#The use of text was brilliant here too

[scarletlizzard]

Inked Desires - Part 2

Read Part 1 right here

Summary: After your one night stand with a stranger turns into a regular hookup, feelings begin to develop between you and Natasha. A night out at the bar with your friends has her begging wanting more with you.

Pairing: gp!Natasha x fem!Reader

Tags MINORS DNI: natasha has a dick, buff out this world & covered with tats and piercings, little bit of yearning and pining, mentions of alcohol, smut, blowjob, unprotected sex, breeding, begging, miscommunication

Masterlist

A/N: Part 1 blew up like crazy! I never ever thought I would EVER get that many notes. Especially for, essentially, a smut piece I wasn't used to writing. After being asked a few times, I agreed to make a part 2, buuut I've been in a (bad) writing rut lately. So I wanna shout out the person who gave me so many good ideas and an actual plot to work with. Y'all can thank just her for there actually being a part 2 cause there almost wasn't one 🙏 Thanks for helping, kisses for your big brilliant brain.

Hopefully, she and y'all like it? It's a bit longer. Let me know what you think, please, and thank you thank you so much for reading 💞

That being said, there will be a part 3 😄

"Split? Like down the middle?" Kate asks with a look of shock on her face. You walk in step beside her along the concrete path on campus.

"Right down the middle," you laugh and adjust the bag on your shoulder, thinking back to just a few days ago when Natashas skillful tongue worked its magic on your body. Your cheeks heat up at the memory.

That first night you met, Natasha had given you a kiss goodbye and gave you her number before you took a very drunk Kate Bishop home. Since then you had seen the redhead multiple times over the course of the last few weeks. Neither of you seemed to be able to keep your hands off of each other. Each time you met it was for sex, and even the time she had taken you to dinner it ended with you getting fucked into her mattress again.

You knew the basics about each other, where you lived, eachothers jobs... the more you thought about it the more it upset you. The physical level the two of you were on was heavenly, but really, well, you barely knew her.

Kates voice interrupts your thoughts as you enter the English building, and you stop walking as she does.

"What was that?" You ask, looking to the smirk plastered on her face with curiosity.

"I said, speak of the devil," she chuckles and nods her head in the direction of a very tall Natasha striding your way. "See you in there," Kate says and walks into the classroom, leaving you in the hallway.

You want to drown in the sight of her, wearing dark jeans and a white t-shirt with old, dirty vans on her feet. You smile, trying not to drool at the way you can see the pops of color show from underneath her shirt or the way the sleeves seem too tight against her biceps as she grips the strap of her backpack.

"Hey there..." Natasha greets you with a smile, head pointing down as she stills before you. "Been a few days, haven't heard from you," she adds, her eyes baring into yours. You want to slap yourself for not replying to her text by the almost hurt look in her eyes.

"Well it hasn't even been a week, you miss me already?" You ask her with a little tilt of your head up at her, biting your lip as you see a blush spread across her cheeks. Her hand moves to the side of her neck, scratching at the ink awkwardly.

"No, no. Wait, I mean -" She lets out a sigh and shakes her head as you giggle at her. It was interesting, the difference in her appearance verses this nervous demeanor. "Maybe I did?" Natasha raises an eyebrow, the silver ring lifting higher.

"I might have missed you too," you shrug casually and watch as her face eases back into a smile. "I'm sorry I haven't texted, I've just been so busy with school and work." You point to the classroom next to you that Kate had entered. She follows the direction and nods.

"No worries, you're a busy lady. I actually took Mr. Furys class last year. Maybe I could take you for a coffee and give you some tips? Or maybe just um, talk?" Natasha asks, her tone quiet as she looks down to you.

You smile at the sincerity in her eyes. "I'm free after this class?" You take a step back, towards the room and match the wide smile on her lips.

"Sounds perfect," Natasha nods, and you can't ignore the way your heart speeds up in your chest. Instead of taking another step away you walk forward, leaning up on your tip toes to press a soft kiss to her cheek.

Natasha can feel the burn on her cheeks, the affect you had on her drove her wild. You lean back and smile at her flustered state, leaving her alone in the now empty hallway.

An hour and a half later, you emerge from the classroom, the butterflies in your stomach fluttering around at the sight of Natasha sitting on the floor. She had a book in her hand, closing it the moment she saw you and Kate walking towards her.

"Have you been sitting there this whole time?" You ask and tilt your head, watching the way her muscles flex as she runs a hand through her auburn hair.

"Uh, maybe?" A small blush hints on her cheeks, and she smiles at you and your friend. "I'm Natasha, by the way," she says and holds out her hand in front of Kate.

Kate chuckles at the formality, and you hit her arm, giving her a look. She shakes Natashas hand, "Kate... nice to finally meet you," She smiles back and looks next to her at you. "I'll see you tomorrow night, you should invite your friend."

You roll your eyes at Kates tease but nod and tell her you'll see her later.

"Coffee?" Natasha asks, and the ridiculous grin on her face is enough for you to agree to just about anything.

As you walk side by side, you can't help but admire her gentle personality. This woman, covered in tattoos and piercings with an intimidating gaze, was the complete opposite. She spoke to you about her schedule and that she was in school for sports medicine with a glint in her eyes.

"Like physical therapy?" You ask her curiously. You watched the way her face lit up at your interest, and she beamed down to you.

"Yeah, exactly that. If all else fails, I'll just be a personal trainer," she lets out a small chuckle, and you take the second she holds the door open for you to admire her toned body.

"How do I sign up? I need a good workout partner," you say with a flirtatious tone, brushing against her as you walk inside. You relish the blush on her cheeks and the small smirk on her lips as the smell of fresh coffee hits you.

"Didn't get a good enough workout last week?" Natasha replies.

"Oh, I had a great workout... but if I had a personal trainer, I'm sure I could get a good workout in at least a few times a week. Isn't that recommended?" You look up to her, seeing her neck redden and her eyes darken.

"I would definitely recommend that," Natasha mumbles as the two of you walk up to the counter.

As Natasha orders, you can't help but notice the change in her posture and attitude. Suddenly, she was standing straight, an impassive and series look on her face. Her tone was low as she talked to the woman at the counter. Natasha turns to you and nods for you to order. You do, and as she hands the woman her card, you smile up at her.

"Thank you for getting this for me," you say gratefully, watching her melt under your gaze. The smile was back, and her eyes came to life again. It seemed she had a soft spot for you.

"Of course, it's my treat," she says and walks you to a small table in the corner.

From there, you spend the entire rest of the evening actually talking and getting to know Natasha. As you already knew, she works out religiously, and you told her how lucky you felt that she had skipped her workout today just to sit down with you. She got her first tattoo at 18 and loved it, so she just never stopped getting them. The first piercing she got was on her eyebrow, and the same there, she just kept going.

It felt as if you were sitting in front of a whole new person than the one you met just weeks ago. The one who pile drived you into the mattress at a party and left you weak in the legs and sore the next day. Natasha was kind and sweet, funny, and surprisingly shy. Any time you made an attempt to flirt or give an innuendo, she would chuckle shyly and blush the slightest.

There were a few times you even had to squeeze your thighs as you thought back to that night. Any time her tongue would wet her lower lip or her eyes would travel to your neck. She loved your neck, you noticed. Every time you had hooked up her lips would go straight for the skin there, nipping at the few small freckles that adorned the area.

"That's a long time to be friends with someone," Natasha states as you finish telling her about yours and Kates relationship. Best friends since the fourth grade, completely inseparable.

"It's nice to have someone so close, who knows me so well. Especially since I'm an only child," you reply and watch her brow lift.

"Oh really? I have a sister, Yelena. She bugs the hell out of me, but I love her to death. She goes to the college just a couple of hours from here. Actually," Natasha looks at her phone, checking the time. "I'm supposed to meet her soon... she came home for the weekend."

You nod slowly and look around, realizing everyone had left and the two baristas were cleaning up. As the two of you stand, Natasha suddenly towering over at you, you feel a little disappointment in your chest. You were having more fun with her than you thought, and you found yourself not wanting to part.

"Hey, Kate and I are going to this bar tomorrow night. A few of our friends are getting together. Joes?" You say to her, smiling to yourself as she once again holds the door open for you.

"Yeah, I've been there a few times before," Natasha says with a grin, standing outside the coffee shop with you.

"If you want, maybe you and Yelena can meet us? You don't have to, of course, but..." You trail off.

"I will definitely be there. Text me a time?" She asks, and you nod happily. Natasha leans down, and you think for a second she's going to kiss you, but her lips land on the soft skin of your cheek. You put your hand on her arm as she does, feeling the tattooed skin burn underneath your touch.

****

Joes Bar is crowded, but that's to be expected on a Saturday night near a college campus. A local alternative band plays loudly on the small stage on one side of the room, and you find yourself on the opposite side sitting at the bar. Kate is nearby talking to friends and a few strangers, but you only had one person in mind.

You glance at your phone again, seeing no notifications. With a sigh, you finish your second drink, ordering a third as you contemplated the possibility she wasn't going to show up. This is why you didn't do this type of thing. You don't hook up with hot strangers. You don't get coffee with gorgeous, sweet women. You stayed to yourself, guarded your heart, and let yourself be safe from any type of rejection or heartbreak.

But God Natasha was worth breaking your rules.

You found your way back to reality as the bartender handed you a drink and said thank you before grabbing it and removing yourself from the bar stool. As you turn, you bump into someone, almost spilling your drink on them.

"Oh shit I'm so sorry!" You apologize, shaking the liquor off your hand as you had spilled a little on yourself.

"It's okay, I was just trying to squeeze in next to you," the woman says, and in your tipsy state, you raise an eyebrow. She seemed about your age, dirty blonde hair, and a familiar grin on her lips. You definitely hadn't seen her in here before.

"I was just getting up, actually. You can have my seat. Is that an accent I hear?" You ask curiously, moving out of the way so she could take your place.

"Yeah, I still have a bit of an accent, I was born in Russia. Lived there for a while," she says and nods. She then orders two drinks before turning back to you.

"Wow, you're a long way from there. You go to school here?" You ask her and sip your drink, feeling Kate stand behind you.

"No, but my sister does, though," the blonde smiles and grabs the two bottles of beer from the bartender. She looks at you and extends her arm towards Kate to hand her a bottle. You give her a confused look.

It's only then you realize, as an inked hand reaches over you to take the beer, that it's not Kate standing there, but Natasha. You turn instantly and look up, a habit your neck was quickly getting used to doing.

"Well, well, look who showed up," you say and take your bottom lip between your teeth. Natasha smiles at your words, noticing the way you take in her appearance.

If it was possible, Natasha looked hotter than ever. She wore a black t shirt underneath a leather jacket. Her flaming hair was behind her in a braid with a few loose strands framing her face.

"I see you've met my sister, Yelena," Natasha chuckles and nods in the direction of the blonde woman.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N. Natty here hasn't been able to shut up abou-" Yelena is cut off by Natasha flicking the bottle cap at her face, a stern expression on the older woman's face.

You smile at the siblings' banter, watching Yelena laugh and shrug innocently. Whether it be the alcohol flowing in your bloodstream or the way Natasha looked at you, you slide your hand into hers. She tenses at first, not used to the public display of affection from you, but quickly relaxes as you intertwine your fingers with hers.

"Come on, come meet everyone," you say and tug on her hand in the direction of Kate.

You find them huddled around a pool table, watching as Kate lines up the pool tip to the cue ball with one eye closed. Carol stands leaning against her own stick, shaking her head and putting out the cigarette she smokes into the ashtray on the edge of the table.

"Anyday, Bishop..." Carol groans, earning a laugh from the group.

"Seriously, how long are you going to take?" Peter chimes in.

Kate ignores them and continues to stare intensely at the 8 ball. Her arm begins to pull back to take the shot, but as Yelena comes into focus on the opposite side of the table, Kate is finally distracted by the beautiful blonde. The cue ball misses her target completely, rolling across the table and sinking into the pocket.

"Scratch!" Carol cheers and high fives Monica. Kate looked up at Yelena, her lips parted as if she was going to speak, but no words came out. Carol then steps up to the table and sinks the 8 ball, ending the game with a dramatic bow.

You smile at the group, raising an eyebrow at the silent state of your best friend. "Guys, this is Natasha and her sister Yelena," you say, receiving waves and friendly greetings from everyone. You introduce them to the Romanoffs a little more before they rack up for another game.

"You any good?" Carol nods to Natasha, who gives a humble shrug.

"I'm decent," she replies with a smirk on her face as she brings the bottle to her lips. Carol hands the pool stick over before going to get drinks for the group.

"Hope you're good, Romanoff. We still haven't beat Y/N," Peter says begrudgingly. You only hum in response as Kate hands you her stick, positioning yourself across the table.

"Is that so?" Natasha watches with playful eyes as you skillfully break, the balls rolling in different directions along the table and a few of them sinking into the pockets.

When you lean up, you smile and reach your hand up to pat her cheek. "Good thing you didn't bet anything," you chuckle.

After a few back and forth turns, Carol returns with shots, to which you all cheer and take at the same time. The alcohol was definitely settling its way into your system now, and you were hot to the touch each time Natasha had to lean down to take her shot. Between the focused look on her face and the way the pool stick slid between her fingers, it was enough for you to want her right there.

You step forward next to her, looking at the direction of the shot she was trying to take. "That's a tough one, baby," you say to her, the term of endearment catching Natasha off guard.

Her body visibly tenses as she looks to you with a visceral reaction and swallows hard. You feign an innocent smile, taking a mental note to call her that again just to see her reaction. Natasha misses the shot and curses under her breath.

"That's not fair," she says and shakes her head as she stands tall. The red head removes her jacket, finding that the room was getting hotter.

You shrug and easily pocket two more balls on your turn. When you look to Kate to make a comment about the shot, you realize she's strayed from the group, chatting up Yelena. With your friends being in their own worlds at the moment, you decide to have a little fun with Natasha.

"You're not so bad, you know. The others have a hard time keeping up with me," you smile as she leans down, and your hand rests on her back, rubbing over her shirt.

"Y/n," Natasha mumbles, the blush on her cheeks evident she enjoyed your touch.

"Yes, Nat?" You pur, watching the muscles flex understand the fabric. Knowing you had this type of effect on her gave you a sense of power that only made you hungry for more. Your hand slithers underneath the bottom of her shirt, nails scratching at her back. She misses. You smile.

"You're a cheater, you know that?" Natasha says in a playful tone, her body naturally leaning towards you.

Your hands rest on her stomach, "I don't know what you're talking about." You lean up and plant a soft kiss on her lips, smirking as she leans down and melts against your mouth. "I'm just having fun," you whisper.

At that, you step away from her, crossing over to the opposite side of the table. You lean down more than you need to, and you don't miss the way Natashas eyes dart back and forth from your breasts to your neck. She finishes another bottle, and you can tell you've stressed her out by the way her hand grips the glass.

You continue to do the same thing for the remainder of the game, teasing her with every shot she took and making sure to bend in front of her any chance you could. It came down to the 8 ball, and you had to admit, you were dragging the game on longer than you needed to.

"Last one," you sigh and put your hand on the back of her neck as she leans down. Your fingers squeeze gently as she clears her throat, trying to ignore the shivers that run down her spine every time you touch her. You lean down with her, your lips brushing against her ear. "Good luck, baby," you whisper and kiss her cheek.

Her neck gets red at your words, and her grip on the stick only tightens. You think it'll snap in half with how hard she holds it. Natasha quickly shoots and misses, causing you to raise an eyebrow with just how quick she took the shot. Instead of stepping back, she continues to stand pressed against the table. "All yours," she mumbles and holds her hand out to the table, shifting uncomfortably as she stands.

You line up the shot and sink the black ball easily, looking up at her with a wide smile. She only gives you a small smile back with a nod. "Aren't you going to give me a victory kiss?" You ask as you step back to her.

Natasha hesitates for a moment but finally turns to face you. Your hands move up to wrap around her neck, your body pressing against her front as she leans in. Before your lips can touch your eyes, widen the slightest. You now realize the reason for the sudden uncomfortable physical shift she had taken when you felt her bulge pressing hard against you.

"Oh... was I teasing you too much?" You ask with a smirk on your lips. She rolls her eyes and moves to pull away, but you don't let her. "What was it?" You ask her.

"What was what?" She replies, her hands moving to your waist. You press your body further into her and relish the hiss that leaves her mouth.

You search her eyes, thinking to the moment her demeanor had changed. Suddenly, there was that power-hungry feeling again when you realized the reasoning. The fact that you could get her hot and bothered by a simple word leaving your lips, by your voice alone, and the thought of you driving someone like her mad. Natasha was weak in the knees for you, and she struggled internally with the way you made her feel. She wasn't used to it.

"Why don't you let me help you take care of your little problem... baby, " you whisper to her, feeling her shoulders tense above you. "Come on." You slide back and take her hand in yours, leading her away from the pool table and towards the bathroom.

As soon as both of you are inside and you lock the door, the two of you are on top of each other just like the first night you met her. Natasha kisses you feverishly, like she'd never been kissed before, with your back hard against the door. You welcomed her tongue into your mouth, moaning as the two halves wrap around your own.

With one hand, you hold onto the front of her shirt, gripping tightly, with the other you slide it in between your bodies, letting yourself grope the hard bulge in her jeans. Natasha lets a hint of a whimper leave her lips, one you hadn't heard since the first time with her, and you smirk into the kiss.

"What's the matter, baby? Do you need some help?" You ask innocently, lips ghosting hers. She breathes heavily and nods as your hands move to undo her belt.

"Sweetheart... please," she says, and you decide in that moment that you need her to say that again. Just the idea that this strong, formidable woman could so easily melt in your presence made you thrilled.

Her hands rest on either side above your head, pressed flat against the door as you slide her pants down. You can see the precum dampening a spot on her underwear, and you feel yourself get wet at the sight of it. She needed you, bad.

"Please, what?" You ask, your hand moves to grab her through her boxers, and you stroke her length through the thin fabric.

"Fu-fuck," she barely breathes out, eyes searching yours. Natasha hadn't begged a day in her life, but she would happily beg for you. She was at the point right now that she was willing to get down on her knees and beg for you. You made her desperate.

"Please touch me, please. You feel how hard I am for you? Just -" You squeezing a little harder makes her gasp before continuing. "I need you to touch me. Please, sweetheart... please, " she begs. You smile at her words, enjoying the way her body melts at your touch and the way she begs for you.

At her words you slide down her boxers, and her cock twitches at the feeling of finally being released. She lets out a sigh of relief as your delicate fingers wrap around her. "Is this what you wanted?" You hum, beginning to move your hand up and down. Natasha nods, chest beginning to rise and fall rapidly at your movements.

When you stop, she looks at you with a disoriented look, eyebrows lifting as she watches you drop to your knees. You take her cock in your hand, letting your other rest on her thick, toned thigh. From here you can see her happy trail peaking from underneath her shirt, making your panties wetter. The way she looks down at you with a breathless expression and parted lips makes you want to live your life on your knees for her. Your lips kiss along the side of her length, teasing slowly with your tongue licking up it. Natasha groans with pleasure at the feeling and her hips instinctively buck towards you.

You give in, not wanting to tease her anymore tonight, and take her cock into your mouth. The moan that leaves her mouth is outright sinful, and her fist hits the door with a thud as you begin to bob your head. Your cheeks hollow out when you begin moving faster, taking as much of her as you could. When the tip hits the back of your throat your eyes sting, tears threatening to leave your ducts. Natasha pants heavily above you, savoring the moment of you on your knees for her, sucking her off.

"Look at you, such a pretty girl with my cock in your mouth- fuck," Natasha speaks low to you, her eyes dark as she watches her cock disappear against your lips. Your fingers on her thigh dig in, your nails digging into her skin to leave crescent shaped marks, at her words. "All night you've been teasing me... this is the only way to shut you up, isn't it?" She says and you moan against her, the vibrations sending her close to the edge.

Her breathing gets heavier and you can tell she's about to cum, but before she can you quickly remove your mouth, your saliva coating her as you release with a pop. You stand, not ignoring the frustrated look on her face.

"Baby, I think you're confused," you say, your hands moving to the top of your dress. "You're not in charge right now," You let out a small laugh and pull down on the fabric, letting your breasts spill out. Natashas face reddens in response, and she immediately moves to kiss your chest. You can feel the marks she leaves as her lips trail across your breasts, her skillful tongue pleasuring your sensitive nipples.

Natashas' large hands move to the bottom of your dress as her kisses begin to litter up your neck. You let her move the material above and over your hips, but stop her as she reaches your panties. "I wanna hear you," you mumble out. She lets out a huff and pulls away from your neck.

"Y/n... please." Natasha says. You only continue to look at her with innocent eyes. The fact that she would beg for you - is begging for you, made you feel instant gratification.

"Please, pretty girl? Please let me make you feel good. I want to fuck you, want to make you feel good so bad..." She begs, and you let her slide your panties down your legs. Natasha slides her tip between your closed thighs, her cock now being coated from the wetness that spread between your legs.

She slips in between your folds, waiting for your words. Her fingers dig into your hips. "You drive me so fucking insane," Natasha whispers as her head ducks to your neck again. "I could cum from just looking at you. Just hearing you say my name. You know how much control you have over me?" Her hips continue rocking against you, your thighs squeezing her hard cock. She begins to pant again, her neck red and hot to the touch as you wrap your arms around it, interlocking your fingers behind her head.

"Please," Natasha whimpers, and the sound is enough to make you moan. You needed to feel her inside you immediately, hear more of those moans leave her lips.

"Show me how bad you want me, how insane I make you feel," you finally say and lean forward to bite her lower lip. She wastes no time lifting you up, helping you wrap your legs around her hips. Your back presses against the door again and with one hand she guides her cock inside of your warm velvet walls, easily ,with how wet you were for her.

Natasha begins to thrust up into you, a feeling you had become accustomed to these past few weeks, although you weren't sure you'd ever get used to her size. She groans against your chest, nipping at the skin. The small bathroom fills with the sounds of her pounding into you, both of you moaning practically in sync with every thrust.

"So good, pretty girl, feel so good wrapped around my cock. I love fucking this pretty pussy," she breathes heavy against your skin as she speaks. You hold on tightly to her, only breathless moans escape your lips in response.

Suddenly, from the outside, someone bangs on the door, Natasha doesn't halt her descent on you. "Can you hurry the fuck up in there?" A stranger yells from the other side. Your eyes widen, a little bit of adrenaline rushing into your chest as she continues fucking into you.

Natasha smiles, now at your flustered state. "Occupied," is all she replies before her thrust picks up the pace. "You better keep quiet, sweetheart. You don't want everyone to know how much of a slut you are for me, letting me fuck you in the bathroom."

You squeeze your eyes closed as she fucks herself into you, trying your best to keep quiet. Each thrust was now hitting that special spot inside of you and drawing you closer to an orgasm. The feeling of her muscles flexing around you only intensified that feeling.

"Fuck I-I can't I'm-" Natasha stutters out as she groans into your neck, feeling your hot cunt tighten around her cock.

"Me too, Nat," you moan along with her, and your legs squeeze around her waist. "Let go, baby... wanna feel you fill me up." You watch her face twist in pleasure at your words, and the fact that it was enough to make her cum only added to your ego in the moment. Natasha grunts against your skin as she does just what you say, filling you up completely.

The sensation alone is enough to make you follow right behind her, the burn in your lower stomach blazing as you scream out her name.

"That's it, sweetheart, that's it... such a good girl for me," she coos as you fall apart in her arms, kissing your face as you breathe heavily. Your head falls against her shoulder, face panting in the crook of her neck as she holds you tightly, letting you come down off your high.

After a few moments she pulls out slowly, and you can feel the mixture of both your arousal dripping down your thighs. Natasha carries you to the sink, letting you rest on the hard surface while she pulls her pants back up and you fix the top of your dress.

"Hi," she says with a smile. You giggle, remembering she said the same thing afterward on the first night at her party.

"Hi," is all you reply, grabbing her shirt in your hand and pulling her closer to kiss you again.

****

"They have eight legs and eight eyes. How are they not scary?" Peter drunkenly speaks to Monica, who sits next to him with an amused look.

After your time in the bathroom with Natasha, the two of you had rejoined the group, and over the course of two hours, you had become increasingly wasted with the rest of your friends. As Yelena joined in on the topic of spiders, you feel Natasha rest her head back against your front.

She sat slouched back in one of the chairs that scattered near the table while you stood behind her, hands stroking her neck and massaging her shoulders. You can't help but smile down at her.

"You're so cute," you giggle and watch her brow raise. Your finger traces the dark lines on her neck.

"Anything but cute," Natasha groans, with a playful smirk on her face. "Why do you say that?"

"You're different than you look, you know? Why are you so nervous around me?" Your words slur, and she chuckles at your drunken state with a shrug, looking at the beer bottle she held in her hand.

"Must be the alcohol?" She says. You shake your head and poke her nose.

"You were drinking when I first met you, and you weren't like this," you point out and watch her swallow. You decide to move in front of her, settling yourself between her muscled thighs. As you stand in front of her, she sits up straighter, the two of you now practically the same height.

You take her hand in yours, playing with her fingers. She smiles a little as she looks at your intertwined hands.

"Maybe I was drinking that night to get enough courage to talk to you... and maybe I- maybe I'm drinking tonight to get enough courage to say I want more with you. More than... the hookups," she says and finally looks back up at you. Your heart races in your chest at her words, panic written on your face as you freeze in front of her.

That was exactly what you wanted. More of her, more of this beautiful person who was even more beautiful inside. To get to know what makes her really tick, what makes her happy, how her day was, how she likes her coffee. She wanted more, too, so why were you not speaking out loud?

"What?" Is all that comes out of your mouth.

Natashas face falls completely, misinterpreting your flustered state for a sign of rejection. She had hoped this wouldn't happen. Part of her wondered if this had just been a hook up, but the other part of her desperately hoped it wasn't.

Before the words could leave your parted lips, Kate calls over to you, taking the attention of both you and Natasha.

"Y/N, you ready to go? You can stay if you want, I'm gonna take Pete home, though," she nods to the direction of where he sat drunk rambling to Yelena.

"No, not -"

"Actually, Yelena and I have a lot to do tomorrow. We should head out too," Natasha interrupts you and stands, her hand moving to your lower back as you stare up at her with a pout.

"Are you sure?" You ask her, your hand reaching out to her side. She tenses under your grasp.

"Yeah, I'll text you later," She smiles at you, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes this time.

You nod anyways and smile back, leaning up to kiss her lips softly. "Thank you for tonight.. Hopefully, we can do it again soon?"

And while you were talking about hanging out with her, Natasha assumes you were talking about her fucking you.

"Yeah, soon," she lets out a breath and grabs her jacket, not taking a second look back at you as her and Yelena exit the bar.

***

A smile fills your face as your head hits the pillow, the soft comforter pulled over you as you lie on your warm bed and mull over tonights events. You wondered why Natasha had left in such a hurry before you could say anything, but you decided not to think too hard on it. She probably did have to go. It was early in the morning by the time you left, and besides, you would hear from her later.

Every morning, she texted you a quick and sweet text, telling you to have a good day.

Your chest swelled at the thought of it, how sweet it was that such a small, simple thing could brighten your entire day. What you assumed would happen tomorrow is that the two of you would talk about wanting more and how desperately you agreed with her about it.

But when the late morning came and the sunshine streamed through the windows, no text came with it.

[haoboutyou]

gym crush | choi seungcheol

fluff | 1151 words | suggestive descriptions. i’m y/n’s just really thirsty

an: please take this as a formal invitation. requests are open! (whether i answer on time is another problem)

you don’t like the gym. absolutely not. it gets super hot and humid inside, it stinks of sweat, and the big machines always intimidate you.

what to do? you’re just a girl.

you usually wouldn’t even phantom the idea of stepping foot into the gym if it wasn’t for your best friend. really, the only reason why you’re even sitting in one right now was because you arrived too early for your meet up with him.

that’s how you ended up perched on a high stool, legs swinging as you patiently look around while soonyoung finishes up his last few sets of… pull-ups? you’re honestly not sure. how he’s still chatting with you while completing his sets – barely panting through it, too – is beyond you.

“so i was thinking,” soonyoung casually starts, lifting himself like he was made of paper. “we can get dinner at the new italian place downtown? i heard they’re having a opening promotion right now.”

“mmh, sounds good.” your eyes are flitting all around the gym, trying to find something interesting enough to catch your attention.

“right, i almost forgot! seokmin texted earlier; he said he’ll drive by to pick us up later too.”

“really? that’s great.” you sound enthusiastic but your hunched posture informs soonyoung otherwise. at this point, your best friend can tell that you’ve tuned out of the conversation. he huffs at the way your eyes zone into the far corner of the gym, where the weight benches are. soonyoung scoffs more when he realises your eyes are trained on a very specific person, watching intently at the way the muscles on his arms bulge every time he lifts a dumbbell.

“yeah, he also said he saw mingyu running into a tree earlier… even said a rat fell on him and started pulling at his hair and controlling him like a robot. do you think the rat would make a better chef than mingyu?”

“wow really? that’s great.” your replies get progressively monotonous as you keep your eyes trained at the corner. yeah, now he definitely knows your mind has completely left the conversation.

your breath hitched as you watched the mystery man run a hand through his faded red hair, baggy t-shirt sleeves hitched up to reveal more of his biceps? triceps? never have you ever wished you paid more attention to your biology lessons back in high school.

everything about this mystery man has you swooning. the thick veins on his hands running up his arms, the way his eyebrows furrow in concentration, how the sweat glistening on his forehead seemed to cast a heavenly glow all around him. you can’t forget the grunts he lets out with every movement, entrancing you with his deep voice. gosh, even his hands are perfect. an angel has descended to soothe all your gym-related problems, converting you into a devout worshipper of his physique.

you’ve never been more thankful for soonyoung’s suggestion to wait in the gym.

soonyoung’s arms may be burning from hanging on the pull-up bar for too long, but he just couldn’t believe his eyes; your mouth is hanging open and– wait, is that drool?! is his best friend really drooling over a man in the gym?!? a laugh of disbelief escapes him as he finishes the last of his rep. soonyoung mutters a quick prayer of thanks to god for gifting him prime blackmailing material. he drops back to the ground and swiftly snaps a picture of you, in all your thirsting glory, before he picks up the rest of his stuff.

“y/n,” he calls out. “i’m gonna hit the showers and then we can go. you good staying here on your own for a bit?”

“yeah, yeah! i’m not going anywhere, don’t worry.” you wave him off, not even bothering to turn towards your best friend. soonyoung lets out another tut as he turns towards the gym’s locker room. that is, before a brilliant idea comes into mind.

“hyung!”

the red-haired man turns towards soonyoung’s voice. “hoshi, you’re going already?”

your best friend nods his head, grinning at how your eyes seemed to pop out at the way he was casually talking to your new-found eye candy. “are you doing anything tonight? i’m meeting seokmin and the others for dinner later, wanna join?”

“kwon soonyoung!” you whisper-hiss. “what the hell are you doing? you guys know each other!?” is that blush creeping up your neck he sees? the tips of your ears tinge so pink soonyoung thinks he can almost feel the heat radiating from them.

“thanks, but i’ve already got plans.” the mystery stranger shoots you a gentle smile, flirty (flirty?!) wink (WINK?!?) towards you. still, you can’t hide your disappointment; you would’ve loved to get to know this new-found work of art more.. “maybe next time? you can properly introduce me to your pretty friend then too.”

soonyoung thinks he heard a strangled cry from you, coughing as you somehow manage to choke on your own saliva. he chuckles at your suffering. “sure, hyung. i think she’d like that too!”

soonyoung doesn’t know what to expect when he finally emerges from the locker room cleaned and refreshed, but it definitely wasn’t you raining attacks on his sore arms and shoulders. seungcheol (he had introduced himself to you while soonyoung was gone– in fact, the two of you managed a whole conversation while he was gone (no, you were so shy and embarrassed you were barely able to keep eye contact with him)) waves at the both of you as you leave the gym to wait for seokmin to arrive.

you’re convinced the blush on your cheeks is going to be a permanent feature of tonight. it doesn’t help that it becomes the main topic during dinner with seokmin and mingyu, the other two boys cracking up at soonyoung’s dramatic retelling of your new-found gym crush.

(it also doesn’t help that you had a balled up fist under the table all night, hiding the hastily written phone number on a piece of paper that seungcheol had managed to slip to you while you were leaving, mouthing the words ‘call me!’ behind soonyoung’s back.)

-

bonus!

“remember when you couldn’t keep your eyes off me when we first met?” seungcheol swings his arm around you, broad shoulders almost engulfing you whole.

you groan, choosing instead to bury your head into your boyfriend’s chest. soonyoung cackles from across the booth. you have to physically restrain yourself from clawing him alive.

“hyung it wasn’t just that; she was drooling over you!” he wiggles his eyebrows, ignoring the daggers you were staring his way. blush makes its way up your cheeks, dusting them pink.

seungcheol laughs, planting a kiss on the crown of your head.

“if it makes you feel better,” he whispers in your ear. “you were my gym crush too.”

soonyoung almost falls off his seat laughing when you blush even harder.

[pyromaniac-cyndaquil]

It's been a lot of work over a lot of time but I think I can finally share this...

PMD:EoS, but with all of the starters!

...Including Grookey, finally!!!!! 🥳

Introducing PMD: Expanded Sky!

This is a public mod available to download now! It adds in all starters from unova all the way to paldea, as well as zorua, axew and rockruff, and allows evolving eevee into sylveon.

Speaking of which, fairy type has been patched into the game! Disarming voice replaces milk drink and moonblast replaces judgement, which was unused.

Some non-traditional starters are no longer available as hero options in this due to lack of space, but are still available as partners. (Skitty can be chosen as a hero in version 1.0.0 only, so download that version instead of the latest if you wanna use her! Riolu and Shinx are available in version 1.2.1 and below)

If one of your faves was taken off the hero roster (eg vulpix, skitty, riolu, munchlax, etc), I have a tutorial here on how to quickly edit the patched file to put them back in :)

Several regional variants have been added! Alolan Raichu, Alolan Marowak and Hisuian Typhlosion are now available as potential evolutions for their respective base stages.

Partners across both rescue team and all three versions of explorers are available too, including Cubone, Munchlax, Machop, Vulpix, Riolu, etc

Sprites and portraits are courtesy of the brilliant PMD Sprite Repository and the many incredible artists who contribute to it!

Credits for all improvement patches, sprites and portraits are included in the download, as well as an explanation on how to patch the game and the full starter list.

The mod is split in two versions to accommodate all the partners - MIDDAY version and MIDNIGHT version. The download includes both, as well as the tool required to patch your game! You'll need a clean US copy of pmd eos at hand.

A full list of moves learned by newly added Pokémon can be found here, as well as info on how to evolve them and their IQ groups.

If you run into any issues, feel free to drop me an ask or DM and I'll see how I can help/what I need to fix!

You can find the download for this rom hack here!

Edits/updates noted under the cut:

(27/04/23)

The overall mod now has a name - expanded sky! Reflected earlier on in the post.

I've been informed that the included patching tool (XDelta) doesn't work on mac, and after some digging around and discussions in dms we found this tool works for Mac instead.

Added graphics to the post displaying which heroes and partners are part of the hack.

(11/05/23)

Added link to learnset compilation for all new pokémon.

(17/05/23) Version 1.1.0 has been released!

Sobble is now a starter, replacing Skitty (Skitty is still accessible by downloading v1.0.0 on the download page). Sobble is also now a partner in MIDNIGHT.

Zorua/Zoroark's moveset has been tweaked slightly

Base forms of all new starters can now be found in Oran Forest, and can be recruitable in the post-game. The new fire starters can also be found in Giant Volcano.

Extra portraits and sprites were added for Cubone, Psyduck and Machop. Like the rest of the new assets in this mod, these were imported from the PMD Sprite Repository, and credits are on the title screen and in the readme.txt.

Extra credits + more in-depth instructions for patching the game included in the readme.txt.

(18/05/23)

Added a link to a tutorial on swapping out heroes for others already existing in the game.

(22/05/23) - Version 1.1.1 has been released!

Fixed genders for female starter options on the quiz. Updated Fuecoco to use new portraits and sprites. (Credits to Garbage)

(23/05/23) - Version 1.1.2 has been released!

Female starters from gens 5-9 can now evolve correctly (save for starters who don't have evolutions in the game yet - these are listed in the text file in the download)

Rockruff can now evolve, and Midnight Lycanroc's evolution method has been fixed to use the Lunar Ribbon as intended.

(15/06/23) - Version 1.2.1 has been released!

In 1.2.0, a second version of the mod was included in the zip compatible with melon emulator, and potentially others that were having issues with saving.

Fairy gummis were also made available as mission rewards and shop items.

There's a couple more things that can be seen in the changelog including bugfixes, but the main other thing promised was that Froakie and Litten can now evolve directly into Greninja and Incineroar. Due to an evolution flag not being set this ended up untrue, but has been fixed in 1.2.1.

This post claimed dazzling gleam is in the game, but it should've said disarming voice.

🆕 (10/03/24) - Version 1.3.0 has been released!

Dusk Lycanroc, Drizzile, Inteleon, Grookey, Axew and Fraxure have been added, as well as Alolan Raichu, Alolan Marowak an Hisuian Typhlosion.

Axew replaces Shinx in the hero roster, and Grookey replaces Riolu. Additional portraits and sprites added for starter evolutions, including vanilla starters. Sleep animations have been copied over to EventSleep/Laying/Wake animations if missing.

Greninja erroneously had the same moveset as Froakie. This has now been fixed.

Credits are no longer displayed on the title screen.

Sprite, portrait and patch credits can now be viewed by talking to a Cyndaquil NPC on the crossroads.

Evolution help can also be accessed by talking to this same NPC.

[ghost-proofbaby]

twenty four hours (modern eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR TWENTY ONE

in which you try everything you can to make eddie feel better after his encounter with chrissy - to make him forget, to make him feel cherished, to make him feel worthy.

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, a single use of Y/N, smut (p in v), oral (m receiving), voyeurism, edging, good old fashioned ball worship if you squint, maybe some sub!eddie if you squint even harder, upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ wc: 7.3k+

→ a/n: shout out to @hellfire--cult for the balcony idea. i knew i'd get them there at some point, little freaks. and everyone say thank you to @icallhimjoey for the early post 😏

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

21:00 ─────────────ㅇ── 24:00

HOUR TWENTY ONE - 12:00 PM

STEVE-O: why do you guys suck so much at providing photographic proof of being alive? seriously

You’ve been staring at Steve’s text ever since the two of you arrived back at the apartment. You’d reply soon enough, but for now, the message was a distraction.

Eddie wasn’t speaking to you.

Not in a brooding sense, but in a way that let you know he was too far gone in his own head right now for you to reach him. When you’d said those words to him, when you’d admitted that you found him worth it, you saw his eyes glaze over slowly. You’d watched in real time as he slipped away from you. It might be that he doesn’t believe you, it might be guilt that continues to gnaw at him for a past that can’t be changed — whatever it is, you hate it.

The easy solution would be to send Steve the photos from the cafe, but you’d already tried that. Your thumb had hovered over that photo of Eddie with a mouthful of croissant, still bright and brilliant before all his waves of self-hatred had gotten ahold of him, and you just couldn’t. It was selfish, it was ridiculous, but you couldn’t share that piece of him with others. Some small, childish, hopeless bit of you needed to cling to the man in that photo and keep him safely inside your chest. It wasn’t a new version to your friends, they’ve always tried to defend Eddie and convince you he wasn’t all bad, but it was new to you. It was all so unexpected and unforeseen, the look behind his golden eyes as he seemingly looked right past the camera and right into you. 

No, you couldn’t send that photo. It was for your eyes only. A souvenir you had greedily stolen. 

Eddie had excused himself to the bathroom when you two arrived at the apartment, and this time, there was no dirty intentions behind it. You left well enough alone — he needed a moment to be by himself and that was fine. You could entertain yourself until he was ready to come back to you, back down to Earth. Right now, you were currently picking apart an almond croissant as if it were the most interesting thing you’d ever laid eyes on. 

Croissant dissection — see? You absolutely could distract yourself in order to give him space. Absolutely no sarcasm there.

You finally sigh when you see a message bubble pop up with three little dots, signifying Steve is typing again. You don’t give him the time to properly finish out his message before you click on your camera icon, snap a shot of the picked apart croissant in front of you, and send a message with the image attached.

YOU: we were eating breakfast, eddie’s been in the bathroom. happy, mom?

STEVE-O: he’s been in the bathroom for an entire hour? 

YOU: oh, you know how you men get with toilet time. 

Despite the playful tone of your texts, your face is completely flat, chest still heavy as you think about Eddie behind the wooden door. Should you be giving Eddie this amount of space? What if it’s doing more damage than good?

You’re about to stand from the stool you’ve occupied for nearly ten minutes now and go try your hand at knocking, try and remind Eddie that you’re still here, when Steve’s next text comes through. 

STEVE-O: stop bullshitting me. what happened? 

You swear you taste metallic blood from how hard you bite down on your bottom lip, staring at the mocking message. You can’t even begin to explain to Steve what has transpired, not just this last hour, but the entirety of the time. The parking garage, the joking marriage, Chrissy showing up, Eddie’s painful vulnerability – you can’t find the words to tell him about any of it. The same as you can’t find it in you to send the photo of Eddie in Betty’s. 

YOU: nothing happened. do you need any more proof than that?

He only reacts to your message with a thumbs up. You assume that means you’re in the clear, for now. 

When you exit your thread of messages with Steve, a new thread that has been started catches your eye. It’s a new number, no contact on it. The only message sent is from you – the photo of you with your coffee, head thrown back and eyes shut with a wide smile boosting your cheeks. 

Eddie’s phone number. 

You look at the photo of yourself for a while, trying to not cringe at your appearance. To you, you just looked ridiculous. You don’t understand why Eddie wanted this photo preserved so badly. Your smile is too wide, your eyes are mere slits from the way your cheeks were squishing up with joy, most of your makeup you’d started the night with has long since faded due to a multitude of activities. You don’t feel like anything special in this photo.

But Eddie had wanted it. He had deemed this moment in time of you as picture-worthy, had gone so far as to send it to himself so that he’d have this memory even if you deleted it from your phone. 

Before you think too hard on it, you tap on that line of numbers and add a proper contact profile to it. 

EDDIE. You keep the contact name simple, eager to get it out of the way as you move onto the next step. A contact photo. You don’t even have to ponder on it – in a flash, you’ve selected the picture of him with the croissant. 

You’re back on the thread of messages – or, at least, the singular message – and don’t stop yourself as your thumbs begin to fly over your keyboard.

YOU: why were the almond croissants almost sold out? 

To be fair, you didn’t even know if Eddie had his phone on him. That green message stares back at you for a few moments before you get your answer. 

EDDIE: Excuse me? 

He has his phone. You lift your head, looking at the closed door of the bathroom before glancing back down at your phone. 

YOU: because everyone went NUTS over them. 

You perk your ears and listen for any sign of life from down the hall. Anything. A scoff, a pitiful laugh, him calling you stupid aloud. You’ll take whatever he offers. 

It takes a moment, and you truly have to strain to hear it, but you can hear the laugh that would better pass as a sigh. 

EDDIE: Is that supposed to be a joke? 

YOU: ‘supposed to be’. excuse me, it was definitely a joke. and a very good one, at that. 

EDDIE: Debatable. 

You find yourself smiling down at the phone. Your neck aches from the way you keep glancing up suddenly at the door, silently pleading for him to come back out. To come out and fight with you, come out and bicker with you, come out and ignore you. Anything, for him to leave the bathroom and do anything but keep that door shut between you two. 

He doesn’t, so you send another bad joke. 

YOU: what did the customer say when they looked at the croissant? 

This time, he plays along. 

EDDIE: I don't know, what? 

YOU: what a BREADtaking sight. 

This time, you hear a more proper scoff come from within the bathroom. 

YOU: i heard that. don’t even try to tell me it wasn’t funny. 

EDDIE: I’m not laughing because they’re funny. I’m laughing because they’re BAD. 

YOU: bet you wouldn’t say that to my face. 

Immediately, you discard the phone, facedown on the counter as you look up to the door with unbridled hope. He could always ignore the comment, choose to not respond and continue to sulk away from you. It’s entirely possible – but you pray to every star in the sky that that isn’t what he’s going to do. 

Please come back out. Please, even if just to sit in silence with me. 

Your prayers are answered.

Slowly, painfully slowly, you hear shuffling on the other side of the door and await for the click of the door unlocking. It never comes, though – the door was never locked in the first place. He opens it, and you realize that the entire time, you could have stormed into the small room with him and demanded that he not hide away.

But you didn’t. You gave him space, gave him patience, and it’s clear he knows this as he comes out. 

His eyes are red. As if he’s been crying. 

“Hi,” you meekly say, taking in his face past those red-rimmed eyes. The tip of his nose is a fading shade of pink, as if he’s been rubbing it incessantly, and he sniffs for good measure as he turns the bathroom light off and walks to where you are. 

“Hi,” his voice is rough around the edges as he greets you back. He won’t look you in the eye once he’s within reach – his gaze remains downcast, and you catch him fiddling with a few of his rings. 

You hadn’t considered what you would do if you got this far. In every carefully considered scenario, you’d assumed he’d shut you out. You never expected him to come straight to you, as if seeking out comfort from you, without you having to beg it of him. 

His eyes catch the croissants on the counter, torn apart and lazily picked at. He’s about to open his mouth and say something about it, probably questioning what you had done to the poor pastry, but you don’t give him a chance. You’re quick to snatch up one of the pieces you’d been picking apart to snack on for yourself and hold it out to him. An olive branch, an offering – a reason for him to sit and stay for a while with you. 

He takes it tentatively, finally looking you in your eye again as he takes a small bite. It’s nothing compared to the bite he had taken when you’d snapped the photo of him, mere crumbs compared to that mouthful. 

“Did you just… massacre our croissants?” he questions, squinting his eyes down at the crime scene. 

You shift your body jokingly, failing at blocking him from seeing the mess you made, “Absolutely not. I have no clue what you’re talking about.” 

He almost cracks a grin, “Right. Of course. I must be imagining things.” 

“Wanna hear another pun?” you blurt out, suddenly nervous as he continues to stand before you. You hate the incessant need inside of your chest that calls for you to comfort him, to make this all better for him. 

“I feel like you’ll tell me one even if I say no,” he raises an eyebrow at you, “So, sure.” 

“Why did the croissant go to the doctor?”

He hums, trying to peer over your shoulder again at the croissants you were badly hiding, “Let me guess. Is it because you tore it apart mercilessly?” 

“No,” you scoff, reaching behind you to grab another piece to offer to him as well as one of your own, “It was because he was feeling crummy, dumb ass.” 

A crack of a smile. It’s miniscule but there. It makes that terrible pun worth it, just to see him not looking quite as defeated is worth all the stars in the sky at this point for you. 

You’d certainly been the reason for his unhappiness in the past, and you surely would be again at some point. It all feels so inevitable; just as he believes that he can only bring you misery, you can’t imagine yourself bringing him joy. A belief that strikes something in your chest, something albeit more painful than you’d care to admit, but it’s true. You’ve crossed a line, you’ve changed everything, but the past still remains. 

You aren’t perfect. Neither is Eddie.

Heartbreak is imminent, but for this brief moment, you can make him smile. You don’t need to worry about the next time you’ll piss him off or upset him, you just need to focus on making that twitch on his lips more permanent. 

“I meant what I said earlier, by the way,” you decide to rip off the bandaid as he moves as if to sit beside you. Quickly, your words make him freeze. A bad sign, but you push through, because he needs to hear these things, “You deserve good things, Eddie. Good people, good things- you just… you deserve those things in your life.” 

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

He’s turning away from you. Turning and heading to the living room, walking away from you.

You don’t let him. In an instant, you get onto your feet and follow him, continuing despite him acting as if he’s finished with the conversation. You’re not.

“You’re a good person, Eddie,” you insist, reaching out for him before he makes it to the couch, “Don’t walk away from me.”

He spins easily in your grip. “Just because you say something, doesn’t make it true, sweetheart.”

He’s back to saying it like a curse. Like it’s a harmful title. As if it’s not a privilege to you and all your metaphors to hear that nickname fall from his lips. 

Right before your eyes, his defenses are on the rise. Brick by brick, he’s slowly reforming those walls to separate the two of you. Instead of defeat, instead of acceptance, it just makes you angry.

“Stop doing that,” you say quietly, carefully, firmly.

“Stop doing what?”

“That. Pushing me away. Locking me out,”  you tighten your hand on his bicep and watch the way his nostrils flare, “I fucking hate it.”

“Despite what you believe,” he takes a step closer to you, “Not everything I do is meant to piss you off.” 

“That’s not what I’m saying, and we both know it,” you can feel his muscles tense beneath your touch.

This time, his smile that emerges is cold. But you can still see the rubbage left by his tears — pink water lines and a new puffiness around his eyes. His words and his sudden cool demeanor can’t hurt you when you see it for what it is.

“Clearly we both don’t know it,” he chastised you, “We are very rarely on the same page. This isn’t a damn exception. You don’t have to prove your point, it doesn’t matter.”

He’s a wounded animal, striking out. He’s letting Chrissy’s words get to him.

“You’re worth i-“

“Don’t,” One of his hands shoot out to grip your waist, “Don’t fucking say that. Please. Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.” 

He didn’t believe you. 

“I meant it,” you whisper, anger shaking out of your grasp inch by inch as you realize that your words can’t break through to him, “I mean it. You’re worth it, to me, to St-“

“This isn’t about Steve,” he cuts you off, “It’s not about Steve, or Nancy, or Robin, or fucking Argyle. No need to play dumb anymore.” 

It’s about you.

You both know it. For once, contradictory to what he’d just claimed, you’re both on the same page. And like he said, no need to play dumb. 

“You’re worth it to me,” you say it with more confidence this time, “You’re a good person to me.” 

“How can you say that?” he laughs out, void of amusement, “How can you say shit like that after everything we’ve been through?”

How can you not?

You only squeeze his bicep tighter, and he returns the action by gripping your hip harsher. “Because I mean it. I believe it. Whether you do or not.” 

For a moment, the cracks in his armor expose themselves. 

“You shouldn’t,” his voice should waver, “You shouldn’t believe those things, Y/N. You should hate me.” 

“But I don’t,” And I never did.

“But you don’t,” he echoes.

You’ve done the opposite of what you had wanted. His smile is gone, that sadness creeping back up. You hate that. You don’t hate him — you hate that world of mourning behind his eyes, that defeat that brings his shoulders down and makes his grip on you falter. So you do the only thing you can think of to distract him. Make him forget.

“Make me hate you.” 

His eyes widen briefly, “Excuse me?”

“Make me hate you,” you practically beg of him, “Show me why you’re such a bad person and I’ll let this go. I’ll drop the conversation, we can- Fuck, we can forget this entire morning happened. Make me hate you, Eddie, and I’ll stop reminding you that I don’t.” 

His fingers curl back into you, slowly and gently, as his brows furrow. He’s considering what you’ve just said — more than that, you can see him trying to untangle all the hidden meanings behind it.

“And how do you suggest I do that?” his voice is low and calculated. 

You shrug, stepping forward, letting your lips get even closer to his, “Not my problem. Just make me.” 

The fingers are no longer gentle as he pulls you into him, finally catching onto the emphasis you place on those two little words.

Make me.

When his lips meet yours, they’re rough and brutal, taking greedily what they want from you. The only thing on your mind is making him forget. Make him forget, carry the load for him — they’re both more important than making him smile for now. Both these driving needs burn brighter in your chest because it’s clear that’s what he needs. 

You’re willing to give him whatever he needs right now.

“You want me to make you hate me, baby?” he mumbled against your lip, practically drinking in the way you gasp as he starts to pull back, “Is that really what you want?”

It’s what you want. “Yes.” 

And maybe you do too, when he leans back in to bite your lip. There will be another time for you to convince him with words that you find him to be worth it. Both hands from wrap around you and rough start to guide you back towards that fucking couch.

“Not the couch,” you suddenly protest, digging your heels into the carpet at the center of his living room, “Anywhere but the couch.” 

And oh, the way he’s looking at you in that moment might be your new favorite thing. Your new favorite color is his eyes as they sparkle with a bit of life that had been missing since the coffee shops encounter. Your new favorite sound is the silence that encases the little breath he lets out. Your new favorite movie is watching him move in slow motion as his eyes dart behind you, towards the door to his balcony, before his lips finally curl up with a hint of the genuine warmth that had been hidden behind his walls.

“Anywhere?” he teases, beginning to walk you backwards.

You nod, grinning right back at him.

“I think I have an idea.” 

If you had known twenty one hours ago that Eddie Munson, your sworn enemy, would have you out on his public balcony and on your knees for him in only a matter of time, past you would have….

Well, you don’t really care what past you would have done or thought anymore. You’re making him forget, yes, all while making yourself forget. You don’t care what you, twenty one hours ago, would or wouldn’t do as you let the past slip through your fingers so eagerly. All you can focus on is the dig of concrete against your knees, the way Eddie’s hands grip the railing as he leans against it, and the way the early afternoon sun forms a halo around him as you look up through fluttering lashes.

You just want to make him feel good. Every action is intentional, doing everything in your power to erase whatever storming thoughts had been haunting him so cruelly since Chrissy had so carelessly said what she had. You want to make him feel worthy. You want to make him feel loved.

Loved. You certainly didn’t love him — you couldn’t possibly, could you? He wouldn’t let you. You wouldn’t let yourself. But for now, you could play pretend; you could worship his body, drag his shirt out of the way and place playful kisses across his hips, and you could pretend that only this moment exists. 

“You wanna know what makes me such a bad person?” he sighs out as you let your teeth graze his skin, shoulders rolling to shake off that shiver you elicit from him, “This. The fact that this is all I can fucking think about.”

“Hm,” you can only hum in response, nails taking over the denim of the jeans he currently wore. You walk your fingers up his thighs, moving closer and closer to his zipper. Your mouth is nearly watering at the prospect of worshiping him. 

And the fact that any neighbor could walk out at any given moment and catch the two of you. You should probably insist on it being fast, on him being quiet, but the thought sends a thrill through the pit of your stomach. Your thighs clench and your cunt aches at the thought of being caught. 

You want to do more than make him bite back mere moans of your name. You want to make him scream.

Suddenly, a hand tangles into the roots of your hair, pulling back and making you focus on him again.

“Eyes on me,” he instructs. Once you focus on him and only him, he continues, loosening his grip and letting those fingertips rub at your scalp soothingly, “You know why you should hate me? For all the nights I pictured this.”

“Yeah?” you smile innocently, playing along. He can talk all he wants, you know once you get your mouth on him, he’ll be lucky to remember his own name. “How many nights, hm? Tell me all about them, pretty boy.”

You catch the wobble in his knees, the way his breathing picks up, the brilliant shade of ivory his knuckles stretch to. You lean back on your haunches, and the hand in your hair slips as he glowers down at you. 

“What are you-”

“Take off your shirt,” you calmly command.

“Excuse me?” 

“Your shirt. I want it off.”

His hand that was once tangled against your scalp now comes down to your face, movement slow but not hesitant as he pinches your chin. His thumb tugs on your bottom lip, and you let out, even making a show of letting your tongue peek out to tap at it. “And who said you were calling the shots?” 

“I did,” you put it simply, completely removing your hands from him now, “Take off the shirt, or I’ll leave you out here with blue balls.” 

You close your lips around the end of his thumb and his knuckles dig in deeper to the skin below your chin as you suck subtly. He chuckles, but you can hear just how breathless he goes at the small action, even as he keeps up the act with a hard press of his thumb on your lower lip. Your mouth hangs open for him, waiting patiently for his next move. 

A game of chess, an exchange of power, a fight for dominance. All the lines of who is and isn’t in control are blurred. 

“Have you always been so mean, baby?” he taunts, trailing what spit you’d left behind on his thumb along your lip. 

His movement stops when your lips spread into a provocative smile, “I learned from the best, didn’t I?” 

The retort had potential to backfire. You wait for smoke and glory, for him to pull away from you further. He’d slam down a brick right in front of your face, lay the mortar to leave you high and dry. He’d push you away, and you’d have to retreat, tail tucked between your legs in the shame of trying when it came to him. 

No smoke, no glory. He secedes, but makes no move to add to his walls, only removing his hand from your face and taking off the shirt. Just as you had told him to. 

“Better?” he asks as he makes a show of tossing the shirt to the other side of the balcony. It could have even flown over the railing, for all you paid attention to the scrap of clothing. Maybe some innocent bystander is on the streets below, confused to all Hell as to why it’s raining obscure band t-shirts. 

You’re just a bit too distracted to consider that right now. 

With Eddie’s torso revealed, all words seem to evade you. You catch the sweat beginning to gather across his sternum, watching the way he’s flushing beneath your gaze, reveling in the pink chest exposed to you as the blush crawls wider. Instantly, your original purpose is forgotten, the primal urge to pepper kisses and bites alike across his skin almost lifting you up off your sore knees. You want to leave bruises – you want to make him scream, you want to mark him up, you want to make him feel worthy. 

You stay on your knees, but compromise with all your wants as you lift up and stretch a bit. Your lips start their trail a bit lower than you (or Eddie) would have liked, taking their time to get familiar with the spanse of his rib cage first. You don’t nip with teeth, not yet. Just chaste kisses, lining each bone you can hardly feel residing beneath the skin, feeling his lungs expanding against your affection. Your tongue swipes alongside one of his side tattoos, a large and detailed dragon you hadn’t paid much mind to before. Every time you’d seen him shirtless, you’d been a bit distracted.

Not now. Now, you’re focused, determined to learn every curve and dip there is to explore on Eddie. You want to know him better than the back of your hands, memorize him more intricately than your own palms. After all, in order to worship a deity, you must know them. 

You return back to the center line of his abdomen, kisses chasing after one another, even taking the time to suck his skin between your teeth but never bite down. You pause once your lips rest right beneath his navel, the tip of your nose brushing that rough patch of hair that leads down to your end destination. Your hands reach for his belt, toying with the buckle.

Through heavy lashes, you look up at him, staring down at you in awe, “You know, you’re not doing a very good job at making me hate you, pretty boy. Think I might just have to worship you instead.”

A deity of your own making. A deity for your own taking. 

With skill, your hands undo the buckle effortlessly. You unbutton and unzip his jeans as if you’ve done this part a million times, as if you’d spent every single Sunday of the last year right here and doing exactly this. On your knees, worshiping him. This balcony, for all its exposure, certainly knows how to serve as a holy place. 

He opens his mouth to respond, but you’re impatient. You still haven’t left him speechless, meaning you still hadn’t made your point, clearly. 

His jeans hang loosely as they creep down his thighs, abandoned for a moment as you occupy your mouth against his hips. The hips you once thought would look so pretty properly decorated. You decide you were wrong – they don’t need ink burying into the skin, they need your teeth digging in. 

You cover that skin with mirroring images of bursts of purple and pink, flowering bruises that you take your time to mark onto him. With each suck and bite, Eddie rolls his hips into you, head leaned back and throat straining with each moan he swallows down. 

With the last hickey finished, you finally lean back, proud of your masterpiece as Eddie whimpers above you. Blooms in the shape of your lips mingle with faint and quickly fading teeth marks. 

“Fuck,” he gasps out when your fingertip stops trailing over your markings and comes down to apply the softest pressure over the straining bulge in his boxers. 

“What was it that you said earlier?” your finger traces over where you know a vein is – you know it because you’ve felt it, been driven insane by it – before circling around the wet patch now forming. He’s desperate, hips bucking again and a moan finally escaping. You think he’s bitten his lips hard enough in an attempt at self-restraint that they might be bleeding, “You said I’m not calling the shots, right?” 

“You’re not,” he pathetically grits out, hands forming tighter fists on metal railing, as if the moment he lets go of it they’ll find their way home to you. 

You lean forward, breath washing over his crotch before you place a feathery kiss to his clothed tip, “I’m not?” 

You are. You both know you are. A constant battle of control, an ever-growing fight for dominance. 

He lets out something crossed between a sigh of relief and a whine of protest when you remove your lips and hand from him completely, only to let out a sharp yelp when your finger curls into the waistband of his boxers and pulls back the elastic, letting it snap back into place sharply. 

“Say I am,” you barter, “Say I’m in control right now, and I’ll put my money where my mouth is.” 

You don’t expect him to break so easily. You’ve underestimated just how tightly you’ve caught him beneath your thumb.

“You’re in control,” he gasps out, head hanging low to meet your gaze fully, “You’re in complete and utter fucking control of me. You’re calling all the shots, baby. You always are.” 

He didn’t have to sweeten it up with baby, but it spurs you on. 

You shove his boxers down, watching his cock spring out for the taking. And you do as you promised; you put your money where your mouth is.

You start softly, taking your time as you gingerly suck on his pretty pink tip as you had his thumb. Hardly hollowing your cheeks, letting your tongue circle his slit to gather up the precum. You let the taste of him completely cover your tongue, even hum in satisfaction when he lets out a loud groan. It motivates you, feeds your fervor as you let his tip fall from your mouth and trail the tip of your tongue down the underside of his cock. That vein you’d traced with your fingertip, yours for the taking, covered in a faint line of saliva as you let it rest on your forehead and graze your lips against his ballsack. 

He can’t hide his shiver, even as his fist flies to his mouth to bite down on. 

“Have I ever told you how cute you are?” you say low enough for just him. You can hear the sounds of traffic, a dog barking, birds singing — all reminders of the outside world and the looming threat of being caught. Warmth floods you again at the reminder of that threat, thighs clenching closer together in a desperate search of friction, “Just falling apart for me, acting so tough for so long until I got you alone.” 

He whimpers your name. It’s the prettiest sound you’ve ever heard.

You wrap your lips around the sensitive skin, sucking and pecking away on one side before moving to the next. His reaction throttles your movements. When his hand loses the fight of resistance, coming down to the back of your head, you laugh breathlessly against the now wet skin. 

“Let me make you feel just how worthy you are to me,” you praise, pulling back finally, letting your nose brush against his sack as you do so. The hand that was once merely resting now tangles up in your hair — a warning. 

You let the velvet skin of his cock drag down your cheek as each movement is deliberate, taking your time and in no rush. You want to savor him like this. Imprint him to memory. 

You want to make him forget while making yourself remember. 

You want to remember the way his hand flexes at the base of your skull when you finally kiss his tip once more, remember the way his abdomen tenses as you sink him further into your mouth. You want to remember every little sound that escapes him as he hits the back of your throat, as you constrict around him, as you moan around his base and the vibrations have him slipping out of control. 

Your nails dig into his thighs to balance yourself, eyes watering as you look up at him. One subtle nod. He doesn’t need more than that.

Your jaw goes slack, trying to steady your breathing through your nose as you let him take control. His hips thrust at their own pace, gentle enough that he only grazes the back of your throat rather than bruise it. The issue is you want him to bruise it. You want him to mark you from the inside out. Until there’s no part of you left untouched by him. 

You gag again, and he slows. Your fingers that grip his thighs immediately tap against him, and he mistakes it as a signal to pull back completely before you chase after him, pressing him onto your tongue until your lips are snug around his cock a mere inch from the base. Your nose is grazing those pubes in the dead center of all your love marks. Shapes of semi-permanent scars that whisper, you’re worth it to me. I want this. I want you. 

The last thing on his mind was Chrissy Cunningham and her words alluding to him not being worth it. 

You make sure of it when you finally release him from your mouth and begin to pump with an eager fist, ducking down and returning to pay attention to his balls once more. You nuzzle the soft skin, let the tips of your canines graze them before you suck them onto your tongue as you’d done his cock. He’s no longer containing his moans – they flow freely along with curse words, chants of your name, sounds you’d love to capture and play on repeat until the end of your days. 

“Oh my God,” he groans out particularly loudly, “Fuck, baby. J-Just like that, please- Fuck. You’re doing so good for me. Such a good girl, just for me.” 

Your hand is still wrapped around him, slowly coming up to squeeze hard around the tip as you whisper up to him, “Only for you.” 

“Yeah? Only for me?” 

You don’t know how to explain to him that it’s true: you’re only ever that mean for him, you’re only ever this eager for him, you’re only ever this desperate for him. 

You don’t answer him with words. There are none. Instead, you take him back in your mouth, and you solely focus on bringing your deity to climax. The man you were worshiping, the man who was worth the ache in your knees that surely told you they would be left bruised, if not skinned. 

“Is it just like you imagined?” you question as you break your lips off him. He’s close, leaking precum excessively and entire body taut, “Was it worth it? To picture this, to want this so badly?” 

He almost can’t answer you, but somehow manages between pants, “It was. It is. You’re- fuck, you’re worth it.” 

“Good,” you drop your hand from him, leaving him right on the edge as you rest both sticky palms on the tops of your thighs. You look up at him with relinquished control – the perfect image of submission, for him. “Then you get it. When I say you’re worth it, you get it.” 

He’s clearly still reeling from you bringing him so close only to leave him hanging, teetering on a cliff as he stares you down. 

His chest heaves as he questions, “What was it you wanted me to do earlier?” A deceiving hand comes down, tucking any baby hairs behind your ear and cradling the side of your face. One moment, his thumb is stroking a soft arch beneath your eye, the next that hand is pulling you up, “Make you?”

You know that if you hadn’t been so eager to follow his touch, you’d still be on your knees. Even as you watch him take the reins, you know you will always call the shots – just like he had said. 

“You really think you can make me hate you?” you whisper once you’re standing tall in front of him, leaning your cheek into his touch.

“I shouldn’t have to make you hate me,” he corrects, the thumb back to gentle strokes, loosening the touch to be more tender once again, “You should already hate me.” 

“Why?” 

He flips positions immediately, your lower back now curving into the railing as he presses himself up against you, his achingly hard cock between your bodies, “Because of this. Because I always want you on your knees for me. Because of all the fucking filth I want to do to you. I want to bend you over, right here, and take you where anyone could see. I want to have you screaming my name loud enough that every single person on the streets of this city hears you.”

With each word, a knot ties inside of you, desperate for release. 

“Because you’re fucking right,” he leans down, lips going straight for your neck, not looking you in the eyes, “All it fucking took was for you to get me alone for one night, and now? I’ll never get enough of you, I’ll never get clean of you,” he takes a deep breath, and suddenly, his lips latch onto you, sucking the skin between his teeth and biting hard. You can’t stop your fingers from latching onto his curls, tugging hard, body rolling into his. It hurts, it stings, you need more, “Everything changes. And that includes me.” 

His face finally leaves the crook of your neck, pulling back to look you in your eyes. Doe brown eyes search yours, wide and honest and pleading. You let everything else melt away; for a moment, it’s only him and only you. The tension, the last twenty one hours, the last year — you let it disintegrate and focus on him.

It never mattered if everything changed. 

It only matters that he’s changed, irreversibly, and so are you.

“How can I hate you for those things?” you press into him again, this time less desperate and more consciously, “Do it.” 

“Do what?”

“All of it,” you trail a hand up his chest, “Every single thing you just said. Fucking- Do them. Bend me over, make me scream, change me,” your voice breaks, shaking with anticipation and need. 

It’s all the encouragement he needs.

Every single thing he wanted, he craved, he does. A flurry of him properly discarding his jeans as he unbuttons yours to shove them down, spinning you and shoving you hard enough into the railing that it digs into your abdomen and leaves you breathless. You’re hardly aware of the way you step out of your pants and kick them to the side, looking out to the city skyline but not seeing it. It’s all a blur as you focus on the way your shirt rides up and he grabs your hips, bruising you finally as you have desperately needed. 

You wanted to be left haunted by the end of these last few hours. You wanted to see him every time you looked in the mirror for the next week, to remember the map of where his body molded to yours. You want to dream of the way he stretches you as your underwear is ripped to the side. You want to be followed by the sounds of his skin slapping against yours as he snaps forward with intention.

Changing you. He has no idea that he’s already ripped you open from the inside out, has already rewired your entire chest and set flames to your brain. 

Everything changes, and sometimes, everything is only two people. Just you. Just him. New versions that would have never met had it not been for this stupid fucking bet.

“Eddie,” you nearly sob, nearly choke on, his name burning in your throat like kindling embers. 

His hand walks up your spine, trailing wildfire even with a layer of cotton between you two. Burning and singing away all you’d assumed for far too long. When he reaches the nape of your neck, he takes care in wrapping your hair around his wrist, tugging back hard and forcing you to stand from where the railing had been bending you in two.

“Say it again,” his lips brush you ear with every gasping breathing, timing with the way his cock is sliding in and out of your warmth, “Say it louder.” 

“Fu-“ you start to moan, cut off by him pulling even harder on your hair, making his point so that you cry out, “Eddie!” 

He thrusts harder. You swear you could feel him in your throat. 

“Scream for me, baby,” an arm wraps around your torso, firm and solid for you to cling to rather than the warming metal of the railing, “Tell them who’s making you feel so good. Let them know. Be a good girl.”

Even when he claims to have control, it’s your actions, your reactions, that call the shots.

It’s the echo of your voice that spurs him on as you chant his name over and over, as if he were your only God. Primal worship dripping from every syllable. It’s the tremble in your thighs that has him pressing deeper into you, chest glued to your back as if he could never get you close enough. It’s the clench of your cunt around him, a vice that sucks him in as you drag him closer to the high he’s been dizzily chasing since you first dropped to your knees in front of him. 

It’s you. You’ve changed him, as he’s changed you.

He pulls your hair until you rest the back of your head against his shoulder, back arching and feet still spread as he only maintains his quick and brutal pace, leaning down to whisper in your ear one last time.

“You know the real reason why you should hate me?” he grits out between to particularly forceful thrusts, “It’s not just because I don’t deserve you. It’s because I’ve wanted you for so long,” you’re right on the edge, fluttering around his cock as his movements stutter. A tell tale sign. “I- fuck, fuck. It’s- God, I’ve loved you for so long, and I’ll never be fucking worthy.” 

You shatter around him in waves. Your entire body tenses as the words dig claws into you, piercing through vines and blooms. His body stills, warmth flooding you deep within as you continue to see stars. You can’t make a single sound, fingerprints surely left behind on where you clasp onto his forearm. 

I’ve loved you for so long, and I’ll never be fucking worthy.

When the waves recede, when the high has passed its peak, you both freeze. Your body tensed in his hold, struggling to process what he’d just said. 

Loved you. 

He’s frozen in place, scrambling to figure out how to undo the damage just done. 

I’ve loved you for so long.

He slips out of you, his spent dripping down your thighs. His forearm drops from you. Your hands don’t even try to stop him.

I’ll never be fucking worthy.

You should be worried of neighbors coming out to see the two of you on his balcony. If not worried, you should be embarrassed, or aching at the thought once again. Anything. You should feel something.

You turn slowly to him, entirely numb as you catch his rueful expression.

Loved you. He loved you.

His regret turns to pain as you whisper, “What did you just say?”

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[verinarin]

𝐂𝐨𝐠𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 - 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐟𝐬

angst with comfort | he didn’t come today, you don’t miss him do ?

an. Miss me ?, I hope you do miss me since this is my first full fledged angst I write for Ratio, I hope you guys enjoy ! ヽ(；▽；)

art by @/hsgbisuw on twt

It was a calm day, too calm for your liking. Usually at this precise second Veritas Ratio would knock on your doors with all of his might and glory, how could he not ?. You were doomed to be woven into his research by the looms of fate, yet he’s not here.

He was never late before, likewise he was also never early. Right at 12 o’clock he would knock on your door, yet he isn’t, not today. Why ? you asked yourself. It is unnatural for you to let that man live in your head rent free, yet he broke something constant between you both. zAs much as you hate how better his thesis compares to yours, his gentle scoffs as he oversees your draft, you can’t help but to respect the candid fellow or at least respect his dreams and values.

Missing him however was not on your list, you don’t hold any fondness towards him, just respect. Only respect, or at least that’s what you like to convince yourself of. Yet your actions spoke differently, from staring at your phone, waiting for an explanation for his absence, staring at the clock. Patiently counting how long it has been since his supposed arrival, yet he never came.

The clock strikes at 8 in the evening, it is sufficient to say that he’s not coming, you wanted to text him for a reschedule or to simply ask his whereabouts but you didn’t. Since there’s no need to do so, he has shown his resolve by his actions. Perhaps you bore him so he decided to substitute you for another brilliant mind, no harm no foul, you thought.

As you stood up from your desk to pack your belongings, a twist on your door knob could be heard, that means that the person behind the door must've had important matters to attend to you since they skipped the courtesy to knock on your door, at this hour nonetheless.

Once you turned your gaze towards the door, low and behold Veritas Ratio with all of his flaws full on displayed for you, his usually groomed hair, now damp as well as the rest of his clothes, he looks like a wet dog you thought, “I’m quite late aren’t I ?,” he chuckled as he brushed through his wet hair.

“What brings you here ?, it is well past our usual schedule,” you walked towards him with a concerned look on your face, he let out a small chuckle as he made himself comfortable on your couch.

“Well excuse my late arrival, I had matters to attend to,” he replied vaguely, not wanting to disclose whatever it was he was attending.

“It is best for you to not come at all, it’s already late for us to start our thesis,” you sat beside him as you examined his whole stature, his breathing patterns are erratic, it contradicts his usual calm pattern.

“I’m not here to talk about our little project I’m afraid,” oh that’s new !, you felt a sudden rush through your body, in a way your flight or fight sense has been activated.

“Oh ?, so why the sudden visit ?,” you asked, gazing straight at his face, his sharp features glistening beautifully underneath the moonlight, the sight would leave anyone who gazed upon in breathless, yourself included but he didn’t need to know that of course.

“Do you not miss me ?, or search for me at all ?, are you not concerned with my wellbeing ?,” he asked calmly as he looked towards you, like a deer caught in headlights you freeze.

That was not a reply you were hoping, it was a trap.

Now your mind starts to isolate itself into a total state of seclusion, ignoring the man beside you, riddled with his own inquisitive mind pondering the answers to his question.

Did you miss his companion ? perhaps.

Did you search for him ?,you did ask Aventurine about his whereabouts, but he doesn’t need to know that.

Are you concerned with his well being ?, you might have. Proven by the fact that you had to physically restrain yourself from searching for him.

“No, I do not care about you that much I’m afraid, we’re just colleagues after all,” you lied, for reasons you can’t disclose. He simply scoffs as he folds his arms together; a self pitying laughter could be heard seconds afterward.

“I see, then can you perhaps prove your claims,” he smiles.

His expression, so sincere and true that it scares you to a certain degree. You’re horrified how easily he steps inside your heart. With just a mere smile he could do that, how gruesome.

“Sure, let’s get this over with,” you replied and with that he leaned closer towards your ear, you could hear your own heartbeat, matching his erratic pace. Scary you thought as you sealed your lips shut.

“Are you perhaps familiar with the term Cognitive Dissonance,” his voice lures you, dangerously so to the truth. The truth you weren’t prepared to disclose nor acknowledge.

“Yes, but I don’t see how it connects to whatever it is you want me to prove,” you reply, trying to move on from his argument. As though lost in the middle of the sea, he’s getting close to the shore and you’re not sure if you want him to step on land or to drown.

“You see,” he whispered as his hand tipped your chin forward to meet his eyes, “Your actions contradicts your beliefs, it��s uncomfortable is it, am I getting too close ?, physically or perhaps psychologically ?,” he did it, he really did step foot on uncharted territories.

“Too close, there’s a thin line between us that you’re stepping on Veritas,” you whispered back hoping he would give up on whatever conquest he’s currently embark upon. Yet he dares step closer, leans as close as he could get without scaring you away.

“Is that so ?, would you let me walk to the other side ?,” he asked, his voice as gentle as it could be, in contrast to how stern it used to linger on your ears.

“I-i—” not a single thought could form in your mind, the things he implied. You’re scared to misinterpret the situation, making yourself a fool in front of him.

“Don’t think, feel. Would you let me cross to the other side ?,” he whispers in which it successfully breaks you from your trance.

He reached at your hand, guiding it against his own beating heart as his forehead rested on yours. You could feel his palpitation, his warmth, his sincerity.

You could feel him, not perceive him anymore.

You feel him with all of his sincerity and tenderness.

“Do you miss me ?,” he asked again, patiently waiting for your answer while his lips graze slightly onto yours.

“Yes, I do miss you, Veritas, ”

[bangtanficsforyou]

They Reject You (maknae line)-03

Pairing: maknae line x reader (fuckboi! Jimin x Reader, Co-worker Taehyung x Reader, Idol Jungkook x Reader)

Warnings: swear words here and there.

Word count: 20K (approx)

A/N: long long long asf! (There's author's note at the bottom too).

Park Jimin

Jimin may have been very determined while pledging that he will make things right but right now, he's utterly confused and clueless. 

How exactly does he make things right?

If he were to go by the way movies suggest, he should be sending you chocolates and bouquets of flowers. But the question is, will that do? Will that be enough? Can hurting someone emotionally be fixed by something material?

He doesn't know.

Oh, that's another thing. In recent days, Jimin's mind has been throwing questions at him which he has no answers to. Which, needless to mention, has been frustrating him to no end.

He feels like there's a lot he needs to figure out before taking any action. Because lord knows he doesn't want to mess up again and given his history he has a habit of doing exactly that over and over again. 

The question that has been bugging him the most is; why does he even want to fix things with you? 

It's a question Jimin wholeheartedly avoids thinking about. Because he doesn't have an answer and thinking about this particular question makes him feel a little too uncomfortable.

However, to him, the question also feels like a big empty blank that he needs to fill in order to make sense of what he should do next. Almost as if, if he figures out this one thing, he will have all his answers. 

Which again, doesn't make sense to him. How can figuring out one thing give answers to the rest? But again, he should begin somewhere. Which obviously isn't going to be answering the big question.

Hence he does what he has been doing for the past few days; searching for ways to apologise on YouTube.

It's quite obvious that his YouTube searches haven't been very successful. But in his defence, it isn't Jimin's fault. It's YouTube's.

Almost every video that YouTube suggests as a response to his search, has this implication that the girl being apologised to, is the lover of the person seeking forgiveness.  

Huh? 

But that's so not the case. You're not his lover.

At some point, Jimin got so frustrated that he went on a mini rant to Taehyung, about how this is the 21st century and how a boy and girl need not always have a romantic relationship. And it's while he's ranting via text that he is hit by the brilliant idea of inviting Taehyung over. After all, if there's someone who's better than Jimin when it comes to the ladies, it's Taehyung. 

Half an hour later, Jimin couldn't rush to the door any faster when the bell rang. 

Taehyung greets the troubled boy with a scoff of disbelief. "Never seen you this excited over my arrival, ever."

Jimin is the least bit interested in paying attention to his best friend's teasing. "You gotta help me. It's already been three days and I haven't been able to figure anything out."

"It's about making up to that girl, right?" On receiving a nod from Jimin, Taehyung continues, "What was her name again?"

"Y/N."

"Right, Y/N," Taehyung makes a note to himself, having a hunch it's a name he will hear quite often. "So where exactly are you stuck?" 

Jimin leads his friend to the couch so that Taehyung can have a look at the screen. "Just look at the results. There are literally thousands of responses but not one that's of use. What's the point of having internet if it can't help you when you need?!"

Taehyung snickers. "Yeah, you did go on a half an hour rant about it via text."

Jimin huffs at the way Taehyung seems to not share the same level of frustration as him. But alas, maybe him being in a light mood is a good thing after all. That way Taehyung can think optimally and come up with a solution and then Jimin can finally have a good night's sleep. 

Gosh when Jimin thinks about it, it sends shivers down his spine. He really needs to sleep. 

"Great! You know all about it, so now get on with it," Jimin speaks with a firm nod of determination and turns his body ninety degrees so that he is entirely facing Taehyung. 

And then just keeps staring. 

Taehyung stares back for a second or two and then bursts out laughing. He laughs so hard, that his ears miss the questions Jimin throws his way, querying about the cause of his laughter. He laughs so hard, that he has to place a pillow against his stomach because it has started hurting. He laughs so hard that it takes him a total of five minutes to stop. 

When he does stop laughing, he utters a sentence that sends Jimin into a similar laughter fit. 

"You're so in love."

Or maybe wait. 

Jimin doesn't laugh. 

Jimin blinks at Taehyung blankly and then scoffs in annoyance. Taehyung can't be serious. "I can't believe you're in the mood of making jokes when I'm so stressed."

"Oh, I can assure you, I'm not joking," Taehyung shakes his head with a chuckle, denying Jimin's words. "You're definitely in love."

Jimin pauses. He doesn't like how sure Taehyung seems to be of his words. It makes Jimin realise that Taehyung isn't joking. Taehyung really thinks Jimin is in love. 

Huh. 

"Don't you think I'd know if I was in love?" 

Taehyung snorts. "Clearly not."

Now Jimin's curious. "What makes you so sure of your words?"

"Hmm, let's think for a moment," Taehyung responds, pretending to think deeply for a moment. "You have been worried sick, haven't been behaving like yourself and are throwing tantrums like a five-year-old kid. All because a girl hasn't been talking to you–"

"That could simply mean she's a very good friend to me," Jimin counters even before Taehyung can finish his sentence. 

"Well, you don't kiss your friends while drunk." 

Jimin shuts up at that, not because he agrees with Taehyung's statement but because he needs a moment to figure out what to reply to that. He needs to think of something that is a justifiable reason for why he had kissed you in his drunken state of mind. 

Unfortunately, the best he comes up with is; "I didn't know what I was doing. I was drunk. Plus, me kissing someone shouldn't be news, drunk or not." 

Taehyung nods. "Right, that's your thing. Kissing and sleeping around."

For the first time in his life, Jimin feels an odd sensation in his chest at the mention of his player lifestyle. He can't place why (another thing he can't figure out, yes) but for the first time he wishes these words were not used to describe him. But admittedly, that's who he is. It's only normal to describe him by who he is. 

Jimin keeps quiet as a sign of letting Taehyung know that he can go on. 

"But surprisingly enough, since Y/N has stopped talking to you, you haven't fooled around with anyone," Taehyung squints his eyes, looking like a detective who's trying to solve a complicated riddle. "Wonder why that might be." 

Jimin misses the sarcastic tone completely because he's taken aback by his friend's words. It's only now that he realises that he indeed, has not fooled around with anyone in the last week or so. 

It's true that he has been going to parties and have been getting drunk and have been doing what he usually does. Except for one thing, it seems. Hooking up. 

Oddly enough, the thought of hooking up with someone didn't even occur to him. It's not like he restrained himself or something. It's like he forgot that aspect of his life, entirely. 

What the fuck.

Taehyung silently watches the realisation play out on Jimin's face. It's entertaining, to say the least. His sweet fuckboy of a friend is in love and has zero clue about it. How sweet. 

He only hopes Jimin comes to his senses while this denial is still sweet and not when it's all bitter and sour. But looking at the way Jimin is struggling, one thing is for sure and that is, he isn't going to get his 'happy realisation' just yet. 

"Your bulb will take time to light up," Taehyung interrupts Jimin's thoughts, "Let me just help you with the apologising thing."

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

Jimin has been standing in front of your door for five minutes now. With a huge flower bouquet at that. Because according to Taehyung:

"It's not what you give that matters, it's the thought you put into it. It could be flowers, it could be chocolates–yes I know, at the end of the day they are mere materials. But what's wrong with that?

You've gotta start somewhere. What's important is that you show her that you have realised your mistake, you're sorry and that you'd never do something like that ever again. Sending gifts is not all. It might not earn you her forgiveness but it shows that you're trying and that's something." 

Hence, despite not considering sending gifts as an option at first, here Jimin is, doing exactly that. But then it's not like he could come up with a better idea himself and he thinks Taehyung is right, he should at least start somewhere. 

But he wanted to make it as meaningful as he could. Which is why he did a little research and showed up here himself. He needs to do just one last thing, press the calling bell. 

He sighs and tells himself that there's no point in delaying it, the sooner he does it, the better. Plus, it only means that he will be able to see you after another three-day stretch. 

The thought of seeing you again, does it for him. He presses the bell and with a bated breath, waits for you to open the door. 

Thankfully, he doesn't have to wait long. You swing the door open and Jimin is relieved that your reaction on seeing him is that of surprise and not that of disdain. He would have run in the opposite direction and would have been too ashamed to face you had that been the case. 

Despite not running away, Jimin seems to have lost his capability to talk, for all he does is stare at your face. It gets to the point where you have to be the one to ask him what he's doing at your doorstep. 

Jimin looks away as soon as he snaps out of it and remembers what he's here for. He still doesn't speak and just pushes the bouquet in his hands towards you and urges you to take it. 

It's not like you hadn't noticed the bouquet, it's unmissable really. It's this big, gorgeous arrangement of pink roses and the lighting of the hallway falls on the flowers in a way that makes it look like a portrait. When Jimin tries handing over the bouquet to you, you're once again taken by surprise and out of instinct you take hold of the bouquet without a second thought. 

The moment Jimin knows that you have the bouquet, he takes a few steps back, bows to you and takes off. 

Well, guess he did run away, after all. 

You don't even get the time to question him as to why the sudden flowers as you stand there for a moment until you're sure that Jimin isn't coming back. With a confused sigh, you head back into your apartment. 

"I should put them in water," you mumble to yourself and rest the bouquet on your centre table. 

However, it's at this very moment that your eyes land on a piece of paper that seems to have been folded with great care and has been kept in such a way that it isn't visible from the front but only from the top. 

With a small frown of curiosity, you take the paper out with your fingers. On unfolding, you find a small printed note on the left side and a handwritten note on the right. 

The left side of the note read: "Pink roses signify gratitude, admiration and appreciation." 

The right side of the note read: "You're not the stupid one, I am."

There's a brief moment where you are clueless and you have to think as to what Jimin could possibly mean. However, it doesn't take long for you to figure it out as you're hit with the memory of letting Jimin know how he has made you feel for a very, very long time. 

One particular line sticks out and you have a hunch that his note refers to that.

"I felt so stupid to be hanging out with you when you couldn’t even pause and give me the minimum respect I deserve.”

Huh. 

Is...Is Jimin apologising? 

No way. 

After that day you had thought Jimin would either just stop talking to you or would just show up a few days later as if nothing ever happened. Never had you considered that he would choose to apologise. But apparently, that's exactly what he has decided on. 

Wow. This is way more surprising than the sun rising in the west. 

You do not doubt that he must have taken the help of some of his friends but that's only fair. You can imagine how hard it must be for someone like Jimin to apologise to someone. 

You shake your head in amusement and bring a vase filled with water to place the flowers in. 

Honestly, you hadn't thought much about Jimin since that day. The way you felt lighter after saying what you had wanted to for a long time, was incredibly freeing. You were also proud of yourself for finally standing up and for sticking to your decision to cut him off. It made you wish you had done it sooner. 

But now that Jimin is apologising, in his own way, you are a tad bit surprised that it doesn't throw you into a mental debate. That you don't have to battle yourself on what to do. 

Things are pretty clear in your head. 

You forgive Jimin. 

You had forgiven him long before he even sent you the flowers. With your bottled-up emotions out of the way, it gave you the clarity you needed to see things for how they were. 

You had always had a weak spot for Jimin. Jimin, not so much. You were just another girl to him. But the thing with having weak spots is that they make you vulnerable. 

But Jimin is Jimin. He has no clue about these kind of things. Does he? For you, to expect Jimin to understand the sensitivity of the matter, was basically setting yourself up for disappointment from the get-go. 

It's the same as looking for a mango in a banyan tree. It's fruitless. 

That does not mean, that you blame yourself. When emotions that are beyond your control, get involved, the practical mind is forced to take a back seat. Romantic affection is for sure one such feeling where one tends to lose their thinking and decision-making capabilities. 

You forgive Jimin. You also forgive yourself. 

Does that mean you'd be okay with being friends with Jimin, again? No, you cannot bring yourself to do that. 

The trust and faith you had put in him has been broken and that's enough of a reason for you to move on. 

So what is Jimin to you, now? 

Someone you still have a weak spot for because it's not like you wake up one day and suddenly all your feelings you harboured for a person disappears. But you know you want to move on. You know you do not wish to go back to sharing the same dynamic with Jimin ever again. 

And this time your decision does not come from a place of hurt, anger or frustration. This time it comes from a place of clarity and acceptance, which is also why it doesn't seem difficult to follow through with your choice. 

Nevertheless, you do appreciate Jimin giving you flowers. Although, you think there was no need for it. 

For a brief moment, you contemplate if you should be texting a thank you to him but then decide otherwise when you remember that you have blocked him. Even if it's for the short span of two minutes to send a text, you don't think you're ready to unblock him just yet. 

For the time being you simply settle for putting the vase at the top of one of your drawers and taking good care of them. 

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

The next day it was a bouquet of white flowers with a note that read: 

I'm sorry; on the left and I know flowers won't earn me your forgiveness but I'm trying; on the right.

It once again was Jimin at your doorstep and once again, before you could say anything, he had decided his job was done as soon as the flowers were in your hands. 

You were too flabbergasted as you had thought that the whole giving you flowers thing was only a one-time thing. You didn't think Jimin would show up for a second time, just the day after, to give you another massive bouquet. 

Maybe you should have seen the same thing happening on the third day but somehow you didn't and were just as surprised, if not more, when Jimin showed up with another bouquet on the third day. 

Before you could say anything, Jimin was gone. 

Which is exactly why you now find yourself unblocking his contact. 

You: hey

You: just letting you know I appreciate the flowers but you do not need to send them anymore 

You: I forgive you

Jimin is on the phone with Taehyung getting an earful about his cowardness and running, when he receives your text.

"I'm telling you, this flower thing is not going to work. She hasn't even tried to talk to me" 

"From what I have heard you are the one who has never allowed her to even open her mouth and–"

"Hold on, someone texted me," Jimin interrupts Taehyung solely to avoid getting called out for the umpteenth time. However, his eyes almost fall out of his sockets when he sees that it's you. "Tae, Y/N texted me!"

Taehyung, too, is surprised to hear this. "What did she say?"

Jimin takes a deep breath, his nostrils flaring as he fills his lungs up with as much air as possible. "Right, I will open her messages." 

When he does read the words you have sent him, he is even more surprised. But even more so, he is relieved. Gosh, he feels like he could cry tears of joy. 

"She forgave me," Jimin speaks in a tone that is a little too loud for Taehyung's ears. 

However, Taehyung doesn't protest as his friend's words seem more important at the moment. "Are you serious? She did? What did she say?"

"She said that she appreciates the flowers and that I need not send them to her anymore and that she forgives me." 

Taehyung pauses for a moment and then grins brightly, the relieved and excited tone of his friend making him feel happy. "Then what are you doing fucker? Text her back, you idiot."

Jimin nods but then responds verbally when he remembers that Taehyung is over the phone and not with him in his room. "I'll text her back."

Saying so, he ends the call with Taehyung and starts typing. 

Jimin: Thank you

Wait. 

Thank you?

Should he say thank you? Is that the right response? But is sending a simple thank you good enough? 

He doesn't think so. 

Quickly deleting the typed words, he begins to think of a better response. 

If not thank you, then what? How about 'How have you been?' No, no, no. That sounds way too casual. 

He should send something that appears to be cool and that doesn't make things awkward. At the same time, he should text something that leaves room for a conversation. A proper one. 

Geez, texting is difficult. 

What if he tries teasing you like he did before everything happened? No, that would make it look like he never took the matter seriously. 

Should he...should he just be uncool and be honest for once? 

Should he just let you know that he feels like a bag of stones has been lifted off his chest and that he can breathe again? That he feels like he can think properly, again? 

That might be too much. 

But maybe he can just try letting you know that he's incredibly grateful for your forgiveness without sounding cheesy? Yeah, he can definitely do that. 

Jimin: Thank you.

Jimin: that word isn't enough but that's the best I have got 

Jimin: I am incredibly grateful and I promise I won't make you regret your choice. 

When you read his texts a few minutes later, you're rather surprised. Is Jimin saying these things? There's no way. 

But then you come to a conclusion that, there indeed is no way. Jimin must have made a friend of his type out these words. Now, that makes a whole lot of sense. 

You chuckle at the thought and react to his messages with a thumbs up and leave it at that. 

The moment Jimin sees you reacting to his messages, he types out another message, one that he has delicately crafted in his mind. Something light that hopefully will lead to a proper conversation.

Jimin: How have you been? 

Your phone pings and you notice Jimin's text. Something uncomfortable churns in your stomach at his words. Jimin most likely thinks things are back to normal and that you two will once again bicker and joke around in no time.

Guess, you need to break it to him. 

You: I've been fine 

You: but I would rather have us not go back to the way we were 

Jimin is already in the middle of forming another text that conveys that things won't be the same and that he'd do better but his heart literally breaks into pieces when he reads the next text. 

You: I don't think we should be in contact anymore 

You: it's a proven fact it doesn't do either of us any good 😂

You: especially me.

—--------------------------------------------------------

Jimin has decided to watch a movie. Not just any movie, the fault in our stars. Because he needs something to make him feel sad. Correction; he needs something that he is consciously aware of, to make him feel sad. 

It's much much more annoying when you get sad and heartbroken over something and yet you cannot explain why you feel that way. Imagine suddenly getting stabbed by invisible knives that you can't see but can only feel. Yeah, it feels the same. 

But who cares anyway? Jimin is watching a movie that will make him plenty sad and unlike you, it won't have him feeling like someone who hasn't been in touch with his emotions for ages. 

Taehyung munches on his popcorn slowly, his focus periodically shifting between Jimin and the TV screen. 

Taehyung knew something was up the moment Jimin texted him asking if he would like to watch The Fault in Our Stars. For the people who don't know, Jimin does not watch sad movies, like ever. Because irrespective of how much of a fuckboy he is, he is a huge softie on the inside (which is actually very cliche of him). But as his fuckboy-ness would have it, he absolutely hates crying. 

Taehyung does not believe that Jimin does not cry or that he tries to keep his tears at bay. Because from the few times that he has seen his friend crying, he knows that he isn't someone who's good at holding his tears back. So no, Jimin does cry and when he does, he cries like a baby. However, what Jimin ensures is that he does not cry in front of anyone.

But here's Jimin, crying in front of Taehyung. 

This boy is going to give me a headache, Taehyung thinks with a deep inhale as he once again shifts his focus from Jimin to the screen.

It must have been another fifteen minutes or so when he hears a small sniffle coming from his left. Huh, things haven't even turned that sad in the movie yet. 

Taehyung looks at his friend only to realise his suspicions are right when he notices his friend subtly wiping under his eyes. 

Taehyung takes hold of the remote and switches the TV off. 

He has had enough. 

Jimin looks at Taehyung with perplexed features but before he can ask a question, Taehyung is getting up from his seat to turn the lights on. 

This makes Jimin quickly grab a few tissues and wipe at the corner of his eyes. 

Taehyung rolls his eyes in annoyance. "Sometimes I can't tell if you're a drama queen or a little kid." 

Jimin looks at Taehyung with a clueless expression. As long as he pretends he has no clue what Taehyung is talking about, it should be good. 

Taehyung simply scoffs and shakes his head in defeat. "Do you want to talk about it or should I just leave?" 

This has Jimin facing away from Taehyung and he scowls at the centre table. "I have nothing to talk about."

"Cool then, I have some important work to do, I'll get going." 

"Sure do that. Leave me. Everyone does, why shouldn't you?"

Ah. Drama queen, it is. 

"So what Y/N left? Like did she leave you on seen or something? Is that why you're so sad and upset?" Taehyung guesses the possible cause of Jimin's state from his words. 

Jimin wishes it was that simple. He honestly would give anything for Taehyung's words to be right, for that being the cause of his sadness. But if only.

Taehyung deduces that things might not be that simple when Jimin does not give a verbal answer and appears to become more sulky. 

Taehyung makes his way to the couch and claims his previous seat next to Jimin. "What will you take to just tell me what went wrong? I know you're dying to let it out."

Jimin looks at his friend for a moment then suddenly reaches out to grab his phone from the table. He opens your texts and just places his phone in Taehyung's hands. 

With a small concentrated frown, he takes a look at the screen and goes through the chats. 

"So this is what has gotten you like this," he mumbles to himself.  "Have you tried talking to her and telling her that you won't be repeating the same things again?" 

Jimin shakes his head. "She never gave me the chance to do so."

Taehyung hums, deep in thought. "What do you want to do now?" 

"I don't think it matters."

"It does. Now tell me what do you want?"

Jimin looks up at the ceiling with blurry eyes. "I think I want us to go back to the way we were."

Taehyung, although wanting to, does not show the disbelief he feels at Jimin's words. He keeps his composure calm so that Jimin does not feel uncomfortable. "What you're saying is you want to go back to the way you would annoy her and she would put up with it?"

Jimin's spirit lifts just a little bit when he remembers how things were before and he finds himself absentmindedly nodding. 

"Which would also mean going back to the way you would keep sleeping around with people and then at the same time would make flirty comments towards Y/N?" 

The tiny little corner of his mouth that had lifted, once again turns into a scowl as Taehyung's words register in his brain. It's as if he's knocked into his senses. 

Noticing that Taehyung has successfully managed to grab Jimin's attention, he hopes he can only make Jimin see his point. "Honestly, Jimin have you ever realised where you went wrong? Or did you apologise to her solely because you thought that was what she wanted and that would have her back in your life?" 

Questions. Another set of questions. Jimin could honestly scream. But something about Taehyung's gaze makes him unable to run away from the queries like he has been doing all this time.

He considers Taehyung's words for a moment and then mumbles in a small voice, "I don't know."

Taehyung hums, having guessed that answer. 

"I just wanted to apologise to her because I know I have hurt her," Jimin keeps his tone soft and vulnerable. "I may not know all the ways in which I have hurt her but I know I should have respected her wishes and should have stopped flirting with her when she had asked."

"I may not know exactly how or why it affected her but I know it led her to be angry–" Jimin breaks off suddenly when a thought occurs to him and soon he looks even more ashamed, "–and they say all anger stems from hidden pain. If that's true then I must have caused her pain."

Taehyung releases a breath he didn't know he was holding. He wonders how his friend can be both stupid and smart at the same time and why exactly does his brain start working when the damage has already been done. 

"So you realise that you have caused her some sort of pain?" 

"I must have," Jimin agrees. 

"Have you then tried figuring out what exactly she means to you?" 

Jimin's tears have dried, thanks to the ongoing conversation that has distracted him enough to have the wheels of his brain running again.  

"She's someone I care about a lot and someone I want in my life." 

"As a friend?" Taehyung pushes. 

Jimin nods. 

Taehyung hums, "I think you really need to sit with yourself and think things through." 

—-------------------------------------------------------

Jimin is dumb and Taehyung is loyal.

Which is why the latter finds himself in the middle of a party, waiting for you to arrive. 

A week of Jimin moping and being a sullen child, had Taehyung take matters into his own hands. Jimin could not possibly figure things out by himself even if everyone around him could. Taehyung only hopes he will admit what has been brewing for a long time, when his feelings smack him right across the face. 

Taehyung leans against the bar counter, his eyes hardly moving from the entrance as he waits for you to walk through the door. 

It takes about another fifteen minutes of his eyes locked on the door, for you to finally emerge. 

Taehyung relaxes a breath. He had to do a lot of digging to find a common friend and for him to convince that common friend to somehow convince you to come to the party. He wasn't sure if all of this would work, but now that you're here, success is a step closer. 

He gives you five minutes to say your hi's and hello's and then, he's making his way to you. 

"And you must be Y/N?" 

You look at the guy who seems to know you by your name and frown when you don't recall ever having interacted with him. "And you must be?"

"Taehyung. Kim Taehyung."

Your brain clicks in realisation. Taehyung, a name you have heard Jimin mention many times. However, this is the first time that you get to put a face to the said name. 

"I have heard of you," you nod as a feeling of reluctance takes over you. Why is Taehyung approaching you? 

He smiles. "I'm not surprised by that."

You return his smile awkwardly and wonder what you should be saying next. "How do you know me?" 

"Let's just say I have heard of you as well," his smile turns into a full-blown grin as if he's enjoying this. 

"From Jimin?" 

"Ah yes. We both have an idiot named Jimin in our lives."

You feel your traitor heart get curious at the confirmation. Taehyung knows of you from Jimin? Jimin talked about you to his friends? The thought of that catches you with surprise as you never thought you were ever important enough to him, for him to do that. You thought you were just another girl who fell for him. However, your curiosity is soon overtaken by the thought of him making light and fun of your feelings.

"That idiot, however, speaks highly of you, which is why I just could not miss the opportunity to speak to you," Taehyung quips, sensing the thoughts inside your head. 

You look at Taehyung, wondering what to make of his words. You just find it difficult to believe that Jimin speaks highly of you. One speaks highly of the people they respect and well—no, you don't want your mind to wander there.

"So you're here speaking to me, to verify the things Jimin has said about me?" You keep your tone light, playful and teasing, so as to not come off as rude. While, on the inside, you're really confused as fuck as to what to make out of this. Does Taehyung not know of the recent changes in the dynamics between you and Jimin? 

"Oh no, absolutely not," he shakes his head. "I do not doubt a thing Jimin has said about you. I'm only here out of sheer curiosity and with the intent to get to know you better."

And some ulterior purposes. That part he leaves unspoken. 

You observe him for a moment and relax a little when you realise that he seems genuine. You don't know, why he's here and what he wants from you, but you decide talking to him won't be of any harm.

—---------------------------------------------------------

Jimin is grumpy as fuck when he walks in and is greeted by the loud music that blasts through the speakers. Goodness, why did he enjoy partying, again? 

He really wouldn't be here had it not been for Taehyung's constant nagging that he had something important to say, and that couldn't be done unless he attended the party. 

Technically, his words made zero sense. Taehyung couldn't just say whatever important thing he had to say, over the phone? Apparently, according to him, he couldn't. 

He prays to whatever god is out there, for the sake of Taehyung that he finds him soon. 

The universe, however, has other plans. 

Jimjn spots you before he spots Taehyung. He sees you smiling wide and even in the dimmed lights, he can see the way your eyes shine with amusement and joy. As selfish as it is, Jimin feels any amount of hope he might have had, leave at the sight. You're clearly doing fine without him. A part of him wishes you weren't. 

It feels eerily similar to the time when he had spotted you on his way to class. 

But then he realises you are with a guy. A strange emotion fills him, one that he believes he hasn't felt before, ever. He realises he's jealous. He's so jealous of the lucky bastard who's getting to make you laugh and with whom you seem so comfortable with. With that jealousy, comes a huge wave of insecurity. The guy doesn't seem to have messed up like Jimin did. He doesn't seem to be someone you feel the need to cut off your life. All of which Jimin has done and is. 

However, when the light falls on the face of the said guy, Jimin is hit with a sense of anger and confirmation that the said guy is much, much better than Jimin is. 

Taehyung is smart, has a good sense of humour and surely knows more when it comes to matters of the heart. Whereas, Jimin has only been confused and no matter how hard he has tried, he has been unsuccessful in clearing up the cloud of confusion. 

For a brief moment, he is taken back to the words Taehyung had said to him–you're so in love–which Jimin had found utterly ridiculous at the time. However, now that he finds himself in the hold of jealousy and a brewing insecurity that only you hold the power to put a stop to, he doesn't find the idea as absurd. 

He's never been in love before. But somehow he is still hit with the realisation that all his desperation, anger, jealousy and insecurities stem from one thing and one thing only. His love for you. 

He is hit with more and more clarity with each passing moment as he stares at you. An overwhelming urge to make you his, washes over him and with strong, determined steps, he walks in the direction where you chat with Taehyung. 

The moment the two of you realise Jimin's presence, your smile falters whereas Taehyung's widens.

"Jimin," you whisper, caught completely off guard. 

"Y/N," he greets you back. "I wasn't expecting to see you here."

"Me neither," you mumble in a small voice. 

"How have you been?" 

Neither of you miss the fact that this was the very same question he had asked via text, to which you had made it clear that things would never be the same, instead of actually answering him. 

However, now that you both stand in front of each other, you think it would be incredibly rude to not answer him. "I'm fine." 

Your short answer leaves no further room for conversation and it's only when you realise that Jimin refuses to avert his eyes from you, that you ask him back the same question. 

"I've been anything but fine," Jimin answers, without missing a beat. 

His answer is similar to yours in terms of being short and vague. However, his response means exactly the opposite of yours. 

You stifle the question that's on the tip of your tongue and push away the overgrowing concern at his answer. This is exactly why you had chosen to end whatever friendship you two had over text. You were unsure of the feelings Jimin would stir within you. Sure, you have made the choice of moving on from him but there was no denying that you haven't moved on yet. 

You nod and think it would be best to include Taehyung in the conversation. He would surely know how to break the tension. However, you realise at the same time as Jimin does that Taehyung has disappeared into thin air. 

Taehyung's gone, you think with surprise and disbelief, having no clue when he left. 

Taehyung's gone, Jimin thinks, beaming with glee and satisfaction. 

"Do you want a drink?" Jimin asks, having no intention of leaving. 

"I could actually do with some alcohol," you mumble mainly to yourself, but somehow despite the loud music, Jimin manages to hear you. The very next moment he has two drinks in his hands and gracefully offers you one.

"I have a few things to say," he says after a few sips.

Oh god. Please be kind to my heart. You stay quiet. You were not prepared to face Jimin. After texting him that day, you had honestly thought that was it. It was hard for you to send him those words. So incredibly hard. But you knew it was for the best.  

A part of you had wished for Jimin to regret losing you. But you knew that thought to be impractical. You knew in reality, Jimin must have slipped into someone's bed instead of giving you a second thought. You had honestly thought Jimin's attempt at apologising with flowers was merely a result of his hurt to the ego. Nevertheless, you appreciate his effort and know better than to have any further expectations from the man. 

However, this is incredibly confusing. More so, because the Jimin who was sending you those flowers would run away right after he knew that the flowers had reached their destination. However, this Jimin, stands in front of you with eyes locked with yours, refusing to back down. 

"I had sent those flowers to you, because I knew I had to apologise. I knew I messed up. I knew I hurt you. Don't get me wrong, the knowledge that I had hurt you was enough of a slap on my face, but I didn't know what it felt like for you," he takes a pause, "but now I do."

Jimin is aware that comparing what he has put you through with what he felt for merely a few minutes after seeing you with Taehyung, is completely unfair. However, it'd be fair to say he has got a taste of his own medicine and he fucking hates himself to have you put through that, over and over again. 

"I know now, because–," he takes a deep breath, afraid you won't believe him, "–I have come to the realisation that I'm in love with you."

Your pupils dilate in shock and after a brief moment, your expressions morph into that of disbelief, much like Jimin had expected. 

"I don't expect you to believe it. I know I haven't done much to earn your trust. All I ask is for you to give me a chance to prove myself."

You're too shocked to make coherent thoughts. As a matter of fact, the severity of Jimin's words doesn't click in your brain. How can it, when you have seen it for yourself how appalled Jimin feels at the thought of commitment? How can you digest the thought of Jimin saying these words, that too, to you? 

"What do you want, Jimin?" You ask wanting the interaction to be cut short, afraid that the longer you stay in his presence the more you will find yourself inclined to believe his words. 

"Let me take you out on a date." 

Kim Taehyung

I'm in a relationship.

You absent-mindedly stare at the words on your screen as you feel the mix of emotions resurface yet again. 

Taehyung is in a relationship. The Taehyung you love so dearly, is in a relationship. And if you are to go with his status updates, he's quite happy about it as well. 

How do you feel about it, exactly? 

You feel betrayed, hurt, confused, angry, perplexed, sad, annoyed, embarrassed, lonely, frustrated, upset. These emotions are only a few to name. There's so much you think and believe, you still haven't figured out yet. Anytime, you try to focus on your emotions in hopes that you will be able to let it all out, all you come up with is an empty feeling. 

That's another thing. You haven't cried at all. But you want to. You want to just let all of it hit you at once and get it off your chest. Because the heavy uncomfortable feeling that often stirs your heart is not something you wish to deal with for long. 

Sometimes your mind comes up with all the little things and moments that had made Taehyung so special to you and you find yourself this close to breaking into uncontrollable sobs. But then it just never happens. It's like someone is pressing the accelerator and the brake at the same time and you're just there, frozen in time, not knowing what to do. 

You doubt if you have even fully grasped the concept of Taehyung being in a relationship. The thought that he's in one and you got to learn about it only after he committed, that too through a WhatsApp status, is completely unbelievable to you for some reason. No matter how much you try, a part of you doesn't want to believe it.

It's a whole set of emotions you never thought Taehyung would make you feel. He was your feel-good person, one of your best friends and someone you trusted with your entire heart. It's something you don't even know as to how to react to. 

"Y/N!"

You blink back to reality when someone shakes you by your shoulders. "Huh?" 

"You zoned out again."

"Oh," you speak in a tone of realisation, "I'm sorry–"

"Nothing to apologise for. Just forget whoever that guy is. He's surely not treating you right if you have this conflicted look on your face all the time."

If only it were that easy. You wish it was that easy. 

You chuckle at your next desk co-worker, Shanaya's, words. "I will surely contemplate on your words." 

"Men don't deserve shit from us if they treat us like shit," she nods seriously. "And with the way, you have had this sad-confused look in your eyes for a whole week now, I strongly doubt that man is any good for you."

Oh yeah, it's been a week.

Although, you could have been fooled by how the admittance of his relationship remains the last text exchanged between the two of you. You just didn't know how to respond to him at that time. You were too busy absorbing the shock to think of a proper response. 

You had just shut your net off and tried your hardest to fall asleep. But you just couldn't get a blink of sleep and since then you also couldn't bring yourself to pretend to be fine with him, when you were far from it.

Maybe you had posted your status a little too frequently to subtly let him know that you're online and well-active on your socials but are simply choosing to not talk to him. On the other side of the coin, is the fact that you feel disheartened that he hasn't made any effort to talk to you. It's the longest the both of you have gone without talking to each other. 

A hand waves in front of your face gaining your attention as your co-worker looks at you knowingly. 

"See! Not good for you."

You smile at her words and shake your head softly, amused by her straightforward and direct nature. 

—-----------

"How are you?"

You roll your eyes before replying. "I'm fine, I'm fine."

"Hmm," your best friend hums. "On a scale of 1 to 10?"

"Idk man, 7?"

"That's an improvement," she speaks to herself. "Now tell me, have you blocked Taehyung, yet?"

"I won't do that," you reply softly with a tone of surety. 

She sighs over the phone. "Babe, he's a dick. Why haven't you cut him off yet, is beyond me."

Your best friend is of the kind whom if you call crying, she'd ask you to first get rid of the person who's responsible for your tears and then she will allow you to tell her what went down for you to cry. If only she were in the same city as you, she'd have committed the crimes herself instead of having to beg you to do them. 

She's protective of you, incredibly so. 

When you had told her everything about Taehyung, she had muttered to herself something along the lines of how she knew he was gonna turn out to be a dickhead. You never queried her on that because in a way you knew what she meant. 

On learning about the situation you and Taehyung were in and about his unwillingness to be in a relationship, she was very firm about making her point that Taehyung was only making excuses. She was adamant that a person who really loves you wouldn't come up with reasons as to why they shouldn't be together. At the time, you had acknowledged what she was trying to say but you added that sometimes people get scared and fear often turns out to be an emotion that is rather difficult to overcome.

With much reassurance from your side that Taehyung was a great guy, she had let go of the topic. However, to say that Taehyung has now earned the entirety of your best friend's hatred, would be an understatement. You'd have been really concerned about his safety had she been in the city. 

"He–", you pause briefly, "–isn't a bad guy." 

Your friend scoffs. "Right. He's the worst."

"He is nice," you say a little more firmly. 

"Oh! Yes please, someone please give him a Nobel prize for his niceness!"

To your surprise the tone in which she speaks, makes you burst out laughing. "You really hate him, don't you?"

"Has he ever given me a reason to NOT despise him?" 

You chuckle as your laughter dies off. "Well, I don't blame you. I'd hate the guy as well if I was in your place."

"Hah! So you agree on something with me."

"But," you emphasise on the word, "he's not a bad guy. I don't know how everything turned out to be this way but trust me he has a very tender heart."

"I cannot believe you're making excuses for him, Y/N." 

Her surprisingly soft tone serves as a reminder that your best friend is probably one of the most compassionate and understanding people you've ever met. The only time you've seen her behave like an angry child who's ready to throw some punches, is when you get hurt. 

And admittedly, you're the same way when it comes to her.

"I'm not making excuses for him, I know him. He'd never intentionally hurt someone."

"But he did hurt you!!!"

"I know and I doubt he realises it," you sigh. "But I need to know his side of things."

"I'm sure he will run if you try to confront him," she grumbles. "He'll probably not even reply if you tell him how much of a dick he's been."

"Heyyy," a childish whine escapes your lips. "I have more faith in him than that. He respects me enough to talk things out."

She makes a sound of complete disbelief, "You bet my ass he would just pull stuff out of his ass."

"We will see," you chuckle.

You had to make up your mind sooner or later and somehow the conversation with your best friend has reminded you of the faith you have in Taehyung. If you need answers, you're sure he'd give them. Most importantly, you don't plan on losing the friendship you have with him this easily. But you don't think you'd be able to just push everything aside and pretend that things are fine. You need to clear it out. You need for him to realise that he has hurt you and you need to know how things changed so quickly. 

—————————————————————

You: hey 

It took you another day to get the simple three-letter word out of your system. But you do it the very first thing in the morning after waking up. Whatever roller coaster ride of emotion it is going to take you on, you want it over by today. 

Thankfully, it takes only ten minutes for your phone to ping to notify you of a message from Taehyung. 

Tae 🐻: hello, birdie 👋

A snort escapes you when you imagine all the lovely cuss words that would leave your best friend's mouth if she were to learn of his response to your 'hey'.  

You, too, find yourself being amused yet disappointed at how oblivious he seems to be. 

You: I'm sorry for not responding to your texts any sooner

Chewing on your lower lip, you click on the send button. While this text is meant to serve as an apology, it also serves as a means for you to know whether he really is as clueless as he seems. You're curious if he's at least aware that something must have been wrong for you to not text for this long.

Tae 🐻: It's okay, don't worry. I understand!

Tae 🐻: work can get busy 

Tae 🐻: it's fine! 

Sighing, you realise it's fruitless. You need to be upfront as there's no other way for you to go about it. 

You: uhmm thanks 

You: but before we catch up and all that, can I just get a few things off my chest?

Tae 🐻: sure! Go ahead. 

Suddenly you find yourself feeling anxious. You are not quite sure how this is going to turn out and how you're going to put your emotions into words. It sure appears to be a difficult job considering how muddled your brain feels every time you think about the events that have led to this.

You:  i don't really know how to say what i want to say lol

You: this is so awkward

Tae 🐻: just say it

Tae 🐻: it's the same ol' me after all

Some of your anxiety softens at his words. 

You: i know but i just dk how to say it 😂

Tae 🐻: that's okay

Tae 🐻: would it be more comfortable for you if I were to go offline? and I can check your messages when you give me the green signal to open your texts? 

Now that he mentions it, you think that would be lovely. That way you could take your time figuring out how to word your sentences without having the rush of typing things out fast over the worry of him coming to assumptions before you say the full thing. 

You: that'd be great! 

You: thank you! 

Tae 🐻: well then, I'll go offline. You speak your heart out 😌

You: open my texts only when you see a thumbs up or a message that directly asks you to open it. Okay?

Tae 🐻: done 👍

Sighing, you relax on your sofa and think. Now that he's offline, you need to figure out what to say. Rather, where to start because you just have so much to say. 

It takes you another two or three minutes before you start typing. 

You: so idk how this is gonna sound or how it's gonna get interpreted but I really need this out of my chest for it's been bothering me the last few days. 

You: so ummm, you know we both had openly admitted to having feelings for each other and then you told me you weren't really ready for a relationship? And I agreed to things being the way they were because I never wanted to pressurise you. I always wanted to be a friend first, whom you can trust and feel safe with, more than anything else. 

You: it's true that we never had a name for what we were. But it's because of that very reason that it always remained very confusing to me as to where we stood. Especially where you stood. 

You: i always could have asked in the course of the year as to where we stood but i always let you be because i was cautious that asking you, would in a way, pressurise you. 

You: however, that is not to say that i wasn't put in a dilemma when i would get propositions for going out on dates or when someone would ask me out. 

You: i didn't know where your feelings for me lied. While I avoided any assumptions, i also didn't act as if you did not have feelings for me. Because what if you did and then my actions hurt you? I knew how much you have been hurt in the past and i just didn't want to add to that. 

Your fingers pause as you take a look at what you have covered so far. When you go through your last two texts, you go awry at the thought of sounding like someone who's claiming to have done him some huge favour. 

You: I'm not saying all this to say that i have done you a huge favour or something by the way. Or that you owe me something in return. 

You: I'm just saying this because when you're so cautious and thoughtful over someone, it hurts to be on the receiving end of actions that make you feel incredibly stupid. 

You: it would have been better if you had told me, you know? That "hey, there's this girl i like," and I'm not saying in a way that you had to take my permission or something but just that it would have been nice to know that you thought of me and of what kind of an effect it would have on me. 

You: I just wish I didn't have to learn from a WhatsApp status 

You pause before thinking if you have missed anything. When you go through your words, you realise that you indeed have missed something important. 

You see, in the mix of all the heavy emotions, you also are happy. You're happy for him. That's something you realised the very day you learned about his relationship. It's odd but even in the midst of all the confusion you were feeling, a part of you felt glad.

You were glad that he found someone he loves and someone who makes him happy. You also found yourself excited on his behalf. 

You won't lie, you were surprised that you weren't jealous. Before Taehyung, for a long time, you had hardly had any guy in your life except for fleeting crushes. Even then, you can acknowledge the fact that jealousy is a very natural emotion to feel in this scenario. However, when you realised that you were happy for him and that happiness did not originate from a place where you had to force it, you were also proud. 

To you, there's no greater testimony of your love than that. 

You: i don't think i have mentioned this before but I'm really happy and excited for you.

You: go ahead and open your texts ig 😂

There are questions in your mind that you think would have been better had you asked them. Questions as to how he was unwilling to be in a relationship when it came to you but suddenly found himself being in a relationship a year later? 

However, you decide that's something you'd rather not ask. 

When you think of it, you indeed find it unfair and there's perhaps that hint of anger that bubbles in your stomach. But you recognise that there's no purpose in asking that question. 

It's possible that his feelings for her run deeper than they ever did for you. Or it could be the fact that they work together and it's human that you'd grow close to someone who's there with you physically rather than someone whom you only talk to over the phone or via texts. 

But figuring out the why is none of your business. Neither is it something you're concerned with. Whatever the reason might be, he's in a relationship and he has already made a choice. The why is irrelevant now. 

Another reason, the why is irrelevant to you is because, you have never found yourself thinking along the lines of what you could have done differently for him to stay and choose you. You have never wondered if it was something you lacked. You'd never let yourself think that way for anyone. Once upon a time, you did. You were filled with insecurities and would question yourself anytime someone would hurt you or leave you. But you have overcome that and have learnt to love yourself. You'd never undo all that progress by entertaining those thoughts ever again. Even if it's Taehyung. 

Three little dots appear at the bottom of the screen letting you know Taehyung is typing. His text soon arrives making your breath hitch. 

Tae 🐻: I have read your texts. Give me some time, and I'll reply to them. 

So you'll have to wait. 

It's fair you think, he can take the time he needs, to figure out what he has to say. 

You only hope you can get over this soon. 

—--------------------------------------------------------

It's been an entire day since Taehyung said he'd reply to your texts but unfortunately, he hasn't yet. 

You know he will reply, you have that faith in him but you only wish he'd do it sooner. There's that lingering anxiety that comes with being unable to predict what he's going to say. 

You have also been wondering if you have worded your words correctly. You found yourself worrying what if you came across as jealous and as someone who's unhappy for him? You really hope you didn't sound bitter because you aren't. 

Yes, there's a part of you that is sad because the moments that you thought were special for the both of you, were all in your head. Because you loved him.

There's also this feeling that now you have been replaced. That now, things won't ever be the same. Perhaps, a part of you wishes you could stay in your head a little longer and pretend. 

But all of that aside, you also have immense amounts of trust in the friendship you both share. Taehyung is someone who is incredibly kind and loving, and he's a great friend in general and you're sure that both of you would somehow manage to keep your friendship intact.

Penny: Has he replied yet? 

You look down at the screen to find a text from your best friend.

You: no 

You: not yet 

Penny: huh told you

Penny: he's a dick 

You smile and shake your head.

Knowing you have a long day ahead, you cook yourself a plate full of breakfast and get ready for work. In a way, you're glad that there's work to keep you busy. You do not know what you'd have done had it been a Sunday. You'd probably have been restless as fuck and would have been checking your phone every five minutes.

Thanks to your workload, you only get time to check your phone during lunch. However, the workload doesn't help with the disappointment you feel, when each time that you do check your phone and find that there's no new message from Taehyung. The disappointment only increases when you realise he has put a status about some funny fact regarding hyenas. 

Whatever he sends you as a response to your texts, it better be good to have you kept waiting this long. 

—--------------------------------------------------------

It's nine in the evening and you're at home when you finally receive Taehyung's text. Your anxiousness is overpowered by curiosity and impatience as you click on his message. It's a wordy and lengthy one. 

Tae 🐻: I was confused, Y/N. Very confused. Although I had confessed my feelings to you, I was extremely confused and scared to take a step forward. When things with Kira ended, I was lonely and sad and my thoughts were very self-destructive. I had zero self-confidence. Talking to you, spending time with you, and texting you gave me the greatest joy and it acted as an escape from those thoughts, feelings and difficulties I was facing at the time. However, if you ask me now, where my feelings originated from, I wouldn't be able to tell. Were they genuine or a result of my love-starved state, I wouldn't be able to tell. But I'm glad it did as it helped me move on from the grief that accompanied my breakup. You have no idea how much you helped me at the time and I was selfish enough to take all of it, without thinking of the consequences, one of which was falling for you. This conversation we are having now is one which we should have had long ago. But I was scared that me not taking the step forward and telling you all this, would make you lose interest in me. Instead, I kept you hanging. I thank you for always being such an amazing friend. I have always loved you but I was too scared to put the tag of a relationship. I mistook my infatuation as readiness for being in a relationship. I'm guilty of all the things you mentioned but I don't know what to do to make things right, as I really don't want to lose the friendship we have. With all that I have done, you'd obviously think that I don't care about you, or at least not as much as you do, but trust me, I do. I have just been shit at expressing my gratitude and telling you how much you mean to me. I'll do better. I just hope you have it in your heart to forgive me for my mistakes. Thank you.

Something that you have been really hoping for, finally happens. You cry. 

Fat, angry droplets of tears roll down your face and you close your eyes shut as the searing pain spreads in your chest. 

Everything just feels so final and also so fruitless. 

Three little dots appear at the bottom of the screen and you realise that Taehyjng must have noticed that you have read his message. 

Tae 🐻: say something

Tae 🐻: this is making me anxious 😅

Despite your blurry vision and him being the cause of your pain, you feel the need to put him at ease. 

You: i appreciate you being honest with me 

You: I'll reply properly in a while 

You: just let me have a good cry first 

The petty part of you wants him to know that you're crying, you want him to know how hurt you are. 

Tae 🐻: Y/N?

Tae 🐻: are you okay?

You don't reply, not having it in yourself to lie.

You let your tears flow as you cry silently.

It's too much for you. You feel used. You feel like a rebound. You feel like a bridge he walked on to reach his destination and to move on from his past. Your heart feels walked all over. Your love feels irrelevant. 

It's true that you wanted to make him feel good. You wanted him to move on from the hurt caused by Kira. You wanted him to feel good about himself. All because you loved him. But you never thought your love was so disposable to him. That it would only be the means for him to move on to someone else. 

What's worse is, despite all of that you understand. You understand that it wasn't a conscious choice of his to hurt you. He, himself, wasn't aware that he was using your love to heal himself. 

It's worse because a part of you feels bitter and angry. If you were the one who helped him get over his hurt, shouldn't he show at least a bit of loyalty to you? You feel angry because he didn't communicate, he left you in the dark and just assumed that you must have been detached enough from your feelings for you to not be bothered by his new relationship. But then a part of you understands that as well. 

With Taehyung, it's a tug of war where you want to be mad at him and feel betrayed by him but no matter what, your love for him makes you see things from his point of view. 

In a way, you find it surprising as well because you never realised just how deep your love runs. Seeing their side of things despite the hurt they have caused? Isn't that love at its purest? However, that makes you ache in pain as well. You loved him as your own. Only to realise that his love for you was merely an infatuation.

His love for you was shallow. 

You think it would have been better if he were an asshole whom you could just hate. It would have been easier for you because you'd know he wasn't worth your time. But how do you handle all of this when he's one of your closest friends? 

That's a question you'd probably need time to answer. You need time to let the stinging pain in your chest subside. You need time to let yourself process the silent heartbreak you're going through. 

With shaky hands and blurry vision, you block Taehyung. 

—--------------------------------------------------------

Last Friday of every month, all your colleagues go out to have dinner and drinks together. You enjoy accompanying them because honestly, it is nice and fun, almost like a little treat to yourself. However, this week, you're not really sure you'd like that. You don't have the energy to socialise.

One might argue that with recent events in mind, the best thing to do would probably be just that, to socialise, as it would take your mind off things that have been bugging you. But then you have always been the type who needs energy to socialise rather than the kind who energises themselves from socialising. 

You have almost completed packing your bag when someone taps on your shoulders. 

"You're coming with us today, right?" Shanaya queries, having a suspicious glint in her eyes as if she's already aware of your plans of not joining. 

Shaking your head softly, you confirm her suspicions. However, Shanaya is having none of that.

"You have to come," she insists, sounding determined. "It's my birthday treat."

You're thoroughly surprised at the information. "It's your birthday today? Oh my god, I'm so sorry–"

"It's not today, it's tomorrow," she cuts you off. "But tomorrow is off so it's an early birthday treat."

She looks at you with such pleading eyes that you cannot bring yourself to say no to her. Reluctantly you smile and the next thing you know, you're being wrapped in a warm hug. 

"Yay, thank you," she squeals, excited. "Now common, let's go."

As it turns out, today's destination is one stop away. Usually, you all go to someplace that's near and doesn't require transportation. However, Shanaya wanted to take all of you to a particular place that, according to her, serves the best dumplings and noodles. Who can say no to Shanaya, anyway?

As you sit there and wait with the others for the bus to arrive, you look at the screen with Taehyung's conversation open. 

It's only yesterday that you unblocked him. You were well aware that you'd be unblocking him and talking to him again at some point. The friendship was too precious for you to let go. And it's not something you're saying simply because you love him. If you were to look back, Taehyung has never been a bad friend to you. He's been there for you whenever you needed. He has never let you down when it comes to friendship. 

However, you doubt you're ready to talk to him just yet. That doesn't mean you don't want to.

There's just so much that you have to tell him. The little things that have occurred over the course of the two weeks that you had him blocked. Everything feels a little incomplete unless shared with him. 

Your fingers hover over his profile picture and you hesitate to click on it. He has uploaded a new profile picture and you wonder if it is too weird to just stare at it.

"Y/N?" 

The sound of your name startles you and while trying to hide your phone screen, you accidentally end up clicking on the small call button right next to the profile picture. 

Shit. Shit. Shit. 

You cut the call immediately and stare at the screen which now shows his name at the top of your call logs. He's gonna see a missed call from you, shit. 

"The bus is here, Y/N."

Oh right, that must be why Mike had called for you. You quickly gather your thoughts and get on the bus, shying away from the worried look Shanaya throws your way. 

When you get a seat on the bus, the first thing you do is shoot him a text. You indeed are not ready to talk to him but your accidental call has ruined your plans. 

You: I'm so sorry

You: i called you by mistake

You know it will probably be a while until he sees your call and your text and it's a good thing that you have your co-workers to accompany you. That way you'd be distracted enough to not fret about it unnecessarily. 

All of you get down when your stop arrives and make your way inside the small restaurant. 

The chatter and the giggles and the latest gossip about your boss is enough for you to temporarily ignore the sinking sadness that sits at the pit of your stomach. 

"Y/N, drinks?"

Your colleagues are well familiar with the answer to this question. You don't prefer drinking. The reason behind that, however, is not known to them.

Like the majority of people, you enjoy getting drunk and letting it loose. However, you're the kind of drunk who gets giggly and finds every little thing amusing. And for some reason, you feel comfortable to let that part of you out, only in the presence of a few people. Four, to be exact. 

One, your best friend. Two, Min Yoongi. Three, Lee Sana. And four, Kim Taehyung. 

Needless to say, you hardly ever get the chance to get drunk. 

The usual answer rests on the tip of your tongue, but there's also this desperation for you to let go of the heaviness. You really could do with some giggles and amusement.

"I'd probably have some whiskey," you reply with a shy unsure smile as your colleagues cheer.

The night somehow refuses to come to an end as you all soon find yourselves seated on the floor of Kate's apartment, in a circle. It starts off with some dancing and then Nitesh takes up the guitar and starts singing. He's a good singer, you can appreciate that and everyone's having fun with big smiles on their faces as they clap along with the beats. 

You have had three shots so far and for the love of god, you still feel that melancholy. It heightens when you realise you're sad in such a fun environment. Despite wanting to join them in their fun, your mind keeps wondering what it would be like if Taehyung were here. Gosh, it's been so long since the both of you have hung out and truthfully, it has never bothered you before. Whatever communication you two had was more than enough for you. Sharing the little details about your day, sending him silly stickers, all that held more meaning to you than he probably ever realised. That was much more intimate to you than anything physical.

You shake your head to yourself when you realise you're here being sad over a guy who wasn't even your boyfriend. It's so ridiculous. 

But then again, despite the lack of a label, you were loyal to him with your entirety.

Geez, the alcohol seemingly has made you more sensitive. 

"You sure are having fun," Shanaya comments. "I'm assuming the alcohol didn't help much?"

It doesn't take rocket science for someone to figure out that if a person who's never said yes to drinks before suddenly willingly says yes to them, there must be some pain they are trying to numb. 

"Surprisingly, no."

She hums. "Wanna talk about it?" 

Shanaya has asked this question to you multiple times over the span of the last few days. Never has it made you feel as if it's coming from a place where she is prying for details. It has only made you feel as if she's letting you know she's all ears, whenever you need her. Each time, you have shrugged as if it's not a big deal, as if it's not important enough for you to talk about. However, now, you really could do with a shoulder to cry on.

Hence, you vent and even amid all the noise and music, she intently listens to your words without interrupting even once. 

When you finish, she releases a heavy sigh. "That's what you meant when you said it was complicated."

You chuckle at the reminder of the response you had given to your then-new co-workers, to being asked about your love life. You were so cautious of hurting Taehyung, having no idea that it was going to be him, hurting you.

"Do you plan on being friends with him?" 

You don't miss the edge her tone has, as if she believes it's not worth it. Either that, or she thinks it's not possible to be friends with someone who's hurt you like that.

"I do," your reply is instantaneous. 

"Don't you feel angry?"

"I do," of course you are angry. It would be absurd if you were not. 

"Are you sure that is a good idea?"

You're not. You know the dynamic between you and Taehyung would never be the same again. Things would be different. You have now realised that things which meant a lot to you, perhaps never held the same meaning to him. The dynamic is bound to change. But is that good enough of a reason to cut your friendship off?

"He's only a human. People fall in love and sometimes, they fall out of love. I do not control the way he feels and when it comes to love, I don't think any of us have a control over who we fall for or when we fall," you release a sigh. Maybe it's all the more difficult for you because you still love him despite everything. "He's not in the wrong for falling for someone just because it's not me. I wish he would have not kept me in the dark but we all make mistakes, we all mess up."

"But more importantly, he's a friend first and he's always been an incredible friend to me. Now, I wouldn't be a good friend if I were to ever entertain the idea of making him choose between me and his happiness, would I?" 

She remains quiet for a moment, observing you closely. "Do you mean all that you said?"

You nod. 

She chuckles. "Well then, you have one of the purest hearts I have ever come across."

—--------------------------------------------------------

You were aware that there were unread texts from Taehyung but had refused to open them until morning. The night was exhausting and more than anything, you wanted to sleep. However, when morning came rolling, there was no avoiding opening his messages. 

Tae 🐻: why are you suddenly being so formal? 😂

Tae 🐻: it's completely fine.

Relief courses through your veins at his casual tone. You don't know how you'd have responded had he mentioned you blocking him seemingly out of nowhere. However, there's a small part of you that remains curious if he had even realised you blocked him. Nevertheless, you'd much rather put all of that behind you and move forward.

You: i was randomly scrolling through my phone and the next thing i knew, my phone was calling you 

Tae 🐻: lmao 

Tae 🐻: blame it on the phone, yes

You smile. Going back to being friends might not be that difficult. 

You two chat a bit and catch up with each other about things the both of you have been up to recently. You lose track of time as you make yourself a cup of tea, refusing to let your phone down, feeling excited at the thought of telling him about the things you have been up to. 

Tae 🐻: well i have something to tell you

You: uh oh

You: go on

Tae 🐻: so last day me and Bridget went on a date 

Tae 🐻: and things got steamy 👉👈

Tae 🐻: if you know what i mean

You very well know what he means.

Your stomach sinks in disappointment.

It's not because you're jealous or that the thought of Taehyung with someone else makes you feel disheartened, you have moved past that. Rather, you feel disappointed that he thought it was something appropriate to mention to you. 

Had it been anyone else in some other scenario, you'd have had no issue. Friends, close ones especially, tend to discuss these sorts of things, don't they? However, this is Taehyung and keeping the recent events in mind, he should not have mentioned it to you at all. Especially not when, his new relationship had made you feel as if he didn't bother to think of you, once. 

He keeps on going about how it was one of the best nights of his life but you don't find it in yourself to play pretend and entertain him. Although you don't directly ask him to stop, you don't reply to his texts either.

Tae 🐻: Y/N? 

The screen reads when he's done and probably upon the realisation that you haven't said anything for a long time. 

You: nice

Oh, how you wish technology was advanced enough for the text to be read aloud on his phone in a sarcastic tone.

You: let me tell you about yesterday

You: we went back to Kate's place 

You: and i got drunk simply because i was feeling low and sad and depressed and was looking for an escape 

You: but that didn't help, only enhanced what i was already feeling

You could have probably avoided saying this but then you wanted to say it. You don't know if he'll put two and two together but it's your own way of telling him that things are still sensitive.

Tae 🐻: you sound like a typical guy whose heart has been broken 😂 

A loud laugh escapes your lips. Gosh, is this the guy you have been crying over for weeks? 

Wow.

—--------------------------------------------------------

Taehyung has let you down, as a friend. More than once. 

A few days back, he'd asked if he could send you a poem that he'd written. You had always known he liked writing stuff and hadn't thought much of it. However, upon asking what it was about, he had replied 'newfound love'. Your reply to which had been, 'In that case, I'm not interested'. 

You didn't care how that sounded, you were not gonna put up with this bullshit just because it would be impolite. 

With each passing day and with each small incident where you feel as if your feelings are totally disregarded, your disappointment keeps growing. You really had not expected this kind of behaviour from Taehyung. 

One of the main reasons you had fallen for him was the way he seemed so emotionally wise. He was aware and attentive towards the people around him and was always kind. His recent attitude contradicts all of that.

There is a part of you that also recognises how his recent behaviour has made you detached. You could not say that the Taehyung you fell in love with and the Taehyung now, are the same. In a very twisted way, it made accepting the fact that there's nothing between the two of you, except friendship much easier. 

Tae 🐻: Y/N

Tae 🐻: I messed up. 

The text comes at around one in the morning. The only reason you're awake is the report that's due in two days. But the incoming text puts your fingers to a pause as worry clouds your senses. 

Is he okay? 

You: what happened? 

Tae 🐻: i messed up 

Tae 🐻: i feel so embarrassed

You: can you stop being vague? 

Tae 🐻: i sent a vm to Bridget of me singing TS 

You couldn't help rolling your eyes when you read the words. Huh, you should have seen it coming. 

Unlike other times, for some odd reason, you find yourself leaning towards the idea of entertaining him. Perhaps it's because you haven't had a proper conversation with him for a long time. And also perhaps, because you know this won't go on for long. 

You: so?

Tae 🐻: she is a huge TS fan 

Tae 🐻: she asked me to sing one of her favourite songs

Tae 🐻: and i cannot ever bring myself to say no to her

Tae 🐻: but like now that i listen back to the audio i sound terrible and i maybe did a British accent while singing

Understandably, you can see where he's coming from. The nervousness that comes with making a gesture for someone you adore and then feeling embarrassed about it, worrying whether they found it romantic or did you make a fool of yourself. And less than one month of being in a relationship is not enough to quieten the nervous jitters. 

So, you tell him what you would have, had it been any other friend. Upon further chatting you realise he genuinely feels like crawling inside a hole and never coming out. It doesn't surprise you, Taehyung has always been like that, going for the big gestures and self-doubt creeping in later.

You let yourself enjoy the normalcy and pretend that Taehyung is just another friend of yours and that he isn't someone who broke your heart.

—--------------------------------------------------------

Your phone has been buzzing and pinging since morning. Midnight to be specific. Birthday wishes have been flowing in with notes and gifs and with each message you feel more appreciated than you feel the rest three sixty-four days of the year. 

However, with each notification sound, there has also been that hope and expectation that maybe this one would be from Taehyung.

He had texted you a few days back reminding you of your upcoming birthday and although it's afternoon already, you don't really believe that he has forgotten the day altogether. 

When evening rolls around, you start growing sceptic. You squirm in your sofa, finally acknowledging that it's very well a possibility that your birthday might have slipped his mind. It makes you go back to the long, seven-hundred-word, letter he had written for your birthday, last year. 

The words make you smile.

Do you know how amazing you are? I don't think you do and it will be my job to make you see that.

Sometimes, I think I don't deserve you with how kind and loving you are but I'm so incredibly grateful for you that no amount of words would ever be enough.

I have never met someone like you, ever. 

Only a few lines from the massive paragraph that his greeting text was and the corner of your lips lift up. However, the moment is broken when you realise you're smiling. 

You shake your head as sadness fills you. You cannot let yourself recall old memories and feel the way they used to make you. It's not an option anymore.

Locking your screen, you sigh. You won't lie, you had really wanted a text from him. Anything that would show you that he still cares for you and the friendship between the both of you still held a chance. It's no wonder that you have been seeking some sort of reassurance after everything that he has done. 

It's around eleven at night that Taehyung's name first appears on your notification bar. You grin wide and open your text, glad to have been proven wrong and feeling stupid to have considered the idea of him forgetting your birthday. 

A link to a YouTube video.

Your grin disappears just as quickly and disappointment like nothing you have ever felt before, makes its way to your heart. 

You leave him on seen.

A day passes and you wonder if he will send at least a belated wish, apologising for not wishing you any sooner. But nope 

It's the day after that, the second day past your birthday when you check for any messages from him and you are led to his stories. It's slides of pictures of him and Bridget and the caption is him singing praises of her and telling the world how much in love he is because it's her birthday. 

That's your last straw.

It's probably a very small issue, forgetting birthdays and all. But to you, it's not. It just adds up to the pile of things that have made you feel like you were the only one who was taking into consideration the friendship that was at stake.

Plus, it cannot be that difficult to remember your birthday when his girlfriend's birthday is literally two days after yours. 

You have had enough. You need to walk out of Taehyung's life.  

Considering all that had made you fall for Taehyung, it's incredibly hard for you to believe that he doesn't know what he is doing and that he has forgotten basic decency. The option that was left with you, didn't make sense to you either because it implied he let you down intentionally. But the Taehyung you knew would never hurt a fly. 

It made you wonder if it was simply a result of his honeymoon phase that he had forgotten to consider how his actions could hurt people. Maybe he was too elated to think things through.  The empathetic part of you understood. But then you shook that away, knowing very well that if you were in his position, irrespective of how happy and high you were, you would never do that. 

Maybe you had realised that this was coming from the very day, he hadn't thought twice before mentioning his intimate moments with Bridget. But, boy oh boy, had you hoped to be wrong.

You had given him opportunities to prove you wrong, to give you a reason to stay but he only kept giving you reasons as to why you should leave.

It's an odd sensation that washes over you when you come to the conclusion that this isn't worth it anymore. 

You feel sad that the friendship is coming to an end. You're sure you'd miss his company and that there would be days when you mourn the friendship that once used to be. You know there would be times when you'd resent him and there would also be times when you'd feel angry at yourself for giving so much of you to him. 

But you won't ever regret your choice of leaving him. 

One thing this whole ordeal with Taehyung has made you realise is how deeply you love. How even in the midst of hurt, you were happy for him and how you saw and loved him for what he was and not for what he could be or for what he offered you. It made you take pride in the way you love. You gave him the purest form of love. 

A life where you and Taehyung are not friends, won't be your loss. It would be his. Irrespective of whether he realises that or not.

You feel oddly poweful with the knowledge that there was nothing lacking in your love and you'd never dishonour your love by staying where it isn't valued, appreciated and seen. 

But you also have a lot to say to him. You are not going to just block him and let him wonder why you did that. No, you'd tell him exactly why you left. 

—--------------------------------------------------------

It took you a couple of days to get down everything you wanted to say. There were times when you felt conscious of the ever-growing length of your letter and you had to shake off that feeling because this was going to be the last interaction between the both of you. Why stop yourself from saying everything you want to just because you're worried it'll be lengthy? 

You read the words one last time, wanting to make sure that you feel satisfied. 

Hello Taehyung, 

I hope you're doing fine. I wouldn't know how you're doing because we haven't had a proper conversation in quite some time. Or at least that is how it has felt to me. Nevertheless, I'm writing this because there's loads that I need to get off my chest. So, here we go.

When I saw you for the first time and we talked, I could feel you carried a lot of pressure on your shoulders. Almost like, you had something to prove, like you wanted to show that you weren't what you were perceived to be. Or maybe you wanted to prove that you were more than just what meets the eye. I didn't know what in particular. It felt like you wanted to be seen. 

And would you believe, I grew a soft spot for you? Do you know why? Because somewhere, I felt the same way too. 

I also knew we would be great friends, lol. You know how? Because I knew you had a heart of gold. You cared for others, you were thoughtful and kind. However, I could feel that you have a habit of being harsh on yourself and it didn't sit well with me. From the very first time we talked, I wanted to be a good friend to you, someone you could rely on, someone you could trust and someone who could possibly make you be a little less harsh on yourself. 

Perhaps with the weak spot, I also grew protective of you.

You were desperate for love and at the same time felt unworthy of it. I didn't know why though. I didn't know what had you believing so lowly about yourself. But then you told me about Kira, and it all made sense. 

It made sense why you felt unworthy and why you felt the need to prove that you were more than what others saw. Because, you believed Kira's words. You really thought you were unlovable. 

Instead of feeling the satisfaction of  being proved right, I felt so angry at Kira. I may have clawed her eyes out in my mind more than once. 

After learning the scars that she left on you, it only made me wish you could see yourself the way I do. I wished you could see that there was nothing you had to do to be loved except for just being you.

You may wonder why I'm suddenly saying all this. Well, let's just say it's necessary.

When you told me you were falling for me, I was surprised but then I felt myself feeling so warm at the thought of you liking me. It took me a few minutes to realise that I was falling for you too. 

But that was it. 

We never put a label on what we were and I was okay with it. Because I was okay with what we had, I never asked for anything because you were happy. You were also such a great friend, someone who I could talk to anything and everything about. What more could I ask for?

What's more? I could tell you were slowly coming out of whatever shell you were put in by Kira. I can't quite explain how it made me feel to see you smile more freely, to see you be more confident and be sure of yourself. But to put it lightly, it made me feel damn good lol.

I knew I had some part to play in it. I just didn't know that was the only part you wanted me to play. 

I moved past all that, trust me. You using my love as a rebound, making a girlfriend without even letting me know once, I moved past all that. Because, I trusted you when you told me you were confused and confusion is never intentional, is it? 

It hurt like a bitch to think that was all my love meant to you. But it was okay, you didn't mean to hurt me. You cared about me. You cared about our friendship. You valued it. 

Or so you said. 

I don't know if you meant it when you said it. But in case you did mean it, here are a few things not to do to the girl you used as a rebound and intend to keep the friendship with.

First, do not mention that you had sex with your new girlfriend. 

Second, do not be dumb enough to say "You sound like a typical guy whose heart has been broken" when you are the guy who's caused the damage. 

Third, do not send her the song you sang for your girlfriend and seek comfort to soothe the embarrassment you feel.

Fourth, do not ask her to read the poems you wrote for your girlfriend.

Fifth, do not forget her birthday when your girlfriend's is just two days later. 

These things didn't hurt me as much as it disappointed me. Would you believe, I laughed when you called me a typical heartbroken guy? When I got drunk the day before, my head was filled with thoughts of you and my heart was heavy with the knowledge that I was only a rebound. That day, even in the midst of alcohol, I chose our friendship over everything. I chose to forgive you. I chose to love you, still. But when you mentioned what you did, I just found it so funny to think that this was the guy I was thinking so much about and was so sad about. 

As it turns out, I'm not much fond of thoughtless people. 

But still, I hoped that somehow you'd give me a reason to stay. All you did, however, was turn a blind eye to my feelings and disrespected me.

If you were to ask me, whether my love for you is romantic or platonic, I wouldn't be able to tell. I have never sat and thought about it. All I know is I loved you, in one of the most unselfish ways possible. 

But that's not to say I don't realise how I deserve to be treated. And that's not to say that I'd stay somewhere where I'm an afterthought. 

When I said, I was happy for you and Bridget I really meant it and I hope you don't think that your relationship ever had a role to play in this decision of mine. It didn't, it was solely you that made me choose this option.

But this friendship of ours has run its course.

I would never disrespect myself by putting up with your disrespect. I loved you as long as you were worth it. But the moment you took my love for granted was the very moment you lost my respect and love, both. 

If you have made it to the end, then congrats! I didn't know if you'd read the whole thing but truth be told I don't particularly care about you reading it either. I wrote this for myself, not for you. 

Before I finish this long-ass letter, let me tell you something; you have lost one of the best people you'd ever meet in this lifetime. 

Thank you,

With Love,

The purest form.

Jeon Jungkook

His words echo in your mind and after an elongated pause, you find it in yourself to respond. “What do you mean?”

Jungkook gulps, hating how controlled your facial expressions are. In the months of knowing you, he has never seen you try this hard to hide your emotions. “Me and Niki are not actually a couple.”

“Thank you for rephrasing the sentence but I am afraid that it does not make things any clearer for me.”

Jungkook takes a sharp inhale and meets your eyes with uncertainty. “It’s just a PR stunt.”

It takes a few moments for the words to register but when they do, things start making sense, almost like puzzle pieces falling in place.

Namjoon’s hesitance in answering your question about the truth of their relationship. His lack of shock to the words you had heard Niki speak and most importantly, why Niki might have said those words. The whole relationship is not real to begin with.

“But, why?” The words leave your lips without your permission, before you’re able to catch them.

For a moment, he hesitates, wondering if it’s his place to say a few of the things he will have to, to make things clear.  But then he shakes off the worry, knowing Niki won’t mind.

“Both of our fandom, for some reason, ship us together. You know the whole ‘both are maknaes’ thing. Nevertheless, both of our companies thought it would be mutually beneficial for the two of us to put up this false act that we are dating.”

“How is it supposed to be mutually beneficial?” It doesn’t make sense to you. One of the oddest and most toxic traits of the kpop industry is how idols are expected to be loyal to their fans by remaining single. How then, a public relationship is supposed to garner anything except for unnecessary attention and hate?

“Niki is well, dating a youtuber. A female youtuber and pictures of them hanging out together didn’t take long to make it to the internet. Although at the beginning, everyone thought they were just good friends, soon there were questions as to whether it was just a simple friendship and well, people were not really happy with that idea,” he sighs, feeling tired just from thinking about everything that had led to this whole ordeal. “It wasn’t only about Niki dating a girl, it was also about her dating someone that wasn’t me. And of course, it was her girlfriend’s fault for coming between two people who are 'meant to be'. All of which ultimately made it incredibly difficult for the two of them to be at peace.”

You can imagine. The thought makes you sympathise with both of them. From Jungkook's words, it's clear the target was Niki’s girlfriend but you are sure it couldn’t have been easy for Niki to watch someone she loves hurt like that.

You understand Niki’s part of the deal. Putting up this font, would stop the threats and hate aimed at them but what was Jungkook supposed to get from this?

Jungkook looks at you and nods, acknowledging the unasked question. "When the offer first came, our company had turned it down, not seeing how it could benefit me. But I was the one who insisted and agreed."

"Why?" 

His discomfort grows and he swallows nervously, trying to gather his thoughts. "People are obsessed with me and Niki to the point where it's very predictable that they would hate it if someday I were to date someone who isn't her. I thought it would be good if we did this thing and people believed that we gave it a shot but it didn't work out. That way it would be one less thing I'd have to worry about while dating someone."

You put the thought behind of how it seems incredibly far-fetched and nod. He has answered your question about the nature of their relationship and why it was necessary. However, you still have a bunch of questions about a lot of things–starting with how crushed you felt when he moved you as Namjoon's make-up artist out of nowhere–but you do not wish to let them see the light of the day. 

Turning away, you start shuffling with some of the make-up products, indicating that the conversation is done. 

"Please say something," Jungkook pleads, tormented by your silence. 

"There's nothing more to say," you mutter, keeping away any emotion from being shown. 

"That can't be true."

You hate how sure he sounds. As if he is aware of every thought that's running in your head. As if he knows you a little too well. You absolutely despise how you might have believed the notion, once. Now, however, you do not want to. Because that'd mean he knew exactly how much hurt, his ignorance and pretence as if you don't even exist, caused you. 

"Y/N, please. We haven't talked for a long time. Please don't shut me out." 

Technically, you have two options. One, to keep ignoring him. Two, to snap at him and let every bit of your anger out. You had initially planned on sticking to option number one as it would make you look just as indifferent as Jungkook. However, now you find the option of letting words out without a filter, very appealing. 

"I know, I messed up but just talk to me–" the sound of a shaky exhale meets your ears, "–I miss spending time with you."

Well, that's some audacity. 

In the blink of an eye, you're facing Jungkook and taking several steps in his direction. You stop only a few steps away from him but you're close enough for him to notice the agony and pure rage storming through your eyes. 

"You better shut your mouth, Jeon." 

Jungkook flinches at your warning tone. However, he refuses to take the hint. "Y/N, ignoring me isn't going to solve–"

"Trust me, I'm not trying to solve anything," you speak through gritted teeth. "I'm just doing what I think is the right thing to do after someone disrespects you immensely."

"I wasn't trying to disrespect you," he claims, desperately trying to make you believe in something you don't buy for even a second.

"Yeah, ghosting me out of nowhere is not disrespecting me at all," your voice drops with sarcasm 

He feels his heart drop when you use the word 'ghosting'. Did you think that's what he did? Is that what it looked like? Gosh, this has all gotten messed up and he's the one to be blamed.

"I didn't ghost you," he mumbles, unable to look into your eyes and the sight of it causes all the pain that you had buried, to come to the surface. 

"Then please explain what it was," you voice waivers and you immediately hate yourself for showing weakness. "Please tell me what you thought you were doing by replacing me without even showing the basic decency to inform me that, yourself?"

He gulps, wondering if you'd even believe what he has to say. Even if you do, would you be willing to look past his stupidity?

"I found your note in my bag", you visibly flinch at the mention of the note. You had intentionally kept from mentioning your little confession, praying to whatever god is out there that somehow the note had been damaged before it reached the hands of the person they were meant to find. 

Jungkook notices your change of expression as it turns from hurt to embarrassed to anger and he despises himself for making you feel like that. "I had to make a quick decision and I didn't think you'd like to be my make up artist while I was fake dating Niki, especially without you having any knowledge about the fake part."

You stare at him blankly and try to process what he was saying. Did he–did he think he was doing you a favour by cutting you off?

You scoff, turn around and start packing your things with the intention of leaving the room. You're so done with this conversation.

When Jungkook understands your intention, he's quick on his feet and rushes to be right next to you. "Just give me the chance to explain myself fully."

You don't reply, your insides fuming.

"Y/N please," he begs. "Just hear me out once. Then I'll accept whatever it is that you decide for the both of us."

"I'm not gonna stand here and hear you speak utter bullshit that does nothing but let me down further."

Your voice comes with such a sense of finality that Jungkook knows, no matter how much he begs and pleads, you won't be giving him the opportunity to speak his side of things. 

Hence, he doesn't stop you when you walk past him and leave the room. But it only makes him more desperate for the day when you finally find it in your heart to give him a chance. Just one.

—-----------------------------------------------------

Jungkook has been persistent. Perhaps a little too persistent with his attempts to earn your forgiveness. Or at least that's what you assume the bouquets of flowers and little notes you find everyday at work are for. 

It's not only the flowers, it's also his constant texting and voicemails. His texts vary from a simple 'hi, what are you doing' to 'please, i miss you' and his voicemails have been a mix of him telling you about his day (something he used to do regularly when you were his makeup artist) to a more emotional version of his texts begging you to talk to him. 

You won't lie, his incessant pleadings have made you curious what more could he possibly have to say. What could be so different from what he has already said that he is so desperate? 

On one hand, you find an odd sense of satisfaction from not responding to Jungkook despite all his efforts. You don't know what that makes you but after the hurt and embarrassment you felt to the point where you had to numb yourself to block those emotions out, his tries and attempts feel like an ointment to your wounds. On the other hand, however, is a voice nagging you as to how, this cannot go on for long. The huge bouquets that wait for you everyday are soon going to catch attention and if anyone were to catch a hint of who it is from…gosh, you don't want to imagine that.

But when you will find it in yourself to have a conversation with him, still remains unknown. All you know is whenever that will be, it will be solely because you don't want word to go out. Yes, that's all it will be. 

Today when you walk into Namjoon's dressing room, there's another bouquet waiting for you. The sight of it causes you to sigh. You don't know what Namjoon thinks of this but you're thankful that he hasn't mentioned it yet. That however, made it quite clear that he has some idea as to who they are from.

You let the flowers be where they are. You have never really taken them home or put them in water, afraid that it would be interpreted as you being accepting of his efforts, when you're far from it. You're still hurt and angry. 

If anything, sometimes you despise walking into a room full of flowers as they serve as a reminder of the thoughts you had before confessing to him. You remember thinking how confessing felt like putting a delicate unbloomed flower in someone's hand and whether the bud gets to bloom or not, depends on the person you're confessing to. 

If only you had known of the thorns you would be exposed to, back then, you'd never have confessed. 

The door swings open softly and Namjoon walks in. "Good morning, Y/N."

"Good morning," you greet him back with a smile. 

"So what's on card for today?" He asks before taking his usual seat. 

"There's nothing much for today, just rehearsals and then you have a v-live," you mumble. "But firstly I need to do your weekly facial."

He huffs. "Is it the one that requires you putting a lot of slimy stuff on my face and it stays on for like thirty minutes?" 

"Yep," you reply with a light laugh. Despite what he says, you have learnt that Namjoon quite enjoys his facial sessions. Unlike a certain someone. 

Your smile falters and your sudden change of mood doesn't go unnoticed by Namjoon. 

"Have you considered speaking to Jungkook?" He asks after a brief moment of silence. 

You're taken aback by his words. Namjoon has always avoided speaking on the matter. He has never even queried as to what you do with the flowers. Hence, his direct way of questioning has you fumbling with words. 

"I d–haven't," you change your wording, fearing 'I don't want to', might just be a little too rude. 

However, your choice of answer is put to vain with the very next question he asks. "Do you want to?" 

"I don't want to," you softly shake your head, mildly afraid how Namjoon will interpret it.

He simply nods, without any trace of judgement. "I'm not saying this because I'm picking sides, but I have known Jungkook since he was a kid and I can tell that he really is sorry. 

"Whether to forgive him or not, is completely on you. But put a little trust on him that he must have some reason behind doing what he did. Just hear him out once."

You keep quiet, unsure what to say. Thankfully, Namjoon understands that and soon changes the topic of conversation to something more light-hearted. 

Hours later, when everything comes to a close and it's time for you to leave, you find yourself hesitating. Namjoon's words simply refuse to leave your mind. Put a little trust in him. How can you, when he's let you down in every way possible? When he has betrayed your trust in ways that still keep hurting you? 

You gulp when you realise there's probably no end to the hurting until you have a chat with Jungkook and hear his side. At least, that way you will know his reasoning behind everything and it will hopefully stop your self loathing for putting the note in his bag. Even if all he gives is excuses, you'd at least have the satisfaction of having heard him out. Later maybe a week, or a month from now, when your emotions subside, you wouldn't have this unscratched itch of not knowing what he had to say. 

Maybe, maybe it's for the best that you talk to him.

—-----------------------------------------------------

"Come in," Jungkook calls out in response to the knock at his door and is visibly surprised when you walk in. He quickly gets up from his seat, stuffs his phone in his pocket and with a nervous voice asks, "would you like some coffee?"

You shake your head. You're not here for coffee. "No, thank you. I'm here to talk to you."

He nods as his nervousness spikes. This is what he has wanted and hoped for so long, but now that you're here, he doubts you will believe him. What if you don't? Even worse, what if you do and still don't forgive him?

The both of you get seated and your fingers anxiously play with the strap of your handbag. "What is it that you have been wanting to tell me?"

Jungkook sighs. Pushing the nervousness away, he knows that the only thing in his power is to tell you his side of things. Otherwise, he's powerless. 

"For the things I said last day, to make sense, I would have to mention that I like you," he cannot find it in himself to look at you as he says that. "I've liked you for a long time."

The words take you by surprise, and your mouth parts in shock. The shock then morphs into disbelief and denial. He did not just confess to liking you.

"But it's never that simple when you're a famous K-pop idol," something bitter coats his words and he looks defeated. "The consequences of dating me, is something that one doesn't realise until they face it for themselves."

Jungkook has grown a thick skin. But you? He doesn't want you to be someone who ever has to go through things that require you to build a thick skin. He doubts he will ever forgive himself if he were to see you beaten up by harsh words and constant criticism, all because of your association to him.

"I wanted to tell you how I felt but just the sheer terror of what you may have to go through, kept me from doing so," an unwanted shiver runs through his body when he recalls the moments where the fluttering in his chest would always be accompanied by a heavy sinking in his stomach. "It wasn't my choice to stress about these things but I couldn't help myself considering that associating with me had consequences."

Your face falls with each word that leaves his lips. 

"It was choosing between giving into my feelings and listening to logic. I tried to be logical and practical for as long as I could. Until, I just couldn't," a humourless chuckle escapes his lips. "I remember thinking that I just need to tell you how you make me feel."

He doesn't voice how there was a part of him that had wished you'd not reciprocate his feelings. That way, even after his sheer selfishness, things would be fine. 

"It was around the time I decided on confessing to you, that I learnt about the proposition from Niki's agency. Call me incredibly stupid but I thought if I did this, I'd at least do something instead of sitting and dreading with my hands tied." Jungkook shakes his head, finding it cruel that even after all this, he somehow managed to mess everything up. 

Your mouth parts unknowingly when the pieces click. Jungkook's decision to date Niki for the cameras, didn't come out of nowhere and it wasn't as far-fetched as you thought. His decision had come from a place of anxiety where he felt powerless. 

"But then I found that note," he cannot help but recall that day fondly. He felt like a kid and often found himself smiling, looking into the mirror. However, that joy was soon wiped off when the situation sank in. "I was so excited and happy, but then I realised that I had already agreed to date Niki."

You hardly blink as Jungkook speaks and due to that, you don't miss the way a smile appears on his lips. But it's gone as soon as it appears, as if he catches himself slipping and reprimands himself for it. It makes you consider the possibility if he was receptive to your confession in a positive way. 

"I didn't know what to do, I couldn't imagine letting you know that I felt the same but then going out and holding another woman's hand. Even if it's for the cameras, it's–," he closes his eyes shut as if pained, "–it's horrible."

"I couldn't do that but I also needed to make a quick decision. I thought the only way to go about things was to postpone answering your confession. After the announcement of the breakup with Niki, I thought I could talk to you then and clear things out. At that moment, that was the only option that made sense to me."

His words take you back to the day when you were filled with nervous excitement only for it to be replaced with dread and heartbreak when you learnt that Jungkook had replaced you as his makeup artist, just like that. 

"It was stupid, I know," he mutters in a small voice. "I don't have anything to say in my defence except for admitting that I messed things up and I didn't realise what it must have looked like to you, until it was too late." 

He paused for a few moments, looking exhausted. "I-I am sorry for everything. I know it's hard to believe but hurting you was the last thing I wanted to do. I really just wanted to make things right. If you can, please, forgive me."

You sense that to be the end of everything Jungkook had to say. The way he looks at the floor and refuses to look at you, makes you want to comfort him. But your feelings are too muddled, you're too confused and there's a lot that you have learnt that has left you surprised. You don't think you're in the state of mind to make decisions now. 

"Thank you for telling me everything," you keep your voice soft. It gives Jungkook the courage to finally look up at you and his breath hitches when he realises you aren't looking at him with your gaze filled with hate and pain. It gives him hope. "But I need some time to process everything." 

Jungkook nods, knowing that's the best he can ask for at the moment. He's relieved that you aren't dismissing his words and feels incredibly grateful that you are taking time to think things through. He knows that you taking time is more for yourself than for him, but there's a hint of a promise that this is not the end of the conversation, that you'll talk to him again. And that's more than anything Jungkook can ever ask for.

—-----------------------------------------------------

The last few days, your mind has been completely occupied with Jungkook's words. Not only his words but also the way he looked refuses to leave your mind. You couldn't find it in yourself to doubt his genuineness and the fact that he was feeling terrible, was displayed in green neon lights. 

You had to remind yourself repeatedly that it isn't only about how he feels. You should cater to your feelings and figure out what to do next. 

There was also the new revelation that Jungkook liked you. Quite honestly, you didn't know what to do with that information. The whole conversation was melancholic and it must have rubbed off on you for you didn't feel the joy one usually does on learning that their crush likes them back. 

Everything was quite confusing. So much so, that it had taken an entirety of five days for you to sort out your thoughts and approach Jungkook. 

He sits across from you in a pale blue shirt and black trousers, his body language screams that he's nervous and oddly enough it comforts you to know that you aren't the only one feeling that way. 

"After learning everything, I couldn't help but wish you had communicated before. It would have saved the both of us a lot of hurt," you begin with a sombre tone, feeling your heart hurt at the constant overthinking you have had to go through. "Things might have been simpler that way." 

"I know," Jungkook nods, not having a single word to defend himself with. 

You look at him a moment longer wondering if he would try providing  you with a reason for his lack of communication. When he doesn't, you're confused how you're supposed to perceive it. 

On one hand, you'd have liked for him to actually have a proper reason. On the other, you're sure Jungkook is aware of his mistakes and his lack of response somehow gives the impression that he's owning up to everything without making excuses. 

"But what's done is done and there's no changing it," you continue after a small sigh. "It's for the best that we move on from it."

Jungkook's heart shrinks. By moving on do you mean just never acknowledging the feelings you both share for each other? That's exactly what comes to his mind because you feeling the same way you did, despite the hurt he has caused you, sounds too good to be true. He cannot be shameless either to ask you about it directly. He will take whatever you will give him. 

Instead, he asks a question which he knows would eat him alive if he doesn't voice it. "Can you forgive me?" 

"I wouldn't have asked for the both of us to move on, if I hadn't already," and then you do something that makes Jungkook feel like a ton of bricks have been lifted off from his chest. You smile at him.

Forgiving Jungkook wasn't easy. You wanted to hold on to the anger because your pride was hurt and most importantly, you were scared of getting hurt again. But then you also had to think through things logically. 

Jungkook has never had it easy with fame. Nothing could have ever prepared him for the way he has always been under scrutiny and his sudden loss of control over his own life. With time, he learnt that it was for the best to not pay attention to the people who weren't even familiar with him. 

He could overlook and turn deaf to the hate that's thrown his way. However, his loved ones being targeted is something that fills him with guilt to an inexplicable amount. You have seen it yourself. 

The incident isn't that old. A year back, Jungkook had gone out with a bunch of his childhood friends. He was pictured closing the car door for one of them, who so happened to be a girl. That one single shot was enough for the media and internet to decide there must be something more than platonic going between the two. 

You remember the way Jungkook was so troubled and absolutely heartbroken with the hate and threats that were aimed at his friend, for something so simple and it was visible to everyone that he blamed himself for it.

You cannot imagine what kind of stones would be thrown at you if word got out. The information that you're his makeup artist would be a cherry on top. Gold digger, witch, slut, whore; some of the less colourful terms. 

Seeing the way Jungkook suffered, it made sense why he would be so scared to be open about his feelings. You could imagine yourself feeling the same way had it been you being in his place. Seeing someone you care for, getting hate that they absolutely don't deserve, is painful enough for one to believe that it's for the best to keep distance. 

You also imagined what you would have felt had Jungkook admitted his feelings and had told you about the fake dating. Yes, you'd have the knowledge that there was nothing real between him and Niki. However, you'd also have to see them all over the internet and watch people go on and on about how perfect they are. You'd be aware that Jungkook likes you, but you'd also be bitter about how the beginning of your relationship is marked with him publicly dating someone else. It's not exactly a nice feeling. 

One could argue that the way events have turned out, they aren't perfect either. But there's nothing going on between Jungkook and you. At least, not yet. 

That's one thing that you both need to talk about and you really want to clear out everything, at once. Who knows what miscommunication would occur if things were left unsaid, again? 

"I would never intentionally hurt you, Y/N,"Jungkook squirms a little in his seat, ignoring the absence of the weight that has been eating him alive for days. He thinks you're going easy on him and he thinks he doesn't deserve it. 

"I am choosing to trust your words," you reply, having a sense of the turmoil Jungkook seems to be going through. The fact that he is always hard on himself is not unknown to you. "All I ask from you is to not break my trust. And for you to accept that you do not have to burden yourself with responsibilities."

Jungkook knows it's hard for him to not feel like there's always a bunch of responsibilities on his shoulder. Especially when one moment of misjudgement can cause irreversible damage. Despite that, he feels a sense of warmth spread throughout his body at your words. 

"I'll try."

You shoot Jungkook another smile; the second one this evening and he can't help but think that you should really stop giving him hope.

"There's one more thing that we need to talk about," your cheeks turn red and much like Jungkook earlier, it's your turn to squirm in your seat. "You said something about liking me."

You feel awkward at the choice of your words but then you aren't brave enough to start by mentioning your note of confession. 

Jungkook's eyes turn as wide as saucers and his whole face flushes to match the shade of your cheeks. He really wasn't expecting for you to bring it up. "Umm yeah," he nods. 

You feel a spark of impatience and annoyance at his short response. You took it upon yourself to bring the topic to the table and he cannot just spill everything, already? Why make it more difficult for you? 

"Yeah…..so?" You look at him with your brows raised, trying your best to ignore the way you feel like a three year old shy girl, on the inside. 

"I–I do like you," he stutters and looks away, for the umpteenth time, unable to meet your eyes. 

Your heart takes a fucking long jump. Who would have thought Jeon Jungkook would be so shy about admitting his feelings? 

"What should we do about it?" You intentionally use the 'we' for Jungkook to catch the hint that you want to do something about it. 

But of course, he doesn't. 

He speaks sullenly, "I have lost the right to have a say in the matter." 

"I want you to have a say in the matter. Tell me, Jungkook, what do you want?" You refuse to let go of the conversation and for Jungkook to let his guilt swallow him. He messed up, there's no denying that. But you could always acknowledge the fact that his heart was in the right place. 

Feelings of frustration makes his throat clogged up . "I just want to go back and redo things in a different way."

"That's not possible. What do you want to do now?"

He knows what he wants but voicing it, feels being ungrateful towards your forgiveness. It feels like he's being greedy. "What I do want, feels like too much to ask for."

"You'll never know until you ask for it." 

He sighs and reminds himself that you're asking him about the romantic feelings he has admitted to harbouring towards you. He reminds himself to not be selfish and make it about his guilt. If you want to know, he will tell you and he will be honest about it. 

"I want to be with you," his admission is made in a small voice but it doesn't hide the clarity his words have. 

Your breath hitches and you feel the soft pitter patter of your heart that you had missed when he admitted his feelings for you the first time around. 

"When does this fake relationship of yours end?" 

"A month from now."

You nod. "A month from now, take me out on a date and we will see."

Jungkook's eyes snap to yours, not having expected you to speak those words. You shoot him a small smile before getting up and leaving the room. 

—-----------------------------------------------------

SIX MONTHS LATER

"I swear to god, if you don't stay still, I'll intentionally ruin your makeup."

Your threatening low tone goes in through one ear and comes out of the other. "You could never do that."

"Don't test my limits."

A pout makes its appearance. "But that's my favourite thing to do."

You sigh in both astonishment and in love. 

How do you manage to repeat the same routine with the same man everyday and never get tired of it? Maybe it has everything to do with the way your heart keeps stuttering around this man.

No, the man sitting in front of you, is not the global superstar Jeon Jungkook. 

The man sitting in front of you is your boyfriend, Jungkook. 

The official tag on your relationship was put four months ago, after a month of going out on dates. When you say going out, you mean staying in the hybe building and arranging dates in as innovative a way as one can. 

The month in which Jungkook had to pretend to be Nikki's boyfriend only proved to you why it would have been difficult for you had you and Jungkook actually been a thing at the time. It was already painful and as petty and irrational as it may sound, it also made you jealous when you would see articles of the two of them. You're not quite sure how humilated you would have felt if you two were to be dating at the time and to see people comment on how they are a match made in heaven.

That one month, for Jungkook, was a mix of everything. The beginning of the month came with constant doubts and shame where he wondered what he should do when the month is up. He wanted you but he didn't really think he deserved you. But then he had to make up his mind; he made a mistake and he always acknowledged that but it would be so incredibly foolish if he were to let that stop him from being with you. After a week or so, he had made up his mind. He messed up, but boy if he wasn't going to make up for it.  

That whole month was spent with him brainstorming ideas on how he can show his sincerity and be a better man. Somewhere along the line, he had opened up to Niki about it and there's just a hundred percent chance that if he's smiling wide in one of those paparazzi pictures, he's talking about you.

Jungkook has been nothing but the best boyfriend you could have ever asked for. Any hurt or doubt was washed away soon after the both of you started going out. Being with Jungkook was so much more than you could have ever imagined. 

A month after being together, you were back as Jungkook's make-up artist. It was the best way to go about it as it would keep the both of you away from suspicious eyes and give the both of you ample amount of time to spend with each other. 

You both are aware that at some point, you'd have to inform the agency of the nature of your relationship as that'd be better than them finding it out from other sources. You're not quite sure what would be left of your job, but Jungkook seems quite sure that you won't be fired and that the members together, would somehow manage the higher authorities to make their rules more flexible. 

Jungkook isn't worried about the consequences with hybe, but he still finds himself stressing about the day the news becomes public. That is where you reassure him, that whatever happens, you both will get through it, together. You also remind him to not fret about it too much, because there's a long way to go before things are made public. For the time being, it's just the two of you. 

"No wait, that's actually my second favourite thing," Jungkook corrects himself. "My top favourite might just be kissing you."

You fight the blush trying to make an appearance and ask, "might?"

"The last time you kissed me was ten minutes ago. Forgive me for forgetting what it was like to be kissed by you."

As cute and adorable as Jeon Jungkook might be in front of the cameras, you have recently learned that he's just as sly and playful when he wants to be. 

"Will you stay still if I kiss you?" 

"Kiss me first and then you shall have your answer." 

So you do. 

Your soft lips are welcomed eagerly by his and they move against each other, tenderly without a hint of rush. Your breaths mingle and soft sighs escape as your hands get tangled in his hair. 

When you part, there's only a hair's gap between the two of you, "So what's the verdict?" 

Jungkook's doe eyes appear dazed as he looks at you. "Well my brain has turned into a mush, so you can totally expect me to stay still."

You giggle and the sound of it warms Jungkook's heart like nothing ever has. 

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

A/N: i was so anxious about making this so long especially the Taehyung part but then the Taehyung part is something that happened to me irl, so i also just wanted it to be as real as possible. For Jimin, it just didn't feel right for the reader to agree to go out or be with Jimin without him earning it. But then, it also didn't quite fit in this reaction thing, if that makes sense? If y'all want some good ol' grovelling from this Jimin in a one-shot i will see what I can come up with 😉.

That being said, let me know what you thought of this! (This really was a lot of work, so your words would be greatest source of encouragement and achievement for me). Also, if you like my work and wish to have access to all my works before anyone else, here's my patreon!

Hope you enjoyed reading this!

[finelinevogue]

love her stupid

summary - you are jealous of harry’s new bandmate, when you really don’t need to be

word count - ~1k

pairing - nonfamous!harry x reader

You didn’t think you really ever got jealous.

Not like this.

Sitting in your boyfriend’s room, alone whilst your boyfriend and his bandmates practiced downstairs, you never thought you’d be jealous of their new lead vocalist.

Your boyfriends band - Last Day on Earth - were in need of a female voice to better their music, and after many interviews for someone they came across Shana. She was a brilliant singer with just the right love for this kind of music - indie rock.

She was also out, most definitely, for your boyfriend.

You had come straight from the library to Harry’s house, hoping to spend the evening with your boyfriend.

When you arrived you heard them before you saw them. Harry and the band often practiced in his mum’s basement, as long as they were finished up by 10PM.

“Hello, love!” Anne had coddled you on the way in, taking your jacket from you and hanging it up in her under-stairs cupboard like you were part of the family.

“How are you, Anne?” You asked.

“Doing alright, love, yeah. You?” She pointed towards the kettle. “Cuppa?”

“Oh, no thanks. Just gonna see H if that’s okay?”

“Of course. He’s downstairs with Mitch, Tyler, Pauli and Shana.”

“S-Shana?” You questioned, pulling the sleeves of Harry’s sweatshirt over your hands and crossing your arms over your chest.

“Yes. She’s the bands new lead singer. Bit pitchy if you ask me, but it’s not my band.” Anne shrugged her shoulder and continued making herself a tea.

“Is Sarah here?”

“Yes, she is actually. Mitch is giving her a ride home I think.” Anne said, because apparently she was more clued up on your friends than you were.

“Okay.” You nodded, smiling. “Think I’m just gonna go to Harry’s room for a bit. If that’s okay?”

“Do what you want, Y/N. This house is as much yours as it is ours.”

You thanked Anne and walked up to Harry’s room.

Harry’s room was very stereotypical for a guy going through college. He had his bed with blur bedsheets and duvet. His posters on his walls from famous movies and concerts he liked. His bookshelf filled with Tolkein and Pratchett. His drum set in the corner of the room and his desk in another.

You threw your tote bag to the floor by the door and jumped onto his bed, before laying down.

His whole room smelt of him, obviously, and you absolutely loved it. He smelt so warm and musky. He smelt homely and comforting.

And after a long day studying, that was just what you needed.

You took out your phone and pulled up your text messages.

To Harry: in your room xx

To Harry: just going to lay here for a bit, then i’ll come say hi to you and the band xx

It took you a while to build up the energy to speak to people, especially after a long day studying. Your social battery took a long time to charge up and then drained almost instantly after one use, much like your old(ish) iphone.

You pulled out Harry’s Nintendo Switch and loaded up a new Mario Kart game.

Even though it was Harry’s Switch, you used it much more than he did. Harry much rather prefers his PC for gaming. A lot of the time he’ll game whilst you read, both of your sitting in comfortable silence as you enjoy being in each others presence.

Your phone pinged when you finished scrolling through Instagram.

From Harry: I’ll be up in 5 x

You didn’t expect Harry to stop practicing with his band, especially not for you, but it made your heart swell knowing he cared about you so much as to stop band practice for a little bit so he could see you.

A day apart from each other was too long. You had even packed your toothbrush today with the hope Harry would be okay with you staying over.

You pulled out Harry’s plaid pyjama bottoms from underneath his pillow, stepped out of your uncomfortable jeans and put on his pyjamas. It was a sigh of relief and comfort when you put them on.

You won your game on the Switch with a whispered cheer just as Harry walked into his room.

“Hey, you.” He smiled.

“Harry!” You cheered, dropping the Switch to greet him.

You sat up on his bed, coming to kneel at the edge of his bed with your arms out. He walked over to you and into your awaiting arms, linking his own around your neck and giving the top of your head a couple of kisses.

You hummed in comfort as you took in his homely smell.

You squeezed him a little tighter before letting him go. You moved back just a bit rested your chin on his chest, looking up at him from an unflattering angle.

“You okay?” He smiled down at you, double chins only making him look prettier.

“Mhm.” You tiredly smiled.

“How was the library?”

“Boring. Missed my study buddy.”

“Oh, I’m sorry baby.”

“Kiss? To make it up to me?”

Harry laughed, “Of course.”

He leant down slowly and you tilted your head to the side to let him have room. You captured his lips with yours, softly. It was a slow and soft kiss. Intimate and loving.

You pulled away, only for Harry to chase your lips back to his kissing you again. You smiled into the kiss, before giving him what he was clearly craving; You.

You reached up a hand from around him to bring up to his cheeks and squish them, so his lips could break away from yours.

“Oi, piss off.” Harry sounded silly at he spoke with your fingers squishing his cheeks.

You giggled, letting him go completely, before sitting back on your heels and smiling up at him.

Harry ended up resting his palms on the bed either side of you, bending down to your head height to speak to you.

“Come watch us play?” He asked politely, kissing your cheek.

“But Shana’s there.” You looked down, suddenly finding your fingers far more interesting. You messed with the ring on your finger that was actually Harry’s. The one he’d given to you one random night together, to show you how much he loved you.

“She is.”

“Yeah.” You said, not knowing how to articulate what you meant.

“She’s nice.” Harry added.

“I bet she is.” You huffed, when you had no reason to.

“She’s a good vocalist too, which is the only reason she’s here.”

“How good?” You looked up at him.

“Good enough that her girlfriend recommended her to us.” Harry smirked, knowing he got you there.

“Oh. Cool.”

Harry quickly kissed your forehead before standing up to normal height. “C’mon Little Miss Jealous.”

He held out a hand for you. You took it and he helped to pull you off the bed. He pulled you close to him so you chest hit his with a soft collision.

“Hey.” He spoke to get your attention. You tilted your head up to look at him through starry eyes.

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

You smiled, “Love you too.”

“Who loves me?” He asked for you to be clearer.

“I do.”

“Good. Wouldn’t want you to be anyone else.”

Harry always knew what to say, even when you were being unnecessarily mardy. There was no reason for you to be jealous for Shana, but sometimes you got in your own head too much.

Harry was always there to coax you out of your head though, working through your jealousy until you knew there was no reason.

He always validated you, but he also always reassured you.

“Okay. We can go now.” You nodded more confidently.

“Ready to watch me with heart eyes, baby?” Harry smirked.

“Always do, baby. Can you play ‘Love Her Stupid’?” You gave him puppy eyes.

“Think that’s a great idea, love.”

••••

(bonus)

You made it downstairs with Harry.

You found yourself walking in behind Harry, who went straight to the cookie cupboard.

His mum hit his hand before he could grab the whole packet.

“You can have one, mister. Dinner will be ready soon.” Anne said.

You laughed as Harry groaned and tilted his head back in frustration. His craving for biscuits was a serious one. One that you joked about with him all the time.

“Y/N, tell him he needs to cut down on the biscuits.” Anne tapped Harry’s stomach.

Harry was toned, don’t get anyone wrong, but he also had a little bit of chub there when he wanted. You loved how he didn’t take his body too seriously, but also didn’t neglect himself.

“I do tell him. He just doesn’t listen.”

“Listen to your girlfriend H, otherwise you’ll bloody lose her.” Anne lectured him.

“Lose her?” Harry scoffed. “Y/N’s obsessed with me.”

“In your dreams.” You rolled your eyes, but realistically what he said was the truth. You were obsessed and you were okay with that.

[cumikering]

Neighbour Ghost x reader 2

2.1k | fluff You had many dinners with Simon (part 1) (part 3)

Simon Riley white-knuckled the vegetable peeler against the poor carrot in his other hand like it owed him money.

He’d knocked on your door that morning with the full intention of being helpful, but it was painfully difficult to hide the fact that he was beyond clueless as he stood there at the counter. He even dressed for the occasion, wearing a loose black shirt to not dirty his sleeves. It was his first time seeing you in something other than a hoodie, and he caught your momentary gaze on his tattooed arm.

Sure, he kept telling himself each time he came up with an excuse to have you over was for his mum’s company. It made him happy to see the smile on her face as she chatted with you, your laughter filling his otherwise quiet flat. But was it really for her company now, when it was just the two of you as he embarrassed himself?

Regretting what he thought was a brilliant idea, he glanced at you, absolutely horrified of being a hold up and ruining lunch.

You didn’t even look up from the pot you were stirring. “You know, I really don’t like doing the dishes. Would you like to help with that instead?”

A small sigh of relief escaped him as he dropped everything on the cutting board, thankful you spared the sliver of dignity he had left. He did most of the cleaning while he watched you. You said you weren’t the best cook, but your movements were serene, easy. You didn’t look like you were going to chop your fingers off, and to him, that made you far above decent.

Evidently, Melanie complimented the meal generously while Simon simply asked for a third helping. He beat you to the dishes after that, not allowing you to lift a finger after all the cooking you did.

At your door, you turned to him. “In case I don’t see you again before you ship out-“

“You will. I leave Thursday morning.”

“Oh.”

“Can I have your number?”

You handed him your phone and Simon Riley called himself from it.

“I’ll see you around, Simon.” You smiled at him.

Again, he only left when you’d closed your door. When he entered his flat, his mum looked up from wiping down the dining table.

She sighed softly. “How long am staying, Si? It’s been over two weeks now.”

“As long as you want, mum. I’d rather you here.” He walked over to her. “At least I know you’ll be safe.”

“What’s going to happen to your dad?”

“You wouldn’t let me bash his face in, and he’s not my dad. Not sure he ever was,” he said gravely. “I can’t tell you what to do, but I just need to know you’re safe. That’s all I’m asking.”

She turned away, the discomfort evident in her eyes. Simon knew the look to well.

“You need to leave him, mum,” he said under his breath.

“I think I’m going to stay a few more weeks, two months tops,” she finally said. “Until things settle. I’ll look for a job meanwhile.”

“You really don’t have to.”

“I want to feel useful, Si,” she reassured. “You’ve been too kind to me.”

“Never enough.”

When's the latest you can have dinner before it's not called dinner anymore? Simon texted you Monday afternoon.

Is this the premise to a joke?

He tilted his head. On second thought, it did sound like one of his dad jokes.

No, was a genuine question actually.

9, maybe. Why?

I'll be home before 7:30. Would it be okay to wait for me for dinner until then?

Who's cooking?

Takeout chef down the street. You pick who the lucky bloke is

You smiled as he stood at your door with takeout in hand. The way you looked at him made him question his clean shaven look that day. Did he look too much like an adolescent with no scruff?

Simon didn’t like making conversation, let alone with someone as sunny as you, but he was surprised to find that he wanted to put himself in a social situation with you. Still, he wasn’t used to it. He tried saying more, he really did, but the most he managed to tell was that he was an apprentice butcher back in Manchester before he enlisted, and that he was a currently a lieutenant in the SAS.

After dinner, you sat facing each other on your small couch sipping on tea, knees almost touching each other’s.

At this point, he noticed you didn’t look away as much as you did the previous instances. Either you’d got used to his unyielding stare or his attempt to appear less scary succeeded. You didn’t ask further about his job, and he hoped it was because you thought it was mostly confidential, not because you were afraid of him. That was alright though, you were far more interesting than his work anyway. He enjoyed watching the way you lit up talking about your interests.

Perhaps it was patronising how he wondered why you could be so much like sunshine in this bleak world, walking around like no one was going to break your heart. He found your generosity reckless, even foolish. Guilt pricked his heart for having these unsavoury thoughts, yet he was still utterly and shamelessly fascinated by your smile.

Despite him not wanting to leave, he excused himself for the night before it was remotely late.

“The day at the base starts early, yeah?”

He gave you a small smile. “Same time tomorrow?”

You nodded.

“Good night, luv.”

On his way to the lift, he knocked on the door of his own flat. His mum answered, clutching her cardigan close to her chest.

“Oh, Simon. I wasn’t expecting you.” She stepped aside. “Are you staying the night? I’ll get the bed-”

“No, ’m just dropping by.” He closed the door behind him.

“Did you need something? Have you had dinner yet?”

“I did, yeah.”

A knowing smile tugged on her lips. “Was it with someone I know?”

“Wanted to say good night and make sure everything’s alright.” A blush might have crept up his neck as he stepped in for a one-armed hug.

But the next night, Simon dropped by again before going back to base.

“Why are you here every day now?” Melanie looked at her son with a teasing smile. “I’m not complaining, but I thought you said you were too busy to come home.”

“Can I not want to see my own mum?”

“Sure, Si.” She gave him a playful side eye. “Let me see what ingredient I’m missing, in case you want to run to the shops.”

He groaned. “I’m shipping out Thursday. Wanted to take you somewhere nice for dinner tomorrow. Get yourself an outfit. Use my card.”

���How nice!” She beamed. “Is she coming with?”

He looked away. “I didn’t invite her.”

“Would you like to?” When he gave her an unsure look, she reassured, “I don’t mind at all. She’s sweet and I’m happy you’re meeting new people.”

Of course it didn’t take any convincing for him to invite you to his favourite steakhouse in the city. In fact, he very much looked forward to having another excuse to see you, especially dressed up. Not like you didn’t look nice, but thinking of taking you out made him giddy. He suddenly didn’t dread the med evals, trainings and briefings he usually detested before each deployment.

When he arrived at base, your reply waited.

Thank you so much for the invite. The place sounds lovely, but I don’t want to intrude. Have a nice evening you both!

His shoulders sagged. Can I at least see you after dinner?

Mrs. Riley beamed when Simon picked her up with a rose in hand. He didn’t remember ever seeing her so dressed up, and he was glad to have given her the opportunity to. She gushed over the delicious dinner, the wine and how polite the waiters were that it brought a bittersweet smile to his lips.

He could tell how much the evening meant to her, and it broke his heart that no one had cared for her that much in a very long time. He held her hand as they walked back to his flat.

“You be safe, Simon. I’ll be waiting for you,” she hugged him tight at the door as her voice wavered, her eyes brimming with tears.

He gave her a squeeze, feeling the emotions rubbing off on him. “Will do, mum. I’ll be home as soon as I can,” he said into her hair.

She gave him a kiss on the cheek before he headed to your flat.

Simon didn’t recall feeling this heavy upon shipping out in recent memory, but as you answered the door in your loose shirt and shorts, his arms ached to wrap around you. Instead, he shoved his hands in his trousers pockets.

“Would you like to come in?”

“I can’t,” he said. Because if I did, I wouldn’t want to leave.

You looked away, seemingly a little embarrassed by his rejection.

“May I ask why you didn’t want to come earlier?”

You stepped out into the corridor, closing the door behind you. “I feel your mum would appreciate it more if it’s just the two of you, that’s all.”

“Maybe next time with you then?” he asked hopefully. “Just us?”

You nodded and a smile blossomed on his lips in return. You both lingered a few more seconds in silence.

“I’m wishing you and your unit the very best on your mission. Please take care out there.” You cast your gaze down.

He caught the wobble in your voice and the sincerity was the push he needed. You barely had time to react to him stepping in for a hug. His arms encircled your frame loosely, but tightened as soon as yours wrapped around his waist. He curled over you, inhaling your scent as your breath tickled his neck.

The lack of distance only highlighted how much he towered over you. He was sure you could feel his racing heart under his turtleneck, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to hold you.

“Let me know when you’re back,” you said when he pulled away.

“’course.”

Simon very much looked forward to your texts whenever he had time to himself. While he asked you about your days, he unfortunately couldn’t say much about his. Instead, he sent you photos of the sunrise, or the shit cup of tea he was having. In return, you sent photos of the Hereford sunset and your meals. He said the kind of food he ate would ruin your appetite.

You told him his mum got a job at that bakery you loved – you knew the owner. On some days if her schedule allowed, you could walk back home with her. Simon thanked you for keeping her company, knowing how much she must have appreciated it.

The two weeks seemed to roll by a litter faster than usual. You were the first to know as soon as he was scheduled to fly back. He said he’d probably get home a late, but would love to see you if you had the time.

At his first knock, rapid footsteps came from behind your door which you swung open with a grin on your face. “You’re back!”

“May I come in?”

You made way for him, and when the door closed behind you, he stepped in, arms lifted a little. With a chuckle, you closed the gap, squeezing him tight.

“Are you available for dinner tomorrow?”

You pulled away. “No, going out with friends.”

“Oh,” he muttered. “Sunday then?”

“That’ll do.” You smiled, walking backwards to the kitchen. “Come, I’ll make us a cuppa. Co-worker gave me some oolong tea.”

His eyes softened. “Sorry, can’t stay long, luv. I’m going back to base.”

“But tomorrow is Saturday. I thought you stay home on weekends.”

“Yeah, but it’s too late now. I don’t want to bother my mum.”

You gestured at the couch with a chuckle. “I’d offer you this, but it’s way too small for you.”

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to bother his mum - he wouldn’t. He could get in and out the place without a sound, nor was your couch a problem. He could sleep on the floor and it would still be better than some of the places he’d had the pleasure to sleep in.

He wasn’t ready yet, especially not when he just got back, with his mind still reeling 1000 miles an hour.

“That’s okay. I can head back.”

Your brow rose at him. He understood how silly it was now, driving all the way to you at this hour to not even stay 15 minutes. It was embarrassing, if he was honest, how much he was transfixed on seeing you that he didn’t even think of the logistics of the visit.

“Sorry, I’m not a late sleeper. I’m dead tired and always sleep like a log the first night back.” His eyes flicked to your lips as he swallowed. “I’ll pick you up Sunday?”

You smiled. “Where are we going?”

“The same place. I think you’re going to like it.”

@tiredmetalenthusiast @shadofireshinobi @keegansshark @two-gh0sts @rowanyaboats @mangoguy @fruitymoonbeams-blog @ghostslittlegf @luvecarson @sparrowgalaxy @insert-weird-name @nocturnalreader106

[moonstruckme]

i’ve been craving summer a whole lot lately so i’d love to see what a summer day with tasm!peter would look like if you’re up for it!!

Thanks for requesting my love!

tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader ♡ 705 words

You come home expecting relief, sweaty and smelly and exhausted, but there is none. The apartment you share with Peter is as stifling as it was outside. 

You go straight to the fridge. Maybe there’s some water you can pour over yourself or frozen peas you can shove under your boobs or something. As soon as you pad into the kitchen, Peter’s head pokes through the window to the fire escape. 

“Hey,” he says, sounding about as peppy as you feel. “The A/C’s broken.” 

“I can tell,” you sigh. “Have you texted the landlord?” 

“Texted, called, faxed—he’s definitely ignoring me. I went to his unit, and I’m not sure if he’s out or just hiding, but if he doesn’t respond by tonight I’m going in through his window.” Peter lets his head loll against the window frame, face flushed as he looks up at you. He makes a very pretty puddle. “Kiss?” 

You smile ruefully. “It’s too hot for kissing.” 

He huffs a laugh. “Fair enough. There’s popsicles in the freezer, wanna grab a couple and join me out here?” 

You open the freezer, and your heart inflates like one of those lifejackets they keep on airplanes. Peter—brilliant, considerate, genius Peter—has invested in a giant bag of tube popsicles. You grab a red one for him and a green one for yourself and climb out onto the fire escape. 

“You’re so smart for these,” you say. He grins as you pass him one, taking scissors from the windowsill to cut the top off of yours before doing his own. Your calf rubs slickly against his as you slot your legs in between his own. You don’t mind as much as you should. “Why’re you out here?” 

“The alley gets a breeze,” he explains, closing his eyes and tilting his head back slightly, the encapsulation of a golden retriever in boy form. A whisper of wind catches in his fluffy hair, just barely ruffling it, but Peter grins like it’s the most satisfying thing in the world. “Feel?” 

“Gimme a sec.” You take the plastic covering of your popsicle between your teeth, freeing your hands to pull the hair off your neck and securing it with a ponytail. The sweat-slicked skin of your nape feels blissfully cool in the air, and your eyes slip closed too as you pull the popsicle from your lips. “Oh, yeah,” you sigh, “I feel it.” 

Peter’s silent, and when you open your eyes he’s giving you a look. Eyebrows raised just slightly, one corner of his mouth tilted up. 

“If you still think it’s too hot to kiss,” he says, “you’re going to have to stop being so hot.” 

You scoff. “Peter,” you say, like come on. “I was just putting my hair up.” 

“And you know what that does to me.” He takes a bite of his popsicle, crunching pointedly. 

“It’s hot,” you complain. 

“It really is,” he replies, with a grin that has you rolling your eyes. 

“I mean that I’m—that my neck is hot.” 

“Again, so true.” 

“Stop it.” You narrow your eyes seriously, pressing your lips together hard to keep them from quirking. “There’s nothing sexy about how miserable it is out here.” 

Peter hums noncommittally, raising one shoulder in a half-shrug before he leans forward to hook his hands under your sweaty knees. You laugh as he hauls you toward him, his knees caging your ribs. He purses his lips, and you succumb yourself to your fate, and then cool air kisses your skin. 

You open your eyes. “What are you doing?” 

“I think it’s pretty obvious,” he says, continuing to blow on your face. “Is it helping?” 

You take a second, letting yourself get used to the feeling of his air soothing over your damp brow. “Actually, yeah.” 

Your boyfriend grins, still puffing out air as best he can through his smile. It brings his sun-kissed cheeks up towards his eyes and makes his lashes kiss. 

You let yourself kiss him right there beside his eye, a token of your appreciation, but that’s not good enough for Peter. He taps your cheek, nudging you towards his lips, until you oblige him. 

“You’re my hero,” you tell him lightly. 

“Yeah, yeah, get in line.” 

[margareth-lv]

🏳️‍🌈 Every girl needs a gay best friend 🏳️‍🌈

Last week, I wrote a post here about the morbid shyness of a certain music manager.

My text was based on an interview Caitríona gave in mid-February 2018, shortly after her so-called 'engagement' and after she'd just won the Irish IFTA for her work on Outlander.

In the interview, Caitríona talked about how she met her fake fiancé. In the February 2018 version, Caitríona met her PA through one of her best friends.

So I decided to look into the subject of this "best friend" who brought the unfortunate music manager to Caitriona.

What I'm going to write today is, I think, 100% obvious to veterans of the fandom. But for those just starting out, I hope it'll be news. And I, well, I'm somewhere in the middle, between newbie status and more than three years of wading through the facts and the myths.

For me, the fun part has been reconstructing the chronology of events. The dates are interesting.

*** *** ***

The beginning of my story is quite surprising. Because we reach Caitríona's 'best friend' by clicking on a link in an article published in 'People Magazine' on 15 August 2019.

The article is entitled: 'Everything to Know About Caitriona Balfe's Super Private Relationship with Husband Tony McGill' and it tells us that: 'the couple tied the knot in England last weekend'.

😱

What excellent investigative journalists People Magazine have (bravo, bravo!), that in a twelve sentence article they could link to a post from Donal Brophy's Instagram.

👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

And look at this description:

"It’s unclear exactly when Balfe and McGill started dating, but the earliest evidence of their romance dates back to 2015, when a friend posted a video of her sitting on his lap at a bar in Ireland on Instagram. (McGill was not tagged and does not appear to have any social media accounts of his own.)"

🤯

Isn't that brilliant work from Starz/TPTB/whatever's PR Dept?

*** **** *** From the above it seems fair to conclude that the 'best friend' who brought Caitriona bad luck in the form of an unfulfilling music manager was Donal Brophy, because who else could it be?

*** *** ***

And now, let's take a quick look at the Instagram post (dated 1 January 2015) linked to the 'People Magazine' article. We all know it, of course! Here is the irrefutable proof of the passion between our two lovebirds: the rhythmic (and how sexy!) patting on the hip.

🥱

Well, hip-slapping is boring (and not at all sexy).

Far less boring, however, is the look on the music manager's face, the look that seeks Donal's approval (tell me I'm patting her well, do tell!). Could it be that, like the People Magazine link, this video was made to show? I wouldn't rule it out.

*** *** *** Now let's talk about dates: the sexy (not 🤢) slap on the hip was posted by Donal with a date of 1 January 2015, but two days earlier, on 30 December 2014, Donal shared another photo on Instagram featuring both the hapless music manager and Caitríona. ⬇️⬇️⬇️

Perhaps the decidedly less seductive and sensual appearance of the 'fiancée' in the December photo was the deciding factor in "People Magazine" not publishing a link to it?

Who could know?

*** *** ***

It certainly wasn't love at first sight. The new boyfriend seems rather tired of Caitriona's presence. 😉

I know this is a mischievous conclusion. I am so, so sorry, my friends.

❓

But one thing is for sure: Donal is an old friend of Caitríona.

I haven't done too much in-depth research, but the oldest photo I've been able to find of both Caitríona and Donal is… a photo in a Flickr album belonging to Caitríona's ex-boyfriend, Dave Milone. The photo is dated… 2002.

😨

You get the idea - Caitríona's ex (and real) boyfriend, Dave, Donal, and after many, many years a new 'fiancé'. It feels like my brain is exploding. 🤯🤯🤯

*** *** ***

But back to Donal: I have a feeling that Donal may have been Caitríona's +1 at times when she did not have an official boyfriend.

*** *** *** And let's not forget: Caitríona has a sweet and tender relationship with Donal.

June 2013, Miss you babe!

December 2013, Caitríona on IG:

December 2013, Donal on IG:

April 2014: They even went hiking together in the Scottish Highlands.

I wonder, by the way, who was their mountain guide? Was it an unfortunate music manager? I think not.

I would rather point to someone else, someone who loves (and knows!) the (S)cottish (H)ighlands. But I won't name him.

⛰️🧗🏻‍♂️

*** *** ***

For those who are unfamiliar with the name Donal Brophy, here are a few words about his professional profile:

You know, it works for me: "While in New York, Donal was also known for epic parties. Everything he organized automatically became a “must-attend” event for New York’s most with-it residents."

You know, that kind of vibe (2007):

😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

*** *** ***

Had he been Caitríona's false fiancé, it would have been easy for us to believe in the beautiful, loving bond that existed between them. But he was only the messenger of bad news. What wouldn't you do for your best friend?

❓

PS. Unless something has changed, Donal was married to Emrhys Cooper, a British actor, singer, dancer, and filmmaker. Together they run Idyllwild Pictures, an entertainment company.

Taken in July 2023:

[January 23, 2024]

[pluckyredhead]

hi! i'm new to comics and i got in through reading your fics and wayne family adventures. i've since started reading more of the mainstream verse and i realized that most comic fans consider wfa to be totally fanon. you're one of the few i saw that disagrees. would you mind elaborating a lil on why? i'm too new to really form an opinion either way but i'd like to know your's!

(also yes i really did stalk your blog back years worth of posts i'm sorry! 😭😭)

Aw I love this! Welcome!

So I think it's really important to be clear on definitions here:

Canon means it's part of an official text. It's literally in a comic (or book or movie or other property) published or licensed by DC.

Fanon means it's made up by fans. That doesn't mean bad or good, it just means that it comes from fandom and is not part of the official text.

Wayne Family Adventures is an official licensed comic by DC, so by definition, it cannot be fanon. That doesn't mean everyone has to like it, but it's not a fan comic. It's an official DC product. It's not fanon.

Now, WFA isn't part of the main DCU canon. It takes place in a separate universe. The Jason in Batman #138 and the Jason in WFA are not the same and they are having very different experiences. (And I'm sure the Jason in WFA would be grateful if he knew.)

But that's no different than a comic that takes place in an alternate universe, like Dark Knights of Steel or DCeased, or a movie like Blue Beetle or a show like My Adventures with Superman. They all take place in their own universes, but all of those universes are canon. None of them are fanon.

What I think most people mean when they say WFA is fanon is that WFA draws on tropes and characterizations that are popular in fandom. Which...yes, absolutely. This is on purpose, and honestly, it pisses me off when people complain about it. (Not you, anon! Your question was lovely, you just triggered my unskippable cut scene of dialogue. Sorry lol.)

Wayne Family Adventures is probably the single best idea DC has had in the 20 years I've been reading comics. (The second best was the kids and YA graphic novel lines.)

I just checked, and WFA has 1.3 MILLION subscribers. That's more than every floppy comic starring Batman sells in a month, combined. It's more than literally any superhero comic has sold in decades - in this century! The combined strips have over A HUNDRED MILLION VIEWS. That is bonkerstown. That is a readership like DC hasn't seen since the 1970s. That is unparalleled success, and it's introducing characters like Kate Kane and Duke Thomas to a whole new audience.

Now, WFA was clearly designed to appeal to Batfans who were active on social media and fanfic sites like AO3 and Wattpad, and Webtoon readers. The readership of Webtoon is mostly young and female. Fandom as a whole is mostly female. The writer of WFA is female.

And maybe I'm not being fair here, but when I see people dismiss WFA as "just fanon," I always catch a whiff of "It's not a real Batman comic. It's a girl comic for girls."

I have spent the past 20 years begging DC (and Marvel, DC is not alone in this) to see women as a viable audience - as their largest potential growth audience! I have watched in dumbfounded frustration as they ignored the juggernaut success of Raina Telgemeier and Ngozi Ukazu and Alice Oseman running rings around the NY Times bestseller list and counted a 50k shipment here and there as a resounding triumph. I have literally seen them throw out survey responses from women because "those women had an agenda." (This is a true story. 2011 was rough, y'all.)

And all of a sudden, they gave us a comic actually catering to women and young people and fandom, and they put it on the most popular, current, modern platform for comics availably - and it's brilliant. It's smart and funny and stunningly drawn and every episode makes clever, inventive use of the scrolling format. They FINALLY gave us a girl comic for girls, and it's a masterpiece.

And yes, it riffs on fanon concepts. It also has its roots firmly in mainstream DCU canon. It references deep cuts. CRC Payne and StarBite know their shit. Jason Todd being a bookworm may be a fanon staple, but he does plenty of reading - including Jane Austen - in the 100% canon mainstream DCU comics.

It's not going to be for everything, because nothing is. It's completely fine if you don't like WFA. No one has to read it or enjoy it. If you're into Batman for the darkness and the crime and the ongoing plotlines and the angst, WFA won't be for you, and that's totally fine!

But to finally, finally be valued as a reader by DC, to have them do something smart and innovative and so, so well executed, and have the exact people they made it for dismiss it out of hand because Bruce has a "World's Okayest Dad" mug or whatever? Yeah, that chafes.

[the-californicationist]

Guile & Guilt (Ch. 04)

Link to AO3

MDNI/18+

THE SAME DAY

Pidge offered to let you shower and change in her room so that you could be warm again and in clean clothes. You took her up on it, eager to feel the hot water and steam heat your skin.

Roger was already snoring, dead asleep on the sofa in the living room, and Johnny - or Soap, as Bekah had named him - disappeared into his room for a bit, looking for his own shower. He was absent while you and Pidge tried the cake samples from the Stiff Peaks bakery. She gushed about the flavors and the use of spices in the cake and its icing. You even got a few moans of culinary approval from Hamish whose high standards were impossible to reach. All in all, it felt like a success.

So why did you feel so empty? It was more than just the text from Bekah. There was some piece missing, something you got wrong and needed to fix. But, what could it be?

Johnny had confessed his feelings to you, and his kiss had felt… well, it had felt like a kiss should feel. It was the kiss that every young person imagined they might experience one day when the softness of someone else’s mouth finally found their own, their tongue icing the flesh of the other’s like a knife through a creamy, sugary glaze. The heat of their wet lips burning their edges, locked into a primal embrace of ownership and consumption, eating without feeling full. Devouring and yet becoming hungrier, increasing your appetite, gorging on the sweetness, until finally…

Johnny’s door popped open and he came to join you in the kitchen. His eyes went to you before eventually settling on Brigette,

“So? What’s the verdict, then? Dinnae meet the mark?”

“Sure,” Pidge smiled at him, “Right on target, you wee nugget. Good thing I sent you then.”

Johnny nodded to you, sitting in the bar stool next to yours at the kitchen counter. He gestured to you,

“She kept me in line, so she did. Would’ve gone for the chocolate myself.”

Pidge nudged you,

“Aye, what’d I tell you.”

You offered the other half of the cake to him, passing him your fork. He took it, cocking his smile into a mischievous grin,

“You’d have been proud of your wee hen here, Pidge. She made a pretty convincing bride. Might have to recruit her for our next mission. Be needin’ some espionage.”

Pidge laughed without even glancing up at him, her voice full of bitterness,

“So, havin’ you and da’ throw away your life on spyin’ wasnae enough. Should be my best friend, too?”

The whole room went cold. Johnny was mid-chew when he heard his sister’s comment, and he spat out the cake into a napkin in disgust. Pidge cut him off before he could say anything,

“Don’t forget to give little miss James Bond here a ride to her fitting tomorrow. I’m off for my shower,” she squeezed her brother’s forearm, seeming to understand that she had hit a nerve. He did not respond to her words nor her touch.

Johnny turned inward, closing off from conversation. You tried to coax him back out,

“Hey, here’s your phone. I think you missed a call.”

Without saying anything, he took the phone from you. He flipped through the message, and his expression remained unchanged.

“Gonna steal some of tha’ stew Hamish has been hidin’. You want in, thief?” He asked you, reaching for the pots and spoons before cracking open the freezer.

“Aren’t you gonna go to the pub?” You asked, trying to be as unbothered as possible.

He froze in place, holding the pot by its handle, locking eyes with you,

“No, not unless you wanted to do dinner with me, lass. Cravin’ samosas?”

It was a test. You had promised yourself you wouldn’t, but here you were, playing games. Could the party boy resist a party? You were about to find out.

“Yeah,” you nodded, “Maybe a little. We could get take away.”

“Brilliant,” he grabbed his keys and followed you to the door.

Now that night had settled in, it was too cold in the Jeep. You held your arms right to your body and tried to shield yourself from the wind. Johnny dug around in the back and dragged out a camo jacket with his name tacked onto the chest.

You put it on and it swallowed you, warming you up from the inside out. The fold of the collar flapped just under your nose, letting you smell his orange, woody scent. There was something else, too. Gunpowder. You smelled like fireworks and winter citrus.

“Thanks,” you said, wrapping it tighter around you.

“You make it look good,” his smile was bright and full of innocent praise, “Warm enough?”

You nodded, suddenly shy. You regretted your decision to drag him out of the house again. You should’ve kept him all to yourself, covetous and selfish like a hoarder, locking him in like a shorn Repunzel, playing like Circe with her pigs. But, you didn’t want to be Circe. You wanted to be Penelope. Permanent, as impossible though it may have been.

Was he Odysseus? Or Narcissus?

The car park was packed. He dropped you off at the door and you waited for him to find a spot in the back. He pulled the keys out of the Jeep and did a bit of a jog to catch up to you.

He commented on the crowd,

“Match is on. Rangers and Aberdeen. Whole town should be out tonight.”

You made a quiet noise in assent, not knowing enough about football to comment.

He held the gate open for you, and you walked through the smoky, crowded courtyard. Ettrick’s had tons of outdoor space, and the tall heat lamps made it cozy despite the nip in the air.

Inside, the noise hit you like a punch. It was a small space and the din was overwhelming. Warmth and bodies and smells tumbled over you like a wave. Johnny pulled a menu from the host stand, positioning himself as a barrier between you and the chaos.

He had to lean in close to you for you to hear him,

“Samosas, yeah? And we gotta do the chicken khorma. It’s top notch here, lass. Trust me.”

“Sure. Sounds good,” you smiled and watched him look around for the host.

Just as he rounded the corner, you heard a loud shout,

“MacTavish! You made it,” Lachlan’s voice carried through the crowded bar and you watched Johnny’s face light up in recognition.

He shook Lachlan’s hand and Bekah came up behind him, wrapping her arms in a tight hug, which he returned, just as tightly. They chatted together for a moment until you saw Lachlan look over Johnny’s big shoulder right into your eyes. He waved you over, and you tried to control your face. So much regret. But, you made your bed and now you had to lie in it.

“Hey, babes,” Lachlan and Bekah hugged you as well. The tall, handsome man made a point to leave his arm around your shoulder when you pulled away, “You can’t miss the game. We told Johnny you’re eating in, no complaints!”

“Yeah,” Bekah clung to Johnny’s heavy arm, “We’ve got plenty of room. Come have a seat.”

“Well…” Johnny started to make an excuse, giving you an out, but the look on his face was so earnestly disappointed that you interrupted him,

“Okay, thanks.”

You followed her to the table, and Johnny fell in behind. The waitress took your order. You watched the game, and you fell into a quiet lull. The room was bursting with energy, and you watched as Johnny slipped into the excitement. He fed off of the highs and the lows of the match. He barely touched his food, and you ate alone. He was right about the khorma. It was delicious. You wrapped up your leftover samosa and put it near his plate. He’d find it eventually.

You pushed your chair out and stood to leave. He turned to you and caught your hand. You stared at his hand and he stared down at it too, dropping it after a breath, forgetting himself for a moment,

“Where you off to, bonnie?”

“Ladies’ room. See you in a bit,” you ducked out of the crowd and into the bathroom for a moment, trying to get your thoughts together in the silence.

You washed your hands and avoided the mirror until you had to look. Then, there it was, the embroidered “MacTavish” across your chest, a little too ironic.

You took a deep breath and went back out into the fray. The Rangers scored, and Ettrick’s went wild. Bekah and Johnny held each other by the arms and screamed with joy into each other’s faces, nearly leaping over the table in celebration.

Johnny’s focus on her was so intense, the look in his eyes so full of fiery admiration, you could barely look at them. He could have Bekah. There were no rules against her like there were for you. You shouldn’t have had the nerve to even consider that he might choose you. How could he go against the wishes of his own sister? How could you?

You were right next to the back door, so you made your exit. It was a long walk back to his room, and you were nearly frozen by the time you got there. Rodger was still snoring away, and Pidge’s door was closed. So, you stripped down to just your shorts and a tank, and you crawled into bed, defeated.

TWO HOURS LATER

“There you are, mhèirleach! You had me worried sick,” the deep rumble of Johnny’s voice and his heavy weight shifting onto the mattress pulled you from your sleep.

You groaned, trying to deter his attention. He smelled like the bar, and himself, but mostly the bar. All you felt was guilt and shame and you wanted it to stop.

“Are you alright, lass? Why’d you go? I would’ve taken you back.”

“It’s fine,” you mumbled.

He didn’t reply. You fell back to sleep, starving for something you couldn’t eat.

…BEFORE MORNING

You awoke to a strong nose and jaw nuzzling your hair and neck, taking long deep inhales of your scent and breathing heavy. Johnny had his arm snaked up through the bottom of your shirt, his huge hand sticking out of the crew collar, holding you firmly against the base of your clavicle. His thumb was feeling the crescent curve where your throat met your body, over and over like he needed to memorize it. Like he wanted to find it again in the dark and know it was one and the same.

Was he awake? You couldn’t tell. You could tell, however, that his cock was pressing hard between your thighs, the fabric of your shorts shoved out of place by the fabric of his boxer briefs, straining against the thin cloth.

“A bheil thu milis, a mhèirleach?” Are you sweet, thief?

You decided that no, he wasn’t awake. He knew you didn’t speak Gaelic, and you had no idea what he was asking. Yet, your body seemed to. It recognized his aching timbre, its dark dulcet layers folding over your senses like silky caramel.

His hand retraced its path, sliding back through the valley of your breasts, exploring southward, finding the gaping waistband of your shorts and your lack of knickers under them. Upon discovery, his big body rocked into you, his thick rod riding into your thigh, begging for relief. A ragged, shuddering sigh left his lips and you felt it race across your skin.

“Feumaidh fios a bhith agam.” I need to know.

His words all slurred together. You were too busy melting under his hand to care for a translation. His wrist finally dipped low enough for him to slip one thick finger into your wet heat, soaking itself there like a wick in wax, coated and milky.

Your breath stalled. You couldn’t breathe in, nor out, and you felt your pussy clench around his knuckles, kissing his fingertip as he slipped it back out. Then, you watched as he slowly brought it to his lips, right next to your face, and you saw him feed himself with your slick, sucking it off of his skin, licking the knuckles of his fingers, eager for any missed drops.

Wild, crazed pleasure mixed with cold guilt in your chest. So, you called for help,

“Johnny?” Your voice was just above a whisper.

He breathed into your neck again, and then his tone changed. His language changed. He changed.

“Mm,” he whispered, “Sorry, thief. You stole my covers.”

With that excuse, he took some of the blanket from you and turned back over, breathing deeply again, leaving you there in a million little pieces.

+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+

Chapter 05

[kyberblade]

Give It To Me In Basic (Din x Reader)

A/N: This is just something that the premise came to mind when I listened to a song and I couldn’t let it sit. I wrote it in practically one sitting and just saw where it went - it was basically an exercise to stretch my writing muscles after a while away, and it felt really good! It’s incredibly sappy and domestic and I hope you like it. 🥹 (Not a part of my other series, this is an entirely new Din x Reader to me. Hi. Hello.) I also wanted to try writing in “she/her” instead of “you”, but this is still definitely an entirely blank reader insert. No physical descriptions are used. No mention of Y/N.

I do not own Star Wars or it’s characters. Sadly. But I carry them in my heart. Does that count for something? My soul says yes.

Summary: Din finds softness after a life of rigidity, and he’s not willing to let it go. (*Chandler Bing voice* Could I have been more vague?)

Warnings: Fluff? Like tooth rotting amounts of fluff and domesticity. Din being a sap. Grogu being the cutest thing you ever did see, and Din is once again a warning in and of himself in this one. Swearing. Mentions of typical show violence. Mando’a. Swearing. Mentions of pregnancy at the end. Some spoilers if you squint? (But if you’re here, you know how this works.) (No but like really, it follows the plot of season 2 and TBoBF, so mentions of that briefly, if you don’t want that spoiled, don’t read.) Helmetless Din. What? Who said that? 👀😬 Again: No mention of Y/N. (In fact this is written as “she/her” instead of “you”, but is an entirely blank reader insert.)

Word count: 1,206 (I know. I am as shocked as you are at how brief this is.)

Thanks to @fordo-kixed-rex for reading over this and sending me a caps locked series of texts as a response. And to @what-the-heckin-heck and @littlemisspascal for telling me it’s not too fluffy/sappy/much.

Masterlist

Xxx

There was a softness Din had come to know, grown familiar with, and let it entangle with his life like a well kept plant on someone’s warm windowsill.

It had snuck up on him when he’d least expected it. Not in the middle of a battle, or on some backwater planet, but in the quiet moments in between.

It had a heart unlike anything he’d ever seen. Something vibrant and larger than life, that welcomed him and his son with open arms and without a second glance.

The heart was worn on the sleeve of a woman, who by every standard was normal, nothing brilliant or captivating, but to Din she was everything. He couldn’t look away whenever she was nearby, her beauty both inside and out something that pulled him in with a force he didn’t understand.

Her touch sent shockwaves across his skin, the first time she shook his hand making him shudder even through his gloves. As time went on and he found himself lost in a darkened hull of the Crest, the woman at his side as they tangled further up in one another, his breath caught in his chest as her slight hand reached up to cup his cheek.

It wasn’t the touch of a lover, the sensuality of the trace of her fingers that stole from him. It was the closeness. The nearness. Something in the touch felt like home.

And he never felt at home again unless those hands were cradling him in some way, even through his armor. He’d lean into the touch, though he couldn’t feel it through his beskar, he swore he could. This was home. This is what he was trying to come back to.

Her laugh made him laugh. A foreign and buzzing feeling climbing out of his chest. Just the thought of it made him chuckle, shaking his head and telling his contact it was nothing, he was just amazed the bounty was so stupid.

Maybe it was selfish, but he didn’t want to share her with anyone. He’d found a little slice of happiness in this godforsaken galaxy, why did he have to let anyone else know about it?

When he lay on the ground, wind knocked out of him after an enemy had gotten a lucky hit, it wasn’t the sky above he saw, it was her eyes. They sparkled mischievously at him anytime she plotted her next move, often to get him to just relax. 

For years he’d seen calculating gazes, sneers, narrowed eyes of distrust and hate. He saw none of these with her. Only peace.

How ironic, he thought, getting back to his feet before causing carnage. To get back to the softness, there must first be all this chaos.

He saw it each time he came home. The light dulled just slightly in her eyes. She loved him just as much, if not more than before, but she longed to tell him while looking into his own eyes. She knew the Creed. She understood. Doesn’t mean it hurt any less. For either of them.

It was a night on the Crest, he woke with a start at the silence. He didn’t hear the child’s snores. Realization sunk in as he remembered the kid was with the Jedi. He was used to the silence as he slept, then he became used to the kids soft sounds, but they’re gone now. But slowly he eased back asleep, his eyes falling slowly shut when he realized she was there, in his arms, breathing deep and sound asleep…. His new familiar. He softly smiled as she started to snore.

Now the child was back in his care, and he was off to Mandalore to restore his honor, become a Mandalorian in the eyes of the Creed once more. His new ship had no room for anyone other than himself and Grogu, so he made arrangements to leave her on Navarro with Karga. 

After a private goodbye, where he saw the disappointment she would never voice once again painting her features, he set the ship to ascend up into the atmosphere. Once he was just above the clouds, he made a last minute decision, hailing her on her comm as he made a loop to come back around under the cloud cover.

“Look up,” was all he would say. 

But as he made a final pass by, just under the clouds without his helmet, he could see her on the ground, her smile like a beacon for miles around. From this distance the only thing she could really see clearly was his smile, but that was everything.

Her breath stuttered over the comm. “Meh'shab? Me'dinuir…. Ranov'la. Me'dinuir…. Mesh’la.” (“The fuck? To share…. Secret. To give each other…. Beautiful.”)

Din laughed. “Wanna try that again?”

She huffed. “Sorry. Ori'meshla.” (“Very beautiful.”)

Din snorted out a laugh.

She sighed, her words coming out barely above a breath. “Stars, I hope our ad has your smile.” (“Child.”)

Din paused, about to pull up on the controls. “What?”

“Wayii! Did I say that out loud?” She looked up to see Din circling lower and lower. “Don’t you dare land, Din Djarin.” The N1 was getting lower still as she spoke. “I mean it. You have planets to save. People to meet and-” The exhaust of the starfighter sent her hair every which way, her face scrunching up against the gust. “What was I thinking you would do, I don’t know?” The last words were mumbled into Din’s chest plate, his arms pulling her into him as soon as he was back on the ground. (Exclamation of surprise)

“Are you….?” His voice was barely above a whisper, his modulator popping with the lack of sound behind it.

She nodded into his beskar. “Yaihadla.”

“As much as I love you speaking Mando’a, just give it to me in Basic. My brain isn’t working properly right now-”

She tilted her head back to look up into his visor, her voice soft. “I’m pregnant, Din.” Her eyes scanned over his helmet, searching for purchase. “You’re gonna be a dad, Djarin.” Grogu squealed from the cockpit of the N1, pulling her eyes over toward the tiny green ward, and a smile up her face. “Well, again. You’ll be a dad, again.”

Din froze for a moment before reaching up and ripping his helmet off, immediately pulling her into a searing kiss. Her muffled sounds of surprise melted away after just a moment, her arms coming up around his neck to pull him closer still, and causing his lips to pull up into a smile against her own. Finally breaking the kiss, he leaned his forehead against hers, both of them breathing heavily.

“Careful,” she teased, “that’s how we got into this situation in the first place.”

Din just shook his head in amusement at her, chuckling, and never removing his forehead from hers. Looking up through his lashes, he found her already doing the same to him. “Hi,” he muttered quietly.

“Hi,” she replied on a breath, making his smile pull higher still. “Osik,” she continued on a breath, going on when he cocked his head to the side, pulling back just slightly. “I really hope they get your smile.” (“Shit.”)

Xxx

Everything Tags: @lam-ila @oliviajdjarin @peonyophelia @itsavicf @jxvipike @momc95 @babygirlrex0504 @harriedandharassed @burningfieldof-clover @theclassicvinyldragon What’s This?

[mind-empty-just-fictional-people]

Facetime

Masterlist

Summary: You and Dean facetime whenever he goes on a hunt, but things go south when he and Sam are miles away

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader 

Rating: R for language, violence

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: language, blood, violence, torture, hostage situation, implied nudity, injured reader, mind control, starts off fluffy but gets real dark real quick, reader is a fan of Chris Evans

Author’s Note: This is loosely based on a dream I had and I know this gif is Dean looking at a coffee maker, but if you squint the coffee maker looks like a laptop :) Also, I don’t usually use capital letters (intentionally, but for no particular reason) but I thought I’d see how my writing looks with capital letters.

gif source

“Dean I don’t think your mic’s working,” You furrowed your brows in frustration, trying to tell him you couldn’t hear a word he was saying.

“Yeah it was off, that makes sense,” He laughed lightly. You smiled, happy to hear his voice and see his face. Sam and Dean had been on this hunt for nearly four days at this point and you missed your boyfriend so much it was driving you crazy. 

You weren’t much of a hunter; you preferred to keep a safe distance and help with research, instead of picking up a machete and chopping up vampires. Dean knew you preferred to stay home and he was happy with you being out of the line of fire. He’d hate himself if he let you get hurt on a hunt, you were his everything.

It was hard, though. You lived in the bunker but you still didn’t spend as much time with Dean as you would’ve liked to. You wanted to be with him each night instead of falling asleep to either his music playing on vinyl or his voice over the phone if you were lucky enough to be in the same time zone. Most of the time you’d go days without hearing his voice. 

That was until Sam had the brilliant (but blatantly obvious, you couldn’t believe you hadn’t come up with it) idea of you and Dean facetiming while doing research for the case; as opposed to just texting each other important details. 

“So, what’re you hunting?” You asked. Your laptop was set up next to your phone which is what you were calling Dean from. You were seated in the library and eager to help however you could. 

“Sam’s thinking a god,” Dean sighed. “He’s out getting the food.”

“And you’re doing the research?” You laughed. 

“Well, I wanted to talk with you, and see that beautiful face of yours,” He smirked. “Sammy can do the actual research when he gets back, should be soon.”

“I miss you,” You smiled, he did the same.

“I miss you, too, hun. How’re you doing? Cas is gonna get back home tomorrow morning so you won’t have the whole bunker to yourself for much longer.”

“It’s really lonely,” You laughed wryly. “As an introvert, I swore never to say this, but I kinda wish more people lived here.”

“Yeah, I know it’s... it’s not ideal,” He gave you a sympathetic look. “Y’know there’s a library in town you could go to if you don’t wanna be alone.”

“Yeah, I think I’m gonna head over there. I don’t know what’s wrong with me tonight, I’m really starting to go stir-crazy!” 

“Wanna stay on the phone while you drive over there?” Dean asked hopefully.

“Of course!” You emphasized. “I’m so happy I finally get to talk to you for the first time today! I’m just gonna change into something more presentable real quick.”

“It’s 2pm on a Tuesday and you’re going to a public library; who are you thinking you might run into?” He teased lightly.

“Hey if I go not looking my best and Chris Evans just happens to be there I would kick myself!” You replied honestly. “Gimme a second.” You put the phone on your dresser and faced it away from where you would be changing.

“Y/n, I’ve seen you naked, you can change in front of me!” He sighed dramatically when you didn’t respond right away. “C’mon, I miss you!”

“You only get to see these boobs when you hurry up, finish that case, and get your ass back here!” You called out to him as you got dressed.

“That’s no fair,” Dean whined. You finished getting dressed pretty quickly and grabbed your phone off your dresser and your purse off your desk before you left the room.

“Okay I’m heading out now,” You smiled at your phone as you walked up to the entrance of the bunker.

“Which car are you taking?” Dean asked. 

“Mine; it’s parked outside, not in the garage. why?”

“Just wanna know you’ll be safe getting there. A lot of the cars in the garage tend to break down at random,” He replied. You hopped into your car and set your phone on the stand that was attached to the front window. 

“Ah, shit,” You winced suddenly, your hands now pressed against your temples. “De, something’s wrong-” You croaked out. Your head felt like it was going to explode as your vision began getting blurry. 

“Y/n? Y/n, talk to me! What’s happening,” Dean exclaimed, his voice ripe with panic. 

The pounding in your head suddenly stopped as your vision went black and you passed out. 

Your head was throbbing as you woke up. You tried bringing your hands to your head but then realized you were tied to a chair. You then also realized you were wearing nothing but a bra and your boy-short panties. 

“What the fuck,” You mumbled to yourself. You tightened your fists and pulled against the restraints.

“It’s no use, y/n,” A voice behind you announced. “You’re not going anywhere anytime soon. who knows, you might even die here.”

**

“Y/n? Y/n!” Dean exclaimed. He was completely panicking as he watched your car door open and someone pull you out of the driver’s seat. 

“Dean Winchester!” The man picked up the cell phone and showed Dean his face; complete with hideous black eyes. “Looks like I now have the thing you care about most,” The demon laughed. 

“You son of a bitch,” Dean screamed. “You hurt her and I swear I will-”

“What? What’re you gonna do Dean? Kill me? You don’t know where I’m taking her and I’m dumping this meat suit before you get the chance to figure out this guy’s name. No, you can’t do anything, Dean. You are completely and utterly powerless. I have the bitch you seem to love so much, and there’s nothing you can do.”

“What do you want?” Dean seethed through gritted teeth. He slammed his fist on the table next to him. “What do you fucking want?”

“To watch you suffer,” The demon smirked then hung up.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean screamed. He grabbed the chair he was sitting on and threw it to the side in frustration.

“Dean, what the hell?” Sam exclaimed. He had walked in right as the chair hit the wall. “I take a little too long getting the burgers and you start breaking the furniture?” He laughed lightly. 

“Y/n,” Dean shouted. “A demon has y/n!”

“What the fuck? How? When?” Sam’s eyes widened.

“Just now, we- we were facetiming and she was gonna go to the library- and she- it just took her Sam- I-” Tears welled in Dean's eyes as he looked at his younger brother with desperation. 

**

“What do you want from me?” You asked the demon. He was now kneeling in front of you as he toyed with your hair. 

“Nothing, sweetheart,” He smiled wickedly. “You see, you are very important to Dean Winchester; I hate Dean Winchester. I want him to suffer. Having you locked up in here is the easiest way to torture him. He’ll find you eventually, I’m sure, but you’ll be so broken and beaten you won’t ever be the same. You’ll never be his cheerful y/n again. You’ll be worn down by what I'm going to do to you, you’re not going to want to be anywhere near him. And that will break his heart beyond repair - that will be the ultimate torture. I'll be known as the demon who destroyed Dean Winchester’s will to live.”

“You’re wrong,” You whispered. “Dean cares about me, sure, but losing me isn’t gonna break him, you idiot! He'll be over me within a few months then he will hunt you down and tear you limb from limb.”

“Maybe,” The demon shrugged. “Guess we’ll just have to wait and see how long it takes him to get over you.” He pulled a knife out of his back pocket and plunged it into your thigh. You screamed in pain as tears streamed down your face. You looked down at the blood now dripping down your thigh then looked back up.

“D-Dean?” You whispered. “Wh-What’s going on?” Your head was spinning as you tried to focus on the man in front of you. “Dean! Dean, you found me?”

“Yeah, hun, it’s me,” The demon held your face with his hands. 

“H-Help me out of here,” You quivered, confused as to why Dean was so calm. He shook his head, smiled, then gripped the knife and twisted it. “Y-You’re not Dean!”

“Of course I am, y/n! And I'm so happy I finally get to show you how I really feel about you,” He smiled. He took the knife out and pressed it against your left breast. “You know I never really cared much about you, you’re just an easy lay.”

“You’re not Dean,” You closed your eyes tightly. “Dean loves me.”

“Awe, that’s really sweet y/n, but of course I'm Dean! And I wouldn’t say I love you, more like I love having my own pathetic fucktoy handy at all times,” He patted your cheek. “I mean, let’s face it; all we do when I'm not hunting is have sex! Why else would I want you living with me?”

“That’s- That’s not true!” You whispered, more to yourself than to the monster posing as the love of your life. “We have movie nights, we bake pie, we have dinner together, we-”

“Do we?” He touched your temple with two fingers. “Dean never did any of that with you.”

“Y-You never did any of that with me,” You mumbled.

**

“Days, Sam! It's been days!” Dean shouted. “Y/n is still with that fucking demon!”

“I know it’s been days, Dean but you need to sleep. Just four hours; recharge and come back with a clear head.”

“Do you think y/n is able to sleep? Or have a second of peace or quiet! She is being tortured by a demon, because of me!”

“Cas will be back with some information in a few hours, until then you should sleep,” Sam suggested. “Look, we’ve done all we can for right now, you’re no use to y/n if you’re too tired to function!”

Before Dean could protest, his phone rang and he answered; “Hello?”

“Dean Winchester,” the voice replied.

“Yes? Who is this?”

“I’m the demon that’s got y/n,” He replied. Dean could hear the smirk in his voice.

“I swear to God I will find you and-”

“And you’ll kill me, blah, blah, blah; you’ve said that before. I'm just calling to let you know you can have her back. I'll text you the address.” The demon hung up.

“What-” Dean brought his phone down, confused. “That was the demon, he said he’s texting me the address where y/n is,” He told Sam.

“What? That makes no sense?”

“Yeah, but he wasn’t lying,” Dean held up his phone and showed Sam the text. 

“It’s definitely a trap, right?”

“Doesn't matter, let's go; we can meet Cas there.”

“Dean, that's at least a six-hour drive; let me drive so you can sleep,” Sam offered. Dean was ridiculously tired and he knew he wasn’t at his full strength so he decided to take a nap on the way.

**

“Y/n! Oh my god!” Dean exclaimed when he walked into the dark warehouse and saw you tied to the chair.

“Sam?” You breathed out. “Cas?” You smiled slightly, barely lifting your head. 

“Hey- Hey hun,” Dean crouched down and held your face.

“What, now you’re all sweet?” You scoffed, then looked past him and up at his younger brother. “Sam, please help me! Dean, he- he did this to me.”

“What? No! No, no, I would never! I love you," Dean stuttered, not taking his eyes off you. He untied your right hand and you punched the side of his head, which caused him to fall to the side. 

“Cas! Please! You guys have to believe me!”

“It's okay, you’re safe now,” Cas came up to you. He put two fingers on your forehead and healed you. “We’re gonna take you home, okay?”

“Okay,” You replied as the angel untied you. Sam looked around for your clothes and, surprisingly, found them off to the side and folded neatly. Cas helped you up as Sam handed you your jeans and shirt, and you happily put them on. Dean was standing up at this point, but he just stood there; silent tears falling as he looked at you. 

“Y/n- Hun, please- please tell me you know this wasn’t me!” He whispered, you looked over at him. “Please you- you know it was a demon!”

“Oh and where is this demon now, Dean?” You asked flatly, Dean stayed silent. “You know, I fucking trusted you!” Tears escaped your eyes and you brushed them away quickly. You continued, gritting your teeth in anger, “I hate you.” 

“Let’s get you home,” Sam interrupted, he knew Dean didn’t do this and he needed to figure out how to make you know too. You nodded and followed Castiel out the door, Sam followed you and, after a moment, Dean did too.

Cas opened the back door for you while Sam opened the passenger door. 

“Sam, can you drive?” You asked him quietly. “Please? I know you don’t believe me about Dean, but I don't trust him; please don’t let him drive.”

“Sweetheart, I-” Dean started, overhearing what you said to Sam.

“Don’t you dare call me that,” You hissed and pointed your finger at him with anger. You turned back to Sam, “If it was up to me, I’d say cuff him; but at least don’t let him be the fucking driver!” With that, you hopped in the back seat, Cas doing the same after you.

Dean took the demon cuffs out of his back pocket and handed them to Sam before holding his hands behind him.

“Seriously?” Sam scoffed.

“I want her to feel safe,” Dean replied. “Well, as safe as she can feel while I'm still in proximity.” Sam nodded and cuffed his older brother before they both got into the car; Sam in the driver’s seat.

**

“You really don’t believe me?” You practically screamed. You were all back at the bunker and Sam was refusing to lock Dean up in the dungeon.

“It's not that I don’t believe you-”

“Then do something!”

“Sam, Dean, can I talk to you?” Cas asked and the three went around the corner, you huffed to yourself and sat at the war room table. “There’s something really wrong with y/n.”

“Yeah, Cas, we can tell,” Dean replied.

“No, I mean, really wrong! When I healed her at the warehouse, I could feel something pushing back.”

“What do you think that means?” Sam asked.

“I think we need to call Crowley. He’s had a soft spot for y/n for a while now, maybe he’ll know what’s wrong.”

“Yeah, great! Let another demon get their hands on her,” Dean scoffed sarcastically.

“Crowley isn’t just ‘another demon’ Dean; he might be able to reverse whatever’s happened here!” Castiel retorted. 

“Fine, fine we’ll give him a call,” Dean sighed. The three of them walked back around the corner but you weren’t sitting at the table anymore. “Y/n?” Dean called out, beginning to panic.

Sam rushed outside while Dean checked your bedroom and Cas checked the garage.

“Y/n, what’re you doing?” Dean asked. You frantically threw clothes into your duffle and didn’t answer him. “Sweet- Uh, sorry- y/n please,” Dean stumbled over his words.

“I’m leaving Dean, and I never want to see you again!” You exclaimed and tried to brush past him. He gently gripped your forearm to pull you back and your demeanor changed. “Please, please don’t hurt me,” You whispered; tears welled in your eyes as Dean’s widened. He let go of you and put his hands up, backing away.

“No, no I- I’m not going to hurt you, y/n, I wanna help you,” He said calmly. “We all do. Please, don’t go.”

“Why are you being so sweet now, I don’t understand,” You let the tears fall. “Is it just cause of Sam and Cas? Is that it? You’d like to take out your knife and get back to work but you don’t want your baby brother and your best friend to see you torturing me?”

“I- I don’t know what to say, y/n,” He replied, also letting tears fall. “I swear that was not me!”

“Right, right it was a demon,” You scoffed. “Seriously, Dean? The least you could do is own up to what you did, for fuck’s sake! But I guess I should’ve seen this coming, huh?”

“What’re you talking about?”

“You only ever cared about my body, Dean! Was just a matter of time before you got bored and used what Alastair taught you!”

“What? Y/n we’ve known each other for ten years, we’ve only been dating the last two! We didn’t even sleep together the first four months because we wanted to take it slow; do you not remember any of this?”

“Does this actually work on people?” You laughed. “You fake a few tears, look at them with lost puppy eyes, and try to make them believe such ridiculous lies?”

“Y/n!” Castiel called out from behind you. He had checked the garage and when he didn’t see you there he decided to check the kitchen and then head over to your bedroom.

“Castiel, please get me out of here!” You hurried to his side. “Dean won’t let me leave!”

“No- I-” Dean tried to protest but then just shook his head in defeat, not wanting to make things worse.

“We have a working theory going about what happened,” Cas lied to you. “We think Dean may have been possessed before, and the demon that possessed him may still be looking for you. You should stay here in the bunker where it’s safe, okay?”

“Okay, Cas, I trust you,” You clung to his arm, still terrified of Dean. 

“Dean, why don’t you get Sam and meet me in the dungeon in a few minutes,” Cas asked him. “Y/n, you can stay in your room until we know more.”

**

It took Crowley a couple of days to figure out what the demon did but once he did, he called Dean and was summoned to the bunker.

“It’s a hex bag,” He said before his trademark, “Hello, boys.”

“A hex bag? Where?” Sam asked. “She’s changed clothes, we’re nowhere near the warehouse-”

“According to Frank-” 

“Frank? The demon’s name is Frank?” Dean scoffed.

“Yes,” Crowley rolled his eyes. “Anyway, Frank said he carved it into her thigh.”

“Good Lord,” Sam muttered. 

“How do we get it out?” Dean asked Crowley. “We can’t just cut back into her!”

“That’s exactly what we’re going to do,” Crowley replied.

“No! She’s already terrified we can’t-”

“I can put her to sleep,” Castiel suggested. “She shouldn’t feel a thing.”

“Well, let’s get this over with,” Crowley walked out of the dungeon and over to your room.

“What’s he doing here?” You glared at Dean when the four men entered your bedroom. You had been seated on your couch reading when Crowley knocked and opened the door.

“Dean, maybe you should wait outside,” Sam told him quietly. Dean nodded slightly and backed out of the room.

**

“She’s asking for you,” Sam smiled a little, walking into the library to find Dean downing another glass of whiskey.

“Seriously!? She wants to see me?” He practically jumped out of the chair and then hurried to your room. He took a deep breath and opened your door.

You were at the edge of your bed with one knee tucked against you. When Dean entered, you looked at him with tear-stained eyes and let a quiet sob leave your lips. 

“I’m so sorry,” You whispered. “De, I’m so, so sorry!”

“No, no, no it’s- none of this is your fault,” He hurried to your side but hesitated to wrap his arms around you. “Can I… Can I hug you? Please?”

“Of course,” You replied and wrapped your arms around him when he held you. “I love you so much, Dean, I’m so sorry I believed the demon.”

“It’s not your fault, it was a hex bag,” He kissed the crown of your head. “You didn’t have a choice.”

“I know, but I should’ve been able to snap out of it!” You protested. “I mean, these hands,” You took his left hand and held it, kissing his palm gently. “I love these hands, how could I have believed that they, that you hurt me?” You kissed his hand again then looked up at him. “I’m sorry, for what I said.”

“It’s okay,” He kissed your forehead. “I’m just glad you’re okay, that you’re back.” The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a while before Dean asked you, “How are you feeling?”

“Physically? Fine. Emotionally? Fucking terrible,” You replied, squeezing Dean tighter. “I keep getting these like flashbacks about what the demon did, and in a lot of the memories the demon still looks like you.”

“I’m sorry sweetheart, that sounds awful!”

“Yeah,” You sighed. “I'll be okay though, I’ve got you.”

[marlenesluv]

(Oscar/gn anon) awesome thankyou! I can't choose, but i reckon a smau maybe with some short fic snippets if that's not too much :) otherwise a normal smau is great :))

Softies. (OP)

yeah, of course! and yess, i love smau’s with fic snippets. i’ll definitely write this :))

request: “hey! I love your work, but can't really relate to the beautiful woman reader. would you be able to do an Oscar piastri/gender neutral Australian archaeologist living in the UK fic? maybe first time at a race/being introduced to some of the grid, or a casual soft launch on insta? but anything you want is also brilliant! pure fluff please, i love the idea of him being proud of me/talking about me a lot. please no fc/physical description, and he calls me his partner not gf/bf. if you write anything I'll love it, but no pressure!!! thankyou!!!”

pairing: oscar piastri x gn!reader archaeologist

fc: none! j pinterest pics used (no physical descriptions)

note: sorry this took me a bit, ive been having a lot of recs! also, i said people were staying in hotels in monaco and ik most drivers live there, but for the plot let’s pretend not, okay?

masterlist here -> masterlist link

^ check my list for all posts! ^

going to oscar’s races when you were busy with work, was difficult. luckily, your boss thought your recent discoveries were out of this world and rewarded you with extra time off. and of course, you texted oscar immediately, knowing that he would want you to go to his next race, which is also what you wanted.

the grid loved you, but you hadn’t released your relationship yet to his fans. oscar had never had a partner before, at least not while he was in formula 1. so you were nervous, and you guys wanted to soft launch over this weekend.

later that night, you packed your bags on facetime and flew out to monaco for the grand prix. living in the uk was great, it’s how you met oscar! but you had always wanted to visit monaco.

before arriving though, you wanted to post a little something on instagram.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by: oscarpiastri, danielricciardo, and 198,024 others

y/n.user: i wonder..🇲🇨🧐

view comments…

formula1updates: is y/n going to monaco for the gp??

charles_leclerc: ratatouille!!

↳ y/n.user: i love ratatouille!

↳ charles_leclerc: me too!

user8: i wonder if they are gonna be in a paddock?

↳ f1wags: 🤔🤔

archeologyfinds: my fav archeologist is going to an f1 race??????

yourbsf: the food🤤

↳ y/n.user: it was soooo yummy

f1editpage: can’t wait to see you on the paddock!! (cuz we all know that they will be, lolzie)

↳ user3: what, you think y/n is dating someone in the grid??

↳ f1editpage: honestly, yes. y/n seems to be extra close with charles and oscar, i’m having suspicions

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

after landing, you got into the uber black that oscar had called for you, and made your way to his hotel.

at first, you were nervous to be seen by fans going into the hotel. just two hours ago, all of the drivers pictures were plastered on twitter, instagram and tiktok of the hotels they were seen entering. and only oscar and lando were in the maybourne riviera hotel, meaning that people’s suspicions could be confirmed if they saw you.

“oscar, what if they see me? and if they don’t like me? oh my gosh, what if-“ you were rambling in your shared room oscar has requested. one bed, a living room, a beautiful water view, and of course, a huge bathroom and kitchen.

“y/n, take a breath. its okay. i don’t care what anyone thinks, you’re my partner, not theirs. besides, i want them to know that i’m taken.” oscar smiled, giving you a hug as you sighed into his chest.

as he pulled away and gave you a kiss on the forehead, he went to pick up the phone, “pick out what you want for dinner. we’ll stay in tonight and watch your show.”

not sure if you could have asked for a better boyfriend, you scanned the menu and pointed to what you wanted as he ordered the food to the room.

“alright, let me tell you how much i love you while you eat your pasta, mmk?” he raised a brow and cuddled up next to you as you giggled. “okay, osc.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by: landonorris, y/n.user, and 217,980 others

oscarpiastri: p3 in quali in monaco, lfg🧡🇲🇨

view comments…

piasstri.fp: THE SECOND PIC?

↳ f1fp: FR. WHO TOOK A SHIRTLESS OSCAR PIC?

↳ piasstri.fp: hes GOTTA have a partner, bro. i’m srs

landonorris: congratulations, man!! let’s pole and podium this!!

↳ oscarpiastri: thank you, landoooo! congrats on p2. we’ll do so good 💁‍♂️

user1: congratulations on the p3 and the partner! (it’s obv pls just tell us who)

y/n.user: mclaren 🔛🔝

↳ oscarpiastri: 🧡🙏

↳ landonorris: ohhhh yeahhhhh

y/n.editpage: is that y/n y/l/n??? WTF MY WORLDS COLLIDE

mclaren.fansss: LETS GO

user6: you’ll win🤗

danielricciardo: congratulations, oscar!!!!!

↳ oscarpiastri: thank you, dan!!!

wagupdates: vv suspicious picture there, oscar

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

qualifying was amazing for oscar. he got p3 and couldn’t be happier. i mean, he did say he could i he had gotten p1, but he was over the moon when he got p3.

after qualifying, came race day. which also happened to be the day that oscar wanted to announce your relationship on instagram after the race.

what oscar didn’t tell you, was that he would in fact be kissing you after he won. which he did.

he finally won a race as a rookie, and you couldn’t be prouder. your heart was full as you were standing by zak, waiting to congratulate oscar.

what you didn’t expect, was for him to run to you first, giving you the biggest hug and a kiss, earning hoots from his team and a slap on the back from lando, who came in p2.

“oscar!” you shouted, smiling as he but his lip and smilied. “i’ll see you in a bit!” he shouted back, running to the podium, hoping on the first place one.

zak laughed, warning your attention, “what?” you asked, suddenly a little shyer than before. “nothing. just couldn’t wait for you two too finally make it official.”

“oh…wait- what do you mean ‘finally’?” you stared wide eyed as zak rolled his eyes, “y/n. everyone in mclaren knows. hell, im pretty sure the whole grid knew!” zak left to go stand on the podium with oscar as you looked around.

when they got their trophies, you laughed and watched oscar spray lando with the champagne, and then spraying some charles, who got p3.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by: oscarpiastri, carlossainz55, and 204,249 others

tagged: oscarpiastri

y/n.user: congratulations, babe🧡

view comments…

oscarpiastri: i love you❤️

↳ y/n.user: i love you too❤️

formula1updates: HOLD UP. I SHIP

landonorris: they finally made it official, ladies and gents!!

↳ oscarpiastri: get your own partner and then you can FINALLY stop coming on our dates

↳ y/n.user: we look like a family when you come with, lando. pls get a partner

↳ landonorris: no. im happy with third wheeling

user4: AHHHHH IT HAPPENED EVERYONE STAY CALM

piastripage: OSCAR HAS A PARTNER?? who are they??

↳ y/n.fanpage: y/n is an archaeologist! they are amazingggg. loveeeee

user9: you guys are the cutestttt. my friends and i saw you in the paddock!!

paddockgirlies: need me an oscar. he’s so boyfriend

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by: y/n.user, lewishamilton, and 219,240 others

oscarpiastri: my partner is so smart, they know archeology stuff 🏛️🤗

view comments…

y/n.user: osc🥹🫶

↳ oscarpiastri: 🫶🫶

f1updates: and the most supportive bf award goes toooo🏆

lilymhe: cutiessss

y/nandoscarship: the way he went with them to a work trip? the bar is so high for me now

user4: okay, we get it, you guys are adorable

mclareneditpage: plzzz i need me an oscar

user8: the way y/n calls him ‘osc’🥹🥲

pastry81: my favorite couple on the grid now, thx

danielricciardo: y/n is a better australian than you

↳ y/n.user: this means a lot coming from you, thank you

↳ danielricciardo: you are welcome 🤗🤠🇦🇺🦘

↳ oscarpiastri: oh😕🥲

user1: pretty pictures oh my goshhhh

f1editttt3: where r they??

↳ y/nfp: athens!!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

(reposts, comments, and likes are appreciated!^-^)

[s0lam33y]

gone girl (Shuriri week: comfort)

a/n: I stay posting these sleep fics but listen, bro...I'm sleep-deprived okay? Damn. @shuririweek @neptoons1998 @mal-urameshi

“Come here,” Riri murmurs, half asleep as she pats the space in front of her. She notices the small gulp in Shuri’s throat as she stands by the doorframe. They hadn’t spoken since their morning, and after a short argument in the lab, they both needed space from each other. Shri had been rather snappy and refused to open up about anything.

“Shuri, come lay down.” She orders her voice just as soft but with some added firmness. Shuri feels ridiculous, she’s no child but here she is close to tears as she walks towards Riri. They’re arguing still and Shuri feels horrible. It feels like she’s manipulating her, forcing her to feel bad. 

Riri swears she hears the faintest sniffle.

“What’s wrong, mama?” Riri questions as she watches Shuri enter the room.

“Baby, please.” Riri pleads and the softness In her tone is all it takes for Shuri to finally settle in next to her. She lays on her side and faces away from her girlfriend. She’s stiff as a rock, the tenseness in her bones heightening by the second. 

“Relax, mami. You’re too anxious.”  Riri whispers, her voice laced with sleep that Shuri wishes would comfort her. She craves reassurance but she doesn’t feel deserving of it.  A soft hand moves below the hem of Shuri’s shirt and rubs at the hard muscle covered by soft skin. She feels Riri’s chin set in the crook of her neck. 

“Stop torturing yourself, sweetheart,” Riri speaks into her skin. It makes the Royal freeze. 

“It’s nothing,” Shuri exhales so Riri chooses not to mention it directly. People often tell them that the pair are very similar, both extremely brilliant and sometimes stubborn. They understand each other but they’re very different. They handle things differently, Shuri tends to bottle up her feelings while Riri likes to tackle them before they manifest.

“It’s okay. You’re human, we’re going to argue and just because we do, doesn’t mean I don’t want you to not seek me out in moments like these, I fucking love you, all the time. Whether we arguing or not.” Riri speaks, half of her words are slurred but Shuri understands her anyway. 

Shuri’s eyes feel irritatingly heavy. She craves sleep. It’s not something that comes easily and the panic attacks don’t help.  She’s tried everything from natural teas and remedies to modern supplements and medication. Nothing ever works.  She’s desperate for a good night's rest.

“Yknow, for the longest time I was sad about my Dad and Nat. It got really bad, I had nightmares about it almost every night, I think my Mom knew and didn’t say anything.”  Riri says, thinking about it is physically difficult but over the years she’s learned to be more comfortable. She doesn’t just tell anyone about her Dad and Natalie. 

“My grades dropped low but the worst part for me at the time was that I had this girlfriend…I wish she had broken up me like a regular human being but instead, everyone found out how my Dad and Nat died. Then she cut me off over text and told me I had too much baggage.”  Riri murmurs, feeling a tight squeeze around her waist. 

“It was high school, so I don’t care too much. But since then, I could never commit to a relationship, I was always too scared that I’m too much to handle.”  

Shuri hums, slowly falling asleep at the sound of Riri’s voice. 

“I only said that to let you know that this is normal, It’s okay to miss them all the time. I know I do. And I’m not going anywhere, I promise you I’m not so just…don’t think I don’t get you, because I do. I get it, I’m here.” Riri finishes. A gentle wind blows through the room.

“You don’t sleep at all, do you?” Riri asks, soft eyes cracking open as she looks at Shuri.  She adjusts so her elbow is pointed against the mattress and uses her hand to hold her up. It makes sense now. She’s always available to call when they’re apart, always texting Riri in the Morning while it’s sunrise here. Riri’s always known that Shuri has trouble sleeping but watching it is different. 

“Not really, no, usually I can close my eyes for an hour and a half,” Shuri admits. 

“So how do you keep going?” 

“The heart-shaped herb has aided me a lot, I go on missions weekly so when I do go, I get exhausted enough to have to sleep.”  Shuri exhales, her eyes watering again. She can feel the tears coming and she doesn’t want them to fall. 

Right in time, Shuri’s Kimoyo beads chime. She sighs before tapping them. 

“Queen Shuri, You have a lab project to finish. 21 percent of it is undone.” Griot reminds her. She starts to get up but a hand on her wrist prevents her from doing so.

“I’ll finish it up.” Riri offers while sitting up.

“What? No-“

“Shuri, Please. Just let me do this. I might as well just help out, I’m not tired and I’ve been sleeping.”  Riri insists while standing up, still in a tanktop and MIT sweats. Shuri remains on her side, blinking as slowly as ever. “Thanks,” “Anytime.”