really good student with a shitty personality though. And he’s involved with Deku’s gang.”

You honestly forgot Shigaraki and Dabi were in the room until the white haired male spoke, “Do what you need to do then get her cleaned up before she gets a fever. I don’t need a cold floating around here,” you heard the door close leaving both you and Hawks alone.

Katsuki never told you he was participating in the mafia.

“Let’s answer this phone call shall we?”

“Wait! Please don’t,” Hawks ignores you and he props the phone up before answering the video call and walking back in front of you.

“Hey Shitty Girl, you didn’t call when you got home so I- what the fuck?”

The blonde’s red eyes were wide as he took in the sight of you bound on your knees, he felt awful for getting slightly aroused.

Hawks brought up a chair behind you and sat down pulling you back to lean against his form, fingers decorated with a few rings circled around your throat. The cold barrel of the gun lightly taps the edge of your jaw making you flinch and lean away, “How bout we play a game? Let’s meet up, but you have a few things to tell me first before you get your precious girl-.”

“Listen you cockatoo reject, Y/n has nothing to do with anything that fucking happens between our group and yours so let her go.”

A short scream escapes your mouth when the ceiling is shot, “I wasn’t finished you explosive brat.” Hawks’ grip tightened on your neck as he placed the hot barrel against your inner thigh making you cry out and squirm. “Everytime you cuss and or interrupt me, this cutie right here gets burned. Be mindful of what you do or say because I don’t plan on wasting the last bullet.”

Your breath comes out in short pants and Keigo releases the hold on your neck to take a hold of your jaw making you face Katsuki, you plead with your eyes towards your friend who grits his teeth. “What the f-what do you want from me?”

“First of all, a shame you kept this cutie hidden away. I guess you just wanted to be a good friend and keep her safe, you calling just made things a lot easier though.” Katsuki sucked his teeth and crossed his arms, “We’re gonna meet up and you’ll give me all of your gang’s current plans. If I find out or suspect you’re lying, this cutie right here is gonna suffer the consequences of your actions. I’ll be sending you the address shortly.”

“You bastard, I’d rather fucking die than give up that damn nerd Deku,” Katsuki immediately regretted his words when another gunshot rang out and your scream echoed through the speakers on his end. The tip of the gun was pressed up higher on your inner thigh then Keigo shot the ceiling for a third time and dragged the barrel of the gun from your hip up making your shirt ride up.

You were panting and whimpering, your body shivering from the cool air, Keigo let out a small groan. “I wonder what other sounds you can make Babybird. We can possibly find out now maybe?” A look was in Keigo’s and Katsuki hated it, the younger blond gnawed at his lip, mixed emotions were flowing around his mind. Katsuki was possibly just as guilty as the other male, the sight of you bound, water dripping off your body excited him.

The way your chest heaves with every breath you take, “Like I said. I’ll send you the address and you better be on your way as soon as you get the text.” Before Bakugo could speak, Hawks reached over and hung up the phone. His golden eyes landed on you, “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You could feel the ropes coming undone and you rubbed your arms then legs to get the blood flowing through them.

“You’re not gonna hurt him are you?”

“That all depends on how he decides to approach this whole situation, truth be told you should worry about yourself.” Hawks had a sly smile on his face before he picked you up leading you through the same doors Dabi and Tomura used. You were led through what seemed like a maze of halls before Keigo stopped at a door, “This is my room. There’s a bathroom in there for you to use and we can just grab something of mine for you to wear, after that we’re gonna meet your friend so don’t take too long or try anything.”

You nodded and he unlocked the door ushering you in before coming in and pointing to the bathroom, your feet lead you to the door before opening it.

The bathroom was simple, a bit larger than the one at your home but you knew this was the base of their operations so there was no need for extravagant spaces here. Keigo taps your shoulder and you jump lightly, folded up in his hands is a pair of sweats and a shirt. You thank him softly and take the clothing before closing the door, after about twenty minutes you were done and you come out seeing your captor laid out on his bed texting away.

“Alright let’s get this show on the road,” he smiles at you but your gut tells you something more is gonna happen. He takes you by your wrist and leaves with you trailing behind him, “You don’t have to be so scared Babybird. I don’t think I have it in me to actually hurt that pretty little face of yours unless you’re into stuff like that. I don’t kink shame.”

You sputter softly and your cheeks redden brightly, Hawks laughs shaking his head and soon you’re being pushed into yet another car; Keigo slides in beside you resting his hand on your thigh.

Katsuki doesn’t tell anyone about the ordeal that he’s in, he knew that if he did Deku would want to wait it out and make some dumbass plan. Katsuki was always protective of you, seeing you bound like that in front of the other blond made him upset yet turned on. He watched his phone until it lit up with the text containing the address, Bakugo was already pacing in front of his door beforehand.

Exiting his home, he plugged the address into his maps and saw that it was only a fifteen minute walk. He made sure that the hood of his jacket was up to stop anyone he knew from recognizing him being out this late.

Katsuki stood in front of what seemed to be a penthouse and snorted before ringing the buzzer to be let in.

Hawks gave you your phone to unlock it before snatching it back out of your hands to text Katsuki as soon as the two of you made it to his place. He ushered you inside and told you to sit on the couch, “What did you mean when you said I had to worry more about myself earlier?”

“Ah that’s still on your mind? Well maybe I could just show you,” he stalked towards you and placed his hands onto the back of the couch beside your head. You audibly gulped as your eyes gazed into his own golden ones, “Your friend isn’t exactly who he seems. I know he never told you about his gang affiliation but I’m sure he’s never told you about how he’s also a double agent.”

You blink owlishly opening your mouth to ask what he meant until there was a buzzing sound, “He’s here already.” Keigo strolled to the front door pressing a button, his hand looked around your bicep when he walked back urging you to follow him to his room. A startled yelp leaves your mouth when he tosses you on the bed telling you to stay put, Hawks leaves the room and you keep quiet.

The door opens and you could hear an exchange of words, both of their voices mingling a bit before there’s a shared laugh. Your heart speeds up as they enter the room, Katsuki smiles at you and the whole situation becomes even more confusing.

--

Your breath came out in short pants, your legs were shaking and you were trying your best to wrestle your hands from the iron grip that pressed them to the comforter. Red eyes stare down at your teary e/c ones, “P-Please. I-I can’t..let me c-cum please!”

Keigo gave a hard lick against your clit while slipping his soaked fingers from your aching pussy, “Oh come on Babybird. You can hold out just a bit longer can’t you?” Katsuki leaned down to press an upside down kiss to your lip, “Yeah Teddybear. If I knew you were such a fucking slut, I would have snatched you up before this birdbrain right here did.”

“Don’t think I didn’t notice the way you were trying to hide your boner through that video call Sparky. You should be fucking thanking me that you’re here with me, I didn’t have to send the address and shit.”

A squeak leaves your mouth when Keigo leans back down taking your clit back into his mouth while reinserting his fingers back into your quivering cunt. Bakugo’s insults are ignored as Hawks noisily (and sloppily) eats you out like he’s been starved. Your thighs are quaking and the gold eyed male huffs sitting up, “Grab her thighs.”

“W-wait I-“ you’re suddenly sitting upright but Katsuki has you in a full nelson position leaving you completely exposed to Hawks. Your head knocks back against Bakugo’s shoulder and he places kisses along your neck. “Look at you all spread out like this. You love the fucking attention don’t you? Being fucking dominated by two guys that could do literally anything they want to you.”

You were babbling softly as your hips twitch, Bakugo’s words and Hawks’ mouth turned your brain to mush. You slick walls were clinging to Keigo’s fingers as he hooked them upwards making you scream.

Keigo let your clit go with with a loud wet smack before bringing his face towards yours while finger fucking you.

“There we fucking go, you ready to cum? Yeah? You wanna cum after we took turns edging you over and over again, go ahead and cum so we can fuck your brains out.”

Your eyes squeeze shut and white flashes behind your lids as a shaky keen erupts from your throat as you finally cum. Your essence gushes out soaking his fingers and the covers below, “Holy shit Teddybear. To think you were a fucking squirter.” Katsuki kisses your temple and lets your quivering legs down while Hawks licks his fingers.

The both of them give you about a minutes to come down from your high before Bakugo pulls you into his lap, you look down gulping seeing that he’s already naked. His cock pressed against your puffy lower lips before his hot hands gripped your waist, he soon began rutting against you making your juices coat his cock.

“You’re gonna sing me a song right Songbird? Let everyone know, especially the one behind you know who this pussy belongs to?” You look up through your lashes at the older blond smirking down at you, “Shut the fuck up you damn Tweetybird. My Teddybear knows who she really belongs to, you don’t know her like I fucking do.”

You’re snatched up from Bakugo who growls and Keigo holds you up hovering your dripping folds over the head of his leaking cock. “Let’s see who can make her cum the most amount of times then we’ll decide who gets her.”

They were talking and snapping at each other as if you weren’t right here dangling over a cock. Your hands place themselves on Hawks chest, during their banter you were able to somewhat calm down to think again.

“Ah you’re back with us finally Babybird?”

You give a soft nod and swallow hard, you adjust yourself so you’re properly straddling him hissing softly when the tip of his member grazes your clit. Warmth covers your back as Katsuki leans over you to kiss your cheek.

“I’m tired of having your fucking back to me.”

Your world spins and now your back is pressed to Hawks’ chest, you gaze up into red irises as Bakugo claims your mouth in a heated kiss. Hawks rolls his eyes and gropes at your breasts playing with your budding peaks, you feel a prod at your back entrance making you jolt slightly.

“Sorry Kid, I should have warned you but I’m dying to get inside of you. Just relax for me okay,” Katsuki breaks the kiss and pulls away to spit on your pussy and watch his saliva flow down to the puckered ring of muscle.

“K-Katsuki,” you were shocked at the display. You and Keigo both knew you were already wet down there anyway, “You sly bastard. Just know I’m still gonna make her scream my name more than yours.”

Hawks gripped one of your thighs while his other hand took his cock guiding it to press at your hole again. “Relax and be a good girl for me yeah?” You nod and glance at the other occupant in the room who’s stroking his cock at the sight of you spread out like this. You and Hawks sigh out in unison when he finally slips inside of you, “Ohhh fuck.”

Keigo’s voice drops an octave or two while he slowly pushes his member deeper into your gummy walls, “You’re so fucking tight. Fucking hell.”

You were panting and trying not to squirm too much until you could feel his hips flush against yours.

“Fucking finally you damn extra.”

Katsuki was back over you, his cock lightly tapping at your pussy before it slips inside of you. Both men hiss at the way you squeeze their cocks, the three of you lay there panting.

Your hips soon begin to wiggle, the stinging melting into pleasure. “Someone’s a little eager. Ready for us to fuck you, pump you full of our cum Babybird? Ready to show this amateur who you belong to?”

Katsuki suddenly delivers a sharp thrust making you and Hawks yelp, “You talk too fucking much.” Katsuki sets the pace and Hawks soon followed, they’re moving in sync so that when one of them is pulling out the other is pushing in.

The room is filled with a chorus of moans, filthy promises and skin hitting skin. Your hands are scrambling to find purchase on either of the guys as you could already feel your orgasm approaching, “I’m gonna-I’m gonna c-cum!”

Katsuki’s hand flew down and his fingers started rubbing your clit making you arch your back, you were about to cry out his name until Hawks shoved his middle and ring finger into your mouth making you gag. Katsuki clicked his tongue, “That’s fucking cheating.”

“And you stroking her clit right as she’s about to cum isn’t,” Hawks sasses back. The both of them are too involved with their bickering to notice you cumming until you went limp in their hold weakly pushing on them.

Your muffled plea for them to slow them was ignored as Hawks picked up the pace, “We’re gonna have to redo that one Babybird.” Katsuki nodded as his hand left your clit to wrap around your throat, your eyes struggled to stay open as they both wrecked your body overstimulating you until you ended up squirting again.

You could feel the throbs if their cocks as they too began to reach their climaxes, their dirty talking to you (and maybe some to each other) was drowned out by the overload of pleasure.

With a final thrust, they both cussed and groaned as they filled you up with their seed.

The three of you lay there trying to catch your breaths, your eyes widen slightly when you feel Keigo twitch inside of you. “You tired already Blasty? I bet I can last more rounds than you ever could.”

Bakugo clicked his tongue and gave an experimental thrust while his teeth dug into his lower lip, “Shut the fuck up.” Hawks rolled his eyes and shifted, “I wanna fuck her pussy next so move.” Katsuki gets up slowly slipping out of you and he watches his cum drop out of your pussy, “You look so good with my cum dripping out of you Princess.”

Your meek voice doesn’t seem to reach them as Keigo sits up with his member still inside of you. His right hand wraps around your throat while the other grabs your hip, “I’m gonna fuck you while you clean him up. How does that sound, Babybird?”

You nod and the younger blond cups your cheeks as he kisses you, a moan comes from you as the other male in the room grunts. You feel the blunt head of his cock pressing at your pussy until he slips in, Keigo had a slightly larger girth than Bakugo but he filled you up so well.

Leaning down after breaking the kiss with Katsuki, you wrapped your hand around his cock and took his tip into your mouth. His warm hand made homage on the back of your head while he let out a guttural growl, his hips began bucking slightly making you take more of his length.

Hawks cooed at you and told you how much of a good girl you were being for taking them both like his. “You love having your holes fucked and stretched like this huh? You like the idea of both of us filling you up with our cum, who knew such a cutie like you would be a cumslut.”

Bakugo would never admit it to anyone, not even himself but the way Keigo spoke to you combined with your glossy eyes gazing up to him drove him wild. He didn’t expect to cum again so quickly, Keigo massaged you’re throat making sure you swallowed all of the other male’s seed before sitting back on his knees with your body to his absolutely pounding into you.

You cry out when Hawks spanks your thigh, “Look at your best friend. He’s such a pervert for watching you being fucked like this, I’m pretty sure he’d love it even if Dabi were here. Hell maybe even my boss, we’d pass you around and take turns filling you up and fucking you until you can’t remember your own name. But you’d damn well remember ours, you like the sound of that? Your pussy clenched down on me, you gonna cum again huh? Don’t fucking close your eyes and let him see you cum all over this dick.”

You were reduced back to stutters and soft babbles as you weakly reached towards Katsuki who interlocked your fingers together and grabbed your chin. His tongue collected the drool coming from the corner of your mouth before he slips his thumb between your lips and spits in your mouth again.

“Don’t fucking swallow,” Hawks turns your towards him and does the same thing. You couldn’t stop yourself from swallowing before a choked up sob exits your throat as white flashes behind your eyelids. Your legs are practically vibrating now and you slump completely against Katsuki when Hawks lets you go to grab your hips. Feral growls come from the man behind you as he reaches his peak yet again making sure his hips and as close as they can be against yours.

“Y/n you swallowed when I told you not to,” Bakugo grumbles wiping your tears with his thumbs. Hawks pulls out of you and you fall into Katsuki’s arms, your mind was fuzzy and you could only murmur softly as you came down from your high. Keigo rubs your back and kisses your shoulder, “Maybe sharing with this pipsqueak won’t be so bad.”

“Tch, shut the hell up you damn flamingo.”

[ahsbitch]

Something Strange In The Air (Part 2)

Word Count: 2544

Summary: In the aftermath of your...incident with Michael, you’re still tumbling to figure out what you’re doing. 

Warnings: It’s probably bad idk, oral (male receiving), face fucking, degradation, Mean!Michael & Being Mean To Michael, blue balls, waxing poetic, lots of cursing (as always), idk i can’t think of any others 

A/N: Sorry this is really short and sorry it took so long I’m in college so I’ve been busy and I was writing a oneshot for a different fandom which took some time, the next chapter will have more plot to it and stuff I promise, my apologies for shitty writing and being a super slow writer, I’m doing my best I promise. As always, comments (even just in the tags) are always ultra appreciated!!!!!

Mini Tags: @wroteclassicaly @1-666-coven @michaellangdonstanaccount uhhh there are others but i can’t remember if i forgot to tag you i’m sorry pls remind me 

ALSO I PUT IN THE KEEP READING THING BUT IT REFUSES TO WORK SO SORRY ABOUT THAT

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was poetry flashing through your mind.

Some say the world will end in fire

Bits and pieces. 

Death, be not proud

You couldn’t get him off your mind. 

Doing a man’s work, though a child at heart 

Couldn’t get your dream off your mind. 

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams 

The way he had looked at you, in it, how he had held your hand.

He kindly stopped for me-

Michael often called you little witch,

Leave my loneliness unbroken 

But he had never called you his little witch, as he had in the dream. 

There will be time to murder and create

He was beautiful, almost angelic in appearance, you had to admit.

From what I’ve tasted of desire

And he pulled you in, in spite of how hard you tried to ignore it

I can no longer remain away from you

It was almost disgusting, how much you thought about him. 

Curse, bless, me now with your tears, I pray

There was something about him that frightened you.

One short sleep past, we wake eternally

A lot about him that frightened you, actually. 

A waking on a morn

“Y/N,” Cordelia spoke, and you could tell from her tone that this wasn’t the first time she’d said your name, “Are you with me?” 

Shit, you’d gotten distracted. 

You’d been called to a meeting in Cordelia’s office, made it to one of the chairs, and immediately spaced out. 

You hadn’t really seen Michael in almost a week, nothing more than passing glimpses in the halls and quick pulses of his energy in the air. You’d been avoiding him. Or maybe he’d been avoiding you. Honestly, you couldn’t remember. You hadn’t spent a single night in your bedroom, instead floating around to parties and going to the swamps to practice your magic rather than spend time in the study room. 

Fuck, things were getting complicated.

“I’m with you,” You smiled cautiously at her, “I’m sorry.” 

She smiled back, something you couldn’t quite determine just behind her eyes. Concern, of course, her whole aura was clearly very concerned, but something else, and then she was speaking, her voice as calm as ever, “Don’t be sorry. Are you feeling okay?” 

Of course not.

“Of course I am!” 

“Try again,” Her hands were folded neatly on her desk, and you dropped your gaze to look at them, Cordelia’s words making you feel a strange sense of shame, “I’m a little worried about you, Y/N.” 

Your ears were burning, your heart jumping wildly in your chest, “I’m sorry.” 

She sighed, shaking her head, “Don’t be sorry. Just... what’s going on with you? What’s going on between you and Michael Langdon?”

Shit.

“What do you mean?”

“You haven’t been sleeping in your room, or studying in the house,” Cordelia looked at you strangely, and you held your breath, “Have you still been fighting?”

She didn’t know.

Thank fuck. 

“Yes,” You responded, perhaps a little too quickly, “Yes, we have. We just can’t seem to agree on anything.”

Not entirely untrue.

She nodded sympathetically, and you were relieved to feel that she believed that was it, “I’m sorry. I feared something like this might happen. But Y/N, you need to return to your room.You can’t be out every night, and you can’t do all of your studying in the swamps. You’re still a student here. You have to be present, at least sometimes.”

“Okay,” Nodding, you worked on getting your breathing fully back to normal, “I’ll be back in my room tonight.” 

“Good,” Cordelia reached out and squeezed your hand gently, “I’m proud of you, Y/N. You are a powerful witch, and a good woman. I believe in you.” 

Not able to make yourself respond, you simply flashed her a smile and bolted for the door, blinking back tears.

Fuck, she’d bee so disappointed if she knew the truth. 

You were barely out of the office when the door to a closet opened and someone tugged you inside, slamming it shut. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What the fuck, Michael?” You snapped, blinking into the darkness. 

Michael’s hand clamped over your mouth as he let out a growl, “Be quiet, little witch.” 

You worked your mouth until you managed to clamp your teeth onto the skin of his palm, biting as hard as you could. 

“Fuck,” He hissed, jerking away from you, “That hurt!”

“Good,” Glaring, you reached for the cord on the light and tugged on it, the weak bulb flickering overhead, “What the fuck?”

Glowering at you in the dim light, Michael crossed his arms, “What did Cordelia want?”

“None of your business.”

“I’m pretty sure it is,” Shaking his head, he scoffed at you, “It was about me, wasn’t it? Does she know?” 

It was childish to play dumb, and you knew that, but you were doing it anyway, “Does she know what? Why would we want to talk about you?” 

It took only a single step for Michael to back you against the wall, pinning you there with his hips, "Don’t even bother with that shit. Answer the fucking question.” 

You shoved at his chest, although even you had to admit that it was a halfhearted push. His proximity, especially after so long away from him, was overwhelming, and you felt your mind slipping to a place you didn’t want it to be, “Get the fuck away from me, asshole.” 

Another shove, and he wrapped his hands around your wrists, holding them over your head, “You weren’t asking me to do that last time we saw each other, were you, little witch? Now. Does Cordelia know?” 

“No,” Growling, you tried in vain to pull your hands back, “We talked about you, but she doesn’t know about that. Now let me go.” 

Tilting his head to the side, Michael laughed at you, “How many times do I have to tell you? You’re not the one in charge here.”

“Fuck you,” You spat, beginning to shake with something between fury and a feeling that you didn’t quite want to acknowledge.

“This is a pretty color,” Michael shifted both of your wrists to one hand and brought the other down to trail across your lips, tapping at the soft flesh, smudging a bit of the golden sheen, “Did you put this on for me?” 

Ever since that day in the study room, not that day but the one before, you had taken to wearing more and more lipstick, coating your lips in a new color everyday. 

Today was gold, one that shimmered when the light hit it, and if you were honest, yes, you did put it on for Michael. Every time you reapplied a coat of lipstick, today and every other, he flashed through your mind, the sneer on his features, the echo of his words in your ear when his fingers were down your throat. 

“You look good like this...Gagging...You wear revealing clothes and you act like you’re doing it for yourself...But really you’re just a dumb, depraved, desperate little whore who wants nothing more than to be dicked down by your rival.” 

Fuck, just thinking about it sent a wave of wetness gushing through you, and you tensed your legs in an effort to ignore it, and the smirk on Michael’s face told you that he had noticed. 

Yes, you were wearing it for him. 

“No,” You had to crane your head to glare at him with how close he was, “I don’t know if this is the first time you’re hearing this, but not everything is about you, Boy Wonder.” 

He hummed, drawing his fingers along your cheekbone, and you cursed yourself for the way you leaned into the contact ever so subtly. After a moment he pressed his lips against yours, and although you fought to keep yourself in control, to keep from kissing him back, cursing yourself once again when you couldn’t hold yourself back, your noses smashing against one another, your mouth slipping open with a groan, quickly intruded upon by Michael’s tongue, which battled fiercely with yours. 

And then suddenly he pulled away from you and stepped back, and you fell to your knees as he chuckled, his hands unbuckling his belt, “All the same, little bitch, I think that color would look wonderful smeared all over my cock, don’t you?” 

“I fucking hate you,” You glared up at him through your eyelashes as one of his hands gripped your hair, the other pulling his dick out of the confines of his slacks. 

“That just makes this all the more pathetic, doesn’t it?” He slapped your cheek with his dick gently, and it wasn’t lost on you how perfect it was, the size and the ridging and and the pulsing veins and the furious pink of the tip all making your mouth water, “Get up and walk away if you want, little witch bitch. But I don’t think you will. I think you want this. I think that being a little whore is the calling you’re pulled to most.” 

Get up and walk away.

You could do that. 

He pulled his hand from your hair, letting your head drop back, and you knew that if you moved to stand he would release you, would let you go. His precum had leaked onto your face as he continued to hit your cheeks, waiting to see what you would do. 

Just get up and walk away. 

But you couldn’t, couldn’t bring yourself to walk away without having the chance to taste him, not when the very thought was sending arousal roaring through you, and while you wished you could directly blame this on Michael, could say that his magic was holding you in place, that simply wasn’t it. 

You opened your mouth as wide as you could and in an instant his cock was down your throat, Michael setting off to fuck your face at an intense pace. 

Gagging, you brought your hands up to his thighs, and when your nails scratched against his legs through the fabric or his dress pants Michael let out a high, desperate groan. 

Although you couldn’t quite smile at that, with how full your mouth was, there was a little voice gloating in the back of your head, and you squeezed his thigh tightly, drinking down his moans as you moved until his own back had hit the wall, his hands desperately moving from your hair to your shoulders to simply slamming down on either side of his body. 

“Your mouth is good for something, I guess,” Michael grunted, as though he wasn’t as desperate for you as you had been for him a week ago, “You’re much prettier when you’re not talking, did you know that?” 

You managed to flick back your middle finger enough to flip him off, although you didn’t pull back to make a verbal response. There was something urgent about this, and the idea of dropping him from your mouth seemed too great a sacrifice to make, when the harmony of Michael’s shockingly soft, animalistic moans mixed with the lewd, wet noises of his dick hitting the back of your throat was so disgustingly lovely. 

Michael’s hands twitched, as though he was going to grab at your hair again, and at that moment he seemed to finally notice your own magic in the air, holding his wrists in place.

“You little bitch,” He snarled, straining against the magic, but all he could do was buck his hips into your mouth even harder, letting out a hiss as your teeth grazed him, as your tongue swirled around his head, “Let me go.” 

But where’s the fun in that? 

You didn’t let him go, and you didn’t stop. If anything, you grew more intense, your hands managing all over him, sneaking past the fabric of his clothes to leave angry scratches on his skin, so smooth underneath your touch. Eventually one of them trailed to his balls, tugging and toying with them roughly as he began to strain even harder, began to make a choked noise at the back of his throat that made your thighs clench, and you knew he was going to cum soon. 

You pulled your mouth off of him. 

He looked down at you with a raised eyebrow, panting, desperate, watching as you trailed your tongue over every inch of his dick, pulling his balls into your mouth and sucking them slowly, and finally you pressed a kiss to the skin just above his cock and leaned back with a grin.

“What the fuck,” Michael growled, although his face showed a kind of manic desperation that he clearly wasn’t used to, “Get back to it!”

“No, I don’t think I will,” Your smile got even wider, although your mouth was sore and your voice scratchy, you decided it was worth it, “You call me a little bitch all the time, but who’s the bitch now, Boy Wonder?” 

“Y/N, I’m serious. I will ruin you,” Snarling in spite of the pained expression starting to grow on his face, he thrusted against you, and you let out a giggle at that. 

“It’s so cute that you say that while you’re humping my leg like an unfixed puppy,” Shaking your head, you took a step back, out of the range of his hips, and looked down to admire his flushed, throbbing dick, “You were right, y’know. The gold does look good on there .Especially the contrast it has with the blue of your balls.”

He looked down to see that your words were true, the skin becoming overtaken with a pale, bruise like color, and when Michael looked back up at you there was something murderous in his eyes, “Quit fucking around. Let me go, and finish.” 

“Why should I?”

Arms straining against their magical containment, face twisting with the growing pain in his balls, Michael’s voice had grown croaky, “Do it. I will never touch you again, if you walk away from this, do you get that you desperate little whore? You want me. You need me. Do what I fucking tell you.” 

“I think there’s been a serious misunderstanding here, Langdon. I don’t need anything from you. You keep saying you’re the one in charge, but look at you. You’re nothing but a little blonde bimbo. So fuck you,” You scoffed, trailing a single hand across his chest and giving his nipple a harsh pinch, letting out a laugh at his angered whine, “And by the way, Cordelia says I have to move back into our room. I’ll be back tonight. I’ll see you whenever you get around to being the powerful warlock everyone thinks you are and break through my magic.”

With that, you pressed a quick, chaste kiss to the corner of his lip and turned away, not bothering to fix your own appearance before you went out, turning the light off before you closed Michael in the closet. 

You were proud of yourself, you had to admit. 

Scared, perhaps, of what he might do, and curious as to whether or not he’d keep the promise that he’d never touch you again-not that you wanted him to, of course, you were just curious-but you were proud all the same. 

Fucking Michael Langdon. 

[imanativeofswlondondahling]

Peter Luck

Word Count: 2096

Warnings: Dealing with Endgame so spoilers for that

Author Note: Wrote this for my class so hence why there’s not relationship and also why I stayed with what actually happened in Endgame lol 

There isn’t much in this world that Peter Parker feels he deserves. Especially after everything his Peter Luck causes. His parents, Uncle Ben, Tony, people just don’t stay when they’re around Peter for too long. So when Pepper keeps reaching out asking for him to come and get to know his “little sister”, he pushes her away. Morgan is all that is left of Tony Stark and Peter won’t let Peter Luck get to her too. 

 Peter has only met Morgan once, at the funeral. Her face is an even split of Pepper and Tony. He was also pretty sure she mentioned something about cheeseburgers, which would definitely have made Tony proud. Pepper tried to catch Peter after the ceremony, but Peter had slipped away. The Avengers, Pepper, Morgan, they don’t need his luck.

 “Utilizing the help I’ve fallen and can’t get up protocol.” Karen says as he slips into the tower’s window.

 “Not necessary Karen. I’m fine.”

 “If you were fine, you wouldn’t be sneaking into the tower at two in the morning.” Pepper’s voice cuts through the air.

 “I am fine. I’m not sneaking.” Peter counters her accusations as he grasps at his side. “What-what-what are you doing here?”

 “Had a meeting in the city late. Decided to stay at the tower and drive home in the morning.” Bare feet pad across the floor and reach out towards the skin visible from where the wires had cut through his suit. “What happened?”

 “Nothing too massive. Just didn’t see something.”

 “Cut the crap Peter and tell me what happened.” He had heard her be short with Tony before but not with him.

 “I swung into some telephone wires. It’s happened before. I’ll be healed by morning.”

 “Well, as long as you’ll be ok.” She looks at him up and down, and he’s glad he still has his mask on so she can’t see how much he doesn’t want to look her in the face. How much he wants to escape so she’s not around his luck. “So you wanna talk about the rest of it?”

 “The rest of it?” Peter’s not sure what she means.

 “The avoidance. The hiding. The not taking your mask off.” Pepper pauses, drawing a hand through her hair. “Me finding out you were hurt from Karen.”

 “Karen alerted you?”

 “Tony set Karen to alert three people if you were hurt and he wasn’t around.” Pepper explains as if this isn’t news to her. “Happy, Rhodey, and…” Pepper trails off.

 “But you have your own life to deal with?”

 “And you’re a kid. You shouldn’t have to be dealing with saving the world or even just Queens.” Peter hits the release to take his mask off.

 “I’m seventeen. I’m almost an adult.”

 “Is that why you’re pushing everyone away?”

 “I’m not pushing anyone away.” Pepper sees the anger on Peter’s face, but she’s pretty sure it’s from being called out.

 “All of the Avengers haven’t seen you since the funeral. You won’t see Morgan, even though she’s dying to meet her big brother-”

 “I’m not her big brother.”

 “Saying it doesn’t make it true.”

 “Tell yourself that.” Peter crosses his arms and lets a hiss of air out when the skin around his laceration pulls.

 “I would, but I was there when Tony and I found out we were pregnant. Tony sat right next to me, promising my stomach that he was going to find a way to bring ‘your big brother Peter’ home. You’re her big brother Peter, you’ve always been her big brother, it’s what Tony wanted. That’s why he did everything, why he perfected time travel, why your picture with him sits in our kitchen just like Morgan’s does. You’re our kid.”

 “No I’m just some orphan from Queen’s who’s bad luck is going to get you and your kid killed.” Peter slams his mask back on as he runs out of the apartment.

 He shouldn’t have run. Or maybe he shouldn’t have said what he did. That’s just more of a chance to get them killed. But maybe because he voiced it, they’ll actually stay away.

“Peter, we have visitors.” May calls from the living room a few days after the talk Pepper and him had in the tower. To his knowledge, they weren’t expecting someone, but it would be rude not to come out. However, once he sees the familiar strawberry blonde sitting on the couch, he wishes he had ignored May.

 “You didn’t say you were coming over?” Peter questions from across the living room.

  The five year old spoke before Pepper had a chance too. “You’re being a bad brother.” Morgan’s face shows her anger like Tony’s used to.

 “I am?” Morgan nods as if this is something that Peter should already know. “Why’s that?”

 “You’ve only been over once and that wasn’t even to play.”

 “I’m sorry?”

 “You should be.”

 “Morgan.” Pepper chides from the other side of the couch, but Peter can see the small smile on her face.

 “Charlie’s brother came back from being blipped and all they’ve been doing since he got back is playing. Why doesn’t my brother want to play with me?” Peter hadn’t thought about how it would affect Morgan. He was just trying to keep her safe.

 “I’ve had school and homework and stuff.”

 “Do you have school today?”

 “No.”

 “Do you have homework?”

 “Yeah but it’s not due today.”

 “So then can you come play?” Pepper was hoping this plan would work. She had a feeling that once the two of them met, they would be the best of friends. But Peter had been so insistent on staying away, which she would try to talk to him about later. Especially after what he had said the other day.

 “I guess I could come play. What do you like to play?” Peter didn’t honestly know that much about Morgan, besides that she was Pepper and Tony’s child. But knowing that, he could assume that she was smart and probably interested in a lot of things.

 “Everything!” Morgan throws her arms up like she can’t contain her excitement. “I have a fort and stuffed animals. Barbies and action figures. Craft kits and science experiments.”

 “She really does like everything.” Pepper says softly. 

 “Well I like everything too. I bet we could have tons of fun together.” 

 “Yay!” Morgan throws herself across the room to hug Peter. He’s surprised to feel the small, warm body. Her hug though, felt entirely like Tony. And in that moment, Peter almost broke. He almost turned around and left the room, pulling himself away from the only piece of Tony left. But there’s something telling him not to. Don’t run.  

 Morgan refused to go to sleep in her own bed. She was sure that Peter would leave if she went upstairs. So instead, she’s curled up against her big brother, his arm wrapped around her. Each breath she takes moves her small frame ever so slightly and small puffs of air blow against Peter’s chest. At some point, he’ll move her to her room, but not yet. He’s not ready to let go of her either.

 “I told you she was dying to meet you.” Peter looks up as Pepper sits down across the way from her kids. True Peter isn’t hers biologically, but ever since Tony brought him into her life, he was hers too.

 “She reminds me of an excited Tony.”

 “She has a lot of him in her. I see so much of him every day.” Pepper goes quiet for a moment, trying to decide the best way to bring up the conversation that Tony would have already plowed into if he was here. “Can we talk about the other night Peter?”

 “I’m fine. I healed by the next morning, just like I said I would.”

 “You and I both know that’s not what I was asking about.” Peter pretends to not know what she’s talking about, but Pepper knows he’s not stupid. “Who’s bad luck is going to get you and your kid killed?” Pepper asks, no louder than a whisper as to not wake the little girl asleep in Peter’s arms.

 “Peter Luck.” Peter mumbles.

 “Peter luck?” 

 “Peter Luck. The luck that if you’re important to Peter Parker you’ll end up dead. It’s my true super power.” Pepper wants nothing more than to pull Peter into her arms and never let go. A seventeen year old should never feel that their superpower is getting their loved ones killed. She may not have the relationship that Tony had with Peter, but she wants to change that. So pushing up from the chair she’s sitting on, Pepper moves to sit next to Peter. 

 “There is no such thing as Peter Luck that is killing your loved ones. Did life deal you a shitty hand? Possibly. But it’s not you, never you, that causes the people around you to leave.”

 “It is though. My parents, Uncle Ben, Tony, they were all close to me and they’re all dead. That’s my fault-”

 “But it’s not Peter. You didn’t wield the gun or drive the car. You didn’t force Tony to use the stones. Those were decisions and actions that the universe put into place and it caused a lot of pain, but it was not because of you.” Peter looks up and the tears are shimmering at the edge of his eyes. “You, Peter, are the luck. People are lucky to have you in their life. I’m lucky to have you as my kid and Morgan is lucky to have you as her brother. That’s the Peter Luck, that people are immensely lucky when they get to be a part of your life.”

 “... I’m your kid?”

 “I love you just as much as I love Morgan. Pretty sure that means you’re my kid. And I don’t think Tony would have had it any other way. Who are we to go against his wishes?” Pepper wants to wrap her arms around this kid that’s seen too much, but doesn’t want to touch him when she’s not sure if he’s ok with it. But he makes the decision for her, by leaning his head against her shoulder. Her arm wraps around him holding him close. She’s pretty sure a couple of tears slip out and hit her blouse but it’s not the first time one of her kids has cried on her shoulder and won’t be the last most likely. “It’s ok, Peter. Everything is ok.”

 “I miss him, so much.”

 “So do I.” Pepper admits, her hand coming up to run through Peter’s curls. 

 “Why did he have to be the one to save the world?” Peter whispers, trying to keep his tears from turning to sobs and chance waking Morgan. Even as he’s falling apart, he is still worrying about others. Pepper wants to take the burden from him.

 “Because he thought it was his responsibility. He wanted to protect those that he loved. You included.”

 “Yeah but any of us could have done it.”

 “But he wouldn’t have wanted any of you to get hurt.” Pepper continues running her hand through Peter’s curls. “And who would you offer up instead?” That stumps Peter. He doesn’t want to lose someone else. He just wants Tony back.

 “We can’t just have Thanos snap himself away?”

 “I would love that, but I don’t think he would believe that is perfect harmony.” Peter curls into Pepper’s side, pulling Morgan with him. He knows Pepper is right.

 “Screw perfect harmony. Fuck Thanos. I just want Tony here.”

 “I’m pretty sure you’re not the only one who feels that way. In fact I’m positive you’re not the only one.” Peter doesn’t say anything but just curls into Pepper a little more. “Morgan asks about Tony at least every other day, if not more. I don’t think she completely understands why he’s gone. And she only had him for a few years.”

 “She understands he’s not coming back?”

 “Sort of. She understood that people go away, but then there’s people like you, who came back like Tony said you would. So I think part of her thinks that Tony is going to come back too. She’s still a bit too young to completely get it, even with how her mind works.” Peter’s hand comes up to wipe away the stray tear running down his face. 

 “Well I’ll be here to explain it to her. What else is a big brother for?” 

 “So much. From couch cushion to explaining how the world works, she got the best one.” 

Permanent tag list: @wormonastringonastick​

Peter Parker Taglist: @cathy8taffy​

[benedictsvestcollection]

Ever Ever After- A Whiskey x reader Modern Cinderella fic

Rating: T for some swearing mostly!

Warnings: Ummmm.... Mentions of death, fluff, sweetness and stepmom being a bitch. 

Word count: 2.3K

A/N: Tomorrow is @absurdthirst‘s birthday so this chapter is dedicated to you my darling! Happy early birthday!

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

As soon as Jack and Ginger were in the back of the towncar and away from prying eyes, Jack heaved a heavy sigh. “I do not like that woman.” He growled as Ginger began typing away an email to Champ. 

He hadn’t stopped thinking about the way Miranda had spoken to you, her own step-daughter. The entire day, he had witnessed you being treated with such disdain and rudeness. 

“Your dentist is going to hate you when they find out you’ve been grinding your teeth so much today.” Ginger teased him, spying the way Jack clenched his jaw so much. Mad on your behalf. A woman, he barely knew but already felt innately protective of. 

“Who the hell talks to their family like that?” He asked her. “She was nothing but sweet and hardworking all day and they just… Spoke to her like that.” 

“Terrible people. They’re terrible people Jack.” Ginger told him simply, knowing he had asked a rhetorical question. But answering him nonetheless. 

Jack sighed, knowing she was right. “Do we have anything on the daughters?” He asked her, changing the subject. 

Ginger shook her head. “As far as I can tell, they’re just spoiled bitches.” She muttered. “But not aware of what their mom is up to.” 

“Like mother, like daughters.” Jack muttered out with a huff. 

“You like her.” Ginger stated matter of factly. “And not just in a ‘what a sweet girl’, or ‘she’s part of the mission’ kind of way.” She teased him. 

He merely grunted in response and shifted in his seat, readjusting his suit jacket. Glaring at Ginger while she smirked from her phone. She was right and he hated that she was. 

“I like her too. Just maybe not in the same way you do.” She continued on, smirk still on her face.

“You done Ging?” He muttered at her grumpily. “We have work to do.” 

~~~~~~~~~

You sighed in contentment inhaling your french toast, bacon, eggs and coffee at your favorite diner. You had cleverly booked your stepmother and sisters for a spa weekend. But in reality, it had been for you. A peaceful weekend to yourself with no work to do. So now, you were treating yourself to brunch at your favorite New York diner. 

“Well, well, well… Isn’t this a welcome sight for sore eyes.” Came a southern drawl over you. Warm like bourbon and comforting like a worn in fall sweater. 

You looked up to see warm brown eyes and a mustache smirk looking down at you in your booth. 

“Oh… Hello Mr. Daniels.” You stammered out at him, suddenly even more relieved that your stepmom and sisters weren’t around, let alone didn’t hang out in your area or they’d accuse you of ruining things by simply talking to him. 

“Oh please darlin’. Call me Jack. Mr. Daniels makes me feel old.” He grinned at you and slid into the booth across from you and ordered a coffee.

“I um… This doesn’t seem like the kind of place you would come to.” You told him nervously. 

“Why? Because I’m the CEO of a distillery?” He teased you. “Darlin’ I was born in Kentucky and went to school in Texas. I’m a cowboy through and through. A diner don’t scare me.” 

You blushed. Why was he here? If word got back to your stepmom and sisters… You didn’t want to think about what they’d do. 

“I need to go.” 

Jack’s hand flashed out and gently took yours. “You have to work on a weekend?” He asked you worried, almost. Like he somehow knew that you worked too much or something. 

“No actually, I just… I don’t get weekends usually so I have stuff I wanted to get done is all.” You shrugged. It wasn’t a total lie, you did have things you wanted to do. Laundry, cleaning your apartment and grocery shopping. But mostly, you were afraid you were going to get caught with Jack Daniels and you didn’t need that drama in your life. You had enough with your family. 

Jack nodded at you. “I understand, can I at least walk you home?” He asked you as he stood with you.

“I-” You were cut off by your phone vibrating in your jeans pocket. “Son of a bitch… Sorry.” You muttered at him as you scowled at the screen. Seeing your stepmother’s name demanding you answer. 

“Yes?” You sighed as you reluctantly answered the phone. Trying to ignore the way Jack was staring at and studying you intently. 

“I need you to go upstate and buy pumpkins.” She responded on the other end of the phone. 

“Pumpkins? Why?” You asked her with a huff.

“Because it’s fall and I want the offices decorated.” You could practically hear her rolling her eyes at what she thought was a stupid question.

“Okay…” You sighed at her once more. “How many do you want me to get?” You asked her. 

“Fifty. I want the office completely decorated for the season.” She told you. “Oh also, maybe get some hay bales too.” 

“Fifty?!” You asked her, jaw dropping in shock. Where in the hell were you supposed to put them? Being New York, you didn’t even have a car. 

“Stop repeating everything I say and just get there and do it.” She snapped and hung up on you.

“Yes ma’am.” You muttered at your phone sarcastically and then tossed it into your purse aggressively. “Well now I do have to work Mr. Daniels.” You grumbled. 

“Kind of difficult to not overhear that conversation.” He admitted softly, almost like he felt sorry for you. “You okay?” He asked you gently. 

“Yeah, I’m great. I have to give up my Saturday, somehow get upstate. Buy fifty pumpkins in various sizes and some bales of hay and get them all back to the office.” You muttered. “Guess I’m renting a car for the day.” 

“Well, she’ll pay for that won’t she?” He asked you, deep down already knowing the answer but wanting to hear you confirm it. 

You snorted. “Yeah right. I practically run the company and I’m living in a shitty studio apartment.” 

Jack frowned at that. “Well then darlin’. I wouldn’t be a southern gentleman if I didn’t offer to help you. I’ve got my Bronco out front and the day off.” He rumbled in your ear. “And don’t you worry, they won’t find out you were helped.” He promised you as he led you outside to his truck. 

“Mr. Daniels I can’t… Ask you to do that.” You insisted as you chewed your bottom lip anxiously. 

“You didn’t ask. I offered. And please… Call me Jack.” He reminded you as he opened the passenger door for you. “Please, I want to help.” 

Honestly, the idea of spending any kind of time with this handsome and charming man was appealing. Plus, you really didn’t feel like spending any of your hard earned money on a rental for a day when you had a truck being offered to you. 

“Okay. Thank you… Jack.” You finally relented with a small, shy smile at him as you climbed up into the passenger seat of his truck. 

He released his gentle hold on your elbow and smiled at you. “You’re welcome darlin’.” He smiled at you as he moved to the driver’s side and started it up.

An hour later, Jack parked his truck in the gravel parking lot. 

“Damn, pumpkin patches sure have changed since I was a kid.” You muttered, taking in the expanse of acreage. An actual pumpkin patch, gift shop, a moonbounce, pony rides and a hay ride. 

Jack let out a whistle and casually tossed his arm over your shoulder. “You said it darlin’.” He agreed and led you to the patch. 

“Haven’t done this since I was a kid with my dad.” You murmured wistfully. 

Jack paused for a split second when you said that. “I’m so sorry.” He rubbed your arm gently. 

You shrugged. “It’s okay.” 

“How uh… How did he die?” He asked gently. 

You wiped a tear from your eye. “Got sick suddenly. Doctor’s couldn’t really explain it. First they thought it was the flu because I got sick too. But he uh… Didn’t make it.” 

“You both got the flu at the same time?” He asked you, brows furrowed in thought. 

“Wasn’t the flu. The only explanation the doctors had was food poisoning.” You mumbled as you both began wandering the patch together. 

“But he… Didn’t make it.” He finished the thought you were internalizing. 

“And I did.” You mused bitterly. 

“Hey now… I won’t have you thinkin’ that way. It ain’t your fault that you both got sick and you didn’t die. I, for one am glad you’re here.” 

Tears were falling down your cheeks now. “He was my best friend and now he’s just… Gone.” 

Quickly, Jack pulled you over to a set of hay bales and faced you. “Loss is never easy to deal with darlin’. But you don’t have to grieve alone.” He reassured you, thumbs gently rubbing the inside of your wrists. 

“You’ve met my stepmom and sisters… Right?” You asked him with a garbled laugh. 

“Look at you, makin’ jokes.” He grinned at you before he instinctively leaned forward to kiss your temple. 

You froze at the sweet gesture, surrounded by his overwhelming scent before you gave in and sank into his arms. For the first time in over a year, you felt safe with someone. Actually cared for. “Thank you… Jack.” You mumbled into his chest.

“Anytime darlin’.” He promised you. “Now… I do believe that we have pumpkins and hay bales to blow on, your stepmother’s money.” He teased you. 

You laughed again and nodded at him. “Yeah… Okay.” 

“Now, you dry your eyes. I’ll go get a wagon for all these pumpkins we have to buy.” 

You nodded and started to browse the pumpkins as Jack went to get a wagon to tote around. 

“Ginger, I need you to look into the medical records or her and her father. Somethin’s off here.” Jack said over the phone. 

“It is awfully convenient that they both got sick and in the hospital. While the father died.” She admitted on the other end of the phone. 

“Not to mention that the stepmom took control of the empire after he died and she was deathly ill in the hospital.” He growled out. 

“Easy there cowboy. Now that we’re here we’ll make sure this doesn’t happen again.” Ginger soothed him. “Now go back to your pumpkin date. I’ll look into this.” 

“Sorry about that darlin’. Was just informin’ Ginger that I wouldn’t be available the rest of the day.” He told you with a smile. 

“It’s okay.” You told him with a shy smile and placed two pumpkins in the wagon. 

The rest of the day proceeded with Jack dutifully toting the wagon around for you. Emptying it into his truck as it got full and they were paid. You bought hay bales, a scarecrow for the reception area and a bushel of apples. 

“You sure do love fall darlin’.” He teased you as you hopped into his truck and sighed. 

“I just... Figured since I was here, the apples are for baking and a couple of pumpkins for my place.” You blushed and shrugged.

It was after nine by the time Jack finally pulled back in front of your building. They had dropped off most of the supplies at the office. 

“Let me help you get this upstairs.” He insisted. “Otherwise you’re going to have to make two trips with this basket of apples and both your pumpkins.” 

“Jack I-” You started, not wanting him to do more for you than he already had. 

“Please… There’s somethin’ I feel like I need to tell you.” He explained to you gently. “Preferably upstairs and not on a New York street.” 

“Tell me… What?” You asked him anxiously. 

“It’s alright. Let’s just get upstairs.” He soothed you.

Nervously, you led the way into your small apartment and set your pumpkins down on your kitchen counter. “What… Uh… What’s going on?” You asked him.

Jack set the basket of apples down next to your pumpkins and placed his hand on your back. “Let’s sit down.” He suggested. 

“Jack I… What’s wrong?” You asked him, hands twisting together anxiously. 

“I’m not exactly the CEO of the Statesman distillery.” He told you simply, staring at you. 

“You’re… What?” You asked him, face scrunched up in confusion.

“Statesman is an independent intelligence agency and I work for them.” He explained to you. “I’m a spy.” 

“You’re a what?” You repeated to him. 

“I know this is difficult to absorb.” He explained to you. “I’m investigatin’ your stepmom’s dealin’ with the company.” 

“Oh so… You were spending time with me for a… Mission?” You asked him. 

“It started off like that, but… You’re very sweet and I’m lookin’ out for you.” He explained. “I’m tryin’ to help you. But I need your help too, if you’re willin’ to help me.” 

“Help you how?” You asked softly.

Jack moved closer to you. “I need someone inside the company, and you’re perfect.” 

You knew he meant for helping him but, him calling you perfect made you blush. “Perfect how?”

“Look, I don’t wanna pressure you into doin’ somethin’ without you thinkin’ or sleepin’ on it.” He explained softly, as he rubbed your wrists softly. “Why don’t you sleep on it and you call me tomorrow.” 

“Yeah, that might be best. I uh… Don’t want my family to find out about this.” You explained nervously. 

“I completely understand darlin’. You think on it, and let me know. Alright? No pressure, I promise.” 

You practically melted as he ran his knuckles gently along your cheekbone. You nodded at him and smiled shyly at him. “Okay.”

“Good night darlin’.” He murmured in your ear. 

“Good night Jack.” You returned as he finally departed your apartment and you considered his news and offer to you.

Tag list:

@absurdthirst, @spacegayofficial, @lilangeldevil006, @manda-but-not-lorian, @emmymarierivia, @din-djarin-protection-squad, @nope-itsnopi, @gothgirl1362-blog, @deafspaceperson, @auty-ren, @luminescentlily, @ahopelessromanticwritersworld, @babe-dont, @dreamgirl-6781-blog, @katialvi, @zoe-rachel-crisp, @cryptkeepersoul, @jaa1682-27, @katheriner1999, @promiscuoussatan, @paintballkid711, @marvelranger, @owljumper, @girlwithanewplan, @iellarenuodolorian, @lost-girl-inc, @f0rever15elf, @mrschiltoncat, @hillarymurray4, @seejayyou 

Sorry some of my tags aren’t fully working! XOXO

[schnoogles]

pterolycus: the winged wolf written for the @jonsa-halloween event! Day 4: Monsters/Quotes Read on Ao3

“The Northern girl. Winterfell’s daughter. We heard she killed the king with a spell, and afterward changed into a wolf with big leathery wings like a bat, and flew out a tower window.” What if Sansa did have the magic to change into a wolf with big bat-like leathery wings? But set in a modern au! In this modern with magic au, there’s a secret coven of teenage witches that Sansa and Margaery are a part of, and they get into all kinds of fun ;) After knowing him for so long and dating him, Sansa has told Jon everything about her being a witch. It’s just a good time folks 😂

Present time, Monday, 8am

Sansa was gathering her books from her locker. It was a Monday morning and she was tired and exhausted but school doesn’t care about that. She had a long weekend. Did she regret it though? Absolutely not. Once she had everything she needed, she closed her locker door and flinched back in surprise. Leaning up against the other side was none other than Jon Snow.

Sansa held a hand to her heart. She was a little jumpy this morning. “Seven Hells, Jon!” 

The boy in question just smirked at her. “Hi, honey.” 

She rolled her eyes and walked past him. Jon, not ready to go to class yet, followed.

“You know, I heard the most interesting rumor earlier,” he said, casually throwing an arm over her shoulders, “Have you heard it? It was about a certain ex boyfriend of yours. Joffrey Baratheon.” Ah yes. Joffrey Baratheon. The boy and his family had moved up North just last year and Sansa was immediately smitten by his pretty words. Unfortunately for her, she found out the hard way what a complete ass he was. “Ring any bells?”

If Jon wasn’t looking so intently at her, he wouldn’t have seen the corner of Sansa’s mouth twitch. “Can’t say that I have. What rumors would that be?” 

“Apparently, after the party Saturday night, he showed up at his house at nearly five in the morning the next day and was completely incoherent. And practically naked. Started screaming like a banshee and saying things like ‘It was a flying wolf-bat!’ and ‘She turned into a monster!’ It caused such the commotion that the whole block woke up. He was spazzing so hard that-”

Sansa tsked at Jon. “You know how I feel about that word Jon.”

He raised his hands in surrender. “Sorry, that was ableist of me.”

“Thank you.”

“Anyways, so he was… acting really paranoid, right? Kept looking around as if something would pop up and eat him.” Jon smiled as he continued, “and he wouldn’t let Cersei bring him inside the house, insisting that they take him to the police. ‘Hello yes I would like to make a report: a monster attacked me and took my clothes!’ Can you imagine how that would go?” At this point, Jon couldn’t stop chuckling. If asked, Sansa would say that his laughter was contagious and that’s why she smiled. It’s not like she was there to see the half-naked Joffrey running off.

The night before, Sunday, 2am

Jon gave his girlfriend one more long lasting kiss. “Do you have to do it tonight?” he mumbled into her mouth. Sansa giggled.

“Yes, Jon. And it’s already the hour of the wolf, I should’ve gone back ages ago.” As she made to move out from under him, he grabbed at her waist and snuggled closer.

“Yes yes, your witching hour approaches,” Jon sighed. Then he looked at her mischievously. “One more time? Aren’t orgasms supposed to enhance your powers or something?”

At that, Sansa couldn’t help but laugh. “Stranger take me, I’m not going to be performing sex magic!”

“Oh, no?” Jon began trailing kisses down her neck, each one slower and softer than the last. “That’s too bad.”

Sansa sighed at his ministrations. “Yup. Just your standard shifting spell. And… I should… really… I should really go soon. Margie will be waiting.” Despite her words, she made no move to stop Jon’s attentions on her. In fact, she seemed to hold on to him tighter. When Jon’s mouth continued moving lower and lower, she gave in. “Maybe one more won’t hurt.”

“One more. For the road.” He started kissing and sucking in all the right places. 

Sansa huffed a laugh. “Yeah. For the road.” She started to moan, her body was being filled with a different kind of magic just then.

Three days ago, Friday, 1pm

“Sansa, Margaery is here!” Sansa opened an eye. She was hoping she just imagined her mother calling her, but she heard another shout for her name. With a groan, she blew out the candles and went to see what Margaery Tyrell wanted. Sansa had a very strange friendship with the girl. When Joffrey broke up with her last year, Sansa was secretly happy. That didn’t stop the sting that she felt when she found out Margaery started dating him a few weeks later though. But that was neither here nor there. She broke up with him for his younger, kinder brother, Tommen.

“Hey Marge,” she greeted her friend. She took one good look at the brunette’s appearance and frowned. Something was wrong. 

Margaery gave her a small smile and asked, “Hey Sans, can we talk?” Sansa nodded and gestured for her to follow up the stairs. When they walked in her bedroom, Sansa swore. She forgot to clean up. 

“Oh! Did I interrupt?” Margaery smirked at her.

 “Just some new incantations I was trying out. You know. So what’s up buttercup?”

Margaery hesitated. She wouldn’t look Sansa in the eye and kept wringing her hands, like she just realized being here was a bad idea. Despite their history, Sansa still cared for her friend. “Margie? What happened?”

“I’m sorry,” Margaery sniffled, “I’m sorry I dated Joff. I know it was a shitty thing to do and I don’t think I ever properly apol-”

“Whoa, Margaery,” Sansa raised her hands, as if she were presenting herself as non threatening to the other girl. “That was ages ago. Thought we were passed that.” Sansa smiled then. “And honestly it was kind of the best thing that happened to me.”

“Yeah,” Margaery nodded, “You and Jon are so lucky to have each other.” 

Sansa tilted her head, “So are you and Tommen. Unless…?”

“No! No, we’re still very much happy. It’s just…” she trailed off, not sure how to explain. But Sansa knew what she was trying to say.

“It’s just hard when your current boyfriend is brothers with your ex?”

Margaery laughed in a self-deprecated manner, “I sure know how to pick them, right?”

“Hey. Tommen’s good for you.” With that reassurance out of the way, Sansa asked, “So that can’t be why you came here though. What happened?”

“Right. Well I ran into Joff when I was over at Tommen’s. Surprised it took so long really, it was bound to happen.”

“Damn. Did he say something?”

“He said lots of somethings,” her jaw clenched at the memory of what happened. “I believe the words ‘slut’ and ‘easy’ were in the mix.”

“Fucking hell.”

“Yeah.” Margaery scoffed, “Then he asked if I was going for Renly next seeing as Loras and I always share everything.” She looked up at Sansa. “You told me he was a monster and I didn’t listen. You’re really the only one who would understand and I needed someone to talk about this with.”

“I’ll do you one better,” Sansa raised her hand and a book came flying to it. “How bout we teach the little shit a thing or two about what real monsters look like?”

The night before, Sunday 4am

Sansa climbed through the window to Jon’s room. The one he conveniently left open for her. She thought he’d be asleep, but he wasn’t. “Oh? Back so soon already? How’d it go?” She undressed and got under the blankets and snuggled with him. 

“It went rather well if I do say so myself.” Sansa was smug. “You know how I’ve been practicing my shapeshifting?”

Jon lifted a brow in interest. “Yeah. Did you finally nail it down?”

“Nope! But it was a blessing in disguise. I couldn’t manage to concentrate properly so I ended up as a wolf with bat wings,” she laughed, “It was utterly terrifying if I’m being honest.” 

She went on to explain to Jon how they had managed to trick Joffrey into thinking he would be meeting Marge for a secret rendezvous. How Margaery had been manipulating the plants in her garden to snag at his clothes. How, because of Joff’s fear of wolves, the original plan was for her to change into one and scare him senseless. She told him how Joffrey started to get impatient and called for “the slut to come out” and how Sansa saw red. Her lack of focus caused her to briefly shift back and she panicked and tried to turn back into a wolf, only her concentration was off and she sprouted bat wings. The confusion of what she did made her freak out just a bit and so she spread her wings out and let out a ferocious growl, all the while facing Joffrey, who then wet his pants. By the end of her recap, Jon was in tears.

“Mother have mercy he peed his pants? How fucking embarrassing.”

Present time, Monday, 8am

“Hey guys,” Margaery greeted, “Wild rumors today, right?”

The three of them shared knowing looks.

“You know Sansa, I was thinking, and I’m pretty sure I figured out why you-” she leaned in and lowered her voice, “-shifted back and to a monster so fast.” Margaery straightened her back and smirked at them. When Sansa gave her a questioning look, she continued, “Did you know orgasms don’t just enhance the magic for sex rituals? They’re very good for all sorts of magics. The release of chemicals and hormones in a female, you know?” With one last knowing look, she left the two of them and continued on her way. 

“A monster, hmm?” Jon teased.

“Oh shut up. Go to class Jon.”

Before he left though, Jon leaned in and he whispered in her ear, “I think I like that idea. My girl’s a monster in the streets and I’ll be the monster in the sheets.” With a final wink, he walked away, leaving a very breathless Sansa standing in the halls. 

Oh, she’ll show him a monster in the sheets.

[probably-writing-x]

Innocence never looked so good

Valerio x Reader

Request by anon : I love your writings🧡����they’re what keeps me busy during this sucky time. If you’re still taking asks, I was wondering if you could write about Valerio and him meeting a new transfer scholarship student. At first he’s not really interested bc she’s pretty innocent but then he ends up falling for her. Kind of like Guzman and Nadia I guess. I mean you could honestly write it anyway you want and if love it 🥺 this was just ask. If not it’s understandable :))

Gif is not my own

Requests are open🤍

“So is this how it works here?” It was a boy from the back of the class that spoke up, “You just dish out scholarships left right and centre?”

He was a tall, slim boy with wild dark curls being his typically distinctive feature. You were more drawn to the sharp structure of his face and how he seemed so nonchalant about his extroverted personality. He was leaning back in the chair with his legs on top of the desk and his arms stretched out like he was opening himself to the world.

“Valerio, not now,” The teacher rolls his eyes, “(Y/n) is just as deserving of her place here as any of you are. I expect you to make her welcome as you would do with any paying student, understood?”

You swallow the lump in your throat and blink a couple of times at the intimidating crowd in front of you. You weren’t the most confident at the best of times so starting a new school was already an experience you feared - let alone when that school was filled to the brim with rich kids that you’d never fit in with.

The only spare seat in the class happened to be beside this Valerio so you walk your way over and stand awkwardly beside his desk.

“Can I sit here?” You ask quietly, forcing yourself to remain calm, “Please?”

He lets a smirk dance across his lips as he trails his eyes up and down your form, tapping his pen on the table with one hand, “Okay, (Y/n).”

Valerio swings his legs down and shuffles in his chair to make room for you beside him. You set your bag down beside you and pull out the books that you needed for the lesson, along with your pencil case.

“Fuck,” Valerio says a little too loudly, “She really is a nerd.”

You blush furiously at his comment but keep your head down nonetheless, scribbling down the date and the title of the lesson.

“Valerio!” The teacher warns, “Do I need to tell you again that your father’s money can easily be replaced?”

He rolls his eyes as a stunning girl from a few rows in front turns around and glares at him - an evident warning behind her perfected eyes.

Valerio ignores you for the rest of the lesson, spending half of his time staring out of the window and the other half trying to see how far he could rock back on his chair.

- - - - - -

You’re sat next to Valerio in that class every single day and every day is the same. You wait for him to move his feet from the table, you sit down and get on with the work and he finds any way possible of avoiding the work. It continues like that again and again every single day.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with your hair down,” He comments as you sit down on one random Monday morning.

You’d managed to make a few friends at Las Encinas - the other scholarship students really. But you tried your best to remain under the radar.

“I don’t ever really think about it,” You shrug, tucking a stray lock behind your ear as you scribble down the date.

“It’s nice.”

It’s weird to hear Valerio say anything remotely close to a compliment, even if it was something minor. But you find yourself looking at him with a little frown.

“You don’t think I have it in me to be polite?” He cocks a brow, “I’ll have you know I’m a gentleman, (Y/n).”

“If you say so,” You shrug and it’s like the tiniest spark of fire he’s ever seen from you. It takes him aback a little even if it shouldn’t. You were always so passive, and yet you’d had that tiniest fraction of sass in your words then that threw him just a little off balance.

He watches you a little bit more that day, wanting to know the person behind who you were when you sat beside him.

- - - - - -

The next morning, Valerio is still in his normal position in the chair as you come in but there’s a rose left on your side of the table.

“What’s this?” You question, picking it up to make space for your books.

He shrugs and shifts his legs, as usual, “I have no idea.”

“Well, you must’ve seen who put it down,” You comment, turning it over in your hands, “Who was it?”

“Can’t have been me,” He pushes himself off from the table using his firmly planted hands so that he rocks back on his chair, “I’m not romantic enough.”

- - - - - -

There continue to be little moments like that. A week later, he left a book on the table that he claimed was a brilliant read under his own recommendation. Next, it was a new notepad from when he saw you were coming to the end of yours. Sometimes, it would just be a note where he’d scribbled a poem quote that he liked. And, oddly, you found yourself looking forward to each day where you may or may not find a little gesture given from the extroverted boy that sat beside you. He didn’t show any interest in you outside of those moments, ignoring you in every other class, never acknowledging you in the hallways - but that one class every morning was his slight moment with you where he did show that side.

It’s a number of weeks later and things had started to deteriorate for you yet again at home. Your parents were what you’d call ‘missing in action’ - where they reprised their regular roles of being shitty parents by abandoning you with no knowledge of when they’d return. Normally, it would be for a cheap holiday they’d booked and not told you about, or because their drug-fuelled minds had considered it a brilliant idea to head off to somewhere unknown. Whatever it was, it always circled back eventually. And you’d be left alone yet again.

This time, it had meant that you’d barely been sleeping. So you’d decided to show up to school early and you found yourself sitting in the class before anybody else had even arrived.

When Valerio walks in, he stops in his tracks.

“The introvert, the woman of routine, breaking the cycle?” He gasps, sauntering over to you with all levels of confidence as he always managed to hold.

You must’ve looked an absolute state. Your hair was pulled into a bun, your eyes darkened by the purple circles that carried their weight, your clothes weren’t as neat as you tried to keep them and every part of you felt a little detached from your normal self.

Valerio strolls around your chair and flops down into the one next to you, “What caused the change, (Y/n)?”

When you don’t respond to him with a polite or sassy response, and he’s instead met with silence, he frowns and leans toward you in his chair.

“Is everything okay?” He asks, quiet and cautious like he was saying it with genuine care.

You run your hands over your hair to smooth it somewhat and look at him with the most forced smile you had the energy to give, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

With that, you go about all the parts of your normal routine. Pen out, books open, date in the top right hand corner. But there’s something about the shaky breath that you release and the way that your eyes seem just on the verge of pouring that makes Valerio struggle to ever take his eyes off of you. He’d never felt so serious in one of these classes. And it wasn’t an important topic or a test he should be trying to pass. It was because this girl beside him had a lot more than her passive exterior showed - and he couldn’t imagine just how much she’d had bottled up inside this whole time.

- - - - - -

The next morning, and the next and the next, you’re sat in that class before him again. There was something about being at school that made you not feel so alone so you’d been making the most of the hours you could spend here. Valerio expresses concern every morning by asking if you were okay and you even start to notice him steal glances in your direction every time you were in his class or you passed him at school.

This one morning, he comes in to find you practically half-asleep at the desk. You don’t pay attention to when he sits down and your books are already open but they’re empty and lifeless on the desk.

“No date this morning?” He nudges you, noticing how your appearance had changed day by day. Deteriorating little by little.

He’d even noticed how your lips seemed a little bit more chapped and your hands seemed drier and less youthful.

You flinch from your daze and try to shake it off, “Yeah, right. Um, what are we doing today?”

And it’s odd how much his heart drops at the question. This wasn’t you. This wasn’t the girl he’d grown so used to seeing every single morning in the same light. That light had dimmed. And he felt it within him that he couldn’t possibly let that light dim any more without at least an attempt at reigniting it again.

- - - - - -

When you come into school early the next morning, it startles you to turn on the light and not be alone in the class. Valerio sat at the desk with his feet up on the table and a proud smirk on his face.

“I beat you,” He comments, “Eventually.”

You wish you had the energy to respond with something witty, but it had been near enough ten days without your parents now - ten days of being alone in the flat without heating in the middle of winter, with the broken fridge and the oven that never heated up properly.

“Hey, we have a test coming up next week,” Valerio comments, “Do you mind helping me study?”

“A test?” You frown, having no recollection of anything being mentioned, “Yeah, yeah, I guess that’s okay.”

It pains him. You were clearly going through something that went beyond the realm of school drama. And yet you’d still agreed to help him with no real reason to accept his request. You could’ve easily said no. You had no obligation to help the boy who was yet to put in an ounce of effort to any day at this place. But he knew that no part of your good heart would have it in you to say no when he’d asked for help.

“Great,” He grins, “Shall we say your place tonight?”

“I-“ You stop yourself, “Could we not go somewhere else?”

“Lu will be at mine, school will be closed, and it’s too cold to go anywhere outside,” He explains, “I’ll meet you there for six.”

“How do you know where I live?”

“I have my ways.”

Those ways consisted of his actions this morning whilst he was waiting for you to make your early entrance to school. He’d broken into the filing cabinet of the school office until he found the file that belonged to you, not looking any further than at the address in the top right hand corner - he’d hope that your meeting with him tonight would tell him the rest of the information that the file couldn’t.

- - - -

At just past six, there’s a repeated buzzing to try to get into your flat and you let Valerio up cautiously. This all seemed very weird. Why had he bothered? He was Lu’s brother - if he needed help with studying why wouldn’t he go to her.

He comes into your flat, still dressed in his school uniform as he smiles widely at you, “So this is your humble abode.”

You roll your eyes, “I’m guessing you didn’t expect much from the scholarship student.”

“It’s nice,” He pokes his head around every corner, “It’s quaint. Are your parents out?”

You scoff before you can stop yourself, “You could say that.”

He looks at you like he had a million more questions to ask but you interject before he can continue. He sits down at one of the seats on your dining table.

“So, I haven’t really prepared much for studying, I figured we could just go through the content and then see which bits you struggle with the most-“

“(Y/n), are you okay?” He cuts in, showing more compassion in that one question than you’d heard from anyone for a long time.

You swallow the lump in your throat, “I told you I’m fine. Can we please just get on with studying?”

“It’s me, of course I didn’t come here to study,” He rolls his eyes, “You can talk to me, you know?”

“Why would I do that? So you can go and tell the rest of them that the new scholarship kid actually has a kind of shitty life at the minute?” Your anger bubbles and you’re not really sure what causes it, “I’m not one of you guys and I know that.”

“Is that really what you think of me? You think I’ve come here to humiliate you,” The look of realisation on his face makes you instantly beyond guilty.

“How could I not expect that?” You sigh, “You said it yourself on my first day.”

“Things have changed since then, (Y/n).”

“Have they? Because you’re nice to me every single morning for an hour, and then the rest of the day consists of you acting like I don’t exist - I see it Valerio, I’m not an idiot,” You shake your head, “Why would I assume that much has changed?”

“Because I care about you (Y/n),” He sits upright and you can tell he cares about what he’s about to say, “I see you every morning and it’s like I’ve seen you go through this whole change since the start of the year. You became more confident and you came out of your shell, and then it all seemed to drop recently. I made up the fact that we had a test and I went into school when it was still dark so I could find your address, and then I walked myself here just so I could come and see you outside of that stupid desk at the back of the class.”

You stay silent. That was true. You couldn’t take for granted the fact that Valerio had been nice to you recently, and conscious of how much you seemed to deteriorate. You watch as he lights up a cigarette and takes a long drag.

“What’s this then? Valerio’s got feelings for the scholarship kid? I don’t think Lu will be impressed.”

You watch his lips curl into a smile and how his teeth flash bright against his dark curls, “I think she’d be surprised about me having feelings for anyone.”

And just like that, it’s probably the most genuine smile youve had in weeks.

[bangtanblurbs]

abyss

song: abyss by jin

first experience: as a relatively new song, i remember clearly abyss’ drop. 12/2/2020 - several months into whatever quarantine had come to mean by that point, thanksgiving had just past and christmas was coming up in a matter of weeks. those few weeks between the holidays often pass by in a blur for me. holidays are hard. they’re not the romantic times they always were when i was a child. once again i’d been sitting at home in my tiny studio apartment, freezing, trying to crank through work and school obligations. i can assure you my headspace was less than great, between the cold, the holiday season, the deadlines that had piled up... abyss dropping was the perfect medicine for how i was feeling. 

feelings: when i listen to abyss i can’t help but feel emotional. of course. naturally the accompanying note that came with abyss was heartbreaking enough. but at the same time, the song feels like home. it feels like walking into my apartment after a long day and slipping into my favorite hoodie that desperately needs to be thrown into the wash. the familiar feeling brings about warmth despite the sobering reality that i’m still here, by myself, slipping into my ratty clothing and climbing into bed to disassociate from the self-hatred, stress, obligation, and grief i carry daily. the reality is, listening to abyss is like listening to my inner voice. i’m not saying i understand jin, or any of the shit he’s obviously gone through and dealt with in his very colorful life, but i feel close to him whenever i put the song on. i feel like as i grow older - i grow into myself - i grow into the pain i’ve harbored for years now. while i sometimes feel like i’m drowning in the abyss, at least i have the comfort that my feelings aren’t as alien as they seem. especially for someone who has been fortunate in life in many ways - this song shows me that i’m still *allowed* to hurt. i’m still allowed to carry my pain and feel it flow through me. 

i must also say, that my heart broke many times know that jin feels the emotions that abyss conveys. the self-doubt, the anxiety... how we all must wish we could wash it away. i only hope with all of my heart that he’s been given time, space, and resources to process his emotions fully. i can’t imagine carrying what he’s carrying and having the schedule he has. bless. 

personal connection: as alluded to, i’m not the most stable person. i can post happy photos online, i can breathe my idealism into others, i can love with the full capacity of my heart - but i have plenty of demons. i’m not sure where they came from, i noticed them around the time i became a teenager - that sinking feeling that all aspects of my existence are ugly, undesirable, annoying. these demons have never gone away. no matter how much i strive for my dreams, no matter what i accomplish, the amount of solitude that exists in my life allows for the cracks in my heart to rip open forcefully. 

it’s this very thinking that limits me. i don’t believe in myself. i don’t really believe in anything if i’m being honest. everything feels dark. there’s ups and downs. much how jin describes in the song - i desperately want to be a part of a more vibrant existence. i deeply want to connect with others, but the anxiety, the self doubt, the hatred i harbor, they’re paralyzing. simple tasks - texting a friend to make plans, following through with plans, speaking in a group setting, advocating for myself, they’re all things i’d rather shut the door on. vulnerability? i can’t open myself up for any more pain. in my mind, i’d rather retreat to the darkness, convincing myself i’m not worthy of taking another’s time, space, efforts. and i get overwhelmed, the feelings that jin is describing perfectly - having someone take an interest in me - having someone show me love... it feels false, it takes my breath away, only makes me question more. it makes me wonder how long i’ll indulge them before i push them away and move to my own abyss. 

in abyss jin isn’t even talking about another person. he’s speaking to himself. there’s not a romantic or even friendship he’s speaking of in the song. it’s more about like - is it okay for me to feel happy or hopeful? am i someone who should be allowed to meet happiness? this is something i relate to even more profoundly than the previously mentioned worries over letting new people into my life. ever since i went off to university from my kinda shitty hometown i wondered... is this life something i’m allowed to have for myself? am i worthy of it? did i do anything to deserve the place i’m at? i feel often like my work, my thoughts, my actions -- they’re not enough to place me in some of the places i’ve been lucky enough to have a seat. these doubts can cripple me with inaction and keep me chained to the present, or at the very least held back from progress and moving forward. these feelings were exactly what i was going through in december. do i deserve to be pursuing my phd? am i worthy? i haven’t accomplished near what my peers have, and i probably never will... i’m not as passionate as the others i pass by in the hallways, those i share a floor with at meetings... i’m a shell compared to them. should i retreat to my abyss rather than continue to occupy space where i don’t feel i’m allowed to be? am i allowed to celebrate and feel happiness when i’m not really doing as well as i could be?

obviously this sounds like whining, it sounds pathetic. and perhaps to someone it is, but it’s the reality of my mind. it’s something i bear and it’s something i’m finally okay sharing with others. i don’t know how to overcome these emotions i harbor - but that feeling of feeling most comfortable in my abyss, in the dark, in the little world i’ve created in my lonely haven... that’s my reality. that’s the feeling that i’ve connected to when i listen to abyss. it’s those moments when you look our your window, at your phone, and you see the outside world moving rapidly in the sunlight, and you can’t help but feel you don’t deserve to be a part of it... you can’t help but know that your true place is in the abyss. the pleasure i receive from escaping reality is unexplainable. and sometimes, it’s pleasure in the fact that i’m punishing myself, putting myself in the dark and ugly place i think i truly belong. that abyss - it’s my haven. it’s my sanctuary. 

song breakdown:

musically: abyss is beautifully understated musically, but not in a way that makes it a stripped vocal song... but instead in a way that highlights the emotion laden in jin’s voice. the piano backing picks up with the song and brings in some effects along the way to highlight the emotional pauses between the heavy lyrics. its the perfect ballad. truly. the incorporation of a steady beat track at the second verse also ads to the emotions of feeling like something is dragging, the monotony of these emotions as one carries through each day. 

the dramatic pauses that lead into the verses and highlight the pure emotion carried in jin’s tone also bring emphasis to the powerful refrain in the chorus - it’s almost reminiscent of personal realizations, personal *epiphanies* one might say. that moment where you draw in a big breath and gulp it down before confronting your demons. while the track keeps it’s steady pace, it does what it should for this piece - highlights the beauty of jin’s voice, and carries the weight of the emotions in the lyrics. 

vocally: honestly, just wow. jin’s voice, is absolutely stunning in this song. completely breathtaking in the best kind of way. i say this with nothing but complete respect - jin’s vocals have done nothing but improve and grow in strength over time to the complete crisp perfection they are today. the amount of emotion he carries in his tone is also perfect to deliver such a profound ballad as abyss. i hope he knows that we can feel every ounce of truth and healing he put into the song. 

we all know jin is the high note king, but he honestly ops for more of a storytelling vibe in this song, keeping within his lower register throughout the verses. it really isn’t until we are mid-chorus that we get the breathtaking high note during the line “ 잠기고 싶어 가보고 싶어.” this is perhaps the most profound lyric of the chorus as well, since it’s the moment in which jin expresses a desire. most of the lyrics up to that point explain a state of being, his emotions, but at this point - he is almost calling out his desire. his painful desire. to stay lost within in his abyss. it’s painful and stunningly beautiful at the same time.

the genius of the entire song was jin delivering abyss in a way that we don’t always hear him sing in BTS songs. the buttery smoothness of his voice is on full display, with no need to stay in his high register for long we can really hear the weight in his tone, the pleading in his voice, the sincerity. it’s sobering, and it’s powerful. and i must say, i can’t wait to get more songs like this from jin in the future. i hope he continues to share his heart, his voice, and his talent with us. 

lyrically: oh man. this one is a deep cut. you can really feel jin’s voice throughout the lyrics of abyss. the accompanying note that he released with the song brings a lot of context and understanding to the lyrics. in the note jin explains feeling inadequate and insecure in light of the amazing accomplishments that BTS had made over the years, specifically highlighting the #1 on Billboard Hot 100. he explains that he felt like his passion and talents were lacking compared to others in music, and felt undeserving of the love, joy, and recognition he received. his emotions seem to be similar to those of imposter syndrome, feeling like he doesn’t belong in a space he inhabits and actually receives accolades for existing within. what’s more telling is in this note jin expresses his apprehension to share these sadder emotions he harbors. this song is so incredibly raw for being a place in which jin finally found a space in which to express his feelings, let them run freely and beautifully without the concern that he needed to stay strong for ARMY.

to jump right into a closer analysis of the lyrics - the song begins with a story like vibe. the first lyric “i hold my breath as i walk into my sea” brings about the image of the speaker (i apologize in advance if i alternate between speaker and jin) beginning their descent into deeper waters of the ocean. the speaker is bracing for this though, as they are the one propelling it forward with enough pacing to prepare and hold their breath. to me, this is alluding to jin knowing that he’s falling into a darker space in his mind, consciously allowing himself to slip into that space. he then moves into describing his state “i face myself who is crying beautifully and sorrowfully.” jin is describing that he’s taking account of his state, speaking to himself and seeing the distraught state that exists within his mind -- seeping into his outer appearance. 

the pre-chorus moves into a different vibe, jin addresses the duality in himself. he recognizes both the parts of himself that are strong - that can shoulder and carry the parts of him that are deeply broken and sad. “myself in that darkness / i’d like to go find him and tell him” this is jin speaking with clarity to his broken self, his rationality coming through to speak to the parts of him that are insecure and hurting. “that i’d like to know more about you today, yeah” perhaps this is jin’s way of saying that he wishes he understood himself better, that he wishes he could more confidently identify the emotions he was feeling and process them fully. the pre-chorus in my mind is jin using some clarity to check in with himself and take inventory of his state when he’s in his darkest moments.

the chorus picks up and delivers a few devastatingly beautiful and sobering lines. “still, i remain with myself / with my voice unable to come out, i just circle around him.” this is where we see the ultimate conclusion of the engagement in the pre-chorus... jin’s insecurity and pain keeps his strength from winning out. the duality in his being still exists, but in this moment it’s the pain, the insecurity, the feelings of inadequacy that have won out. “that dark place, / i’d like to be submerged in it, i’d like to go to it / i’ll be there” jin then places us back into the story he started in the beginning of the song - he’s submerged in the abyss, the darkest and deepest point of the ocean. he speaks to taking the time to really feel the emotions that he is harboring, causing him pain. while this could be a conscious decision he is making to better understand and process his emotions it’s also likely that this desire is rooted in self-loathing, a desire to self-punish for his perceived shortcomings. the pleasure that sometimes one can gain from fully feeling pain that they believe they deserve. the line about being submerged also brings about the image of an anchor in my mind - like these emotions are weighing jin down. while anchors may sink slowly (like slowly taking a breath and walking into the sea) they’re hard to pull back up -- they want to stay seated to the ground, where they belong to do their job. perhaps jin is in some ways alluding to this. either way, the chorus is about a desire to remain in the dark place, where it feels safe, where he feels he deserves to be. the final line is “today as well, i circle around you again.” which brings us back to the pre-chorus dialogue between jin’s duality - the part of him that may rationally understand that he deserves love, that he works hard, that he is worthy... but yet this part can’t seem to gain control over the darker feelings within him... so there’s this idling, this perpetual circle of inaction. 

moving into the second verse this interaction occurring within jin’s inner being continues. “the closer i get to you, the more breathless i become and the father away you feel” while this line is a bit more difficult for me to completely understand what i think he is speaking to is that as he begins to think he understands his emotions, when he thinks he might be regaining his confidence he realizes he is only scratching the surface. he realizes that there’s more to his darker emotions than he’d initially thought. perhaps he thought he was just having a bad day or feeling in funk, but then he realizes that there’s a piece of him that he doesn’t quite understand and perhaps isn’t ready to understand as the word “breathless” invokes a feeling of overwhelm. the second and closing line of the verse is “wouldn’t it be that you went deeper into the sea, yeah” invoking that these darker emotions only continue to grow, evolve, and perhaps overwhelm. he feels like he can’t quite pull himself out of the place he’s in, no matter what he tries. 

the pre-chrous as analyzed above then repeats, although the meaning is somewhat different when following the second verse. this is because the nature of the second verse is more hopeless in nature, therefore while jin would like to be able to regain some control over these darker feelings -- he’s just expressed that as he tries he finds it more overwhelming and difficult. finds himself moving further into the dark emotions. 

the final chorus is different that the previous - the lyrics change and while they continue a deeply sorrowful theme, they also bring about some hope. the first line, “still, i remain with you” is telling. jin is reminding himself that even if he feels consumed by these emotions, the other components of him still exist. he isn’t just the darker feelings that have taken precedence. he can have his confidence when he’s ready, he can maintain his duality. all aspects of jin, even if he’s feeling broken. “with my voice unable to come out, i just circle around him.” even if he feels he can’t gain control of these emotions, he can be patient with himself, he can know that there’s the potential that he can overcome, but also he knows that it’s okay in this moment to just feel. “that dark place / i’d like to be submerged in it, i’d like to go to it” this line is re-emphasizing jin’s desire to stay in the place where he feels comfortable, where he can feel his darker emotions, where he things he truly deserves to be. “today as well, like this, i close my eyes to get to you.” this is the final line of the song and it delivers a sense of comfort. no matter what, jin knows that he can be at peace - he may have these darker emotions, but he can close his eyes, he can rest and carry all aspects of his emotional state. the dark, the light, the highs and the lows. he can take his time in the abyss when he needs to. 

tl;dr? abyss is one of those songs that anyone who has struggled with self-doubt, dabbled or dipped fully into self-hatred can identify with. many people i’m sure have their own abyss. their own place in their mind where they’d like to lock themselves in - a prison of their own design that in one way might be one’s punishment for their perceived shortcomings, but also can be a paradise when a beautiful being seemingly undeserved reality feels like too much to bear. jin’s artistry both in terms of lyrics and vocals are on full display in the song - showing his amazing range and delivering a piece full of emotional tones. abyss is a stunning piece of the man’s mind and heart that i am extremely grateful to be able to experience. 

[sunflowersunshinevol6]

My Way

Chapter Four

Warnings: kidnapping, substance abuse, psychological abuse, stockholm syndrome, physical abuse, violence

A/N: this chapter is pretty dark. Fair warning

Clara was propped on her elbows, head in hands, feet locked together, as she watched Harry lay out his ‘tools’ on the opposite bed. He had lifted a floorboard in the van, to reveal a box, filled with tons of weapons, some she didn’t even recognize. The tv played commercials in the background, neither of them were paying attention. Harry touched the tools gently, almost affectionately. It was strange to her. He began putting them, one by one into a duffel bag.

He had explained to her that sorting his tools was like pregame for him. Looking at them and thinking about what he'd use them for amped him up. It made her shudder.

“Keep the door locked. Don't answer it for anyone. I'll be back in a few hours,” Clara rolled over onto her back, sighing.She counts the tiles in the ceiling, she hasn’t had her meds in days and she can feel the tide coming in, the anxieties slowly creeping up, ready to drag her down again.  “Clara?” Harry came to her, he leaned over her face “Princess,” he said gently, “what's wrong?” She wrinkled her nose.

“I'm not a princess,” she insisted. Harry chuckled.

“What's on your mind?”

“Its my meds,” she swallowed down the lump forming in her throat, “I've been off my medication for too long…..”

“For anxiety?” She nodded.

“And other things.”

“Are they over the counter or?”

“Doctor scripts.”

“What happens when you go off them?” Clarafurrowed her brow, she doesn't know how to describe it.

“It's not good,” she can see the wheels turning, as Harry tried to find a solution to Clara's current problem.

“I have a suggestion….but before I give it, I want to know what you want me to do.” Clara was taken aback by Harry's sudden thoughtfulness.

“I want you to stay,” she said honestly.

“Clara-” Harry warns.

“Please.”

“You know I can't.”

“Why not.”

“Because.” He was getting irritated. She continued.

“Because why?”

“You know why .” He growled.

“I want to hear you say it.”

“I have a job to do.”

“Killing innocent people isn't a job, it's murder.”

“If I killed innocent people I would have killed you in that gas station a week ago.” he hissed standing up. He walked away from her, dragging a hand down his face, the room was silent, his words hanging in the air. “I don't kill good people. My family , doesn't kill good people.” He clarified, “We kill the scum of the earth. The evil fuckers that walk around free. Pedophiles, murderers, rapists, people like that. And you can say I'm a hypocrite, or whatever you want. But this is who I am. It's who I've always been. And I like it.” He glared at her, daring her to say something.

“So you’re like Batman.” she said after a while. He gave her a confused look, she sat up, turning to face him fully. “Like Batman. A Vigilante. You know, someone who takes the law into their own hands, cuz they think the law officials can’t or won’t do it.” Harry chewed on his tongue thoughtfully for a moment, before nodding.

“Batman….I like that. Yeah. We’re like Batman…...So since your idea isn't possible, would you wanna try mine?” she shrugged. “You ever smoke weed before?” he asked her. Clara shook her head. “figured,” he went into the bathroom, Clara heard him rummage around and when he came back out he had a little ceramic bowl in his hand and a lighter. He sat on the edge of the bed beside her. “If you're okay with this and you want to try it we will. It might help you relax, it works different for everyone. But it’s been known to treat anxiety and depression…..We can’t just go out and get your medicine so, this would be the next best thing."

“I want to.” Clara said in a small voice.

“We’re gonna do something called ‘shotgunning’. That's where I inhale the smoke and then blow it in your mouth, you inhale and hold, then release. Since it's your first time I don't want you to get too fucked up.” he raised the bowl in his hands, she didn’t like the way it smelled. It stunk. “If we do it my way I’ll be able to atleast kind of control the amount you take in. And since you’ve never done it before you won’t need much. Just a little hit to take the edge off and see how you like it. If I just let you straight up hit it you might go too hard and end up sitting in a corner too high to move.” she looked at him in horror. “It’s cool. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen to you, like it did to me my first time.” she nodded in understanding. “I’m only offering because I can’t have you running around here having a panic attack and drawing attention. You’re almost home free. Don’t want to ruin that now do we?”

“I guess not.”

“Good. Give me your hand.” Clara held out her hand and Harry took her thumb and first finger making an ‘o’ shape. He intertwined her three other fingers with his own and made the ‘o’ shape with his fingers. “When I start to lean in, you do it too, and I’ll blow the smoke through my hands into your mouth. Inhale as much as you can. Hold it for like, thirty seconds I guess, and then exhale. I’ll go slow.” Clara adjusted herself, sitting up on her knees. Harry brought the lit bowl to his lips and took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving Clara. She watched him, fascinated as he made a squeaking, sneezing sort of sound and closed his lips, holding his breath.

He leaned in and she pressed her fingers to her lips.

His breath was cool as it hit her parted lips, she inhaled, eyes beginning to water, and almost choking, it sort of burned. Harry breathed slow and she expanded her stomach until she couldn’t take anymore. She pulled away, releasing their hands and held her breath. Harry stood, going to the mini fridge to grab a bottle of water just as she began coughing and sputtering. She felt like her throat was bleeding, it really hurt. Her ears felt like they needed to pop. But as she coughed, she felt the pain beginning to fade, like she was stepping outside of her body, she knew it was happening, but the pain was becoming distant. The waves of anxiety were pulling further and further back. Harry walked back over, handing her the bottle of water. She took it gratefully.

“How are you feeling?” he asked her. Her eyes felt heavier, almost as though she were squinting at him.

“Good. The waves are gone.” Harry looked at her for a moment, opened his mouth, then closed it again before turning to grab his duffel bag.

“I’ll be back in a few hours. You’ll probably be sleeping. I’ll try not to wake you.” Clara waved her hand at him as she fell back against the bed. She felt light, like she was floating. Her legs tangled and her body felt pain free. It was a nice feeling.

Harry shut and locked the door behind him.

And it led him here. To this shitty motel in the middle of Bumfuck,Egypt.. He had watched them for the last day, his damsel and her captor. He looked like a dick. He was the tall, athletic, frat boy type. Definitely a fuck boy. But he was bigger, and Alex was smart, if he couldn’t take him he would wait until he left. And when he saw him climb into that shitty van and drive away, he knew it was his chance.

Alex had been searching for Clara since the news broke she was missing. He was angry. Someone else had gotten her first. And at a fucking gas station! Really?! But that wasn’t going to stop him. He would rescue his damsel and she would be grateful, loving even. Happy to share her life with him. He scoured every news report he could find, made a special website dedicated to finding her and sorted through tip after tip, focusing on only the most logical ones.

He stepped out of the bushes, knife in hand and duplicate keycard in the other. He smirked, thinking of how gullible the front desk clerk had been. She hadn’t even asked for his I.D. Too busy on her phone. You can’t get good service anywhere these days. He stalked up to the door and pressed his ear to it. He couldn’t hear her, but he knew she was in there. The smell of marijuana wafted through the door. He inhaled deeply. God was smiling on him today. That was sure. This would be way too easy.

He looked so different. He was pale, gaunt and had dark circles under his eyes, light stubble on his cheeks. His hair was even more shaggy and unkempt, a wild look in his eye as he held up the knife in his hand. He looked like he hadn’t changed his clothes in days. Alex. Collins. Had found her. She sucked in a sharp breath.

Clara was flushing the toilet when she heard the door open. She rolled her eyes, hiking her pants up and buttoning them, before swinging the door open. “Did you forget…..some….thing….”The words died on her tongue when she saw him.

“It’s all right.” he said, holding up his hands, talking to her in a calm voice, like she was a scared animal. “Everyone’s been looking for you. We’ve all been worried.”

“How did you-”

“Come on Clara, you know me,” he rolled his eyes, stepping closer to her, she took a step back in reflex. “You know I’ll never let you go. You can run, you can hide. You can move three or four fucking states-leave the country even! And I will always find you. I’ll always be here.” he smiled at her, “And you know why?” he tapped the knife against his temple, “cuz I’m in here. I’ll always be in here.”Clara felt a hard surface behind her. Shit. Alex grinned, stepping closer still and placing the knife against the base of her throat. “You’ll never be rid of me.” Something sharp poked Clara in the side, she reached up, trying to hit him, but he blocked her hand with his arm. Her eyes widened as she saw the tip of the needle he’d had hidden in his sleeve. She grabbed at him, her legs suddenly felt like jello, he backed up and she fell forward, onto her knees. “Nighty Night.” the floor came rushing towards her, but darkness met her first.  

Clara was standing at the beginning of a long pier. Ahead of her she someone. A woman, in a black dress, long brown hair flowing behind her. Leah. She began to run. Calling out to her lost lover. The more she ran the further Leah seemed to get-

One. She wasn’t in the motel room anymore.

“Wake up.” Clara groaned, someone was shaking her shoulder, making her brain bounce around inside of her head. It hurt to open her eyes, but when she finally did, and they adjusted she realized two things.

Two. She was chained to a mattress, Her arms hanging from the headboard.

She looked over to see the face of her nightmares. Alex stood over her, he had been the one shaking her, Clara tried to scream, only to feel a gag covering her mouth. Panic began to snake up her body, lighting her on fire with adrenaline. Alex walked around to the front of the bed. Towering over her like the boogeyman.

“Now, I understand if you still don’t trust me….I’ve done some things that….You might not agree with.” Clara snarled, her eyes narrowing. Alex ignored her. “But you’ll see soon enough, that it all came from a place of love. I mean look at you!” he shouted, pointing at her, “I saved you! That man! He would have killed you! Or left you to die! I would never! I found you! I saved you!” He came back around toward her, and sat next to her on the bed. He looked at her with a tenderness that made her want to puke, she was repulsed, disgusted and her heart ached. She couldn’t look at him without thinking about Leah. What he had done to her.

“Now I love you. And I hope you see….I hope you see what I’ve been trying to tell you all along. That you love me too.” he pulled the gag down off of her mouth. Clara sighed in relief, her jaw ached. “Tell me. Tell me you love me.” she hawked a big loogie, and spit it at him.

Rage flickered over his face, it passed quickly, before he stood, scratching the back of his head. “I hate you. Fuck you.” she spat again. He tsked, shaking his head.

“I was hoping we wouldn’t have to do this. But I can’t have you trying to run away.” He pulled a thick board from beneath the bed, and something else, that dangled from his arm, just out of Clara’s sight. She glared at him, resilience conquering her fear. “You ever see the movie Misery?” Clara had. She hated it. But she didn’t answer him. “This kind woman saves her favorite author from a snowstorm and he’s ungrateful. So she punishes him. So he’ll see that she loves him. She just wants him to be happy with her and make things right.” They must have seen two very different versions of that movie. “You know what she does when she finds out he snuck out? She hobbled him.” And it was that moment, that Clara realized just what he was intending to do. She squirmed, trying to get away, only then did she realize her feet were chained too. He sets the board between her ankles. “Don’t squirm or I’ll miss and it’ll be worse." Tears streamed down Clara's face, loud, broken sobs escaping her throat. Alex lifted the sledgehammer over his shoulder with both hands.

“Alex! Please!” Clara cried out for mercy. He shook his head, face unchanging.

“You’ll learn to like it here. Or at the very least, you’ll learn to see things my way.”

He brought the hammer down.

Harry felt good. Blood splattered his shirt and his chin, his hands were covered in the dried substance. But he felt relief, a good kill was kinda like sex. It released the tension. He could focus all of his anger. All of his hate. All of his rage. That’s why he was so good at it. He could focus and then disassociate quickly when it was over.

But this time was different. He worried about Clara. He’d called the hotel room a couple times, she didn’t answer, so he figured she fell asleep. But that didn’t sit right with him. It wasn’t as late as he’d expected, surely she’d still be up. He shook his head. He didn’t even know why he was worried, what did it matter, tomorrow he’d be leaving her at a bus station with a ticket and going to his own home.

He did feel kind of bad for lying to her. But he didn’t know what else to do. If she knew that the real reason he took her was to use her, in case the cops caught him, she could freak. So he shouldn’t feel bad for wanting self preservation. But he did.

And he couldn’t stop thinking about her life. About her anxiety, and how she, like him, had lost someone who meant the world to her. He shook his head, trying to get her out of his mind. She was nineteen and he was twenty five. Not to mention he kidnapped her! There was no way anything could ever come from that. Nothing good anyway. He was the bad guy. The bad guys never get the girl.

He pulled up to the motel room and parked the van, slamming the door as he stepped out of it. But when he saw their room, he dropped his keys and ran inside.

The door was standing open, and when he went in Clara was gone. All of his things were there, everything was in order. She was just….. gone. He cursed and ran a hand through his hair, jogging outside to pick up his keys and come back in. Maybe she took off on her own. He thought. Saves me a trip to the bus station. He tried to feel some sort of relief, but it didn’t come. There was a feeling of dread in the room, and when he almost stepped on the syringe on the floor, he knew. He knew Clara hadn’t gone of her own free will. What the fuck happened? He fell back onto the edge of his bed, holding the syringe in his hands. There was a bit of liquid still inside. He watched it move as he tilted it back and forth in his hand.

Clara learned fast early on. Just submit and she wouldn't be punished.

Six Months Later:

The hobbling wasn’t even the worst of the things Alex had done to her. He completely stripped her of her identity. Bit by bit. To the point that she no longer even spoke. Just limped around with her head down and her mouth shut. The abuse she faced was almost always psychological, only getting physical when she really infuriated him.

If she screamed or fought he drugged her. If she cried out he would hit her harder, if she didn’t do what she was told he’d cuss her up and down until he was blue in the face. Only to turn around and tell her how much he loved her, and how he just wanted her to be happy with him. She tried to be strong, to be brave at first, but he learned of her phobia and her anxieties, and he would often play on those to keep her in a submissive, and docile state of being.

Alex had forced her to watch as slowly, little by little, news coverage and search parties dwindled. He told her her parents thought she was dead, that no one was looking for her, and eventually all the hope left her. She shut off, and became even more of a shell of herself.

The more docile she became, the more freedom she had. She was never allowed outside, but she could peak out the window. She was no longer chained to her bed at night, but he did lock her door. If he needed to leave she could wander about the house, but was locked up if he had guests. This was her life now, and her week as Harry's hostage, faded into obscurity.

Clara. Leah. Harry. Alez. None of that was real anymore. She had completely dissociated from who she had been. She was beyond numb. She had become hollow.

[lovemesomesurveys]

This may or may not get personal. Are you ready? Ya’ll know I already share quite a bit in my survey answers, so.

How old are you turning on your next birthday? 32. D:

Do you have a favourite film, if so, what is it and why? I have many. Hard to choose just one favorite, there’s a lot of great films. 

When was the last time you had sex? Never.

Did you want it, or did the other person want it?

Have you ever had that one friend who complained about everything? I have. It got quite exhausting.

Were you ever that friend? I really try not to be a complainer and keep a lot of it to myself. At least to other people, ha I complain a lot in surveys and Twitter. That’s different, though, it’s complaining to the void.

What is the next film you want to see in the theaters? So many movies were supposed to come out that I wanted to see, but who knows when theaters will be able to safely open back up. A lot of movie release dates keep getting pushed back as well, so there wouldn’t be too many movies to see right now anyway. 

Be honest, did Fifty Shades of Grey arouse you in any way? I can’t believe I read that series, first of all. Second of all, I will admit to feeling some type of way at times :X I saw the first movie and it was so cringe that I didn’t see the others.

What does your sibling(s) call you? Steph.

Do you believe in God or Fate or neither? I believe in God.

Do you have any close friends that are the opposite sex that your significant other dislikes? I don't have a significant other or friends, so no problem there.

Do you honestly believe everything happens for a reason? Why or why not? I do.

Did you ever play Truth or Dare? Yeah.

If so, what was the worse thing that has happened because of it? I never chose dare, so nothing. The few times I’ve played didn’t last long either, so not much happened anyway. It got old quickly.

Ever played seven minutes in heaven? No.

Do you believe in reincarnation? Why or why not? No.

The Hunger Games or The Maze Runner? The Hunger Games. I never read or saw The Maze Runner.

Have you ever been to Australia? No.

If not, would you like to go? Sure.

To what state would you like to go in Australia? Hmm. Perhaps Queensland or New South Wales.

What about America, have you ever been? I’m American. 

If not, would you like to go to America?

To what state would you like to go in America? There’s several states I’d like to visit, one being New York.

Has there ever been a time you were scared of a stranger? Yes. I’ve felt uncomfortable in public situations where I got bad vibes or sensed something bad.

Has anyone you’ve known claimed to be psychic? No.

Did/do you believe them? --

Have you ever had a beer bong? No.

What about a bong? No.

Do you even smoke? Not anymore, but I did a few times in my early 20s.

Is anything annoying you right now? Not at the current moment.

Any friends who are constantly venting about their boyfriend?

Have you ever been ice-skating? Nope.

Does the sound of rain at night help you sleep? I love the sound of rain, but I always have earphones in at night so I wouldn’t hear it.

Have you ever seen an albino person, in person? Yes.

Have you ever worn a pair of scrubs? No.

Do you obsessively apply lip-gloss or lip balm? Nope. I should apply it at least sometimes because my lips do get dry often.

Anything in your room that you’re hiding from your parents or someone else? Nah.

Have you ever walked into a massive cobweb? EW, yes. 

When you can tell that someone’s lying, do you call them out on it? Ehhh, it depends.

Have you ever hallucinated? No.

How are you? Been feeling under the weather the past week.

What would you say is your strongest felt emotion right now?   I just feel meh.

Have you ever felt abandoned?   Yes.

Where are you? I’m in my room.

Have you ever wished on a shooting star?   No. I’ve never even seen one.

Did it come true?  

Are you talking to anyone at the moment?   Nope.

What’s been the worst part of this day? Today was okay.

Do you have trust issues?   No. My issue is that I just have a hard time opening up to people and expressing myself. I don’t like the focus and attention on me and talking about myself, despite what you might think since I do a lot of that in surveys. But to me it’s like writing in a diary or shouting into the void even though people obviously read and see my answers. However, I’m not talking to someone and expressing my feelings and thoughts face to face and getting a response (though sometimes people comment on something I said, but you get what I mean) or seeing their reaction or anything. It’s different.

Have you ever found an arrow head?   No.

Who is with you?   My family is home, but they’re all in their rooms asleep.

What can you not stop thinking about?   A lot of things. My mind is a jumbled mess. Stuff plays on a loop.

Is there anything you want or need right now?   I’m hungry, but I don’t want to make my nightly bowl of ramen quite yet. I have a schedule I like to keep, so I make it around the same time every night. I still have like an hour and a half to wait.

Do have faith in yourself?   No. :/

What about your goals?   I don’t really have any. :/

Who last encouraged you to better yourself?   My family has always been encouraging and supportive and want the best for me.

Do you forgive easily?   I do. 

What has changed about you recently?   Nothing. That’s the problem. 

Anything your excited about or looking forward to?   No. I’m sad that last year around this time my family and I were planning our trip to Disneyland and we were super excited. It was fun having something like that to look forward to. This year there isn’t anything.

Have you ever been called a slut or whore?   Just jokingly with friends.

What was the last thing that aggravated you?   Mehh. I just get in these moody and irritable moods a lot for seemingly no reason and because of that anything can irritate me.

In what part of your life so far, have you learnt the most about yourself?   I have in some ways these past few years. Are you more sad or happy right now?   Sad.

Have you ever been in a fist fight?   Nope.

Are you comfortable?   I’m alright. 

Who do you miss?   My loved ones who have passed.

Are things easier said than done? That’s true for a lot of things.

What aggravates you most about people in general?   The close mindedness and people just following along with the herd without looking into things themselves and forming their own opinions. Too many people just go along with stuff and they don’t seem to know what’s really going on. So much misinformation gets spread that way, too.

Are your ears pierced?   Yeah, my earlobes are.

What did you last say out loud?   “Goodnight.”

What are you waiting on?   I’m waiting to make my ramen.

What’s on the t.v. at the moment?   King of Queens.

Do you like anything about being angry?   No? It’s not a pleasant feeling.

Who did you last hug? My mom.

Did you have a summer job this year?   I’ve never had a summer job. Or a job, ever.

What do you smell right now?   Nothing at the moment.

Where do you wish you were?   I’m fine where I’m at.

The last thing you did before this?   My mom and I caught up on one of our shows we watch.

Do you get surprises often?   No.

Name a crime you have committed?   Downloaded music and movies. I’m real rebel.

Do you tell people when they get on your nerves? I have when it was my brother, but typically no I don’t. 

Do you have any regrets?   I have many. :/

Are your feelings hurt easily? I’m sensitive. Sometimes more than other times.

What is your stance on keeping gifts or mementos from past relationships? I’m someone who keeps stuff like that.

Have you ever hooked up with someone that one of your close friends had already dated or hooked up with? Nope.

Have you ever disowned/been disowned by a family member? No.

What's the most expensive piece of clothing you have? Did you buy it yourself? My Adidas tracksuits and sweatshirts that were gifted to me from my parents.

What brings out the best in you? Hmm.

Who is your closest platonic friend of the opposite sex?

Have you ever taken a break in a relationship with the intention of getting back together? How did it go? No, I haven’t been in that situation. 

When was the last time you were ill? I feel crappy a lot of the time, but the last time I was sick-sick was back in October. 

How do you think your first relationship shaped who you are as a partner now? I haven’t had a real relationship to be honest. At 31 years old and very little experience with that kind of thing, that certainly will play a role if I do ever have a relationship. 

What is the worst thing you've done to another person? I completely withdrew and distanced myself from my friends a few years ago. I’m such a shitty person.

Who is your favourite protagonist of the same sex? Leslie Knope or Lorelai Gilmore. <<< Lorelai Gilmore is definitely one of mine, too. I have many favorites, though.

Were you popular in high school? What was your reputation like? Haha no, not at all. 

Have you ever sent someone naked pictures? No.

What app needs to be invented ASAP? I don’t know. There seems to be an app for everything.

Have you named any of your posessions? Stuff like my stuffed animals.

Have you always known your sexual orientation or did something happen to make you realize it? It wasn’t something I thought about until I started getting into boys and having crushes, which was when I was in the 3rd grade.

What make up do you wear on a regular basis? I don’t wear makeup anymore.

What was the hardest part of your last break up? When Joseph decided he was done with whatever it was we had going on and that he didn’t feel the same way I did and had no interest in being in an actual relationship with me, I took it very hard because I had been very clear and open with my feelings and that was very hard for me to do. I laid it all out there, mustering up the courage to do so, and got rejected. He completely played and used me, knowing how I felt, and it hurt. A lot.

What brought you out of the hardest period in your life? I’m still going through it. These past few years have really done a number on me.

Have you ever deleted your Facebook or other social media? Nope.

Have you ever lost or gained weight very quickly? What happened? I became underweight a few years ago due to health reasons and I haven’t been able to gain weight and get back to a healthy weight. 

[meganshinsou-tm]

Sugarcoated. (m)

↳ chapter seven: quitting time

❧ genre: pro-hero hitoshi, adoptive siblings, happy ending

❧ chapter warnings: sexual/physical assault, mild blood, physical altercation

[multi-chap masterlist] [previous chapter - next chapter]

"Good morning beautiful, here I got you some breakfast!"

Jumping into Hitoshi's vehicle you smiled and took the small bag he handed to you. Looking inside you squealed upon seeing a bacon, egg and cheese bagel and let your head fall back to the headrest as a dramatic "yum" left your mouth.

The hero chuckled and ordered you put the seat-belt on and took off into traffic after you did. It was now Wednesday and for the past two days the man had drove you to and from work, he didn't stay your entire shift like he wanted because you so eagerly begged him not to, instead he compromised to show up only two hours before your shifts ended. You helped closed and it was usually just you, one other coworker and your boss at the end of the night.

Hitoshi would sit in his corner with his laptop and do some work away from the agency since he was taking this time off to supervise you basically. On Monday you tried to tell Lee that Thursday would be your last day at the establishment but he for once was occupied with work issues. Tuesday you tried again, always failing because an issue would pop up, you'd get caught up with a customer or he would be out of the office. Today though you planned on telling him no matter what, even if it meant marching into his office yourself, a place you've never been in because honestly you were too scared that something wrong would happen.

"So when I drop you off today, I'll come up and help you start packing some of your things so we can start getting them moved over and not have to tackle it all on Friday. Sound good?"

You looked over, mouth full of food and nodded. Hitoshi shook his head and smiled as he braked for a stop light, he placed an elbow on the console and told you to come closer. You hesitated but did so, swallowing your food harshly as you leaned over. He grabbed your chin and pulled your cheek to him, his breathing fanned your skin and you gripped the bagel in your hands. 

You felt the tip of his tongue glide extremely close to the corner of your mouth. Your hands completely obliterating the food in your grasp now, squeezing it to bits, egg and bagel falling apart in your lap as your eyes widened and you breathed in through your nose sharply.

"There, you had a little bit of egg on your face. It's gone now!" He smirked and released you, sitting back in his seat and pressing the gas as the light turned green.

A violent chill crawled down your spine and you wiped where he licked with a growl, glaring at the smug hero who was so pleased with himself.

"What are you, a fucking dog?"

You sighed and sat back on your feet after being on your knees behind the counter and cleaning up a mess of coffee grounds that were spilled all over the floor. It was only a few minutes until closing time and Hitoshi still hadn't showed up, before your head could start thinking the worst the phone in your apron started to ring. Looking at the ID you sighed and answered it.

"Toshi!"

"I'm sorry sweetness, I've been stuck on a mission for the past few hours and just got off. I'm heading that way right now. Are you okay?"

"Yeah hero, I'm fine. Just about to start closing up now."

"Have you told your boss yet?"

"Kind of but I don't think he took me seriously?"

"Okay well, don't push it anymore till I get there, I'll try and talk to him. I don't want you bringing up the issue when I'm not around, just to make sure he stays in his own fucking lane."

You laughed and fidgeted with your skirt agreeing with him. He let you know he'd only be maybe ten minutes and you both said goodbye. With a groan you rose to your feet and gathered the dust pan you had swept all the grounds into and dumped it into the trash can and went about your closing duties.

"Hey (Y/N), Mr. Lee needs to see you in his office. I'll take over from here until you get done."

You looked up to see your coworker walking into the main floor and nodded. As you both met in the middle you asked her to notify Shinsou of where you were in case he showed up before you were done. With a smile she agreed and you made your way to the back room and to the door you dreaded to enter. Standing before it you wiped your clammy hands on your apron and took a deep breathe, raising a trembling fist up to the door you knocked lightly.

"Come in (Y/N)."

Before opening the door you looked to the ones that separated the main room from the back and said a silent prayer that things would go over smoothly and your hero would be there soon. 

You stepped into the room, making sure to leave the door wide open and took a seat before the boss's desk. He finished typing away on his laptop and pushed it aside and turned to face you. A genuine smile crossed his face and you returned him a half smile.

"I'm sorry I've been so tied up all week and haven't been able to give you my full attention. You've been trying to tell me something?"

"Uh – yes sir I have, it's actually really important and now urgent," you replied softly but seriously and picked at your finger nails.

"Well what is it again?"

"Tomorrow will be my last day here Mr. Lee, I found another job. Like you said, I've been trying to tell you all week and I really hate that I'm just now being able to bring it up to you, only a day before but it couldn't be helped."

Your boss didn't reply right away, he leaned back and crossed his arms behind his head. His eyes wondered over you as he chewed on the inside of his cheek and let out an aggravated sounding hum and you looked at him apologetically.

"Well I can't say that I'm happy to hear this, you are one of my best workers and you seem to bring in a lot of the business we have, not to mention you are one of my favorites."

"Well I'm sure you'll find someone else who is just as good, maybe even better."

"Maybe. May I ask where you're going? This is kind of sudden," he asked leaning forward onto the desk.

"It's nothing special, just a nanny job. I'll be getting free room and board along with getting paid so I kind of jumped at the opportunity since I'm struggling at the moment."

"Well all you have to do is come to me (Y/N), I'm sure I could help you out, maybe loan you some money."

You swallowed harshly and protested while shaking your head, your heart beat a little faster as anxiety started to settle in. Your phone pinged and you immediately took it out of your apron, excusing yourself briefly to check the message.

➥ Toshi: Almost there, once again I'm sorry for being late, I'll make it up to you with food, sound good halfling? :)

You smiled and calmed down, knowing that any minute Hitoshi would be arriving. Mr. Lee cleared his throat, obviously not liking how he was being ignored.

"I'm sorry Mr. Lee. That's all I really needed to tell you, unless you need something else I should really be going and helping close up." 

You rose from your seat and curtsied for some reason. The man behind the desk rose with you and nodded. Before you turned to walk for the door he stopped you with a question.

"Where is that hero at? I haven't seen him since he dropped you off. Doesn't he usually show up before now?"

"Uh – actually," you swallowed harshly not sure of what to say, you were honestly a terrible liar and the nervousness you felt at the moment wouldn't help to shield that.

Mr. Lee walked around the desk and closer to you. Your blood started to run cold while you took steps closer to the door, but his steps were bigger and faster. Now we was face to face with you, his dark eyes staring down and paralyzing you from moving another inch.

"I don't really appreciate how he just hangs around here lately."

"Mr. Lee, I really need to –"

"Shut up, I'm talking. He chauffeur's you to and from here doesn't he, what is he to you huh?"

You looked at him not answering, he quirked a brow and nudged your cheek with his knuckle and tilting his head as if telling you to speak.

"Oh am I allowed to talk now," you retorted, an attitude suddenly sparking in you.

"He's only treating you so well because he wants one thing kitten. At first he had to pay for your attention, and now your just throwing it in his face like some little slut. Has he fucked you already?" 

The man was slowly backing you up against a wall, when you tried to sidestep his strong arm trapped your head and his foot kicked the door, slamming it shut.

"First off, you have no right talking to me like that, I don't care who you think you are. Second, my personal life is none of your goddamn business. This conversation is getting extremely inappropriate and I'm feeling uncomfortable. Now, kindly step the fuck off and let me out!"

The mans eyes got even darker, almost onyx like. His hand gripped your chin as he smacked your head back against the wall. You hissed, gritting your teeth and glared at him. Your hand moved to grab your phone but his free one stopped you before reaching it and pinned your wrist to the wall as he had done before. He licked his teeth and smirked, leaning closer his nose ran down your jawline and his teeth nipped at your skin. You started to tremble with fear and didn't make a move.

"You're not leaving just yet kitten. Since I've been given such short notice of your departure, I'll be shorthanded until I can fill your position and your absence is going to cost me money since those other bitches don't look half as good as you do."

"Is that supposed to fucking flatter me? I can't help it that this is a shitty place to begin with, that's your fucking problem, not mine!" You hissed.

He chuckled and squeezed your chin and wrist even tighter and stared you in the eyes. "Oh but it is, normally two weeks notice is preferred so things like that can be avoided. So how about we work out an agreement, since you only shake your cute little ass for paying customers, you shake it for me in lieu of the money I'll lose as repayment."

"You're delusional. I said to fuck off!"

"I guess I'll just have to persuade you then!"

It all happened so quickly, one second your feet left the floor and the next your back and head was slammed against a hard surface. Groaning and rubbing the back of your head you looked around to see your boss now hovering over as you were laid on his desk. Your skirt had flown up in the commotion revealing what was underneath, quickly your hand flew to lower it and cover yourself but he quickly pinned your hands above your head.

"Get off of me you sick fuck!"

A massive hand found its way around your throat, gripping harshly and slightly cutting off your airway. "I told you that mouth was going to get you in trouble one day. Now just relax kitten, you'll feel good, I promise!"

Your free hand desperately clawed at his wrist and you felt tears streaming down your face as he released your other wrist, that free hand now running up and down your sides before roughly groping your breast. 

A surprised squeal rolled in your throat and he groaned, pulling you up by the throat he placed a sloppy and rough kiss to your lips. Your teeth gnashed against each other and you fought to keep your lips sealed tight, pushing against his chest. He seemed to enjoy your fighting back as he chuckled and started to kiss further down your jaw and neck, your fingers clawed at him desperately trying to push his face away.

"Please, Hitoshi ..." you cried out looking away and hoping the hero was around to hear.

Lee's fingers were suddenly in your mouth, making you grunt and go silent.

"Oh no kitten, you say my name!" He growled as his hand on your breast squeezed again.

Hot tears were flowing and your chest heaved. You were absolutely powerless under this man, he was too strong but he didn't have power over your voice. You shook you head and remained silent, only breathing harshly around his fingers and sniffling. Your hands gripped at his wrist holding him back from entering his fingers any further down your mouth.

"Don't worry, I know how to get it pouring from that pretty little mouth."

His hand trekked from your breast and down your side, towards your inner thigh where he popped the garter belt on your stockings. You shook your head and pleaded a muffled 'no' as the hand kept trailing closer and closer between your thighs, his fingertips barely brushing against your core. Out of pure fear you bit down harshly on his fingers, you could hear the crunch of a bone and flesh tearing in your ears. A loud yell was heard and the fingers were removed, as quickly as they disappeared a firm and harsh slap flew across your face. 

The pain was unbearable, your entire right side stung and went numb. Your hands flew up and were met with a warm liquid. Looking at your fingertips you saw blood, your stomach started to lurch and your heartbeat quickened. Loud yells and crashes were escalating but being muffled as you quickly slipped away into a darkness.

"Fuck! (Y/N), snap out of it. Wake – uh, yeah there you go. There's those pretty eyes!"

Slowly your eyes fluttered open, a bright light stinging them until it was blocked out by a tuft of purple hair. You went to move and winced at a pain ringing through your head.

"No, no, no. Don't move, just take it easy." Hitoshi cooed and lightly cupped your left cheek.

"Tosh, I want to go home. Please –" tears streamed down your face and you hid it in his chest trying to quiet your sobs, "Please just take me home."

Hitoshi could feel his heart breaking piece by piece, he clutched you to his chest, a hand rubbing your back as he buried his face in your mangled hair, letting his own tears fall into it and releasing a sweet scent. He'd never forgive himself for this day, for not being there in time. If it took the rest of his life he'd give his blood, sweat and tears to make it up to you.

"Of course sweetheart, we're going home."

A few minutes later you laid in the backseat of the jeep, red and blue lights flashed from outside of the windows. Police wanted to question you but Hitoshi refused to let them, he didn't want you to be pestered or bothered and just wanted to get you home as soon as possible. Before leaving though, the hero had to answer questions himself since he practically beat Lee to a bloody pulp. Leaning against the door of his vehicle he groaned and ran a hand through his hair and turned to look inside the window to check on you.

"I told you, I walked in to see him over her, she was crying and her face was bleeding, her clothes were all disheveled. It doesn't take a fucking genius to figure out what was happening! He's assaulted her before, last time it was just bruises around her wrists."

"Why didn't she report him then, if she felt in danger then why would she come back?" The officer questioned scratching the back of his neck.

Hitoshi was baffled by what he was hearing, "Are you seriously trying to blame her right now? Look, you know what, let's settle this the easy way, where is he?"

"Mr. Shinsou I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"I'm not gonna touch the piece of shit again, I just want to ask him a question."

The officer made a face, realizing what the hero was getting at. He waved Hitoshi over and they walked towards the patrol car that the man in question was contained in. Opening the door he was slumped back against the seat, his face swollen and bloody from the amount of hits Hitoshi had landed. His dark eyes met purple ones and he smirked.

"Lee, I'm gonna need you to answer Mr. Shinsou's question."

"Why the fuck would I do that?" The beaten man tried to choke out.

"What's you favorite ice cream?" Hitoshi suddenly blurted out.

Your boss looked at him with a quirked brow and confused look, "The fuck kind of – ngh."

Just like that, the mans eyes went blank and he shut up, Hitoshi smirked as he had the bastard under control of his quirk. "Now, tell the officer what your intentions were with (Y/N)."

"I was going to have sex with her."

Hitoshi grit his teeth, his grip tightening around the car door. His blood boiled and he wanted to rampage on the disgusting man before him. "Now I want you to answer one more question, did she at any point say 'no' or 'stop'?"

"Yes."

With that Hitoshi released the man and turned on his heels, leaving behind the police officer. 

"There, your job is done. I'll be checking in to make sure that piece of shit is dealt with correctly."

Hitoshi pulled up outside of his home, with a sigh he parked the vehicle and killed the engine. His ears could hear you breathing, slow and deep, and he looked back to see you cuddled up in the blanket the police officer gave him to cover your body. Your hair fell in your face, your lips parted as you breathed in and out, sleeping peacefully. The hero turned to face the steering wheel again, he crossed his arms leaning on it and quietly held back his cries. The image he saw when busting through that office door was forever burned into his head.

When he finally arrived to the café, Shinsou saw your coworker outside of the front door smoking a cigarette. He asked her where you were and once she told him he sprinted inside and through all the doors. He could hear your muffled cries, making his heart stop as he struggled to open the door, it was locked. He rammed his shoulder into it, getting it to budge just a little. Then he heard something that sounded like a slap and your yelp shortly after. The hero saw red and used all his force to bust open the door, upon stumbling in he saw Lee hovered over you. The skirt of your dress exposing everything, his hand gripping your thigh so tightly it would leave bruises. And your face, covered in tears and blood from a cut the split across your cheek. Without thinking Hitoshi attacked your assailant and it went downhill from there.

Taking a deep breath again Hitoshi finally got out of the vehicle. He opened the door to the backseat and stood there looking at you. Unsure of it was okay to even touch you, he slowly placed a hand on your foot, not wanting to touch your thigh or any other place that might seem inappropriate. He shook it gently while calling out your name. 

A gust of cold wind blew inside the jeep and made you shiver, your eyes slowly fluttered open as you could hear Hitoshi calling out your name and your body being shaken. Cuddling up more into the blanket you hunched over to see the purple haired hero standing at the end of the seat.

"We're home (Y/N), are you okay with me carrying you?"

You nodded and sat up, wincing as your body and face hurt. Shinsou reached out a hand and told you to be slow and easy and try not to push yourself. You scooted to the end of the seat and wrapped your arms around the heroes neck and your legs around his waist. He was planning on carrying you a different way but this was fine too. Grabbing the blanket he shroud it around you, wrapped an arm around your back and one under the thigh that wasn't bruised. He closed the door shut with his hip, locked it and proceeded to walk to his front door.

"Where are we?" Your tired and groggy voice asked as your chin rested on his shoulder, eyes wondering your surroundings.

"We're at my place. It was closer than yours, I hope that's okay."

"Yeah that's fine, the heat in my place went out the other day anyway so at least I'll be warm tonight."

Hitoshi shook his head and let out an aggravated sigh as he fished out his house key from his pocket. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

You softly chuckled and nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck while he unlocked the door and opened it. 

"You didn't ask."