#though i can’t stand ginger enough to have more than a couple mugs but still it was relieving while it lasted

[limewatt]

i want soup but i don’t have soup and i hate most soup

[inkedtae]

rupture; rapture ⇾ kth. [M]

𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ ex-boyfriend!taehyung x reader (f.)

𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾  one shot, angst, smut, f2l(?), e2l(?), ex lovers au, rekindled lovers(?), sculptor au, 18+

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ⇾  responding to a late night call for help forces you to revisit truths you so skillfully ignored. was it always meant to fall apart to fall back into place?

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ⇾ 13.2k

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ⇾ slight upsetting themes, mentions of a new relationship, mentions of infidelity (tae thinks reader used him to each on her date), vague mention of consuming alcohol, switch!Taehyung, mullet!taehyung, sub!reader, unprotected sex, rough sex, clay/paint/art sex(?), hate-love sex(?), makeup sex(?), size kink, oral (f. receiving), multiple orgasms (f.), creampie, overstimulation, a lil degradation, a lil face-licking, body worshipping, clit worshipping, a lil clit biting, choking, spanking, motorboating, begging, teasing, swearing, breath play, breast play

anon asked: taehyung19angst asghjkll. U have a prompt list ? So for that. Maybe. If u want to. WOW. Ur awesome. The bestest. Okay. Bye. Love. Me.

#19 ⇝ “You said you knew how to do this.”

𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇'𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 ⇾  i am aware this is supposed to be a drabble but that never seems to be even for taehyung so here’s a one shot instead. also sorry for writing this so late 

☾ banner by ⇾ @editingverse​ (thank you so so so much dear~ please go give her all your love!! this banner is beautiful!!)

☾ beta’d by ⇾ @kkulmoon​ (luff you, my soulmate crackhead~)

☾ le playlist

◖send me a prompt from dabble drabble. i will try to get to it as soon as i can. please note that i have the right to refuse any request i find uncomfortable.◗

Navigating to the chipped yellow door is second nature. Four months of distance does not change how easy it is for you to find your way to his place from across town. Your most haunting regret, however, is accepting his call. You sat around your apartment for months, fantasizing about how powerful you’d feel when your phone rings and you see his name flash only to decline the call. You told yourself that is how you will regain your dignity, how you will reclaim your life. He’s been a big part of it since freshman year. Best friends instantly, lovers only a year down the line. Clicking that red button, rejecting his apologies is how you believed you’d be able to move on and fully erase him from your life for good.

But, in the midst of a drink with someone else’s company, he calls and you do not refuse. Your heart flips only to fall and shatter in the pit of your stomach. You press the green button without much thought and bring the phone to your ear. He sounds so unsure, so nervous. A relieved sigh you didn’t realize you were holding escapes you. Eyes watering, you whisper his name.

The shame creeps upon you, condescendingly soothing your ego. Where’s your dignity now? It’s as nonexistent as when you stormed out of this very door and swore never to return. You can hear the fates snickering, watching your pathetic self stand outside of the door. Shaking out a shiver, you gather up the scattered pieces of your courage and knock on the door.

The screech of metal on metal echoes as he unlocks the door. The sound is more comforting than you expected it to be. You can’t remember the amount of times you’ve nagged him to replace the damned thing. It’s old, rusted, and the scratches of the metal make you cringe as though your bones are rotting. It used to make your jaw ache, now it only comforts you. Little things already undress your confidence. What will seeing him again do? What emotions will it beckon?

Misery leaks from your bones and into your bloodstream. The door opens to a vision of grace. In his clay-smeared jumpsuit, the sleeves wrapped around his waist and his bare chest exposed, he stares back at you. Though frozen from the winter air, you feel your face grow hot. Eyes shaking, you don’t know where to look. You’re not even sure if you can meet his gaze. It intensifies with every ticking second his long bangs fall over his lashes. He let it grow out? You’ve begged him to do so for months and once you’re apart he finally gives in? You knew he’d look good, maybe even better than his shorter cut.

The sight only confirms that you’ll never understand him. But, you suppose, you don’t have to. He’s not yours to understand anymore, not even as a friend. That statement should give you a sense of relief, but it only resurfaces the loneliness you’ve been ignoring for months.

Shakily sighing, you plaster a polite smile and greet, “Hey Tae.”

Taehyung parts his lips, but his voice catches. He stares back at you, gaze dancing up and down your frame. He drinks in the way your black dress pants hug your curves, and how you dare to wear a tube-top under your coat in the freezing weather. Gulping, Taehyung flashes you a kind, tight lipped smile and moves aside to welcome you in. His chain looped earring dangles with his movements. It’s such a simple antic, but you cannot fight off the familiar comfort in your chest upon catching it.

Each step back into his apartment fogs your mind with memories of joy and despair alike. Sometimes, those emotions rise in tandem during the same memory, within the same five minute time span. But other times, those memories are saturated with one emotion or the other. You two could never find that balance; not as lovers anyway, not as you thought.

“Make yourself at hom-” he cuts himself off just as the door shuts.

You turn to face him, raising a brow at his slip up. Funny how things circle back no matter how much either of you try to suppress them. This place has always felt like home to you. In fact, revisiting it proves that it still does. He just never let you make it official.

The gloom of four months ago has followed you back in here as well, it would seem. You gulp down the little scratch in your throat and try your best to flash a smile. His brows raise at the gesture. You assume a teeth braced wince paints your features instead.

Clearing his throat, Taehyung corrects himself, “Comfortable. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll grab you a hot drink to warm you up.” His gaze shifts to the slanted window over his little studio sectioned in the corner of his apartment. “It’s really coming down out there.”

Setting your clutch down on his work table, you nod. He glares at your action before looking back at you. You are fully aware of his distaste for you to dump your things near his work, even if it happens to be your own sculpting supplies. However, he distrubed your date tonight and that little slip up of his recalls more anger than you care to accept right now. Playing into his pet peeves is the very least you can do to show him that you’re not here for anything else but fixing his sculpture.

With a pleasant smile plastered on your lips, you peel your jacket off and set it down on the table as well. Taehyung sarcastically smirks then makes his way to the kitchen. You know you shouldn’t but you let your eyes linger on his frame and follow him around the kitchen while he prepares something for you. His shoulder blades flex as he reaches for a mug from the top shelf - a detail you always found makes you anxious because the cups can easily slip out of his hand from such a height and break.

He must feel your gaze as he glances back at you. “You must be freezing,” he comments.

Looking down at your half top, you shrug. “Not really. That’s what a jacket is for.” You shouldn’t sass. It always gets on his nerves. But, the way he regards you with such tamed hostility and smirks all knowingly, switches something in you. You cannot hold yourself back and he cannot expect to call you over here in the dead of night for help only to glare and sneer at you.

Out of sheer spite, you sit on one of the stools by the table and bend down to untie your thick heeled boots. He absolutely hates this. Sloppy and messy, is what he tells you when you come into the apartment with your shoes on and take them off near his studio. Taehyung stirs the contents of your mug, tossing daggers at you in his stares.

It is only now, in the thick silence, do you hear the soft voice of Sinatra through the vinyl player. Glancing over at the source, you recognize the album cover immediately. It’s the same one you gifted him for his birthday last year. His next one is in a couple of weeks. The realization unexpectedly twinges your heart with guilt. You feel as though you should have already bought his gift, and planned his party. It’s not your responsibility to do that anymore, but you want to and that’s enough for your tongue to coat with disgusted remorse.

“Want me to get you a sweater?” Taehyung asks.

You sit up straight at the close sound of his voice. He stands in front of you with the mug in his hands, glaring down at your boots. Kicking them off by the heel, you stare down at the puddle you’ve made beneath the chair. You should apologize but, instead, you thank him for the drink, take it from his hands, and make your way to the project he’s been working on. He mutters curses under his breath before cleaning up the mess you’ve made… As he should.

You smirk into your cup before taking a sip. Hot chocolate. It’s all he can make, or cares to make. And though it is not your favourite drink, he still prepares it to your specifications. Extra sweet and creamy, with a dash of ginger. Could the habits of your past be muscle memory he cannot shake either?

The answer never arrives as your thoughts halt at the sight of his sculpture. Though returned back onto its pedestal, the torso seems to have endured a terrible fall. He’s so careful about things like this. How could he have let it happen? Was the inner wiring he used too heavy? Did he not use enough slip, otherwise known as wet clay, to keep additions in place?

You bite the inside of your cheeks to school your features. Still, there is no hiding the truth. Especially when it’s right in front of you. Redemption is nonexistent. The sculpture is ruined. Tilting your head, you stare at the unfinished molding and try to figure out how to fix it without adding more clay, since he claimed on the phone that he doesn’t have enough to start over.

“Well?” He asks behind you.

Looking back at him, you take another sip then hand him the cup to hold. Taehyung accepts it, bringing the mug to his lips. The gesture is so simple, so casual that you almost miss it. He did it a lot when you two were together. You did it too. It was never a pet peeve but rather something you were proud of. It proved how close you two were, how well you meshed. Sharing food is common between lovers. Only now, that’s not at all what you are.

You stare at him, mouth gape. He licks his lips before taking another sip. The action repairs your heart only for your reality to wreck it all over again. Catching your eye, he raises his brows in confusion. You flicker your gaze between him and the cup, hoping the silent gesture is enough to return his senses.

Eyes widening, he holds the cup away from his face. “Oh,” he hums under his breath. “I’ll, uh, get you a new one.”

“Don’t bother,” you shrug before he can even turn towards the kitchen. “It’s not that big a deal.”

It is. You’re not his and neither is that hot chocolate. He should know better. He should pay attention more. He can see this all in your eyes as you continue to silently judge him. It’s not that big a deal, you repeat to yourself. The way his large eyes soften, the way he pouts is not that big a deal. You have a job to do, feelings to ignore, and a person to never see again. All you have to do is remold the clay and be on your way.

Finally returning your attention to the sculpture, you approach it while pulling your hair back. It’s rather large since he scaled it to be life-sized, so you assume he has some structural wiring in there to keep it in place when molding. You might have to take it out and remold the entire section. But maybe you can simply push the wiring back in place? However, if your theory about the wiring being too heavy is correct, you might face another smash to the floor. So it seems easier to just pull it all out.

“Is the clay still wet?” You ask before poking the shoulder.

It’s tacky, but that’s not enough to keep it from drying. You scan the room for the spray bottle, finding it behind you. Being a sculptor yourself, you know that the clay has to stay wet enough to be able to continue to add and mold it. Your scan of the room reflects that he is close to finishing the project. He has the muse’s head and arms wrapped in air-tight bags to keep them from drying. They just need to be slipped, slid, and smoothed into place. The details also need to be added, but for the most part, he’s just about done.

“If you’re gonna figure it out yourself, why did you ask me?” He sighs as he sets the mug down near a cup of paint water.

His tone is uncalled for. Nothing seems to have changed. He still has a temper and makes no effort to readjust his attitude. You toss him a glare over your shoulder. After spraying some water over the sculpture, you start to dig your fingers into the molding. Taehyung sucks in a sharp breath behind you. You can’t blame him for such a reaction. It must be very disturbing to watch someone else dig through your hard work.

You take off the clay bit by bit, looking for the metal structure wires he must’ve used to keep it all shaped well. However, as you place another chunk on the table, you begin to realize that the sculpture is not hollow, meaning wires have not been used. He simply ventilated the slab of clay to help air bubbles escape when it comes time to fire it.

Furrowing your brows, you look over at him in confusion. He leans back against his work table with his arms crossed over his chest, staring at you. Is this a joke? He doesn’t need your help. He could’ve dug through the smushed clay and remorphed it himself. He’s more experienced than you are; he should’ve known this.

Your anger begins to fester in your chest. He must’ve heard. You still share some mutual friends, so he must’ve heard down the line that you were going out with somebody else tonight. Your outfit of choice is a clear indicator as well. He found out about your date, your first date in the last four months you’ve been broken up, and just needed to ruin it for you. Fuck, you can’t believe you seriously bought his lies again. It’s that stupid voice of his. So deep and soulful, you can never resist it’s lulling temptations.

“What?” Taehyung pushes himself off the table and walks towards you. “You’re pouting like you always do just before you’re about to shout. Is it that bad?”

Is that what he’s doing now? He’s trying to remind you how well he knows you, how well he can read you? If this is just another reminder that no one is like him, you just might prove him right and scream out of frustration. Huffing, you roll your eyes at him. No matter how much your heart flips and flutters at his concern, you will not fall for his stupid games.

He watches in confusion as you clean your hands off with a cloth. “God, (Y/N), what is it? I thought you said you knew how to do this.”

With a dry chuckle, you shake your head and mumble, “You’re still the same liar you’ve always been, Taehyung.”

The perplexed sculptor narrows his eyes. “What did I tell you about mumbling?” He questions in a grumble. “And what the hell are you going on about anyways?”

His tendency to be a walking contradiction will never cease to irk you. He tells you not to mumble then does it himself. Just another pet peeve he’s instilled in you that you can never shake. Then there’s the continuous lies he can never seem to stop telling. For once, why can’t he just be honest?

You toss the dirty cloth at him and make your way to his precious work table only to find that he moved your things to the chair by the door. You rush in that direction instead, and Taehyung follows not too far behind. “I can’t believe you’re still pulling this shit even when it’s over,” you scoff with a shake of your head. “You made it seem like you had no idea what to do. You guilted me into coming back here and for what? To ruin the first night I stopped thinking about you? Well, congratulations,” you drily chuckle as you grab your clutch and turn to face him. “You’ve ruined my night and my date.”

Taehyung pauses mid stride. “Oh,” he rasps, eyes roaming over your body once more. “You had a date tonight?”

Eyes wide, softened, and wet, his next words catch in his throat. All you can make out is a quiet rasp. It’s a convincing act, but you know him well enough to spot his feigned innocence from a mile away. Setting your jaw, you shake your head and sigh, “Not any more.”

You reach for your jacket, but Taehyung is quicker. He snatches it first and holds it behind him. You open your mouth to curse at him when he rushes to say, “Wait, wait.” Hand on your waist, he holds you still.

You freeze under his palm. He’s barely used much force. It’s the simple touch itself that sends you into a trance. The memories of being pinned beneath him, or guided into grinding against his hips rush back to you. Breath hitching, you try to wipe the affection from your features. The searching look in his eyes tells you how bad of a job you’re doing.

“I could fix it myself, but not by myself,” he clarifies. “I just didn’t know how to get you here without making it seem like it’s a complete disaster. Be honest, (Y/N), if I told you I wanted you to sculpt with me you wouldn’t have shown up.”

Be honest. When the fuck have you ever lied to him? The question is tempting to ask, sitting right on the tip of your tongue actually, but you can already tell that you’ve made your annoyance known as concern swims in his eyes. He’s trying to find where he went wrong in his explanation. He’s never done that before. He never notices your discomfort during a fight, but always after the fact. That’s enough to have you consider his explanation, to consider the fact that maybe he has not changed completely, but he’s trying. Perhaps you should start trying too.

Besides, he’s not wrong. If he didn’t make it seem like it was irreversible, you wouldn’t have accepted the invitation over or even thought about ditching your date. Chewing on your lip, you sigh and nod. “Fine, I’ll help you fix it.”

A relieved smile plays on his lips. He removes his hand from your waist, muttering a quiet apology then returns your jacket onto the chair. You set your clutch down on there as well, nowhere near his work, and follow him back to the sculpture. He sprays it down as you take another couple of sips from your hot chocolate.

“When is this due?” You ask as you set the mug down.

Taehyung’s gaze shakes. “At nine,” he reluctantly replies. He sets the spray bottle down. You stare at him in confusion.

The time is both seemingly vague and specific. You furrow your brows, blinking rapidly in hopes that you can reprocess the information for more clarity. When that doesn’t work, you ask, “Tonight?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

Thirteen hours? That’s all you two have to remold and detail a life-sized sculpture. This information alone would’ve had you running to help as well. Why didn’t he just tell you this? Why did he have to lie? No, nevermind his lies. You both have thirteen hours to remold the base, attach the head and arms, and add all the details on all four pieces. It may seem like a lot of time but you also have to let the clay sit for a few hours before firing. However, with a sculpture this large, it might need at least three days to dry. How did he expect to finish the rest on his own?

Nothing is adding up. You know Taehyung very well. You’ve shared sculpting classes countless times. His work comes first; always. He sketches and prepares months in advance for a project since the clay can crack or explode during its bake. How could he not have done the same thing here? He should’ve started this at least four months ago… oh.

Taehyung spares you a nervous glance. He can see the realization of his own reality in your eyes. You swallow thickly, knowing you should just pretend that you haven’t noticed anything. Still, you say, “Tae, we both know that’s not enough time. Even if we split the work, it still needs-”

“Don’t worry about that,” he mumbles. His hands smooth over every chunk of clay he reapplies. “Let’s just piece it all together, okay?”

There is a lot you have to force yourself to ignore in his words and tone. He mumbles orders, and expects you to follow. His voice is deep and cold. He gives you his back while he speaks. It’s but another pet peeve of his that makes you want to pull your own hair out. However, most of all, you have to force yourself to ignore how painful it is. Seeing him again, only an arm’s length away, crumbles your anger and hearing his voice reminds you that he still holds every bit of your heart. You have to blink your tears back at the realization. This idea reeked the moment you considered it. But, you can never stop yourself when it comes to him. A year of friendship and two of love; how can you forget all of that in four months?

Taehyung turns to you, his eyes trailing up from your hips to your chest where they linger. Flickering his gaze back up to yours, he offers a tight-lipped smile. You fail to find it in you to return it. He sighs. Hands by his side, voice heavy with sincerity, he says, “I won’t force you to stay, babe- (Y/N).” His slip up has him frozen in place as well. Clearing his throat, he continues, “I need to get this done and you’re the only other person I know who knows how I like it.”

The familiar pet name gives you pause, but the end of that sentence has you hot all over. Your eyes widen at the alternate implication of his words and you can’t help but choke on your next intake of air.

Taehyung’s expression mirrors yours. Face reddening, he’s quick to correct himself. “No, no, I just mean artistically.”

You cannot find the words to say something, anything to make this situation better. Lips parted, all you can voice are quiet croaks of uncertainty. His large eyes, wide with anxiety, watch you carefully. He’s clearly unsure of how else to soothe your discomfort. He goes to say something else but the words fall short. The scene has your skin crawling with shivers. Shaking your head, you walk around him to smooth out the clay he remolded.

“I’ll fix her waist. I think you should get started on the details,” you say, hoping his words can just fizzle away along with the awkward silence that has fallen over the both of you.

Taehyung takes a deep breath. His eyes remain trained on you for a moment, watching as you match the sculpture’s left side to her right. Then, he circles around you and makes his way to his work table.

Though you should be focused on your work, you still have one eye on Taehyung. The jumpsuit sits low on his hips, and his back is bare of any scratches. Your lasting desire to mark up the blank canvas of his back tightens your core. You can feel your black pants dampening at the thought alone. Your hand gently presses into the mold, smoothing out every piece you add.

With Sinatra’s calm voice circling around the room, you and Taehyung fall into a comfortable silence. The rhythm of your actions, the way you move around each other is like muscle memory. You can subconsciously anticipate the other’s next move and react accordingly. He hands you tools before you need to ask and you accept them without a second thought. It’s easy, comfortable, and so familiar that you almost forget he ruined your plans tonight.

Taking a step back, you wipe your wrist over your brow then assess your work. You’ve been trying to sculpt one of the figure’s breasts, adding clay and rounding out the mold. However, it seems like you’ve undershot a bit and made one mound a bit smaller than the other. You sigh and reach for more clay when Taehyung interjects.

“Leave it,” he says from his place beside you.

When did he step back too? He was just detailing one of the sculpture’s hands. “They’re uneven,” you point.

He smirks. “I like them that way.”

His eyes flicker to your chest again before meeting your gaze once more. You shouldn’t look into that gesture too much, but you do. He can’t say something like that, stare at your breasts suggestively and think you wouldn’t notice. Unless, he wants you to notice. You start to wonder how often he’s thought about your breasts and why he feels the need to incorporate them into his project.

While you remain standing in your place, Taehyung returns to his crouched position and continues his work. You can’t bring yourself to move just yet. You stare at the sculpture, at the curve of her stomach and dip of her waist. She’s full-figured and even has stretch marks on her hips, well the side that has not met the floor still has stretch marks. You need to add them on the other side. But, the shape of her body just looks all too familiar.

No, no, it can’t be. He didn’t sculpt your naked body entirely from memory. And why should he? You’re not a couple and he’s made it clear during those four months of silence that he doesn’t want anything to do with you either. No, this is merely just some consequence. You sigh and get back to work. Those thoughts completely boarded shut out of your mind.

“Were you having fun?” He suddenly asks, standing up to start detailing the sculpture’s breasts.

You glance up at him, about to ask what he means when you remember the date. “Oh,” you hum. You’re not sure how much to tell him, or if you should even entertain him with an answer at all. He’s obviously still affected by the break up if he let it get in the way of his project timeline. What was your date’s name anyway? Morgan, Mac, Mark- Mark! Yes, it was Mark something or maybe something Mark. Fuck, you can’t even remember his name. You’re not even sure where you met up for drinks.

Taehyung pauses his sculpting around the figure’s nipple. He chances a quick look at you, raising a brow. “That bad?” He teases with a playful smile.

His light-hearted tone shocks you out of your thoughts. Maybe you read the situation wrong. Maybe he is over you. Otherwise, why would he ask you about your date so casually, like you two were friends? Or maybe… he’s seeing someone else himself? Sumni did ask for your permission to date him. She was so kind and understanding in her questioning that you couldn’t refuse her. Even if it was a week ago, she would have already talked to him by now and they could’ve already gone on their own date. The sheer thought of Taehyung dating around makes your throat tighten and stomach ache.

“I didn’t stay long enough to make up my mind,” you reply, trying your best not to mumble. Your voice is small though, and tone shot by misery. A wave of hopelessness washes over you at how final everything between you and him feels again. “I don’t think he’s for me though.”

Taehyung hums in acknowledgment or understanding? You don’t know. You can’t pull yourself out of your self pity long enough to decipher it. “Poor guy,” he mutters as he picks up where he left off on the sculpture’s breast.

You carve uneven lines on the figure’s hips, recreating some stretch marks like he had done to the other side. Raising your brows, you question, “What is that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs a single shoulder. “I just know what it’s like to lose someone as great as you,” he explains in a near whisper. “The poor guy is gonna lose his mind.”

Tears sting your eyes. He can’t do this. He can’t guilt you for leaving him, not when you both know that it’s just as much his fault as it is yours. Still, even in the midst of pain, the kindness laced in his words tugs the corners of your lips into a small smile. Is that what happened to him? Did this poor guy, this poor little sculptor lose his mind when he lost you?

You toss him a sidelong glance, whispering, “He’ll survive.”

“He can only pray to.”

What is this? What is he trying to say? So he regrets the way that things ended, perhaps even that they ended entirely. Does he think you don’t? Nothing can change how you feel for him. Nothing can hide how badly you wish you can still call him your own. But, he said it himself. He does not want you around, in such close proximity to him anymore. Two years into, what you thought was, a serious relationship and he does not want you living with him.

“I’ll grow tired of us,” he said. Or does he not remember? Did he forget how he promised he’d get you a key, or help you pack? Did he forget how high he got your hopes? Has the fear of getting bored of your company finally withered away?

What does it even matter now? You both said things you haven’t even attempted to take back. Not a single apology has been issued either. Whatever relationship you once had is gone. You can never get it back. Still, you don’t have the stomach to break it to him. You can’t destroy the last little bit of hope he has in you. You can’t find it in you to tell him that no amount of prayer will get you to willingly return to such a relationship.

“He hasn’t been in my company for too long to miss me. Actually, I’m worried he’s already grown tired of it,” you reply. Guilt immediately sheds your pettiness. You know you shouldn’t have said that. Though, he did egg you on. How could he have expected to bring up such a subject and think that you wouldn’t retaliate?

Taehyung tenses and shifts his jaw, giving the impression that he’s chewing gum, and turns to glare at you. From experience alone, you know very well that when Taehyung chews on his imaginary piece of gum, he’s either cocky, pissed or both. This time he has tears glassing over his eyes. Shame cringes your heart. You can’t bring yourself to look at him again. Getting even does not feel as dignifying as you thought it would. You cannot even find a shred of pleasure in seeing him so speechless.

Parting your lips, you try to soothe the sting of your words, only they all fall short. Every time you try to recollect them, they wither away. It’s almost like your mind is warning you from worsening the situation. But the silence is deafening. Sinatra's voice cannot even fill it. His disappointment is too loud; the shattering of his heart like an explosion. And your pain can never shut up. All you can hear is how miserable your soul is and how depressed your heart becomes upon every glance his way. It’s the soft look in his eyes, even when he’s glaring, and the little scrunch of his nose.

With a deep breath, you turn back to the sculpture to keep your hands busy. As you use the pad of your pinkie to smoothen out the stretch mark lines you’ve carved, you say, “We had a drink. That’s as far as we got.”

Taehyung clears his throat. His hands pick up where they left off around the nipple. “Had I known you were out, I wouldn’t have called,” he sighs.

You try not to scoff, particularly because he sounds surprisingly sincere. Sneaking a glance up at him from your squatting position on the floor, you try to search for his usual tell-tale signs. He always blinks one too many times in the same two minute span when he’s lying, that’s if he’ll even meet your gaze. He’s already looking at you when you begin to search his features. He holds your stare and you start to worry that you wrongfully cursed him before when you were convinced that he knew.

“You really didn’t know?”

He shakes his head. “Why would anyone tell me you’re going on a date?”

“Why wouldn’t they?”

“Would you want to hear that I have been on one?”

“Have you?”

Internally cringing, you snap your attention back on the sculpture. The question simply slipped out. He must know that. Of course you’re curious about his love life since you’ve left it, but you don’t need him to know that. And even if he was prying into your date tonight, you still don’t feel comfortable with him knowing that you’ve been wondering about him too, worrying that he’s found the love of his life and forgotten all about you.

Taehyung chuckles. “Do you really want to know?”

Three? Four? Five? How many dates did he have to go on to be able to ask such a question? You hold your breath the moment you feel your next intake waver. Running your tongue between the gaps of your teeth, you stand up and begin detailing the left breast.

“I’m not going to beg you,” you grumble under your breath while sculpting the nipple. Your eyes shift from the one you're working on to the one he perfected, making sure they’re at least even.

“Never had a problem with that before.”

He does not mutter it. He does not whisper it. He chuckles through the statement, cockiness dripping from his tone. Shooting him a glare, you find his jaw moving, the imaginary gum returning. Taehyung smirks at you, eyes dancing over your features like he’s figured you all out.

You raise your brows at him, lips slightly parted by a little smile. “Once again, Taehyung, your memory has miserably failed you,” you start only to widen his grin.

“How so?”

“You’ve been on your knees far more times than I’ve been on mine. You’ve whined louder too.”

He leans in, wrist against his stomach as he lets out a hearty laugh. You feel a rush of your arousal pool at your core just from the simple sound. Face growing hot, you realize how much you’ve missed this, missed him. He always laughed with his whole body, clutching onto you when clutching on his stomach never granted him any stability. Sometimes he’d brace his teeth in a boxy smile and let out his deep chuckles that way. So endearing, so cute, Taehyung would always loop you in his laughing fit as well.

Biting on the sides of your cheeks, you keep yourself from joining in this time. “Why is that so funny?”

Taehyung shakes his head at you as his laughter dies down. With a smile still gracing his features, he replies, “You’re always begging for me. Oh, I remember once you were on the table and you won’t let go of me and until I, and I quote, ‘rammed into you with the force of a thousand waterfalls.’”

Shit. You remember that day all too clearly. Taehyung had been painting and you were somewhere in the kitchen sketching his hands from a distance since he would always tease you about that. Somehow you found out he’d been painting you nude from memory and wanted to help him out. You began stripping for him, inching closer with every piece of clothing you shed. He watched you draw closer to him, and there was something about the way his eyes drank you in that you could not shake. It just made you giddy all over, dripping for his love by the time you were fully naked and within his reach. You were so horny, you said anything to make sure he ruined you.

Avoiding his eye, you reluctantly reply, “I do not recall.”

That statement tips him off immediately. His endearing innocence darkens; you don’t even need to look over to witness it happen. You can feel it. You can feel his demeanour change. Taehyung sets whatever tool he’s using down and towers over you. Stilling in place, you let him graze the bridge of his nose in your hair.

“Do you want me to remind you,” he whispers before pressing his lips to your ear, adding, “my muse?”

Knees all but trembling, you have to remind yourself to keep your eyes open. His warm breath fans over your skin, prickling goosebumps all over. His fingertips brush up the length of your spine, streaking your back with clay and leaving a chain of shiver in their wake. Then there’s that little pet name. Your soul shudders to hear it again while your core waters.

What does he even mean? How far is he willing to go to remind you how badly you wanted him?

Breath shaky, you gingerly meet his gaze. Noses brushing, you try to ignore how good he smells. His scent is always a cross between chalky clay and citrusy cherries. A whine threatens to slip out and you have to swallow thickly just to silence it. “You can try,” you whisper only to feel his hands on your hips.

The grey clay stains the hem of your black pants and a majority of your skin. Taehyung turns you towards him then presses himself against you. His semi-hard rubs against your stomach, making him groan. Seems like he’s falling apart faster than you are. Did he miss this too? Miss the way you smell, the way it feels to be near you again?

You rest your arms on his shoulders and he guides you around and back to his work table. It’s almost like a little dance, with the quiet music still playing in the background. Faces only a breath apart, the temptation to kiss him only grows. But giving in would only prove him right. After so many months, you cannot grant him this victory of being right, especially since he was the one in the wrong when you left.

When the back of your thighs meet the edge of the table, Taehyung shifts his hands down to your ass, gripping tightly and he lifts you up against him and onto the table. You have to choke back a moan just from the rough grip. Your lips brush against each other’s, but neither one of you is willing to bite the bullet first.

“Any of this familiar yet?” Taehyung asks. His voice is almost an octave deeper, saturated in lust and desire.

Smirking, you shake your head.

Taehyung tongues his cheek and cocks a brow. He leans back a bit, hands circling around your waist to rest on your thick thighs. His cocky grin widens as he pushes them further apart. One of his hands shifts up to your crotch, thumb grazing the seams. Face lighting up, Taehyung glances down at your crotch and brushes over it once more.

“No panites?” He questions with a chuckle. “This is looking more and more like that night then I thought it would.”

The confidence he oozes should annoy you, but you find yourself only spreading your legs further for him. Whenever he’s acting this egotistic, you cannot help but respond to it by giving yourself to him. This is a fact he knows well and uses to his advantage any time he’s ever felt like it.

You try to keep your wits about you, saying, “I wouldn’t know.”

Taehyung suddenly leans in. Your breath hitches at the realization that he’s swallowing his pride, that he’s finally going to kiss you. You’ve been dreaming about his lips for months, wondering how you’d be able to find someone else who just fits ever so perfectly against your lips. Eyes fluttering closed, lips in a faint pucker, you’ve inhaled deeply only to have him kiss your chin. He chuckles quietly against your skin, licking his way to your jawline all while leaving you breathless.

“You’re about to,” he growls.

As your body is in the midst of reacting, he somehow digs his nails into the seams of your pants and tears them apart. You gasp, shifting your hands from his shoulder to the edge of the table. You cannot help but stare down at the tear in amazement. Questions on how and why die in your throat when you find that Taehyung’s attention is not even on you anymore. He’s tightening his grip on your thighs and gazes down at your pussy. It pulses under his gaze, much to his own amazement.  

Squatting down, he licks his lips at this new angle. “Well, fuck,” he whispers. “How long have you needed me?”

Four months, you wish you had the courage to say. Instead you breathlessly reply, “I’m not sure this is what happened that night.”

“How would you know? I thought you didn’t remember.”

He’s only teasing but his tone is accusatory. You already know it’s because you’ve refused to answer his previous question. And your decision to talk back only adds to his shift in demeanour.  Once cheeky, his features darken into something closer to vexation. You’ve pushed the wrong buttons it would seem.

Narrowing his eyes, he orders, “Tell me, my muse. Tell me how long you’ve been needing me.”

You suck in a sharp breath. Pressing your lips together in a fine line, you refuse to make another sound, let alone utter another word. You’ll be damned if you have to admit that you regret walking away, that you cannot even remember the details of your date because all you could think about was everything he would do differently. Having to admit that for the last four months all you’ve been able to do is touch yourself to the thought of him or cry wouldn’t just be motifying but shameful and pathetic.

With a slow nod, Taehyung sighs. You think this is it. He’s ripped your pants apart, looked at every inch of your barest part, and teased you all for nothing. You’d maybe ask to borrow some pants, and he might give you some. But, other than that, nothing would’ve come from this interaction. The flirty comments and knowing looks would disappear with your relationship, this you feel you are sure of.

Then, he plays against your expectations; something you should have expected. Just when you’re about to bring your legs together, Taehyung spreads them apart further and shoves his face between them. He cannot use his hands there since they are covered in clay and, it seems, he also refuses to use his tongue. You cannot hold back the moans that pour out of you with every ministration. Merely smearing his face into your heat, Taehyung teases your clit. The bridge of his nose trails between your folds, lips pressing wet kisses to your tightening hole. From left to right, he shakes his face against your pussy.

You buck your hips against his lips, lacking shame and restraint. “Tae,” you moan, voice breaking.

Taehyung pulls away. Heaving and eyes half-lidded, he smirks up at you. He’s drenched in your arousal, looking like the cat who got the cream. “How long?” He mewls.

“Gimme your tongue,” you whine.

Taehyung mockly pouts up at you. He always looks prettiest on his knees, pretending to be in charge from such a degrading position. “Would you tell me then, babe?”

Your hips inadvertently roll at the pet name. You love it when he babies you like that, when he makes you feel so precious and fragile even though you both know you can rule over anything you want. Hesitantly, you nod. He raises a brow, waiting for verbal confirmation that you’ll tell him once he gives you his tongue.

With a little shrug of a single shoulder, you reply, “Why don’t you give it a try, TaeTae.”

His left eye twitches. You know exactly how that name affects him. His anger and powerful demeanor tremble when you dwell on him like that. He doesn’t need to tell you that he’s suddenly yours to overtake; his large eyes do the trick.

Swiping his tongue over his lips, Taehyung cleans his mouth from you. One little taste and his pupils expand, blown by lust and hunger. You don’t have to waste anymore time convincing him that you’d answer his question if he goes down on you. Your taste seems to be enough of a factor, in itself. He dips his head back in, tongue out this time. The tip pushes through your hole, lapping up your pooling juices. Leaning back on your hands, you gasp a loud moan. He knows his way around so well. One flick up, and your toes are curling. No amount of time apart has disturbed his memory of you. This may have been something you noticed while sculpting but now you can feel it. Tongue in and out, warm and wet, Taehyung explores your pussy like it’s his first time, only he knows everything about it.

You want to tangle your fingers in his hair, to see how the long strands feel in your hand, but they’re covered in clay too. And you know from experience just how hard it is to get clay out of hair. Once it completely dries, it almost seems like the only other option is to cut it all out. So, instead, you just dig your nails into the table, engraving your presence in the wood.

Rolling your hips into his face, you cry out your pleasure. Your legs are shaking, squeezing around his face, but he can’t seem to care any less. In fact, judging by his groans and growls, he seems to love the suffocation. He even pushes your legs further against his cheeks. Freezing in place, Taehyung only allows his tongue to continue to swirl around your pussy. His fingers harshly press into your thighs, sure to leave bruises, but you don’t care. Having him mark you up just like when you were together, is enough to make your eyes roll back.

You’re so, so close. Pussy clenching, his tongue still pushes its way in. He’s determined to see you through, to have you unfold right in his hands so hard that he still won’t breathe. And though you start to worry a bit, you cannot really pay attention to anything else besides the pleasure.

“Oh, Tae,” you cry. Voice breathy and high-pitched, it’s only a matter of time before-

It hits you hard, fast, and completely off guard. You have felt it growing and knotting in the pit of your stomach, but have no idea it would rush at you this harshly that you completely fall back on the table. Body convulsing, you scream and cream all over his tongue, mouth, and chin. His entire face will smell like you for days.

Taehyung forces your tightening legs apart, gasping for air. Gazing up at you, he sticks his tongue out and against your clit. He’s determined to help you ride out your high and nods his head up and down. You watch him through blurry vision, shamelessly rocking your hips up to meet him halfway. Or, at least you try to. Soon, you become all too sensitive to even hold his gaze, let alone grind against his tongue.

You fight against his hold on your legs, whining loudly. “Okay, okay,” you gasp as you try to seat yourself up.

He doesn’t care. That once yielding look in his eyes flashes into a demanding one. Seeing you so helpless under him shocks him with power once again. “One more time,” he pants against your heat.

“TaeTae,” you mewl, attempting to manipulate your way out of this overstimulated feast.

However, the use of the name this time, only spurs him on. He knows what you’re trying to do and doesn’t at all find it amusing. This time when he repeats his words, he growls, “One more time!”

Lips suctioning around your clit, he harshly sucks. Slurping and swallowing everything you have to offer, Taehyung holds your gaze. You’re a trembling mess. Tears falling freely down your face, you curse him three times over and buck your hips against his mouth. He finds the entire sight so humorous, he can’t help but smirk.

You’re still his little toy, a play thing for him to fool around with and test out some kinks on. The realization should make you curse him again and again, but you can only play into it. Pouting and mewling, you’ve fully sold yourself out just so Taehyung is well fed with your juices.

This is the peak of his games, you think. This is as far as he will go and you expect that you’ll cum in another minute or so. But then his teeth graze your clit once, twice, three times. You come undone within seconds. Arching your back, you let out the neediest cry you’ve ever heard and pathetically cum against his chin. The shudders and shivers of your body are beyond your control, as is your broken voice and any lasting grip you thought you had on reality.

As if biting and sucking your clit isn’t mindbreaking enough, Taehyung dips his tongue back in you to sneak another taste. “Taehyung, please,” you beg. “Please!”

He finally lets up, removing his face from your sopping heat and releasing his hold on your legs. You instantly bring them together and hug them into your chest. Heaving and shedding your last few tears, you try to recompose yourself and the silent atmosphere you once shared while sculpting.

“Strange,” he starts, returning to his feet. He takes his hands in yours, slowly unwrapping the hug you’ve cocooned yourself in. “It sounds a lot like that night. But, that’s not at all what I was doing then to make you this needy.”

To anyone else, you would've looked fucked out and completely ruined. But Taehyung knows that’s not at all the case. He has tested your stamina enough to know that you can most likely go for another round or two. Pulling your legs apart, he stands between them then helps sit you back up.

Faces inches away, you exchange breaths. “How long have you been this needy, my muse?” He asks again.

He really does smell like you. His cheeks, nose, chin, and lips are smeared with your cum. It doesn’t even look like he was feasting. It almost looks like he just wanted to cover his face with your juices. Gulping, you consider his question. You did insinuate that you’d answer the question if he gave you his tongue. And, holy fuck, did he give it to you. However, an insinuation is not a promise. He made that clear during your last argument.

“I don’t remember promising anything,” you whisper in a light pant.

The pain in his eyes cannot be neither mistaken nor missed. Echoing his words all these months later, surely recalls suppressed emotions of misery and betrayal for the both of you. He sneers a smirk, glaring at your lips. “Your memory has failed you,” he hisses. Gripping onto your hips, marking you there with bruises as well, he adds, “But, I won’t.”

“Not again, anyway.”

You sound colder than he does which causes him to hesitate for a moment. His hands fall by his sides as he searches your face for some sort of confirmation to continue. He almost seems like he’s not sure if he really wants to pick up where he left off too, seeing that you’re still upset with him. The guilt of seeing him so fragile and wounded eats away the majority of your anger. But, if he thinks he’s the only one struggling to make sense of this break up, he’s wrong.

Right now, the only way you can think of showing that to him is by first displaying your eagerness to continue in this sexual stroll down memory lane. You lean forward, brushing the tip of your nose against his, and reach down to his crotch. The dent in his jumpsuit throbs in your hand. His hard cock all but pulses under your palm as you rub at it. His breath hitches. You then untie the sleeves of his jumpsuit and watch carefully as his cock comes back into view. Fuck, you’ve forgotten just how pretty it is when it’s all pink tipped and desperate to be pumped. He shifts a bit, you assume to step out of the jumpsuit, and resettles his hands back on your waist.

Not another moment of uncertainty stands between you anymore. Swallowing his pride, Taehyung kisses you first. Lips on lips, the taste of yourself on his tongue has you moaning already. He  seems to take this as a sign to let himself go as well. He pulls you closer to the edge of the table and rolls his hips into yours. The length of his dick rubs between your folds, but he doesn’t enter. Not yet. He simply teases the idea of entering, of ruining you.

But, you’re too overstimulated to enjoy it in its entirety. Your legs resume their little shudders at the tiniest bit of friction when his cock just happens to brush against your clit. Taehyung, upon noticing this, makes sure to touch it with every new grind against you. He smirks when you whimper into his mouth and chuckles a bit when you break the kiss to whine his name.

“What is it, baby,” he coos. He grounds his hips harder into yours, erupting moans from the both of you. “Ah, shit, I could just cum like this,” he hisses as his mouth hovers over yours.

A little smirk tugs on your lips at his words. Yes, you may be helplessly falling apart with every passing second. However, watching him come undone from the impression of your pussy against his cock, is a rather prideful moment. You tilt your head and begin peppering his chin and cheeks with open mouthed kisses, staining his face with your saliva now as well as your cum.

“Then, just cum, TaeTae,” you whine.

Perhaps if you didn’t sound so desperate, he probably would’ve switched back into his own submissive state. But, it’s the squeal in your voice and mischief in your tone that only drives him further down his power trip. He pulls away a bit, holding your horny gaze with an unimpressed one of his own. He realigns his hips as his jaw shifts. He’s pretending to chew gum again. Holy shit, he’s going to fuck you senseless.

He does not push into you though. Instead, he pulls you onto him by the deadly grip he has on your hips. You stare up at him as a loud cry escapes you with every inch that stretches your walls. Taehyung looks back with very little remorse in his eyes. The sight of you so small in his arms, whipped for his cock, makes his tip twitch a bit. But he is not immune to the action of entering you, sucking in a sharp breath.

“I can’t believe I forgot how tight you were,” he whispers, voice breaking.

And you thought you could never forget how big he is, but here you are. Eyes rolling back, you relish in his size like it the first time. “Big,” you mewl as he bottoms out. “Tae, you’re so big.”  You sound just as broken as he does.

He cannot even find it in him to be cocky about it. He hears the realization in your voice. He knows you’ve forgotten too. A flash of pain twinkles in his eyes. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and whisper. “Remind me, Taehyung.” His brows quirk up and you add, “Remind me how good you make me feel. And I’ll remind you the same.”

Taehyung presses a gentle kiss on your forehead. Then, his hips snap in action. Holding you close, he starts hard and fast. He’s naked and growling into your ear with every thrust. You’re clothed and whining with every rumble of his chest and jerk of his hips. You didn’t even have to beg to bring out such a feral side of him. Could it be that he’s looking for the same thing you are? A lost lover?

Clay smeared fingers pressing into his skin, you push away that thought and scratch at his back. That once blank canvas of muscle and skin will now be lined with your lov- lust. This is just lust. You have to remind yourself of this fact every time he pushes into you.

He quietly hisses with each streak until he pauses his thrusts. You pout, leaning back a bit to ask if anything is wrong. But before you can even part your lips, Taehyung is readjusting his grip from your hips to your tube top.

“You’re a fucking slut to dress like this for him,” he growls. Then, in one swift motion, he pulls it down. You gasp as your breasts spill out, not out of exposure, but simply shock. He grips onto the rolled down top and smirks. “They’re a little uneven,” he points out. “But, I like that about them. Does he too? Does he get to see you like this, slut?”

You’ve got it wrong. It’s not your use of his nickname that has sent him spiralling into a pit of dominance, but rather that you went out to see another man. Is that why he ripped your pants apart? He’s destroying the outfit he thinks you wore for somebody else. Not only that, but his words only confirm that he is indeed sculpting you. All from memory, Taehyung has been molding your naked body down to the precise imperfection of your slightly uneven breasts.

And while you’re still trying to make sense of it all, he slaps one of them causing you to moan and throw your head back. Taehyung grabs a hold of your chin and drags your head back down to meet his gaze. “Answer me,” he seethes. “How much of you does he have?”

“None!” You shout. Your breathing is uneven, and you have to swallow the lump in your throat to continue, “I don’t even remember his name; he’s irrelevant.”

Taehyung circles his hips around yours, clearly pleased with your reply. But he does not pick up where he left off. “You haven’t been able to remember a lot tonight. Is that all irrelevant to you too?”

The shake of your head is reactive. You barely even had to think about it. This act of pretending that you don’t feel anything for him anymore has clearly fallen. “That’s not it, Taehyung,” you whine, hooking a leg around his waist. He wipes the tears streaming down your face as you continue, “I just didn’t want to remember us.”

Licking his lips, Taehyung slowly pulls out and eases himself back in. You tremble, watery eyes twitching in bliss. “Tell me how long you’ve been needy, baby,” he whispers.

“Have I not said enough already?”

You clutch onto his biceps and buck your hips up to meet his. He gasps, unable to hide his smile. You can tell he wants to finish this conversation but, with the way your walls are tightening around him, he doesn’t seem like he’s able to. One look in his eyes and you can tell he’s consumed by the pleasure all too much to reply.

Taehyung lets one hand fall to his side when he starts to pick up his pace. You shift one of your hands to his shoulders while the other holds onto the table’s edge. He holds you by the grip he has on your rolled tube top and smacks his hips against yours. It’s almost as if he’s riding a horse with the way he’s fucking you. And if you don’t whine loud enough, he’d slap each of your tits and force those screams out of you, growling, “You can do better than that.”

Removing your hands off him and back to the table, you accidentally rest your hand on one of his palettes. You gasp, looking over to find your hand smeared with blue and yellow hues. Taehyung laughs and rams into you faster. “You’re just making a mess wherever you go, hmm?” he teases.

You pout. He’s having too much fun making a mockery of you. Granted, you’re loving the attention, the way he’s fucking you into submission and realization, but you cannot let all this go to his head too much. As he smacks your breasts once more, nipples a little raw as they sting, you wipe your hand on him, down from his cheek to his collarbone.

He gasps, but his hips never stutter. Before you can even register his actions, Taehyung readjusts his grip from your top to your breasts and shoves his face between them. He transfers the swirl of dark blue and gold all over you as he fucks you as senseless as you predicted.

And as he playfully punishes you, blowing raspberries into your chest, you find yourself missing this, missing him. How could you have forgotten he likes to get playful, that he can switch between his two demeanours so seamlessly? He giggles when he pushes your breast into his face and further stains them with paint.

“The only one making a mess is you,” you rush to whine as your impending orgasm nears.

Dipping your hand in more paint, you rub the colours on his back and shoulders. You’re going to colour him yours if this is the last thing the two of you do together. Paint on his skin, in his hair, all over him, you’re going to make your impression here last through all the moans and whines and lewd slouches of your sensitive wetness around him.

Taehyung kisses his way up to your lips. He slips his tongue in once he reaches them and rolls his hips into you particularly harder than before. He can feel that he’s got you trailing the edge of your high. Thrust upwards, Taehyung reaches your most sensitive place. Every ram into it makes you shudder, toes curling and moans pouring into his mouth. One of his hands shifts up to your breast, massaging the smeared paint in, while the other holds your hips in place.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whines against your lips. “Come back to me.”

He can’t do this. He can’t beg you to come back with his dick shoved so deep in you like this. You’re so fucking close and he knows this. He can feel every inch of you tighten around him and desperate to be released. It’s cruel of him to manipulate you like this, to kiss you like he’s lost in the moment when he’s really just lost in you.

Kissing his way to your ear, Taehyung feels your pussy quiver. He smirks, thrusting hard enough to move the table back, and growls in your ear, “Come back to me, my muse. Cum.”

You fall back onto the table, body a total shaking shock as your orgasm washes over every inch of you. With one hand trembling over your lips, your other grabs onto one of your tits in an effort to brace yourself from the rush of ecstasy that overcomes you. The moans and whines that leave you are no exception to your convulsing state. Their breathless, broken, and blaring as you practically scream out in bliss.

Taehyung enjoys the show, watching you forget how to breathe from his place between your legs. He’s still going fast and hard, groaning when he feels you coat his cock in your cum. Mesmerized by the sight of your unheld breast bouncing with each of his thrust, he slaps it. You squeal at the sting.

And as you try to look at him, still riding out your orgasm, Taehyung’s cock twitches only to paint your inner walls with his missed affections. He falls forward, over you, burying his face between your tits again. You push them into his face and shake them against his cheeks, hearing him growl over your heart.

At some point, he stops thrusting and opts to circling his hips into yours. It’s all the same to you. Your legs continue to shake and your heart still races. Drenched in sweat, paint, and clay, you two lie there for a second longer. Even while growing limp, Taehyung feels so full in you.

He peels himself off you. His face, glistening in paint, looks like Van Gogh’s starry night, his eyes being the sparkling stars. He smirks down at you before trailing his gaze lower. That smile falls with every part of you he realizes he has ruined. Your chest is exposed and covered in colours, shirt non existent, pants clay stained and torn straight down the middle, and pussy a sopping mess of your mixed cum when he pulls out.

“I did make a mess,” he pants.

One step back, then two, then three. He distances himself from you as if ashamed of his work. You slowly sit up and cross your legs. Already, they feel strained and sore. But, they’re the least of your worries. It's the way that Taehyung winces at the sight of you, that has your heart somersaulting into your stomach. You swallow thickly between heaving pants and watch him carefully. He’s completely bare and looks even more broke than you do. His gaze looks vague and face sickly. Shaking his head, Taehyung runs a hand through his hair. He looks so annoyed with himself, he cannot even find it in him to laugh at the fact that he only got more paint in his hair.

Crossing your arms over your chest to cover yourself up a bit, you say, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

He blinks repeatedly, snapping his attention back up at you. “Why aren’t you disturbed by this?” He questions, voice all but breaking.

Your eyes scan up and down his frame before your brows knit together in confusion. Is he referring to his naked body, or that the two of you just came to the thought of dating each other again? Still, why is either of those things worth being disturbed over? A naked Taehyung post sex has never been a bad sight and, though things did end horribly, the thought of being with him again doesn’t seem so bad now. Did he not mean it when he asked you to come back? Was it just something to get off to? Are you just something to get off to?

“What?” You whisper now that your anxious train of thought has robbed your voice.

“Aren’t you dating?” He clarifies. “That poor guy. I can’t believe I just let us do that.”

You’ve never seen him this distressed. He walks back to you, just to grab his jumpsuit and briefs. He can’t even bear to look at you as you stare back at him in complete confusion. What does he think happened here? That you cheated? Clenching your jaw, you can't believe that he could think that low of you. Then again, you never did blatantly say that it was your first date since the break up. In fact, now that you think about it, you did make it seem like you were in a relationship with someone else.

Taehyung hastily gets dressed as you try to hop off the table without falling on your face from how weak your legs are after such a fucking. “Tae,” you start only to have him walk away. With a sigh, you call after him. He ignores you.

What the hell are you supposed to do now? You sure as hell can’t follow him with your legs so sore and he doesn’t seem to want to talk to you. And even if you could walk, your clothes are ruined and it would take a while for an uber to get here with all the snow coming down out there. The distant spray of the shower directs your attention to the hallway Taehyung escaped down to get away from you. Great, he’s showering and left you here to figure this all out yourself.

Taking a seat on the floor, you decide to give your legs a moment to rest before ordering yourself an uber and hoping that this night ends soon. You should’ve listened to your gut and rejected his call. You shouldn’t have agreed to this, or come here, or let him remind you just how much you miss and love him. All you ever wanted was- is him. If it haven’t been for this whole stupid issue about moving in, you’d still have him.

But, no. You had to force him into a step he wasn’t ready for. You lost him then and you came back to watch yourself lose him again. Is that it? Is that why you didn’t even explain yourself to the poor guy that was sitting across from you at Rollos. Yes, Rollos; that’s where you went for drinks. Wow, your memory really hasn’t served you well tonight. You hope you forget this tomorrow. You hope you'll be able to forget how pathetic you feel, how hurt he sounds, and how you lost him all over again.

“Get up,” Taehyung orders. His voice is rough, like he had been sobbing.

Looking over to him, you find that could’ve actually been the case. His face is tear streaked now as well as paint smeared. He stands a good few feet away from you, glaring down at your woefully ruined frame. “Taehyung, I’m not-”

He doesn’t seem to want to hear any of it. “Get up,” he repeats. “Go shower. I have some clothes for you to wear then I’m taking you home.”

“Tae, just liste-”

“Delete my number. We never talk about this again. And if you’re at all like the person I loved, you’d tell him the truth.”

Is he seriously judging you right now? You’ve barely even had a chance to explain yourself. He really doesn’t want to listen to anything you have to say, cutting you off like you’re less than him. You cannot help but scoff at him and his words.

Taehyung sighs. “Just please get up, (Y/N).”

“I’m not dating anyone.”

His superiority falls. The life returns to his face as he approaches you but you recoil into yourself the moment he steps forward. Pausing, he tilts his head at you. “What is it?”

What is it? This man is going to be the death of you. “You just shamed me for something that wasn’t true, Taehyung!” You shout.

“I thought you were cheating with me!”

You use the table to help yourself up and dryly chuckle. “Ha, yeah because lying is such a normal thing to do, right? I’m as twisted as you, Taehyung.”

“I lied because I knew saying no would hurt you. Why can’t you see that I was just looking out for you?”

That one sentence makes you freeze in place. Is he really that fucking dense? He can’t seriously believe that looking out for someone you love involves lying. Slowly turning to face him, you don't even make an effort to hide your tears anymore. “You were looking out for yourself and you know it!”

“I just didn’t-”

“Want to grow tired of me.” You finish for him in a mocking tone.

Taehyung huffs, shaking his head. “That’s not what I was going to say. Would you just let me finish?”

You’re done with this stupid conversation. All you want to do is go home and get as far away as possible from him and the way he smells and the fact that even though you hate him so much right now, you want him to come and hug you and tell you everything is going to be okay. But, he’s just so annoying. And you can’t bear to look at him anymore with that cold glare consistently being directed towards you. You’ll wait outside for the uber. Hell, you’ll just walk back to your apartment. Anything to get out of here and away from him.

In an attempt to follow through, you try to make your way towards the door, but your legs almost instantly give out.

“Jesus, babe,” Taehyung hisses, rushing to your side.

It’s not even just the fact that you’re sore but your ripped pants are starting to rub up against your cum leaking pussy. You whine a bit and try to shake him off in order to jump back onto the table. But, you’re thankful he stays by your side because you definitely cannot get up there alone with your lacking upper body strength.

His hands linger on your thighs, softening eyes locked on yours. A hint of a smirk plays on his lips before he says, “I remember doing this to you often.”

Yes, leaving you limping around the apartment was his favourite pastimes. He liked to watch you struggle to walk after every intimate moment. In fact, he always felt like he didn’t do his job right if you’re not limping. He’d go ten times rougher the next time around and then cuddle you to his chest, cooing reassurances in your ear. Was it bad that you wanted that all the time? That you wanted to sleep and wake up in the same bed he does everyday?

Slow tears roll down your face as you take his hand art stained in yours. “It was my first date since our break up,” you confess. “Sumni asked for your number… and for permission to go out with you. I just felt a little hurt that you were moving on.”

“She called.”

Your heart has shattered too many times tonight to even react to his words, but you can feel your soul shudder. She called. And did he answer? Did he have a drink with her too? You want to ask but your pride swallows your questions whole. All you can bring yourself to say is, “She’s a nice girl.”

He nods. Squeezing your hand, Taehyung wraps his arm loosely around your waist and stands in front of you. “I told her I wasn’t really ready to see anyone else yet,” he tells you, pressing himself against you.

The gesture is not at all sexual and you do not interpret it as such. Rather, it is tender and comforting. He releases his hold on your hand to wipe your tears, letting his own fall. Licking his lips, he whispers, “What’s his name?”

You shrug.

“Come on,” he half-heartedly nudges your legs. “Tell me.”

Does he think you’re trying to spare his feelings? Meeting his gaze, you can’t help but smile. He looks so cute, so precious in front of you. Playing with his hand, your fingers looping around his, you reply, “I don’t remember. I only spoke to him for half an hour or something.”

He cannot hide his smile, but avoids your gaze. Even still, you can see the relief within them. He seems to be pleased that you’re just as miserable as he is, pining after someone you cannot have any more.

“Is that why you came over?”

You shake your head before you can even think the action through. And the words leave your lips just the same, “I just missed you.”

“I really missed you too,” he croaks, rushing to say the words like he can’t believe them himself. “God, I’ve just wanted you back for so long.”

He’s all but sobbing in front of you. Parting your lips, you’re about to tell him that he doesn’t have you, not yet anyways. The fact is that he still lied, and has continued to lie to manipulate you. This cannot be forgiven so easily. You love and miss him dearly, but surely you cannot just take him back without discussing the cause of your break up first.

But then, Taehyung burrows his face into the crook of your neck and lets himself fall apart. Hugging you close, he cries into your skin. You cannot hold back the sob that tears through your throat just from the mere sound of his choked breaths and wet tears against you.

“I’m so sorry,” he cries as you cradle his head. “I’m sorry.”

The broken tone of his voice is enough to make you whimper into his hair. He sounds so fragile. This break up, you realize, has torn him inside out too. Pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, you try to console both of your fears. But every sob trembles your courage and every drop of his tears makes you recoil in guilt and shame. How could you have done this to him, to your relationship?

He shudders a breath as he pulls away. Red in the face, wet streaks staining his painted cheeks, he cups his hands under your jaw and says, “Look, you can move in right now, okay? Alright? I’ll get your things tomorrow. I’ll give you Jungkook’s key. He only comes here to steal our food anyways.” Just stay, please (Y/N).”

His voice is shaky and tone all but heartbreaking as he chuckles at his own little joke. The desperation is real and hard to deny. You cannot even open your mouth to even voice your reservations about dating again. Clutching onto his jumpsuit, you try to revert your gaze to your lap in hopes to find your courage and tell him that you need to talk first. Only, Taehyung dips his head low to catch your eyes again. He’s determined to have you stay. And your silence only provokes more tears.

“I promise I’ll never tell another lie,” he sobs. “I promise I’ll never let my worries get in between us again. Please, baby, just please stay. Say that you’ll stay.”

You cannot watch this for another moment longer. There’s lots you still have left to discuss, like why he’s so worried about growing tired of you, and why he felt the need to lie in the first place. But his promise to never do it again is enough for now. And you just can’t sit here watching him cry any longer. You pull him towards you, pepper his cheeks with gentle kisses then cradle his head.

“I’m not going anywhere, Tae,” you mutter into his hair. “Mostly because I can’t.”

Your attempt at a joke causes him to choke out a chuckle. He showers the crook of your neck with wet kisses, muttering into your skin, “I love you.”

Rapturing in a relieved frenzy, your nerves dance within your bloodstream and repair your ruptured heart. You let out a deep breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. “I love you too,” you cry.

The last four months haven’t granted you a shred of peace. You’ve lived and re-lived that argument over and over again, praying you can just go back and fix it all there and then. But, maybe… maybe it all needed to fall apart to fall back into place. Maybe it needed to rupture to rapture.

tags: @miinoongi​, @jenotation​, @allannahmalik​, @taeshuworld​

note; please do not leave hate towards me or any other readers. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work without my permission.

[avmisworld]

When BTS meet you for the first time:

Kim Seokjin:

Jin runs a pale hand through his short black hair, nodding absentmindedly to the staff he sees on his way down the hallway, his familiar polite smile spread across his face.

He has a long and intense day of dance practice ahead of him, a day he couldn't start properly without his daily cup of coffee and a sweet pastry from the company's coffee shop.

Pushing the simple glass door with the palm of his hand, Jin steps into the small, cozy restaurant, the small golden bell above his head signaling his arrival with a tinkle.

"Good morning", Jin says, bowing lightly at the different staff members and workers sitting around the round oak tables filling the shop, the space soon filled with various greetings towards him.

The room is filled with a strong smell of coffee beans and melted chocolate and sweet baked treats, and the young man breaths in the delicious scent with satisfaction, looking around the softly lit room, with the dangling yellow lights shining like stars in the sky and the colorful pictures and motivational quotes hanging on the walls.

Seokjin had always found this place calming and homey, with the soft piano music playing in the background and the wide glass windows showing off the busy street mere metres away from the shop, adding to the other-wordly atmosphere.

Sitting down at his usual spot in the edge of the cafe, Seokjin slips off his black jacket, revealing the simple white t-shirt under it as he carelessly flings the piece of clothing across the empty chair beside him.

It was hot inside the coffee shop, nothing like the weather outside, with the winter starting and the winds blowing, causing the people on the street to cuddle even closer into their thin coats and sweaters.

"Hello and welcome to our coffee shop. How can I help you?", Jin is surprised at the sound of the soft, feminine voice coming from in front of him, his head snapping upwards to stare at the young waitress in front of him with wide eyes.

Jin was a hundred percent sure that this waitress was working here for less than a week, since he hasn't since her before, and everyone here knew who Jin was and what he orders by heart thanks to his frequent visits.

Also, judging by her skin color and slight accent, the girl in front of him was a foreigner. Seokjin couldn't help but let his eyes linger one second too long on the girl's shiny, long hair, twinkling dark orbs, and plump pink lips, before clearing his throat loudly and smiling slightly.

"Hello", he replies, trying to stay calm despite the increasing race of his heart the longer he looked at the beautiful young woman. "I'd like an Americano and a purple sweet potato cake, please".

The younger girl nods, bowing her head slightly before turning to walk back to the kitchen, Seokjin's eyes following her lithe figure until it disappears behind the simple white door.

Staring outside, Seokjin stares at the people rushing past the window, their eyes trained on the ground underneath them or locked on their phone screen. The image of the girl doesn't fade from Jin's mind, unfortunately, and he wonders why he can't stop repeating the image of the foreigner's stunning smile.

"Here you go, sir", Seokjin's startled out of his thoughts at the sound of the soft, quiet voice, a steaming mug of brown liquid placed in front of him, the froth on top drawn carefully into the shape of a heart, and a pretty porcelain plate, holding a small, bright purple muffin, wisps of steam still coming out of it.

"Thank you", the dark-haired man says, eyeing the petite girl for another second, before clearing his throat nervously, causing the girl to stop just as she was about to leave the table.

"I'm sorry, do you want anything else?", the girl's pretty face is sporting a soft pink blush now, and she's fiddling with her fingers nervously, placing them on top of her simple turquoise dress shirt.

Before he can think it over, Jin is shaking his head quickly, making sure to send the girl a genuine smile to calm her down, before saying: "No, no, I was just wondering… Are you new here?"

The young woman seems to blush even harder at that, laughing sweetly in something akin to relief, and Seokjin can feel his own smile widen at the sound of the twinkling giggle. "Is it that obvious?", she mumbles, tucking a strand of dark hair that managed to escape her tight ponytail.

"It is for someone who's here nearly every single day", Seokjin says with amusement, finally catching the waitress' gaze when she lifts her head up to meet his eyes.

"I'm Kim Seokjin", he introduces himself, reaching out one of his long hands to the other, watching as she sends one of her own tanned ones to shake his, her smile now looking shy and bashful, yet just as beautiful.

"I'm Y/L/N Y/N", she introduces herself, and Seokjin can't help but smile even wider at the other's name, happy to get one step closer to knowing more about the mystery girl.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N", Seokjin says, trying to ignore the warmth seeping through the girl's hand, tightening the hold on her hand just a little bit more. "I think we'll be seeing each other a lot more from now on".

Min Yoongi:

Yoongi enters the music bar, pulling his black snapback even lower on his head as he shuffles through the bustling entrance, trying to draw as least attention to himself as possible.

Going to a packed bar by yourself as an idol was in no means a good idea, but Suga was having a serious writer's block that was killing him, and sometimes the best way to deal with that is to just be a normal person.

Nobody should be able to recognize him, not with the hat covering his shiny silver hair, the mask drawn up to his nose, and the simple black clothes, yet the young man could still feel the buzz of anxiety in his body, mixed with an unexplainable excitement.

Honestly, Suga could already feel some of his inspiration coming back to him just by entering the small bar, his eyes immediately scanning the dark space, the colorful lights hanging above the drinking bar, the assortment of chattering men and women sitting around long black counters and smooth round tables, or swaying lightly to the jazz music playing on the large black speakers.

Walking over to the ginger-haired barista, Yoongi asks for a bottle of soju, bowing in thanks when the woman hands over the ice-cold green bottle with a smile, and heads for one of the empty tables at the back of the bar, facing the small stage built for amateur karaoke singers and the occasional guest artist.

Sitting on the hard wooden chair, Yoongi takes a long sip of his drink, sighing with satisfaction at the burn of the alcohol in his throat, filling his stomach with the familiar warmth he was seeking.

He examines the groups of friends, probably university students celebrating the start of the weekend, talking loudly and laughing boisterously. He watches lone people like himself, nursuring glasses of alcohol to their chest, and imagines why they are here, their story. He stares at sweet couples with envy, admiring the way the man tightens his hold around his girlfriend's waist possessively, proudly telling the world who she belongs to.

The sound of a sweet, honey-like voice snaps Yoongi out of his thoughts, and he thinks he never turned his head as fast as he did right now, his eyes catching the girl standing on the stage immediately.

She's beautiful, magnificent even, and the bar seems to quiet down significantly when she starts to sing, as if the world itself was holding its breath. She's wearing a simple black mini dress, the sleeves hanging off her shoulders, and her hair is cascading down her shoulder like a waterfall of darkness, swallowing Yoongi whole.

Her stage presence is incredible, even the way she holds the small black microphone radiating some sort of silent power, and Suga can't help but stare with awe, letting the girl's soft voice sweep him away like the wind.

It feels like everything and nothing at all, and even though the song is English and he can't understand half of the words, the melodic voice of the mystery singer is enough to make Yoongi shake with emotion, his hands grabbing the bottom of the table to steady himself.

It seems like hours, or maybe seconds, before the girl is done, her sentimental expression changing into a beautiful smile as she bows to the cheering crowd bashfully, her aura nothing like the powerful, heartbroken one from seconds before.

Yoongi can't even stop himself from getting out of his seat, his feet unconsciously making their way after the young woman, his thoughts jumbled and he doesn't even know what he's going to say to her, for God's sakes. (Maybe, "you're my muse?")

Either way, he's walking, grabbing the other's hand before he can even think of the consequences, and she's turning around, even more bright up close, like a star in a sky full of clouds, and then he's saying: "I'm Min Yoongi".

The girl is smiling now once again, and it's a kind smile, even though it seems a bit confused, and she nods her head, Yoongi's eyes following her as if in trance. "Umm… Nice to meet you, Min Yoongi. I'm Y/L/N Y/N".

Somehow, even her name inspires him, and Suga can't help but break into a smile, pulling down his face mask to reveal the gummies peaking through his pink lips. "Y/L/N Y/N. It's nice to meet you, too".

Jung Hoseok:

Jung Hoseok strolls through the wide expanses of bright green grass, the white bucket hat on his head not doing much to hide the sunlight streaming through the tall oak trees in the park.

It's a nice day outside, the perfect day to take a walk around the lovely park next to the Bighit company building, and J-hope was enjoying the chirping of the birds and the warmth of the sun as he walks, letting his mind wander off his idol life and different responsibilities.

BTS was very busy lately, and being one of the writers and choreographers of their newest album, and an important member, J-hope could practically feel Bang PD breathing down his neck these days.

Humming softly to the song playing on the white airpods in his ears, "Make it Mine" by Jason Mraz, the brown-haired man matches his light steps to the upbeat tune, letting his eyes flutter shut when a refreshing wind brushes past him, ruffling his thin white t-shirt and loose gray knee-long pants.

A soft brush against his leg makes J-hope let out a shriek of surprise, his eyes opening at once as he jumps back, the hat on his head almost falling to the ground beneath him.

There's a small creature at the spot where Hoseok was a few moments ago, a cute white Pomeranian, tiny enough to fit in Hoseok's arms easily, looking like a female version of Yeontan.

The dog is looking at J-hope with interest, an almost confused expression on its face, like he can't imagine why the human in front of him would ever be scared of him, and J-hope lets out a sigh of relief, crouching down to the furry animal's height.

"Hey, buddy", he says with a gentle smile, running a warm hand through the dog's soft white coat, "Did I scare you? You scared me, too", he chuckles, examining the dog's well-kept appearance and light pink leather collar with a golden clasp. This dog obviously has an owner, and a good one at that.

"Where's your owner? Hmm?", Hoseok asks, raising his head to look around the mostly empty park and then back to the dog, who was still looking at him with intelligent black eyes, answering by licking the palm of J-hope's hand with his small pink tongue.

Before J-hope can check the collar, maybe look for a name or a phone number on the other side, there are footsteps approaching him quickly, and then a girl is crouching on the ground next to him, gathering the dog into her hands with mumbled apologies to J-hope and frantic kisses to her pet.

She's young, maybe a few years younger than J-hope, and a foreigner, if her appearance and accent were anything to go by. She was wearing a simple beige shirt tucked into faded mom jeans and mustard-colored sneakers, and her hair streamed down her back in dark waves, strands of it covering her face from her run a few moments ago.

"I'm so sorry", she repeats again, finally releasing the dog in her arms and turning to J-hope, her dark eyes wide with sincerity and a dark blush high on her cheeks as she bows her head multiple times, avoiding eye contact with the man in front of her.

"It's fine, really", Hoseok says with a laugh of reassurance, waving his hand to signal that he wasn't annoyed in any way. "Your dog is adorable. What's his name?"

The girl looks relieved, a deep sigh escaping her pink lips after seeing J-hope's gentle smile, and she smiles back, the shy gesture sending the young man's heart into a frenzy.

"It's a girl, actually.", she says with a grin, running a small hand through the dog's long fur, the pet purring in content at the feeling. "Her name is Bella".

"Nice name", J-hope says, blushing slightly before raising his head once again to look at the girl. "And what's yours?"

The girl seems flustered for a second, her eyes widening slightly before she smiles again, reaching her hand out towards J-hope's jittering figure. "I'm Y/L/N Y/N".

Breaking into a large grin at the sound of the answer, Hoseok doesn't hesitate to shake her hand back, feeling his body buzz with uncontained excitement at the feeling of girl's skin against his own. "Your name is even prettier. I'm J-hope."

Kim Namjoon:

Namjoon firmly believed that the best way to reduce stress was going book shopping, no matter how much teasing it earned him from the rest of the members.

Pushing his golden-rimmed glasses up his nose, RM runs his hand across the shelf of books, enjoying the feeling of the different covers against his skin, from old leather to fresh paper, the pages making a satisfying sound when they catch on his fingers.

Namjoon loves this. The smell of the wood shelves, the soft lamps washing the room in warm lighting, the flowery armchairs waiting to be sat on, the calming silence, the centuries of history and dreams this place is filled with.

He doesn't know what he's looking for, he never does, but he always finds it in the end, and right now his body is leading him deeper and deeper into the long aisles, where the books are older and thicker, the colorful book-covers fading into hues of black and brown.

As if on their own, his eyes are drawn to a particular book, bound in a thick leather cover, the words "Candide" engraved in the material in cursive writing, barely understood from RM's spot just a few metres away.

It didn't look any different from most of the novels in this section, yet Namjoon still finds himself fastening the pace of his walk, his hand reaching out to grab the worn out book before another hand appears in front of his own, a feminine hand with long, thin fingers and manicured nails colored a soft apricot.

Namjoon retracts his hand immediately from the warm touch before looking up, his eyes wide when he sees the pretty girl in front of him, smiling sheepishly.

Her hair is dark and long, falling over her shoulder in a simple braid. She's shorter than Namjoon, petite, with a small waist and baby face, and she's wearing a simple mint t-shirt with buttons, tucked into classy white dress pants and white sneakers.

"I'm sorry", she apologies with a kind smile, bowing at Namjoon quickly, "Take it. You were here first."

Namjoon is too fascinated by the girl to even answer, and he feels his face heat up when he realizes he's been staring at her dumbly for the past few seconds.

Laughing awkwardly, the tall man runs a hand through his chocolate brown hair, not even caring if he was messing it up, before gesturing towards the young woman. "No, no, it's fine. You can have it, I was just looking."

The young woman seems confused and slightly uncomfortable, staring at Namjoon with dark calculating eyes. "Are you sure? I've read this book already, so it's not a big deal."

'She's smart, too', Namjoon thinks, his heart racing even faster with the growing feeling that this girl was special.

"Me, too", he says with a dimpled smile, "But I get you. Masterpieces need to be read more than once", he jokes, enjoying the girl's gentle laughter in the quiet space.

"Exactly", she agrees, a comfortable silence falling between them before Namjoon clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Can I ask… What's your name?", he questions hesitantly, hoping the girl can't see the blush on his cheeks in the dim light of the room.

The young woman smiles, and maybe it's just his imagination, but Namjoon swears the library seems less dusty and old, as if the girl revived the tired room with her joy. "Y/L/N Y/N. And you?".

"Kim Namjoon", the older man says, reaching his hand out to shake the girl's delicate one, the electricity he felt the first time he touched her changing into something warmer, like a pool of fire in his stomach, yet just as powerful. "It's nice to meet you."

Park Jimin:

Jimin stares at the mirror of the changing room, trying to resist the urge to run a hand through his currently pink hair, already set to perfection by his hair stylist, who would very much not appreciate her hard work being ruined.

He's already wearing the clothes for their "Boy with Love" performance on the BBMA's: an elegant black suit jacket with a metal flower attached to the dash, matching dress pants, a simple white shirt, an assortment of silver jewelry on his ears and hands, and a pair of pink-tinted sunglasses to top it all off.

The only thing that was missing was his makeup, which was usually done as close as possible to the actual show, to avoid smudges and so on. In fact, the makeup artist should be here any minute now.

Jimin turns away from the mirror when he hears the sound of conversation outside his room, looking at the door curiously just as it opens and foreign girl enters the changing room, a small smile on her face.

She's pretty, Jimin notices immediately, with her petite yet curvy frame, the glossy, dark hair tied into a tight ponytail on the top of her head, the subtle makeup on her face, highlighting her delicate facial features, and her tanned skin.

She's wearing a simple black t-shirt, the kind you can find in any closet basically, tucked into ripped skinny jeans, and worn out white sneakers, yet she still looks better than Jimin feels.

"Hello, you must be Jimin-ssi.", she says in perfect Korean, bowing respectfully at the coral-haired man, who was still shocked at the fact that this beautiful foreigner is here, and knows Korean.

"I'm your new makeup artist, Y/L/N Y/N", the young woman continues, seemingly not noticing the idol's flustered state. "Should we get started?"

Jimin finally seems to get back to his senses, bowing his head lightly back at the makeup artist. His heart was still racing a hundred miles an hour, and he can't believe this girl will be mere centimeters away from his face in a few seconds.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N-ssi. Feel free to start whenever you're ready.", he says softly, smiling at the girl sweetly and feeling a small smirk form on his lips when Y/N blushes lightly, her gaze flitting to the floor when Jimin stares at her for a second too long.

Y/N nods, letting Jimin sit down at the black leather chair, in front of the mirror where bright lights are facing the young man, illuminating his skin and making it easier for her to see what she is doing.

Jimin can't help but shiver when Y/N crouches beside him, her head almost touching his own, and he resists the urge to scream because her dark, warm eyes are staring at him with so much focus, and he feels as if she can see straight into his soul.

He decides not to talk to the beautiful makeup artist right now, not wanting to distract her from her work, but he's relieved at the thought that she'll be working with them the rest of the time they're in the USA, guaranteeing plenty of opportunities to talk with the girl.

Y/L/N Y/N. Jimin knows he won't forget that name.

Kim Taehyung:

Taehyung was tired, even though no one would ever notice it. Although he usually enjoyed fansigns, their latest comeback, "ON", left him more exhausted than usual, and he hated himself for hardly being able to keep his eyes open.

Another fan passes by in a blink of an eye, squeezing his hands in her own tightly while shouting 'I love you' as she leaves, and Taehyung responds with his own wink and finger heart, making the young girl squeal, and for a second the young man forgets the exhaustion seeping through his bones, the immense love he feels for his fans overcoming all the other emotions, yet the guilt doesn't disappear.

He puts a cute flower crown on his hair, made out of an assortment of white and pink daisies, the colorful accessory looking even brighter against his curly black locks and black leather jacket.

Taehyung smiles when he hears his fans yell various compliments at the sight of him with the cute accessory, waving them hello and causing the screams to strengthen even more.

He's so busy with entertaining the fans, he doesn't even notice the girl in front of him until she's letting out a quiet 'hello', causing Taehyung to turn his head and face the young woman in front of him.

She's pretty, with a petite body tucked into a thin, tight white long-sleeved shirt and a short denim skirt, showcasing toned legs and a small waist.

Her hair is long and dark, falling to her waist in luscious waves, but the shiny curls don't look styled, as if this was her natural hair. Her eyes are big and dark, her face small and cute-looking, with a button nose and plump lips, and she's hugging BTS' newest album to her chest tightly, as if treasuring it.

It wasn't the first time Taehyung saw a beautiful fan at one of their fansigns. In fact, all of their fans looked gorgeous to him, but even when one catches his eye more than the rest, he was usually really good at hiding it, making sure to give everyone his equal attention.

But this girl, something about the look in her eyes, the way she tucks a dark strand behind her ear, the pink blush on her round cheeks, the way her hands shake when she hands the album over to Taehyung, eyes widening slightly when their fingers brush.

Taehyung was a professional, yet he finds himself smiling warmly at the girl, reaching out to her and intertwining their fingers, a feeling of euphoria rushing through his body when he feels the fan's soft skin against his own.

"Hello", he finally answers, tilting his head down slightly to try and catch the girl's eyes, which were continuously fleeting away from him. "Why are you hiding from me?"

The girl seems bewildered at the question, and Taehyung can't help but thinks it's adorable, the way her doe eyes widen slightly, pink lips opening in surprise to reveal a row of perfect white teeth, but he resists the urge to smile towards the girl, instead keeping a small pout on his face, pretending to be disappointed.

"I'm sorry, I'm just shy", the girl mumbles then, lifting her eyes up almost forcefully to meet Taehyung's, before they fall back to their locked hands after a second, making Taehyung finally let out a deep chuckle, his acting long forgotten.

"You'll regret it later if you won't look at me now. Plus, I want to see your face, too", Taehyung explains, smiling in satisfaction when the fangirl lifts her head once again after a moment of hesitation, keeping her eyes on the idol's determinantly, despite the darkening blush on her cheeks.

"Woo-hoo", Taehyung cheers, releasing their joined hands to clap them together loudly, and the young woman laughs, covering her mouth with the back of her hand, but V can still hear the giggles escaping her mouth, sweet and melodic, and he thinks how much he'd love to hear it again.

"Now that I can see your pretty face, I should probably ask for your name.", Taehyung says with a grin, and the girl bows her head respectfully before saying, "I'm Y/L/N Y/N".

Taehyung still doesn't quite know what he's going to do, but knowing the fan's name, knowing she loves him, lights a spark of hope in his chest. "To, Y/L/N Y/N…"

Jeon Jungkook:

Jungkook likes practicing at 5 a.m in the morning, even if it means waking up before the sun is awake, when it's still dark outside, stumbling into the elevator of Bighit and pressing blindly on all the buttons until he reaches the right floor.

But there is also some good in working out so early in the morning. On days like this, when Jungkook was practicing for BTS' upcoming album until 3 in the morning, it's pretty pointless going back to his apartment, only to come back a few hours later. It's a lot easier to stay in the building, sleep on the comfortable blue sofa, and wake up two hours later to do his daily workout, without any disturbances.

Pushing open the opaque glass door with the palm of his hand, Jungkook muffles another yawn in the sleeve of his oversized black t-shirt. He's still wearing his sweat-filled clothes from practice, with the black Nike sneakers and gray sweatpants, but it doesn't really matter if he's going to sweat again.

His eyesight is still blurry and filled with tears of sleep-loss when he hops on the treadmill, but after a few minutes of jogging with his mind in haze, Jungkook starts to come back to his senses, the familiar adrenaline pumping in his veins.

It's when Jungkook is doing his deadlift workout routine, the muscles in his arms and thighs straining and his black long hair matted to his forehead with sweat, that the door to the gym opens suddenly, and Jungkook almost drops the weights he was holding from the surprise.

Standing in the entrance is a young woman, around Jungkook's age or maybe even younger. Judging by the black leggings she's wearing, the white crop top and the matching white sneakers, all Nike, the girl came to workout, just like the maknae of BTS.

Her dark hair is pulled into a messy bun on the top of her head, strands of it framing her small face, and her eyes are wide with shock at the sight of the young, sweaty man in front of her.

"Oh my God, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt you", she says quickly, before Jungkook can even think what to say, the dark-haired man too busy admiring the girl's obvious curves and now, the honey-like sound of her voice.

"I thought the gym would be empty at this hour… I'll go now, sir.", the girl exclaims, bowing to Jungkook deeply before she's turning around, and that's when Jungkook comes back to reality, placing the weights on the ground and ignoring the screaming pain in his whole body.

"Wait, don't go.", He shouts just as the girl steps outside of the gym, and she turns around, her eyebrows raised slightly in confusion when Jungkook blushes, scratching the back of his sheepishly.

"You work here, don't you?", he inquires, relief seeping through his veins when the young woman nods, responding: "I'm actually new here. I work as one of the producers for BTS."

"Well, lucky for you, I'm Jungkook from BTS", Jungkook says, a small smile appearing at his face at the display of horror on the girl's face, "And this gym is for the use of the staff too, so…", he gestures to the vast space around vaguely, hoping he doesn't sound too hopeful when he waits for the producer to answer.

To his slight surprise, the woman steps into the room after a moment of hesitation, shouldering off her black Nike duffle bag and letting it fall to the ground. "Thank you, Jungkook-ssi", she says politely, bowing once again, a cute blush covering her cheeks like fairy dust.

Jungkook can feel himself blushing as well, the need to turn his head when he sees the young woman start to stretch overwhelming, so he clears his throat, taking a long gulp of water before saying. "It's no problem, Producer…?", his voice trails off slightly, and the woman smiles at him through the mirrors lining the walls, her bright grin and sparkly eyes forcing Jungkook to look away, his ears burning.

"Y/L/N Y/N, sir", she responds, and Jungkook hums in understanding, putting the cap back on the water bottle and examining the slight shake in his hand in distaste. So much for being a worldwide famous idol, when he couldn't even talk to a girl.

"Well… Welcome to Bighit, Y/L/N Y/N. I hope we'll be together for a long time.", Jungkook congratulates with a sincere smile. 'In more ways than one', he thinks.

[lihikainanea]

can you please write smth where tiger's having a rough migraine but she wont tell bill bc she knew he'd drop work and would be at home in a snap of fingers if she told him smth, and then when he comes home he finds her in her room with all her blinds shut and doors closed to not let the light come through bc it makes her head ache more and its hurting so much already that she had thrown up a couple of times and he's worried and upset that she didnt call him but then takes care of her?

oh goddddd nani babes this is so sweet. As a fellow migraine sufferer, god I feel junk punched by this one.

I don’t know about any of you, sometimes I can feel a migraine come on from a day or two before--something will just feel off, I’ll get a nosebleed, or I have one of those “haha I’m so stressed god it’s a miracle I haven’t gotten a migraine yet” moments and then the next day--BAM. Flattened. Sometimes too, though, they just come out of nowhere. I’ll be fine, and then my vision will skew, my stomach will turn, and I know I have about a 5-10 minute window before I’m in some serious pain.

I get all the symptoms, too. Nausea. Extreme sensitivity to light. Blurred vision, or total blackout vision. Splitting pain. If I’m lucky, it only lasts a day. I’ve had some bad ones that last a long ass time and it’s awful.

So like, look--maybe tiger feels one coming on. Maybe Bill is on set--he’s in town, just on set for 16 hours every day--and tiger has been working like the boss bitch she is. But one morning at work--she feels it. That drilling sensation above her left eye--it’s a headache for now, but the minute the vision in her eye goes wonky she knows what she’s in store for. She quickly packs her shit, pops a few really strong Tylenol in an effort to fight it off (sometimes it works), and she heads home. She has a routine, one that works half the time--some strong Tylenol, a whole bottle of gatorade, and ten minutes later--two espressos. Hydration and caffeine can sometime nip it in the bud, if she’s lucky.

She’s not so lucky this time. She gets these, usually with the change of seasons or the barometric pressure being all off. She half contemplates calling Bill, but when she squints her eyes enough to see the time she realizes that he’s only been on set for two hours, and probably hasn’t even made it out of the make up chair yet. This shoot is a short one and every hour counts, and she can’t ruin his day.

Instead she stumbles to try and get her stuff ready for the long haul--cold compresses, warm compresses, her bottle of pain meds, some water. She barely makes it to bed.

And that’s exactly where she proceeds to stay for the next 14 hours.

The poor bean, it’s awful. The pain is so bad at one point that she dry heaves. And even if she wants to call Bill now, there’s no fucking way she can even function long enough to do that. She can barely speak. She’s just curled up in bed, in complete darkness, trying to relax and not tense up, whimpering in pain.

Bill wraps around midnight--he calls her, but it goes to voicemail. He thinks maybe she might be asleep, but something doesn’t sit right because she hasn’t texted him all day--and when she goes to bed, she always tells him goodnight. It’s a sweet sentiment, but also a warning that his lanky ass better not make too much noise when he comes home, lest he wake her up. He shakes off a feeling of malaise, and heads home.

But the hairs on his neck stand on end when he pulls up and every single one of the lights inside are off. He can’t explain it, but his Little Human alert is dinging furiously and he doesn’t know why. Taking the steps two and three at a time, he swings open the door and calls out to her.

But like, listen--the door whipping open and shutting harshly after, Bill’s loud voice calling for her? Fuck man, that’s torture when you have a migraine. And all he hears is her whimper, her choking sob, and he knows right away. And while he wants to be angry, his first instinct is just...concern. Care. He heads to the bedroom immediately, trying to walk as softly as he can.

“Oh kid,” he whispers lowly. He approaches slowly, crouching on her side of the bed and putting a soothing hand on her. She’s scrunched up so small, tensed in a tiny ball, in way too much pain.

“Billy,” she croaks out, and it’s half sob, half relief, half whimper of pain.

“It’s okay tiger, I’m here,” he whispers, “I got you.”

He’s trying not to talk too much because even a whisper is too loud, and tiger is just kind of full on crying now which is no doubt causing her even more pain.

“Hush,” he soothes, “I’ll be right back.”

There are a few things that help ease some of the pain, but more often than not, she just has to let it pass on its own. He gets some room temperature water and a straw, to help her swallow some more meds. He gets some new cold compresses, and heats up her warm ones. Granny made a ginger tea, a home remedy, that used to help with tiger’s symptoms--so he makes a mug of that.

He makes his way back to the room, puts the straw to her lips for a sip. When she’s done he just gently pushes two pain pills between her lips, giving her the straw back so she can swallow.

He doesn’t want to move her just yet--he will eventually, but he’ll let the pain meds kick in a tad first. Instead he just gently--oh, so gently--replaces the warm compress on her neck, places a new cool one on her forehead. She flinches at that one, and he apologizes softly.

She can’t sit up and sip the tea, and he purposely popped a few ice cubes in so it wouldn’t scald him. But then he just real gently dips two fingers in, and holds them to her mouth. She sucks the tea off of them that way--and he keeps doing it. Just getting a bit of liquid on his fingers and holding them to her mouth so she could wrap her lips around.

His other hand is on her somewhere--her thigh, her side. He wants to weave it through her hair but he can’t touch her head when she’s like this, even the softest head scritchies would still cause her too much pain. When she’s halfway done her tea, he starts on the second part of what usually helps her--just holding her tight, giving her something else to focus on, and pressing on a few pressure points that she taught him.

“I’m gonna move you kid,” he whispers. and she stirs a little. he climbs onto the bed as gently as he can, gathering her in his arms as he sits with his back to the headboard. She lets out an agonized whine.

“I know, I’m sorry,” he murmurs, “It’ll feel better in a second.”

He scoots her up onto him a bit more, cradles her head to his chest. He pats gently at her stomach with one hand, using his other one to pinch hard between her forefinger and her thumb. He alternates between pressing down hard on it, and rubbing slow circles.

It helps, but nothing but time will make it completely go away.

I’ll bet he falls asleep like that, doesn't he? Because pain is an exhausting thing, and after so many hours of it, tiger’s body just kind of shuts down and knocks itself out--and miraculously, she falls asleep. He hears her breaths evening out, feels some of the tension leaving her, and he too kind of sags in relief. He doesn’t dare move once she drifts off, not wanting to wake her. He knows how painful these are for her, and he’s going to have a long talk with her tomorrow about how she should have called him. How he doesn’t ever want her to be in pain like this, for that long, alone again. 

But for that night, he drifts off real soon after she does. Propped up against the headboard like that, her all curled up in his arms.

[solastia]

Say You Won’t Let Go | 4

Pairing: Jimin x Namjoon X Seokjin

Word Count: 3K

Notes: Shortish, but I decided to split up what I was working on since the smut I have planned is taking a while and I wanted to get something out to you guys. Anyway, I think it's pretty obvious where I'm taking this lmao. Lemme know what you think and oh yeah, we're still missing someone, huh? ;)

A gloomy cluster of clouds had settled over the small village, reflecting the moods of those who lived there. Jimin stared up at the sky, hoping the rains would hold off for a few days until after this crisis was past. The last thing he needed was the added worry of his mate trying to battle in the middle of a storm. Namjoon could handle himself in a fight just fine, but his beloved was surprisingly clumsy and him slipping to his death was a real possibility. 

They’d decided the best course of action was to set up a camp halfway between the village and where the possible hostile party was spotted. There the warriors would train day and night, as well as keep up a patrol of the surrounding areas so that no one could get past them to the village. Halfway was a two-day journey, so it had been a while since Jimin had gotten to see his mate. Three whole days without him. Two long and lonely nights. 

He sighs morosely and turns back to watch the villagers bustling back and forth as they prepare to evacuate. Everyone had been working day and night since they learned of the looming threat. The caves were now mostly liveable and the animals were sealed away. Those that couldn’t work - such as the elderly and young children - were already in them along with a few guards just in case. Their main concern at the moment was gathering and securing as much of their food supply as possible. Homes could be built quickly if they got destroyed, but the crops that took so long to grow and preserve were much more precious. 

Surprisingly enough, it was Seokjin that was his biggest help at the moment. Jimin supposed that without Namjoon around to be jealous over it was easier for him to make an effort to be kind and include the other omega, and so far it had proven to be a great decision. Seokjin threw himself into the work right alongside everyone else. He carried grain, herded animals, and best of all was amazingly good with numbers and actually liked making lists. He had lists of everything from livestock numbers down to every speck of seed they had. The moment he finished a task, he went right back to Jimin asking what else he could do to help him, as well as making sure that he’d taken time to eat. He was loath to admit it, but Jimin had a feeling this whole ordeal would have been much more difficult without Seokjin around. 

They were now all starting to gravitate towards the big bonfire in the middle of the village as many took the chance to prepare their suppers and fight off the crisp evening airs. Jimin observed quietly as Seokjin and Taehyung giggled together over something the elder omega had said, his ridiculous laugh enough to even make Jimin quirk a small smile in amusement. 

Seokjin was quickly winning the people over with his easygoing and good-humored personality. Even Taehyung, who was firmly on “Jimin’s Side,” couldn’t help being drawn in by the man who had taken to treating him like a younger brother. Seokjin was currently teaching Taehyung how to make the lamb that Jungkook went crazy over, so he’d be able to surprise his mate when the warriors all came back from their camp. 

Thinking of the warriors so far away makes Jimin shiver as he was wracked with more worried thoughts of his mate. He hoped Namjoon was eating and keeping warm. That he hadn’t stabbed himself or anyone else with a dagger yet. That Yoongi was able to talk him down when the burdens of his position got to be too much. 

He shivered again, drawing his fur wrap closer to himself. It was strange how he couldn’t stop shivering despite the fact that his body actually felt too hot. He supposed stress was making him get sick. Wouldn’t that just be perfect timing - to fall ill in the middle of a tribe war. Well, if there was anything he was good at it was making things worse. 

He clenched his teeth as he felt another chill, gripping his fur with a tight squeeze. The heat it added was making it worse, he was sure, but Namjoon’s scent was so strong on this one that he was unwilling to give up the comfort it brought him. 

But it was so hot. 

He missed his mate so much.

Had he already checked their healing supplies? 

He needed Namjoon. 

Head hurts so much. 

Did they stack enough wood for fires? 

“Here, drink this.” 

Jimin startled and looked up at Seokjin smiling down at him gently, holding a mug of something steaming. He took a quick sniff, scenting chamomile, ginger, and honey. 

Not that he needed the heat the drink would add, but as he’d studied with Healer Lily he knew the calming effects of Chamomile and accepted the cup eagerly. He would need extra assistance to get some sleep later. 

“Thank you,” he responded softly before taking a large sip. 

Seokjin settled into the spot next to him on the elaborately carved bench, sighing as he got comfortable. Jimin tried not to breathe in too deeply of the rich caramel scent, trying to focus on the more neutral calming ones from his tea instead. He supposed whatever was making him ill was affecting all of his senses, because he could barely stand anyone’s scent all day. Seokjin’s though...he smelled amazing. Like the sugary sweet sauce that his grandmother used on her baked apples. It was everything he could do not to nestle against the other omega and beg to be scented and cuddled. He didn’t want to freak him out, however. Seokjin wasn’t familiar yet with Jimin’s tendency to be overly touchy. 

Seokjin cracks his neck with a tired sigh, glancing down at Jimin with concern. 

“I hope you don’t mind me saying so, but you’ve been looking a little out of sorts today. Is there anything you need help with?” 

Jimin waves off his concern, sending him a friendly albeit strained smile. 

“No. Might be getting sick is all. I’ll get some herbs from Healer Lily later.” 

Seokjin nods in understanding. “A combination of stress and changing weather can do that. We’ll probably be dealing with lots of people falling ill soon.” 

He reaches out a hand to Jimin’s forehead, frowning at the temperature and light sheen of sweat building there. 

“You do feel really hot like you have a fever,” He observes Jimin thoughtfully, his eyes growing larger with concern. He leans in and sniffs Jimin’s neck. The omega shudders as Seokjin’s hot breath hit his throat, and the thought of baring it to the other wasn’t entirely unpleasant. 

Seokjin’s breathing hitches and he grasps Jimin’s shoulder. “I think you might be nearing your time.” 

Jimin growls, refusing to acknowledge the conclusion that even he himself had secretly come to. 

“That’s two months away. I’m fine. Just a little sick. I’ll go to sleep and it will be fine.” 

“Should I send a message to Namjoon, just in case?” 

Jimin shot up from the bench quickly, suddenly eager to run from Seokjin’s constant questioning. 

“No! He’s busy. We’re busy. Everything is fine.” 

And like a coward he ran away from him, escaping into the Healer’s hut. 

Lily was already in there, still packing away her supplies. She looks up when Jimin enters, her welcoming smile dimming as she takes in his scent. 

“Jimin…” 

“I know. Now is not the time, though. I have people counting on me to save them. Namjoon’s counting on me. I don’t have time for this.” 

“If it was anyone else I’d be able to give you a pouch of herbs and guarantee it would hold things off until you’re ready, but your body has often been a difficult one for me to figure out. I’ll give you the herbs, but I can’t promise they will even work the way they are supposed to.” 

Jimin growls in frustration, running his fingers through his hair. “So what am I supposed to do? Why is this even happening? I’m two months early!” 

“I imagine the stress affected your cycle. It’s very common, dear. I will give you the herbs and we can hope for the best.” She ruffled around in a large sack, pulling out a couple of smaller packages and handing them to him with a shrug. 

“If you want my honest opinion, I think you should just head to the caves and ride it out without them until your mate arrives. We have everything well in hand here and everything is prepared to be stored in the caves. You’ve done all you can, Jimin.” She grasps his shoulder softly to comfort him as he groans, planting his face in his palms. 

“Just stay close to your people, just in case.” 

He sighs in defeat and clutches the bags of herbs close to his chest, murmuring a distracted goodbye to the old healer. He hurries back to his nearly empty dwelling, glad that he’d at least had the foresight (or honestly, Seokjin had) to leave a few dishes behind. 

He sets a kettle of water to boil over the small contraption that Yoongi had made them last year when he’d started tinkering around with their blacksmith - a portable cooking surface that only needed a bit of tinder to get going. Jimin loved it because he didn’t have to deal with the firepit or go to the cooking lodge to make something. He could fire it up right there in his house and have a lovely cup of tea without worry. 

He shoved some twigs and birch bark into the opening and struck his fire-steel a few times in front of it, blowing when a spark finally took. The simple act of starting a fire was familiar and calming enough to get him out of his head for a moment. 

He hummed to himself as he grabbed his kettle and filled it with water he had collected from the cooking lodge earlier. He opens the leather bags and sniffs at the herbs, nodding as he recognizes them. He figures one cup will do for now and pinches about two spoonfuls of herbs into the water. He sets the kettle to boil and sits down at his little table, ignoring the twinge of longing when he spots his furs. He would love nothing more than to just wrap himself up in his nest and have Namjoon make love to him for the next few days. He’d feel safe and loved, nestled in those familiar strong arms. 

Instead, he was here, alone, trying to save their village. 

The wooden door opened as Seokjin shuffled inside, smiling when he spots Jimin. 

Perhaps not completely alone, he guesses. 

“You saw Lily?” 

Jimin nods, waving towards the kettle. “This should stop it. I at least need to make it long enough to get to the caves tomorrow. After that...I guess we’ll see.” 

“Well, if you need anything in the meantime just let me know. I’m here to help,” Seokjin says brightly, but Jimin can see he’s merely trying to cheer him up. He was so nice. 

“Why were you unmated so long?” 

He gasps and covers his mouth, but the damage has been done.

Thankfully, Seokjin just chuckles. “ You know, that’s been everyone else’s first question. I was starting to wonder when you would ask.” 

“I’m sorry, you don’t need to answer.” 

He shrugs and grabs a mug from a shelf, pouring Jimin’s now boiling tea. His eyebrows crinkle as though he’s lost in thought, even as he shuffles around and pulls out the small crock of honey and adds some to the mug. He pushes it towards Jimin with a flat smile. 

“I suppose if anyone around here deserves the full story, it’s you.” 

Jimin takes a sip, watching the other omega curiously. 

“To put it bluntly, I’ve never been attracted to alphas.”

Jimin nearly spits his mouthful of tea, swallowing it with a cough at the last moment instead. 

“What? But you...and he...you have…” he stutters, trying to understand. 

Seokjin nods, “Don’t get me wrong, as far as alphas go, Namjoon is very handsome. My body instinctively recognizes him as Pack Alpha and my bonded mate, allowing me to do...what we do. Perhaps in time, I can see that he could easily become one of my dearest friends and potentially a wonderful father for my pups.” 

“But…” Jimin prompts, leaning over his cup curiously. 

“But, “ Seokjin shrugs, “I just have never been romantically attracted to alphas.” 

“So, that means…”

Seokjin quirks an eyebrow in amusement. “That means I am romantically and sexually attracted to omegas, yes.” 

“Oh,” Jimin took another sip of his tea, staring at the quietly laughing Seokjin in shock. 

“Indeed. Don’t you have intersex couples here?” 

Jimin thought about it, shrugging. 

“If we do, I don’t really know. I’m not saying it bothers me, I just wasn’t expecting it.” 

Seokjin nods, leaning in his chair as he observes Jimin. 

“What about betas?” 

Seokjin shrugs, “Never really met anyone that intrigued me enough to wonder.” 

“Have you ever…” 

“Yes. That’s why I was unmated for such a long time.” 

“Oh, I see.” 

Seokjin sighs and props his chin in his hand, looking at the wall beyond Jimin. 

“His name was Jaehwan. We’ve known each other since we were kids, much like you and Namjoon. Things progressed over the years and I fell in love. I thought that was it. I was going to grow old with him, give up mating and pups. I was fine as long as I had him.” 

“So what happened?” Jimin asked, thoroughly enthralled in the story, his heart already hurting for the man since he knew the ending. 

“A neighboring small pack petitioned Jaehwan’s father, wanting to court him and make him Pack Omega. And Jae...he was thrilled. Said Hakyeon was beautiful and he was so happy that an alpha wanted to make him Pack Omega at his age. He couldn’t stop talking about pups and mates and…” 

Seokjin sniffled and Jimin flew into action, crawling around the table to stroke the omega’s arm in comfort. 

“He didn’t think anything was wrong with the way he was acting. When I finally got enough courage to ask what he was going to do about me he said that we both knew we couldn’t stay together forever because that’s not how omegas work.” 

“I hope he...falls into the ocean and gets eaten by a whale,” Jimin spits. 

Seokjin chuckles softly, wiping his eyes of the couple tears that had escaped. 

“So fierce for someone so small.” 

“Hey!” 

Seokjin truly laughed that time, loud and obnoxious like the ones he always shared with Taehyung. Jimin didn’t know why making him laugh like that made him feel proud. 

“He didn’t fall into the ocean. That was a few years ago now. I hear their pack is doing well and he already has a pup and another on the way. I’m...happy for him. I think I loved him too long to really hate him,” Seokjin sighs.

“Anyway, everyone in my pack knew of my...preferences, so no one pressured me to move on after that. When we heard of this packs need...I don’t know. I wasn’t trying to escape or anything. My father was perfectly fine with me staying there and being who I am. He already has a dozen grandkids from each of my siblings. I just...I heard Jungkook and Yoongi talking about the situation and I could see how their hearts were hurting even having to make such a request. They told everyone how much the two of you were in love and what a sacrifice you were making for your pack. I couldn’t stand by and let someone take advantage of what the two of you had. I really am here just to help. Not to hurt you or Namjoon or this pack.” 

“Thank you,” Jimin finally responded quietly after a few moments. 

Seokjin nods, leaning over to place his hand on his forehead. 

“Still feels hot, but not much worse than it was earlier. How long does the tea take to kick in?” 

“Depends on my body, which usually is the worst. Maybe an hour.” 

“Hm. It’s late anyway, let's go to bed and see how you feel in the morning.” 

Suddenly, the thought of sleeping alone yet again was more than he could bear. 

“Can you…nevermind. It’s stupid. Sorry.” 

Jimin flushed, cursing his pre-heat brain. He scrambled to his furs and crawled inside.

“What do you need, Jimin.” 

The way that Seokjin was hovering over his furs and speaking so forcefully had Jimin shivering with something he didn’t want to acknowledge. 

“I just...when I’m in heat I need...to cuddle. A lot. It’s really annoying and I’m sorry for even asking. It’s probably really awkward.” 

“I’d love to if it’s really alright. I sometimes get extra touchy during my heat too, so I understand.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah, scoot over. Just don’t hog the furs, it’s fucking freezing out there.” 

Jimin laughs as Seokjin slides under the furs with him, hearing the ‘perfect’ omega cussing somehow extra funny to him. 

“Aren’t you from some place where it snows all the time?” 

“Doesn’t mean I liked it! Maybe that's the real reason I left. I was sick of having to set my dick out to thaw every spring.” 

Jimin curled up as laughter wracked his entire body until his belly hurt. Finally, Seokjin pat his head and yawned loudly. 

“Night, Jimin.” 

“Goodnight.” 

Jimin smiled to himself as he drifted off, warm and not alone for the first time in days. 

[saoirsetm]

hey y’all ! i’m kat and we’re FINALLY opening ?!? i’m so hyped, you don’t even know. i’m a double leo Trying to survive video lectures in a noisy house who loves dark chocolate and 80% of the kpop releases so far this year ( stream feel good by fromis_9, it’s such a cute bop ! ) i’m also a cat mom to my almost fourteen year old babies who are still like energetic kittens, so ask for pics and you shall receive DSLKGJ but without further ado, here’s my girl who’s gonna prove that hindsight is INDEED 20/20, so this is gonna be fun:

✧ ˖ * ° ><> ╱  abigail cowen,  cis female,  she/her  —  look  who’s  fresh  from  the  ferry,  aren’t  you  SAOIRSE LEARY  ?  your  eroda  brochure  says  you’re  TWENTY-THREE  and  that  you’re  currently  residing  in  MARMOTON  .  your  favourite  tourist  attraction  to  hang  around  is  ERODIAN BEACH  ,  and  the  locals  around  these  ports  would  describe  you  as  INQUISITIVE  &  INTREPID,  STUBBORN  &  IMPULSIVE  .  your  resting  fish  face  really  gives  off  LONG HAIR BLOWN BACK BY THE OCEAN BREEZE, LATE NIGHTS SPENT PLOTTING THE NEXT GREAT VOYAGE, RED LIPSTICK IMPRINTED ON A MUG OF TEA  ,  and  i’m  a  big  fan  of  the  VINTAGE CELTIC KNOT NECKLACE  you  seem  to  always  be  attached  to.  well,  if  you  see  the  minister  this  morning;  make  sure  you  head  on  home  as  quick  as  possible,  you  never  know  what  bad  luck  he  could  bring.  ╱  ooc;  kat,  23,  she/her,  ast.

tw: needles ( tattoo mention ), cancer mention, death mention

miss saoirse...... oof

GDFLSJL where do i begin with her honestly ??

full name is saoirse eve leary, affectionately called cece by her family since she was young and runs with it as her nickname !

born and raised in cork, ireland with two siblings, a working class father and Slightly upper middle class mother

her childhood wasn’t like, Majorly eventful; she was considered a bit of a tomboy which isn’t a surprise bc she’s always been a bit of a spirited, adventurous girl, has the odd nomadic moment strike her and loves to travel

had a SUPER close relationship with her maternal grandmother before she passed a few years back, still has a close one with her grandfather and paternal grandmother as they’re still living

is a big family girl overall, so much so that she’s eagerly awaiting the day she gets to be the cool aunt

had a decent cluster of pals over the years that’s likely dwindled due to everyone going their separate ways after high school

saoirse Did go to uni between her travels — and graduated — and has aspirations of becoming an anthropologist to explore other cultures and meet new people/understand them

which.. obviously ain’t happening now LFSGJGF rip

came to eroda partially bc it seems like such a pretty and quaint place, partially to explore its “ myth ” that you can never leave; her naturally curious ass questions the whole thing, at least in the sense that there’s no way to challenge your supposed fate on the island and won’t deny entertaining some conspiracy theories around the mystery

she still doesn’t understand that.. yeah, she Literally is stuck here for the rest of her life now, probably because she hasn’t made a Real attempt to put that to the test, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it FDSLKJDS

anyways she came here solo ( more than likely ) and has enjoyed her time getting to know the locals and other visitors, taking in the scenery, etc

probably took up a part-time job at sally’s tavern to cover her expenses since she lives in marmoton and it ought to be close enough for her to get to gfjlsdg

personality and everything else

a sociable, ( relatively ) fearless ginger with an eclectic taste in music and a profound appreciation for pastries.. 

despite being all about cleaner eating habits and lowering her sugar intake, she takes a cheat day or week wherever she can LSDGFJK

parties, game nights, etc, you name it ?? she’s there !

kinda competitive while we’re bringing up games and such, but she’s not about the whole sore winner/loser thing — rather she’ll groan and sulk a little before moving on

like i said before, loves to travel, loves pretty places in general so prepare yourself for an abundance of pictures on her insta feed of where she’s been or where she wants to go

loyal as hell, but she has her limit if you misuse the trust that comes with it

she’s just v wholesome and has a mix of small town city/endlessly curious energy with a sprinkle of being the life of the party……. kinda

however, she’s the most ?? hard to place person all the same

that feeling of freedom that comes with her exploring and all makes her a little hard to tie down; she doesn’t plan on staying in eroda ( which is unfortunate for her considering.... fglsdk ) as she has more to accomplish and see

very much does her own thing and doesn’t wanna hear any criticism for it

as if she’s that out of line DLJGDSLK but still

always wants to try new things, no matter how dumb they might be; except for anything that’s a Legitimate death sentence or is.. a GENUINELY dumb idea, she has enough common sense to know what Not to do KSGFDJDS

has little tattoos on her wrist and behind her left ear for her Favourite trips/symbols/whatever and her family, will let y’all know what they’d be whenever i figure them out since i’m so damn picky with these things

a Big supporter for buying/investing locally, has little trinkets and such to prove it

in fact, she has a collection of thrifted or vintage clothes from her travels and back home, and a chest full of cute jewelry she switches between daily

one piece she wears all the time — only parts with it when she sleeps — is the celtic knot pendant mentioned in her app that’s become something of an heirloom on her mom’s side of the family !

she has the cutest irish lilt in my mind, kinda the same as miss ronan’s and aisling bea’s

really loves her freckles, partially bc i love her freckles and my own :(

tea > coffee, but she loves coffee-flavoured things; bring her a peppermint or camomile tea as her shift winds down or.. idk, just because, and she’ll be forever indebted to you fldjgs

loves to hang out by the water in her free time — she loves the scent and sounds that comes with it, it’s one of the few places where she can put her mind to rest for a bit

the sound of rain hitting a rooftop is her perfect sleep soundtrack

kinda wants to adopt a pet, but doesn’t wanna leave them if she goes on an excursion where they can’t come with her :(

baths with epsom salts, candles that smell like lavender or something just as pleasant and calming, etc during a night in soothes the hell out of her soul

top three products she has in her bag at all times, besides personal info and her phone ? lip balm, a powder spf and mints FGLGKSD

btw.. miss ginger hair and freckles will probably gasp at anyone going out with no spf on them and scold tf out of them bc ‘ hello, melanoma ?? sunburn ?!? ’

wanted connections

childhood pal(s) she’s bumped into: reunited by chance, cece’s glad she has a couple of people she knows to keep her grounded when her mind runs wild at what Might happen when she decides to try her hand at leaving

cousin(s), other relatives: idk, figured it’d be fun for her to have a family member or two running around and not realizing the other relative is the Only one they’ll see in person from here on out

best pal(s) in eroda: someone she’s taken to since arriving, likely spending their free-time eating pastries on the beach, talking shit over tea, little market dates, going to the rainzone half-drunk and trying to rope each other into new things

opposites attract.. of sorts sfdlgkj: basically just a traveler meeting a local who’s never been off eroda, telling all about their ( quite limited ) excursions and bonding in other areas over time !

hook-ups, fwbs.... ENEMIES with benefits?? idk, point is the girl’s probably gotten laid since arriving, it’s all a matter of the situation that fits your muse(s) best FHGSDKJ

roommate: she lives in marmoton, likely in a rental of sorts, and i can’t see her living alone given the situation on the island ( though i’ve viewed her as the type to live alone in a space for one and a half people any other time tbh ). so she has just One and they make the arrangement work ! depending on their personalities and such, we’ll figure out how well they get along Exactly, if at all

ex ??: the girl’s bi so y’all can toss anyone at her for this one as well ! question marks bc i was thinking it’d be an on-and-off thing but maybe not come the time i post this intro LSGKD. basically they were seeing each other for a few months, she fell hard Quick/they moved kinda fast bc they were vibing and they would distance themselves upon realizing this — though i see cece giving them distance bc she knows they need it rather than needing it herself. if it IS on-and-off, they’re definitely off rn and treading lightly ( though she finds it hard to stray and hates things not being fully resolved no matter what happens ?? ), so all it’s a bit angsty regardless of how it goes dfgkljsdg

fellow mystery fiend: someone please fuel her curiosity to the max and try to crack the impossible case of eroda’s captive capabilities with her.. and proceed to watch true crime shows with her when that clearly goes to shit SDFKLJ

older sibling or mentor dynamic: someone to look out for her/teach her some things to help fully support herself/give her advice when she probably needs it most.. idk, i just like the idea of someone becoming a stand-in relative type of friend to her 

just give her someone to confide in, to swim at night with, stargaze and all that cute shit, be it platonically or otherwise !

she’s not gonna click with everyone and that’s fine, BUT maybe they run in the same social circles and cece thinks they seem nice enough, but they never really talk amongst themselves ?? just a case of awkwardly starting from scratch and seeing where it takes us !

[writerwaage]

Between the Pages Chapter One

Hello, Luka here! I’m popping in to say that Between the Pages no longer has the same plot the wip intro says it does. oopsies! Between the Pages is still a mlm romance, but instead of taking place through annotations of a book, it is a Christmas romance! I am working on a new introduction for the wip, so it should be up in a day or two. Anyway, enjoy chapter one of Between the Pages!

Length: ~ 1900 words

Warnings: none

The quaint bookshop twinkled with the sweet, candy glow of multicolored lights strung up along the bookshelves. The overhead lights were dimmed, creating an unusually intimate atmosphere that wrapped Alexander up like a security blanket. Terri had always made Between the Pages feel like home, but it was especially true once the weather began to cool down and Halloween had passed. He knocked the snow off his boots before stepping inside, greeted by wordless jazz crackling overhead, the smell of spice cookies, and the prickling of heat returning to his half-frozen face. In the corner, Terri had set up a tree and a little sign asking for book donations to keep the shop running. It was just after Thanksgiving and she was already on top of the décor.

           Alexander shrugged his jacket off and cradled it in the crook of his arm. “Terri?” He started to make his way to the small coffee bar on the other side of the tree, already finding a natural sway in his step in time with the quiet saxophone. Normally he would have a chat with her about her newest selection, but he was too impatient to wait for her to return to the counter. The small table was loaded to the brim with hot chocolate packets, pods for the Keurig, and fixings sure not to spoil an hour after being set out. He selected a mug off the display mounted above the table. It was especially cool in his hands, and the red, glossy ceramic reflected soft greens and blues from the tree, dazzling Alexander for the briefest moment.

           One pod of coffee, enough creamer to turn the coffee to milk chocolate, two packets of sweetener, and one packet of hot chocolate. The sweet aromas were a much-welcomed sensation after the brisk journey in the elements of Heartview. Alexander took his finished drink and carefully wrapped one hand around the mug, careful not to burn himself as he thawed out. The first sip filled the deepest pits of his body and gave him the comfort of home. He made his way to the shelves, taking small sips of his drink. Every moment he took for himself within the shop was a moment he savored.

           Bookshelves towered over him, each one lined neatly lined with books. Alexander basked in the sweet vanilla-and-almond aroma and took a second to enjoy it before he even began to search the titles. Every book in this shop had been pre-owned. The idea of sharing the same experience with people that came before him thrilled Alexander. He loved imagining the thoughts they were having as they read- if they had loved the same moments he did or drew the same conclusions about the story in advance. His eyes traveled along the spines, waiting for one to stand out among the rest. The books on the other side tempted him as well. What mysteries were bound in there?

           He reached out and touched the books, letting his fingers linger along the rough edges of the particularly well-loved editions. Alexander walked along the row, stopping somewhere in the middle. He was in a daydream now, his mind lost in the gentle music and habit of what he was doing. This book seemed right. He pulled it off the shelf, turning it and feeling the weight in his hand shift as he inspected it.

The quiet click of a camera shutter pulled him out of his daydream. Alexander looked over toward the sound and saw a man kneeling a few feet away from him, camera lens angled up toward him. He felt a warm rush flood his face, different than the warmth that greeted him when he first entered the shop.

The man stood up and stared at the screen, inspecting the picture he just took. To Alexander, the silence between them grew more and more awkward with the lingering lack of acknowledgement. After another agonizing second, the photographer looked up.

“So sorry about that. Mrs. Mulligan hired me to take photos of the bookshop for Heartview’s town website. Not many people have come in, so I just had to seize the opportunity of a customer browsing without any of the awful stiffness people get around cameras.” He let go of the camera, letting it hang by the strap around his neck.

Alexander nodded slowly, still a bit stunned by the shutter to be anything but flustered. “Could I see the picture?”

The man stepped next to him, much closer than Alexander would have expected. As he was pulling the image up, he nearly forgot to breathe. The photographer was a little taller than he initially took him to be. When he finally remembered to take in a breath, he was greeted with another wonderfully cozy blend of peppermint, coffee, and chocolate. “Here you go.”

It was surreal to Alexander. The image captured him in his own little world of wonder, framed by loose lights strung up along the shelves. They were in a hazy focus, leading the eyes to his fascination with the book’s cover. Never in a million years would he perceive himself as the photo portrayed him. “It’s really...,” he paused for a moment, trying to think of what it was he could say about it, “really good.” Nothing particularly insightful, obviously.

Alexander looked up, unintentionally meeting his eyes. “I haven’t seen you around Heartview before. Have you moved in recently?”

“No, I’m just here for a while to take up-to-date pictures of the town. All the festivities that are offered and the like.”

He offered a smile, taking a small step to the side to give this stranger some much-deserved personal space. “Well, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Alexander, by the way. O’Callaghan.” He sat his book down haphazardly on the closest shelf and extended his hand.

“Chet.” He shook his hand. “Jiang.” A smile flitted across his lips as he introduced himself. Alexander let himself have a moment to assess him. Chet was definitely from out of town, lacking the quaintness every Heartview resident seemed to take ownership of the moment they put down roots. The black stud earrings were a dead giveaway, but so was the way he carried himself. He could do anything he strived for, and he knew it. The ambition was sorely lacking in many throughout the town, those who were fully satisfied doing the same thing every day without end. Alexander was almost ashamed to admit that he too was comfortable in the tracks he wore himself down into.

Alexander picked up the book again, but he was much more interested in Chet than anything else he could possibly be focusing on in the moment. “Where are you staying?” With a town as small as Heartview, there were limited options, unless he had decided to stay in the town a few miles away that had the usual smattering of hotels and fast food joints most touristy areas tended to have.

“The Starlight Inn.”

That was probably the best inn Heartview had to offer, if Alexander had to play favorites. Part of that was because it was owned by Terri’s wife, Lorraine. Just like Between the Pages, the day after Thanksgiving, the inn was decked from ceiling to floorboard in festive and undeniably cozy décor. He smiled, recalling the evening he spent with the couple decorating the lobby. “Good choice.”

Before their conversation proceeded any further, a rather petite woman emerged from the back room, wild ginger hair pulled up off her neck with a red-and-green tinsel scrunchie. For as long as he could remember, Terri took Christmas to 110%. From the day after Thanksgiving to the day after Christmas, she exclusively wore tacky sweaters, blasted seasonal music, and partook in as many of the town’s events as her work schedule would allow.

“Alex! I didn’t hear you come in, sorry. I was just finishing up my lunch.” Terri propped her arm on his shoulder, treating him as the arm rest she used him as during high school though he had since shot up to be quite a few inches taller than her since then. “I see you’ve met Mr. Jiang. His work is fantastic, captures the heart of his subject.”

“Mrs. Mulligan, please, you’re too kind.” Chet placed a hand over his chest, the quick, subtle smile coming back just long enough for Alexander to catch it.

“It’s like magic… I think you’re going to show what Heartview truly is.” It was more open than Alexander was accustomed to being, but it was true. He had never seen so much life in a still image before.

Terri clapped her hands together, her face lighting up. “Alex, you should show Chet around Heartview. You know the season just as well as I do, and he needs somebody to show him what we’re all about. So he can ‘show what Heartview truly is.’”

Alexander felt his cheeks begin to burn as the spotlight of attention spun right onto him. “Well, I don’t know about that…”

“Oh, come on, you’d be great at it.” Terri took his arm and shook him back and forth. “No one else is more qualified than my best friend.”

“I would have thought Lorraine was your best friend,” he smiled, feeling himself giving in to her suggestion already.

“Well of course she’s my best friend. But firstly, she’s my wife. And secondly, she has to work. You, on the other hand, are available all the time, so you can go to all the good events during the day that Lorraine and I can’t take Mr. Jiang to.”

           “I’d really appreciate someone showing me around.” Chet crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the corner of the shelf behind him.

           Alexander let out a half-defeated sigh. It wasn’t as if he had any plans for the next couple weeks, anyway. What was the harm in showing him around, especially if he was doing this for the town? “Alright, I’ll do it.” He smiled and nodded, mostly hoping to reassure himself that this was a good idea.

           Chet smiled again, this time letting it make a more permanent home on his face. “Fantastic! Do you want my number? We can talk more about events and locations later.” He was already pulling out his phone.

           Alexander nodded and stumbled over himself, sitting his book back down and digging through the pockets on his coat to find his phone. He unlocked it and exchanged contact information with him as quickly as possible. Once again, he was surprised by a camera shutter, this time coming from Chet’s phone instead of the camera around his neck.

           He smiled at the screen. “You’re a pretty good model.” Alexander didn’t know what to say, other than an awkwardly formed thank you paired with a weird fluttering in his chest.

           “I, um… I’ll let you get back to work.”

Alexander pressed his lips together. His heart was beating much, much faster than it was just ten minutes ago. He slid his phone into his pocket, finished his drink, shrugged his coat back on, and left. Snow began to fall, adding another sheet to the blankets already covering the curb. Streetlights were decked with thick, ruby red ribbons and an evergreen garland twisted along the black poles. Couples and families dotted the sidewalks and an odd car passed by on the salted roads. Tinny carols backed the laughter that echoed against festive store fronts. Alexander pulled his coat a little closer to himself, making his way back home.

As close as he lived to Main Street, he’d miss the pleasant comfort being around others brought. Maybe helping Chet would make this Christmas feel a little more like home.

Thank you for reading! Any attention this gets is greatly appreciated. If you’d like to be added to the taglist, comment or send me a message!

Tags: @sunwornpages​ @writerofthecosmos​ @reeseweston​ @reininginthefirewriting​

[noorakardemmomesaetre]

Through the Snowfall - Chapter Two 

Or Read It On Ao3

Pairing: Betty Cooper x Jughead Jones

Summary: The Coopers and Andrews have rented the same cabin in the woods every holiday season since their kids were two years old.

And with Archie and Betty leaving for college in just a few months, Betty is determined to make this Christmas a memorable one…by telling Archie how she really feels.

What she doesn’t plan for is Archie bringing his best friend.

Or the way her gaze is suddenly lingering on the wild dark curls peeking out from beneath a crown beanie rather than the ginger spikes she’d set her sights on so long ago.

Chapter Two: Sunrise 

6:03AM

Betty stares at the alarm clock beside her bed until her eyes burn and she sighs, pressing her palms to her now closed eyes.

She’s tossed and turned all night knowing that he’s sleeping soundly in the room just down the hall from her. She’s dreamed of this moment, of the possibility of her slipping into his room under the cover of darkness, sharing whispered secrets and possibly even kisses beneath his heavily quilted comforter.

But that’s not what’s kept her up. It’s the fact that that same opportunity she’s dreamed of is presenting itself to her now, as it has been for the better half of two hours, and she hasn’t necessarily felt the urge to take it.

And why the hesitation? Because a good-looking guy with a kind smile and warmth behind his eyes has shown up unexpectedly?

That’s enough, she silently decides. Being distracted by Jughead’s good looks and playful wit is absolutely no reason to debate my feelings for Archie. I’ll tell him tonight.

Veronica is snuggled beneath her blankets, snoring gently, and Betty envies her ability to sleep peacefully while her own mind feels so incredibly loud.

She tugs on her robe hanging from one of her bedposts, slipping her feet from beneath her blankets into her plush slippers. Perhaps a mug of hot chamomile tea will quiet her overthinking and she’ll be able to get at least a couple of hours of sleep.

She’s making her way past the main hallway bathroom when the door suddenly opens, startling her. She stops and her fingers immediately fly to the messy bun lazily tied atop her head.

“Sorry!” Jughead whispers, shutting off the light and stepping into the hallway, only feet from her. He motions to his toothbrush and offers her an apologetic smile. “Had to brush my teeth.”

“At 6:00 in the morning?” she asks softly, a playful edge to her tone as she regains her composure. “I didn’t take you for an early riser.”

“I’m definitely not,” he murmurs quickly, his free hand falling to the back of his neck as though he needs to ease some tension there. “But Archie told me how you all like to get ready for breakfast around this time so I thought I’d try to get out of the way of the bathroom before you and Veronica wake up.”

She wonders silently if he knows how endearing he looks when he does that. Rubs the back of his neck nervously. But then the realization of what he says hits her and she tugs her bottom lip between her teeth to keep herself from giggling aloud.

“Oh, Jug,” she sighs, shaking her head partly because of what she needs to tell him and partly because she can’t believe she just referred to him with such familiarity. “That’s so thoughtful, but I think Archie is playing a trick on you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Brunch doesn’t start until 10:30am…”

His hand falls from behind his neck and he closes his eyes, an amused smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Right." He laughs before focusing on her once more and she finds herself tucking a few loose strands of hair that have fallen from her bun behind her ear as she smiles up at him. “Well, I’m really happy I ran into you out here then, Betty.”

She looks down at her slippers in an attempt to ignore the unfamiliar warmth spreading through her chest, before she lifts her gaze to meet his once more.

He clears his throat and takes a step towards his and Archie's designated bedroom, motioning with the blue toothbrush still firmly clasped in his hand. “I guess I’ll head back to sleep.”

“Goodnight Jughead,” she says easily, before remembering it’s now morning and grimacing at her mistake.

But instead of correcting her, he chuckles and gives her a genuine smile. “Goodnight Betty.”

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

“I’m so excited we’re finally going out to the snow!” Alice says, clapping her hands together as everyone settles into the living room to tie on their snow boots. It’s been two days since everyone’s arrival to the cabin and Alice’s excitement for a family outing to the snow has been no secret.

Veronica whispers something to Betty about feeling like the Michelin woman in the snowsuit Alice has insisted she wear and Betty bites the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.

“Remember when we went sledding last year, Betty, and you couldn’t make it halfway down the hill without falling off?” Archie asks from across the living room, smiling to himself at the memory.

Betty finds herself grinning at him and rolling her eyes. “I was actually trying not to remember that, but thank you for sharing.”

“Okay, enough chatter!” Mary says as Fred helps her zip up her shin-length black snow jacket. “Let’s go!”

Betty helps Veronica to her feet and they can’t help the giggles they share as they take in each other’s fluffy and oversized outfits.

“Kids! Get together for a photo! I need to document this,” Alice says, nudging Betty and Veronica over to where the boys are attempting to stand. She positions the four of them in front of the fireplace, making sure to push Betty in between Veronica and Archie.

Betty hopes her eye roll isn’t as noticeable as it had felt.

After a few dozen pictures are taken with Betty looking grumpier and grumpier with each shot, they all make their way down the snow-plowed road towards where the few families taking up residence here are sledding and building snowmen.

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

An hour later, Archie heads back up the hill with his saucer sled in tow, his cheeks flushed from the cold. He’s waving at all of them excitedly and Betty can’t help but give him two enthusiastic thumbs up for his run.

He heads over to them and his eyes are shining because sledding with his friends is his favorite part of vacation. Or at least she thinks she remembers him saying something about that several winters ago.

But her train of thought regarding their past is interrupted when-

“Veronica, come with me this time! I’ll take you down,” he’s saying, holding up the saucer cheerfully alongside his invitation.

Something tugs uncomfortably on Betty’s heart as Veronica turns to her, her face fully reflecting how obviously torn she feels. “No, no, I think you should take Betty-”

“I can take Betty later, she always falls off-”

“I really think you should take her, Archie-”

“No, it’s okay,” Betty cuts her off with what she hopes is a reassuring smile that doesn’t reflect the pain stinging the corners of her eyes. “You should go.”

“Yes!” Archie pumps his fist in the air, his grin widening as he makes his way over to the very top of the hill. He sets the saucer down and waves for Veronica to join him.

“Are you sure?” Veronica asks, concern laced through her voice as she searches Betty’s face until Betty reaches over and squeezes her hand.

“Of course I’m sure! Go have fun, I’ve been wanting some hot chocolate anyways.”

Veronica hesitates for a few more seconds before Archie calls her name once more and she heads over to join him on the sled. She wedges herself between his legs, her back pressed against his front and Betty pretends not to notice what a perfect fit they are and how far her heart has dropped.

She heads over to a spot of untouched snow beneath a sea of large trees and stares at the ground for a moment before turning around and allowing herself to fall on her back.

The snow pillows around her and she spreads her arms and legs out wide before moving them up and down and side to side. Up and down. Side to Side. Up and Down.

Her gaze is fixated on the snow-covered branches above her and for the first time since the boys have arrived, her mind is truly quiet. She feels comforted by the serenity of being surrounded by the snow.

“Are you trying to make a snow angel?”

His deep voice tears through the silence she had just begun to enjoy, but when she sees it’s him she's not bothered by the interruption.

“What does it look like?”

“If I’m being honest, it looks like a Jackson Pollock attempt at a snow angel,” he teases and she can almost see the way he’s smiling as he says it.

She grabs a fistful of snow in her glove and sits up, throwing it at him before laughter falls from her lips. He doesn’t attempt to dodge it, the unballed snow exploding in the air and falling around him rather than hitting him. He tilts his head, grinning at her and shaking his head.

She lays back down, continuing her half-hearted snow angel movements and though a small part of her hopes he joins her, she doesn’t ask.

And she doesn’t need to. A few seconds later, he lays down in the snow beside her, leaving only a couple of inches between his outspread fingers and her own.

They’re quiet for a few moments with only the sounds of their movements and gentle breathing between them. Birds chirp amongst each other as they fly through the branches above their heads and Betty stills her arms and legs.

Jughead follows her lead and Betty pretends not to notice that they’ve stopped with their arms spread in the widest positions...his gloved fingers almost touching hers.

“Is your family sad you won’t be joining them for Christmas this year?”

She’s not sure why she’s asked him about his family, but there’s something about laying next to him surrounded by the safety of nature that has prompted her interest in who he is.

At least that’s what she tells herself.

“I don’t think so,” he responds quietly and she’s afraid she’s touched a nerve before he continues, “my mother left with my little sister when I was much younger and I doubt my father is sober enough to notice I’m gone.”

“Oh.” The word leaves her lips in a breath that crystallizes as soon as it hits the air.  “I’m so sorry, I had no idea-”

“Don’t worry about it,” he murmurs, turning his head to look at her and she does the same. “If I didn’t want you to know, Betty, I wouldn’t have told you.”

His eyes are electric against the backdrop of glistening white snow and she feels her heart beating erratically in response to the intensity of his gaze.

“Do you miss her? Your sister?”

The sounds of Archie’s giddy hollering and Veronica’s squeals pierce the air as they head down another hill, but the noise fades as she awaits his answer.

“There’s never a moment I don’t miss her.”

“And your mom?”

His eyes darken at that question and Betty immediately regrets asking it, but before she can take it back, he shrugs.

“That’s a bit more complicated, I’ll admit.”

“Totally understandable, I’m sorry to be so nosy,” she apologizes, turning her head so that she can focus her gaze on anything other than the adorable way his nose has pinkened in the cold.

“You’re not being nosy,” he says, mirroring her movements and turning back to stare up at the cloudy sky. “I don't know why, but I don’t mind answering anything you want to ask me.”

She’s quiet at that, but she shifts the tiniest bit so that the tips of her gloved fingers touch his. If he’s noticed, he doesn’t say anything.

After a moment, his tongue runs against his bottom lip before he quietly asks, “tell me something about you now?”

“Um...I’ve only applied to colleges out-of-state,” she admits so softly she’s sure he couldn’t have heard her, immediately closing her eyes.

“That’s great, Betty! Which states?”

His interest and encouragement surprises her and she responds with a bit more confidence, “Connecticut, Rhode Island, and New Hampshire.”

“An Ivy League girl,” he says, turning to look at her once more with a cheeky smile on his face. “I should’ve known.”

She genuinely laughs at that and the sound catches her off guard. She tosses some snow at him and he moves his hands to block it, his own laughter now intermingling with hers.

She turns back to watching the birds flying amongst the branches, but she doesn’t miss the way he smiles to himself when she does so.

“What’s making you so happy over there, Jones?”

“Nothing… it’s just that I-”

A snowball hitting him square in the chest interrupts him mid-sentence and they both sit up to see Archie holding his stomach, chuckling loudly. Veronica is standing next to him, her cheeks flushed from their many sled rides.

“Archie,” she finally says and Betty watches as they exchange a knowing look.

“Betty!” Archie turns his attention to her now and lifts the round sled in the air once more. “Let’s see how far you can make it down the bunny hill without falling this time, yeah?”

She rolls her eyes, but grins as she stands up from her accurately-described-by-Jughead snow angel. Archie takes her movement as a yes and gives her a thumbs up before heading to the top of a smaller hill. Veronica smiles at her supportively, but Betty can’t read the expression in her eyes as she turns to make her way over to where the parents are hoarding thermoses of hot chocolate.

Betty’s about to move to join Archie when she stops suddenly and turns around to find Jughead now standing, brushing snow from the sleeves of his flannel jacket.

“Jughead?”

“Yeah?”

“I haven’t actually told anyone about the college thing yet so if you could...um...not talk to anyone about that-”

“What college thing?” he interrupts and she’s about to remind him of what she’s literally just told him - how could he have possibly already forgotten? - when a small smile plays on his lips and he winks at her.

She doesn’t stop smiling until she’s comfortably settled between Archie’s legs on the sled and heading down the semi-steep hill.

She falls off within twenty seconds of take off and decides perhaps tomorrow will be a better day to confess her feelings for him.

For Archie.

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

leave a comment if you’d like, i love hearing your thoughts! ❤️❄️☃️

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Bad Things Happen Bingo: Worked Themselves to Exhaustion

Heeeey, @badthingshappenbingo​ is finally underway! @burtlederp​ asked for Worked Themselves to Exhaustion with Ryan as our POV/Main, so here it is! 

Bloodstains = requested, puppy sticker = completed

This is set post-rescue and post-trial. Tagging the crew: @spiffythespook​, @bleeding-demon-teeth​, and @special-spicy-chicken​!

CW: Very little, actually! Some references to parental abuse and implied/references past assault/violence, but mostly this is just Ryan being Ryan

Ryan woke up with a start to discover he’d fallen asleep sitting at the kitchen table, forehead resting on one arm and the other simply hanging loose down at his side.

He still had the mug of coffee he’d been drinking sitting next to him, his fingers loosely curved around the handle. He dragged his free hand up and over to find the ceramic had totally cooled, the coffee no doubt cold and stale inside.

He blinked, lifting his head slowly, wincing at the crick of pain in his neck. What time was it? How long had he been asleep? His phone was buzzing on the table next to him and he blinked, blearily looking over at it. Must've been what woke him. Fuck, was it really 9:45 already?

When he saw ‘MOM’ and the photo he’d set of he and Corrine at the beach a couple of years ago lighting up the screen, he groaned, hit the button to silence it, and let his head drop back to the table.

He was so fucking tired and he did not have the energy to deal with his mother right now. Maybe not ever again, not where Danny was concerned.

She would tell him to get an aide, she was always telling him to get an aide. Move out (you can move right back in the house with Dad and I until you find a place, no reason to linger there wasting your twenties), leave him and Vandrum with a full-time home health care aide.

You shouldn’t feel obligated to take care of him, Ryan.

But he did, and maybe if Mom had ever felt obligated to really care about Danny, he wouldn’t have ended up wearing a goddamn dog collar in western Canada.

Not that it was Canada’s fault, or anything. Ryan hadn’t ever realized how fucking huge Canada was, before he’d flown into Edmonton on the fastest flight he could find, rented a car, and then drove and drove and drove and fucking drove to the police station his brother was waiting in - only to realize it had been more hours upon hours of driving for Nate to get Danny there in the first place.

That cabin in the woods had been literally in the middle of fucking nowhere, and Ryan couldn’t possibly have known, right?

He should have, though. He should have, and maybe none of it would ever have happened if his mother and father hadn’t said all that shit to Danny five years ago about regretting adopting someone who didn’t want to be part of the family business, and therefore part of the family.

They might not see their obligations, but Ryan did. He was obligated, because while Danny had been up in those woods suffering, learning to believe that Denner fucker's lies that he isn't a person, that his body belongs to Denner to use however he wants, learning to call himself a puppy and give up his name and his body and his humanity to stay alive, Ryan had been looking in all the wrong places trying to find him.

He had looked for four straight years. He'd started looking the day Danny didn’t come home from his weird meetup with the older guy he was either just crushing hard on or actually dating, no one seemed to know, and he'd kept looking until the day the cops called and said We’ll know for sure once we’ve done the DNA test, Mr. Michaelson, but we’re pretty sure this man is your brother. He had never, ever stopped looking.

He had leveraged his parents’ wealth and influence to pull together private searches long after law enforcement had given up. He had kept looking even when the cops and the FBI stopped helping them find a living man and started focusing on recovering a corpse one day, maybe decades from now, when some dumbass hiker might trip over his brother’s bones in the woods-

Stop it. He survived. You brought him home. You couldn't have known where Denner would take him. You couldn't have done more.

Yes, he could have.

He had been looking, but he hadn’t looked hard enough. He'd looked in the wrong spots, he had missed clues, somewhere, somehow.  What if there had been a white hair in the bloodied car they missed? What if Denner had left a fingerprint on Vandrum's apartment building? What if what if what if.

What if none of it would ever have changed a thing?

No, his mother didn't understand, but he couldn’t ever give enough of himself to Danny's recovery to make up for what he had lost, for what he was still losing. For time suffered and time spent trying to heal.

His mother’s photo blinked away and the phone went back to empty black. Ryan sighed in relief… only to watch it light right back up as she tried a second time.

“No, fucking no,” He groaned, fighting the child’s urge to answer just because it was her, because he loved her, because she loved him. Him, but not his brother. The eternal hidden truth of the Michaelson family - one child loved, the other left out, chased off, and lost. "Leave a goddamn voicemail, Mom, come on."

He'd been up all night, for the third night in a row, and Ryan was tapped the fuck out.

One super fun discovery Ryan had made about bringing home two people who had lived in nonstop fight-or-flight-or-freeze mode for four years was that they never stop getting sick.

Danny's immune system had apparently just checked out at some point and left, and Ryan could usually handle it, but this virus or whatever it was... was bad.

Vandrum usually did his best to help, but he had caught the bug, too, this time. Which meant two grown men reduced to middle-of-the-night coughing fits and all-day fevers, two grown men essentially helpless, two grown men Ryan had found himself in charge of.

Ryan wasn't only taking care of his traumatized older brother who refused to let him touch him, even just to check to see if his fever had broken, but also his brother’s equally traumatized maybe-boyfriend who never flinched or pulled away but who instead stared at Ryan with glassy, frightened green eyes and gritted teeth as he simply put up with Ryan’s clumsy attempts at caretaking in silence, only breaking it with the occasional pl-please let Red sl-sleep, he can’t d-d-do chores today, I’ll d-do his chores f-for him, please...

One more day of this and Ryan might crack.

He's stocked the fridge with all the stuff he remembered Mom buying when they were sick as kids - ginger ale and Pedialyte (did adults drink that shit? Vandrum and Danny hadn't put up a fight when he brought it to them and God knew they weren't keeping any food down yet), chicken soup from the deli in little microwave-safe containers, some Gatorade. There were saltines open on the counter, from the only experiment with solid food either man had attempted since they first got sick.

Ryan had never seen someone throw up saltines before, but at least Vandrum had seemed decently ashamed of himself for it. Danny hadn't even tried them.

It's 9:45 in the morning and all Ryan wants to do is crawl back into his own bed and drift, but if he does he knows one of them will need him, and the only thing worse than not sleeping is finally, finally getting to sleep only to be almost immediately woken up by grown men so knocked out by some kind of virus that they could hardly stand on their own.

Ryan slowly sits up straight, feeling pops along his spine from having been slumped over the table for so long, wondering if twenty-four was too young to have his fucking bones crack when he moves, like an old man.

“One hour,” He says out loud, to no one in particular. “If they don’t need anything in the next hour, I’m giving up and going to fucking bed.”

He pours himself a fresh cup of coffee, which does absolutely nothing to alleviate his exhaustion. He listens to the voicemail his mother eventually leaves, after her third and fourth attempts go unanswered.

Here’s to hoping you’re sleeping, Ryan, and don’t worry, I was just wondering how you were doing and if you had any updates on how Danny and his, um, friend are doing. I can have Mrs. Verona over there to give you a break, poor dear, just say the word.

I was sleeping, Mom, Ryan thinks bitterly, rubbing at his forehead with the heel of one hand as he listens, ignoring for the moment that technically he had fallen asleep sitting at the table like a parent with a newborn and not an adult with a sick brother. Your fucking phone calls woke me up, congratulations, Corrine Michaelson, you’re a gold-star mom today.

No, that wasn’t fair. She was just worried, Mom knew he wasn’t sleeping enough since Danny came home. She was just trying to help, with the offers of an aide or of sending Mrs. Verona over for a day. 

She wasn’t trying to chase Danny off again, she wasn’t trying to make him feel like less-than even when he’d only just really started to get his feet under himself again. She just wanted to help Ryan, like always, and was so blinded by it that she missed that what helped Ryan sometimes hurt Danny.

She’d never meant to be awful to Danny, really, it had always just… happened.

Why do you always make excuses for her? Why don’t you just admit it, give it a name, and try to protect him from them while he’s still so fragile and so easily torn apart all over again? He needs someone who can stand up for him this time, and you never have, you always, always let them blame him. You let him run to Eureka to get away from them, so he was in this stupid town when that fucking psychopath came calling to pick his ex up again.

You let them chase Danny away, and it’s your fault he was here when Abraham Denner wanted a new victim. It’s your fault, Ryan, and you have to fix it, so stop whining to yourself about being tired and take care of the brother you couldn’t save when it counted.

You can start by calling what Mom and Dad do to Danny what it is, by calling it-

“Ryan?”

He’d been so lost in his thoughts he hadn’t heard anyone coming, but he looks up now to see Danny leaning against the open-framed doorway to the kitchen, staring in at him with stark surprise written across his face.

The wavy red hair is sticking to his forehead and the back of his neck and his blue eyes are fever-bright, two bright red splotches mark his cheeks. His face is otherwise chalk-white, freckles and the ring of half-healed scarring standing out in garish, nearly neon red in a perfect outline of that fucking thing Ryan can barely stand to think about.

“What’re you doing up? You look dead on your feet, man.” Ryan stands up, slowly so he doesn’t surprise him - Danny still doesn’t like it when people move too fast around him, and the fever definitely doesn’t help with that problem - and sets his coffee mug on the table. “Let’s get you back to bed.”

“I’m not s’posed to, to be in th’ bed.” Danny glances over his shoulder, then back, putting a finger to his lips. “Ssshhh. He must’ve… told Nate it was okay...” Danny’s eyes drift, aimlessly, to the side, looking with confusion at the window above the kitchen sink, with the faded, ancient little pleated floral curtain that had been in the apartment when Danny moved in.  “That’s not right. What d’you think he did to earn me getting to sleep in the bed?”

Something in Ryan cracks a little more, the way it always does every single time Danny says something else like this, some new piece of heart-deep horror that Danny doesn’t even seem to recognize for what it is.

“I don’t suppose it would help to tell you you’re home,” Ryan says, wearily, thinking longingly about the last few swallows of hot coffee left and whether it’s worth drinking it if it’s not going to even touch the fatigue. “Would it?”

“I wish I could go home.” Danny speaks the words so softly Ryan nearly misses them. “I wish, but there isn’t one anymore. I know all the rules. I’m so fucking tired, Ryan. Are you still looking for me?”

“Danny?” He’s so exhausted that it takes too long, far too long, for it to really sink in that Danny isn’t talking to him at all, but to some memory he’s having, that Danny’s lost in the woods again.

“I wish I got to keep my name.” Danny whimpers the words more than speaks and then slides straight to the floor in one swift motion. Ryan can’t cross the distance in time to stop him and Danny thumps to the ground nearly bonelessly, still braced against the door frame, closing his eyes slowly and resting the side of his head against it. “You have to look in the woods, Ryan. We’re in the woods.”

When Ryan crouches in front of him, reaching out one hand, he doesn’t flinch or pull away, not when Ryan’s palm presses against his sweaty, boiling-hot forehead, not when he feels the rabbit-fast flutter of his pulse in the side of his neck. 

“Whatever you want,” Danny mumbles, eyes half-opening, then closing again. “Do whatever you want. I’ll be good.”

He’s going to have to stand Danny up, and he can barely find the energy to straighten his legs for himself. Three days - three days of the fevers that come and go, the coughing that wakes him up when he does sleep, his mother’s worried phone calls, Vandrum being fucking useless because he’s sick, too.

He just.

It’s just too fucking much and Ryan never realized how hard it would be to do all of this totally alone.

“Danny, I’m so goddamn tired,” Ryan says out loud, near tears himself. “I can’t keep doing this, I can’t keep taking care of you-”

“S’okay,” Danny slurs back to him. “Go back t’bed. I can make breakfast. I need to do chores… s’time, he can’t see I’m late, he can’t, can’t see-” Danny starts trying to push himself back to his feet, and Ryan is half-impressed, half-horrified when his desperately ill brother manages to make himself stand back up, knees locked, glittering, distant eyes fixed on the sink. Ryan stands with him, slowly, his hands out but uncertain what to do next. “Do dishes. Start with dishes. He has to see I’m still working…”

Danny takes a step and simply collapses forward, but this time Ryan is there to catch him under the arms in an awkward half-hug, and Danny shudders at the touch but he’s too weak to pull away or fight back, too weak to even try.

“Look in the woods,” Danny mutters, and his forehead falls against Ryan’s shoulder, thumping into it hard enough to make Ryan wince. “Look in th’ woods for us. Sssshhhhh… everything’s so fuckin’ loud…”

“You’re the only one talking here, buddy,” Ryan murmurs, closing his own eyes just for a second, feeling himself sway a little, a sort of dip in his brain where the white fog of tired takes over before his eyes jolt back open. “Shit. I, I have to sleep, Dan, or I’m gonna die.”

“Don’ die,” Danny mutters, without moving even an inch. “Don’ die. Mom’ll be mad at me.”

Ryan laughs, and after a second Danny huffs a sound that might be laughter, too, and finally Ryan braces himself, pushing Danny back up to where he’s taking at least a little of his own weight. “Okay, okay. I got an idea. Go back to my room, okay? We’ll lie down in there.”

“I have to start chores,” Danny protests faintly, his eyes dancing around aimlessly again, then landing back on Ryan’s face. “Can you tell Mom to call me in sick today? There’s no way I’m going to school. Abraham’s gonna be so mad at me... I can’t go t’school today...”

“You’re twenty-six years old, big brother,” Ryan grunts as he manages to get Danny’s arm around his shoulder to hold him up, taking his weight, his head pounding. He just had to get to bed. Just that far, not too far at all. “You haven’t been in school for a long time.”

“Oh.” Danny frowns, confused, and when Ryan starts trying to walk, he drags his feet along beside him, nearly shuffling. Their progress down the hallway is slow, but damn it, it still counts as progress, and Ryan can see his bedroom door getting closer with every step. “Did I graduate? I don’t remember that.”

Ryan sighs, taking a pause to redistribute Danny’s weight. He’s going to fall over right here in the hallway, pass out and sleep for a week. Right there on the floor. Maybe someone will drop an omelet or something for him to eat while he’s down there.

Who would make it, though, if Danny and Vandrum are both totally useless? Maybe if he called his mother, she’d send Mrs. Verona over with, like, a fucking honeyed ham or something.

“No, Dan, you didn’t. You were still one semester out. They sent you an honorary degree, though, I have it stashed somewhere.”

You know, when they thought you were dead, when everyone but me gave up.

“Honor degree.” Danny giggles, the sound eerie and unfamiliar, a high-pitched noise he’s almost never made in Ryan’s entire memory. “Degree for honor. What’s honor when you fuck like I do now?”

“If there is a God, may you never say anything like that ever again.” Ryan manages to get his door open, although only barely, and he stumbles a few feet into the room before simply letting Danny fall right into the bed, breathing hard.

“May I have permission to sleep?” Danny mumbles, eyes already closing as he mostly crawls his way further into the bed. Ryan’s heard him ask Nate Vandrum that question every fucking night since they brought him home, with the occasional lapse when he remembers he’s a human being and grown-ass humans don’t have to ask permission to fall asleep.

Just like they shouldn’t have to ask permission to shower or bathe or sit in a chair and not on the floor or eat with a fork or…

No. Too tired to be angry right now.

“Yes,” Ryan says heavily. “Yes, you can sleep.”

“Thank you for letting me sleep, Ryan.” The voice is soft and fuzzy, gentle and grateful, and Ryan fucking hates Danny’s stupid fucking rules and his stupid fucking puppy voice. And he hates that he’s so tired that he can’t stop himself from being angry that Danny still uses it rather than focusing on the fact that sometimes, for whole days, he doesn’t.

“No problem, buddy. Get some rest.”

He watches Danny curl up, turning his six-foot-two body into something shockingly small. His knees go to his chest and his arms curve over his head with his hands loosely splayed over his hair, a defensive position to ward off the blows that might be coming at any time.

He never slept like that before, he’d said to Vandrum one night early on, when they’d both woken up and caught Danny curled up like that on the floor next to the couch.

Yeah, w-w-well, your p-parents didn’t w-w-wake him up with head t-trauma, did they? Nate had said, and Ryan had hated him a little less, in the moment, when he’d seen the guilt written across his face. Nate was always guilty, and he damn well should be, but Ryan had plenty to be guilty about, too.

Plenty to make up for.

And he’ll be right back to that as soon as he gets some goddamn sleep.

Ryan sighs, swaying a little, and finally climbs in, sliding under the covers, unruly black curls falling over his face. He watches Danny, already out, curled up and ready to be kicked awake at any moment.

He falls asleep with one hand out, resting on top of the comforter within inches of Danny, not quite touching him.

[purplesurveys]

900

1. What’s the last thing you ate? Shawarma. It was a usual meal of mine at school so I’ve been missing it a lot during this quarantine, and I was happy when my dad got me a couple ones yesterday.

2. What’s your favourite cheese? I haven’t been super experimental when it comes to cheese mainly because the better ones are a little expensive and I’m more willing to spend my money on other foods...but the best one I’ve had is feta.

3. What’s your favourite fish? My favorite cooked or grilled fish is tilapia and eel; as for raw fish I love tuna.

4. What’s your favourite fruit? I don’t really like fruit but I’m open to eating avocado-flavored things like shakes and cheesecake; and I’m okay with strawberry-flavored candy hahaha.

5. When, if ever, did you start liking olives? I’ve never liked olives. I take them out of my pizza and such.

6. When, if ever, did you start liking beer? I never *liked* beer but sometimes I’ll have a bottle if and only if it’s to socialize at a party. I just keep the grimace to myself lol because I personally never found it good. I had my first beer at Marielle’s debut, four years ago.

7. When, if ever, did you start liking shellfish? High school. That was when my palate started to expand and I wanted to try being more adventurous with food. I got into shellfish pretty early on and my mom even used to buy a kilo of mussels just for me. 

8. What was the best thing your mum/dad/guardian used to make? I love my dad’s laksa, risotto, curries, and chicken wings. My mom doesn’t cook much but I do like her spaghetti.

9. What’s the native specialty of your hometown? My city doesn’t have native food of its own; and I’m not sure about my province’s specialtes either only because cuisines from other provinces are far more popular. I can say though that most visitors who come to the country often try adobo, sinigang, kare-kare, and bulalo.

10. What’s your comfort food? Cheeseburgers, samgyeopsal, pad thai, and chicken wings.

11. What’s your favourite type of chocolate? Milk chocolate. And it gets a lot of flak because it’s not actually chocolate, but I do enjoy the flavor of white chocolate too.

12. How do you like your steak? Rare.

13. How do you like your burger? I like mine with caramelized onions, a mayo-based sauce, and brioche buns; barbecue sauce or jalapeños are add-ons I have no problem being put in my burger. I don’t like tomatoes, pickles, and lettuce.

14. How do you like your eggs? Scrambled if on toast; omelette with cheese, tomatoes, mushrooms, and bell peppers if with rice; and obviously, poached if on top of an Eggs Benedict. I don’t have a preferred style for eggs.

15. How do you like your potatoes? As French fries or mojos.

16. How do you take your coffee? If someone is making the coffee for me, I request for lots of cream and sugar. I’d drink any kind of coffee but black. If I’m at a coffee shop I typically get caramel macchiato.

17. How do you take your tea? I enjoy lemonade iced tea. I don’t really like hot tea.

18. What’s your favourite mug? I suppose my favorite is the only mug I own, which is a white mug that changes colors depending on the temperature of the drink inside.

19. What’s your biscuit or cookie of choice? I can’t stand biscuits anymore because those are what my grandma/mom packed for my recess nearly everyday throughout grade school. I don’t like store-brought cookies either because they taste super processed, but my favorite as a kid were the Presto peanut butter cookies.

20. What’s your ideal breakfast? Garlic rice, a packed omelette, and hashbrowns if I’m somewhere fancy. Scrambled eggs and hotdogs when I’m at home.

21. What’s your ideal sandwich? Monte Cristo or banh mi.

22. What’s your ideal pizza: Quattro formaggi. If we’re talking more experimental pizzas, barbecue pizza is a guilty pleasure.

23. What’s your ideal pie (sweet or savoury)? I’m not a big pie person but I do love savory a lot more, like chicken pot pie. I think most of the sweet pies out there are fruit-based anyway.

24. What’s your ideal salad? Spicy tuna salad. I’ve been having such a craving for it :(

25. What food do you always like to have in the fridge? We always have white bread, eggs, my mom’s cranberry juice, and veggies.

26. What food do you always like to have in the freezer? In the freezer we never run out of various meats and frozen meal packs, like frozen bangus, hotdogs, chicken nuggets, French fries, etc. We also often have ice cream, but it’s not a must-have for us obviously.

27. What food do you always like to have in the cupboard? Pasta, canned food like luncheon meat and corned beef, cup noodles, various condiments like soy sauce and fish sauce, 3-in-1 coffee.

28. What spices can you not live without? I can’t cook but I do know I like salt, pepper, paprika, and cumin. I’m sure I’m missing other essential ones lol

29. What sauces can you not live without? Sriracha, bagoong, banana ketchup, gochujang, peanut sauce, gravy, barbecue sauce, aioli, mayonnaise.

30. Where do you buy most of your food? My parents don’t have a supermarket preference; they just go to wherever is most convenient for them at the moment. Once I start doing my own grocery shopping though I would rather go to a supermarket where they’d have a wider selection for foreign foods, like those that would have Pop-Tarts and sriracha sauce. Just the foodie in me that constantly has to have food from other cultures.

31. How often do you go food shopping? My parents do the groceries once every two or three weeks, I think.

33. What’s the most expensive piece of kitchen equipment you own? Aside from the obvious ref or cooking range, probably the coffee maker. Not sure how much it cost my parents but it’s supposed to be branded haha.

34. What’s the last piece of equipment you bought for your kitchen? Dad bought a couple of pans because he didn’t like how our old ones were starting to get too many scratches.

35. What piece of kitchen equipment could you not live without? Refrigerator. So many things would spoil without it...that’s why when we get blackouts the first thing we worry about is how long the ref would stay cold.

36. How many times a week/month do you cook from raw ingredients? I’ve only done it once.

37. What’s the last thing you cooked from raw ingredients?

38. What meats have you eaten besides cow, pig and poultry? Crocodile, carabao, lamb.

39. What’s the last time you ate something that had fallen on the floor? Don’t remember exactly when but it has to be sometime recently. I’m not too grossed out by this.

40. What’s the last time you ate something you’d picked in the wild? I have never done this.

41. Arrange the following in order of preference: Italian, Mexican, Chinese, Indian, Thai, Sushi – Indian, Thai, Italian, Japanese, Chinese, Mexican. This question is a teeny bit annoying and a little offensive. How would you like it if I referred to American food as ‘ribs’ lol

42. Arrange the following in order of preference: Vodka, Whiskey, Brandy, Rum – Vodka, rum, (some) whiskey. I don’t drink brandy because that’s what my grandpa, who had alcohol issues, used to drink.

43. Arrange the following in order of preference: Garlic, Basil, Lime, Mint, Ginger, Aniseed – Aniseed, garlic, basil, ginger, lime, mint.

44. Arrange the following in order of preference: Pineapple, Orange, Apple, Strawberry, Cherry, Watermelon, Banana. –

45. Bread and spread: I don’t really munch on this particular food. Toast and butter is enough for me.

46. What’s your fast food restaurant of choice, and what do you usually order? It’s either KFC or Jollibee. In KFC I get a Zinger and a brownie; in Jollibee, I usually order the chicken-spaghetti set, large fries, and a Yum Burger. If they have tuna pie on the menu I’d get that too. My appetite gets exceptionally large when it comes to Jollibee hahahaha.

47. Pick a city. What are the best dining experiences you’ve had in that city? I no longer remember what exactly I ate but I had a blaaaast eating in Bali. I also had a sushi platter in Fukuoka that I’ll never forget.

48. What’s your choice of tipple at the end of a long day? I don’t drink regularly but if I’m out with friends and we want to chill after a tiring day, we get a pitcher of a mixed drink.

49. What’s the next thing you’ll eat? Eggs and hotdogs for breakfast. Probably with bread.

50. Are you hungry now? A little bit, considering it’s nearly 10 and I still haven’t had breakfast.

51. Do you eat your breakfast everyday? I’ve been having it everyday now because I’ve been home for...most of the year...sigh. But I skipped it all the time when I was in school because getting to class on time and having a clean attendance record mattered to me more than filling up my stomach. 52. At what time do you have breakfast? On weekdays I have it between 9-10 AM. On weekends when my parents are home, we have brunch instead at around 10:30-11 AM because they wake up late.

53. At what time do you have lunch? I normally skip lunch now. In school I just had tiny eating breaks throughout the day, but I didn’t have lunch per se.

54. What do you have for lunch? My usual purchases were instant noodles/kwek-kwek, tapsilog from Rodic’s, or shawarma rice. Thrived on these three for my entire college life.

55. At what time do you have dinner? 7-8 PM, depending on whenever my dad is finished cooking.

56. What do you have for dinner? My dad likes changing up our dishes everyday :) It’s one of my favorite things about quarantine. Outside of the quarantine, I’ve never had a main dinner dish.

57. Do you light candles during dinner? No.

58. How many chairs are there in your dining room and who sits in the main chair? 6 chairs. We don’t have a ‘main’ chair that’s larger than the rest, but my dad is the one who sits on the chair on one end of the dining table, or what we call the kabisera in Filipino. My mom, siblings, and I sit on either side of him. 

59. Do you eat and drink using your right hand or the left one? I use my right hand for the spoon and my left hand for the fork. I drink with my right hand most of the time.

61. Mention the veggies that you like most: Broccoli, cauliflower, lettuce, cabbage, spinach, asparagus, string beans. Idk what eggplants and bell peppers are but I like those too.

62. What fruit and vegetable do you like the least? Cucumber and ampalaya. 63. You like your fruit salad to have more: Air. Hahahaha I do not like fruit salads.

64. You prefer your vegetable salad to contain more: I love vegetables but don’t really eat vegetable salads? I don’t think I’ve even heard of those.

65. What’s your favourite sandwich spread? Whatever goes on banh mi.

66. What’s your favourite chocolate bar? Whittaker’s peanut butter chocolate.

67. What’s your favourite dessert? I really love macarons, cupcakes, and cheesecake.

68. What’s your favourite drink? Just water. Other drinks make me fuller more quickly.

69. What’s your favourite snack? Pringles, French fries, corndogs...anything deep-fried, really.

70. What’s your favourite bubble gum flavour? Strawberry, or just the original bubblegum flavor.

71. What’s your favourite ice cream flavour? Salted caramel, queso real, or cookies and cream.

72. What’s your favourite potato chip flavour? Original or sour cream and onion.

73. What’s your favourite soup? Miso. Have to have it whenever I have Japanese food.

74. What’s your favourite pizza? Already answered this, but I will always order quattro formaggi if I see it on a menu.

75. What’s your favourite type of dish? I have lots of favorites, but I think chicken curry takes the cake for me. 

76. What food do you hate? Fruits, any dessert with fruits.

77. What’s your favourite restaurant? Yabu. It’s a Japanese restaurant that doesn’t even serve sushi (because I’m still ticked off by that sushi question lol).

78. Do you eat homemade food, or food delivered from outside? These days I eat food cooked by either parent. But when I’m on my own, I buy my food.

80. Who cooks at home? My dad does most of the time. My mom will make breakfast on the weekends.

81. What kind of diet (e.g. low-fat, high-fiber, high-carbohydrate, balanced diet etc.) do you have? I’m not on any.

82. How do you keep yourself fit? I just moderate my food intake in general and make sure I stop eating once I feel full. I don’t work out or count calories and stuff.

[hiyo-silver]

Storytime - Richie's Nostalgia

Summary: Richie tries to tell a story about he and Bill when they were younger before he gets carried away and has to delete the footage because it reveals too much personal information on Bill.

Chap 1 + Chap 2 + Chap 3 + AO3 + My Masterlist

Taglist: @fuckboykaspbrak @thesquidliesthuman @starboystan @rachi0964 @ahoybyeler @beepbeep-losers @bigbilliamdenbro @jalenrose1122 @sleepygaybrough @itandstrangerthingsfanfic @boopboopbichie @peachywyatt @aizeninlefox @sockwantstodie

Richie sits in front of the camera, plopping on the couch in such a fashion that makes the springs in the cushions creak loudly under his weight. He grins to himself, adjusting his glasses as he goes to flip open the viewfinder and click the on button green

He lays back on the back of the couch, getting comfortable, even "man spreading" as Beverly calls it when he does, she always opens her legs wider than he does. He doesn't seem to mind, she's more dominant than he is anyways.

He smiles lazily at the camera in his lowering high, a couple bong hits an hour ago leaves him feeling much smoother than he really is. "Hello, viewers, friends, subscribers," he starts with the grin, leaning forward now with his elbows on his knees.

"Today, boy do I have a story for you," he says, shaking his head with a grin wider than ever. "We're talking about me and Billy Boy in highschool," he says with an eyebrow waggle that goes as long and has far as to make his forehead a bit sore.

"We were fifteen at the time, good times, good times..." He trails off into the story.

Bill slams his locker shut, huffing deeply and jumping when he sees Richie standing straight in front of him in the near empty hallway. He's leaving early because he had an anxiety attack in class over the upcoming geometry presentation he has to do. It doesn't even make sense, why would I need to talk in front of the class about numbers, that's what the teacher is for.

"Heya Billiam, you need someone to go with you? I know your folks probably won't do you any good," Richie offers, his voice losing the normal kick it usually has in favor of something soft and soothing and actually careful, cautious of how Bill may be feeling.

Bill hesitates for a moment, knowing that means Richie will be absent for the day too and he'd feel awful if he got in trouble for it. Richie cares more about his friends than he cares for himself, leaving him in constant trouble with the adults in Derry. He especially speaks out much too much, leaving many people upset with him.

"Sure, R-r-rich, I th-think I'd like that," he says softly, hugging his composition notebook tight to his chest for comfort. He decides he doesn't want to be alone all day, having only made it to the first hour of school, since geometry is set as his second.

Richie nods with a small smile, only letting the corners of his lips tilting up in his normal smirk. He tries to act normal as he takes Bill's hand to drag him off to the front entrance, carrying Bill's backpack and his own.

"Silver doing you good still, Big Bill?" Richie asks, trying to start a conversation that would build Bill up instead of making him feel any worse than he already does.

Bill nods, "She's th-the most p-p-powerful steed," he says surely, still basing much of his pride in his bike, the very one he'd bought for himself after Georgie's death.

"I believe you, Billy," Richie says proudly, climbing on to his own rickety bike, the seat too low for his legs that had shot out like beanstalks once his middle school growth spurt hit.

Bill only smiles softly as he clambers on Silver, her mighty self still proving too tall for even Bill's current height, taller than even Richie's.

They share a look before both starting to pedal at the same pace, taking different amounts of strength to go the same speed due to the difference in bike sides.

Eventually they hit the park, Richie looking to Bill for some sort of direction, "We going to yours or mine?" He asks, looking down at his feet, kicking at the dirt path so dust bubbles up into the air.

"M-mine sounds good, I l-love your mom but I d-don't wanna w-worry her," Bill says, already obviously sure in his decision, his response coming almost immediately.

Richie only nods, bringing his foot back up to the pedal. He starts a bit too slow, wobbling to the side a little, catching himself by kicking his foot to the ground before bringing it back up to speed after Bill who got farther while Richie was struggling with his pedals.

They both smile devilishly at each other, speeding forward at each other to try and be the faster one, every ride is an unspoken race when it's just the two of them.

Once they arrive at the Denbrough residence (Bill pulled into the driveway first but Richie refuses to accept it) Bill lets them in with the key under the garden gnome on his front porch.

He walks in, dropping his backpack immediately to the floor with a thump. He sighs to himself, rubbing his hands over his face and sighing, running his hands through his ginger hair. He truly just wants to calm himself, but that means letting the rest of the pent up anxiety out before it can feel better.

Bill lets a few tears stream down in salty orbs that represent how he's feeling, obviously pretty awful if he's allowing himself to cry around another person. As fast as the tears started, they stop abruptly, he quickly swipes them away with long sweatshirt sleeves that cover his hands like little paws.

In this moment he looks nothing to Richie but a younger version of the Bill everyone knows. Seeming small, nearly fragile and like he could fall apart further if Richie missteps.

Richie can't help but drop his bag as well to wrap his lanky arms around Bill clumsily, holding him for a few moments as the boy shudders slightly under his touch. "You're okay, Bill, I can leave if you need me to," Richie offers, feeling Bill shake his head quickly against his neck.

Bill finally pulls away, looking Richie square in the eye, "C-can you get the bl-blue blanket from my bed? I'll m-make us tea, think it'll c-calm me down," he says, slowly making a plan in his head for the two of them.

Richie nods in response, looking a bit bewildered about how the leader in Bill had immediately come back in that moment, a pop up of the version he often sees.

Richie trudges his way up the creaky wooden steps to the upstairs bedroom. He opens Bill's closed door, stepping into the room. He feels wrong entering alone, it's always with Bill and he feels as if he's intruding now.

Bill's room is the epitome of the room that belongs to a creative but sad person, in other words, it's an absolute disaster. He has a way of organizing, he just never seems to use his method of organization after he's started it.

Richie pulls the fuzzy blue throw blanket from atop the comforter that lays all wrinkled on the sheets. He folds it neatly enough, hugging it to his chest as he goes to the door, closing it behind him only lightly, not wanting to disturb anything.

He makes his way downstairs to where tea is steeping on the counter but no signs of Bill's presence in the kitchen. Then, suddenly, Bill pops out from the dining room, his phone timer still going off until he clicks it off hastily to pull the tea bags out of the mugs, wincing a bit at the hot water that runs up his arms as he walks them to the trash can.

"T-tea's ready," Bill says sheepishly, wiping his arms down with a paper towel, knowing he'll probably feel sticky until the next shower, though he realizes that he really just doesn't care.

"I see that, I can carry them?" Richie offers, grabbing Bill a second paper towel, looking down at his own hoodie and back at Bill's wet sleeves, "And do you want my hoodie? I know you get cold," Richie tests carefully.

Bill nods hesitantly, starting to pull off his own sweatshirt to take up Richie's offer. He's a bit shy, a few stray marks on his arms where he picked at his skin in the strong state of anxiety he'd been in earlier.

Richie quickly pulls off his hoodie, still warm so when Bill pulls it on it feels almost like it's fresh out of the dryer, just as he likes it.

Richie grabs the mugs, a blue one and a yellow one, knowing Bill almost always uses the yellow one, the blue one is his second choice, which definitely makes Richie feel honored. "Where we goin', chief?" He asks with a playful smile.

"I'll l-lead you," Bill says, his tone telling Richie just to be patient, Bill is obviously in one of those moods, and chances are that his surprise won't be negative, knowing him. He's a careful leader and fears nothing more than losing people he loves, which means that he would be especially upset if he scared them off by mistake.

Richie just nods, letting Bill carry the blanket. He watches carefully as Bill drapes it around his shoulders, making himself into a walking human burrito as he walks the two of them towards the room nobody ever seems to open, not for years at least.

Bill opens the door, filling their eyes with yellow and blue and plush toys, an intact Lego turtle sitting neatly on the bedside table just as it should, becoming the first thing seen whenever someone goes in.

Bill crawls right into the small bed, obviously little as it was meant for a boy as young as the age of six. He pats the side next to him, slipping off his shoes and letting them tumble to the floor, better there than on the bed. He'd wash the sheets if he dirtied them but maybe then they'd feel less like Georgie's.

Richie takes off his shoes before sitting in next to Bill, carefully sliding the tea onto the bedside table without touching the turtle. It's not his to touch and he knows that both he and Bill know that.

"It j-just hurts a lot," Bill says softly, whenever he falls apart everything seems to rush back, he's not gotten enough closure on the situation, he truly wishes that it had all ended differently so he could feel differently.

Richie sighs, looking down at his fidgety hands that he holds in his lap so he wouldn't feel so annoying. "I know, Billy, you deserve better," he says quietly, reaching one of said hands over to Bill's shoulder to rub it comfortingly until he feels the other boy quiver with tears again.

"I'm s-sorry," is all the usually stoic boy says in a near whine, unable to get the words out properly.

Richie's heart melts for him, leaning over to hug him, brushing the tears away with his thumb, looking into Bill's watery eyes. "I'm always here for you, I love you," Richie reminds, leaning in to press a peck to Bill's lips, something out of the ordinary for them but Bill doesn't seem to mind.

Richie snaps from his storytelling, looking into the camera and shaking his head to himself, "God, I can't post that," he reminds himself, reaching forward to shut off the camera, taking the SD card to wipe the filming session from it as if he hadn't gotten teary and nostalgic about that story for the past half an hour.

[sweetimagines]

A Night To Remember - Part 1

Part 1 | Part 2

Pairing: Jellybean Jones x Archie Andrews

Description: AU in which JB is just an year younger than Jughead and she’s in love with his best friend.

Warnings: None that I can think of.

Word Count: 1587

A/N: I usually post on @serpent-jugheadjones but since this isn't a Jughead fic, I decided to do it here. Therefore anything from other characters that I write will be done here :) Let me know is you want to be tagged on any of my stuff!

The best thing about falling in love with her brother’s best friend is how comfortable he is around her, that the boy doesn't even bother putting on a shirt before entering the kitchen in the mornings after a sleepover. Jellybean doesn't have much time to enjoy the view, though, as Jughead is always nearby.

The worst of it is the fact that Archie’s so oblivious to her feelings that he shares his love life experiences during breakfast. Certainly, hearing about his dates isn't JB’s nor Jug’s favorite subject. When she’s lucky, they get to talk a little about music before her brother shows up.

The three teens sit on the round table in the Jones’ kitchen, each with a plate of pancakes, Jughead’s with a few extra ones, and a glass of OJ. “Valerie broke up with me.”, Archie speaks before eating. “No wonder. You've been pimping yourself out to Cheryl.” Jug doesn't even finish chewing his pancake before talking. JB just stuffs her face with the food so she doesn't have to give an opinion. “HA. HA. I’m gonna try and talk to her tonight.”, the ginger says as FP walks in and fills his mug with coffee. “Dude, not a good idea. Just let it be.”, the dark-haired boy advises. “Easy for you to say. You have Betty.”, Arch says bitterly. “You should listen to Jughead. When women are mad at you it’s best to give them space. Right, JB?”, FP smirks. She chokes on her juice as the man leans in to kiss his daughter’s ruffled hair before sitting next to that jittery girl. “Right…” Jellybean widens her eyes at that ironic impossible clever dad she loves so much, for he’s the only one who knows about her crush and she’d like to keep it that way. Archie just gives JB a half smile that melts her heart. 

Later that day, she gets a text from Archie. Her mind races through all the possibilities of what the boy could've said while her old phone loads the message.

From: Archie xX

Surprise party for Jug at my place at 8. Come. 

Reason tells her to warn her brother since he’s not a fan of parties and dislikes even more his birthday but she can’t seem to shake the feeling that this is finally her chance with the Andrews’ boy.

JB arrives at Archie’s place, a little nervous but ready to tell the boy how she feels. “You look great.”, he greats, letting her in. The girl takes off her jacket, revealing a white crop top and a black skirt overall. “Can I get you anything?”, the boy offers. “One of whatever you’re having.”, the girl requests, smelling liquor in his breath. “Jug would kill me. For you, just a soda.” Archie hands her a red solo cup containing the fizzy drink. Their fingers touch for a second, enough to turn her cheeks red. “Jughead is coming. Everybody hide!”, Ethel shouts and they lean under the kitchen island. “Shh.”, he whispers, placing a finger in her mouth as she was just about to say something. 

The door opens and the lights turn on. “SURPRISE!”, a choir of voices shout standing from their hiding spots. Jellybean can see the loathing in Juggie’s eyes as people start hugging him. “Happy birthday.”, the girl wishes quietly, embracing him. “You knew about this and didn't tell me?” Lucky for her Betty comes out with a burger-shaped cake singing Marilyn Monroe style and JB doesn't have to explain herself.

Soon after, the party goes wild with the arrival of Cheryl and the rest of the school with booze and party lights, turning the living-room into a dance floor full of drunk teens. From the doorway, Jellybean watches Archie losing himself to the dance. When the ginger boy spots that beautiful girl standing there, he pulls her by the wrist. In a heartbeat, they start swaying to the rhythm of the song, their bodies brushing against each other’s every once in a while. JB is sure Arch can feel the electricity flowing through them.

A couple of songs after, they’re both tired and in need of fluids. The euphoric teen follows an oblivious Archie back to the kitchen where she hops on the marble counter as the boy grabs a couple of bottles from the fridge to mix them a drink. “Arch.”, Jellybean calls his attention softly. “Yeah?”, he questions, pouring a little too much vodka on his cup. “I listened to your songs.”, she confesses, still a little breathless. “The ones on SoundCloud?” Archie looks up at his friend’s sister amazed, handing her one of the cups. JB nods. “They are amazing.” The girl smiles and takes a sip from her drink, wincing at the bitter taste in the back of her throat. “Dance, Dance, Dance is my favorite.” She looks directly into his eyes. He’s leaning in slightly. “Archie, where’s the keg?” Arch hesitates for a while, and steps away when he listens to a familiar cough. “In the back.” He recognizes Joaquin and takes him to the booze. FP enters the kitchen right after. “Was that a move?”, her father asks playfully, pointing at the ginger boy leaving. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.” JB jumps off the counter and grabs her drink before her father notices what’s inside. FP just chuckles as she returns to the dance floor.

Out of a sudden, things get out of hand, beginning with Archie receiving a faceful of liquor instead of whatever he was hoping for with Valerie. Then, when Jug tries to bolt, Cheryl stops him, making everyone play a weird game called “Secrets and Sins”. People start accusing each other of all kinds of crap, and all hell breaks loose as a dumb jock calls Betty out on what happened at Ethel’s. Jughead punches him unsmartedly, getting hit back twice as hard. Fortunately, Jellybean went to get her dad as soon as trouble started. The man gets there just in time to pull Chuck out of Jug, before he can make any more damage to his son’s face. He throws everyone out and Betty ashamedly goes away as well. “Why aren't you going after your girl?”, FP asks, holding his son by the arms as he was trying to get in. “Can’t leave Archie alone.”, Jug excuses. “JB is staying. Go after her. She needs you now more than ever.”, his father instructs.

The house is a mess. Solo cups flying all over, bottles rest on every flat surface and Archie slouched on the couch as drunk as one can be. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed so I can clean up.”, JB tells him, warping one of his arms around her neck in a feeble attempt to get him up. “You didn't have to stay.”, Archie drunkly says, pulling her to sit next to him. No point fighting against it as he’s twice as strong as her, not that she really wants to. “I couldn't help it.”, the girl tells him. “Why?”, he asks, almost hopeful. “Because I’m in love with you…”, Jellybean confesses, both nervous and excited at the same time. He leans himself forward the closer he can get to the raven-haired girl. She closes the remaining distance between them, lightly touching his lips, feeling the ground being pulled from under her. Literally, since the boy grabbed her hips to straddle her legs around him. 

No cleaning was done that night. The two teens just savored each other’s company. With a lot of work, she managed to drag the drunk ginger to his room, where he fell head first on an air mattress, leaving his bed empty for her. When the girl woke up in the morning, she made sure to leave the place impeccable for when Mr. Andrews got back. JB gives a sweet peck on sleeping Archie’s cheek before leaving.

The raven-haired girl arrives home to her brother and father at the table having breakfast. “Is that Archie’s shirt?”, Jughead asks. “Maybe…”, the girl says with a grin. “I just borrowed it to sleep, in a separate bed!”, she adds hurriedly at FP’s concerned and almost angry face. “I’m going over to his place to make sure everything is ok.” Her brother walks out of the table leaving his dirty plate behind. “I’m not washing your dirty dishes.”, JB shouts as Jug goes through the door. “Didn't you just wash the plates at Andrews’ house?”, her father asks, piling his and Jug’s plate for her to wash.

Jughead arrives just in time to wake his friend before his father comes home. “Jug. The most amazing thing happened.”, Archie says dreamily, still laying down. “Is that so?”, the dark-haired boy asks. “I think I kissed Veronica last night. I was so wasted all I know is that she stayed the night.”, he answers looking up, trying to remember better. “Veronica left with her girlfriend CHERYL, as soon as shit hit the fan. JB was the one who stayed.” Jughead says. “But then… Jellybean? Oh… Yes.” Panic takes over the ginger as he realizes what he did. “Dude, did you just fess up to kissing my sister?” Now Juggie and Arch have another situation to work through.

[kieraembers]

Fireworks and Streaking

11:15pm at Titans Tower

The party was well underway and while Starfires Tamaranian dishes remained untouched Victor and Changeling platters were being consumed at a rapid rate. Richard had invited the Titans East and all the honorary Titans to the "T" tower for a New Years Eve party.

One would only have to glance at the room to see the couples. Richard and Kori were chatting with Victor and Karen. Garfield was showing Terra the new gaming system. Terra was still trying to live like a normal student and had started attending Jump City University last year. Kid Flash, Mas y Menos and Gnark were in the middle of an eating contest while Kole cheered her partner on. Roy was trying to charm Raven while she sipped her tea and fixed her eyes on the television in an attempt to discourage him. Garth sat nearby and watched them both carefully.

"So Raven, I'm liking the new look" Roy said with a look that bordered on a leer. Raven responded by continuing to sip her tea. Garth had to admit that Ravens costume alterations were extremely flattering. Her old ankle high boots were replaced by thigh high boots and her leotard became sleeveless and slightly armored. Soul gems were scattered about her outfit as jewelry and accents on her uniform. In the past four years Raven had grown now more than three inches leaving her at a diminutive five foot and three inches. Her hair on the other hand had grown all the way down to her waist. Needless to say Raven had grown from a cute goth to a beautiful and enchanting sorceress. She was just a beautiful as StarFire only in a different way.

"Personally I love the boots, and your hair." Roy said as he played with her hair, and his eyes were fixated on her cleavage.

"If you'd like I could always loan you the boots and give you the number of my hair stylist. His name is Rondal and he would love to get you in his chair since he has a ginger fetish." Raven said as she checked her nails, Starfire had painted them plum earlier during "female bonding time."

"She Speaks!" Roy said with utter joy. Grace me with more of your words my lady." Roy said leaning in with exaggerated interest.

Raven raised an eyebrow at that comment and Garth resisted the urge to laugh outloud. Roy was obviously trying to get a rise out of Raven. On the way to Titans tower Roy had told Garth that he liked a challenge, and no other Titan presented more of a challenge than Raven .

"So what made you grow your hair out?" Roy asked.

"Laziness." Raven said with a shrug as she picked her mug up again.

"More words! Be still my beating heart. My lady graces me with more wit! " Roy was becoming overly dramatic and had developed a bad British accent. Garth was really trying not to laugh and the corners of Ravens mouth twitched.

"Answer me one last question my lady. Do you have a boyfriend to tell you how magnificent your eyes are." Roy said as he clasped his hands over hers and looked in her eyes.

"No." Raven said with a blank face.

"What luck because I have two ticke-" Roy said with

"I have several." Raven said with a sigh. Garth began to choke on his drink and Roy's jaw slackened.

"Several!" he said in surprise

Raven set down her teacup and turned towards Roy. "Well there is "Goth boy" he's the drummer in Jhonny Rancids band, his real name is D'mitri. Jason Todd and I date from time to time, usually when I take vacation. Kidd Wykydd is taking me out next week . D'mitri's concert is this friday, he wants me on his arm for the after party, and Jason is in town next month so he'll probably monopolize all my time." Raven said this all with a straight face and ignored Garth and Roy's flabbergasted stares as she sipped her now cold tea.

"You know two of your boyfriends are villains," Roy said while he was still in slight shock.

"Actually I think D'mitri is a member of Anonymous, he says Homeland Security needs new firewalls." Raven cast a spell over her cup and the tea began to release steam.

"So I guess what you're trying to say is that you have a thing for criminals." Roy said teasingly.

Raven put her teacup down and crossed her legs, then stared Roy straight in the eyes.

"The thing you have to know about bad boys is this," Raven leaned over until she was an inch from his face. " they never disappoint in bed. Tell me Roy, how bad have you been?"

Roy blushed bright crimson and muttered something unintelligible, then stumbled away. Raven leaned back in her chair and let out a satisfied smirk while Garth stared in open astonishment.

"Something you'd like to say Garth?"she asked with a glance his way.

"Raven, I don't think I have ever seen any woman hold her own against Roy. You are incredible." Garth emphasized this by giving her a standing ovation, which would have garnered a few looks, if Kid Flash had not chosen that precise moment to drop his pants and live up to his name. Raven smiled and went back to her tea. Garth rose from his seat and sat next to Raven. He was about to say something when a horn sounded and a portal opened, Herald stepped out with Jericho in tow.

"Hey Raven, Garth. Sorry we're late." Herald said while Jericho waved behind him. "Where's the food? I'm starving!" Raven turned toward the kitchen where Wally (Kid Flash) was using some burger buns to cover his "man meat" while Richard tried to catch him and Roy laughed at the spectacle.

Herald stared open mouthed for a moment then coughed into his hand and muttered "never mind, I'm not hungry anymore." Jericho just shrugged his shoulders and went into the kitchen to eat the tofu burgers. Heralds stomach growled audibly and he turned towards Garth.

"Has he...gotten friendly with the pizza or nachos."

"It's safe"

Herald gave Garth a grateful look and ran towards the kitchen before Wally could violate anymore food. Garth and Raven sat and watch the circus unfold while everyone tried, unsuccessfully, to clothe Wally. Wally stopped in front of Raven and danced the hula. Garth was about to use his water manipulation to fling him out into jump city bay but Raven beat him to the punch. She used her powers to hold Wally down and pull his pants on then she pulled him close to her.

"Keep your pants on, or I'll make you live the rest of your life as a woman."

"Will I be hott?" Wally asked with a grin

"Possibly." Raven said with a quirk of her brow and the ghost of a smile.

Wally laughed and Raven sighed "please, I'm getting a headache." she said as she rubbed her temples.

"Ok, I'll behave." Wally said raising his hands in defeat. 

Raven let him go and he disappeared for a second, then returned with some extra strength tylenol. Raven thanked him and swallowed the pills. She then turned to Garth, "You wanted to tell me something?"

"You're amazing," Garth blurted out as quickly as he could, just incase someone else came to distract them.

Raven looked taken aback, but then she seemed to compose herself. She raised an eyebrow.

"I have never seen anyone handle Roy like you do, or Walley for that matter."

Raven shrugged her shoulders, "You just can't let yourself be shocked by what they say, that's just rewarding their behavior. It's the same when a toddler throws a temper tantrum."

Garth laughed, "But before Wally danced the hula for you I was going to ask you something else. Was any of what you said true?"

Raven chuckled, "Some, Kidd Wykkyd sometimes gives me flowers during our fights. D'mitri and I did go on a couple of dates, nothing serious."

"And Jason?" Garth asked expectantly.

"Jason is dealing with his own problems a relationship isn't something he can handle, and frankly I can't handle him" Raven seemed to pout and drank her tea wit a little more anger. 

Garth chuckled and leaned back, his arm reached behind her and rested on the sofa. They were close enough that anyone looking would have assumed they were a couple even though he wasn't actually touching her. Raven tilted her head and looked up inquisitively at Garth.

"Well you did just tell me you are single." Garth said with what he hoped was a charming grin.

 Raven’s face took on a blank expression and Garth was certain that his smile came off as creepy instead of charming. He was about to apologize when she leaned in and kissed him. It was a sweet simple kiss without tongue, almost chaste if it weren't for the fact that her lips were so soft and her body was so warm. She smelled like apples and tasted like peppermint, her tea? The kiss couldn't have lasted more than five seconds and when they parted she looked up at him with a small uncertain smile. He was suddenly overcome with the desire for more. 

Garth vaguely heard the rest of the Titans counting down the last seconds to the New Year when he pulled Raven onto his lap. She responded with a startled squeak that he silenced with a kiss. The last thing that he saw before his eyes closed was the shock in Raven's eyes and the first fireworks off the New Year igniting over the bay.

old fic i wrote a couple years ago. Happy New year!

[etraytin]

Never have I ever...written bed-sharing or fake dating

I haven’t written either of these before, surprisingly enough! Fake-dating is a tough trope for The West Wing anyway, where most of the romantic conflict comes from wanting to date but not being able to be seen dating, rather than the other way around. But bed sharing… that I can work with. :D 

“Are you fucking serious?” Gingerasked nobody in particular, staring at the squalid little hotel roomwith amazed disgust. “This has got to be some kind of joke.”

Margaret elbowed past her to getthrough the door, dropping her overnight case next to a televisionthat had been new when Ford was president. “Don’t look at me, yourboss made the arrangements. So if anything, I’m going to blame youbecause you should’ve known better.”

“At least it wasn’t Josh,” Donnaadded helpfully, squeezing in through the space Margaret had made.“We’d probably be booked into a youth hostel or something because Idon’t think he knows the difference.” She stuck her head into thebathroom and immediately pulled it back out again. “Well, they’vegot the little soaps,” she observed with an attempt at brightness.“And I’ve got a scented candle in my bag.”

“Didn’t you learn your lesson aboutcandles after Belarus?” Margaret asked. “I mean, I think therewas some kind of presidential order involved…”

“It’s a Yankee Candle, all right?”Donna retorted, her pale cheeks blushing a bright pink. “I got itin Richmond, I think the bomb dogs will be okay with it this time.”Both women began unpacking their overnight cases with the efficiencyof seasoned travelers.

Ginger was still standing in thedoorway. “There’s one bed!” she observed loudly, disbelievingly.“All three of us are assigned to the same room and there’s onebed!”

“At least it’s a big bed,” Margaretpointed out. “I doubt this would work at all if it were a double.But I can’t sleep in the middle, I have restless legs and I usuallyneed to get up and urinate around two-thirty.”

“Dibs on not-middle,” Donna addedimmediately. “Josh will probably call at… oh, speak of thedevil.” Because Ginger was still blocking the doorway, the door wasopen to allow any passing curious Deputy Chief of Staff to peekinside.

“Hey Donna, I need the- wait, are allthree of you sharing this room?” Josh asked, peering inside asGinger cleared out of the way with a disgruntled huff. “With onebed? Man, that’s like a setup for a-”

“A sexual harassment lawsuit thatwould allow me to spend the rest of my life in a style to which I’dlike to become accustomed?” Donna asked sweetly, interposingherself between Josh and the room. It was for his own good, really.Ginger looked like she was ready to resort to violence and she mightnot wait to find Toby.

Josh arranged his face intoappropriately sober lines. “Anyway, I need the stuff for the thingwith State tomorrow. I’m gonna need you to call up Ed and Larry and-”

She cut him off again. “In case youhaven’t noticed, it is nearly 11pm here in Chicago, which means it ismidnight in DC. Ed and Larry have gone home. Everyone in LegislativeAffairs is sleeping. Everyone at the State Department is sleeping,with the exception of a few unlucky staffers making sure there’s nonuclear war. Toby and Sam are sleeping. You should be sleeping. And Ineed to prepare for the lingerie pillow fight we’re about to have inhere, so goodnight, Josh.”

Donna closed the door on his stunnedface, turned around and counted three. “DONNA!” came thestrangled yelp through the door. Giggling, she threw the chain on andwent to find her scented candle.

…

“This is the worst night of my life.And I grew up in South Jersey, so that’s saying something.”

“Oh my god, Ginger, just go tosleep.” Donna put the pillow over her head. “We have to be up infive hours.”

“Easy for you to say,” Gingermuttered, “you’re not sleeping next to Adam Vinatieri over here.”On Ginger’s other side Margaret was sleeping obliviously, mask overher eyes and headphones over her ears.

“You could sleep on the bus,” Donnasuggested. “It’s not so bad, I used to do it all the time.”

“Yeah, next time I want to getax-murdered I’ll definitely try that.” Ginger punched her pillow.“Senior staffers all got their own rooms on this trip. I’m going tokill Toby slowly as soon as I see him again. Gruesomely. I know guys,Donna. Guys with connections.”

“I actually think Toby may be moremobbed up than you are, even if you did grow up in New Jersey,”Donna pointed out with a yawn.

“I’m a desperate and angry woman,that counts for a lot.” Ginger rolled over and bumped into Donna’sside, then made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a growl. “Hey,I know! Why don’t you go sleep in Josh’s room?”

Donna lifted the pillow enough to peekout. “Josh’s room only has one bed, too.”

“But it’s got enough room for twopeople,” Ginger suggested with a grin Donna could see in the dark.“I bet he wouldn’t say no, and you could solve a couple of problemsat once.”

“Ginger!” Donna hissed.

“Oh come the hell on, who do youthink you’re fooling anyway? You two have been flirting like crazyfor four years now,” Ginger insisted, giving Donna a poke in theribs. “If I’d just met you I’d guess you were already married fromthe way you argue. You might as well get some of the bennies too,right?”

Before Donna could answer, Margaretlifted one earphone. “Don’t even think about it,” she told Donnaflatly. “Leo would have a heart attack shortly after killing bothof you. It would be extremely bad for our operational efficiency.”

“You’re awake!” Ginger burst out,losing all interest in Donna. “You’ve been awake this whole timeand you’ve still been kicking me!”

“I have restless legs,” Margaretreminded her primly.

“Restless legs my ass,” Gingermuttered, dropping her voice to add something about the restless backof her hand.

“You’re more than welcome to sleep onthe bus,” Margaret told her. “Hardly anyone gets ax-murderedanymore. You’re far more likely to be abducted and sold into humantrafficking.”

“Not helping!” Gingerostentatiously turned her back on Margaret, securing her blanket moretightly around herself. They’d at least managed to secure threeseparate blankets, or the situation would’ve been entirely untenable.“How about I tie your legs together instead?”

“Then I would just be kicking withboth legs instead of one at a time,” Margaret pointed outreasonably. “I hardly think that would be any better. Have youthought about sleeping in the fetal position, so that your legs aredrawn up and out of range? I hear it’s amazingly restful for peoplewho can keep their legs still at night.”

“I’m not just going to cede the bedto you because you can’t keep your legs to yourself!” Gingerinsisted, flipping back onto her back and looking about ready tothrow down. “Maybe you could sleep with your legs on a chair so youdon’t hit anybody!”

“That’s enough!” Donna sat upabruptly in bed, slipping her shoes onto her feet and throwing herblanket around her shoulders. “I will go sleep on the bus! I’vedone it a dozen times without getting ax-murdered or humantrafficked, and honest to god, at this point that is a risk I amwilling to take! I will see you in the morning!” She picked up herpurse and swept out, blanket trailing behind her like a cape.

…..

For all Josh tended to resist sleeplike a hyperactive toddler at bedtime, when he did finally pass outhe was a deep sleeper. It was just as well, then, that Donna had akey to his room. Shivering, she let herself into his room and hurriedto the thermostat, turning the temperature up by another fivedegrees. The heat kicked on with a rattle loud enough to wake thedead, or in this case, the deputy. He looked around blearily. “Whatare you doing here? It’s not six yet, is it?”

“No,” she admitted wearily, “It’sabout two-thirty. I couldn’t cope with Margaret and Ginger fightingover the bed anymore so I went to sleep on the bus, but it was toocold.”

“Donna!” he exclaimed, sitting up.“We had the conversation about sleeping on the bus already! Youcould get mugged by a band of roving Republicans looking for campaignsecrets! Or freeze to death!”

“I didn’t expect it to be quite socold this late in the year. But I’m just so tired!” She could hearthe whine in her voice but was too exhausted to temper it. Josh wouldjust have to cope.

He sighed., which turned into a hugeyawn. “All right, come on then.” Sliding back down into the bed,he raised the covers to let her in.

She stared in disbelief. “Josh…”

“What?” he asked, blinking at her.“You’re exhausted, I’m exhausted, we’re both practically fullyclothed and we have to be awake in less than four hours. If you don’tget any sleep tonight, both of us are going to be useless tomorrow.So get in the damn bed.”

Donna actually found that logicdifficult to argue with, though she suspected it might be mostlybecause she was so tired. Whatever the reason, she found herselfcrossing the room and slipping under the covers next to him. The bedwas deliciously warm on her chilly skin, and the pillow smelledpleasantly of Josh’s aftershave. “You don’t kick, do you?” shemumbled, her eyes already closing.

“Never had any complaints,” heassured her, reaching out and smoothing a few silky strands of herhair off his pillow and away from his face. She felt his hand barelyghost along her shoulder. “Go to sleep now.”

“Mm-kay.” There was a significantchance she would never hear the end of this from Margaret and Ginger,but as she slipped into deep, restful, kickless sleep, Donna thoughtit might just be worth it.

(This story is also archived at AO3 under the title “Roll Over.” ) 

[ash818]

could you write a little tiny(or super long-i dont mind) ficlet about one of Jon and Tish's snug harbor kinda sorta dates from before they started dating. maybe a little funny one or maybe one of them does something that makes the other fall a little harder.. prettyy please??

Tish learned to dance standing on Papa’s shoes.

On nights when he and Maman shared a bottle of wine with dinner, Maman would tug him to his feet and command the speaker, “Jouez-nous Louis Prima, s’il vous plaît!” She grinned at Papa and twined his arm around her waist. “Ce soir, nous avons besoin de Louis, ne penses-tu pas?”

Playful as he was in those days, Papa dipped her dramatically and then started to spin her across the floor. Tish knelt backwards in her chair to watch, until, laughing, Maman invited her to cut in.

“No shoes, no shoes!” Papa protested, because he knew little Laetitia thought he sounded funnier in English. “Take them off before you stand on me.”

Giggling, she plopped onto the floor and unbuckled her scuffed pink sandals.

“All right,” Papa said when she stepped barefoot onto his loafers and took his hands. “You know how to be Ginger Rogers?”

She shook her head.

“You do everything I do, but backwards. And here we go!”

There were other nights when Maman finished that bottle alone, and after she died there was no more dancing. But Louis Prima was no less real for that.

Tish has not thought of it in years.

Between sets at Snug Harbor, Jonathan Queen sinks stiffly onto the bench seat along the wall and stretches out his bad leg. One second he grimaces in pain, and the next he smiles up at her. “So where’d you learn to do this?”

“Dance?” She takes a seat next to him, because it seems more polite than hovering. “I did theater in high school, and you learn all kinds of things for shows. Cinderella is the reason I can waltz.”

“You can waltz?” He looks her over in a way she’s not sure she likes, and he goes back to rolling his ankle. “Of course you can waltz.”

Tish draws herself up to take offense, but then she realizes that the smirk is really more of a fond smile. Instead she says, “Are you in pain?”

“It’s just muscle cramps.” He props his ankle on his knee, digs his fingers into his calf, and starts working his way down toward his Achilles’ tendon. “They rub right out.”

She feels a sudden and inexplicable urge to do it for him, so strong that she actually leans forward. Then reality reasserts itself, and she freezes at the edge of the bench seat.

There is nothing strange or inappropriate about wanting to take care of him. He has risked his life protecting her more than once, and all she has given him in return are a few mugs of sweet steamed milk. It would absolutely be strange and inappropriate to kneel at his feet on the dirty barroom floor and work her hands up his calf. Dear Lord, please don’t let him see her burning cheeks in the dim light.

“Time for their next set,” Jon says, eyes on the band as they take the stage again. “You want to go again?”

After two songs, it is clear that the muscle cramps have not rubbed right out. His rhythm falters, and though it would probably be unnoticeable to a casual observer, Tish nearly falls out of step with him. Compensating for an injury is hard on the rest of the body; in the brief moment that her arm loops around him for an open position, she can feel the sweat at the small of his back.

“I’m a little bored with this song, to be honest,” she says, the next time he pulls her into closed. “Do you mind if we sit down for a bit?”

“Sure. You want another drink?”

“I think I would. But excuse me for a minute first.”

In the restroom mirror, she dabs sweat from her neck and pins a few loose curls back into place.

When she suggested dancing as physical therapy, she did not think it through much farther than, “We’ll spend an hour goofing off to innocent sixties pop.” She failed to imagine the breadth of Jon’s hand on her shoulder blade. She did not anticipate the smell of his soap or the roughness of his fingers. She swallowed hard the first time she stepped in close and found herself eye level with his buttons.

He once collapsed from blood loss right into her arms, and her attempt to catch him quickly devolved into a controlled descent to the floor. She should have remembered his sheer size, at least.

She pulls a tube of lipstick from the pocket hidden in the folds of her skirt, and she reapplies. War paint, as Jon called it. British Red always steadies her nerves.

She has danced with co-stars who grabbed her by the inner thighs for lifts, or who bent her back dramatically for stage kisses. There is really no need to be so adolescent about Jon Queen’s calluses.

She returns to find him flirting unsubtly with the older woman on the barstool next to him, who seems more amused than interested. As Tish comes within earshot, the woman snorts into a laugh too undignified to be anything but genuine.

Jon seems to count that as a win by itself - just charming someone for a few minutes. It’s an interesting side of him. Brash, loudmouthed Jonathan Queen has at least some small part of him that looks very young and very earnest and says, “Like me, like me, like me.”

“Oh, there you are,” he says, pulling out the barstool for her. “Morgan, this is my friend Tish.”

“Hey, there,” Morgan says with a broad, knowing sort of smile. “I was just telling him he should think about letting you lead. You might teach him a thing or two.”

It is a familiar joke. The conversation will go flat as day-old Coke if Tish tries to explain that leading and following are very different skill sets, that she can’t break with her left foot anyway, and that she wouldn’t have the first idea what to do with a Jon prepared to move on her say-so. Instead she says, “What makes you think I haven’t been?”

Morgan pats Jon on the shoulder. “Oh, you watch yourself with this one, honey.” She gets to her feet, and she raises her drink to someone across the room. “It was nice to meet y’all. Take care.”

Tish takes the seat Jon saved for her, where a beautiful cocktail already stands gleaming with condensation. A candied orange slice floats in it, dusted with cinnamon. She has had two already, and this one is likely to make her silly.

“I stole a few sips,” Jon confesses. “It was just as good as it looked.”

It is the kind of thing he does to his sister - assuming the right to drink from her glass and eat from her plate. Tish gestures to the Collins glass in his hand, bristling with mint. “Then let me try. Fair is fair.”

It is what Abby would say.

Jon looks prepared to laugh when Tish takes a sip, so she braces herself for something bitter and horrible. Instead - “I can’t even taste the alcohol.”

“That’s because there is none,” he says, taking it back. “I’m driving you home, remember?”

This is a perfectly sensible answer, and there is no reason to melt over it. He has every incentive to drive sober regardless of whether she is in the car with him, and this bare minimum of adult responsibility is not for her benefit.

“It was my father who taught me to follow a lead,” she says before she can stop herself. “As soon as I was tall enough.”

Jon’s expression freezes, and then he very deliberately shifts toward her on his barstool. “It’s, um. It’s hard to picture him doing that.”

It is not difficult to imagine, had events played out two degrees off-angle from their actual course, that Jon might have shot Papa. It is not difficult to imagine taking him dancing and wanting to rub his sore muscles anyway. “I don’t mean to convince you that he was a good man, but he wasn’t always… what he became. There was a time before Maman died when he could be very - there was a time when he let me dance standing on his shoes.”

Jon nods for her to go on, though he cannot quite smooth away his opinion of Abel Cuvier. His jaw, his fist - something always clenches resentfully when Papa is mentioned.

“I think he liked the idea that I might grow up to be a dancer. He was always generous about lessons and shoes and costumes, and the one recital he was able to attend was some of the most lavish praise I ever heard from him.”

The line between Jon’s eyebrows softens. “Yeah? What’d he say?”

Maman beamed in the front seat on the way home, just listening to Papa’s glowing review. “He called me a little swan, and he couldn’t wait to see me en pointe.”

“With the toe shoes, you mean?”

Tish nods. “He didn’t get his wish, in the end.”

“What happened?”

How to put this delicately? “Oh, adolescence. It became pretty clear that I was not going to have the ideal ballet body type.” She hesitates, and then she tells him the other, more honest half of that story. “I might have stuck with it anyway, but then Maman died, and I lost interest.”

The line between Jon’s eyebrows has reappeared and deepened, but she feels no judgment in it this time.  “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” she says, so quietly that the band must drown it out.

“If it’s any consolation, random strangers in bars still think you’re hot shit,” Jon goes on. “That woman who was here a minute ago asked me if you dance professionally.”

Tish laughs. “No, she didn’t.”

“Swear to God.”

“Then she must not have seen many professional dancers.” But she can feel herself glow with the compliment, so she lifts her glass to hide a smile in another sip.

No one would describe Jon as sensitive, but it is surprisingly easy to tell him things. She has trusted him with her safety since the mask came off, and now, time and again, in small ways, she finds she can trust him with the things that are most difficult to explain. If she were just a little drunker, she might even tell him that sometimes she misses Papa.

“Hey, are you hungry?” Jon says, pushing his half-empty glass away. “I don’t mean for bar food. You want to go to Sukho Thai?”

They ate dinner at his parents’ house just a couple hours ago, but if he needs another meal to satisfy his staggering caloric requirements, she’s happy to tag along. “I could be in the mood for a spring roll.”

Somewhere in the middle of sipping jasmine tea and watching Jon ruthlessly hunt down a stray noodle, it occurs to Tish that this entire evening - drinks, dancing, dinner - strongly resembles a date. Had Jon flirted with her instead of a stranger on the barstool next to him, then there would be no other interpretation.

“Best physical therapy ever,” Jon announces, leaning back in his chair. “I’m going to fire that torture technician with the exercise ball.”

Tish casts her eyes down and sets her teacup aside. Had this been a date, it would be in her all-time top five.

“You all right?”

“One drink too many,” she says quietly. “I think they’re catching up to me.”

He chuckles and pushes his plate toward her. “All right, lightweight. Have some carbs and finish that water.” And he starts glancing around for the server.

When Jon drops her off in front of her apartment building a little after midnight, she leans across the center console to kiss his cheek. “Thank you so much.”

His smile looks a little bemused. “Yeah, of course. You want to do this again next Friday? It’s Eighties Night.”

No, she does not want to go on not-a-date with Jonathan Queen again in a week. Yes, she wants him to hold her comfortably in closed position again, and she wants his hands to move her through a spin, and she wants him to smile at her just like this. Her imagination shies away from what comes after that.

Nothing needs to come after that. After all, it is only dancing.

“Next Friday,” she agrees.

She glances back on her way to her front door, and she catches a glimpse of him rubbing absently at her lipstick print on his cheek.

[thespecialrelationship-phff]

Chapter 12

AN: Happy Friday! Blanket disclaimer for the rest of the chapters that there could be mature content (not saying this one has some) but just keep that in mind. Thank you for all the amazing feedback from the last chapter! You guys rock. -M

FLOTUS POV

I’m sitting at the breakfast bar as the sun rises. I couldn’t sleep last night, at least not well. Every time I closed my eyes the events of last night just kept replaying: our conversation, his laughs, the kiss.

Oh god, the kiss. My stomach flips at the thought.

Unable to sleep I woke up, worked out and and got dressed. When Anna makes her first appearance I’m picking at a fruit parfait. She falters when she sees me, something that only would happen before her first cup of coffee. Usually she’s on her second pot by the time I’m up to have my first cup.

“Good morning Kennedy.” She walks over to the coffee pot. “You’re up early.”

“I know.”

She stares at me warily, “And you’re dressed.”

“I know.” I smooth my hand over the starched material. The light yellow fabric is covered with wildflowers, green, pink, blue. It’s one of my favorite dresses.

“Coffee?”

I shake my head, “Not right now.”

Anna looks at me with wide eyes, “Why don’t we go sit on the couches?”

I let Anna slowly walk me over to the collection of couches. I sink into the soft cushion, conscious to not wrinkle my dress. My eyes drift out towards the windows, the sun makes the surface of the lagoon sparkle with the first boats of the day beginning to make the journey across the water. Anna holds a mug of coffee under my nose. Routinely I grab the cup.

We both sit quietly for a moment, the two of us sipping on our beverages.

“So, how was last night?”

“Last night?” I ask innocently then drink again. “It was fine.”

“Just fine?”

“Really, it was fine.” I insist. I know that I could tell Anna anything and everything but not right now. I don’t need to overthink this, it was just one kiss. Well two kisses, but they were so short.

“Okay.” She stands. “I’m going to look through my press packet for this morning, right over here. If you want to talk…”

“Okay.” I interrupt, then continue to sip on my coffee. Slowly I can start to feel myself wake up and with it more and more conscious thoughts from last night. I can hear Anna typing away just a few feet from me, but vivid thoughts from last night still overcome me.

I jump when my phone beeps. Café downstairs in an hour.

So we’re definitely still having coffee. I’m dreading the moment when I have to tell Anna and my secret service that we’re meeting Harry for breakfast. I’m about to call out to Anna when I hear her curse.

“What?” I ask.

Anna walks back over to the couches, her iPad in hand. She sits across from me and reads, “Prince Harry looked at @FLOTUS all night, whispering, giggling. Definitely a romance happening there.”

“What’s that from?”

“A tweet, complete with a picture of you and Harry in a monorail, you in his arms.” Anna shows me the IPad.

I look at the photo, knowing the precise moment it was taken. Then I glance down at the retweets and favorites. This picture is going to be all over the place.

Anna wrenches the IPad back. “Then there’s this one: ‘Spotted Harry & FLOTUS last night, all over each other.’ And that user attaches a photo of the two of you in the lobby, embracing.”

I bite my lip, rumors are one thing, but pictures are always worse. And those pictures tell one specific type of narrative. I’m not struck with the usual dread. No, this morning I’m looking at the way Harry’s looking at me in those pictures. And I want to kiss him again.

“You’re not angry.” Anna says flatly. She puts the device down. “What the hell happened last night?”

“He organized a private monorail ride.” I say, hopefully keeping a straight face.

“How private?”

“Completely, no officers or anything.”

“Wow.” Anna leans back. She purses her lips.

“What?”

“Honestly that sounds kind of boring.”

I throw a pillow at her. “We talked.”

“Those pictures don’t look like two people who were just ‘talking’ for an hour.” She glares at me, not falling for any of my bullshit. “What else happened?”

I can feel myself blushing.

Anna’s eyes go wide. “Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.” She stands, speaking purposefully. “You had sex with Prince Harry.”

“No!” I stand too, holding out my hand to stop her. “We didn’t sleep together.”

“Oh.” She sounds disappointed.

“We kissed though.”

“Really?” I nod. She screams. “Oh my god you kissed Prince Harry!”

Her excitement is infectious. “I kissed Harry. Oh my god. Holy shit, holy fucking shit I kissed Harry.” I collapse back onto the couch. “Shit. I’m in trouble.”

“Probably.” She pauses, then adds thoughtfully. “I would imagine he’s a decent kisser.”

“It wasn’t that long of a kiss.”

“Then kiss him again.”

“May I remind you that as my Chief-of-Staff you should be discouraging me from this.”

“Where is it in my job description that I have to tell you not to hook up with attractive, wealthy gingers?”

“When the man in question happens to be a prince, I think it applies.” I sigh. “The West Wing isn’t going to like this.”

“No, they won’t. I can handle them though and the public, that actually is my job.” She begins typing on her phone. “You’re going to meet him right now, aren’t you?”

I nod. No point in lying. My whereabouts are rarely kept hidden, especially from her.

“Promise me you’ll think about what you want from this, then conduct yourself in public accordingly.”

“Fair enough.” Now just to decide what I actually want from here.

I make my way down to the café without incident, struck by a massive sense of déjà vu. It was only a few days ago that I was meeting Harry in another restaurant in the same hotel.

Unfortunately, the walk hasn’t enlightened me any. I don’t know how I feel about the kiss beyond the bundle of nerves twisting in my stomach. From excitement? From dread? I wish I had a fucking user manual sometime.

Fortunately, when I arrive at the delicate Victorian themed café Harry isn’t there. I have a few more precious moments to think.

The dumbfounded waiter leads me to a table near the windows scattered around are a few other couples. It makes sense I suppose this environment doesn’t really scream family friendly.

I order a coffee and water while I wait. Thinking, trying to decide what to do. I was tipsy last night when we kissed and revealed too much to be sure. However, I’m not sure if I’m to the point where I regret anything.

I sigh. Then get angry. It was one f-ing kiss, a good kiss, but not something to be worried about. I’ve been kissed plenty of times before. I’ve been kissed more thoroughly before. I’ve been kissed by more attractive men. I’ve been kissed by more interest-

I frown. That must be the problem. I’m just intrigued. Which means the best course is to just play it cool. A fling.

A fling with a prince. A fling with a prince and the daughter of the leader of the free world…no big deal.

“Kennedy?” His voice breaks me out of my reverie. I glance up then flinch. He’s much closer than I expected. “You looked like you were in your own little world.”

I chuckle lightly, yeah something like that.

I stand and get a better look at him this morning. His eyes are soft today, maybe still hazy with sleep. Of course he’s wearing one of his Invictus polos and a pair of jeans. I’m starting to doubt that he’s packed anything else.

Instinctively we both lean forward for a kiss on the cheek. I can smell his cologne, dark, comfortable this morning. It feels intimate.

He leans back and squeezes my hands, “You look great.”

I blush then look down. “We should sit.”

He agrees and we both sit. “How did you sleep?”

The question is innocuous enough, but I contemplate on whether or not to tell the truth. I decide for a half truth, “Restless a little.”

The waiter returns for our orders.

I can feel his eyes on mine throughout the whole process. His gaze is like a weight, palpable and not necessarily unwelcome. When the waiter leaves I glance at him. He’s staring at me, not in a penetrating way but in a thoughtful way, as if he’s trying to remember something. A slight smile on his face makes me want to know just what he’s thinking.

I try to stare back, but end up looking away. “You have to stop looking at me like that.”

“Make me.” He says laughing lightly. The man is basically a five-year-old trapped in an adult body, a very handsome adult body.  “I’m just thinking about that kiss.”

Immediately I scan the area around us looking for prying eyes or ear. I lean forward and hiss, “You can’t say that word.”

“What word?” He replies innocently.

I roll my eyes, “Don’t be obtuse.”

He chuckles, “Fine. We’ll refer to it as swimming.”

The code word isn’t a bad idea. I nod my head.

“Good. I was just thinking about how much I enjoyed swimming with you last night.”

Never have I word the swimming used in such a loaded sense. Each syllable was laced with innuendo. How in the world does he manage that?

I sigh, and decide to feign detachment. “If this is how you act after one ki-” Harry raises a brow in warning. “..after one swim I can’t imagine…” I trail off dramatically.

“You’re right.” His smile drops slightly and he nods solemnly. When he looks back up his eyes have lost that sleepy element. Now they burn slightly, they’re darker and deeper. “Did you imagine what I would be like after more? Is that why you slept so restlessly?”

I’m at a loss for words, my mouth dry.  This is a side I haven’t seen. This isn’t flirtatious teasing, no this is seduction. And I’m ill-prepared.

His fingers gently brush again mine, soft but full of purpose, promise. A trail of goosebumps is left in its wake.

Then suddenly he leans back in his chair, resting his elbow comfortably on the back. “But something tells me that you’re about to tell me that last night won’t happen again.”

He sounds confident, but I can pick up a bit of disappointment in his eyes. A fission of pleasure works its way through me. He has no idea.  And I do love being contrary to him. “You’re wrong.”

“What?”

“I’m not opposed to it happening again.” I lean back as well, folding my hands above my crossed legs.

“Really?” He asks suspiciously.

“But I have some ground rules.”

He frowns and rolls his eyes, looking much more like a disgruntled child than a handsome prince. “There’s always rules.”

I can’t help but laugh. “So you don’t even want to hear them?”

“Now I didn’t say that.”

Just then the waiter returns with the pastries we ordered for breakfast we both murmur our thanks. I take a bite or two and sip my coffee.

Harry sighs impatiently.

“I can’t, won’t do long term.”

Again, he frowns. “I remember why.”

“So that goes hand in hand with no public displays.”

He pauses for a moment, thinking it over. His fork carefully breaking through the fluffy pastry. Part of me wants him to say no, to demand a change of the rules. But I know that it wouldn’t matter. I really do only have so many options and I’m willing to be only so reckless.

“Someone showed me twitter this morning. You know that our attempts at discretion only get us so far, people assume.”

I nod, it’s a logical thing to point out. “Fair, but all I’m asking is no smoking gun.”

He opens his mouth then abruptly closes it.  The smirk tugging at his lips makes me want to know just what he’s thinking. “What were you about to say?”

“I had the fleeting thought to say…” He stops again, his shoulders shaking with the effort of suppressed laughter. “I could show you a smoking gun.” He leers and sends a wink.

It’s just not what I was expecting. The cheesy pick up line coupled with the delivery…I hold my napkin to my mouth to muffle my laughter. Harry’s looking on as well, shoulders still shaking. Eventually we both calm down.

“Sorry, for the record you asked. My filter actually worked for once.” I smile at the ‘for once’ addition.

He sets his cup down, all business once again. “Today’s the second to last day of the games. And you say there’s no chance for long term. So what you’re proposing is a-”

“A fling. Yes.” I look at him unflinchingly. Yes, I’m propositioning a prince but I’m still the First Lady. I’m going to be confident about it.

“So quickies in hotel rooms?” He doesn’t sound too pleased by the idea.

Frankly, neither am I.

I put out a steadying hand. “I’m just saying whatever happens, happens. I’ve really enjoyed myself the past few days and you are a part of that.” I shrug. “Let’s just have fun, relax.”

He looks at me thoughtfully. “Basically you’re not guaranteeing anything.”

“Pretty much.”

I can tell he’s not totally sold on the idea. I just wish I knew why. Is it because I want casual? Or because I’m not saying ‘let’s go do it in a closet’? While he’s thinking I realize that I just need him to realize why this sounds perfect to me.

I lean forward, “Two days. Nothing planned, nothing contrived, just us. You can’t tell me that it doesn’t sound amazing. We’ll be hiding the biggest secret right under the world’s nose.”

He looks away out towards the windows. The resort is starting to become a little more populated, the sleepy tourists beginning their day. Harry’s thinking but I see the moment he decides. He licks his lips just barely then smiles. He can’t resist the opportunity.

“Okay.”

“Great.” I smile, satisfied with myself.

“On one condition.” I scowl. “Would you expect anything else?”

I huff. “No. What’s the condition?”

“For the next two days, just be yourself Kennedy. Don’t put on the character.”

“Harry…” I say warningly. “That’s not fair.”

“Watch the people be charmed by you not her, just like I was.”

“I don’t see how that would affect anything between the two of us.”

“I disagree.” He leans back again, looking annoyingly calm. “Kennedy, she’s the one I want to kiss again.” I look frantically around when he says that. “Not Margaret Randolph.”

It’s two days, only two days. Yeah and it was only two kisses. Now look where I am: actually contemplating this scheme. Maybe the promise of Harry was the motivation I needed. Or maybe it’s the surreal world of Disney. But I’m actually considering this.

“What do I get out of this?”

“Me.” He responds. I raise my brow at the hubris. “Sorry, joke. Seriously, you get me but without hampering you for something more. I’m not a fling kind of guy, Kennedy. But I’ll make an exception.”

I try not dwell on the fact that he’s making this exception for me.

“So?” He asks.

I take one last fortifying breath. Then I brace myself. “Fine. Yes, deal.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

He smiles fully now. “Great. Come on.” He stands abruptly then holds his hand out. I look pointedly at his hand then at the restaurant. He drops his hand. “Oh, right. Follow me.”

I stand slowly, then walk slightly in front of him. “Where are we going?”

He jerks his head to the side once we leave the confines of the restaurant. We’re still in the resort though and surrounded by our security guards. Harry quickens his pace until he’s leading me, towards the exit I think, maybe.

Quickly we’re moving through the halls, I’m struggling to keep up in my heels. I’m tempted to ask him to stop once we step outside.

But he stops first as we round a corner and he jerks me towards me. We’re in an alcove, partially hidden by a large palm tree and the curved wall. My back hits the cool stucco. I look up at Harry in confusion. “What the-”

And his lips are on mine again. I’m not prepared and the effect is tremendous. I have no preparation no place to ground myself so I’m lost in him. I’m lost in the way that his lips press against mine soft and gentle at first. Then he shifts, a shift I can feel like there’s an electric line from him to me.

I part my mouth opening to him, needing him to be closer. He smirks, growling slightly. His hands tightening on my waist to pull me closer.

We’re pressed against one another. I can feel every hard inch of him. I revel in it, finally melding my tongue with his. Harry’s lips pull and press with mine, as if they want to know every secret. Goddamn, if I don’t want to show them all of it.

Instinctively, my leg bends, placing my heel flat on the wall. It has the effect of pressing me closer in the most intimate of ways.

Harry pulls back slightly. He looks at me, eyes hooded. We both just watch one another. I run my tongue over my lips slowly, daring him to kiss me again. Harry bites his lip in response, his eyes shifting close just every slightly.

His hand finds purchase on the wall next to my hand, his palm slapping the concrete flat. He’s caged me in against the dull noises of the resort.

As we hold each other’s gaze his other hand leaves my waist. I pout slightly. Harry nips gently at my lip.

Then I feel his hand on my knee, rubbing slow, large circles. His hand isn’t soft, but the calluses feel as if they mark my skin, each rough patch marring the smooth expanse of my leg. It’s jarring, leaving every nerve at attention.

His voice is low and rough as he continues to rub my lower thigh. “I’ve wanted to do this since you wore those shorts last night.” He squeezes roughly and I inhale sharply, never more aware of that space. Then he moves higher. I can feel his hand disappear under the soft material of my dress and slip. “And then I see you in those heels today…” He groans softly. “I’m so fucking glad you said yes.”

“Me too.” I say breathlessly, enjoying each caress on my thigh.

Finally I pull him back to me, tired of talking when there are much better options. This kiss is just slightly more desperate than the last. His lips are more forceful, pushing and caressing. I match his passion, mingling my tongue with his.

I lose myself in the moment, focusing on the sensations, his lips, his chest and his hand resting so comfortably on my thigh. It’s been ages since I’ve felt this spark, this hunger. Not a part of me wants to deny it.

Good Mickey Morning Montogmery family!

Harry and I pull apart abruptly. I wince as my head slams into the stucco.

All the way from Ohhhklahoma, Ready to have a magical day? The all too cheery tour guide continues.

Harry looks down at me with a smirk. I roll my eyes, but stay silent. As we wait for the group to keep walking the rest of my senses come back. I can now hear the dull sounds of people, families, employees, and even the occasional seagull. The sweet aroma from the kitchen floats out to greet us as well. And the sticky heat begins to collect on my skin.

Carefully I look around.  The alcove was private enough, but I can only imagine how much our protection saw. Slowly I pull my leg down, Harry frowns playfully.

Finally the group passes.

I exhale I breath I wasn’t aware I was holding.

Harry steps back. We both look at one another for a moment. Until finally we both smile. “Two days.”

“Two days.” I echo.

Then he smiles, “Two whole days.”

I shake my head, “Come on Charming. We have work to do.” We walk out of our hiding spot. Immediately our protection appears. Shit. I will away any embarrassment. Surely these men have seen worst, right?

I do notice that none of them are looking at me. They’re all glaring at Harry who looks supremely uncomfortable. I have to admit, I’m kind of enjoying it.

“Miss Randolph.” And now it’s ruined it. Paul has appeared once again. He’s wearing another ill-fitting suit with a rather large tie. “Your Royal Highness.”

“Do you need something Paul?” I ask tersely.

“You weren’t on schedule.” Paul glances at Harry then back at me. “May I suggest you return to your room before attending your first engagement.”

His tone doesn’t sound very suggestion like and I can only imagine what I look like now. Self-consciously I touch my lips, hoping to pick up any smudges of lipstick.

I look over at Harry who’s smirking at me, no doubt satisfied with his attempt to muff my appearance. With a self-satisfied smile I rub at my chin pointedly. There’s a large red mark there. He blinks then wipes at it quickly.

“Until later, your royal highness.” I do a mock curtsey, still high from the effects of that kiss.

He bows deeply, “Miss Randolph.”

I walk away, swaying my hips just a tad more.

Chapter 11                                                                                         Chapter 13