#and anyway it's better without her she was too cheerful too optimistic

[maegalkarven]

I have an awful idea of Karlach and Durge actually knowing each other in the past, quite well, actually.

(The reason Karlach did not recognize Durge is because Durge always used that shape-shifting mask of theirs and looked like someone else).

Durge and Gortash met for the first time 11 or so years prior the game.

Durge was already a cult leader, Gortash was not yet Bane's Chosen or even banite, but was starting to work on the cults angle.

Durge hang around just enough for them and Karlach to hit off; it was actually Karlach who is the first person Durge felt genuine connection with.

Father Bhaal disapproved and Urge started to act up; Durge blacked out several times killing innocent tieflings, acted a lil weirder than usual.

Gortash, being Gortash, noticed.

He had a list of candidates from whom he was planning to choose the right person for Zariel's engine.

But he discarded them and sold Karlach instead; he explained it to himself as there's no better candidate for the role. She would survive the engine being installed and, if she was tough enough, would survive Avernus and emerge victorious.

It had nothing to do with his unstable ally acting more unstable than before.

Durge, who at that point had caught up what Father demanded Karlach dead and, for the first time ever, were hesitating to kill someone, visited Gortash and found out Karlach was gone.

"Good," is all they said. They did not elaborate.

[true-blue-sonic]

Question that decided to pop when I'm preparing to sleep:

What would Oliver think of Lilac? (And even of the idea of Silver getting in a relationship with Espio at all)

I'll start with your second question first, which is actually a bit of a sad story: there was a Silver living in the world of Onyx City in Genesis, who was good friends with Oliver and his gang of companions... and then 'our' Silver changed the timeline, brought himself into Onyx City, and erased that Silver from it. He thus technically took his own place, but without any of the memories or history attached to it. Our Silver therefore doesn't remember Oliver at all other than a vague feeling of deja vu, and Oliver lost his buddy. Of course, Ollie is 100% a go-getter who befriends our Silver easily enough again anyway, but fact is that Silver has a whole history in the past with people he feels closer and more connected to. So, he'll casually name-drop Espio as his best friend, and Oliver is like "WHO. WHO IS THAT. WHERE. WHY. WHAT.", leaving Silver to explain (in vague terms) that he's pals with a chameleon Oliver has never met before because he "doesn't live in the city" and who has been a tremendous help on "adventures". As time goes by and Oliver learns more about our Silver's history as a time traveller (and once he has accepted the possibility of that being true in the first place, lol), he also learns more about Espio. Oliver is someone who's decently adept at tackling social situations, as he's the cheerful and optimistic heart of his group of friends: thus, I would say it's quite easy for him to figure out how Silver feels about this mysterious companion of his! XD Silver meanwhile vows to never introduce him to Charmy and Vector, because the teasing will be through the roof and then some. But overall, Oliver is happy for Silver that he seems to have found someone he belongs with, even if that is not in Onyx City.

As for Lilac, she comes into Silver and Espio's lives when they're a bit older, so I figure that if we combine her AU with the world of Genesis, Silver has been pushing the leftover members of the Council very hard to better the lives of their people (which they do: partly because they care now that they're no longer mind controlled, and partly because they do not dare to make Silver too angry, considering what happened with their leader and all XD). Thus, Oliver's living a more peaceful life with plenty of awareness about what Silver's is like in the past. He'll probably find Chao!Lilac absolutely adorable, and anthro!Lilac even more. He'd be more than happy to look after her when Silver and Espio are busy, haha! They're a bit wary about that because he's an absolute magnet for trouble, but so far Lilac's always come out unscathed and with plenty of fun stories to tell about Onyx City. He'd be on good terms with her, I think!

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Just to let you know, I was also a huge fan of A Couple Days In, but in my opinion, it totally works as a two-parter.

I think I remember you said at the time that you weren’t sure how to end it without it being too similar to the film (apologies if I’m misremembering), and I completely get that. But for me, I think the story already achieved so much by showing how important communication is in the bedroom.

A lot of explicit fics feature sex that goes off without a hitch and ends in multiple mind-blowing orgasms. And I love fan fiction for that, because that fantasy is part of the appeal and it’s great to have female pleasure prioritised when it’s so rarely prioritised elsewhere. So I’m not disrespecting that kind of smut. I love it 😂

But ACDI also holds a lot of value for me because it’s SO relatable. I’ve never had a first time with a boy that’s gone down like the first times depicted in a lot of fics. I’ve never had my lust barely concealed as hatred boil over into a night of five orgasms (I wish 😂). And fics like ACDI remind me that a lot of the time, it does take a few attempts to find your groove with a new partner, and it’s not just me.

And the fic has already achieved that with two parts. It was relatable but also optimistic. Maybe they end up together, maybe Reader just takes the confidence boost and the tips and goes on her merry way when the snow clears? Either way, the character is in a better place than when she started, so in my opinion, you haven’t left anything unresolved. People can just pick the ending that feels most relatable to them (in their minds, not in ChatGBT).

So I really hope the AI anon hasn’t spooked you into thinking you have to force yourself into finishing fics you’re not currently feeling just so they don’t get ripped off. The fic is great already. You don’t owe anyone anything!

Anyway this was so long sorry and my intention was to cheer you up so I apologise if the consequence is anything other than that!

I can’t express how nice this was to read after the ask I received last night regarding the same fic. thank you so, so much. this is so kind and so reassuring and honestly - I think I needed to hear that.

I was lacking inspiration to finish ACDI and as you can imagine, I have zero motivation for it now. but it’s so nice to hear that you still enjoyed the two parts of it! thank you again my lovely, you’re an absolute angel and you’ve made my day 🧡

[imjustabeanie]

Hello there! I'm here for my half of our Matchup Trade! I'd like to request a character from Hazbin Hotel please! The only character I'd like not to be matched with is Angel, on account of him being gay and me being a woman.

Thank you for doing this, and please don't hesitate to reach out if you need any further information or have questions!

----

BASICS:

Name: Mochi

Gender: Female (she/her)

Sexuality: Pansexual (any gender is fine)

PERSONALITY:

MBTI: INFP

Enngram: 9 dominant

House: Slytherin

Zodiac: Libra sun, Libra moon, Leo rising

Love Languages: Quality time, physical touch, to a lesser extent gift giving

Hobbies: Writing, Drawing, listening to music, playing video games, daydreaming, debate

General: Introverted and quiet, I usually don't say too much unless I'm passionate about something (in which case good luck getting me to shut up about it) or am directly addressed. Despite being quiet, I'm actually very friendly and bubbly. I'm not really shy, though I am guarded and put up an overly cheerful front when I'm not with people I trust.

It's important to me to make people feel welcome and seen. I'm super non-judgemental and open minded about most things, and I'm a good listener which I'm told makes me easy to be around. Though I'm mature and can give good advice, I can be cowardly and tell people what they want to hear instead unless prompted. Getting my real thoughts and feelings out always takes a bit of prompting, actually... I'm working on being more honest, though. Self reflection and self improvement is super important to me and I'm always trying to be a better person.

I AM an introvert and can be easily overwhelmed in large crowds or in loud places -- especially with my anxiety. New people wear me out quickly. That being said, I absolutely cannot get enough of my loved ones and I can be a little clingy without meaning to be.

Though I'm chill most of the time, and pretty even tempered and level headed, I suffer from mental health issues that make me moody and volatile at times. I work hard not to take it out on others, but mood swings are noticeable.

I'm neutral and passive right up until I'm not. If someone hits the wrong button I'll go from 0 to 100 real quick. I'm not an aggressive person like, ever, but I will go full sassy debate mode. I don't have a lot of hills but I'll die bloodied and battered on the ones I do stand on.

I'm always trying to see the best in others, and I'm stupid loyal - to the point that it's a fault. Sometimes this gets me used or manipulated. I'm extremely gullible and can be pretty naive. It's too hard for me not to be a bit of an optimist.

APPEARANCE:

General: I'm about 5'4 and pretty chubby-- which is chill by me. I have shoulder length dark brown hair, brown eyes with long lashes (probably my best feature), olive skin.

Distinguishing Marks: I have roughly 7 tattoos, mostly pretty small, and I think 7 piercings between my ears and face.

Style: I primarily dress lazily in all sweats or camis and leggings, but when I feel fancy I'll either go full girly with pink, ruffles, bows and skirts, or full alt with dark graphic tees and a jean jacket or smth. I seldom wear makeup but when I do it's dark and heavy on the eyeliner, light on the lips.

I think the hardest was writing with literally 31 webttore on my screen. They kept hidding the save button!

Anyways, I hope you enjoy this matchup!

Your hazbin hotel match is....Charlie!

Not gonna lie, Vaggie was considered but then Charlie won. Reason why Charlie is would start a conversation more easily than Vaggie. It would be better for an introverted person because she can make you feel comfortable enough to be yourself. When you did she actually was so happy! She highly encourages you to be this bubbly but understands that you don’t feel comfortable to do so. On the other hand, she actually feels comfortable enough with you to talk about all her problems. It’s later on that she confesses (I don’t know why I see it as a planned confession that somehow went sideways lmao). You’re similar to her but tamer if we can say so you two understand each other rather well.

You’re like two peas in a pod. She feels you and you feel her. It can get overbearing for those around you because you fuel Charlie personality but it’s so cute that they can’t say anything. She’s the type of girlfriend that fully trust her partner and believes they can’t really do anything wrong. She’s big on honesty, you opening up to her is very important in her eyes. I do not believe you two would argue about things or any issues because communication is key.

Charlie loves spending time with you. Every night you two cuddle in your room and talk about your day. She relays all her troubles and drinks up your advices like water. She doesn’t realize at first that you sugar coat come things but when she does she’ll softly take you in her arms and explain that it hurts her when you’re not fully honest with her. If anyone judges you or get angry at you for speaking your mind she’ll personally deal with them. She likes how you’re always working on improving yourself and helps you reach your goals. She’s also in the same mentality. The two of you always bring out the best in each other and that’s why the dynamic works so well.

Charlie is a big extrovert. She always wants you to be by her side but understands if you get worn out easily. She’ll never put you under the spotlight since you don’t want it and does her best to keep you safe from the journalists and paparazzi (I am sure some are interested in her new relationship and would try to dig out things about you). If it doesn’t work she’ll put her foot down and sternly tell everyone to fuck off.

Charlie is very understanding. When you get moody she’ll try to know why and won’t take it personally when you lash out. She doesn’t really know personal boundaries and tend to overstep. High chance that Rosie will calmly guide her to do better (she’s her couple therapist for real lol). She goes to learn more about your mental issues and does her bast to make you feel comfortable and make you forget about them. She’s patient and will ask you about your wrong buttons to not upset you. She defends you but will still help you calm down when she feels you getting all worked up. She loves you, you’re the apple of her eyes and always make her day shine so that’s the most important.

Charlie loves pda. You’re clingy, she’s clingy, you two are the lovey dovey couple. Her love language is words and acts of service. Since you love writing and drawing she’ll actually reserve a room for your hobbies. And she’ll actually partake in them too! If you draw her she’ll be over the moon and all heaven and hell will know about it. A rare scenery at the hotel is you laying your head on her laps and daydreaming and her, thinking about her plans/rambling. Speaking of rambling you’ll actually see hearts in her eyes when you get passionate about something and start talking. She’s very attentive and will interject with questions. I believe video games aren’t her things but introduce her to sims like games and she’s gone…she likes management games.

Charlie isn’t as gullible as she seems, she’s pretty sharp and if she feels like someone is trying to play you she’ll sternly scold them. It helps because when you rant to her she points out who’s being dishonest. If someone actually wronged you they’ll see an angry princess of hell, not Charlie, at their door.

Charlie definitely had an era with piercings. I can see her with a nose or eyebrow piercing. With you there’s a high chance she gets one and later on she gets a tattoo with you. She likes tracing your piercings/tattoos when you’re snuggling.

[janetbrown711]

“Why are you so nice to me” wakko or yakko max

To Wakko's delight, his brother kept good on his promise. Weeks passed and his brother devoted several days to restoring their bond just as it once was (the other days Yakko spent with Dot or with the both of them).

Heck, Wakko was so secure in his brother not abandoning him when Yakko asked if he could start up writing to Max again (at a much slower pace than before, he promised), Wakko said yes (barely) without hesitation. He knew that Max made him happy... and that he kinda owed it to Yakko to let him hang out with him again, as their little "not exactly falling out" was his fault (to him, anyway).

Everything was starting to seem... good- perfect, even.

However, Dot's birthday was rapidly approaching and Yakko was starting to get ideas.

"You know what we should do?" He said, lounging on the couch in the sunroom. "We should throw a ball for your birthday, Dot."

Dot perked up from her book. "What? Why? We never held balls for our birthdays before."

Yakko rolled his eyes. "That's because Grandma ruins everything. In this book I'm reading it says it was tradition for the royal family to hold big celebrations on their birthdays. I think it'd be fun- plus a great opportunity for you two to start making some friends."

Oh.

This again.

Wakko tried to laugh it off. "You'd have to get mum and dad to agree, and they've been pretty busy with the flooding in the west."

"Bah, that's mostly dealt with at this point. I'm sure they could use the break too," Yakko countered.

"B-but mom's coronation wasn't even that long ago," Wakko argued.

"It was over three months ago," Dot rolled her eyes. "I think a party would be fun," she looked to Yakko.

"Didn't you have fun at mom's coronation?" Yakko asked his middle sibling.

"Well I- I suppose I did..." Wakko thought back to the massive chalk drawing he had covered the floor with. It was pretty fun, and it made a lot of people happy.

"See? I'm sure a party in Dot's honor would be fun all the same- plus, making friends is great, I'm sure you'll love it," Yakko said with a reassuring smile on his face, though Wakko still wasn't quite convinced. However, he could see how much both of his siblings wanted this (even though the idea was only seconds old) and who was he to say no?

"Alright, I guess we can do that," He said, which made Dot clap in excitement as she began to detail everything she'd want for a party in her honor.

Wakko had a feeling this was going to be interesting.

.o0o.

As expected, their parents were ecstatic at the idea, and they spared no expense in attempts to create what they believed a much-needed celebration for the people of Warnerstock and their allies.

And to say it truly was Dot's creative vision would not be false. There were a lot of pinks- a lot, a lot of pinks. Though mostly tasteful, if you saw it it was hard to look away from.

But still, Wakko was happy for her, she was having the time of her life planning it all out with their dad, who was equally happy to spoil his little girl.

However, he knew deep down that despite what Yakko had sworn, her party was probably going to be very different from the coronation. He hoped it would be fun, but the more he watched decorations being put into place and talks about the guests and feasts the more he was beginning to worry.

He didn't say anything though, as the rest of his family seemed far too happy for him to want to bother them with his plight. They deserved this break, he was probably just being dramatic anyways. He'd be fine- and maybe make a friend just like Yakko said he would.

Wakko did his best to remain optimistic, despite the knots forming deep within.

It wasn't too long before the grand day arrived. Wakko had thought they had pulled out all the stops just for decorating but the day itself was insane too. Dot was showered in presents and even was taken out to town with William to go shopping for anything her heart desired, meanwhile Yakko, Wakko, and Lena stayed behind and supervised the final touches on the decorations.

Okay- really only Lena supervised, but Yakko and Wakko were technically there too. They didn't stay with her long, as she gave them a list of things to check up on so she could talk to some people which they were fine with.

Together, the brothers walked through the massive dining hall, checking curtains, flowers, vases, tapestries, etc. to make sure they were in the exact right places (not that the list really said where they were supposed to be) and checked them all off.

"So... are you looking forward to tonight?" Yakko asked, checking off 'left-most curtains'.

"Oh- uh- Yeah! I am... are you?" Wakko quickly said.

"Oh yeah, totally, it'll be great to see Max. It's been a while... you're still cool with that, right?" Yakko glanced down at him before checking another thing off.

Wakko nodded. "I won't try to prank or drive him away this time, I swear."

Yakko snorted. "I know you know better, I'm just asking if you're okay with me hanging out with him for tonight instead of you."

"Yeah, I am. You did say I should make friends after all," Wakko said, fiddling with gloves. Yakko looked away from the checklist and gave his little brother a side hug.

"I'm proud of you, you know that?" Yakko asked.

"Yeah, yeah," It was Wakko's turn to laugh.

"I'm serious-" Yakko let go and punched Wakko's arm lightly. "You're doing great. You should be proud of yourself too, you've come a long way."

Wakko smiled a little. "Maybe."

Yakko chuckled. "Well, it looks like we're just about done with this list. Wanna go turn it in to mom and go get changed into uncomfortable suits and greet guests for hours on end, or do you wanna just double and triple check the list until the last second?"

"Definitely check the list," Wakko laughed too.

And so the brothers did, until Lena caught wind of their shenanigans and forced them to start getting ready for the party (though they did cut a lot of time so technically they still regarded it as a win). At least those outfits weren't the worst they've ever worn (they were pretty confident nothing would ever top how itchy and miserable their funeral outfits were). Still, standing around and greeting people was a dreadfully boring job, not to mention awkward until their father and Dot eventually came to join them and actually do their job properly.

They knew their mom was busy, but leaving the two of them in charge was a little questionable.

Plus, after all that interaction, Wakko was starting to feel weird. Tired, but also not-? It was complicated. All he knew was that he wanted to be alone and maybe pace for a while, that'd be nice.

However, the party was to start in not too long, so he really didn't have time for that. He followed Yakko around for a while to the main party room where the people they had greeted before were all chatting amongst themselves. It wasn't too loud yet, but Wakko's tail twitched nervously as he weaved between people and conversations.

He hadn't been this nervous at the coronation- Wakko really wished he could figure out why he was feeling this way. Alas, he was unable.

He did feel a little better as Yakko and he found a spot of their own to chill in for a while, away from all the people.

"A lot of people came to this shindig, huh?" Yakko joked, "though probably no more than those who attended mom's coronation."

"Yeah..." Wakko said, trying to compare them mentally.

"More kids though, which is really good for you and Dot to make friends," Yakko said.

"Yep, yep," Wakko feigned enthusiasm.

"Are you okay..?" Yakko asked, causing Wakko to straighten out his act instantly and nod.

"Of course," he said. Yakko frowned.

"You don't have to lie you know," He remarked. Wakko bit his lip.

"M'just a little tired," he shrugged, figuring it was close enough to the truth.

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" Yakko asked worriedly.

Wakko nodded again. "I'll be fine, I'm probably just hungry."

Yakko laughed a little. "Alright, but you'll tell me if anything is wrong, right?"

"Mhm."

"Good."

The brothers stood in a bored silence for a while, before the rest of their family walked in and the festivities officially began.

It started with the feast, which was pretty harmless, as Wakko enjoyed talking with his family and the food was "quite excellent". The hall was filled with good cheer and hearty laughter, which he could appreciate.

However, after that, things began to blur.

It seemed only moments ago he was eating when suddenly everything was taken away and it turned into social hour. and Dot and their parents disappeared once more. He recalled Yakko asking if it was okay for him to go to Max, to which Wakko nodded and even pushed him away some. Oh god- he hoped that wasn't too aggressive.

Now he was alone. People were talking, walking, dancing, all sorts of activities. Wakko tried to take it all in, but all of the colors and sounds were starting to burn his eyes.

Friends. He was told he had to make friends.

He tried looking around for kids his age, but just turning his head made him dizzy.

Hmph.

Still, he was determined to function as a normal child would so he began weaving through the rapidly shifting crowd as he had earlier, just with a much louder and more busy crowd.

Suddenly his suit was starting to feel a lot more uncomfortable than before. God- if he could just find someone-

He bumped right into a lady in a bright purple dress. He quickly stuttered an apology before scurrying away as fast as he could, not even waiting for a response.

Seriously- was his suit trying to choke him? He pulled on it desperately, but if anything it just made the pull tighter. Wakko growled to himself as he walked further and further away from whoever that lady was, until he hit the wall.

At least the marble was cool, it was starting to feel like it was a million degrees in here.

Still, it wasn't enough. he still felt hot, and stuffy- was he even breathing anymore?

...Yes, yes he was. Rather fast though- oh dear, was that his heart? oh god- what was happening? Why was the music so loud? Why was his collar so tight? When was the last time he blinked? Where were these "kids" Wakko was supposed to make friends with?

Wait- no, he could see those. A group of them- shit, they were looking at him. Wakko noticed his nail was twitching nervously- he grabbed it and forced it to stop, but the kids laughed.

Wakko ran away again, covering his ears, his face turning red and the knot in his stomach transporting itself to his throat.

"No, no, no, no. Please, not now..." He pleaded with himself, but he didn't listen, and tears started to form. Wakko looked desperately for a quick way out, but still couldn't find any- curse the size of this place.

However, as his eyes darted around anxiously, he spotted something- a table covered in a white cloth that went to the ground. Without hesitation, Wakko went to it, making sure no one saw him before crawling underneath.

Wakko stayed there, covering his ears and rocking back and forth awhile, cursing his stupid brain for making these stupid tears that wouldn't end. He also cursed the stupid music for being too loud and the guests for being so many.

He wanted Mom.

He wanted mom to come and find him and scoop him up and take him to the playroom and sit in the rocking chair and rock him to sleep.

However, she didn't come.

No one did.

He was alone, and these tears weren't making him any calmer. Everything still felt so loud- it wasn't this loud before- he loved mom's coronation. Why was his brain so stupid?!

The young prince continued like that for a while, before someone came and lifted the tablecloth. He tried to make a run for it, but the someone grabbed his arm before he could- Wakko turned to look at their face and-

It was Max.

"S-sorry, I probably shouldn't... grab you," He let go, and Wakko scooted back, though he didn't leave. Max saw this as an invitation and joined him under the table.

"A-are- uh... Are you okay?" Max asked. Wakko looked away and shrugged.

"Right... not much of a talker..." Max recalled. Wakko nodded once, though he instantly regretted it, as it made his head feel weird.

Max tapped his fingers on his knee as he tried to figure something out. Wakko avoided any looks the Disney Prince gave him.

"Do you want some water? I can go get you some water," Max offered. Wakko sniffled and thought about it, before nodding once more (and regretting it once more).

with that, he disappeared, though not for too long.

Wakko noticed he stopped crying.

"Here, take this," Max handed him the glass. Wakko accepted the offering, taking a long drink.

Well, that felt at least a little bit better.

He glanced at Max.

"A-aren't you supposed to be with Yakko?" he asked.

"Dot was practically begging Yakko for a dance and I let him, it's her day after all," Max chuckled.

That made sense.

Wakko looked down at the glass, tapping his finger against it and looking at the water ripple.

"Do you need to step out of the party for a sec?" Max asked.

Wakko shrugged, taking a sip.

"Here- I'll help you find an exit," Max said, getting up and holding the cloth open for Wakko.

He hesitated.

He didn't deserve this- such kindness from the guy he locked in the tower mere weeks ago- it didn't make sense.

Then again, he'd give anything to get out of here.

Wakko listening to his senses and got out.

Carefully he followed Max through the gigantic room until they eventually reached a door, through which both of them slipped out of and into a calm and dark hallway.

Instantly, Wakko felt calmed, taking a deep breath.

"Wanna sit down?" Max asked, gesturing to the couches nearby. Wakko nodded. However, instead of sitting on the couch, he chose to lay on the cool floor, even taking off his gloves so he could feel the marble with his fingers.

Max didn't say anything for a while, not seeming to mind the silence. Which was good- because Wakko didn't feel like breaking it.

After a while though, a thought nagged at his brain.

Why.

Why on earth would Max help him? After everything he did? After everything he jeopardized? It didn't make sense.

Wakko sat up. Max looked at him but didn't say anything.

Wakko sighed.

"Why-?" He paused.

"Why... are you being so nice to me?"

"You were in trouble, I couldn't ignore that," Max shrugged. Wakko frowned, putting his gloves back on.

"I-i... Aren't you mad? At least a little?" He asked.

"It wasn't my first time being locked in a room for hours on end," Max snorted.

"Y-yeah, but I tried to hurt you. And Yakko..." Wakko looked at the ground. "I know how much you mean to him."

Max blinked.

"I- uh... well-" Max struggled with his words a moment.

"I don't... blame you, I guess. It's as new to you as it is to me and with a past and family tree like yours, I guess I don't blame you for lashing out? I dunno," Max shrugged, looking away.

Huh...

"Still... you didn't have to do this."

"I wanted to. Trust me, I would've helped any kid I found under there, but I'm glad it was you," Max said.

Wakko looked at him, deciding whether or not he believed that. Ultimately, he did.

"You know... Yakko talks a lot about you," Max said, piquing Wakko's interest.

"He worries a lot, but he says you're a really sweet kid, and I believe that," Max smiled a little. "You should be easier on yourself, you're still growing up you know?"

Wakko thought about that.

"I guess," He said. Max snorted.

"You know... you do seem like a pretty cool kid. I'm sorry if you ever felt I was ignoring you, I promise I'll try to make up for it too," He said.

Wakko thought about that too.

"Thanks," He said.

"I really do hope we can grow to like each other. Yakko means a lot to me and you mean a lot to him... you know?" Max blushed a little, scratching the back of his neck.

Wakko nodded, grinning a little.

"So... are we... cool?" Max asked.

Wakko thought about that as well.

"Yeah, we're cool," He said with his signature smile.

"Cool," Max grinned back. "Because I'm pretty sure Yakko might lose it if his dance with Dot ended and he can't find me."

Wakko laughed.

"Will you be alright?" Max asked, standing. Wakko nodded, getting up as well.

"I'm feeling a lot better... though I think I'll look for mum and dad," He said.

"Fair enough," Max nodded once. "Well- uh... see you around, I guess."

"See you around," Wakko laughed at his awkwardness before going back through the doors and back to the party.

Max followed soon thereafter, hoping Yakko wouldn't be too mad or worried at him for his sudden disappearance.

.o0o.

Yakko couldn't believe that a year ago today he thought his parents were dead. It baffled him honestly- he could turn his head and his parents were right there. They were never really dead- it shocked him to remember sometimes.

He also couldn't believe that only a year ago the most celebration they could share for Dot's birthday was a mini cake they had to sneak late at night.

And now look where he was- dancing in the middle of the ballroom with his little sister having the time of his life- despite the fact Dot couldn't stop giggling and he almost dropped her that one time.

However, he had to draw the line after three songs, which Dot understood, and he gave her back to their parents, hoping Max wouldn't be too mad about Dot taking up so much of his time.

"Ah, Max, there you are- sorry for dancing so long, I have a hard time saying no to her," Yakko laughed between pants, scratching the back of his neck.

"You just got done?" Max teased.

"Yeah, she really liked dancing," Yakko shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets.

"You look like you could use a breather," Max raised an eyebrow at him.

"Who, me? Whatever would give that idea?" He played back, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

"C'mon- let's go to the balcony," Max said, taking his hand.

When they got to the door Yakko paused as he looked back at his family, unsure. However, his parents looked at him, and after giving a fair look of warning, they both gave him a thumbs up and nod of approval, and Yakko went off with his prince.

However, they didn't pick a random one, they went all the way through the halls to the usual one they'd go to when Max visited Warnerstock (the kid had a thing for balconies).

"Ahh, fresh air," Yakko embraced the cool night.

"Yep," Max embraced it too, immediately going and leaning on the rails.

"Are you liking the party?" Yakko asked.

"It's pretty good- though a little crowded, but I always know how to find some space," Max answered.

"I feel that- when my birthday rolls around, I'll make it a lot less crowded. I don't know what Dot had against having it outside, but what are you gonna do?" Yakko shrugged.

"I think Wakko would appreciate a smaller shindig," Max said, looking at the garden.

"What makes you say that?" Yakko decided to take his place next to Max also leaning against the railing.

"Ran into him- he wasn't having the best time so I helped ground him again," Max said like it was no big deal.

It was.

"Grounded him? You- managed to calm him down? Is he okay? What happened?" Yakko asked quickly.

"Woah, woah, it's okay. He's totally fine, just... overwhelmed." Max said.

"Oh... well... I'm glad he's okay," Yakko took a deep breath. "And I'm even more glad you were able to help him- that's huge... really."

He looked at him when he said that last part. Max blushed.

"I would've helped anyone, seriously," He looked away.

"Mhm, sure," Yakko teased.

"I am serious though- it probably means a lot to Wakko- he doesn't accept help easily and to allow you... it means he's starting to like you," Yakko said in all seriousness.

"That's good," Max nodded. "I really do want your family to like me- I just... don't have the best ways of showing it, I suppose."

"Hey, you're doing great so far," Yakko held his hand.

There was a moment before Yakko realized what he was doing and both boys broke the gesture.

"Haha... yeahhhh," Max looked at the wall away from Yakko.

There was a stretch of silence between the two, neither knowing what to do. Sure they knew what they wanted but... things are never as easy as just doing what you want.

"My dad and uncles like you too- if you care about that," Max decided to say.

"That's good," Yakko smiled a little, rubbing his thumb on the railing.

Another pause.

"You know- It's funny to me how when we met you thought I might too cool for you," Max remarked.

"When did I ever say that?" Yakko said.

"You called me cool at least fifty times upon first meeting me," Max play punched his arm.

"As I recall, you called me cool, so who's the real cool one here?" Yakko punched him back and the princes laughed.

"Alright, alright, you got me," Max chuckled. "I was just trying to say you were totally wrong, I don't have a cool bone in my body."

"God- you're so cool you don't even know how cool you are. Typical," Yakko sighed teasingly.

"Hey, didn't I just say you're pretty cool too?" Max accused playfully.

"Oh please, you're way cooler. No trauma and with fluffy, luxurious hair like that? Please," Yakko rolled his eyes.

"Oh puh-lease yourself. Trauma is just a cool backstory and you're home is a lot more fun and a lot less crowded and your family is a lot more cool too," Max pointed his finger at Yakko.

"You're exaggerating," Yakko pointed back.

"Nope- not at all. You're one of my first true friends and that automatically makes you very cool," Max crossed his arms.

"Oh yeah? W-well-" Yakko paused, looking at Max carefully.

A pause.

Max's dark brown eyes shined back at Yakko, reflecting the stars that surrounded them wonderfully. His fluffy and luxurious hair framed his face with perfect ease. His signature smile slowly turned into that of curiosity.

Yakko felt his heart flutter.

"I'm not as cool as you think," Yakko stepped down, looking at the ground.

Coward.

Another pause.

"..."

"Well maybe you are right- maybe I am cooler than you."

"Wha-?"

Before Yakko could finish the sentence, Max grabbed his shoulder and pulled him into a kiss.

"S-see?" Max was internally "fjdkaf;sfj"-ing in his brain. "You've won- I'm a lot cooler."

"Y-yeah," Yakko could barely speak his face was as red as Wakko's hat. "You're... yeah," his face melted into a goofy grin.

"Oh god- I'm sorry- d-did you not mean that..?" Max panicked, quickly becoming embarrassed.

"N-no!" Yakko snapped to life. "I-i... I- uh..."

"I liked it," He managed to say. Max smiled.

"W-... Wanna do it again?" Yakko proposed, and Max nodded, and they shared another kiss.

Yakko knew it was corny to think, but it truly felt just like fireworks in his chest.

He liked Max- Max liked him. A part of himself was realized- and he felt alive. A good kind of alive- not the kind of alive that came from life or death situations.

"So... I guess that makes us even," Max joked. Yakko laughed.

"I guess so," He couldn't get himself to stop smiling- neither could Max. They looked at each other before bursting into laughter again.

"Man, we really should return to the party," Max said.

"Yeah, you're right," Yakko's face was starting to hurt from the smiling.

"Do- uh... do you think your parents will be cool... orrrr...?" Max asked.

"Psh, I'm sure they'll be fine," He said without hesitation.

"Cool," Max said, opening the door out of the balcony.

Yakko looked at him for a moment, trying to absorb the moment as best he could.

"You okay?" Max asked.

"Yep," Yakko said, taking a deep breath as he implanted it in his memory in his brain forever.

"C'mon, let's go before they think we've done something stupid," Yakko said, quickly joining Max and grabbing his hand before running back to join his family.

however, right before entering the party room once more, Yakko paused.

"Does this mean our friendship is basically ruined?" He asked.

Max thought about it.

"I wouldn't think of it as a ruining per se... maybe think of it as an upgrade of sorts," Max winked.

God, he was so much cooler.

"Cool," Yakko grinned, squeezing Max's hand.

"Well... uh- shall we?" Max let go and offered Yakko his arm.

Yakko thought about it.

Taking it would mean no taking it back- it would mean the whole party would basically know that they kissed (holy shit- they kissed! that was a thing that happened!). His parents, his siblings, practically the whole kingdom, and their allies.

Yakko couldn't imagine any other way to walk back in.

He took his arm.

"We shall."

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 The End

[hiiraya]

you are my sunshine (rewrite)

masterlist

pairing: wanda maximoff x reader

words: ~1,793

warnings: angst, mentions of injuries, character death

requested:

a/n: i just realised i hadn't posted since my birthday! I figured i should get something out to you guys before the month ends so here's a rewrite from my old account bc uni is currently turning my brain into mush. happy reading!! ♡

The other night dear, as I lay sleeping

It was obvious to everyone around you that you were more of a lover than a fighter.

It was easy – a little too easy sometimes – for you to get lost in your Imagination, dreaming away to your hearts content if nothing in the real world could hold your attention for more than a few minutes.

The fact that you were the type of person who would do anything for anyone when they asked, or just simply because you could didn’t help your case at all.

For the most part you did it to be nice and helpful to the team, but you’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t say that it was also so a certain witch who held your heart would come up to you whenever she needed help with something.

But you weren’t going to admit that just yet. 

-

They always wondered how you did it.

You know that they would never ask it to your face, but you could see how they questioned how easily you could get side-tracked by your imagination, or how you could stay so optimistic and be dreaming of better days when it seemed like the whole world was against you.

After going through so much hurt and suffering, they would’ve thought that you’d turn hard and emotionless, giving up on the world that had given you every reason to stop believing in those who lived in it.

But against all odds, you kept the childlike joy and passion they were sure you would’ve lost years ago. They knew they had.

You were the one Peter would go to when he needed cheering up because he was told that he wasn’t allowed on a mission with the team (not just yet, Tony would kill you if gave the kid false hope, but you always told him that the time will come).

You were the one Bucky would seek out whenever life became a little too much to handle, because you knew just what to say without him having to say a word. “You are more than the sum of your mistakes, Buck.”

You were the one Natasha went to when she wanted someone to talk to just because she knew that she could tell you anything and you would listen, no questions asked.

You were the one they went to simply because they wanted to witness life through your eyes and see that there was still hope and goodness left in this world.

I dreamed I held you in my arms

You pined after her.

Oh boy, did you pine for her.

You dreamed of worlds where she was yours and the both of you were happy; worlds where no one thought of her as a monster, where everyone she’s ever loved was safe; where you could show her just how ethereal and radiant, she was in your eyes.

You dreamed of a world where you made Wanda feel so happy and loved, that she forgets about all the hurt and pain this earth had put her through.

But when I awoke, dear, I was mistaken

As all dreams do, they end, and unfortunately for you, as much as you loved to dream, nothing every came of them.

Those dreams would never become reality. And maybe it was because you were scared of being rejected, of being ridiculed- whatever the reason was that you gave to convince yourself that she could never know.

You don’t know.

You would always be just a friend to her.

So, of course, when you had finally worked up enough courage to do something about your feelings for Wanda after the whole mess that was Ultron, Vision had beaten you to it.

And now it was too late.

Because he was the one who could be there for her in the ways you wanted to. The one who could hold her and kiss her and treat her like you wanted to. The one she would come home to at the end of the day.

But luckily for you (was it luck or was it just a cruel twist of fate?) there was no one else but you that could calm her down.

Whenever the world got a little too loud, you would let her into your mind, conjuring up the few peaceful moments from your life that you held close to you, just for her to see, letting her ground herself back to reality while you sang to her softly.

It was in those moments that you knew, that yes, she had him, you were an irreplaceable part of her life too.

So, I bowed my head and I cried.

Even though everyone had dubbed you as the happy-go-lucky Avenger, you still had those moments where you broke down in the solitude of your room.

You tried hard to convince yourself that you would be fine seeing her with him, but deep down you knew that it broke you down little by little each time you saw Wanda being happy with someone that wasn’t you.

It was a selfish thought to have, and you knew it, so you tried to keep it locked away in the back of your mind.

Without realizing, you had built walls around your mind whenever she was around, letting her in just enough to calm her down but never enough to let her know what you were truly feeling.

You are my sunshine

You found it funny when you found out that people thought of you as the personal sunshine of the Avengers.

If only they knew about your own personal sunshine.

Wanda helped shape you into the person you were, acting as your own personal ray of sunshine that kept you going, shining just as bright as her to keep her happy and shining.

And if she shone a little brighter whenever you would call her your sunshine, then you would continue to call her that for as long as you could.

My only sunshine

“(Y/N), I didn’t know that you could play the piano.” She said with surprise.

The two of you were hanging out in your room when she noticed the piano tucked away in the corner of the room.

You hadn’t mentioned it to anyone before, Tony got it for you when you had mentioned to him that you missed playing when you first joined the team, and if you were being honest, you hadn’t touched it since then.

“That’s because I don’t play it much anymore.” You shrugged as you looked over at the instrument, getting off of your bed and crossing the room to sit on the worn-out seat.

“Can you play for me?”

“Anything for you, sunshine.”

Play the opening chords to your favorite lullaby, you looked at her with such longing and want before forcing your gaze away so she couldn’t see your eyes as you started to sing.

You make me happy, when skies are grey

You look up at her from you place on her lap, where your head is resting against her legs as she ran her fingers through your hair, offering you the best smile she could muster.

You couldn’t tell if it was real or not.

She looks so beautiful, and she doesn’t even know it.

With the sun shining high and bright behind her, chestnut locks framing her face, you wouldn’t be surprised if someone told you that you were looking right at an angel.

You’ll never know dear, how much I love you

Maybe it was because you had fully convinced yourself that she would never feel the same way for you that you had missed on the forlorn gazes she sent your way.

Wanda couldn’t help but feel like she was missing something. Especially when she realized that you had started to block her from going further into your head whenever you let her in your mind as easily as she could before Vision and her had announced that they were together.

She couldn’t help but think back to all the times you would retreat back into your room after she walks into the room with the android; how your light would start to dull when she would bring him up in your conversations; how you seemed to smile less whenever he was around.

She didn’t know what was worse, to lose him or to lose you.

She wouldn’t be able to have a choice in the matter anyway.

You’d never tell her how you felt about her - you hated the feeling of separating people. Simply put, you just didn’t have the heart to say something and ruin the friendship between you and Wanda, or the relationship she had with Vision.

Please don’t take my sunshine away.

“I’m sorry I won’t be there to calm you down, sunshine.” You murmur softly, (e/c) meeting shining emerald ones.

“Don’t say that (Y/N/N). It’s okay,” She says, shaking her head. “Everything’s going to be okay. You’re going to be fine.”

You ignore her words for the first time as your breath hitches in your throat, wincing as she presses her hand harder against the wound on your stomach.

It wasn’t supposed to end this way. Just a simple recon mission to go into an abandoned Hydra base and gather intel that turned out to be a trap to lure your team in.

You were blindsided. All of you were.

“I’m sorry I can’t make this better. I’m sorry that I won’t be there to cheer you and the rest of the team up when you get back home. Tell them I’m sorry that I couldn’t say goodbye.” You manage to get out between breaths.

You had to get your apologies out now before it was too late.

Before there was no breath left in you to apologize to the one woman you swore to yourself you would never hurt.

The one woman you would love no matter what.

“We’re going to get you out of here, (Y/N). Just hold on for me.” She begs desperately, tears starting to stream down her cheeks as she lifted her head to shout for help.

You reach your hand up to cup her cheek, pulling her back down to look at you before you start humming the familiar tune you would sing to her after a rough night of nightmares.

Placing her hand over yours, she leaned into your touch, refusing to accept the fact that you were slipping away right in front of her eyes.

An anguished sob left her mouth while her tears fell harder as she watched you close your eyes for the last time, gasping for air as she manages to choke out the last line.

“Please don’t take my sunshine away.”

—

taglist:

@ladyeliot

[niksfics]

↬ FATE

↬ PAIRINGS: kenma x f!reader (side aka rebound mention) miya atsumu x f!reader

↬ WARNINGS: a whole lotta angst, breakup, it’s an online relationship, kenma is cold and hurts ur feelings

↬ SUMMARY: your relationship with kenma really had felt like the last one. He was it, turns out he didn’t have similar feelings.

↬ A/N: alright loves!! This isn’t proofread at all it’s 2 in the morning I’ll edit when I wake up, butttt Thanks to my lovely ex girlfriend you are now being graced with this steaming pile of trash. (Lovely was not meant sarcastically at all she is in fact very lovely.) Ngl almost, if not all of this story is about my relationship with my ex gf. This is how I cope people. ￫ It’s taken me awhile to actually be able to right something that’s why things kinda stopped. Tbh after she broke up with me it’s been very hard for me to write so hopefully this helps! And I hope you enjoy!! I would also just like to say if it feels a lil weird it’s cause these are things I’ve actually written in my notes I tweaked it a little to fit the story but it’s straight from the source 😩

WC | 2.5K

You sighed as you opened your notes app. Your eyes scanning over all of the little facts and quirks he had told you about himself. All the stuff you’d wanted to remember. The stuff that had seemed so important to you before. Now it was meaningless, almost like facts about a stranger. Almost as if you hadn’t spent four months learning about and growing with eachother.

You scrolled down a little bit right under, how his favorite marvel character is Spider-Man and you chewed on your lip. Your fingers hovering above the keyboard on your phone. You looked over the facts again. The things he dislikes and the stuff he adores, the things he likes to collect to the way he feels passionately about a certain topic. You begin to type.

Friday June 25th 2022 12:22 Am

I cried again tonight, because I still love you. It’s been a month and six days since we broke up. It feels like there’s a hole in my chest. You seem to be doing fine though, so I’m happy for you! This is the second time since we’ve broken up that I’ve felt actual physical emotional pain in my chest. Remember when I told you how bad it hurt after we broke up? Remember how you didn’t even ask if I was ok? Didn’t even bother to answer. Do you remember that? I remember. I’ve thought about it every day since. I remember it being so bad I genuinely thought I was having a heart attack. Wasn’t until I’d called tetsu crying that he’d told me it was just emotional and I should probably try to relax.

I read through our old messages. I’ve never wanted something back so bad. Never wanted to beg anyone to stay till now. I wish you loved me like I love you. I wish I hadn’t grown so attached, wish I hadn’t fallen so deeply into love with you. I wish it wasn’t my fault that we broke up. I wish I wasn’t so fucking scared. I wish I was fearless. Wish I could rise into love bravely. I wish I was brave when it came to you. I keep telling myself it was me. It was me not you. You didn’t love me anymore. You don’t love me anymore and you’re just too nice to say that. So you told me in the only way I could handle. Except you hadn’t used the words you should have. You got bored. We both know it’s true. You were bored of it, and I don’t blame you. I know we’ll never talk again, and part of me is so glad. Another part of me forces myself to read through all our messages though. I wish I could just tell you one last time. I love you.

You sighed saving it before closing out of it. Tears you hadn’t known were falling finally became known to you as they streamed down your cheeks. Your eyes puffy as you wet your lips, the salt of them coating your tongue. You were bitter and so were your tears. I briefly wondered what he was doing right now. Probably playing a video game. You knew his schedule all to well by now. Probably testing out a new game for his stream.

A new set of fresh tears fell as you remembered how you used to call him right before he went on. Being lulled to sleep by his occasionally curses and the clicking oh his controller or his keyboard.

You never expected things to end this way. You really thought he was the last one. Yes it had only been four months, but the way he made you feel. The way that it had felt. It had felt final, and you’d been friends before you even started dating.

You sniffle moving yourself to the kitchen to poor yourself a glass of water as you remembered how nervous you were when you first texted him. You had acumulated quite the crush on him back in high school. As Inarazaki’s manager you were required to go to the games, and even after your team lost you had stuck around. Watched him play and cheered him on. Two weeks later you had begun to text, as friends of course. It wasn’t until four months ago that you’d gotten together.

Your anniversary was only two days prior to your break up. You both had never been one to even care about that stuff. You had agreed early on in the relationship that we wouldn’t do anything due to the distance, and the business of our schedules. You were never one for remembering things like anniversaries anyways.

He really did feel like the one. Sometimes you just know. Sometimes you can just feel it. Like, you know that feeling you get when you know something is off or you know for sure something is about to happen even without being told it’s going to. That’s what it felt like to be with kozume kenma.

You thought you knew, you thought this time, this time its for real. You thought it was finally safe to say, that he was the one. You both had even admitted to looking for each others initials in those stupid soulmate tik tok videos.

You were finally in a mature relationship with someone you could talk about anything to. You had gotten so caught up in it, that you didn’t even see the end creeping up on you.

↝

You’d finally gained the courage to text him again. Unfortunately it was in a drunken daze. Your hands shaking as you fumbled with your phone typing things you’d come to regret in the morning. You’d sent him a series of texts telling him how much you missed him, how you didn’t understand how he was so okay. You had been a wreck that night. One of your friends puking in her toilet as you cried. You were happy of course that he was doing so well, but you’d been a wreck for so long and he hadn’t even changed. You told him you wished you could be okay.

When you’d awoken the next morning hair knotted in a complete mess and wiping drool from your chin your heart had sunk even lower. His response was cold. You knew that kenma could be cold. You knew that it was just who he was, but this particular text had felt so unfeeling and unfamiliar, it was as if he hadn’t even sent it himself. He had only ever talked like this to you once and that was when you first became friends all those years ago.

Kozume ❤️

Hey, it’s okay. And yeah you see what I choose to put up. I could be better. But I choose to stay optimistic and busy. Sorry that things are this way.

You had never seen so many periods in a text before. He only used grammar like that when he was peeved, and maybe you were wrong, maybe he’d done that on purpose, but it had hurt so bad. It had caused an ache so deep in your chest that you weren’t sure if you’d ever even dated him at all.

Yeah.

It was the only thing you could bring yourself to respond back with. How were you supposed to respond to that? You’d stared at it for so long and after you’d sent it you wished you had said more. Wished you would’ve said something more insightful than a simple, heartbroken, “yeah.”

Not too long later there was another ping and you held your breath. His name briefly appearing across your screen.

Yeah. I could be better. But I hope you do well soon. I’m sorry that I can’t really do much to help out

And of course you did the only thing you could do. Deflect. Pretend like you hadn’t said what you’d said not even fourteen hours ago.

No it’s fine. I’m fine. You don’t have to apologize. I’m sorry that you could be doing better.

He left you on seen. You knew you sounded like an asshole. At least to you, you felt like an asshole. Why couldn’t you have come up with something else. Why couldn’t you tell him the truth. Tell him how you felt. Tell him that you didn’t think you should be broken up anymore. That the month long cruel joke was over and you were ready to spend your nights falling asleep to him playing video games again. You didn’t though, and you never would. You’re not brave enough, too prideful to even try.

You swallowed down the bile rising in your throat as you realized even if you did beg him. Begged him to take you back. Tell him that you still love him. You were too late, and you just couldn’t be selfish when it comes to him. He is over you and it was so plainly obvious. You know that deep down. Know that he’s moved on, and it kills you inside. So you did the only thing you could do. Try and put it into words.

So as you lay in bed the warm body you let occupy your space sound asleep beside you, his toned blonde hair tousled slightly and you sighed. Finally away from the shenanigans of your friends you took a deep breath before you closed your eyes.

You opened up your notes app again and scrolled past the last entry. You swallowed again as you blinked the tears out of your eyes. Your thumbs beginning to move before you even gave them permission.

Wednesday June 30th 2022 1:39 Am

Here I am again. Stuck. Stuck in the same place I’ve been for so long. You know, I write so beautifully when I’m broken. I’m most of my best work is written when I’m being torn apart. But I just, I can’t seem to find the words. I can’t seem to put it into a document and turn out little story into a different story to cope. Can’t seem to write it out. Can’t seem to move on.

I hovered over the unfollow button on your page today, to keep myself from scrolling through your things again. To keep myself from getting hurt. So I don’t have to be reminded. I want to delete it. Delete where we officially met. On a chat through my screen. I wanna wipe the messages clean. And I’ve tried. Oh how I’ve tried. But I can’t.

I want to delete our conversations. The hours long talks we had, but then, what happens afterwards? What keeps the memories alive. I’d never been so in love with someone before. I’ve never actually…. Been in love before. I thought I’d been in love, but it didn’t feel like that, and losing them never hurt like this. Losing someone has never hurt this bad before.

I’ve never felt the emptiness you left so deep in my very being with anyone I’ve ever met before. I can’t seem to pull myself together. And it’s pathetic I know. It’s pathetic that I’m still here. In the same place I was a month ago. It’s about to be two months we’ve haven’t been together. I’m hurting. Hurting so bad. It’s painful to look at you.

I haven’t deleted the photos even though I probably should. They’re still tucked away in an album in my camera roll labeled “us <3” the one one I made specially just for you. The way I’d been so excited when I was finally ready to tell my friends. I even have this stupid notes folder from when we were dating where I wrote all the little things about you that I never wanted to forget. I find you so endearing. Everything you do. I just couldn’t help but right it down to keep it safe so it never leaves my mind. So that I never forget. But now, forgetting is all I want to do.

I never thought there’d be a time in my life where I was more emotionally stunted that I normally. So stunted I can’t even put this, our split up, into words. Make it something entertaining for somebody else to read. Write a book about it. My publicist keeps asking when the sequel for my book will be done. I don’t know if it’ll ever be finished. I can’t do the one thing I’ve always been good at. I’m crying as I write this.

And I wish it would just end here in this little notes app. Wish the love would die in here. I always think I’m over you and then I see you again, and nowadays your everywhere. A very big hit and I’m happy for you and your success, but seeing you makes my heart squeeze in my chest.

I think I’m over you until I play that stupid fucking game that causes me to scream at my phone, or my laptop in frustration, but I just can’t seem to delete it because I know it’s something that you love. That show we used to talk about. I know you know which one, I can’t seem to watch it without thinking of what was. You’ve ruined it forever cause now it only reminds me of you. I know you’ll never see this, but I like to imagine you can. That my time for closure has somehow come.

When you told me you were sorry that things were this way, it was a real slap in the face. It stopped my false hope. My wishing. It all came to a halt. I’m glad. Glad that you’re happier. That you’re better without me. But god, now I’m so fucked up and I can’t even talk to you.

You were the only person I had left. The only one who understood me. And now you’re gone. You took a part of me with you that night. A part that I’ll never get back. I should’ve known that you would leave. I’ve never been able to get someone to stay for longer than three to four months.

I thought I could let my guard down though. I thought we were in the clear. I’d thought finally. Finally someone is gonna stay. I thought you were my person. I still think that to this day. I thought we were gonna make it. And now I’m with this guy I don’t even like. He’s not you, he doesn’t act like you. He doesn’t like video games like you do.

He doesn’t talk to me like you do. Like you did. But you know how it ended I don’t need to put it here. Unfortunately I’ll always love you even if you don’t love me. This is so scattered, I’m sorry I couldn’t make you happy.

With that you closed the app and put down your phone. Plugging in it and as it dinged miya atsumu rolled over in his sleep. He reached for you his hands wrapping around your waist to tug you against his strong body.

His gravely voice whispering through sleep, “mmm finally decided to come to bed?” You hum moving an arm under on of his to wrap around his thin waist. “Mhm, thought you might need the company.” You began to draw little shapes and letters against his back as he chuckled, “oh yea? How thoughtful of you princess.”

Suddenly it was quiet and your closed eyes opened to his wide brown ones, his eyebrows furrowing .

“Did you just spell kozume on my back?”

[wildingrose]

hassle

dark alley help part 8

part 7: refusal | part 9: care

word count: 2k

》 public sex

- ✿ -

You twirled on the spot while keeping your gaze fixed on the store's wall mirror, fixing the blazer and feeling the material of the pants on you. "How does this look, Tae?"

When you didn't hear anything, you frowned and turned your head to where he stood leaning against a clothes rack. He was glaring at the fabric wrapped around your legs.

"Tae?"

"I don't like them," he muttered while scowling at your pants.

Your frown deepened. "Why? Do I look bad in them?" You thought they were perfect, hugging your waist comfortably and your legs still looked sexy despite it being hidden.  

And that was the exact problem he had.

Taeyong loved seeing your beautiful legs when you wore short skirts and dresses and so he didn't like it one bit that they were being caged away. "They're not convenient."

It took you a while before you understood what he meant. Looking around, no one was near you and in a hushed tone said, "Seriously? You don't like them because it's not convenient for you to fuck me? These are for work and I'm not having you fuck me while I'm at work."

He finally lifted his gaze to meet yours. With a naughty smirk, he whispered, "Wanna bet?"

You rolled your eyes. "Whatever, I'm getting this."

His eyes blew up. "No!"

"Give me a proper reason why I shouldn't."

His jaw clenched before another one hit him. "It'll take too long to dress."

You huffed. "More like too long to un-dress."

"It'll be a hassle."

"Tae?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

He sulked and looked away. In a really quiet voice, he muttered, "Lighter colour would look better."

Impressive. "You finally give a proper reason. Good boy," you cheered.

His eyes darkened instantly and before he could lay a touch on you, you held a finger up to stop him. "Nuh-uh, don't you dare even try anything here."

He rolled his eyes and caught sight of formal dresses across the store. "Can't you at least get some dresses?"

"The only ones considered professional are those body tight style that go past the knees. Not a fan of that."

"At least they'll show your legs."

You gave him a pointed look. "I'm not trying to woo anyone with my legs. Plus, I feel like I'm radiating serious boss vibes in pants. At least as a newbie, I'll avoid dresses until I've gained some respect through my work."

He hummed. "What is this business anyway?"

"My dad started his own business in real estate. Remember that small building you came to pick me up and met my brother? That's where he has his small team. His name is doing well and wanted my brother who has no interest in it to carry it on. And that's where I stepped in and saved everyone. My dad's happy, my brother's happy, and I'm happy. I get the business and I still have you. It's a win-win situation."

Taeyong's face turned grim when there was still one member in your family who wasn't happy. "But your mom..." he trailed off quietly.

You sighed and held his face gently, making eye contact. "Yeah, she might not be happy right now, but she'll eventually come around it. Let's be a little optimistic, hm?"

He smiled a little and nodded slightly.

"Good! Now let's change the topic. Do you have a suit? Like a formal, business type suit or something?"

Taeyong shook his head, frowning. "Why?"

You hummed and looked around for the men's section. "You're gonna need one for an event. Go check some out while I change, okay?" You flashed him a smile and headed for the fitting rooms. Just when you were about to close your door, Taeyong pushed it and slipped in. You staggered back a bit from the unexpected force. Puzzled, you asked, "What are you doing here?"

He didn't answer and shut the door before crouching down in front of you and unbuttoned your pants, yanking them down along with your panties in one swift move.

You gasped. "I thought I gave you a task, not an invitation to follow me here for a fuck," you spoke quietly through gritted teeth, hoping no one would hear you on the other side of the door.

"Put your feet up."

"I'm not."

He looked up at you. "See how annoying it is when you wear pants?"

You inhaled deeply and strictly told him, "Get this in your head. I am not letting you fuck me when I'm at work."

You both had a staring competition, his eyes holding utmost determination for what he wanted to accomplish in the small room as his hand gently remained wrapped around your ankle. Unlike him, your eyes shook the longer his eyes burned into yours and so your body reacted, feeling a slight throb in your exposed core.

Silently admitting defeat, you raised your foot and a huge smirk got plastered onto his face. He ripped your shoes and pants off and stood up, shrugging out only enough for his dick before pushing you against the wall and hooking your legs around his hips. His cock lined up to your entrance and held it there, waiting for your permission with a devilish smirk.

Quietly groaning, you whispered, "Don't you dare fucking tease me. Just do it!"

"Gladly."

He slowly pushed into you, both of your sighs mixing as he rested his forehead against yours. You bit into your bottom lip from having to be beautifully stretched out for the first time in nearly 48 hours.

"You feel so damn good, doll," he whispered, following suit and kept his voice low. "It's been a while."

"It's only been two days, Tae. I was busy." Busy learning the work and introducing yourself to the team.

He grunted. "That's too long." Pulling out a bit, he pushed in again, setting a slow and steady pace as he rolled his hips into you. "Not fair," he mumbled against your skin when his lips littered kisses along your jawline.

You shivered as your tight walls hugged him and tried to contain your whine when he wasn't quite rutting into you like the way you loved. If he did, it was going to be a challenge to stop yourself from drawing attention of concerned employees. Instead, you turned your head and sighed softly at the mirror displaying live porn between you and your man. Taeyong followed your gaze and curled his lips up. "Like what you see, doll?"

Your hands balled his shirt, nodding to his question. "Very."

"Good." He pecked your lips and pulled out to the tip, his hands pushing your ass up and giving it a gentle squeeze to get his doll ready for the mission.

And the timing couldn't have been worse when you heard a knock on the door.

"Ma'am, is everything going well in there?" an employee spoke, tone polite, friendly, and unsuspecting.

You gave Taeyong a strict look, silently warning him to not even think of doing anything. "Yeah, everything is- ah!"

Your fingers dug hard into his shoulders, your head flew back and hit the wall when he decided to have some fun by thrusting hard into you.

"Ma'am, are you okay?" Her voice sounded panicky. "Do you require assistance?"

"No!" you squeaked out. You kept your eyes shut and tried to calm your spiked heart down. There were no locks for the rooms and if she turned the handle, then you were screwed. "I'm... changing."

"Alright, ma'am. Let me know if you'd like anything."

Opening your eyes, you glared at Taeyong. He bit his lower lip, being fully entertained by your reaction. "Ye-" Not even one full syllable in, Taeyong repeated his fun, pulling out and jamming into your slick hole swiftly. Your toes curled and you clamped one hand to your mouth to stop yourself from screaming while the other fisted tightly in his hair, not caring if it hurt him. He merely grunted in response.

Thankfully, you heard her heels click away from the door. Your hands went limp to your sides and narrowed your eyes on Taeyong who chuckled quietly. "That was not funny," you scowled after collected your breath.

"It was. You should have seen yourself."

"What if she walked in?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Free show."

You smacked his shoulder hard and he laughed it off. "Let's hurry this up. I'm tired."

Taeyong arched a brow. "My doll is tired? How is that possible? We're barely getting started."

You scoffed. "Oh really? After that fun you decided to play out and me making sure I didn't give away what we were doing in here, you don't think it's possible?"

He flushed his body against yours as he pressed you further into the wall, leaving no gap between his chest and your breasts. You silently wished that the two of you were bare chested for you to feel his hard chest against your soft one, though that could wait till you were somewhere out of public place. His fingers came up to lightly trail along your jaw as he hummed against your cheek, the tip of his nose sending tingles throughout your body. "We're gonna have to work on upping your stamina, doll."

Without warning, he dug his fingers into your hips and kept you still as he pounded in and out of your heat, not giving you time to prepare yourself in keeping quiet. Your eyes pricked with tears as you felt the delicious pleasure near and did your best to muffle your moans and cries against your hand.

"You sound so fucking beautiful, doll. You should let it out, let them hear how nice you're feeling," he grunted out and shifted your ass to hit you in a slightly different angle and that was when it hit you.

Your cry hit a higher note, though gratefully not enough to hear an employee call for you again. Your muscles clenched around him as he fucked you out during your high, him bursting inside you not too long after.

After catching your breaths, he set you on your feet and you reached for the wall to hold yourself up as Taeyong fixed his pants back up to his hips.

His eyes landed on the supposed pants for purchase. Casting a nasty look at it, he asked, "Isn't it a hassle? Now you have to put your pants on. You didn't have to worry about that with your dress."

This guy and his hatred for pants was very interesting.

Huffing, you took off the blazer and Taeyong whistled with a pleased look. "Are we going for round two?"

You faked a smile and flung the blazer at his head, covering his sight. His shoulders shook as he laughed while you retrieved your panties from the discarded pants and put your own skirt and shoes back on. You draped the pants over your arm and went to rip the blazer off his head. Taeyong trailed behind you as you made your way to the door.

Opening it, you were stunned by a woman in uniform waiting on the other side with wide eyes. "Uh- I hope everything is okay," she stammered.

Shit. You screamed a series of curses in your head, wondering how long the employee stood there while you were being fucked.

Taeyong calmly walked past your shocked self and stood in front of the woman. He shoved his hands in his pockets and tilted his head. "I wonder what assistance you would have given for our love-making session," he said with a joking glint in his eyes.

All the colour drained from her face as she stood still like a statue. Her expression was masked in sheer horror, and you yelled at him. "Taeyong!" His laughter boomed as he sauntered away. You gave her a sheepish smile. "I'm so sorry," you gently apologized and hurriedly scattered away from her horrified figure. You discarded the clothes on a nearby rack and yanked Taeyong by his arm, dragging him out the store and promising yourself to never step foot in there again.

tag list: @cosmiclatte28 @mel-yjh @johnnysuhisnotmyproblem @kttyongie @chantellsievert 

[alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer]

seventeen (paris, 1901)

this is inspired by "seventeen" by MARINA! i recommend giving it a listen! the way she sings the chorus honestly gives me chills, it really makes me think about how young alastair was when all of this was happening. sorry in advance for the angst!

cw: toxic relationship, bullying

Read on AO3 | Masterlist

Could never tell you what happened

The day I turned seventeen

Seventeen, Alastair thought. The number sat happily in his mind. It wasn’t a particularly special number. He still was not an adult in the eyes of the Clave, but he took comfort in the number. One year older.

When he was younger, he thought of his birthdays and the years passing optimistically, imagining that in the future there would eventually be a day where he felt like the age of his body matched the age of his mind. Now, however, he doubted that day would ever come.

Adults liked to tell him he had an ‘old soul.’ Parents always commented on his maturity. Not his parents, of course, but when he visited the boys from school or his family found themselves at some gathering of sorts, those were the words he always heard. Oh, Alastair is so mature for his age.

Perhaps that was his problem, he’d always thought. That was the reason he could never make friends the way that Cordelia did. The reason he never got on well with people his own age. He was never any sort of teacher’s pet in school, but he always found it easier to converse with adults nonetheless. He felt far more comfortable with Charles than he ever did with any of the boys from the Academy. It was all because he had an old soul, and his peers did not.

As he grew older, however, these designations made less and less sense to him. He did not feel as if his soul was old at all. In fact, most of the time, he felt more like a thirteen-year-old pretending to be a thirty-year-old than anything else. Now, he was certain that he would never feel like his physical age fit the rest of him. Still, seventeen was a nice number.

Alastair didn’t have strong feelings about birthdays. Most of the time, he simply did not wish for the attention. Back before he went away to school, birthdays were never much of an ordeal. They were far too busy with his father’s health to spend much time, money, or energy on something as relatively insignificant as a birthday. Still, he and Cordelia had a habit of making each other presents for their birthdays. His was in early autumn, September, and they’d spend the day outside, wherever they were living.

They’d collect the prettiest flowers and stones and anything else they could find, then build whatever they could make out of what they had. A castle out of clay; a crown out of twigs. It was nice; it was special. It was theirs.

Then, Alastair went away to the Shadowhunter Academy. He was not excited to spend his fourteenth birthday alone. He missed Cordelia dearly, and the bullying did nothing to help. On the morning of his birthday, he’d gone to the mess hall, attempting to contain both his excitement that there would be letters waiting for him and his anxiety that there would not.

When he arrived, however, the boys were waiting for him, Clive and Augustus and the rest. Clive was in the front, holding an opened envelope. He twirled a flower stem in his fingers, the petals clearly torn off. He could see a few other broken flowers, crushed at his feet. Augustus was beside him, holding out a letter for the others to see, already mocking the writing on the page simply because he could not read it.

Alastair would never read it either, whatever his mother had written him, nor would he read Cordelia’s letter. In fact, he would not remember most of that day at all, only the bruises after.

He did not write to them after that, and when he returned for the winter holidays, conveniently the same time as Cordelia’s birthday, he let the occasion pass without a word. When she asked him if he’d received the flowers she sent to him, he told her he didn’t.

She did not send him anything for his fifteenth birthday.

He spent his sixteenth birthday at home again, but it did not matter. He’d already put far too much distance between him and his sister. He considered trying to apologize for the way he’d treated her, promising to do better, but when the day came, he’d spent the entirety of the night before searching for their father who always decided to go on a bender a few weeks after they arrived in a new city. He’d wistfully wished himself a happy birthday at some early morning hour, gone to bed, and decided it simply was not worth the effort. The only thing he wanted for his birthday was for it to no longer be his birthday anymore.

Today, he was finally seventeen. He’d received two letters at the Paris Institute the day before, one from his mother, wishing him well on his travel year, and the other from his sister, though it was short and he was fairly certain their mother had forced her to write it. There were no flowers, and he did not deserve them. The boys at school may have hurt him, but the way he continued to treat her in the years after was entirely on him. He thought for a moment that he should find her something in Paris, a book or a piece of jewelry so beautiful and thoughtful that she would need to forgive him. He did not believe he deserved her forgiveness, though.

Charles was away visiting his family in London, so Alastair would spend his seventeenth birthday alone. He doubted Charles even remembered it anyways, or that he would have wanted to do anything special for it if he had.

Thus, he did what he did any time he needed some cheering up: he started by visiting various bookshops across the city. He did not typically purchase much from them, but he found the atmosphere comforting. His father was an avid reader and was always severely critical of his son’s tastes in literature. He had many opinions over what was worthy of reading and what was an utter waste of time. Any time Alastair attempted to choose a volume to purchase for himself, he inevitably felt his father’s voice creeping up in the back of his mind. He wasn’t certain whether he preferred the books that the voice favored or the ones it didn’t. Nonetheless, he disliked anything that reminded him of his father, so he resigned himself to casual browsing, purchasing books as gifts for others, and only ever buying for himself what he had the space to hide.

After, he’d take himself to an art exhibit or the Louvre. He was fairly certain he could spend weeks in the Louvre and never grow tired of it.

When he finally returned to the Paris Institute that evening, he’d felt content that at the very least, his birthday was not as terrible as the ones preceding it. As he entered the building, he was startled to see Charles’ coat in the cloakroom. He quickly hung up his own belongings and went to the dining room where dinner was already being served. Charles was there, politely chatting in French with the head of the Institute, Jean Beauvale.

“Monsieur Fairchild!” It felt odd to address him so formally, but while it may be appropriate to address Charles by his first name in English, it was not in French. “You’ve returned from London.”

“Yes, I just got in a few hours ago,” Charles responded. “How was your day?”

“Yes,” Monsieur Beauvale added. “You must tell us how you spent your day off.”

Alastair always felt like this question was a bit of a trap. He knew that Shadowhunters viewed art and literature as a waste of time, but at the same time, he did not want to show a lack of appreciation for the culture. In the end, he simply commented on the beauty of the city and the language, thankful that he could spend a bit more time learning about France.

A servant arrived then with a bottle of champagne, and Monsieur Beauvale proposed a toast. This was how Alastair learned that the Beauvales would be traveling for several months, and Charles would serve as interim head of the Institute. “That is not the only thing we have to congratulate you for, is it,” he added.

Charles grinned a humble, sympathetic politician’s grin. “Oh, thank you, Monsieur. Yes, it’s true, Ariadne Bridgestock and I are to be married,” he announced.

Alastair felt his blood run cold. He bit the insides of his cheeks, forcing a smile and a congratulations. The rest of the meal dragged on, though Monsieur Beauvale and Charles did not seem to sense any tension. When it was over, Alastair promptly excused himself and returned to his room. He suddenly wished desperately that he had purchased a book earlier, anything to take his mind off of this awful truth. Charles was to be married. He was marrying a woman. Of course he was, why would Alastair have ever been enough for him? Still, he felt as if he’d at least been owed a warning.

He heard a knock at his door, but he did not respond to it. “Alastair,” he heard Charles say gently. “Please allow me to explain.”

He should have refused. He should have told him to leave and been done with the whole ordeal. When he looked back on this moment years in the future, he’d wish he did. However, he was lonely, and it was his birthday, and thus he let Charles inside.

“I know you’re upset,” he began.

“I’m not upset,” Alastair said quickly.

“Right,” he responded. “Anyways, this is merely what needs to be done to please our families, both mine and Ariadne’s.” Of what Alastair knew of the Fairchilds, he had a hard time believing that they cared that much about Charles’ romantic life. “This is what I need to do if I wish to secure a position in the Clave, a real position, not simply interim head of an Institute. It means nothing, I swear it. She has no interest in me. It’s merely an arrangement; it’s not real.”

“Not real? You mean, you’re not getting married?” Alastair asked, not fully believing Charles’ words.

“No,” he said quickly. “I mean, perhaps, one day far, far in the future, I will need to, but I have no intention of getting married right now. I am merely doing what I must, you understand that, don’t you?”

“I suppose.”

“You know what the world we live in is like. We must do what we can to ensure our success in it.” Satisfied with Alastair’s reluctant acceptance, he pulled a long, thin box from his pocket. “I have a present for you.”

Alastair blinked. “What?”

“You didn’t think I would forget your birthday, did you?” Charles handed him the box, already smiling in anticipation.

He slowly untied the string securing it, and uncovered a fine, ornate dagger made of stunning Damascus steel. He must have paid handsomely for it. He knew that Charles did not understand his collection of blades, why someone, a warrior, would collect weapons with no intention of using them, but the dagger was gorgeous, each element of it expertly chosen. Alastair could not keep himself from smiling.

“I knew you’d like it,” Charles said, pleased. “Alastair, you know how deeply I care for you. I would never do anything to hurt you. I swear, everything I do is so that you and I could be together.”

Alastair looked at him in stunned silence. He’d never heard those words before, but he’d hear them many, many more before their relationship finally came to an end. At that moment, Alastair felt as if Charles’ words were true. He felt as if there had never been anyone to care for him as much as Charles cared for him, and there never would. He felt as though the key to everything he desired lay within this man. The way he was looking at him, this beautiful dagger in his hands, how was he to feel anything but loved?

He’d look back on it years down the line and wonder how long Charles must have planned that moment, if he’d organized his trip and his engagement all around Alastair’s birthday so that he could have an excuse to give him such a very expensive gift, whether the existence of it was merely a ploy to distract him from the reality of his engagement. If it was, it worked.

That night, Alastair held no doubts in his mind that Charles’ words were anything but the full truth, even as he left him cold and alone that night to return to his own room, only ever staying until he himself was satisfied. Many months would pass before Alastair would even begin to question that night, when he would begin to wonder whether it was the beginning of the end.

The rise of a king and the fall of a queen,

Oh, seventeen

Seventeen

thanks for reading! taglist (lmk to be added/removed or if you only want to be tagged in certain fics):  @stxr-thxif @satanisanauthor @zosiaenrique @lifewouldbebetteronmars @littlx-songbxrd @dianasarrow @eugeniaslongsword @bookswitchcraftandcats @jamesherondaleofficial @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood @livingformyself @anarmorofwords @foxglove-airmid @writeforjordelia @sapphic-in @jem-nasium @fortheloveofthecarstairs

[curly-bangtan]

Heatwave Drabble #9: sweet night (M)

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

Pairing: Taehyung x reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

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

Four weeks. Not a word to each other.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The realisation haunts you every night.

.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’ll be okay.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lotta…”

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

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

This can’t be happening.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And this weekend, you’re going to die.

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

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

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

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

“Y-Y/N?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck. Wait, what the fuck.

You flip back to the front page.

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

Strawberry… Love…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Reconcile.

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

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

Reconciliation doesn’t seem possible in the foreseeable future.

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

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

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

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

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

Do you want to talk it out?

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

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

One: The Hurting Each Other.

You fuck guys without learning their names.

Two: The Guilt-Tripping.

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

Three: The Falling Apart

I… I thought it was clear how I felt…

Always replaying in a loop.

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

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

It’s better this way.

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

.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nothing but heavy breathing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We’ve arrived.” Jae winces.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You are sharing a…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And there goes your chance of rectifying this weekend.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You glance up, you can’t help it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, you have dirt on your face.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Completely unnecessary and petty move, whatever.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Things’, meaning you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taehyung regrets everything.

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

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

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

It can, and it did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are we just not going to speak?”

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

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

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

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

“I mean-”

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

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

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

“How exactly is it going to change anything?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

You stare at your own reflection in the mirror.

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

What resonates with you most is the word closure.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No! You’ll be cold.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You stop breathing.

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

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

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

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

“Yes…?”

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

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

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

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

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

You could say no, right? Just say no.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Instead, you nod, “Mmm, yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taehyung’s arm is around you. Still.

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

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

He stirs, pulls you in tighter.

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

Lethargy immediately expelled, your eyes open wide.

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

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

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

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

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

Your core dampens and you quickly turn back around.

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

But God, you fucking miss this.

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

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

So what now?

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

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

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

Fuck.

You can’t.

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

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

“You’re hard.”

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

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

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

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

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

You want to fuck. You want to fuck Taehy-

Stop that fucking thought.

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

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

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

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

Another pulse down there.

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

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

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

Fuck.

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

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

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

Happy Valentine’s Sunday indeed.

.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ve got flour on your face.”

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

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

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

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

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

Yes, something has definitely shifted since last night.

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

Kiss him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So… You’re down.”

“Down.”

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

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

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

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

End this once and for all with a bang.

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

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

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

Your breath feels shaky.

“So…”

“So…”

His throat is trembling too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So you just lean down to kiss him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Baby.

That is your undoing.

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

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

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

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

“It’s ‘coz I haven’t…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You stop.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then don’t.”

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

“Then don’t live without me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you. And I’m yours.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“F-Fine.”

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

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

Stiffening, Taehyung looks down. “Yes…”

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

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

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

“You up for it?” A smirk stretches.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah!” Taehyung yelps.

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

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

“You should be scared.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hmm.” Arms sliding around his neck, you let him walk you onto the bed, hovering over you while his hands fondle your breasts that have become lonely. The insides of your thighs are slick with your arousal - that doesn’t go unnoticed.

Scissoring your folds open with his long digits, this thumb finds your clit, bulging and throbbing with desire. The vibrations coursing into you as he starts to rub compels you to arch back. You are really just a plaything when under his touch, as malleable as dough.

“Taehyung!” And for some reason, you calling out his name flips an animalistic switch in him.

With your neck fully exposed, he ceases the opportunity to nibble all over your unmarred skin, leaving angry blotches in return of your marks on him. This thumb is working quickly, the pressure at your clit superimposing second by second.

“Wait.” He lifts his head up abruptly, though fingers still going. “Do you want to sit on my face?”

Your heart jolts in excitement at the mere mention of it. “Didn’t even have to ask.” It has always been something you’ve wanted to try but never gotten around to.

Swapping positions, Taehyung reclines onto his back while you situate your knees on either side of his face. His hands grip onto your waist, guiding your descent onto his thrill-teeming face.

An incredible shock of pleasure fires up your spine when he takes your clit between his lips and sucks. This position grants him an unobstructed access to your pussy, no awkward angle, no cramping neck. So the assail he commences is totally, and unfortunately for your lucidity, merciless. His hands grapple onto your freely hanging breasts, rolling your nipples between fingertips.

Crying aloud from the ecstatic twisting sensation, you feel your eyes water. It’s almost too much, the mind warping accumulation of tension in your cunt. “Like that, Taehyung.”

One of his hands leaves your breast only to insert his digits into your dripping slit. Your thighs are aching, close to giving way; you don’t think you can withstand this tremendous stimulation.

His tongue doesn’t stop and neither do his fingers. Breathing through his nose heavily, he continues to coil your core into loops and loops of hypertension

You’re so close, so close.

And you’re there.

The pulsing waves of your orgasm sweep you away. You don’t even hear your own moans, just the roaring of your blood in your ears. Your whole body writhes above Taehyung, but your muscles don’t permit you to move off him while so ransacked by this high.

It last long, nearing half a minute before your senses come back to you.

And finally, you sag and topple over, trusting Taehyung to catch you and roll you onto your back.

“What the fuck.” You pant, low frequency pulsations still resonating down your legs, in awe of how he never fails to tip you over the edge. And the striking difference between the male and female orgasm is that, unlike Taehyung, you immediately want more when you’re done. “Taehyung, please, I need you to fuck me.”

His reply startles you. “No.” You open your eyes and find him regarding you with such reverence that only confuses you more.

“No?”

Cupping your face in his palm as he props himself on his elbow over you, Taehyung leans down and kisses your nose. Then your mouth. “Y/N.” Your temple. “I want to.” Your ear. “Make love to you.”

He paints a constellation of wet kisses all over you.

“How does that sound, baby?”

You immediately pull him back onto your own lips, a desperate craving as you kiss him back hard. “I love you.” You really do. It’s the one thing you’re the most certain about in this world.

“Ahhh.” Readjusting over you yet still keeping the close distance between your faces, he takes his cock in his hand and pumps. “You know you do to me when you say those words?” He kisses you again, so softly that his lips feel like rose petals. As he lines his tips along your entrance, you shut your eyes and prepare for it.

“I love you.” You repeat. And he sinks in.

It feels different, so entirely different from the previous time tonight. There is not an ounce of concern, of doubt, of hesitancy. You feel safe underneath him, secure.

His tender moans unravelling into songs of vulnerability. “I love you, too.” He whispers into your ear, and you understand what he means by how much these three words have an effect because them alone are almost enough to capsize you again.

His thrust, though lacking its usual roughness, does not lack in anything else. Every time he plummets into you, his mouth finds yours. Your hands are interlocked, pinned down onto the pillow. The surprising intimacy of that act overflowing to the brim. And you swear you could see heaven right then and there.

You feel nothing but love and devotion throughout.

He makes love to you over and over again this night, Valentine’s night. And despite your usual preferences, the sensations between your legs, in your chest, in your mind, are unrivaled.

Transcendental.

When it’s all over, when you’re nothing more than sweaty skin, damp hair, and hearts full of love for each other, you spend your time taking in each other’s details. His unblemished complexion. The beauty mark under the lashes of his right eye. The perfect shape of his cupid's bow that doesn’t seem humanly possible. Everything.

“What we had didn’t work, but we’re not going to repeat those mistakes again, I won’t hurt you again, I promise.” You whisper softly as you caress his cheek. “It’s all or nothing. And you have all of me.”

The glaze over his sincere eyes hasn’t left yet, though you don’t suppose your eyes are completely dry either.

You continue, “Seeing you break down like that today was… the hardest thing for me to witness. So much worse that our stupid pointless fights, and the nights where I would cry myself to sleep. And I can’t apologise enough for causing you that much pain.”

Taehyung’s eyes trailing down bashfully, and you almost worry that he’d cry again.. “I… I can’t believe the day finally came where I cried during sex…” You let out a round of laughter at what he chooses to dwell on.

“I love you so much that it makes me sick. I’m honestly disgusted and mortified by myself.” You snicker in his hair.

“Look, what about me? I love you so much that I cried during sex. Not even just a tear either. Full on sobs. I think I’m the bigger loser here.” The fact that he can joke about the situation reassures you that he’s over it. The mood once again lightens.

“All this just because you couldn’t keep your dick in your pants during a heatwave.”

He pulls you closer into his rumbling chest, laughing to himself as he toys with your earlobe between his teeth.

You fall asleep in each other’s arms, for the first time as each other’s lovers. And for the rest of the nights that come after.

.

A/N: Alexa, play ‘Fuck it I love you’ by Lana Del Rey.

Thank you everyone for the incredible love and support you’ve unfailingly shown Heatwave. As my first fic, I am of course so very attached to these characters and ending this series is such a bittersweet feeling. It’s been such a lovely journey to write this couple and although I don’t plan on writing anything for them in the next few months, I won’t close off that possibility completely.

Love you!

- Kristy

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27/04/20

© Copyright 2020

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[slashingdisneypasta]

Inkubus x Vampire!Fem!Reader || Oneshot

Title: Always There

Notes:

I think outta all Englund's characters on this blog, I like writing for Inkubus the most. Which is criminal seeing as I write for him the least. I need to change that haha.

Plot: You meet up with a very old friend of yours and you spend some time catching up. And he's so clearly in love with you, its unbelievable and torturous to him that no matter what he does, you don't notice.

Warnings: A very unreliable narrator (In terms of particular other peoples clear feelings for her), BLOOD, DRINKING BLOOD, DRAINING SOMEONE OF BLOOD (But in a sort of polite way? Hah), MENTIONS OF AN ABUSIVE EX PARTNER, vampires and incubus'.

The smell of iron and petrichor fills your nostrils, disgusting and refreshing and also, just... relieving... in equal measure filling you up as you kneel by the victim - the man you'd chosen, - for tonight; A needle and tube attached to a blood bag between your fingers and digging into the poor mans neck.

You hate doing this, knowing this guy will be weak and sick feeling for the next day - maybe two depending on how much you take from him, - without understanding why. But, its for sure better then the alternative- which is just digging in right here and now with your teeth. That's messy, and the marks you leave behind aren't easy to explain away as 'animal attacks' anymore.

You need the blood, but you aren't a savage, jeez. You always catch any new vampire movies or shows together with your daughter and watch those actors with blood all over their chins, and think... How old are these vamps supposed to be?? 300 hundred years old!?

And they don't know how to eat without getting it all over their face?

Pfft! Rolling your eyes, you gently shake your head at the memories of bloody Edward Cullen and Lestat and Damon Salvetore swimming around in your head as watch the man's breathing. To be fair, you love them all - Twilight, Interview with a Vampire, The Vampire Diaries, Nosferatu, Vampires Vs the Bronx, etc, - but that's just because its more fiction then truth- and that's coming from an honest to goodness bloodsucker.

Finally deciding you've taken enough without truly hurting the man, you put pressure on his neck and pull out the needle, carefully wipe away any mess with a cotton ball from your bag and put a band aid on him.

"Now," You talk firmly, softly, as you look into his eyes - which are dull, almost sleeping. A nice touch to the docile state you put your victims, in so they can at least not feel any pain or fear while you're collecting your feed, - , hands on his shoulders. "You're not going to remember this, or me. You're going to get a taxi home," You tuck some money in his shirt pocket, a thank you for his service; Its the least you could do. "Then get into bed and have a wonderful sleep with lots of lovely dreams. Thank you so much."

After you watch the man get up, still in a bit of daze but shaking it off - and not even noticing your presence, crouched down by where he's standing, - and leave the alleyway, you carefully pack away the blood bag and the tube and needle (In a separate plastic bag, for you to clean and sanitise when you get home) in your satchel and finally get back up, wrapping the strap over your head and resting it on your shoulder.

Brushing a hand through your hair, you turn to leave the alleyway and go home- when a familiar voice speaks up from the very back of the alley- and immediately your hopes rise.

"You look even more beautiful every time I see you."

You smile, peering into the darkness. "Oh, that's very sweet... but you and I both know I look like trash. I haven't eaten for a week!" When he just chuckles back, you tilt your head and waive him over. "Come out here so I can see you!; When did you get into town?"

Gracefully - more so then even you can manage, being a goddamn vampire, - Inkubus slips out of the darkness and you're happy to see he looks well. Its been forever since you say him last - 40 years? 70? - and you always have it in the back of your head for some reason that next time you see your friend, it'll be the last time. So its always lovely when he turns up and looks just as healthy as he always does.

"Oh I just got here; Thought I would come see you immediately. Otherwise you might nag at me." This time you chuckle, rolling your eyes. His eyes flicker to your satchel. "Collecting our dinner our we?"

"Yep! Smells like A Negative, my favourite. When was the last time you ate?"

"Ohh, a couple weeks ago. I'm due for my next fill soon, though... any suggestions?"

"No," Scrunch up your nose, you put a lot of emphasis on your response; See, you don't subscribe to the notion that monsters like the two of you have to act all blasé and cocky about the terrible things they must do. Apart from these night time trips to find breathers to bleed, you live a... mostly... normal life! So no- you definitely don't know anyone he can make his next victim.

And Inkubus knows this, which is why he laughs and you roll your eyes again at him, fixing the satchel on your shoulder. "So- " Again his eyes flicker to your bag, this time with meaning. A cheeky grin flits across his lips. "Want to get a drink?"

Smiling, you turn on your heel, you loop your arm through his and lead the way. "So have you been?"

___TIME SKIP___

4 hours later and the two of you are still stewing at a 24-Hour-Diner you frequent - seeing as you don't really sleep that much, - and are onto your 9th drinks at this point. You two may not see each other too often since the 1400's and went your separate ways in the world, but you never go longer then a hundred years - preferably 80 maximum, - without seeing each other and when you do- you have a lot to say. Filling each other in on what you've missed in each others lives is always a... disorientating experience, at times, but you must do it. You couldn't survive in a world where you didn't know what was happening in your best friends life. That would just be too lonely.

See, Inkubus is the only one you know - still, to this day, - who knew you when you were human, aside from the man referred to very nearly exclusively as 'Dick for brains' - being your daughters father, - and while having human friends who can make you feel normal again, is wonderful... so is feeling normal, in what you actually are currently. And that's not human. That's thousands and thousands of years old and a mystery to scientists. And, seeing as he's a literal demon... that's a very easy service for him to provide.

A waitress walks by to pick up you empty glasses and looks oddly at your personal tumbler. You clearly weren't meant to notice, but you do of course, and unassumingly shrug. "Bloody Mary... don't tell." You give her a conspiratorial wink, and she chuckles, walking off.

When you look back to Inkubus, he looks ready to make a joke so you give him a timid shrug. "Well, there is vodka and Tobasco sauce in it!... " He smirks, but lets it go- seeing as your words were funny enough.

"And how is Bethany? Has she seen her father lately...?" Your eyebrows arch, hearing Inkubus ask about him; Dick for Brains, Beth's father and the bane of your long, long existence. Obviously, seeing as the bastard impregnated you with his literal spawn of hell causing you to die during childbirth at age 26 so he could then turn you into a vampire, made you raise your daughter alone- and then returned 20 years later just to turn Beth into a vampire as well and claim that you can all be a 'proper family now'... you aren't a huge fan of the guy. And talking about him you don't do often, as it causes a horrible clenching feeling in your stomach and heart. Luckily, Inkubus is one of the few people who is allowed to make you feel that way. Him, and Beth.

You sigh, taking a slow sip of your drink through the matching metal straw and metal tumbler set Beth got your last mothers day (So as to hide the fact that its blood inside), you wonder what to say... "Beth's great, as always... she's fallen in love with a human, though. That can only end brilliantly." Shaking your head, you look to Inkubus to see his reaction and catch him rolling his eyes, smirking. Yep. "Um, and... yes. There has been contact with Dick for Brains... He recently, like... 20 years ago? turned up at her place in Egypt, and wouldn't leave till I had to fly down there and shoo him away." You grit your teeth. There is so much wrong with that man- you do honestly with you had never met him sometimes. That's horrible, you know, as if you hadn't met him you wouldn't have had Beth and she's the light of your life, but... at times like that instance? When he troubles her?

Its hard to not wish his existence away.

"Do you want me to speak with him?... Again... ?" Your gaze returns to Inkubus again, feeling at ease the moment your minds back in the diner with him and not in your head with Dick for Brains; Eyes softening. The idea is tempting, unbelievably tempting... And it would keep your friend around awhile longer. "That always seems to win you a couple hundred years of reprieve."

Taking a deep, needless breath - an anxious habit, - you set down your tumbler and shake your head. "No, that's okay... thank you for the offer, though. He seems to be giving up, slowly, finally. But damn, its taken him long enough to get the hint, huh?"

"Far too long." Inkubus' voice is bitter and dark, talking about your ex- and his eyes are reading much different. You know if you let him, he would kill Derek... but you cant do that. If anyone's going to kill him, it would be you or Beth, and neither of you are there yet. Inkubus takes a deep breath, relaxing again like a chameleon changing its colours. "Anyway, love; Onto prettier business. How did that thing go, that you had with that Djinn half a century ago. You seemed quite optimistic about that one."

A fluttering of laughter immediately comes out of you and Inkubus' truly cheers up at the sight of it, and you just look at him and shake your head; An awkward toothless smile on your lips. Ha! No.

His brows arch, laughter in his eyes. "Didn't end well?"

"That ended up being the shortest affair I've ever had and that's saying something." Brushing hair back from your face, you chew on your bottom lip. "You'd think after nearly 10 centuries, I'd learn... Oh- wait- make that 10 and nearly a half, centuries... Boy, am I clueless."

"Clueless about what, love?" You're just breathing in to respond, when a cheeky look crosses Inkubus' familiar face. "I mean, you are quiet clueless- about plenty of things. But specifically, this time."

You scrunch up your nose at him in response, grinning, before once again chewing on your bottom lip. "... I'm just not the woman that gets proposed to." You shrug, as if its no big deal; Even though your heart bleeds saying it out loud for the first time, to someone that matters and not just your ex-therapist, Julie. Setting your drink on the table in front of you, you idlily twist it. "Obsessed over and stalked, yes." You grin, a tinge of sadness to it. "Fucked, yes. Dated even, yes. But married?... Ha, no... "

His eyebrows climb up his forehead even more, before he softly smiles and pats your hand. "I asked you to marry me, all those years ago, sweetheart. Remember?" He reminds you gently, and you cant help giving a soft smile back at your well-meaning friend.

"Oh, yes of course I do. That was very sweet, but... I mean for love, you know? Not because I'm pregnant and alone."

Inkubus sighs, slightly frustrated, and leans back in his seat. "Mhmmm... " Rubbing a finger under his nose, he quickly clears his throat. Then he reaches his hand further up your arm to lay it on your forearm, running his thumb comfortingly across your skin. "Love, I'm sure that you'll find someone. Perhaps multiple someone's. Or, maybe, you don't need to find anyone new."

A little smile twitches at your lips as you pick up his hands and hold it on the table in both of yours. "... Maybe." For a split millisecond, your friend smiles. Sighing wistfully, you shrug. "Maybe I can learn to be happy alone. I mean, I like my life. I like my daughter, I like my job, I like my patterns... Maybe I don't need a man." Immediately his smile disappears and he rolls his eyes.

"You definitely don't need a man." He sighs, frowning. "But one can be good for a few things, no?"

"Hey." You set him with a stern look. "I thought we were making me feel better, about not having one?"

"Oh, you're right. I rescind my comment."

"You better." A cheeky grin crosses your face.

He looks back at it, the cheeky grin of yours, and the smile returns to his face.

~

The sun is warming up when you're on your way home, Inkubus beside you with his arms folded carefully behind his his back and your hands stuffed in your leather jacket pockets; One arm linked affectionately through his. You're an odd sight, you're sure, to any early morning commuters. You, and your barely-out-of-college looking self walking so close - and so domestically. A fact that is lost on you but not on the smug demon walking beside you, - to a man that currently looks to be in his 60's-70's age-wise.

Not that either of you care.

"Well, this is my place! Whatdaya think?" You ask, letting him go in order to unlock the door or the townhouse apartment and push open the door. He walks on in past you, looking around and you watch a soft smile grace his handsome features. "You like it?"

"Much better then the hole in the wall you thought was a good idea to show me in Transylvania- took everything in me not to sweep you away somewhere safer... with fewer mould spores... " He turns to look at you over his shoulder, a mischievous smirk on his mouth as you scrunch up your nose at him, before smiling.

"Well then, Mr Judgmental... I guess you don't want to know, that I chose this wallpaper cuz of you."

That definitely catches his attention, more then anything else you've said. He turns around in a full 360, assessing the wallpaper before looking curiously at you. "You... you chose this wallpaper because of... me? How so?"

You shrug, still leaning back against the open front door- sunlight filtering through the doorway. "The colour is very you. Its got 'Inkubus' vibes. You know," Raising your brows at him, you smirk. "Eccentric, full of itself." At that cheeky remark, he says 'Ha ha', sarcastically. "And, I guess, I missed you. Sooo... yeah... wallpaper."

"Hm... " Looking really far too pleased about this, looking a lot more engrossed by the home then before- but mostly the wallpaper. "This place is looking better, suddenly... "

"Like I said- Full of itself." You roll your eyes, laughing. Then you push off the door, push it closed with your foot and then go to pass by Inkubus to hit the livingroom. "Oh! The book! The one we were talking about at the diner- I'll find it for you! Come on- "

"Y/N." A hand curls gently around your arm, at the perfect moment so that you don't get yanked back with the force of your travelling and instead you just coat to a careful halt at Inkubus' side.

Blinking up at him curiously, wondering what he needed you for so suddenly, you tilt your head to the side. "Yes?"

For a good moment, he just looks at you whilst you become worried. What is happening? Every second that passes by, more and more ridiculous ideas cross your mind.

Finally, the man tilts his head slightly in sincerity.

"Sweetheart, are you ever going to see how ridiculously in love with you I am?"

And... for all of the disastrous and ridiculous possibilities that came to mind when he was saying nothing, you had a response. To this, you just stand their dumbly, your shoulders dropping and just looking at him in total shock. "... wel- uh- um... a few more hundred years?" You feel like a ton of bricks has just been dropped on top of you. "Maybe?" You squeak. You actually squeak.

And of course, you squeaked. You'd be surprised if you had managed to keep your composure after a confession like that. Here's this beautiful man, who against all foreseeable odds understands you, and cares about your kid, and whom you love... and somehow he's telling you that he loves you? That, for some reason, he wants you?

Is there something wrong with him?

There must be. Something terribly, horrible, irreversibly offensive that you aren't already aware of.

But you rack your brain and theirs nothing. Nothing, at all, that you can figure that would make you turn away from him right now.

He smiles a little bit at your awkward reaction, and lets go of your wrist in favour of tucking some hair back behind your ear. "Do you quite mind if I kiss you now?"

Your breath hitches, it actually hitches, like a tiny shy anime girl who's giant crush just got down on his knees in front of her for whatever reason, and you have to fight to pull yourself together; Rolling your shoulders back, hands on your hips. Totally, and translucently fake confident. "Um- you know? I don't?"

God, you are a centuries old vampire; Your vernacular should be yards better then this.

And then kisses you.

Oh god- And then he kisses you.

Because you're suddenly struck hard in the face with a million words and phrases, from current to boomer-speak to old fashioned to forgotten, to describe it but mostly you're just wondering why in the world you hadn't been doing this the whole damn time. Your hands find the sides of his coat in order to steady yourself, and pull him closer as you carefully tilt your head into the kiss. It comes so naturally, the kissing does. Between you and him. Its like, despite the bounds of your relationship never having reached this level before, you know exactly how to kiss each other. There's no awkwardness or searching. You just fit.

When finally, you slowly end the kiss, you fail to open your eyes for a good moment, before cracking them open slightly, half lidded and flickering up to his eyes.

And you take a deep, unnecessary breath and step away, torturously out of Inkubus' personal space. "... holy shit." You have so many questions... None of which touch on how exactly you're feeling because you get that much, at least.

But you cant help but wonder why- and for how long this has been brewing and how long exactly that you missed it- and how the hell this is going to work-

He follows you, thank god, a roguish yet soft look on his face. "Maybe we should take this to the livingroom, love. I promise, I can explain everything to you."

[ukulelecal]

Bloom - Part One

The story of flowers.

Pairing: Poet!Luke Hemmings x Female!OC

Warnings: angst!!!! implied smut. perhaps a swear or two. mostly angst

Word count: 4.4k

A/N: can yall believe that this video sent me so feral that i wrote this whole lil mini series in like five days?? i'm not surprised tbh. ANYWAY omg i really am excited for y'all to read this!!! i hope you love it!!! i would love your feedback, and please please remember that reblogs mean the absolute world to creators!

series masterlist

masterlist // posted on ao3

Devon would never forget the first poem Luke wrote for her.

He was a blushing mess as he handed her the folded piece of paper, insisting she read it later because he didn’t want to see her reaction. He had a lip ring then, blond hair spiked up and a wardrobe full of band t-shirts and black skinny jeans. He certainly didn’t look like how anyone would imagine a poet, but one look at his work would tell anyone that he had the mind for the craft.

Luke’s way with words was unmatched. Devon always called it a superpower; the way he was able to capture readers with words strung together so beautifully and paint a picture in the brain. He made people feel something. He had a gift, no doubt.

All of his poems were breathtaking, and he wrote many for her. The first would always be her favorite.

It was called The Orchids. The poem compared a woman to a field of orchids, delicate and lush. It was simple but sweet. Devon vividly remembered the rush of giddiness she felt as she read it, knowing it was written just for her. She remembered calling Luke after reading it over and over again, gushing about how much she loved it. He explained to her later that he chose orchids because the color of the shirt she was wearing the day they met reminded him of them.

They were only freshmen in college then. First time away from home, getting their first taste of real independence. Of adulthood. They met in a seminar class that every first year student had to take. One that everyone else hated but Luke and Devon loved, just because they got to see each other. A couple of coffee dates lead to The Orchids, which lead to a loving relationship and many, many more poems.

College was just about to come to an end now. Graduation was coming up fast, and that brought the simultaneously exciting and dreadful question: what next?

The future was something that used to delight Luke and Devon. Countless nights, they talked about marriage, a house, a dog, children. Luke would be a renowned poet, Devon a respected social worker. They had it all planned out. Even if their white picket fence dreams fell through, they would be happy so long as they had each other.

With graduation creeping closer and closer, Devon wasn’t so sure about their plans.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want it anymore. She still loved Luke with all of her heart. She wanted everything they had talked about, a future with him. Some deeper thinking into her career led her heart elsewhere.

It came out at dinner one evening, sat at the table of Devon and Luke’s shared apartment that they had moved into junior year.

“I’ve been thinking about going to grad school,” she blurted out. She twisted her spaghetti on her fork to distract herself. His face lit up, but Devon didn’t quite share his excitement. She knew this was something she wanted, but she was about to make a huge sacrifice that she had been trying to convince herself that she was ready for.

“Yeah? That’s great, Dev!” Luke cheered. “Here?”

The proud smile on his face quickly dropped when he saw the look of dread on hers. Graduate school was certainly a good thing, but if she wasn’t thrilled, Luke knew there must be a catch.

“Not here?” Devon shook her head. “Then where?”

The name of the school that she mumbled under her breath made Luke’s heart sink. It was far away. Very far.

“Oh.”

Luke wanted to kick himself for being disappointed. It was selfish, so selfish. He should have been proud that Devon wanted to further her education, and he was. He couldn’t fathom trying to take that away from her, but the thought of his girl being so far away was gut wrenching.

He wiped the frown off his face as quickly as it came. He reminded himself that he needed to be supportive, even if it hurt.

“That’s awesome, baby. I’m really proud of you.”

Devon knew he wasn’t lying when he said he was proud of her, but she could tell he wasn’t as excited as he was trying to seem.

“You don’t have to act happy about this, Lu,” she murmured, still pushing her pasta around. “I know what you’re thinking.”

He sighed and dropped his fork on his plate. Of course she saw through him. She always did. After four years of being together, Devon knew Luke better than anyone.

“I really am proud of you for doing this, honey. Don’t think that I’m not. It’s just…” he trailed off, unable to think of a way to put what he wanted to say without sounding selfish. “It’s so far away.”

Devon swallowed the lump in her throat. She was headstrong, and she knew that she needed to put her career and her own desires first. That didn’t mean it hurt any less to move so far away from the love of her life.

“I know, bubs,” she whispered. “But this is something I really want for myself. For my future.”

“Oh, honey, I know,” Luke sighed, not wanting her to feel bad. “I want you to do this. But the distance...I know it’s selfish of me-”

“It’s not selfish, Luke,” she interrupted, shaking her head softly. “It’s not easy for me either. But this school has the best graduate program for social work. Besides, I haven’t finished my application yet and I’m applying to some other places too. I might not even get in.”

Perhaps the most selfish thing of all was that a tiny part of him hoped she wouldn’t get in. It would break her heart if she didn’t, but maybe she wouldn’t be so far. Luke hated himself for the thought even crossing his mind for a split second.

Devon could see how this was affecting him. She understood; she knew he was planning on proposing shortly after graduation, though they were in no hurry to actually get married until they both had secure jobs. Moving hundreds of miles away for two years undoubtedly threw a wrench in the plans.

She had gone back and forth for a while as she searched for grad schools. As much as she wanted to stay close, her future career was something that she valued greatly. Devon was a first generation college student, and she wanted nothing more than to make her family proud. However, Luke was important too. The distance wouldn’t be easy, but she tried to be optimistic. She could only hope that he would want to try too.

“Don’t think like that, Dev,” Luke mumbled. He let out a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair. His desire for Devon to succeed and his desire to keep her close were battling each other, and it only frustrated him.

He thought about his words for a few moments, but couldn’t find the right thing to say.

“We’ll talk about it later, okay?”

Devon gave a silent nod. She needed to let him feel this out, and honestly, she needed to do the same. Thinking about it was one thing, but actually telling Luke was another. She had been stressing over it for a while, and now that it was finally out, her and Luke had to actually deal with it together.

The couple finished their dinner in silence, the only sounds to be heard being the slight scraping of forks against plates and the occasional sighs.

Devon couldn’t help but feel guilty. Over the years, she had conditioned herself to put her own aspirations first. She had sacrificed a lot for others in her lifetime, but many people had made sacrifices for her as well. She felt she had found a balance between taking care of herself and taking care of the people around her. She knew that moving away for a while for her own benefit would have an effect on her relationship, but she didn’t feel as if she had to choose one or the other. If Luke was willing to try to make things work, then so was she.

Luke took his last bite of spaghetti and stood up from the table. He silently made his way to the sink to wash his plate before turning back to Devon.

“I’m going to write for a bit, okay?” He mumbled, slowly making his way towards the spare bedroom that doubled as his workspace. No doubt a poem was going to come out of everything he was feeling at the moment. Devon nodded and her brown eyes watched as Luke turned on his heel to walk away.

“Luke?” She called out before he got too far. He turned around with a hum of acknowledgement. “I love you.”

Despite the anxiety and dread he was feeling, he smiled.

He walked back over to where Devon still sat at the table. With her face cradled lovingly in his hands, he bent down to press a soft yet meaningful kiss to her lips. The kiss said that even if things were uncertain, this wasn’t over.

“I love you too.”

…

Devon’s breath caught in her throat when an email from her top choice grad school came through.

She had poured over her personal statement and fretted over her interview. No matter how much everyone assured her, she couldn’t help the anxiety that ate her away.

With a deep breath, she opened the email.

Accepted with a scholarship.

“Luke! Bubs, I got in! I got in!”

She ran into the spare bedroom where Luke was hunched over one of his many poetry notebooks. His head whipped up at his girlfriend’s yells, his brain taking a moment to process her words after being in the writing zone.

For a moment, neither of them were thinking about the distance. All that mattered was Devon’s amazing achievement.

Luke stood up to meet her. Devon practically tackled him in a hug and he easily held her close.

“Congratulations, honey,” he mumbled into her hair. “Fuck, I’m so proud of you.”

He held her for a few minutes, neither of them able to wipe the smiles off their faces. This meant a lot to Devon, and Luke knew it. He knew from the moment he met her that she was going to do great things in life. She was motivated, intelligent, passionate. Anyone could see it. It was one of the many things he loved about her.

Luke pulled away in favor of cupping her cheeks in his hands. Devon flushed under his adoring gaze, eyes falling downwards.

“You’re incredible, Devon Murphy.”

She kissed him as a form of thanks, melting into each other’s touch. Their eyes met when they pulled away, bright blue and warm brown. Devon wasn’t the wordsmith that Luke was, but she didn’t have to be. Her eyes and her actions told him and everyone else everything that they needed to know. Devon was in love with him, and Luke, her.

Even with Luke’s way with words, Devon could read his eyes too. They were just as expressive as his poetry. As they gazed at each other, she could see the flash of sorrow as his mind travelled elsewhere. She didn’t need to ask to know what he was thinking about.

“Luke…” she whispered with a softened gaze. The guilt was returning, although she knew she had nothing to feel guilty about. She had always struggled with her determination to put herself first. It wasn’t Luke’s fault either, however; his feelings about her leaving were completely valid.

“No. None of that right now,” he stated, shaking his head. “This is a huge accomplishment, Dev. We’re not going to be sad tonight.”

A grin tugged at the corner of Devon’s lips as Luke pulled away, grabbing his phone from the desk and sticking it in his pocket. He placed a hand on the small of her back and led her to the door of the bedroom.

“I think you deserve a celebratory dinner, honey, yeah?” He offered, handing trailing to the side to hold her waist. She chuckled and leaned into him.

“You could throw in a frozen pizza and I’d be happy, bubs.”

“Hell no,” he scoffed as if it was the most ridiculous suggestion in the world. “You just got into grad school! I’m taking you out for dinner. If you want pizza, we can get pizza, but not a frozen one.”

Devon couldn’t help but throw her arms around him again, burying her face into his chest. He tilted his head down to press a kiss to the top of her head. She knew this wasn’t easy, and she was beyond grateful that he was being supportive.

“Thank you, bubs. I love you.”

“I love you too, honey. So are we getting pizza, or do you want to go somewhere else? It’s up to you.”

“Pizza sounds good. Can we go to the place with the good garlic knots?”

Luke laughed as he slipped on his shoes.

“Of course we can.”

Devon slipped on her own shoes and grabbed her denim jacket from the hook by the door before the couple made their way downstairs. Luke’s beat up Prius came into view as they stepped into the parking lot. Devon had named the car Bertha; she was old and a little rusty, but she got the job done.

Luke drove to the small pizzeria not far from their apartment complex. Once inside, they were seated quickly and ordered garlic knots and a pizza to share.

“We haven’t talked much about your writing lately,” Devon said once the waitress walked away. “What have you been working on?”

Luke shrugged and sipped his water.

“Not much. I haven’t really gotten anything good out.”

Truthfully, he had written a lot of poems about Devon leaving. He wasn’t going to tell her that at their celebratory dinner, though.

“In a slump?” She queried sincerely.

“Yeah, a bit.”

“Maybe next weekend we can go out, go to the park. You always get inspired there.”

Luke grinned and reached across the table for her hand.

“I’d love that, Dev.”

The rest of dinner flew by, conversation getting lost in buttery garlic knots and savory pizza. Luke offered dessert, but Devon was too full to even think about it. A sly joke about having her for dessert at home had the giggling couple paying the check and driving home at record speed where Luke certainly made good on his promise.

Devon and Luke laid in bed that night where whispered I love you’s and gentle kisses put them to sleep. Not a negative thought in either of their minds. They were content, but the future still loomed menacingly ahead.

…

The apartment was once a place of solace. It was a place where Luke and Devon could get away from the stress of college life and simply be together. It was safe and comforting. A place they knew they were always welcome.

As time went on, the apartment slowly shifted from a place of joy to a place of dread.

Graduation day was coming up, and both Devon and Luke knew what that meant.

They busied themselves with assignments and exams, Devon simultaneously preparing herself for grad school. She didn’t say much about it to Luke; whenever it came up, the tension between them only got stronger. It led to them bickering about other things to avoid the conversation.

Before they knew it, graduation had come and passed. Devon and Luke officially had their bachelor’s degrees, Luke in creative writing and Devon in social work. The days leading up to it were a good distraction, celebrations with friends and family taking their minds off the move. But it was over. Devon needed to get to her new city soon to set up her new apartment and get her bearings before school started. It was time to face the music.

“Luke?” Devon mumbled as he came out of the spare bedroom. She had been waiting for him to finish so they could talk.

He sighed and sat down next to her on the couch, knowing exactly what this was about. They both had been dreading the conversation, but he knew just as well as her that they needed to discuss it before it was too late.

“Are you ready for this?” She whispered, glancing at him with sad eyes. He didn’t return her gaze.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to be away from you for this long, honey.”

Luke could feel his guard coming down. He wanted this for Devon, but he was struggling to keep his want for her to stay close suppressed.

“I don’t want you to think I’m not considering you in this,” she began, reaching for his hand in his lap. “Leaving won’t be easy for me either.”

“I know.”

He was too scared to say much else.

The couple was silent for a moment. They racked their brains for something to say that would make the situation easier on either of them.

“Maybe you could come with.”

Devon regretted it as soon as it came out of her mouth.

Luke huffed and sent her a look.

“You know I can’t do that.”

She did know. If he could do that, he would have jumped on the opportunity immediately. Luke couldn’t afford to move. He was working on fulfilling his lifelong dream of releasing a poetry book. He was getting so close. Publishers were starting to take interest in him, and he nearly had enough money saved to cover the costs. It was difficult to save money when his part time job at a local bookstore didn’t pay much in the first place and he still needed to pay for school as well as his share of the rent and groceries, among other necessary things. Devon was a little luckier. Neither of their families had much to contribute, and she needed to pay for the same things as him, but her part time job paid better than his and she had money saved from when she managed to land a paid internship first semester. It was covering the costs of her move and grad school.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

She watched him for another moment, trying to fight back the tears that were welling in her eyes.

“Please say something, Luke,” she whimpered. All she wanted was for him to affirm what she so desperately wanted; for them to be okay.

He finally looked at her, both sets of eyes red rimmed. Devon squeezed his hand.

“Do you really have to go, Dev?”

The break in his voice sent the first tear gliding down Devon’s cheek.

“You know how much this means to me, Lu. I really think we can make this work.”

“Can we? Can we really?” Luke’s tone turned frustrated. Devon’s mouth dropped open slightly. Did he not believe they could last?

“What are you saying?” She whispered, voice shaking.

He sighed and roughly stood up, dropping Devon’s hand in the process.

“We’ll never talk. We’ll both be so busy. You’ll have school, I’ll be working. And you know neither of us have the money to be visiting each other often. There will hardly be anything,” he rambled, pacing around the living room. Maybe his selfish side was coming out, but he felt he was just being realistic.

Luke always aimed for realism, particularly in his poetry. He wrote largely about real life experiences and channeled his emotions into beautiful, flowing rhymes. His best work came from personal connection.

Sometimes, he couldn’t help but write about what he wished he had.

His idealistic poems were never about Devon; his relationship with her was practically perfect. But this was something that no idealistic poem could fix. No words could change what was happening to them.

“I’ll make time for you, Luke. Won’t you do the same?” She questioned, growing frustrated as well. She had wanted him to share her optimism, but clearly he didn’t. A part of her knew he was right, but she wasn’t going to back down.

“Of course I’ll make time. But will it be enough? No matter how much we try, will it be enough to keep what we have going? Look at what it’s doing to us now! You haven’t even left yet and we can barely keep it together.”

“Do you really have that little faith in us, Luke?” Her voice was calm, despite how she felt on the inside. She narrowed her eyes at him. “No one said it would be easy. But we’ve been together for four years. I believe in us.”

Luke took another breath, trying his best to keep his emotions and tears at bay.

“I want to believe in us, Devon. I really do.” He turned to look at her. Her cheeks were stained with tears, and it only made his heart ache more. “I still want a future with you. I want the house and the dog and the kids we’ve always talked about. But I have a bad feeling. We’ve never been away from each other for more than a few weeks. I just...the distance is going to break us.”

Luke’s own words cut him like a knife. As much as he wanted to believe they could last, his own insecurities caused him doubt. He wasn’t sure if he truly believed that or if he just wanted to save himself the heartbreak of being away from Devon for so long.  

Devon let his words sink in. Even if it did break them before she finished her degree, she was willing to try until they couldn’t anymore. Maybe he was right. Maybe the distance would break them eventually. But it hurt her that he didn’t have any faith at all. Still, she understood where he was coming from.

There was no winner in this situation.

She thought for a moment, and finally came to the conclusion that they were both thinking about.

“Fine.” She slowly stood up from the couch and looked him in the eye. They were both shattered. Hearts were breaking into a million pieces simultaneously. Devon put on the most stoic face she could muster with tears still leaking from her eyes. “We obviously want different things right now. I have school, you have your book, and clearly we can’t handle both at the same time. Maybe there shouldn’t be an us.”

Although he had essentially been the one to suggest it, her words felt like a punch in the gut.

This wasn’t what either of them wanted. This wasn’t supposed to happen. But the truth was becoming more and more apparent. They couldn’t do this. Not now.

However, Luke mimicked Devon’s actions and put on a blank face.

“Maybe there shouldn’t.”

They stared at each other for another few moments. Reality was setting in. This was the end of Luke and Devon. All of the coffee dates, the love poems, living off Ramen and questionable dining hall food together, walks in the park, kisses, I love you’s, the late night talks of the future, everything gone down the drain.

Devon shut herself in the bedroom before Luke could see her break.

…

The next month before Devon moved was painful. Her and Luke hardly said a word to each other. They ate their meals separately, not bothering to cook together like they used to or order food to share. They both spent time with friends before everyone went off to their new adult lives. When they weren’t out, Devon locked herself in the bedroom while Luke did the same in the spare. They hadn’t slept in the same bed since before their fight.

Devon spent a lot of free time packing. She went through all of her belongings, creating piles of things to keep, things to donate, and things to throw away.

She soon came across something that made all of her emotions about the breakup resurface.

It was the shoebox that she kept all of the poems Luke had written for her in. She kept every single one.

With a quivering lip, she opened the box and gazed at its contents. Piles of folded papers were neatly tucked inside, his declarations of love all written out in one place. They were her most prized possessions. She went back and reread them often, and the feeling of having someone love her like Luke did was the best feeling in the world.

Devon choked out a sob, burying her face into her hands in hopes that he wouldn’t hear her through the thin walls. The fact that he was right next door hurt her even more. The caring, gentle boy that made her swoon with his charming smile and romantic poetry. He made her fall in love with him all over again every day. He was everything, and she lost him.

She slowly read through each poem. Instead of joy and adoration, all she felt was anguish and heartache. She never thought she would feel this way about Luke.

When she got to the bottom, she pulled out the last poem, and her heart completely broke in her chest.

The Orchids.

Devon couldn’t keep her sobs at bay. She clutched the paper to her chest, every bit of pain coming out in tears.  

Luke could hear her through the wall.

His heart told him to run in and comfort her. His brain told him it would only make things worse for both of them.

He plugged his ears, trying to block out the dreadful sound. He was in just as much pain as her, but the sound of the love of his life’s sorrow only made his own worse.

Glancing down at the open notebook in front of him, he reread the poem he was writing, and soon he found himself joining Devon in tears.

It was called Wilted. Their relationship that had once been a beautiful flower, an orchid, lost its sunlight and its water, and now it had wilted. Dead, grey, dried up.

Luke dropped his pen and folded his arms on the desk, burying his head into them. He cried.

The broken couple, only separated by a thin wall, might as well have already been miles apart. They cried together, but there was no sense of unity between them. Their pain was past what any poem could portray.

[ordinaryschmuck]

What I Thought About “Separate Tides” from The Owl House

Salutations, random people on the internet who most likely won’t read this! I am an Ordinary Schmuck. I write stories and reviews and draw comics and cartoons.

...>A-hem< F**KING CALLED IT!

I said that the earliest that The Owl House would return would be late June and early July. And some of YYYOOOUUU sons of witches doubted me by saying it would be fall or winter. Well, guess what! "Separate Tides'' has come and gone, the show is back and better than ever, and we are all happy about it! You see how it pays to be optimistic, you persistent PACK OF PESSIMISTS!

...Sorry. Got a little hot there. I'm just so happy it's BACK!

10 MONTHS! It's been nearly 10 months since this show began its hiatus, large in part because of the pandemic. It was painful. BOY, was it painful. But I can already tell that the new season is going to be well worth the wait just by this episode alone.

But beware you mangey sea dogs! Thar be spoilers ahead when discussing such a premier.

And I swear to you that it's only spoilers for "Separate Tides." I haven't seen "Escaping Expulsion" either, and I promise you will be safe from anybody ruining it for you. But maybe don't read any responses from this post. Thar may be d**ks in these waters. So let's review, shall we!

WHAT I LIKE

Mirroring Season One’s Opening Scene: First off, this is a neat callback to what is the perfect first impression of the series. That scene perfectly introduces us to the type of show The Owl House is, while this one acts as a reintroduction to the world we left for way too long.

Second, this is also a well-hidden character moment. Luz is finally living the life she dreamed of, but it isn't exactly all that she expected. It's a great showcase that despite literally running away to a fantasy world, Luz is still getting a regular dose of reality. And I still love the irony in all of that.

(Plus, King eating the bounty is just funny).

The Recap Recording: This is a smart way to recap events from the season finale. It might be weird that Luz says things that the audience already knows, but she's not talking to us. She's talking to her mom. So she's going to explain all that she can in a way for Camila to fully understand. Besides, not every fan had repeatedly watched The Owl House Season One over and over again like a bunch of frickin' lunatics...You know who you are.

Plus, as an upside, Luz gets to explain new events and concepts for how she and the rest of the Owl House are making a living. In no way does it feel like forced exposition because, again, she's trying to describe as much as she can to her mother. It's a reasonable and natural way to talk to the audience in order to catch them up while also showing what's been happening since we've last left this show.

Luz Can’t Send Texts to Her Mom: ...Well, Texts to Home, it was fun while it lasted, but the current canon has decided that you're done. I'll miss you and appreciate all that you've done for me, but, yeah, this is the end. Sorry.

Alright, now that I got my jokes out of the way, allow me to explain how this is really a heartbreaking moment. Because the fact that Luz is forever cut off from her mother, even through texts, is an idea that just twists the knife in your heart when you really sit down to think about it. Luz's little goodbye at the end of her video does nothing but makes it worse.

On the upside, we get some solid character development as Luz doesn't even hesitate to send the video to Camila, learning her lesson from "Enchanted Grom Fright" about being more honest. She finally faced her fear, even if it was a fruitless effort.

They’re Doing Odd Jobs Now: This is a smart workaround for how the Owl House residents are making money. Some fans guessed that maybe Eda had so much junk piled up that they wouldn’t worry, but this seems more of a logical direction. Even if Eda had enough garbage to sell, she’ll can and will eventually run out at some point, meaning that they will all have to take the odd jobs anyway. So I appreciate the writers used that plot point sooner rather than later, as a fun romp as bounty hunters is something you want to do early in the season instead of later on. Especially with how Dana Terrace confirmed that s**t’s gonna go down in the future.

Lilith: ...I'm still willing to hold off--What the f**k did I say his name was? *looks up past review* Frederick Ulis--Frederick Ulisinsburg!

I am willing to hold off Frederick Ulisinsburg, for now, because Lilith is...sort of on the right track. I mean, I don't like how quick she was to playfully mock Eda or rudely yell at Hooty. But I do think that there is potential for her character. She feels genuine guilt for what she's done, and there's a chance that the new season will explore that further if the writers are smart (which they are). On top of that, there's a possibility that every time Lilith tries to act cocky or full of herself, she will be treated as a proverbial punching bag because of it. Like how her poster got burned down after boasting how impressive she looks. Or how Golden Guard's poster magically sealed itself to her face when Lilith tried to throw it away. It's the latter that primarily got me cackling like a madman due to how deservingly hilarious it was.

And, well...she happily clapped like a schoolgirl! Which was adorable! I can't hate characters who have the potential to be adorable! It's not in my nature!

So, while I am a little hesitant in liking her, I think there's a chance for improvement in her character in the future that I look forward to. We just have to wait and see if the writers pull it off.

(By the way, to the person that came up with Lilith wearing a "battery low" shirt...you're a genius in visual gags/storytelling.)

Greg’s List: Have I ever mentioned that this show is funny?

Who's Greg? Why does he organize a list of perfect bounties?

I don't know, but the idea of some random person in the Boiling Isles is putting it on himself to set up a list to make bounties...I'm sorry, but that's funny to me. It's also probably for how Craig's List was made, but when you really think about it, Craig's List is a funny idea as well.

Eda Isn’t Feared Anymore: I sort of guessed that this would happen, but seeing it is a whole different level of sympathy to feel for the character. Eda's main schtick was being the most powerful witch on the Isles, and that's gone now. She's forced to adapt to this new normal, which she's quick to do, but still. Tt's got to be a rough kick to the ego now that no one even cares about who she is anymore.

It's a low moment for her character that hopefully sets up her own arc for the rest of the season.

Luz Feels Like She’s a Burden: I will demolish her with love and kindness if she even CONSIDERS talking so poorly about herself again! Because Luz is not a burden. She is a beam of light that literally brightens up the lives of nearly everyone she meets. Eda already explains how her life is better because of Luz (through a heart-tugging speech that almost got to me, by the way), but it's not just Eda.

King now has his first real friend who admires him and treats him like the king he wants to be.

Willow has become much more confident and cheerful because Luz was always in her corner.

Gus learns more about the humans he appreciates with his whole heart while also having a friend that treats him like an equal rather than a kid.

And do I even have to say ANYTHING about Amity?

The Boiling Isles wouldn't be better off without Luz. It's better because of her. And shame on this girl for thinking otherwise...even though I fully understand where she's coming from.

I'm about to get personal for a second, so strap in. Because I am a twenty-somthing-year-old who is currently living with his mom. It's as pathetic as it sounds. But it's because I'm still attending college, and she says school comes first and jobs and apartments come second. Despite that, I feel like trash for just...living here as she still takes care of me and pays for the food I can't afford. She says that I shouldn't worry about it, but I still wait for the day I can finally pay her back for everything. Not some things, but everything. And that's Luz's mentality in this episode. The overwhelming guilt she's feeling for thinking she's inconveniencing Eda's life is something that hits really hard for me. It doesn't matter if it's true, but that she believes it's true. It's a heartbreaking character arc she's forced into for this episode that also adds more to why she's one of the many characters I heavily relate to.

Lulu and Hootstipher: Whoever thought of this idea...I f**king love you.

This is similar to when Noah and Owen became friends in Total Drama World Tour. Seemingly one-sided at first, you see a cute friendship that you would have never expected, but it works! Hooty is this happy and naive character who hardly understands what's going on half the time, and Lilith is...Lilith. Their chemistry is instantly fun as their dynamic is quick to understand.

This also shines with potential for character growth, for it could give Lilith a chance to be more caring and Hooty a chance to be more than just the comic relief. If you were to tell me that this is what was going to happen when the season premiered, I would have thought you were crazy. But now, after seeing it in action, I'm genuinely excited to see where this cute friendship between these two goes.

(As long as it doesn't involve fans shipping them. Because Hooty can do better)

Luz Getting Better with Her Magic: Our little bisexual princess is growing up! And, man, is it awesome to see. Luz going from just barely knowing how to do magic to full-on using her spells like second nature just warms my heart with all the character growth it presents. Now, some people might want an explanation for how she's able to do said spells, to which I say: "Who the f**k cares?"

If you ask me, Luz's magic is one of those things that doesn't need a direct answer because it doesn't matter as much. But if you're going to be a baby about it, here's what I can offer: As far as I can tell, it's equal parts having the glyph and mentally picturing what the spell should do. It's much like how Willow draws a spell circle and can either make giant jungle vines or a patch of flowers to land on. Luz's glyphs are her own spell circles. As long as she concentrates hard enough, she can make the glyph do whatever she wants it to.

There. You have your explanation. Now let's just all appreciate the fact that Luz can now throw fireballs and make vine whips like the superpowered teenager she most likely fantasized of being. Ok? Ok.

A Pirate Losing His Head...Literally: ...And I'm gonna go ahead and add that to the list.

I mean, for f**k's sake, WE SEE BONE! He puts his head back on, but we still see the bone!

Eda in a Pirate Outfit: ...That is all.

The Golden Guard: This guy shows up for only a few minutes, and I'm already beginning to like him. He seems just as threatening as Belos while also coming across as a guy who loves his job and being a ton of fun to watch because of it. I adore villains that find that balance of being funny and terrifying. The result is a character who makes me laugh on top of making me scared of what they could do to our protagonists. So far, that's the Golden Guard in a nutshell, and I can't wait to see what the rest of the season has in store with him. Whether it involves seeing him play with food as he did with Eda and Luz in this episode or seeing him getting kicked in the crotch like a little punk like him deserves, I am all for it.

(Bonus points if it's Amity who does the crotch kicking if he ever makes an advancement on Luz)

Eda Wanting to Protect the Selkidomus: I love this. It plays into the idea that Eda cares about things being wild and free and despises how Emperor Belos would want to control everything, including the most insignificant of animals. It shows just how kind Eda really is rather than someone motivated by greed...even if she does end up filthy rich in the end.

Emperor Belos’ Brief Cameo: Yup, still terrifying!

And if it turns out that Belos can see the Scrying Potion that Lilith made...we're going to have some problems.

Much like the actual problems that I have with this episode!

(Like that transition?)

WHAT I DISLIKE

King Being Stupid: King has two different personalities in this series. Either he's a pathetic wannabe ruler who seems intelligent or an idiotic Disney comedic sidekick. That latter version of King is what we get in "Separate Tides," and I don't like it (obviously). I don't care how cute it is to see him cling onto Luz's leg and exclaim how he won't let her leave. The same character who helped Luz break into a prison to save Eda shouldn't be the same one who falls asleep when a sheet covers him like a dumbass parrot! King's at his best when he's as intelligent as the rest of the characters. And not as dumb as someone like Hooty.

Eda Being Too Nice Around Lilith: This one bothers me the most. After being cursed for thirty years and having her life ruined by the person she thought she could trust the most, Eda is still all smiley and jokey when talking to Lilith. Yeah, sorry, but I don't buy that. No one in their right mind would be that cool with a person who did all of what Lilith did. It's a major misstep that squanders what could have been a fantastic overarching story of Eda learning to forgive her sister and Lilith trying to earn it. We'll at least get Lilith's guilt, but as is, I feel Eda showing genuine anger towards her would elevate that story by a lot.

IN CONCLUSION

But that's about all the bad things I have to say about "Separate Tides." As is, it is a well-earned, solid A of a season premiere. It introduces new concepts and characters I can't wait to see more of, continues old storylines and character development instead of ignoring them, and still proves that The Owl House is as charming and funny as it always was. Maybe the rest of the season could continue to be great, or maybe things might get worse. Time can only tell. For now, all I can tell you is that "Separate Tides" is a great and fun episode that makes me excited as we set sail to this new season.

(And Scared. Mostly scared)

[janetbrown711]

My headcanons about Sir William the Good

This is like my Angelina II post, so be sure to check that one out too

Oh! And be sure to check out this fic, because it talks about a few of these situations ^^

As always, if you have any questions/requests about them, my ask box is always open :)

Buckle up, because I have a lot of thoughts

Early life: 

His mother died not long after he was born, so he has no memory of her

His father’s name was Alan, and he loved William dearly, and William loved him too

His best friend growing up was Heloise Nerz (more better known as Hello Nurse)

They ran around Acme Falls like little rascals and were mostly adored by the town

She was always a lot smarter than him though, so whenever they got into trouble she’d have to usually get them out of it, though William was always very apologetic and felt very guilty when he did something wrong

Despite what the townspeople whispered and joked about, William never had a crush on her and vice versa. They were both just really good friends

His father got sick of a mysterious illness when he was eight, and died in less than a year, and William missed him terribly

He wandered around Acme Falls for jobs, and while most folks were willing to give him work, he felt unfulfilled and tried to search for the perfect job

No less than a year of searching, a royal knight came into town looking for a squire, and William jumped at the opportunity

He was young for a squire (he wasn’t even 10 yet) but the good natured knight liked his spark and took him under his wing. 

It was hard for William to leave Acme, but he promised to write to the town when he could, and so he left. 

For the first few years he did more of chores than actual knight training- but William never complained. He looked up to the knight quite a lot, to the point where he was basically a second father figure

However, once he turned 12, the real training began, and it was intense.

William never really complained though, knowing what he had signed up for

He was best at sword fighting, though he was a terrible equestrian

When he was 15, he was taken to the royal palace for further knighthood training, and he met Angelina on his first day by making an utter fool of himself (tripping over a bucket of water)

To his surprise, this didn’t push Angelina away, and William fell in love instantly. 

Often, she’d watch him during his horseback riding lessons and would laugh when he screwed up and cheer for him when he succeeded, which made him work harder and harder for her. 

Sometimes they even rode together, which was fun (though she beat him every time, but William was a very good sport about it- which Angelina greatly appreciated)

However, their favorite activity to do was to stroll and plant in the garden. Often the two were busy with their lessons, but they’d try their darnedest to squeeze in the time together

The queen, Angelina the First, strongly disapproved of him, but since William hadn’t really done anything wrong, he couldn’t find good reason to send him away, so he remained at the castle. 

William knew how much Angelina hated the suitors and would always try to get the next day off to spend it with her to help her feel better

When he saw the bruise Salazar had left on Angelina he nearly cried out of empathy for her and her situation, and swore that he would never let anything like that happen to her ever again

(That was when Angelina realized she was in love with him too)

They began their secret relationship when he was 19 and she was 18. 

He proposed two years later, right before gaining his knighthood, and Angelina didn’t hesitate to say yes

William was prepared to stay engaged as long as it took, but luckily for them, Queen Angelina the First died a month after he proposed and they were married shortly thereafter. 

Yakko: 

William had always wanted to have children, as he was an only child and loved the idea of raising and having children, and when Angelina told him she was pregnant he was over the moon

However, he was a bit nervous when he realized that his father died when he was eight, and he had few memories of how he was raised, so he studied and read up on every parenting book he could find and studied like a madman before Yakko was born

William fell in love with Yakko instantly

He was really nervous to hold him though, as he was terrified he’d drop him (which was odd, because being a knight made him very strong)

However, he did relax and eventually he was able to hold him without being nervous, and it soon became his favorite thing

He loved to read bedtime stories to Yakko when Angelina was too exhausted to sing a lullaby, and Yakko seemed to really like them, especially as he got older

Angelina said he got his talkativeness from William, and William couldn’t help but agree, he did have a tendency to ramble (especially when he was nervous)

He wanted Yakko to learn how to horseback ride, but Angelina forced him to promise to wait until he was at least eight because of how dangerous it could be

However, she didn’t stop him from getting Yakko a wooden sword, and William proceeded to try and teach him to sword fight, though it clearly wasn’t his forte. Still, Yakko seemed to have fun, and liked to act out the bedtime stories of William’s knighthood to Angelina, who also seemed to find it adorable. 

Wakko:

William had been utterly delighted to find out that Angelina was pregnant again, loving the idea of a big happy family, which Angelina liked too, as she was also an only child

Yakko was curious about what being an older brother would be like, so this time both Yakko and William were studying to prepare themselves

When Wakko wasn’t born crying or breathing, William nearly had a heart attack and died right there

However, the doctor quickly fixed it, and he cried tears of relief and joy

William noticed Wakko had a lot of similar features to his own father, and so made his middle name Alan

It was really hard to get Angelina to let go of Wakko to let him get a chance to hold him (not that he blamed her in the slightest) so he had to wait until she fell asleep to hold him

Again, he fell in love instantly

He was really nervous whenever Wakko was out of his sight, but recognizing that someone had to be the sane one (as Angelina was having terrible separation anxiety) he stayed strong and reminded Angelina that they had done this before and that it was gonna be okay

Helping her helped him a lot, and soon enough their worries were down to a normal level

Wakko was a lot more energetic and wild than Yakko, which reminded William of himself when he was younger, running around Acme Falls. 

William often had to chase Wakko around countless halls of the castle because of how much he loved to run and toddle around

Wakko had less patience for William’s stories- often interrupting with questions or little comments, much to Yakko’s annoyance. William didn’t mind though, as that was when Wakko was the most talkative with him

Dot: 

Again, William was ecstatic upon hearing Angelina was pregnant again

However, his confidence and optimism wavered a bit when King Salazar started causing problems on purpose

He was determined to protect Angelina from him though, intent on keeping the promise he made as a teen

He was determined to not let Angelina worry herself to death though, remaining optimistic about having a little girl (hopefully) and how great it would be when they could all relax with the new baby after this Salazar nonsense ended

He often had to watch the boys as Angelina went to diplomatic meetings and so when he found out that he had actually gone into labor during one and continued to the end anyway he was both in awe and amazement at how strong Angelina was (though he also did have a fairly short lived freak out about how dumb of an idea that was)

When Dot was eventually born though, they were both so tired that they both cried, especially because of how cute she was

William had been in love with the idea of giving her Angelina’s name, and was happy she agreed to it, as he never thought of her name as her mother’s name

He did also like the name Dot (Lena’s suggestion), so he suggested that they call her that for short, and Angelina agreed. 

However, he did panic momentarily as he realized he had no idea how to raise a girl, until Angelina said “just raise her like any other kid- being a girl hardly makes a difference” and William realized he was being stupid, and relaxed.

Since she was born in the spring around the time all the flowers in the gardens went in bloom, William loved to dress her in flower patterned clothes and hair pieces. 

He loved dressing her up (perhaps even more than Angelina did)

He also helped Wakko with advice on what to do as a big brother, and watched him as he watched Dot, finding his curiosity and newfound tameness around her adorable and admirable. 

However, as tensions were rising and Angelina being too exhausted and busy to go to meeting, it soon became William’s job to attend the meetings. William decided it was a good idea to bring Yakko along to help prepare him for when he’d be king, but he realized his mistake when he noticed how nervous he looked as they started discussing war. William promised he wouldn’t let that happen though, which helped Yakko to relax. 

However, Salazar and his army invaded the castle that night, and William wished that he just had more time with his kids, having never wanted them to be orphans like he was, but unfortunately he had no say in the matter and he was killed

Misc. (bc that’s a depressing end)

Hello Nurse was the “best man” at his and Angelina’s wedding

He didn’t realize Lena was only a nickname special people got to call her until after they were married, and he said “it was his greatest honor” when she pointed it out. 

“William, we’re married” “You could’ve married anyone you wanted, but you let me call you Lena”

He’s just... a big ol’ softie. A big teddy bear. He loves cuddling, hugs, crying, and just- he’s impossible to hate

However, like a bear, he gets very protective of his family, and died honorably while trying to protect them

The knight who practically raised him died before Yakko was born, and William held a huge funeral in his honor

He nearly cried when Yakko told him that his favorite story was the story of how he and Angelina met

He taught Yakko how to read and do math, as well as how to sword fight (though it was a slow process since he was only 8 when he died and all)

He grew a mustache bc he thought it made him look more like a king

He loved to just sit and think about all of his and and Angelina’s traits that he could see in the boys (like his optimism in Wakko, Lena’s love of reading and learning in Yakko, etc.)

He loved his children and Angelina with everything he had in him

[curewhimsy]

Vocal Synth Total Drama Island AU Concept (so far)

———Very Short Character Introductions——— (56 campers in all, aged 14-18) Haku Yowane- A sweet, lonely, sensitive girl with a lot of heart. Age 17. Neru Akita- A courageous tomboy who is misunderstood. Age 17. Miku Hatsune- A bubbly, cheerful, outgoing girl with a lot of friends. Age 15. Luka Megurine- An artistic girl who has a bit of anxiety. Good friends with Meiko. Age 18. Teto Kasane- A bubbly, cheerful girl with an unexpected temper and badass side. Age 15. Megumi “Gumi”- A bit shy, but underneath, she is very brave and resourceful. Age 16. Meiko Sakine- The Mom Friend. Confident and likes to help people. Age 18. Momo Momone- The nicest girl, to the point of being a pushover… Age 15. Rin Kagamine- Unhinged gremlin sibling 1. Loves causing mayhem. Age 14. Len Kagamine- Unhinged gremlin sibling 2. Loves causing chaos. Age 14. Eleanor Forte- The mean girl and drama queen. Cause of lots of drama. Age 17. Kaito Shion- The dorky boy who always has a cheesy smile on his face. Age 17. Akaito Shion- The moody playboy. More serious than Kaito, but bad-tempered. Age 18. Koto Fuuga- Nature girl. Knows all about bird calls, animal behavior, and more. Age 16. Taya Soune- An extremely polite guy. Always dresses formally. Always. Age 15. Ruko Yokune- Despite her height and quirky love of coffee, quite level-headed. Age 15. Ritsu Namine- Loud and obnoxious, but has a caring and wise side? Age 15. Merli Aoki- A snobby, pretentious girl. Not Like Other Girls. Age 17. Lapis Aoki- Mischievous and up to trouble. Merli’s sister. Age 15. Gakupo Kamui- He’s… just strange. And eccentric. And awkward. Age 17. Miku “Zatsune”- A wannabe goth. Basically, she’s in training. Thinks she’s edgy. Age 15. Uta “Defoko” Utane- A sarcastic, moody teenage girl. But she does have a sweet side. Age 15. Dell Honne- Haku’s grumpy, angsty half brother she hasn’t seen in years. Age 18. Yuuma- The popular boy. Eleanor likes him. Can be materialistic. Age 18. Dandy “704”- A very arrogant and vain guy. Quite selfish and loves to show off. Age 18. “Lady” Parsec- A commanding bully who demands and orders people around. Age 17. Yuu- A cheerful guy who likes parties and fun. Age 16. Wil- A somewhat quiet, mysterious guy who keeps to himself. Age 16. Kyo- A wild guy who is impulsive and kind of dumb. Age 16. Daina- Basically, she’s a furry. Her fursona is a fox. Age 17. Dex- Basically, he’s a furry. His fursona is a wolf. Age 17. Ruby- A girl who likes memes and is basically just vibing through life. Age 16. Yukari Yuzuki- A modest girl who has a crush on Ruby. Easily impressed. Age 16. Shian- An innocent girl who is also quick-tempered and pouts easily. Age 14. Muxin- A kind, knowledgeable boy. He loves history and astronomy. Age 14. IA- A bit mysterious and seems cold and expressionless. Age 16. Piko Utatane- Shy, quiet, and cold. Gets along with Muxin due to similar interests. Age 15. Genbu- Overly-enthusiastic and brash. A bit of a loudmouth. Age 18. Chiyu- Bold, brash, and brave. Kind-hearted and strong. Age 17. Haiyi- Talks a lot. Usually has something up her sleeve. A prank perhaps? Age 16. Leeds Kasumiga- A timid girl with a mysterious heart illness that inhibits her. Age 14. Mew- A real goth, unlike Zatsune, who is a goth-in-training. Age 18. Tei Sukone- A dastardly, manipulative villain who fools people, then bites. Age 16. Cider- A smug, self-absorbed inventor of elaborate but stupid inventions. Age 17. Bruno- An agreeable, outgoing guy who likes spreading good vibes. Age 18. Clara- Bruno’s girlfriend. A little bit timid, but always kind and optimistic. Age 17. Aku Yamine- Quiet and a bit melancholic. She’s… a different type of goth. Emo? Age 14. Lily- A tough high-school delinquent who stands up for the weak. Age 17. Amy- Cheerful, optimistic, yet quite chill. Doubts herself often however. Age 16. Chris- He might be a big guy, but he is quite shy and very gentle. Age 18. Kaori- She seems confident and bright on the outside, but hides sadness? Age 17. Ken- He’s talkative, smart, kind of a dork, but very focused and brave. Age 17. Iroha Nekomura- Innocent and sweet, but agile, with cat-like reflexes. Age 14. SeeU- Energetic, hyperactive, makes bad puns, silly, makes bad puns… Age 16. Kiyoteru Hiyama is the host of the game show. Big Al is in the role of Chef. ——Episodes——— Prologue 1- Introduction to concept. Characters see the advertisement for the game show and contemplate going on it. The winner gets a million dollars! Prologue 2- Introduction to characters via their audition videos, part 1. Kiyoteru chooses contestants. Prologue 3- Introduction to characters via their audition videos, part 2. Kiyoteru chooses contestants. Episode 1- Everyone arrives at Total Drama Island and meets each other. Some get along, and many clash. Notable big-drama-causers include Tei, Eleanor, Dandy, Parsec, Cider, Merli sometimes, and Zatsune sometimes. Koto, Genbu, Ritsu, Haiyi, Daina, and Dex stick out for being especially wild. But really, everyone’s unique personality contributes to the drama and pot of chemistry in their own way. Another camper who sticks out is Gakupo Kamui, who enthusiastically boasts about his skills in martial arts and how ready he is to win Total Drama Island. He begins to get on the nerves of the other campers. “I can out-run, out-kick, out-sing, out-wit, and even out-PISS anybody else here.” Gakupo says. “Well, can you do us a favor and GET-out?” Meiko says. Episode 2- Campers have to jump off a one thousand-foot cliff into a shark-infested lake. Then they have to pull some crates back to camp, and the team from before with the most people who jumped get carts to help them. Then they have to build a hot tub from material found in the crates. The team with the best hot tub wins the challenge. The campers who were too scared to jump off the cliff have to wear chicken costumes for the rest of the day. Despite his incessant bragging previously, Gakupo is one of the few campers who does not jump off the cliff, because it is revealed he is scared of heights, sharks, AND deep water! He even pisses himself and dramatically faints when he gets close to the edge of the cliff... and then he faints off the cliff! However, his jump isn’t accounted for, because Gakupo was not conscious during his fall. Luka has to be the one to jump in after and rescue him! This causes Gakupo of The Dangerous Dolphins to be the first campter voted off. “Well… I guess he was right about out-pissing everyone here.” Neru laughs. The other campers too scared to jump are Taya, Dandy, Eleanor, Clara, Muxin, Chris, and Kaito. Haku is at first too scared, but her best friend Neru encourages her to be brave. They jump together and yell funny things on the way down. Even though Eleanor is scared, she ends up going over anyway after Chiyu pushes her off the cliff, being sick of Eleanor’s arrogance. However, it isn’t even accounted for, because Eleanor did not jump by her own will. Clara is too frightened and doesn’t make the jump, which is surprising, because she was so enthusiastic before. However, her boyfriend Bruno jumped without her… Taya takes one look down the cliff and starts backing away, crying from fear. He feels ashamed that he’s so scared, but he cannot help it. He gets pats on the back from Clara. Dandy makes an excuse as to why he can’t jump. He says he has an open wound from a fencing accident. In reality, Dandy does not fence. Muxin is too scared, but asserts that he doesn’t have to jump off the cliff if he doesn’t want to, and that the challenge is ridiculous. He then comforts Taya, who is curled up sobbing, and tells him not to feel shame. Taya and Muxin become friends, but sadly are on different teams. Chris is too scared and actually starts crying too. People don’t expect it. Kaito is scared to jump, panics and makes a bit of a scene, and is then picked on and belittled by his brother Akaito for the rest of the day. Kaito then vows he will become braver from here on. Braver, and stronger! Leeds actually does jump from the cliff, but it causes her heart to become weak and she has trouble walking for the rest of the day. Some of the members on her team rudely deem her a nuisance, but others tell her to take it easy and understand her. Afterwards, Clara gets a bit sour at Bruno, who is her boyfriend, for jumping the cliff without noticing she was too scared. Koto jumps the cliff and she actually has fun. But afterwards, she wears a chicken suit anyway, because she loves birds. Episode 3- The challenge is to stay awake the longest in the "Awake-A-Thon" after running twenty-kilometers and eating a huge meal that includes turkey, which is known for making people sleepy. Dell of The Killer Porpoises gets voted off for falling asleep first. He generally has a bad attitude and is apathetic. Haku feels heartbroken because Total Drama Island was the first time she had seen Dell since her parents’ divorce (by complete chance, even,) and he is not the warm person he used to be. Also, the time was so short. But unexpectedly, Dell acts nice to Haku right before he leaves, calling her to his room when he’s packing to go off the island. They have a nice conversation. Before Haku says goodbye, Dell says “Listen, I’m just not cut out for this wacky game. So you better win. I KNOW you can do it.” Haku begins crying and hugs Dell. Just like when they were kids. There will eventually be a list of who falls asleep first to last, but that’s quite convoluted. So I will say Dell falls asleep first, and Ruko second. Campers were not allowed to drink coffee during the challenge, rendering our Long Sleeper without access to her “secret weapon.” Koto stays up the longest, because she is a bird lover and loves birds too much to consume them. She was the only one who didn’t eat any turkey with her meal, and therefore didn’t become as sleepy. Also simply because she is badass and feral. Episode 4- A best-of-five dodgeball game. Five people are randomly chosen on each team. This is repeated three times for a total of three rounds of dodgeball. The Dangerous Dolphins win 2 out of 3 games. Zatsune of The Killer Porpoises gets voted off for being scared of dodgeball. It was a fear ingrained into her from her elementary school days, when the “dodgeball kids would bully her.” Sadly, since Zatsune always acts so cocky, nobody feels much sympathy now. Taya and Muxin want to spend time with each other. Being on different teams, they can’t, and are deemed traitors. But when Tei, on Taya’s team, suggests Taya could get valuable information about the other team via Muxin, Taya refuses to sabotage their friendship. This causes Tei to begin picking on Taya… Episode 5- A three-on-three talent show contest. Dex of The Killer Porpoises gets voted off for no reason. He wasn’t even in the talent show! Dandy wanted to get chosen by his team, the Dangerous Dolphins, to be in the talent show, claiming his “talent” was unmatched. However, he wasn’t chosen because he didn’t exactly have any real actual skills despite his claim! Taya, Luka, and Gumi are eventually chosen by the Dangerous Dolphins for their talents in music. Luka will play piano, Taya will play the violin, and Gumi will play the electric bass as they all sing a song cover. This causes Dandy to criticize their every note and call them amateur. Given Taya and Gumi’s low self-esteem, Dandy’s criticism gets to them before the final talent show. As for the Killer Porpoises, Yuuma, Ritsu, and IA get chosen as the team’s musicians. They form more of an idol dance group, with a pre-recorded background track. (It will also be a cover.) The Dangerous Dolphins actually win. If they were to have lost, Dandy would’ve probably been the one voted off for being a prick. Episode 6- Campers have to go to the forest, stay out there overnight, then race back to the campgrounds in the morning. Yukari of the Killer Porpoises gets voted off. See, it wasn’t really Yukari’s fault, but… she got attacked by a bear and is now too injured to stay for the game, so the voting off was mandatory, even though the Killer Porpoises otherwise won. Everyone becomes more-or-less traumatized at this, and feel very hurt for Yukari. Episode 7- Campers have to face their worst fear, specific to each camper. Yuuma gets voted off. Koto’s worst fear is the perfume department from Spongebob, because that scene scarred her as a little kid. So the host of the game show, Kiyoteru, magically opens a door to the perfume department at a real department store and Koto has to walk through it. Koto only makes it 5 steps in before she runs out, screaming. She does not pass her fear test! Yuuma is scared of the Crab Rave because there are too many crabs. So he is taken to a part of the island overrun by crabs, and Kiyoteru turns on the Crab Rave song and they all start dancing. Yuuma dives into the water screaming. But the crabs chase him. He doesn’t pass his fear test. Taya attempts to outwit Kiyoteru and pretends he is afraid of strawberry shortcake, which is actually his favorite food. But everyone remembers how scared he was in the first challenge at the cliff. So Taya’s specific challenge is to jump off the cliff this time… Episode 8- Row a canoe to Boney Island, portage across the island, start a bonfire, and canoe back to camp. Wil gets voted off. Episode 9- Hunt the other team dressed as deers with paintball guns, or if one is a deer, avoid being hit by them. Piko gets voted off. Episode 10- Create a three-course meal for Kiyoteru to judge. Three chefs are chosen from each team. Miku gets voted off. Episode 11- Participate in a set of three-out-of-five trust exercises. Shian gets voted off. Episode 12- Make it through Big Al’s life-threatening and disgusting boot-camp challenges. IA gets voted off. Episode 13- Participate in three extreme sport challenges. The challenges are "sofa skydiving", riding a moose while avoiding being tossed off it, and water-skiing on mud. Lapis gets voted off. Episode 14- Eat a nine course meal of disgusting food made by Big Al. Drink shot glasses of blended cockroaches. Yuu gets voted off. Episode 15- Episode 16- Episode 17- Episode 18- Episode 19- Episode 20- Episode 21- Episode 22- Episode 23- Episode 24- Episode 25- Episode 26- Episode 27- Episode 28- Episode 29- Episode 30- Episode 31 Episode 32- Episode 33- Episode 34- Episode 35- Episode 36- Episode 37- Episode 38- Episode 39- Episode 40- Episode 41- Episode 42- Episode 43- After this challenge, the teams are disbanded. It’s now every camper for themself. Episode 44- Get through several rounds of torture, lasting at least ten seconds in each one. Eleanor gets voted off because she can’t take torture. Episode 45- Receive a clue to find a key hidden somewhere in the island to open a treasure chest containing a prize. Ritsu found a dud chest and his prize was… getting voted off. Episode 46- Avoid getting sprayed by Big Al’s water gun in a game of hide and seek. Parsec gets voted off. Good riddance! Episode 47- Build a bike from scratch, and then race it. Who rides who’s bike? Anyway, Dandy gets voted off. Probably because he’s 7 foot 4 and huge. He probably broke all the bikes. Episode 48- Watch a horror movie and then avoid being captured by a "deranged killer". Gumi gets voted off because she was scared. Episode 49- Catch the specific animal assigned by Kiyoteru and bring it back to the campground unharmed. Taya had to bring back a raccoon. He came back first. Koto had to bring back a bear. She came back second. What a total beast! And I’m talking about KOTO! Genbu had to bring back an eagle. He came back third. Leeds had to bring back a frog. She came back fourth. Kaito had to being back a squirrel. He came back fifth. Haku had to bring back a moose. She came back sixth. Tei gets sent off because she couldn’t bring back a mere chipmunk. The little chipmunk was trained in king-fu and ended up beating her up! Hooray! Episode 50- Compete in the following while handcuffed to one of the other campers: eat disgusting food with your hands behind your back while the person handcuffed to you feeds you, return a fragment of Haku’s cursed tiki idol to Boney Island, and assemble a totem pole with the wooden heads of the voted out campers in the order that they are eliminated. Taya gets voted off. Episode 51- Campers have to find Kiyoteru and Big Al after being washed away by a storm. Leeds gets voted off because her condition came to its worse. Her weak heart had finally failed on her and she suffered a heart attack. She was doing so good in the game despite her shortcomings, and will serve as an inspiration for many. Leeds will not die. She is in good hands. She will get top medical care. Now, a twist is revealed to the audience. Everyone who was voted off actually went to go to a beautiful island resort. The remaining campers still don’t know about this. When Leeds finally gets consciousness back, she finds she is in paradise. At first, she thinks she is dead. The room then fills up with everyone else voted off, and she begins crying. “They really killed you?” She cries. “No, Leeds!” Yukari says. “You’re alive! You made it… to Paradise Island!” Episode 52- An episode dedicated to the Island of Losers, which is actually a five-star island resort paradise. Yukari has fully recovered from her injuries. Gakupo and all the others who were eliminated early finally get their time to shine! The losers will also be involved in the episodes to come, as they will be the audience. Episode 53- The campers have to find their way back to camp after being left in the wild with limited supplies. Unexpectedly, our total beast, Koto Fuuga, comes back last. Rumors have it, this is because she found a bird sanctuary and got distracted. Episode 54- Survive a series of dares, given by the eliminated campers until someone drops out. Haku is forced to do something horrible by Tei. Tei dares Haku to joke around and portray offensive stereotypes. On national TV. She just can’t do it… She drops out, but not before insulting Tei to her face. But Kaito says Haku made the right choice. She sacrificed her chance to win a million dollars so that Tei didn’t have to force her to make a choice that could hurt people when they see it on TV. Kaito thinks Haku deserves an amazing consolation prize. Genbu respects Haku for this as well. Episode 55- The two remaining campers have to climb a pole and retrieve a flag, walk across a board on top of shark-infested waters while carrying an eagle's egg, and run a race to cross the finish line. Kaito is about to give up… but… There is ice cream at the finish line! Kaito makes a mad dash to the finish line and wins Total Drama Island!! Episode 56- Kaito won! But there is a twist. In order to actually win the million dollars, he has to find the a case containing the $1,000,000 and bring it to the Dock of Shame before anyone else does! This is a race between him and all the other campers! If any of the other campers being it to the Dock of Shame before Kaito, there will be a whole second season of Total Drama Island, and Kaito will have to win all over again before he gets his million dollars… ———Teams——— ———The Dangerous Dolphins——— Taya Chiyu Meiko Kyo Koto Tei Momo Neru Akaito Clara Gakupo Gumi Shian Dandy Luka Merli Daina Haiyi Lily Len Amy Ken SeeU Cider Teto Haku Uta ———The Killer Porpoises——— Yuuma Zatsune Mew Eleanor Ruby Dell Kaito Ruko Ritsu Wil Leeds Genbu Dex Bruno Iroha Miku Piko IA Chris Kaori Yuu Parsec Rin Lapis Yukari Aku Muxin ———Notable relationships——— Familial- Akaito and Kaito are brothers. Lapis and Merli are adoptive sisters. Haku and Dell are half-siblings who don’t live together, and haven’t seen each other in years before Total Drama Island. Rin and Len are twin siblings. Haku and Miku are cousins. Amy and Chris are cousins. Kaori and Ken are twin siblings, yet distant. They didn’t grow up in the same household. Ruko has a close cousin named Rook, who isn’t on TDI. Momo has an older brother, Momotaro, who isn’t on TDI. Uta has a younger sister, Koe, and two older brothers, Hibiki and Kanade, who aren’t on TDI. Teto has an older brother, Ted, who isn’t on TDI. Leeds has an older brother, Loop, who isn’t on TDI. Yukari has a little sister named Akari who isn’t on TDI. IA has a little sister named One who isn’t on TDI. Friendship- Miku, Rin, Len, and Luka have been a group of friends before TDI Haku and Neru were best friends before TDI Dex and Daina were best friends before TDI Momo, Teto, and Uta were best friends before TDI Ruko meets Ritsu and they become best friends Taya and Muxin become unlikely friends, despite being on different teams Romance- Bruno and Clara were dating before TDI Teto and Momo’s friendship eventually becomes romance. Haku meets Luka and they form a budding romance Amy meets Kaori and they form a budding romance Taya meets Uta and they form a budding romance Muxin meets Piko and they form a budding romance Lily meets Gumi and they form a budding romance Crushes- Len has always a crush on Miku. Tei has an obsessive crush on Kaito. Yukari has a crush on Ruby. Leeds has an embarrassing crush on Genbu. Eleanor has a crush on Yuuma. Ken has a crush on Chris. Dandy has a crush on Parsec. Akaito has a crush on Haku. Zatsune has a crush on Mew. She denies it. Gumi has a crush on IA. Dislike- Dandy and Cider always fight… with a weird sort of tension. Akaito and Uta don’t get along Miku Zatsune and Miku Hatsune don’t get along Lily and Merli don’t get along (MORE COMING SOON)

[cruciology]

A Good Punishment

summary: a handmaid is given to the King’s dog

“Up or down, milady?” Sansa asked, using her very best impression of what you could only assume was supposed to be yourself as she ran the brush through your hair. She was in a good mood today, which had been rare from her. She really was a sweet girl, much nicer once she trusted you. Now she felt more like a little sister to you, even if you were just her handmaid. She braided your hair back with an expert hand. “When Arya was still little enough to put up with me, she would always let me do her hair,” Sansa explained. “Sometimes, she would still ask me if she was going out to play, if only to get it out of her face.”

Looking at her face in the mirror, you could see the sadness in her eyes. You reached up to pat her hand. “You can do my hair whenever you’d like, my love,” You said with a small smile.

The nice moment was shattered when the door to Sansa’s chambers slammed open. You jumped up from the seat. Whether or not Sansa had given you permission, it probably wasn’t proper to have your Lady tending to you rather than you to her.

“Your Grace,” You curtsied to King Joffrey as he stood in the doorway with a wicked grin. You tried to avoid the gaze of his gargantuan bodyguard, the aptly named Hound. He towered so far over you, you doubted the top of your head would even reach his armpit.

“Still in your chambers this late in the day?” King Joffrey tisked. It wasn’t a crime for Sansa to stay in her room, but that didn’t matter to the King. He just wanted a reason to torture the poor girl.

“My apologies, your Grace,” Sansa said, looking down at the floor. King Joffrey approached her and you tensed, the way you always did when he got too close to Sansa. Nothing good ever came from it. You had comforted her many times after the emotional abuse, tended to her wounds after the physical.

“Don’t let it happen again,” He said. He put his finger under her chin, lifting her face to meet his eyes. She still looked away.

Your eyes darted towards the Hound. You were never quite sure how to feel about him. He had done nothing but follow his King’s commands, but you were more open to him after you had seen him cover a beaten Sansa with his cloak, after she had told you of how he had rescued her. But he was still loyal to the King. You couldn’t blame him for being so, you knew what would likely happen to him if he wasn’t, but that didn’t stop you from being frightened. You didn’t think he would help Sansa if it meant going against the King. And yet, you could swear you saw something behind his normally stoic eyes as he watched the scene before him.

“I’m sorry, your Grace, please forgive me.”

King Joffrey stared at her for a long moment, his hand still on her face. Finally, he patted her cheek, his grin becoming wider. “It’s quite alright. You know, I have just the thing to cheer you up.”

“Your Grace?” Sansa wasn’t stupid. She knew nothing that pleased the King would ever be good for her.

“How about we go for a walk?” King Joffrey said as he bounced on the balls of his feet, a child gearing up to play an awful trick. “Let’s go visit your father.”

Sansa choked back a sob. You clenched your fists tightly. “Please, your Grace,” Sansa begged.

“Oh come now, you don’t want to see your dear old dead traitor father? You don’t think that’d be fun?” King Joffrey asked with sheer glee as he watched the tears stream down Sansa’s face.

“That’s cruel,” You said before you could stop yourself. Suddenly, all eyes were on you. Too late now to take it back you said, “Please don’t make her go out there again, your Grace.”

“You dare order me? And insult me?” King Joffrey said, looking you up and down. “This bastard handmaid thinks she can tell me what to do, can you believe that, Hound?”

The Hound said nothing, just keeping his stance at the door and his eyes on you. You know he had felt bad for Sansa the last time she had had to look upon her father’s decapitated head; Sansa still had his handkerchief.

“I will take my future wife wherever I please,” King Joffrey said. He reached his hand out, grabbing Sansa’s hair tightly in his fist, making her cry out.

Without thinking, you lashed out, striking the King. He struck you back so hard, everything went black.

      Stupid. You were stupid. You made everything so much worse, for you and for Sansa. How could you do that to her? In the moment, hitting that evil, nasty little boy felt good, but as you sat in the cell, the other prisoners leering at you, you know it had been foolish. You had no idea how long you had been in here, having awoken just an hour before, but it couldn’t have been long.

You looked up as the cell door opened, the Hound holding the keys and letting King Joffrey enter before him. You could still see a bit of a redness to his cheek where you stung him with your palm. That did make you feel a little better.

“I’ve thought a lot about your punishment,” The King said, his hands behind his back as he stood rigid, staring down at you sitting on the floor. “Assaulting your King. I should have you put to death.” You said nothing. You had nothing to say. “Stand up, bitch.” You did as you were told, your head spinning from the sudden movement. “Take off your dress.”

The Hound’s eyes flashed quickly from the King, to you, and back to where he had been staring off at the wall. You noticed his hand gripped tighter on the cell door.

“You heard me, bitch,” King Joffrey spat.

You untied the cloth around your neck, letting your dress fall to the ground around you, hearing the howls and whistles from the other cells. The King smirked at your naked body. He slowly walked around you, taking you all in. “She’s pretty, isn’t she, Dog?” Joffrey asked.

“Yes,” The Hound said, but he hadn’t actually looked at you, his eyes locked on the wall. The King didn’t seem to notice, still examining you.

“Very good,” The King said, punctuating his statement with a sharp smack to your ass. It shocked you into letting out a little yip. The King stood in front of you again. “Body is very nice, you must have gotten a good feel, bringing her down here.” You were feeling very like a cow waiting for a price. You would rather him just hit you again. “We could give you to Littlefinger. Let you earn your penance.”

You swallowed hard. There weren’t many options for bastard children, especially not bastard children of whores. You didn’t even know who your father was. He could be a nobleman or he could have just been a farmer who happened to have extra coin, your mother hadn’t been able to tell you before she died. You had just narrowly escaped becoming a whore yourself by being sold to the castle as a young girl. It would be almost cosmic to end up at the brothel anyways. Cosmic, but still not an option you wanted.

“What do you think, Hound? She would earn a good sum. You could even have a go at her, if you pay the right price,” King Joffrey said, turning back to his bodyguard. As if he had just been blessed, the King’s grin nearly split his face. “Oh no, I have the perfect idea, the perfect punishment for this bitch. A bitch for the Hound.”

“Your Grace?” The Hound asked, finally tearing his eyes away from the wall to look at King Joffrey.

“You’ll be my dog’s wife,” the King said with venom, his face inches from yours. “I’m going to let the beast tear you up.”

      You hadn’t much pictured your wedding, not as a little girl and certainly not in your time as a handmaid. Marriage wasn’t much on your mind. But you certainly never thought it would be like this. The most you had said to your husband had been your wedding vows. The whole thing seemed less like a wedding and more like an elaborate play by a court jester. The King sat watching in delight the whole night as you sat next to your new husband in near silence.

Lady Sansa had finally broken away long enough to sneak to you and give you a hug. “I’m so sorry,” She said, tears choking her voice. You shushed her, patting her cheek.

“No, no, my love,” You said. “I’m alright. Believe me, it could be so much worse.”

The Hound chuckled darkly. You hadn’t heard a word from him since the ceremony, where he had given you a surprisingly soft and chaste kiss in front of the audience after reciting his vows, after promising to protect you. “Could it, though?” He asked behind his wine goblet. “Am I a better option than death?”

Sansa looked only more frightened, but you nodded at her again, showing her you were okay. She scurried back before the King could notice she was gone. “You’re very cryptic.”

“Sorry, love,” The Hound said, draining his goblet. He had quite a bit to drink, but he was a large man. You doubted he was actually drunk. He was just a bit abrasive, from what you had heard. Well, actually, you heard that he was more than abrasive, but you tried to be optimistic.

The crowd around you suddenly broke into chaos. The Hound cursed under his breath and it took you a moment to realize what was happening as you were pulled from your chair and hefted up onto the shoulders of the chanting men. The Bedding Ceremony. You felt your stomach churn. You had nearly forgotten this part.

They carried you through the castle, all the way to the Hound’s chambers, a place just as foreign to you as the man you married. They dropped you onto the bed, still cheering as the left, taking turns clapping the groom on the back as they passed him. He shut the door behind the last drunken party goer, but you could still hear the feast going on behind it. He glanced at you as he locked the door and without thinking, you scooted back on the bed, your back hitting the wall. He barked out a laugh.

“You think you could fight me off?” The Hound asked as he turned around, his eyes not moving from your face. “Love to hear your plan, seeing as I outweigh you by threefold.” You would have backed up further if you weren’t already pressed flush against the wall as he stepped forward. You released a breath when he sat down at the small table. He reached behind him, grabbing a bottle of wine from the shelf on the wall and pulled a gulp straight from the bottle.  

You watched him for a long while. He did nothing but drink his wine quietly. You shivered in the brisk chill of the room. You almost asked why the fire place was unlit but you quickly pieced together why he probably didn’t want a fire in his room. He was halfway done with his bottle when you finally spoke, the uncertainty eating at your insides.

“Are you going to-,”

“Do you want me to fuck you?” He cut you off, clearly already knowing what you were going to ask. You were thrown off by his question and you didn’t answer. He shook his head. “Thought not. I’m not in the business of fucking girls who don’t want to be fucked.”

“I’m not a little girl,” You defended, annoyed. Sure, he had to be at least fifteen years your senior, but you weren’t a child.

“I don’t fuck women who don’t want to be fucked either, wife or not,” He said. “Just go to bed, why don’t you?”

Knowing you were safe from him, you stood up from the bed. He glanced up at you, barely taller than him even seated, but didn’t say anything. You sat down in the other chair across from him and you had a feeling no one else had sat there before. The chambers had a very solitary feeling. They smelled very strongly of him, of wood and leather. You realized you had never been in any danger. You should have known that from the moment he refused to look at your naked body in the cell.

“May I?” You asked, pointing towards the bottle. He handed it to you, careful to not even  graze your skin. You took a long sip, the strong wine burning your throat as it went down.

“Careful, love,” He said. “It’s strong.”

“You can touch me, you know,” You said. You felt your cheeks burn pink when you realized how that may have sounded. “I just mean, you don’t have to be afraid to touch me,” You pointed to his hand. “We have to share a bed now, after all. It’s okay.”

“Not afraid,” He said, grabbing the bottle back to take another swig.

“Okay,” You said. He offered the bottle back to you and you took another drink. You hadn’t eaten much at the ceremony and you could already feel a warmth spread to your fingers. It was welcome in the cold of the room. You handed it back, but this time, you made sure your hand brushed his. He pulled back as if you had burnt him, not even taking the bottle. You smirked. “Afraid,” You said.

“I’m not afraid of you,” He said.

“Then why pull away?” You asked. He didn’t answer. You scooted your chair closer to his and placed your hand over his. You had noticed earlier, when the septon wrapped the ribbon around your clasped hands, how much bigger his was. You could put both hands over his one and still not cover all of it. He didn’t pull away this time. “See, not so bad,” You said with a smile. You felt like you were approaching a feral dog, using a calming voice and kind face to get it to trust you. He really was appropriately named.

“Not so bad,” He repeated, looking at your hand on his. He finished the whole bottle, setting it empty on the table. After a long moment he said, “Never had a woman touch me that wasn’t being paid.”

“Really?” You asked. He laughed with no humor behind it.

“The King made you marry me because I’m such a horrible beast that he knows being my wife would be a worse punishment than being beheaded or sold to a brothel and you ask ‘really’? You think a woman would come anywhere near my cock if she wasn’t a whore getting ample compensation?”

You looked him over. He was frightening, sure, but that was mostly due to sheer size of him, and the reputation. The half of his face that wasn’t burnt was good looking. “I don’t think it’s that unbelievable. You’re a handsome man.”

He laughed, this time with a bit of mirth. “Oh, at least my wife’s funny.”

“I’m not joking,” You said.

“You could get a much more handsome man than me, love, looking like you do.” Your cheeks burned pink. You liked that he thought you were pretty. You liked that you were still touching his hand. You liked that he let you.

“So you paid for it?” You asked.

“Like I said, a woman needs ample compensation,” He said. He nodded to you. “Or the threat of death.”

“Your first time was with a whore?”

“All my times were with whores.”

“What was that like?”

The Hound laughed. “I was eighteen, she had to have been nearly fifty. She was the only one brave enough to come near me.”

You stood up, finally taking your hand away from his. The wine may have given you a little push but you knew exactly what you were doing as you sat yourself on his lap. He tensed up, but he held his arm around your back, his hand touching your outer thigh. You liked it there. “Am I brave?” You asked.

“You’re stupid,” He said. “Anyone brave is just as stupid. You shouldn’t have hit the King.”

“You’re his bodyguard, you didn’t stop me,” You said.

“I wanted to hit him too,” He admitted.

“My first time was with some boy from Flea Bottom. It was...very quick,” You said. He had told you his story, you thought you should give yours. “Sorry, your wife’s virtue has already been taken.”

“Sorry your husband is a monster.”

You reached your hand up, reaching for the scarred half of his face. He grabbed your wrist, but gently. You touched your fingertips to the burned flesh. It felt rough, like his hands, but some spots were smooth, stretched tight. You slid your hand down to his beard, turning his face towards yours. Your lips were just a breath away from his. “Ask me again.”

“What?”

“Ask me again.”

After a long moment he said, “Do you want me to fuck you?”

“I do.” You pressed your lips to his. This kiss felt very different from the one at the ceremony. You felt his grip on you tighten. He held one arm around your waist while the other pressed along your spine, his hand holding the back of your head. You twisted your fingers in his hair. You pulled back slightly, taking a sharp breath. “Come on, Hound.”

He growled, standing up and lifting you like you weighed nothing at all. He laid you on the bed, careful not to put any of his weight onto you as he held himself above you, but you still felt like he surrounded you. You liked it. You felt safe. You wanted more. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your wedding gown falling around your thighs. You tried to pull him closer.

“Not trying to crush you, love,” He said as he kissed your neck.

“Please, I want to feel you,” You begged. He groaned, finally pressing into you, but still holding himself up on his elbows. You could feel his hardness pressed against you through the cloth between you. You rolled your hips into him, trying to feel more of his length. He hissed out a breath, one of his hands going to your hips to hold them down.

“Take this fucking thing off,” He said, taking a fist full of your dress.

You slid out from under him, standing before him as he sat up on the edge of the bed, taking off his boots as he watched you. You undid some of the buttons but others were out of your reach. You turned your back to him and let him help you with the rest. He stood behind you, looming over you as he pushed the dress off your shoulders, letting it pool at your feet. This was much more pleasant than being exposed in the dungeon. You could feel the heat between your thighs burn almost painfully and your nipples tightened from both cold and arousal.

You turned back around, grabbing the edge of his shirt. He took the hint and pulled it off. His chest was so broad and covered in thick, dark hair. You pressed your hand against him, pushing him back to the bed. Unlike before, his eyes were trained on your body, as if he were a blind man who could see nothing but you.

“Fuck,” He said quietly, his hands on your hips. He kissed your stomach first, then your breasts, taking a nipple between his teeth, making you arch your back towards him.

“Hound,” You moaned, your hands finding his hair again. He wrapped his arms around you tightly, forcing you to sit on his lap again. You could feel the rigid edge of his cock under his pants and you couldn’t stop yourself from grinding against it, making him hiss out your name.

He gathered you in one arm, flipping you around to lay you on the bed again. He kissed your neck roughly, his teeth scraping your skin. He wedged himself between your legs, spreading you wide beneath him. His large hand found its way to your center, placing his palm against you. He groaned into your neck as he felt how wet you were for him. “You’re fucking dripping, love.” He dipped a finger inside of you slowly. “I want to hear you say my name. My real name.”

He pulled his finger out, only to push it back in with a second, making you gasp. “Sandor,” You said as he thrust his hand against you. “Sandor, please, don’t stop.”

“Are you going to come for me, love?” He whispered into your ear as his thumb found your clit. You nodded, unable to say anything else. His rough fingers felt so good rubbing you from the inside out.

Without warning, he pulled his hand away, you felt suddenly empty. You watched as he brought the hand to his mouth, sucking you off of his fingers. You felt another surge of arousal course through you when he groaned as he tasted you.

“Fuck, you taste so sweet.” He grabbed you by the waist, flipping you over again so that he was underneath you, laying on the bed, and you hovered over his chest on your knees. “I need to taste more of your sweet cunt, love.”

You gasped as he planted his hands on your ass, his fingers digging in as he guided you over his mouth. His beard scratched at your thighs deliciously as he devoured you. His tongue lapped at your pussy, letting you ride his face. Your thighs clenched as you got closer to your end. He squeezed your ass tighter until finally, “Fuck, Sandor,” You cried out as you came, thighs quaking.

You sat back on his chest, catching your breath. He laid his hands against your thighs, watching you from below.

“No one’s ever done that to me before,” You said.

“They missed out,” He said. “Never tasted anything so good.”

You moved to lay on top of him, letting him wrap his arms around you. You kissed him again, tasting yourself on his lips. “You going to get your pants off or do I have to do that myself?” You asked.

“You still want me to fuck you?” He asked, seeming surprised. You laughed slightly.

“Is your cock still hard?”

He groaned, shifting under you. “Don’t talk like that, it makes me want to throw you down and take you rough.” He slapped your bare ass, making you yelp in surprise. You wanted him to do it again.

“Maybe I want to be taken rough,” You said. You dragged your teeth against his ear lobe, making him squeeze tighter to you. “I want to feel your hard cock fill me up.”

You let out a surprised giggle as he flipped you suddenly onto your back. He kissed you roughly as he fumbled with his pants. He didn’t even take them all the way off, instead pushing them halfway down his thighs. You caught a glimpse of his whole length and you tried not to gasp but failed. You’d heard girls talk about men with above average equipment but you had trouble believing any could be as big as his.

“We don’t have to,” He said, mistaking your gasp as something else. You kissed him again, spreading your legs beneath him and letting him press against you. You could feel his tip at your entrance. You rolled your hips, pushing it in a little farther and making him groan. He held your hip down, his forehead pressed to yours. “Fuck, love, it’s not going to be gentle,” He warned.

“Don’t be gentle.”

With one long thrust he was fully inside you and you let out an involuntary scream of pleasure. He clapped his hand over your mouth, snapping his hips again. Your eyes screwed shut as you felt every inch of him. It bordered on pain, how much he stretched you, but it felt so good your eyes watered. He grunted as he pounded into you, finally replacing his hand with his mouth over yours, kissing you sloppily. Your hands clawed at his back, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“You feel so fucking good,” He groaned out as he thrust into you. “I’m not going to last.”

He moved his hand between your bodies. You cried out again as his thumb found your clit again. “Sandor, please.”

“Are you going to come, love?” The Hound said, his thrusts slowing slightly as he kept his rhythm on your clit. “I want to hear you say it.”

“Please,” You begged. “I’m going to come.”

He picked up his pace, your thighs shaking as you felt yourself go over the edge, his name coming out like a chant. He moved his hand away, steadying himself on the bed as his thrusts got wilder, until finally a quick shudder went through him as he emptied himself deep inside you. You only felt his weight for a moment before he pulled himself out as he rolled off of you onto his back, breathing hard. You turned on your side, curling close to his warm, hairy body. He wrapped his arm around you, bringing you closer. He pulled the blanket over you both, his eyes already closed.

“Pretty good,” You said, resting your head on his chest as he rubbed your arm absently. “As far as punishments go, I suppose.”

He gave you another sharp spank, making you laugh. “Go to sleep, or I’ll punish you again.”