#and i can't breathe and just want to sleep and i am constantly COLD

[seenthisepisode]

if my immunity system decided not to work then why should i

[gassywill]

Camping Fart Slave Training - Part 1

I didn't want to go camping with Joeseph due to not wanting to be in an enclosed space with him for an extended period of time.

We had been friends since school, always around at each other's houses but recently Joeseph started to enjoy teasing me by being gross, farting around or sometimes on me, burping constantly and sometimes making me wake up with his shoe tied to my face.

However, nothing could prepare me for this.

I arrived at the campsite Joeseph stood there, his blonde scruffy hair blowing in the wind and his silky tracksuit bottoms and the tent that didn't look too big.

As I approached I could see the campfire on with a disposable BBQ cooking some burgers and sausages. I went into the tent and set up my side, there wasn't much room in the tent however as I moved something fell out of Joeseph's bag, what looked like a gas mask from the war...

"Mate what the f**k is this?" holding the gas mask in the air, "Oh that's for later don't stress man food ready" Joeseph replied with a beaming smile on his face.

Confused I finished getting sorted and headed out.

It was cold outside so we just sat and quickly ate, the food was lush. Unfortunately, the quiet location wed chosen was ruined by a large rumble in Joesephs belly then a huge fart erupting out of his ass.

He laughed as I companies about the smell, even outside it was putrid. "Don't do that in the tent man we will both die" smiling Joeseph responded, "Oh don't worry I have a solution for that".

I just laughed it off, we chatted some more but then it was too cold to stay out so I headed to the toilet while Joeseph got sorted.

I entered the tent to Joeseph topless, with his tracksuit bottoms still on and no socks, he was laying on top of his sleeping bag and was stroking his dick.

I laid down in my sleeping bag and zipped it up, shortly after a smell started to fill the whole tent, a rancid eggy smell from Joeseph ass.

"F**k man that's rank, you said you weren't gonna do this," I said while choking on the putrid smell that had filled our small tent.

At that very moment Joeseph sat on my chest, looking down at me he smiled and said "Ah yes the solution" he grabbed the gas mask I had seen before holding it up and inspecting it "You see, I want a fart slave full time as my gas has been getting so bad. So I thought you'd make a good candidate"

I started to struggle in the sleeping bag "Mate what?!? Please don't I can't take this anymore" As I finished that sentence Joeseph gagged me with one of his dirty socks. Ensuring I could no longer speak.

He placed the gas mask over my face, making sure it was airtight. He placed his hand over the filter of the gas making me squirm as I couldn't breathe and released it once I reacted "Ah good, no escape".

He then attached a specially fitted hose to the gas mask testing that the same way to ensure it was airtight. He then got off me, on his knees he turned round to show me a zip on the back of his tracksuit bottoms. He unzipped it and attached the other end of the hose to a specially fitted attachment.

The foul smell of his ass shot down the hose and into the mask, filling it within seconds of his musty ass smell.

He then got out some tape and taped it around my sleeping bag meaning I couldn't get out of it, secured into it and secured to his ass. I couldn't even move my hands out of the bag because of his tape.

"Ok, fart sniffer here is what's gonna happen, when we leave this campsite your gonna be under my control forever. You'll want to do nothing but inhale my gas". He said as he stroked my dick.

I thought to myself that it won't happen, how could I love and beg for his farts when they were so disgusting and made me feel ill.

"What I am going to do is make sure that every time I fart I stroke your dick, I want you to think of the pleasure you get down there every time I fart. I am going to make you cum from my gas"

I squirmed again and once tried to reason in my head what was happening. Then it his me, the foul stench, he had farted

I began to squirm from the stench that had begun to fill the mask until the hose started to vibrate and then the sound came to PPFFFRRRTTTTRRRPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

"Oh fuck that felt good," Joespeh said as he laughed loudly "How was that fart sniffer," he said while stoking my dick which was soft.

I was squirming around, the tent shaking. Joseph laughed as he released silent farts continuously into the mask. This was hell.

[luveline]

Jade Congrats !!!!! Just yesterday I was thinking about how much I miss vampire Eddie, can I request something w him and shy reader? Maybe when he's feeling like he's dangerous for reader and she has to reassure him that she trust him and adores him <3

tysm lovely! ♡ 1.2k

It physically pains you to call the same person multiple times. Each loop of the trill makes you antsy, eager to shove down the receiver and curl into a sorry, sad ball. You let it ring. When it goes to answer phone, you type in Eddie's number and call again. 

It picks up. Breathless, a little surprised, you ask, "Eddie?" 

"Hey, sweetheart." 

He sounds defeated. You're not perfect with tone but the subtleties of his stick stark like a neon sign. Your boyfriend has bouts of depression that often manifest in a lethargic voice like this. 

"Hi, Eddie. I was just calling to make sure you're home before I come over." Usually, you'd ask, but you don't want him to say no. It feels rude and weird and overbearing, but you know what he's thinking. Leaving your comfort zone for his sake isn't easy, and you do it anyway. "I made you something." 

"Okay. I can't wait to see it… can't wait to see you. Sorry I didn't answer this morning, I was sleeping." 

"That's fine. I'm just happy you're okay, I was worrying about you." 

You pack his gift into a bag with a tupperware of cookies and a thermos of hot chocolate. Eddie's home is close to yours. Within ten minutes you're knocking on his door with wind-bitten cheeks, the September cold nipping your heels. Leaves from the trees in the surrounding woodlands dance crispy at your feet, orange and brown mulch that sticks to your treads. 

Eddie unlocks the door to let you in. You see his hand first, deathly pale, black obsidian rings crowding his fingers where they curl around the door. For a second it's like he's going to turn you away, but he widens the gap and you squeeze inside. 

He forgets whatever's wrong to touch your face. "Hey," he says, his hand slipping to cup under your jaw. 

"Hi. You okay? You look pale." 

"Am I usually more tan?" he asks, dropping his hand. "Fine. Blood sate in a few days. For now I'm eating rare steak and wishing I was dead." 

He's kidding around, but you take his hand and squeeze his cold fingers. 

"You're as cold as me," he says. 

"It's nearly October outside. You'd know if you left the house." 

He hums at your telling off, the two of you toe to toe just behind the front door. He sounds vaguely admonished and more curious, kneading your fingers in his with an unmissable amount of love. "Come on," he says, bringing your hand to his lips to kiss your knuckles, "you need a blanket." 

You take off your shoes and coat, following Eddie through his living room, past the bathroom and into his bedroom. It's immaculately clean for once, but when you left the day before yesterday it was chaos. Something tells you he hasn't been sleeping as much as he claims. 

"What have you been doing in here?" you ask, putting your backpack on the bed. Eddie moves behind you, taller, a sweetheart through and through as he gets his hands on your shoulders and digs his thumbs in lightly. 

"I need to apologise to you," he says. 

"That's a big word." 

"I lied to you earlier, I wasn't sleeping, but I've been thinking… I needed to think." 

Well, what he's saying is nerve-wracking, but his hands aren't telling the same story. He's doing it on purpose for sure. "You don't have to say sorry for wanting time to think. Uh–" 

"Relax," he says. "Please. I just want to talk to you about something. Don't be nervous." 

"I'm constantly nervous." 

"I know." Eddie's hands pause at the space below your shoulder blades. It's strange not to be looking at him. He takes a deep breath. "Is that because of me?" 

You take your thermos out of your bag and turn. His pupils are small as they tend to be before a blood sate, his lips chapped. He starts to look poorly when he's hungry. The cookies and hot drink should help. 

"If it was because of you, how come I was like this before we met?" you ask gently, offering him the thermos.

"Do I make it worse?" 

"Of course you don't." How do you describe it to him? He's handsome and sweet and he makes you feel like you're something special. He's smart. He's fucking funny. Nothing about his demeanour or who he is has ever made you nervous, you've only ever worried you wouldn't measure up. 

It's hard to say out loud. Tentative, you put your hands on his waist. When he lifts his chin, you hug him close, strangely close to tears at the smell of him under your nose. 

"Eds, why would you think that? Have I made you think that?" you murmur.

"You know what I am." He tosses your thermos on the bed to cover your shoulders. 

"Yeah, I do."

"You wouldn't tell me if I scared you–" 

You flinch backward. "You think you scare me?" 

The starts of his eyebrows rise, his little box of wrinkles pinched, and his pupils slowly widening. When he speaks, it's with the practised cadence of a well-worn worry, "I'm not normal. You don't have to pretend that this is normal." 

"It doesn't feel normal to me," you say, placing your hand on his chest, fingertips against his shirt but palm hovering a half inch above. "It just feels like love. I love you, and I trust you. Is that what's worrying you?" 

"No," he says, winded. "I'm worried I'll hurt you. I know you trust me too much, you're," —he takes your face into big hands, kissing you very softly between words— "not the problem." 

You hug again. Cheek to cheek, an arm slung over his shoulder protectively. 

You miss your happy, weirdo boyfriend when he gets like this, but you understand why it happens. You don't resent him, don't mind, really, that he needs to be told these things. You'll be cheesy and soft as long as he needs it. 

"You're not the problem, either. You're a really good guy with a big heart and a propensity for catastrophizing," you say, your voice tipping into a teasing ire that borders theatrical.

He laughs like he was supposed to and steps back. Face I'm his hands, you turn your cheek into his left palm and smile into his syrupy brown eyes. 

"I haven't given you your gift." 

"I love you," he says. Licking his lips, "What gift?" 

You made him a coaster out of air dry clay, black and lacquered with a glaze that gleams like mother of pearl. He reads it and snorts, his top lip peeling back to expose the barest hint of a sharp tooth. "I heart my paranormal boyfriend," he reads, his voice gritty with humour. "Bit on the nose." 

You get a kiss for your efforts, firmer than the one he'd given you minutes before. Eddie's gonna be just fine in a couple of days, but for now you'll stick close. You don't want him getting the wrong idea —he doesn't scare you even slightly. 

[cyber-dump-171]

Chapter 1: Fire

Objection! Stand your ground! Marvelous! (Twisted Wonderland x Reader)

← Prologue | Masterlist | Chapter 2 →

Word count: 4.4 k.

WARNING: N/A

Note: thank you for the likes, reblogs, and comments! I'm really happy you guys are enjoying this story! This chapter is based on the beginning of the manga "Disney Twisted Wonderland - Episode of Heartslaby

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You stand on the edge of a cliff. Below you, your boots leave deep impressions in the dark green grass, and the loose parts of your wet clothes dance with the violent wind.

A storm. It was supposed to be a thunderstorm, but somehow it turned into a powerful hurricane.

You can't see what's in front of you, just three silhouettes — on the opposite sides of you are two people you believe to be male. They're screaming, but not a sound is coming out of their mouths.

But there's a third figure in front of you, a terrifying gigantic creature emerging from a whirlpool created by the pale blue sea.

Elongated limbs with claw-like fingers extend into oblivion, a set of pointy teeth form a psychotic smile that opens and closes as if it is laughing or talking, and sharp spikes sprout from its head, forming a crooked crown. But what scares you the most are its empty, void-like eyes. Even though the creature is shrouded in darkness, you can feel it staring at you. Not with anger or hunger, but… with curiosity.

“Kneel, for before you rises the king of gods!”

The gray light in front of you casts a shadow on the monster, making it appear ethereal, even though its form is that of what you would find in your worst nightmares.

“Thine presence in this world…”

Before the voice can finish its sentence, you awaken.

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Everything around you is silent. Small particles of dust dance around your body, landing softly on your hair, eyelids, and chest. You feel dizzy as your eyes open and confusion sets in as you find yourself surrounded by a terrifying darkness. It's so dark that you can only see your own hands and shoes and nothing beyond.

The piercing headache from earlier has now subsided to a mild throbbing, a reminder of the voices that once plagued your thoughts, begging you to reveal your hidden desires. Under your hands you feel a velvety surface, like that of felt, gently scratching against your palms. Your back feels warm, but the rest of your body is strangely cold.

"Where am I?" you whisper weakly, raising a hand to reach into the void, only to come in contact with an icy, solid surface a few inches away from your body. Moving the rest of your limbs, you try to measure how much space you have, only to find yourself constantly bumping into a steel-like material.

You feel enclosed, as if you have been placed inside a box. And suddenly, a flood of memories comes back, the scenes flash like a movie as you remember the horses, the missing people, the hearse carrying three coffins... wait a minute.

"Am I... dead?"

No way! You can still feel temperatures and sensations, so you must still be alive. But just in case, you decide to double-check, as your hand immediately flies to your neck and quickly finds your carotid artery. You breathe a small sigh of relief as you feel the pulse of your heart beating against your fingers, but your stomach drops as you reach a secondary and more terrifying conclusion.

You are going to be buried alive!?

Panic runs through your veins as your hands fly over to the object on top of your body, and you begin to push with all your might. Damn it! You don't want to die like this, you thought your death would at least be peaceful and in your sleep, surrounded by your loved ones or your precious and extremely expensive figurines. Instead, you probably got run over by a horse and are now being buried alive by accident or worse, on purpose!

There’s something strange though, as you don’t feel any pain. You were most likely crushed beneath an animal that on average weighs around 900 to a thousand pounds, followed then by a vehicle that’s carrying three coffins. Yet you feel completely normal, minus the small headache. No body pain, no broken bones, not even a single scratch. Just what is going on!?

But your thoughts come to a screeching halt as you feel your hands push the lid open with surprising ease. After applying a little more force, the lid slams against something, the loud sound making you cringe. Light finally pours into the small, darkened space and your eyes squint, taking a while to adjust to the brightness. 

"Holy shit! Someone else managed to open the 'door' by themselves!" you hear hushed and surprised whispers outside your box, eerily reminiscent of the voices that plagued your mind earlier, but thankfully not coming from inside your head. ‘Okay, time to find out who the hell wanted to bury me alive.’

You stumble out of the space, your bag smacking the side of your thigh as you accidentally miscalculated the distance between the floor and where you're standing, but fortunately, you don't fall. The whispering grows even louder, as if your appearance stirs something in the room. The slightly warm air from the room brushes against your cold skin, sending a shiver down your spine as you open your eyes to examine your surroundings. 

An enormous glass chandelier hangs over your head, its warm light reflecting off the huge mirror that strangely floats below. Elegant curtains are placed in front of the tall windows with intricate designs showing the stars that decorate the dark sky, and in their reflection, you can see the flames of the small candles softly dancing.

Your eyes widened in disbelief at the hundreds of coffins floating softly around the mirror, the lid in yours fully open revealing a burgundy-colored interior. Were you drugged? No, maybe you're still dreaming! Nothing like this is physically possible unless you have landed in some sort of simulation, or perhaps you somehow ended up inside an elaborate theme park.

As you turn your head around to see the source of the whispering, you can feel the color drain from your face as your mouth hangs open in pure shock and your stomach lurches. Sitting in rows of pews there’s a sea of people in front of you, wearing elaborate black and purple cloaks that obscure their features. “Is this a cult!?” you can’t help but shout at the scene in front of you, quickly backing away from them as if they were a group of predators. Your outburst causes some figures in the crowd to snicker and snort at your comment, others taking out their phones or using their figures to point at you.

“Honestly, you children are very impatient! Coming through the door of your own accord is practically unheard of”, a voice speaks in an exasperated tone, as you hear the sound of a cane approaching. Instinctively, you turn in the direction of the voice and laugh almost sarcastically when you see the person standing in front of you. You're too tired and confused to even question what's going on.

What the hell is that man wearing? Two glowing orbs are staring right at you from behind a crow mask, the over-the-top feather coat completely ruining the rest of his expensive-looking outfit. You wonder how long it takes this man to get dressed and undressed, given the amount of accessories he carries.

"Hello? Are you listening, young-", out of the corner of your eye, the crow man slowly approaches, golden claw rings shining in the warm light of the chandelier as a hand reaches out to you. Out of instinct to get away from this man, your hand quickly reaches into your pocket before coming in contact with a small rectangular object. 

Driven by pure adrenaline and desperation to get out of this place, you pull out said object and point it at the man, who recoils in shock. Wasting no time, you turn the device on and press the button, a flash of light followed by a crackling sound has the man emitting a short shriek. "One more step and you'll be eating 50,000 volts of pure electricity, my friend."

"What is wrong with you two!? First, you break the door and get out before being called, and now you two are threatening me with weapons!" Two? Who else is he talking about? The man steps aside, revealing the other person he was referring to, a young man holding a large covered object while pointing it at the crow man.

Your breath catches as you instantly recognize the undercut haircut and piercing eyes. You briefly recall his grandmother's screams and the CCTV footage of him exiting the gym before it cuts to black still very fresh in your mind.

"Yuuken Enma?" you whisper his name in disbelief, it feels unreal to see him in the flesh after spending so much time discussing his disappearance. 

Hearing his name, the Kendo student turns in your direction, his eyes widening in surprise, and he opens his mouth to speak, but he resumes his defensive position as soon as the crow man moves again.

"Please, both of you, calm down, I mean no harm!" he raises his hands in surrender, and you loosen the grip on your taser slightly. You have tons of questions that desperately need to be answered, and it doesn't look like the crow man has any intention of harming you.

To be honest, he looks even paler than when you first saw him, so it's best to interrogate him before he shuts down and refuses to answer any questions. 

"No offense, dude, but you're suspicious as hell," you suddenly find Yuuken standing at your side, still holding what you assume to be his Kendo sword. When did he get here? You weren't the only one who didn't notice the sudden movement, as the crow man stares back and forth from where the Kendo student once stood to you.

Anyway, you don't have time for this, you want to get out of this bizarre place as soon as possible. "Where are we?" you begin, getting straight to the point. At your question, the crow man relaxes, his shoulders straightening as he clears his throat. "I see, you two aren't quite lucid yet. Ah! Must be the effects of transportation fogging your brains," he whispers the last part, a pointy finger scratching his chin. 

You and Yuuken exchange a confused look. With a sigh, the crow closes his eyes before continuing. "Very well, let me explain. You're currently at Night Raven College, a magic school in Twisted Wonderland. Here, students with exceptional magic gather and are trained to become the best magicians in the world," he explains, proudly puffing out his chest like a bird as he finishes his explanation.

On the contrary, you and Yuuken are completely lost, the explanation making no sense to any of you. "Ma... gic... As in the type you see in an anime or a movie?" the black-haired boy asks innocently, his eyes widening in shock. You can hear the previously silent "students" now laughing softly at the two of you, mockery evident in their voices as they whisper between each other. Fuck this, you're so over this sick joke! 

"I don't know what kind of crazy cult you're running here, but we want nothing to do with it!" you yell, this time tightening your grip on the taser. Even though you're speaking on behalf of Yuuken, you can guarantee that he's also incredibly disturbed by what's going on here.

"Well, you're here because the Mirror of Darkness" — the crow-man points to the giant floating mirror in the middle of the room — "has recognized your magical abilities. You were picked up by a carriage, weren't you?" you instantly remember the panic that ran through you as you watched the horses run towards you. That thing going so fast was supposed to pick you up? 

You slowly nod. "I see! Now that we're done clearing up any questions, it's time for the entrance ceremony to begin!" his tone suddenly changes to a more cheerful one and the crow man begins to walk away with a slight bounce in his step. Millions of questions run through your mind, but his nonchalant reaction makes you even more angry.

"Wait a damn minute! We were never even informed of this decision! Our families must be so worried, we suddenly just disappeared out of the blue!" you yell angrily, while Yuuken nods fervently at your side. "Yes! Besides, the two of us can't even use magic!" This sentence seems to silence the entire room. Suddenly, the student's eyes feel like bullets as they dig into your back and neck, staring at you with scrutiny or surprise.

"What did you say?" the crow man stops and turns to look at you with a puzzled expression on his face. Is this man on drugs? No one can use magic!

Fortunately, Yuuken has grown tired of the conversation and prepares to leave, swinging his Kendo sword over his right shoulder and grabbing the strap of his gym bag with his free hand. "This is pointless! Pembroke and I have important things to do, and our families must be worried. So excuse us," you're surprised he knows your last name since the two of you never really interacted.

But you don't pay much attention to it, giving the crow man a nod before turning off your taser and stowing it in your bag as you follow Yuuken down the large corridor. The whispers of the "students" now turn into full conversations, expressing their disbelief that the two of you would just walk away from a "once in a lifetime opportunity", as one of them put it.

Yeah, right... being kidnapped from your hometown to suddenly wake up in a coffin with bizarre special effects decorating a gothic-looking room, and having a cult leader with furry tendencies dressed like a crow tell you that you're in a school where they can teach you magic. Ha! ‘A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, my ass.’

Behind you, you hear a gasp before a pair of footsteps quickly approach the two of you.“W-wait just a moment! Let’s all calm down and–”

BAM!

The sound of breaking glass frightens everyone in the room, shocked gasps and quiet screams can be heard as everyone turns to face the source of the sound. The window behind the mirror now has a huge hole in the middle of it. Shards of crystal fall at your feet, but what scares you most is the creature that has caused such a scene. 

A rather large gray cat with blue flames sprouting from its ears and a tattered black and white ribbon tied around its neck stands proudly on its hind legs. Its right paw reaches to the sky, showing a row of sharp claws before it points them at you and Yuuken. "I've been listening to ya!" it, no, he shouts proudly. "Do ya know how many people would kill for a chance to get into this school?"

The little guy walks awkwardly towards you, and you can't help but freak out as you stare at whatever this creature is. "So, tell ya what? If you don't want it, let me enroll in your place!" the cat exclaims happily, a grin spreading across his face. You can hear the crow man complaining about something, but you're too busy trying to figure out what the hell is going on.

"Pembroke," Yuuken's soft voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and you turn to face the young man. A look of pure disbelief is on his face as he points a finger at the creature. "Why is the raccoon talking?" the creature's face contorts into an expression of annoyance, the flames on its ears growing larger in pure rage. "HUH!? I AM NOT A RACCOON! I am the Great Grim, who’s going to become the greatest wizard of all time!"

You’re going to pass out. Laughter can be heard across the room as the "students" criticize and mock the cat's sentences. This angers the creature even more. "Yeah right! A monster becoming a wizard? As if!" a certain row of students to your left roars in laughter at the thought, but you are more concerned with the next words "Grim" says.

“OH YEAH!? I just have to show ya, what I’m made of!” the creature spits a small ball of flames as a test try, before inhaling a large gulp of air and–

FWOOSH!

He’s setting the students on fire!

In a matter of seconds, the entire room is engulfed in blue fire and chaos. The beautiful linen curtains burn quickly, you hear how the chandeliers fall and the metal twists in the flames, and you feel Yuuken take your wrist as he guides you through the sea of ​​people trying to escape the room. 

The students scream in panic, and you end up helping several of them extinguish their cloaks that have caught fire. As one boy thanks you under his breath for the help and promptly heads for the door, another guy accidentally runs into you while screaming at the top of his lungs, the tail of his cloak slowly burning.

You don't waste a second before stomping on the fabric, quickly extinguishing the fire as the boy breathes a sigh of relief. "Thanks for the help!" he replies in a cheerful tone, surprising given the situation, short white hair peeking out from under the hood as his red eyes stare up at you. He's quickly led away by another man who carries him to safety.

Your head swivels again as you hear more cries for help, but out of the corner of your eye, you see a strange movement in the background.

One of the coffins floating near the ceiling begins to move violently from side to side. You don't know if it's the heat waves or the smoke that's making you cough and sneeze, but you swear you can see the lid starting to open. You are still unable to move, a blockade has now formed at the entrance of the room, and the students are shouting in panic for those at the front to move.

"I'm not done yet!" Grim continues to spit small balls of fire, not aiming at anything, just showing off the amount of chaos he can cause. Your eyes briefly focus on the creature jumping happily in the middle of the room- ‘That thing's a tiny psychopath!’ -but your attention is quickly diverted as you hear a loud banging noise.

Your eyes focus on the previously moving coffin, the lid now open and whoever was inside is lying on his side on the floor, completely still. The flames continue to spread and you soon realize that the most likely unconscious person is incredibly close to a curtain that is about to be completely consumed by the fire. 

"Enma! I’m going over there! Another person has escaped from the coffin! You get out!" you free your wrist from Yuuken's grip and move skillfully through the crowd, slowly approaching the person.

‘Move! Move! Someone is about to be burned alive!’

Yuuken shouts for you to wait for him, but you don't pay attention, as you manage to get out of the crowd and can move more freely. The person is already a few meters away from you, curling himself into a fetal position, the fall of the coffin has possibly knocked the air out of him, or worse, a rib may have been broken. ‘Shit! Hopefully, the injury isn’t too bad!’

You're stopped in your tracks, however, when a red-haired young man crosses your path and begins to make his way to Grim with full determination. "First people refuse to enroll, and now a monster breaks in? How dare you sully our initiation ceremony!" the young man points what looks like a pen at the creature, who glares back at him with a frown.

"You... REMOVE YOURSELF FROM THIS SCHOOL IMMEDIATELY!" his scream projects throughout the room, causing some of the students who were previously panicking to stop dead in their tracks. You, on the other hand, are completely taken aback by the display in front of you. What is this kid thinking? Does he have a death wish!? Grim, however, takes his command as a challenge, as you can see the hairs on his back stand up, and this time he stands on all four paws.

"Get out of my WAY!" the small creature screams, spewing a huge ball of blue fire straight at the boy. Even from where you stand, you can feel the heat of the fire warming your skin. The boy does not even attempt to move out of the path of the threat, much less impressed at the magnitude of the attack.

You turn your head to look at the crowd behind you, staring intently at the scene. "HEY! ALL OF YOU, GET ON THE GROUND, NOW!" you yell, snapping some students out of their stupor.

Instinctively, as if you were a puppet, your legs move on their own as you run toward the redheaded boy, the projectile growing larger and larger. Your right arm quickly hooks around the young man's waist, and you pull him hard against your chest, he gasps in surprise as his hands clench into fists and grab a hold of your shirt. You pay no attention to it, more preoccupied with the threat in front of you, so you quickly maneuver your two bodies away from the path of the fireball.

You turn your head to look at the students, who fortunately heard your command, as they lie flat on the floor, the fire quickly leaving the building through the open doors and exploding in the air outside. Some students scream at the sound, hands flying to their ears; from the corner of your eye, you see Yuuken covering the heads of some boys, shielding them from the debris.

You breathe a sigh of relief, thankful that nobody got hurt. But the momentary calmness is gone when you hear someone grunting in anger. "You... JUST WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?" the pair of hands that were clinging to your shirt now lie flat on your shoulders, and he shoves you, hard, your back hitting the side of a nearby pew, the air momentarily leaving your lungs. 

You stare owlishly at the red-haired boy, who doesn't even spare you a glance as he points his pen at Grim. ‘How the hell does such a tiny person have so much power?’

Your lungs feel like they're on fire, the room spinning as the throbbing of your headache seems to rear its ugly head around the corner. You feel two pairs of hands grab your forearms tightly, lifting you off the ground with ease, and you come face to face with Yuuken, whose expression is one of concern.

"Pembroke, are you okay?" the tone of his voice is soft, you can hear it despite the screams and relaxation in the background. You nod slightly, the adrenaline coursing through your veins a few minutes ago now replaced by exhaustion. "The guy... the one who fell out of the coffins," you remember the poor man writhing on the ground in pain and Yuuken takes his eyes off your face for a moment to observe where the boy is. 

"I'll go get him, you get out of here, and we'll meet again outside. Can you walk?" the Kendo student studies your appearance with complete determination, and you nod quickly, praying that nothing has happened to the boy. You feel a tad intimidated underneath his watchful eyes.

After a few seconds of staring, the two of you separate, Yuuken swing his gym bag on his free shoulder, sprinting towards the figure at full speed while you make your way to the entrance, helping various students up from the floor and pushing them to get out of the boiling hot room.

"SILENCE!" the redheaded boy yells behind you, but you ignore him, still pushing through the crowd. "Get ready!" someone steps hard on your foot, and you're pushed, your body turning to the opposite side. Yuuken grabs the injured man's arm and swings it over his shoulder, helping him to stand.

"OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!" your eyes shift to the redhead, watching the tip of the pen lights up before it shoots a bright light. Dust-like particles, twinkling like stars, surround the creature's neck before a heart-shaped collar magically appears on the creature, who screams in disbelief.

‘… No way… there’s no way…’

"What is this thing? Get this shit off me!" Grim uses his small paws to pull at the collar, then his hind legs to kick at it, but the object doesn't even move. His head whips around to look at the redhead with fury, and he sucks in air again to launch another attack. But this time, not even a tiny flame comes out of its mouth. "HA!? My magic! What have you done to the Great Grim?"

The red-haired boy sneers, and even from where you're standing, you can feel the shit-eating grin he's giving the monster. "I used my magic to seal yours," the Grim's eyes widen in shock as he continues to kick at the collar, unintelligible complaints and colorful words coming out of his mouth.

Soon, several cloaked figures begin to use their "magic" to put out the fire, spraying water on the flames that are eating away at the curtains and carpet. Another group focuses on calming the students, getting them back into the room, and checking for injuries; fortunately, it doesn't appear that anyone has been badly burned beyond their clothing.

Suddenly, the crow man, who you strangely didn't see during all the chaos, reappears from the shadows and proudly claps as he heads towards the red-head. "As expected from the Heartslabyul house warden! Great catch, Mr. Riddle Rosehearts!"

Suddenly, the crow man, who you strangely didn't see during all the chaos, reappears from the shadows and proudly claps as he heads toward the redhead. "As expected from the Heartslabyul house warden! Great catch, Mr. Riddle Rosehearts!"

The boy named Riddle is showered with compliments, however, he ignores them, more concerned with cleaning the dust and debris that have soiled his cloak. But, between the celebrations and gasps of relief, you and Yuuken stare at each other with pale complexions and worried looks.  It's clear you're both thinking the same thing.

The monster, the magic fire, the heart-shaped collar and the pen... where exactly are you right now? How far away from home are you?

Honestly, fuck this place.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Tag list:

@rotknox @agaygothicmushroom @sherryclover @mielle-estelar

[jeonbunnie]

promises

pairing: reader x namjoon

summary: marriage life with namjoon hasn’t been the same lately. he’s been cold and distant, always whispering on the phone. and you can’t help but notice…

genre: angst

content/warnings: established relationship; married!au; idol!namjoon; cheating/infidelity; implied sex; eventual smut; explicit sex

soundtrack: lemonade by beyoncé

a/n: this used to be a series but I decided to rework it into a oneshot. The plot is mostly the same, however now the reader gets to choose the big decision at the end (kind of like a choose your own adventure).

word count: 18k

Pray you catch me

♪ you can taste the dishonesty/ it's all over your breath, as you pass it off so cavalier. but even that's a test/constantly aware of it all/my lonely ear/pressed against the walls of your world. ♪

. . .

Something is wrong.

You don’t know how or when things changed, but something shifted between the two of you. There is a distance now, more tangible than the miles that separate you from him when he’s on business trips. Farther than the long-distance phone calls that became less and less frequent. Even now, as you lay in the same bed with him only a few feet away you can tell.

Something is wrong.

Because you can’t remember a time when you and Namjoon had ever been so far apart.

He would always come home late at night. Languid footsteps trailing towards the bedroom. Eyes tired and red from too many hours spent awake working on the newest album. Gravity pulled him down in a slump that could only be from the heaviness of leadership, from carrying the weight of the entire group.

And though he was exhausted, he would still find a way to come and take care of you. Even dead-tired, his warm brown eyes would light up and his lips would curl at the sight of you. He’d make his way over and pull you close, until your bodies became an entangled mess of arms and legs, chests pressed together as you curled into each other's warmth. His fingers would run soothingly through your hair and he’d ask you how your day went. The moments you spent within his arms seemed to make even the bad days good.

But it's been a long time since your husband held you close and melted away your bad days.

The clock on your nightstand reads 1:23 AM in angry red letters when his phone goes off in the middle of the night. You can hear the sheets rustle and feel whatever is left of his presence slip away as he sits up, answering on the second ring. “Hello?” Before you can even stop yourself the words are flying out of your mouth. “Who is it?”

The woman who speaks sounds nothing like you. Her voice is broken and fragile, spiked with worry and fear. He shrugs his shoulders and rolls his eyes because, “It’s just Yoongi.” The lie rolls off his tongue effortlessly. You are already hurting and the way he brushes you off tears right through you.

It’s not Yoongi. You know better. Your husband’s best friend loves his sleep and would never stir in the middle of the night. You want to confront him, put all your thoughts out in the open but before you can even gather the courage, he stands up, makes his way across the room and closes the door behind him, leaving you alone.

Again.

Somehow you can’t decide what’s more unsettling: the loneliness you feel when your husband leaves or the loneliness you feel when he’s around.

You are too unnerved to go back to sleep. Not that you are sleeping anyways. Now that you are truly awake to the situation before you, sleep does not come. You’ve been staying up for days, eyes wide open. But it was more than just insomnia. Your mind is awake with all the possibilities, visualizing every single scenario. You can’t close your eyes because in an instant you are there. Thinking about it all over again. You can't ignore it, nor pretend not to see it. You are not blind anymore. And so sleep does not come.

With every nerve on edge you throw back the covers and swing your legs out of bed. You can’t just lay there trapped within your own mind. You need a distraction—any distraction from the truth. Even if the only release you can find is putting your body into motion. You find yourself pacing back and forth, frazzled energy bouncing from one point to another.

Until you hear him laugh. It’s a deep and throaty noise that breaks through the walls and interrupts your racing thoughts. You find yourself tiptoeing closer to the sound, trying to be as quiet as you possibly can so you can creep up and press your ear up against the door to listen. How desperate you are, eavesdropping like this. You feel ashamed for sinking this low, but that shame does not stop you from wondering if you should get the glass from your nightstand so you can hear him better. If you could only hear what he was saying! But the words are muffled, like he’s talking underwater.

He used to talk to you all the time, share his innermost thoughts, his nightmares, his dreams. Talk to you about everything and nothing. Work and play. Past and present. But now, nothing.

Now all you got were glimpses of his world.

You used to be his world.

The realization leaves you cold and you press yourself closer to the light trickling through the cracked door. You can see him now. His back is turned towards you and he’s hunched over, phone clutched to his ear like he’s trying to keep all his secrets from spilling out of it. In that moment, you pray he will turn around so you can read his lips and decode whatever it is he’s whispering huskily into the receiver. You pray he will turn around and catch you. You wonder what he will do. Will he jump? Will he be angry?

Ironically, out of all the times you’ve prayed for God to answer you during your marriage, this is the prayer God answers because it happens. He turns around.

You expect to see the face of a cruel man. You could not have prepared yourself for what you do see. Because when he finally turns around, it’s not the face of a monster, but the face of your first love. Namjoon is smiling. Smiling. This is the moment your heart breaks. When was the last time he smiled at you like that? Pink lips pulled back, pearly whites gleaming. Dimples flashing in his cheeks. The way his eyes squint into tiny crescent moons.

When was the last time he smiled at you like that? You can’t remember. Your mind flickers through the memories filed in your head, though each image never seems to be quite right. Maybe because they are now clouded with suspicion. Was that last smile real? Or merely a mask?

The fact that you can’t be sure made you anxious. You can’t tell the difference because you didn’t know him anymore. Where was the man you loved? This person you do not recognize. His eyes are dark, lit with the desire you once thought was only reserved for you. You watch as his lips curl from a smile into a wicked grin.

Something is wrong.

You tried to fix it. The problem. You. It had you be you, didn’t it? Maybe he wanted someone more gentle. You tried to be meek, mild, and kind. Soft spoken, as you were always previously so assertive. You didn’t want to chase him off with harsh words or accusations. You wanted to be what he wanted. You thought that maybe he wanted someone sexy, so you tried to be that too. You made your eyes smokey and put on red dresses, even though you hated the color red. You wanted to be enough. You tried everything to get his attention, but it made no difference. You still ended up in this exact moment.

A sigh slips past your lips, almost a whimper. It’s the sound of loss.

This is when he sees you.

His smile disappears. Then he walks forward and closes the door in your face, shutting out the light and leaving you in darkness.

. . .

When he comes back to bed—wearing a scent that is distinctly not yours—it’s 5AM. He kisses your forehead and climbs underneath the sheets, yet the distance between you remains. Maybe you already know the answer to the questions that keep swirling in your mind. You don't want to believe that he broke his vows. But that hope does not stop the doubt you feel every time you look at his face.

Are you cheating on me?

Don’t Hurt Yourself

♪ I am the dragon breathing fire. Beautiful man I’m the lion Beautiful man I know you’re lying…. ♪

. . .

It is quiet in your house. The sun and it’s warm amber glow have long since disappeared, fading into black. The stillness is unusual. Normally you hate such things, always needing some sort of noise playing in the background like the tv or the radio while you clean up and do work, but not today. You need the silence so you can collect your thoughts and prepare yourself for what you are about to do.

You are done being passive. Sick and tired of sitting and waiting around for a man who did not so much as blink an eye at you. You are done crying. You already cried so much. All your tears have dried up and gone away. You can’t bring yourself to be sad anymore. There isn’t any room for you to hold inside two emotions. Especially when all you can feel now is anger.

You are mad as hell.

So you came home from work and sat down on the couch, waiting on him for one last time. Head held high, poised and collected. Muscles coiled and ready to pounce.

Just like clockwork, keys slide into the door and Namjoon comes in at a quarter to three, completely unaware of the situation he just stepped into. Looking up he stops, surprised to find you sitting in the living room. He can feel something is off. Sense it in your body language, see the difference in your eyes. For a minute, he wonders if you know what he’s been doing all night long...but that’s impossible right? How could you possibly know?

But you did know.

You watched nonchalantly as he flashed a casual grin your way. “Hey babe...what are you doing up so late?“ You didn’t respond right away, taking the time to examine him closely before you decide to speak.

“Where were you tonight?”

The second the words leave your mouth there’s a shift in the atmosphere. Thick silence fills the space between you, but your eyes never leave him. You see him blink, catch the bob of his adam’s apple as he swallows down a gulp, note a flicker of emotion pass in his face too brief to figure out the expression. Was that fear? Was he nervous?

But then he laughs. It’s almost a scoff as his eyebrows pull together he shakes his head in what masks as confusion. “What?”

“I know you heard me Namjoon, I’m not going to ask you again.”

“What are you talking about? I was with the guys tonight, we—”

“Don’t,” you stop him, holding up a hand. ”Don’t do that. Don’t lie to my face. I am so tired of you lying to me, please for once just be honest.”

He doesn’t say a word, only sighs and runs his fingers through silver locks and as unsatisfactory as it is, you realize this action is the closest you’ll ever get to a confession. But it’s not enough. Your hands come up to rest on your face almost like prayer before you ask your next question.

“Did you sleep with her?”

“God (Y/N), are we really doing this right now?”

Anger presses up against your chest and before you know it, you’re on your feet. “Yes, Namjoon, we are really doing this right now. Because I can’t stand one more minute of this fake marriage. I’m not stupid. I see you! And I’m not going to pretend like I don’t anymore.”

“Fine. Fine! What do you want me to say, huh? What do you want?”

“I want the truth!”

He fixes his gaze, eyes locked on you. “Oh, you want the truth? Ok here’s the truth. Yes, I was with her tonight, and yes I fucked her, and it was the best goddamn fuck I’ve had in months. Is that what you wanted to hear? Are you happy now?”

His words hit you like a bullet to the heart. No, you weren’t happy. You wanted his candor but not this. His tone...the way he was talking to you...You almost couldn’t believe it. How could he? The man you called your husband would never so much as raise his voice towards you. Yet here he was, spitting out cruelty. The brutality of his words mixed with his contempt was too much. Your nails dug into the couch as you tried to steady yourself, tried to push through the pain.

Your mind was swimming with information, trying to come to terms with the new knowledge but one question still lingered. You had to ask:

“Why?”

“Fuck, why? I’m on tour all the time, It’s not like you’re around?”

Are you kidding me?

Whatever pain you felt quickly turned to anger and you whipped around to face him.

“Who the fuck do you think I am Namjoon?! You didn’t marry one of your little groupies. I have a job and a life! I can’t just drop everything and follow you around the world like some love-sick puppy!”

“Yeah well, maybe if you did I wouldn’t have needed to find someone else.”

The nerve of this man!

“So you want my entire world to revolve around you? You are so selfish! As if I don’t already do everything for you. I cook, when you come home at night there’s dinner on the table. I keep this house spotless, but it’s not like you’re even here to notice--”

“I’m not here cuz I’m too busy working the job that got you this house in the first place!”

“Wow. So it’s ok for you to be away from me on your job, but if I can’t be there for you then I’m the problem?” You stared him in the face, only to be met with a glare to rival your own.

“You’re a real piece of work Namjoon.”

How is it that he could look at your relationship and see only your flaws, but never his own? You should have known better than to put all your faith in a man with a god-complex. He only ever cared about himself and his own career. All he had were excuses. You started to walk away from him when his next words stopped you in your tracks.

“Oh please, don’t act like you’re so perfect. It’s not like you haven’t done it.”

You cast an incredulous look over your shoulder. “Excuse me?”

Just what is he trying to imply?

Namjoon rolled his eyes. “Now who’s playing dumb. I’m not stupid either, I know you’re seeing him behind my back.”

This again? “How many times do I have to tell you, Jackson is just a friend.”

“You’re a fucking liar. He doesn’t look at you like ‘just a friend’, I know you slept with him.”

Now you were furious. You took several steps towards him till you were so close you could feel his heated breath on your face. “Let’s not get it twisted, I’m not the cheater—You are!” you said, jabbing a finger into his chest. “You don’t get to put this on me! You and I both know I’m not the one who’s unfaithful!”

By the end of your sentence you found yourself out of breath, panting. You were shouting the entire time. Unable to keep the fire inside; your fury, abated. You looked at your husband, finally eye to eye and sighed.

“I wouldn’t do that to you.” You spoke, your voice coming out much softer than either of you had expected. “I wouldn't do anything to disrespect you like the way you disrespect me.”

Once again silence swelled within the room and all you could do was look at him and wonder how you had ended up here. The two of you never used to fight, not like this. It was never this bad. But things were different now.

“W-why did you do this to me? To us?” On your wedding day you both took vows to be united as one in this relationship. He was hurting himself just as much as he was hurting you but he was so wrapped up in his own pride that he couldn't see it.

“Are you even sorry?”

Namjoon didn't say a word.

You closed your eyes and counted to ten, trying to find some kind of peace. But by the time you finished counting your anger still hadn't subsided. You couldn't find peace because there was no peace here.

Everything in this relationship was so, so hard. You couldn't pick up the broken shards of your relationship all by yourself and he wasn't even trying to fix it.

“I can't—I can't do this anymore”

Namjoon narrowed his eyes. “Can't do what anymore?”

“This!” You yelled, throwing your arms out.

“You. Me. Us. I can’t do it anymore and I don't want to.”

And with that you spun on your heel making a direct line for the bedroom. You could hear him follow behind you, but you didn't care. Your mind was focusing on something else now.

All you cared about was getting the hell out of there. You went into the closet and pulled out an overnight bag, snatching clothes off hangers and stuffing them inside.

“What are you doing?”

You had to laugh at his question. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m leaving you.”

You didn’t stop packing. After taking out enough clothes you grabbed your bag and walked out of the closet. On your way you caught a glimpse of Namjoon with a blank expression on his face.

“Don’t tell me you're actually surprised?”

Brushing past him, you made your way to the bathroom. “I was so blindly in love with you that even when I knew—I knew what you were doing, I tried to stay. But I deserve better. I deserve so much more than you.”

After gathering the rest of your stuff you turn around to walk out the door only to find Namjoon leaning against the frame. Taking in his image made your steps falter.

He looked strong and athletic in a white muscle tee. His arms were crossed over his chest, a gesture built out of displeasure, but only served to highlight the curve of his biceps. When you finally tore your eyes away from his body and up to look at his face, you sighed. He was clenching his jaw, showing off all his angles while his lips pushed out into the perfect pout. His eyes as always were dark, intense, and fixed on you.

Well, not always fixed on you.

He was so beautiful and you hated him for it. Or rather how he made you feel. He could still make your heart skip a beat even as it was breaking.

Yes, you still loved him. But clearly his love for you didn’t run quite as deep.

“So what now? You want a divorce? You signed the prenup. You're not going to get any money out of me.” He growled, voice deep and raspy.

There he goes again, always so damn arrogant…..His words served as a reminder. This is why you had to go. You broke eye contact, concentrating on zipping up your bag. “You can keep your money. I’ve got my own, and I can take care of myself.”

You crossed in front of him, swiftly taking a pair shoes then sitting on the bed to put them on. It dawned on you that he didn’t even ask you to stay. But then again, although it hurt to make this decision, you didn’t have to blink away any tears.

“Where the fuck are you going?”

You laced up your shoes, pulling the strings tight. “I don’t know.” You snapped. “Since you seem to think all I do is sneak around behind your back, maybe I’ll go see Jackson. Or maybe I’ll go out and find me another man. All I know is, I’m never coming back to you. I can promise you that.”

You weren’t playing nice but you were honestly so done with his attitude, mistreatment, and all the pain he caused you. Confident in your decision, you got your bag and stood up, striding towards the exit.

“Hey!”

You ignored him.

“Don’t walk away from me when I’m talking to you!”

“Kiss my ass, Namjoon!” You sassed, walking out the door and out of his life.

Resentment

♪ I may never understand why. I’m doing the best that I can. And I tried, and I tried to forget this. But I’m much too full of resentment…

. . .

Kim Namjoon knew you would probably leave him if you found out about his affair.

You weren’t the type of woman to let yourself be walked all over, and honestly he was surprised you’d let him get away with it for so long. For months you put up with the late night calls, the sneaking around, the constant lies...And he watched the light dim in your eyes as he broke his vows. It wasn’t like he wanted to cheat on you—not at first.

But anytime he was away from you on tour he just got so lonely.

Sure he had his bandmates and his fans but when the stage lights turned off and the cheers died down none of that was enough to keep him going. Whenever he got by himself it’s like the floodgates opened up. And all the pressure, the high expectations, the push for success, the hate, all of it came washing over him.

And Namjoon felt like he was drowning in it.

As much as he wanted to tell you what ailed him, he didn’t wanna put you under any more stress. You were already constantly worrying about his welfare, filled to the brim with your own concerns. He didn’t think it fair to make you shoulder his burdens as well. But holding all his feelings inside only made things worse.

The helplessness, the anxiety...he just wanted to make it go away. Even if only for a moment. And that’s all it was. A moment of weakness.

The first time it happened he regretted it immediately. He stayed up the whole night, staring at the ceiling, consumed by his guilt. It was the biggest mistake he had ever made. He planned to go home and just come clean, tell you everything that happened. Then beg and beg for your forgiveness.

All he could do on the plane ride back home was pray to God you would somehow take him back.

But then he saw your face. The bright smile you gave him when he walked in the door and heard the joy in your voice as you greeted him. Felt your love as you curled into his embrace, nudged your head in the crook of his neck and whispered “I missed you so much”.

How could he tell you the truth then? How could he tell you what he had done, that he’d broken his promise and given himself to another? He wasn’t even on stage, yet here you were, looking at him with stars in your eyes. You were the only person who truly knew him, flaws included, and despite it all you still loved him.

He couldn’t watch the love and devotion in your eyes turn to hatred and disgust. He couldn’t cope with the reality of the situation. The fact that your heart might close to him forever, that you might leave him.

And then he’d really be alone.

No, that couldn’t happen. If you left..? At the time, he hadn’t wanted to even think about it. So instead of doing the right thing and being honest he closed himself off. If only to keep himself from breaking down. Everytime he looked at you he felt ashamed of his actions. It didn’t feel right, lying to you. Maintaining a distance was the only way he could keep his secret a secret.

The second time it happened, it wasn’t a mistake. A mistake repeated more than once is a decision. And when temptation swept by, manifesting itself in long legs and a warm body to hold at night, Namjoon couldn’t resist.

The guilt hit him just as hard, if not harder than the last time. If he had to face you in that moment without a doubt he would have spilled out all the ugly truth. But it didn’t happen that way. He was on tour for an even longer time than usual, and the separation gave him more than enough time to compose himself, to bury the guilt far enough where it would not resurface. But in doing so he had to become a different person to you. Hard. Cold to the touch.

It affected him as much as it affected you. With every shrug and look of indifference, every evasion he could feel himself slipping further and further away from the man he wanted to be, from the man that you deserved.

And yet, he couldn’t find it in himself to stop.

The third time it happened, you knew. Even now he couldn’t figure out what tipped you off. He knew there wasn’t any lipstick on his cheek or lingering perfume (Namjoon was stupid for cheating, but he wasn’t that stupid). Nothing tangible to hold your suspicion but you felt it. You questioned him, asking things like ‘what’s wrong?’ and ‘did something happen tonight?’, each inquiry only put him on edge and he snapped at you, starting a fight to distract you from the truth.

That night he left home, seeking comfort in the arms of the first girl he cheated with. He crossed a line that night. He knew he shouldn’t have met with her. But she already put her number in his phone and he was too much of a coward to be left alone with his thoughts in a hotel room. But in doing so he opened up pandora's box. He lay in her bed as she stroked his ego, telling him how important he was, how much better he deserved.

And soon enough he started to believe it. That he was better than you and that you were somehow, not enough for him. His superiority somehow justified him stepping outside his marriage. He found himself faultless, thinking it was your job to keep his interest and if he wasn’t happy, it was only his right to seek out happiness elsewhere.

But now, sitting alone in this dark house, all Namjoon could see was how wrong he was. So very, very wrong.

Months. You’ve been gone for months now. At first, he barely missed you. He didn’t have to. The very next day he had to fly out to Tokyo for a concert and he went back to his regular routine. Practice. Performing. Parties. The occasional girl to keep him satisfied. He didn’t need you then. And why would he? When he had all the people surrounding him, screaming his name. Singing his praises. He had no need to miss you until he went home. And that's when reality sunk in.

He came home to more than just an empty house. As the days rolled by he came to realize just how much you took care of him. Not just as a homemaker but as a mate. You were his heart, the sun and moon, his entire world. Namjoon could have killed the man who said you don’t know what you have until it’s gone because as cliché as it was, the expression couldn’t have been more accurate and the truth stabbed him like a knife.

The loneliness he felt when without you was ten times worse than when he was with you.

Your presence had a bigger impact on him than he could have imagined. Something about your ambience was instantly calming. Even if you weren’t doing anything together, whether it be just sitting on the couch or laying in bed beside him your being there gave him peace.

He tried to fill the void, find your image in the millions of girls that threw themselves at him, the women he led to his bed deep within the night. But there was no recreating you.

Namjoon hadn’t known peace since the day you left.

If it was possible he was even more restless than before. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had a full night's sleep. It had to be retribution for all the nights he kept you awake with the creeping thoughts of his betrayal. You, the love of his life, who he took for granted.

He ruined the best thing that ever happened to him, for his own selfish desires.

All because he lied.

And now all he wanted was a chance to get you back.

He pulled out his cell phone, trying to reach you again. He couldn’t keep track of all the times he called your phone, only to be met with your voicemail.

When he watched you walk out that door…a part of him hadn’t really recognized it as real. He was too full of himself to see it happening. His ego told him you’d be back, that you wouldn’t—couldn’t—really leave him. You’d cool off for a couple of days, then come back and try to make things work because that’s the type of person that you were.

He knew you were strong. Strong enough to move past his mistakes. He just didn’t know you were strong enough to move past him entirely.

Namjoon runs a hand across his face, dials your number, and prays. He’s not necessarily sure who or what he’s praying to, but he could really use a miracle right now. Because that’s what it would take for you to actually pick up the phone.

“(Y/n) please, please pick up.”

The phone rings once, twice, three times and then—

"We're sorry; you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service.”

He hangs up, angry.

He doesn’t have the right to be angry, that much he knows. Mercy and grace from the woman he scorned is far too much to ask for, but he needs you, and he’s desperate, so he’s asking anyway.

Namjoon foolishly made the mistake of thinking that you couldn't live without him. But it was he who was the one who couldn’t live without you.

So he’ll keep calling. Even if it only goes to voicemail. He’ll keep leaving message after message after message.

Whatever it takes.

…

♪ I may never understand why. I'm doing the best that I can. And I tried, and I tried to forget this. But I'm much too full of resentment...♪

…

You wake up to the sound of your phone ringing. You didn’t have to check caller ID to know who was on the other side of that line. Annoyed, you sighed and rolled over onto your side. Curling up into the couch, you choose the warmth and sweet bliss of sleep over another argument.

“Aren’t you gonna get that?”

“No.” You answered without so much as opening your eyes.

Behind you, you could hear Jackson moving around, presumably to shut off your phone (you didn’t care enough to look).

The ringing grew louder and louder and soon enough you could feel your phone vibrating against your back. “(Y/n), answer the phone.”

“No.” You repeated, throwing the cover over your head. It’s entirely too early for this. Didn’t he have something to do? Wasn’t he busy? You didn’t understand it. Now that you were separated, he suddenly had all the time in the world to call you?

You could hear Jackson sigh behind you. “I swear if I have to hear your ringtone one more time—I’m going to lose my mind. Just answer the phone!”

“If it bothers you so much, why don’t YOU answer it!”

“M-me! Me?” Jackson sputtered. “Do you want me to die? Do you know what that man would do to me if he found out you were staying with me? He would kill me.”

That much was true. Namjoon would be furious to find out you’d been staying with your male best friend, which is exactly why you went to Jackson’s place when you left him.

Was it petty? Yes. Was it worth it? Hell yes.

If his feelings and pride were hurt than good, that made two of you.

“I mean, I could probably take him. But Namjoon when he’s angry is a totally different person. Actually no, he wouldn’t just kill me. It would be murder in the First degree. I’m not answering.”

“Then put it on silent. I don’t care, I’m not talking to him.”

Suddenly, the warmth of your blanket was ripped away from you, forcing you out of your bubble of comfort. “Did you—did you just snatch my cover off? Jackson!”

“(Y/n),” He said, coming closer and taking your hands in his. “You are my best friend and you know I’m only saying this out of a place of love, but this has to stop. You have to go.”

“You’re kicking me out?”

“Look, it’s not like I don’t want you here, I love having you around you know that. It’s just—you’ve been hiding out on my couch for a couple of months now—”

“—Hiding! I’m not hiding!!!”

“And I refuse to harbour a fugitive anymore.”

“I’m not a fugitive…” you grumbled.

Jackson shot you a cross look.“Namjoon is searching high and low for you and you’re avoiding him here, in my apartment.”

You rolled your eyes. “Ok, AND?”

“And! I really don’t think staying here is doing you any good. You are not dealing with what happened. It’s not healthy. He’s calling for a reason, you need to talk to him. You can’t run away from this…”

You bit down on your lip, contemplating everything he said. He wasn’t really wrong. But you were far too exhausted to deal with Namjoon again.

You couldn’t go through another fight.

You weren’t angry. At least, not in the way you were before. The last of your anger had been exerted in a fit of rage when you returned to your home to pick up some things you left behind. This is what you told yourself. A lot of damage had been done. Broken dishes, shattered glass, photos ripped out from picture frames. Tiny vengeful acts that piled up to one huge mess. After all of it you were only partially satisfied. But that time had come and gone, you didn’t think you had any more fight in you.

You were filled with too much bitterness, too much resentment for any of that.

No matter what, you still couldn’t wrap your brain around it. How could he do this to you? You thought that having him speak the truth and actually admit to what he did would give you peace of mind but all it did was give you more questions than answers. Now just the thought of talking to him made bile rise up in your throat.

“I...I don’t even know what I would say to him.”

Jackson narrowed his eyes. “You don’t have to say anything. He’s the one who fucked up, he should be doing all the talking.” His expression softened. “But...I think you should listen. If this is really over, you need closure.”

“And on that note, you’re gonna pick up the next time that phone rings or I will revoke your couch privileges!” He said, standing up with a smile on his face.

“I hate you for this.” You growled at him.

He smiled back at you, “I love you too.” He kissed your cheek, placing your cellphone in your hand, then left for his bedroom.

You looked down at the piece of metal in you hand and sighed. You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t talk to him. And yet...there was still this small part of you that wanted to hear his voice. Determined to ignore that emotion you stood up from the couch, headed straight for the kitchen. Stress eating had become a terribly bad habit of yours, but you couldn’t help it. You were the type of person who ate her feelings (and honestly, food does make everything better).

You were shuffling through last night's leftovers, trying to decide if you should heat up a plate of dukbokki or humor yourself with dessert for breakfast when Jackson’s home phone went off.

You waited a bit, figuring he would pick up eventually, but he didn’t. “Jacksonnnn~”, you whined. Nothing. Whatever, you thought. I’ll just let it go to voicemail.

You turned back to the fridge, taking out a pint of ice cream when the beep of the machine sounded and a voice broke through the apartment's silence.

“Hey (Y/n),” At the sound of your name you immediately stopped everything and froze.

“It’s me, Hobi. I know you’re crashing at Jackson’s right now,” Your jaw dropped. How could he know that? You didn’t tell anyone where you were going.

You could hear him giggling on the phone. “Don’t worry I’m not gonna tell. I know you don’t wanna hear anything that I have to say but I’m still gonna say it anyway.”

“Namjoon’s a mess...We've been through a lot together—I’ve never seen him like this before. He made a mistake. A big mistake, and he knows it. But he loves you more than anything. Just hear him out okay? And not for him, but for you...I know you still love him too. Call me back, yeah? If you want, you can ditch him but don’t ditch us! We all miss you over here…..Take care of yourself.”

By the time the message ended you had teary eyes, only half a pint of ice cream left, and a decision to make. Suddenly, you didn’t have much of an appetite.

And then the phone rings. Your phone.

You let it buzz for a bit. Fully determined to ignore his call once again. But you couldn’t stop looking at the phone. Everyone’s words were circling in your head. What if your friends were right? Were you making a mistake? Would you regret this in the future?

The phone just keeps ringing. You wished it would stop so you didn’t have to think about any of this. You closed your eyes and decided to let fate make the choice for you. If he called back, you would use the last bit of fight in you to answer the phone. But if the phone call ended and he didn’t call back...then you’d really be done and let everything be.

Your ringtone died and you held your breath, waiting.

There was a long pause. Nothing.

Maybe he'll give up. Maybe he’s sick of all this too.

Expect—the phone rings again. Namjoon was still fighting for you.

So you pick up your phone, press the answer button, and put the phone to your ear.

“Hello?”

…

♪ Loving you was easy once upon a time. But now my suspicions of you have multiplied. And it's all because you lied. ♪

…

“(Y/n)?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“I......I didn’t think you would actually pick up the phone.”

“Neither did I…”

Silence is a funny thing. It’s nothing, and everything at the same time. Somehow the emptiness is still able to fill a void. Nothing is said aloud, but a thousand words are said in the silent space between you and Namjoon. It’s probably only been a few seconds, but it feels like minutes have gone by, or maybe even hours. In those moments of suspended time you decide you don’t want to listen to anything coming from him. Not even this silence.

It’s almost as if he can hear your thoughts. “Don’t hang up!”

His voice is rushed, desperate…..and soothing. Though you’ll never admit that you miss the sound of his voice. Your intellect tells you not to listen. To block him out. Hang up the phone, and move on with your life, you don’t need anything from him...Maybe that was true. But underneath all the hurt, and the deeply buried anger, there was a part of you that wanted something from him.

What that something was you couldn’t tell, but it was enough to make you linger.

When you didn’t hang up, Namjoon spoke. “I called you. I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for months now.”

“I know.”

“Why didn’t you answer?” His voice was strangled, raw. If you didn’t know any better you would think him to be holding back tears. But you couldn't even remember the last time you saw Namjoon cry.

“Maybe I wasn’t ready to talk. Everything isn’t always about you.”

You can hear Namjoon take in a breath on the other side of the line and you imagine him clenching the phone in a fist, the way he always does when he makes an important phone call. The silence stretches on for a beat too long and you’re two seconds away from hanging up again when he speaks. “I don’t wanna fight. I didn’t call to argue with you.”

His words are soft, yet you still find yourself on edge. “Then what do you want, Namjoon?”

“I want to see you.”

“No.” You said, shaking your head. Not gonna happen. You find yourself pacing against the kitchen floor. “I don’t want to see you.”

“Why not?”

His words are a match, igniting your fury and immediately all of the anger you worked so hard to keep suppressed comes bubbling up to the surface. “Why not? Are you serious?!”

“After everything you’ve done you really think I wanna see your sorry face again?” Tears filled your eyes—but you were frustrated—not sad. You were letting him get to you. Namjoon always made you feel too much. You knew you’d get worked up if you talked to him, it’s why you put it off for so long. You worked too hard to try and keep yourself together for him to tear you apart again.

You want this to end. “I have nothing to say to you. Goodbye, Namjoon--”

You take the phone from your ear, ready to press end call, and you would have, if you didn’t hear his faint voice through the speaker say: “If you feel anything for me at all, don't hang up!”

You can’t do it. Hang up. You won't lie to yourself. But you can’t force out a response either. Instead, you lean against the counter, letting the silence take over as you wait for Namjoon to form his next sentence. “I don’t blame you for wanting nothing to do with me. I didn’t call you to make you upset. I just want to talk about us.”

Us. What a foreign concept. You try picturing it in your mind but no matter what, you still can’t form a full image with the two of you together. You’d been apart for so long, and if you really thought about it, the separation began long before you ever left home.

“There hasn’t been an us for a long time. I tried to talk to you before—look what happened. I’m tired Namjoon. I just—I can’t keep doing the same thing over, and over again.”

“It’s not going to be the same.”

You frown. “How can you say that?”

“Because...I’m not the same. I’ve had a lot of time to think things over. I know I fucked up (Y/n), I’m so sorry.” You scoff at his poor attempt at an apology. “I’m supposed to accept that? You think you can just call me up, apologize over the phone, and everything will be okay?”

“No, of course not.” You hear him exhale sharply. “I know it’s going to take more than that. But it’s not gonna get better if we don’t talk about it. We can’t move forward if we don’t talk.”

“What makes you think I want to move forward?”

“You didn’t hang up…”

You hate that he’s right. You want to pretend like it didn’t mean anything but it did. It would be so much easier to just let it go—to let him go. Beyond all reason, you’re still hanging on to this relationship.

“Can we just talk, please. Just...just come home.”

“That’s not my home. It’s not. So much shit has happened in that place…” Your voice cracked and you couldn’t even finish your sentence.

How could you call that place home? Nothing felt right there. All it held were bad memories. Thinking of it only brought back the nights you spent alone, those times you cried yourself to sleep, and the worst fight you ever had with Namjoon. There was no peace there. You couldn't go back to that broken place. You feel a tear roll down your cheek and you quickly wipe it away. This time you knew the tears you cry come from pain, not frustration.

Dammit, I said I wouldn’t cry for him anymore!

“It is your home. It’s our home. You can come back anytime.”

“I don’t want to!”

“Okay, okay.” he said, his voice gentle. It was the same voice he used to use when he used to talk you down from your bad days. You could tell he was trying to calm you down, and it made you angry that it was kind of working. He suggested an alternative: “You don’t have to come home. Let’s just meet up somewhere.”

You don’t want that either. “Namjoon...Do you have any idea what you put me through?...W-why would I want to see you? Why would I want to hear anything you have to say?”

“I..I don’t have an answer to that. But I know you deserve an explanation.”

That made you quiet. These past months all you did was ask yourself why. Why did he do it? What reason did he have for breaking your heart? And there were so many more questions. You knew you wouldn’t get any peace of mind until they’re answered. It was what you wanted. No, needed.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I’ll do it,” You conceded. “Where should we meet up?” You were not going ‘home’. You don’t feel comfortable there. There was a lull on the other line as Namjoon thought of a location.

“Can we meet at our place?”

. . .

You knew exactly what Namjoon meant when he said “our place”. When the two of you first started dating, it was really hard for you to be together. You work as a stylist at a fashion magazine and you met him and the other boys while working at a photoshoot. Namjoon caught your eye with his intuitive gaze and cool persona. He spoke to everyone on set with a natural esteem you found attractive. You were so surprised when you actually got the chance to speak to him and he turned out to be nothing like he appeared.

Gone was the calm, collected image you saw in front of the camera. Namjoon stuttered when he asked for your name, his cheeks bloomed into a rosy red. His nervousness charmed you, and in that moment, somehow you knew you would end up falling for him hard.

It didn’t take very much for you to give him your number. But finding a spot to go on a date with the famous rapper proved a bit more difficult. You never liked the idea of sneaking around, but you understood why. Namjoon wanted to keep things private to protect you, just in case the news of him dating didn’t go well with the public. For a long time it seemed like there was never going to be a place where Namjoon wasn’t recognized.

All the face masks and hats in the world couldn’t hide his fame. You grew tired of being swarmed in coffee shops and restaurants. You just wanted a place where you could talk, maybe hold his hand, and be at peace. Ironically, you found it when you stopped looking. It ended up not even being in a building, but instead an empty park.

Its lush greenery held quiet beauty. Not very many people knew about it, which made it perfect.

Some of the biggest conversations you ever had as a couple were spoken out here, and today was no different.

You walk up to a table nearby, tugging on the hem of your white summer dress. Fidgeting like this makes you feel stupid. You shouldn’t be nervous. If anyone should be nervous for today’s meeting it would be Namjoon. But ever since you agreed to see him, a bad feeling formed in the pit of your stomach. You didn't want to be nervous. You didn’t feel like you’d make it out of this alive if you were. You had to be steel. Strong, unbreakable. You couldn’t allow yourself to get hurt again.

It did not surprise you to see him there early. He was the type of person who liked to be punctual. Or at least he used to be. You had to remind yourself that he wasn’t the same person you married. You didn’t know anything about him. Hell, after the last few months you were still trying to figure out some things about yourself.

Under the shade of the table's umbrella, Namjoon sits, bouncing his leg up and down. The only other time you’d seen him this nervous was during BTS’s first dome concert. His head faces down, staring at the ground with a look so intense he doesn’t even notice you approach him. The daze is broken once you sit down on the bench.

Namjoon jumps up, eyes wide as he looks at your face. “Y-you came?!”

It takes all your strength not to roll your eyes. Obviously...you thought.

He clears his throat, quickly sitting back down. “Thank you.”

For a while you just look at each other. You have to calm your heart as you take in his appearance. He’s just as handsome as you remembered. But something was different. He changed his hair. His silver locks were now a honeyed blonde. The warm glow of his skin had disappeared. And his once bright eyes now hold dark circles underneath them. He looked like shit, but you were still attracted to him, what logic was that?

The air tenses with silence, the way it always seems to do when you’re around him now. This is a mistake. Neither of you know where to begin. You hate it, but you know this conversation will never get anywhere if you don’t initiate it. “You said you wanted to explain. So explain.”

Namjoon looks tense. “I-i don’t even know where to start.”

That irritates you. You came all this way, and he didn’t even plan what he was going to say?

“What about the beginning?”

Namjoon sighed. He licked his lips, folded his hands, and then he did it. He told you everything. He told you about his anxiety, and the loneliness he felt. The desire to make it all fade away even for just a few moments. How he almost came clean the first time around. And the guilt that festered inside him for keeping the secret for so long.

“I wanted to tell you. But I knew I couldn’t tell you I cheated and keep you I—” Namjoon stopped. He looked away from you, biting down hard on his bottom lip before returning his gaze to yours.

“I was selfish. And I was wrong. There is no excuse for what I did. I’m so sorry, (Y/n).”

Your lips parted in shock. Going into this situation, you expected things to go a whole lot different. You expected him to try and defend himself, or at least blame you for the reason he cheated…but that wasn’t happening. Namjoon wasn’t trying to justify what he did, but instead taking full responsibility for his actions. Those words weren’t coming from the same man you walked away from. That man was filled with too much pride to even acknowledge his own actions—let alone apologize for them.

His actions surprised you. It was almost enough to make you drop your guard. Almost.

“I know you have questions. I’ll answer anything you ask me honestly, I swear.”

You paused. This is the moment you've been waiting for, and now that it was finally here you didn't know what to say. There were so many questions you wanted to ask. But you want to be sure you'll ask the right questions. And that you're prepared to hear the answers. Once you got the information you were dying to hear, you couldn't give it back. You’d have to live with it.

Finally, you spoke. “How’d you do it? How’d you keep this a secret for so long?”

“I kept a second phone hidden.”

The answer came with some relief. You knew you weren’t crazy, that there was some secret method to his deceit. The idea had come once or twice to go through his phone, but you knew Namjoon would never be that messy. “Did anyone else know?”

He nodded once, and a wave of aggravation rippled through you. “Some of the members knew.”

“Are you serious?” You laugh, but the sound felt hollow coming from your lips. “They must think I’m so stupid….”

“You know they don’t think that, they love you.”

You grimaced. Yeah, right. “Not enough to let me know the truth.”

Briefly you wondered which members knew and what kept them from coming to you, but you tried to push those thoughts away. You came here with questions for Namjoon. Nothing else mattered.

“Was it emotional?” You asked. “Did you love her?”

He shook his head vigorously. “No. No, it was just physical. They didn't mean anything to me.”

All the blood in your body went cold. “They?”

Namjoon opens his mouth. Then closed it again. “Shit.” He hoped to leave that part out of this meeting. A part of him knew it wouldn't be fair to you but would the truth really be any better?

“.....There was more than one girl?”

He ran a hand down his face then nodded, avoiding eye contact. “Yes.”

Through gritted teeth you ask, “How many?”

You wait for an answer but this time Namjoon keeps quiet. “You said you'd answer anything.”

“I know—”

“So that was a lie?”

“No.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “Then why won't you tell me?”

Namjoon tensed, jaw clenching. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

You narrowed your gaze on him. “Well it’s too fucking late for that don’t you think? ‘Honestly’, huh? You’re so full of shit Namjoon. Being honest means telling the whole truth. All of it!”

“How many?” You press. Part of you is afraid of the answer but you still need to know.

You wait, staring him down but Namjoon looked away. He can’t say it looking you in the eye, instead he buries his face in his hands then mutters out the word three.

“Three?” You repeat.

You lean back from him, gripping the edge of the table. It felt like the world was spinning around you. Wow. Three girls. Three different girls.

Sensing your distress Namjoon quickly added. “They're just girls. They don’t matter.”

You shook your head, refusing to accept that for an answer. “Of course they matter. You made a choice to go to them, instead of me. I have to know why. What did they have that I didn’t?”

“Everything.”

Ouch, okay. You close your eyes as the pain from that statement washes all over you. The pain you feel isn’t new, but familiar. Like reopening an old wound. But Namjoon isn’t finished. Before you can even process his words he speaks again. “They were selfish, demanding, and manipulative...the complete opposite of you.”

You feel your brows pull together. “Is that supposed to make me feel better? The fact that all the women you slept with are somehow lesser than me?”

Namjoon looks confused and hurt. “(Y/n), I don't know what you want from me. I can’t change the past, all I can say is I’m sorry.”

For so long all you wanted was for him to apologize. Really apologize. No excuses, no bullshit. But now that you finally heard it, sorry just didn’t feel like enough. Instead his words make you feel empty inside. Sorry, isn’t enough to stay. You want to leave now.

Clearing your throat, you got ready to go. “I don’t know what to say to that and I don’t have anymore question so—”

“Can I ask you a question?”

You huffed out a sigh. “Fine.”

“Why did you leave? You said you'd never leave me.”

You feel yourself flush with frustration. “And you said you'd never cheat on me. Promises mean nothing. Words, mean nothing. The only thing that matters is how you act.”

“Besides,” You said, looking away from him to the beautiful summer landscape. “You didn't try to stop me. It's like you didn't even care.”

“Of course I cared. I made a mistake—”

Standing up, you slam your hands down on the table. “It was not. A mistake! Oh my god! How can you still not get it? Cheating is a choice! You made a choice! You think I didn’t get lonely all those nights I spent by myself? You think you’re the only man who’s ever approached me???”

“Of course not—”

“No. Of course not! Because I’m a catch, Namjoon.” Not caring how loud you get, you raise your voice. “I am kind, I am smart, I am ambitious, I am beautiful. You had to be out of your fucking mind to cheat on me!” You said, pressing your index finger against your temple.

You’re crying now, hot tears streaming down your face.“Why can’t you see that? Everyone else can.”

It’s the only question that goes unanswered. Namjoon stares at you, eyes glistening, but he doesn’t say a word.

“I can’t do this,” You wiped at your wet face frantically, standing up to leave.

(Y/n), please.” Namjoon moved to stop you but you ripped out of his grasp.

“I have to go.” You say reaching for your bag, ready to walk away from him, from your marriage, and all the hurt he just laid at your feet.

Love Drought

♪ Nine times out of ten, I'm in my feelings. But ten times out of nine, I'm only human. Tell me, what did I do wrong? Feel like that question has been posed. I'm movin' on.

. . .

You haven't seen Namjoon but that doesn’t stop you from thinking about him.

You think about him almost every single day. What was he doing? How was he moving on without you? Was he moving on at all, or was he just sitting around somewhere...waiting for you to come back?

All these questions only fueled your anxiety and your determination to stay as far away as possible from Namjoon. If you didn’t see him, if you went away...Then those questions would go away too, right? You were going for the whole ‘out of sight out of mind thing’. But it wasn’t working. Because even though you said you were done—Namjoon still had pieces of you. Literally. Your things still remained untouched at the house.

You meant it when you said you didn’t want to go back home. But you needed to come get your belongings. It takes all of your strength to make the drive over without stopping to throw up, or cry. Stepping inside the place where your marriage died was the last thing you wanted to do on your day off. You put off the inevitable for months but it’s time now, you’re moving on, and you’re moving out.

So why was it so hard for you to move past the front door?

You stood there, frozen at the threshold. Heart aching at the thought of what you’re about to do. Fuck (Y/n), you cursed at yourself.You’re a grown ass woman, you can do this. Get in there. It was dead quiet in the house, as you hoped. You’re too much of a coward to call Namjoon and let him know you’re coming to take the last of your things. Couldn’t even text him. No message you typed out felt right. Anything you had to say you already told him. At this point, you both know your marriage is at its end. All you can do is pray that he won’t be there the same time you are. It’s why you chose to come in the evening. Namjoon wouldn’t be home until very late at night because of his schedule. It would give you enough time to get most of your things packed up.

Bawling your hands into fists you gripped your door key tightly, slid it in the keyhole, and unlocked the door. You take two steps inside, close the door behind you, and it feels as though you’ve stepped through time. It’s like nothing’s changed. You don’t quite know what you were expecting. You didn’t have any expectations coming over, but now looking at the space before you, you decided this isn’t it.

The house isn’t spotless, but it’s tidy, neat. In stark contrast from the last time you were here, and the fit you threw. Somehow you expected the house to look exactly in that state: broken. But nothing’s really changed. Soon your feet take on movement of their own, walking you towards the bedroom. Being back in that room is strange. It's almost as if you never left him at all. The sunset pools through the window, drowning the bed in light that looks like honey. The space has the essence of your home. The only difference you feel now is the emptiness. You spent many nights home without Namjoon but it never felt like this.

This time you’re really all by yourself. You don’t live in the same house anymore, but you're not completely alone living off your bestfriends couch. It’s been years since you’ve remembered what it feels like to be without a partner. You wondered...This emptiness...Is this what it would feel like to live without Namjoon?

You swallow down a sob, trying not to drown in your loneliness and turn and walk into the closet. Remember why you're here. Get your things, you just have to make it through these next few minutes. You reminded yourself that the hard part, the confrontation (and the leaving) was already over. All you have to do now is pack.

Strange enough your heart still aches, though not in the way it did before. This is not the ache of betrayal. You truly believed that pain would never subside but it did. Not by time but by choice. You had to choose to let go of the anger and the hurt, choose to free yourself from resentment. No. This ache was something else entirely. But you couldn’t put a name to it.

You step inside your closet, eyes studying your hung up clothes and the suitcases hidden underneath them. Not wanting to spend any more time than needed here, you got on your knees and started pulling out suitcases, folding up clothes, and putting them away. It all went much quicker than you’d expected (you got most of your clothes out during the beginning of your separation). You were picking off hangers at the end of the closet when you came across a garment bag. The garment bag.

Right away you knew you shouldn’t. Only a masochist would unzip the garment bag to their wedding dress when they’re currently living apart from their husband. And yet, you still did it. Tentatively your fingers reached out to grab hold of the bag. You pulled it into your lap and slowly undid the zipper. Then you saw your wedding dress, and you melted. As your eyes traced over the lace detail the memories of that day flickered through your mind.

It wasn’t at all what you expected. When you were younger, you always dreamed of a big wedding, everything you've ever heard about in fairytales. You wanted it to happen early in the morning, in a beautiful church with stained glass windows, surrounded by all your friends and family. You expected there would be flowers everywhere, and something else, something special. The romantic in you hoped for doves or maybe butterflies. And your dress? Only the most regal ball gown would do as you walked down the aisle to the man of your dreams.

Of course, fantasies rarely become reality. The issue of privacy is important when marrying a celebrity. At the time, just getting married seemed impossible, let alone doing it big. With the group's growing fame and Namjoon’s busy schedule, how could you find the time to get married? Or find a venue where fans or media couldn’t find you? You’d have to plan every second, every detail. Nothing could be left up to chance. Both of you were so in love but also, so very stressed with the situation before you until Namjoon made a second proposal.

“Why don’t we just elope?” he asked.

It was late at night. You lay in the comfort of his arms, head resting on his chest and mere seconds away from blissful sleep, so it took you a full minute to process that sentence. You lifted your head to look into his eyes. “What?”

Namjoon smiled down at you, thumb rubbing slow circles against your back. “Let’s just do it. Get married, I mean. Who says we have to wait or plan? I love you. I wanna marry you now.”

You sat up in bed, propped yourself up on your arm, and searched his face. “Are you serious?”

You watched amused as he narrowed his sharp eyes at you in a mock glare. “Why would I joke about this? Of course I’m serious! Let’s do it.”

You looked at him hard for a minute, but when Namjoon didn’t flinch you knew he was for real. Then of course the panic kicked in. “Baby, what? Let’s do it? It’s not like we can just walk into a church and say ‘I do’ !”

“Technically, we can.”

You shook your head, “No. What about all the plans we’ve made? I already booked the venue, and our caterer—”

Namjoon rolled over onto his side, facing you. “So we’ll cancel. The date’s still months away, that's more than enough time to give notice that we’ve changed our minds.”

You laughed,, but your shaky breath came out like a scoff. “Do you know how hard it was for me to get those reservations?! That cathedral is wedding heaven! It is stained glass perfection. The wait time is usually up to a year. A YEAR. And our cake, it’s being made by Giovanni Bianchi—world renowned pastry chef—Giovanni Bianchi. It’s a seven-tiered baked dream. And you want me to cancel?”

To your disbelief Namjoon simply shrugged. “Do we really need all that?”

He reached out, taking your hands in his. He looked down, stroking them with his thumbs in an effort to soothe you. “Grand cathedral or not, as long as we’re together, I’m already in heaven. Our wedding will be perfect no matter where we are because we have each other. And the cake? Well, why would I need a dream cake, when I can have my dream girl?” He said, winking at you.

Your heart swelled at sweet words. As much as you wanted to roll your eyes you couldn’t help but smile. God, he was so cheesy. But isn’t that why you loved him? Still...you felt anxious. He might have melted your heart, but you weren’t fully convinced.

“Yeah okay, very smooth. What about our families? They’ve been looking forward to this so much. Our mothers will murder us!” You made a face, suddenly remembering your wedding party. “Oh the boys…..Jin will be so disappointed if he doesn’t get to be your best man” (you distinctly recalled him rejoicing at the news knowing he’d be “the most handsome” best man ever).

Namjoon brought your fingers to his lips and kissed the tips in between explanations. “It’s not about them”. Kiss. “Jin will get over it”. Kiss. “Our families will forgive us”. Kiss. “We’re not getting married for anyone else but us, we can do it however we want.”

You nodded your head in agreement, though you were still unsure. You knew all these things. Of course your marriage would be just for the two of you. You had no interest in simply performing the act for others approval. You loved Namjoon, you loved your relationship together, and you wanted to do what felt right for the both of you. Still, you couldn’t help but worry about the public’s opinion.

“What about your fans?” you asked. “What if pictures get out?” The whole point of all this planning was for privacy. The world knew BTS was dating, many fans suspected they had secret girlfriends, but a wife? How would they react to that? You didn’t want to hurt anyone, least of all Namjoon and his image. You know how hard he and the rest of Bangtan worked to be respected in the music industry. What would happen if the world found out their leader was dating a nobody like you?

Namjoon looked you straight in the eyes, and spoke in a calm voice. “I don’t care. I’m not ashamed of loving you. Let the whole world see that I’m marrying the kindest, loveliest, soul I’ve ever known. I don’t care what they think, or what they say. I just want you. All I want is to be your husband, and for you to be my wife. Nothing else matters.”

You felt another wave of love pass over your heart. His sincerity stunned you. You glanced at him with glistening eyes. “Namjoon…Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

He grinned at you, letting go of your hand to reach up and cup your cheek. “Are you done yet?” He teased. “Despite all your protests, I haven’t heard you say no…?”

You took a second to think through your conversation. Namjoon was right. You never said no, because as crazy as it was, you agreed with your fiancé wholeheartedly. You wanted this, you wanted him just as much as he wanted you, and you wanted to get married as quickly as possible. With a new resolve you shifted in the bed straddling him, then wrapped your arms around his neck. “Okay,” you said.

Namjoon raised both eyebrows up. “Okay!? Just like that? Anything else I need to assure you of? We have our marriage license. I have a tux. You already have your dress. I know you’re concerned but we have everything we need.”

You nodded. This time you were sure. “Let’s do it.”

Namjoon hesitated, then his face broke into a smile that was so bright it gave life to one of your own. In that moment you realized what you thought to be nerves earlier was really just excitement. You brought your hand to his shoulders, squeezing tight. “We’re getting married,” you whispered, voice full of awe.

“We’re getting married!” Namjoon echoed.

Before you knew it, you were walking down the aisle. You let him plan it all. You got married at night, in a small church, without stained glass windows. There was no big guest list, but neither of you could stand the thought of going through the ceremony completely by yourselves, so you allowed for your immediate family to be there (that included Yoongi, Hoseok, Jin, Jimin, Taehyung, and Jeongguk). Flowers did not adorn every pew, but the space was illuminated by soft and warm candlelight. No butterflies or doves. It wasn’t like what you imagined in your head. Life rarely coincides with those kinds of plans. But Namjoon was right. Because you had each other, it was perfect.

In the end, the only part of your wedding that lived up to the fairytale was your dress. It was everything you wanted in a gown. All white with a sweetheart neckline, crystal embroidery and layers upon layers of tulle. The dress felt a bit heavy, but you can still remember the look on his face when he lifted your veil. In one glance, he made all that weight disappear. You felt lighter than air. “You look like an angel.” He whispered, voice sweet and low, so only you could hear. In that moment all you could feel was love.

So how did you end up here? Clutching your wedding dress on the closet floor, desperately wiping away tears. God, what a mess you are. You pushed out a breath and started shoving the white, fluffy fabric back into the garment dress. It was a mistake taking this out. You couldn’t get it back in again. Your fingers slip as you try to grip the zipper, and you can’t tell if it’s because of your sweaty palms or your wet tears, but it won’t budge. Why won’t it zip? You pull up hard, snagging the dress in its teeth.

Shit. Frustration flushes through you as you snatch the zipper back down only to hear the distinct sound of fabric tearing in the process.

You shut your eyes tight, shoulders slumping with defeat. When you opened your eyes again all you could see was the rip in the dress, threads straining and unraveling all at once. It looked as torn up as you feel inside. Part of you is falling apart at the idea of leaving Namjoon, pressured to leave all of this pain behind and let go of the relationship. Call it mind over matter. It didn’t make sense to stay with a man you had broken your heart and your trust. All logic told you to divorce him and never look back. You know this. And yet? There is a part of you aching to repair what’s been broken, pull out the sorrow from this home, and heal all the hurt.

You were so busy wrapped in your thoughts that you hadn’t heard the door unlock, or footsteps tread into the bedroom. From the corner of your eye you saw a glimpse of blond hair, wide brown shoulders. It was Namjoon. You couldn’t help the startled gasp that fell from your lips.

“(Y/n)”, he breathed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Namjoon kept his distance. He didn’t look at you and didn’t cross the threshold of the closet door, generously leaving space between you. Instead, his eyes were glued to the floor. “I saw your car out front, but I didn’t think it’d actually be you here.” He reached up a hand, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. I don’t mean to be rude. I’m just...confused.” Namjoon glanced up at you from underneath his eyelashes then slowly, his smokey eyes rose to meet yours. “Why are you here?”

“. . .” You faltered. Once Namjoon laid his eyes on you, you softened, even after all this time he had that effect on you. You were still consumed in thoughts about your marriage...feeling that again, you didn’t know what to think. You almost preferred it when you felt anger or pain at the sight of him. Instead you felt something else. You looked down at your lap, fingering the dress. Was it longing? You started again, making eye contact. “I came back to get the rest of my things.”

A look passed across Namjoon’s face but before you could identify it, it was gone. Namjoon nodded, looking away from your face. His gaze shifted to your hands. “Is...is that—”

“—My wedding dress? Yes.” You tried to think of an excuse, some reason for you having it out but nothing came to mind. You shrugged, settling for the truth. “I just wanted to look at it I guess.” Both of you ignored your tear stained face.

Namjoon bit his lip, the silence stretching between you until he said, “I’ll leave you to it,” and abruptly walked away. Finally alone you breathed out a sigh.

You felt a tinge of disappointment. And you were angry with yourself for it. You don’t know what you were hoping for, or what you wanted to get out of that conversation. What’d you expect? Did you really think after everything that he’d lower himself one last time and beg for you to come back? Again? The man you married you would have, but the man who cheated on you? No, he had too much pride. This wasn’t a romance movie where the couple fights and breaks up but somehow everything magically fixes itself and they get back together. It was really over.

The finality of it all stunned you. You sat there, numbing yourself to the pain for a minute. Then you striantened out your wedding dress, and zipped up the garment bag. This time it went up without a hitch. You were just getting up off your knees when Namjoon whipped back into the room, surprising you.

“I know you could care less about anything I have to say right now,” he began, raising a cautious hand. “You probably hate me, and I understand that. I hate myself for what I’ve done to you.” He looked up in thought then pressed his hands into his eyes. When his hands fell away you braced yourself for what came next. “I’m asking you for a second chance. I’m asking you for a second chance because I love you more than anything. You are the love of my life, and I’m sorry I forgot that. I know you don’t owe me anything, least of all your forgiveness.”

He stopped, voice thickening as he gulped down tears. “But I’m asking for it.”

“I couldn’t live with myself knowing I didn’t do everything to get you back.”

Tears filled your eyes. “Are you saying that, because you love me? Or are you saying that because you want me back?”

His gaze never wavered. “Both. I want you back, because I love you. Knowing you and loving you has been the biggest blessing in my life. I don’t regret it. I'd do it all over again, just to have you in my life. Even if it meant losing you. ”

All at once it hit you. That feeling, the one you struggled to identify when you held your wedding dress in your arms. It wasn’t longing. It was love. You were still in love with Namjoon.

And so you did the unthinkable. You kissed him.

Sandcastles

♪ We built sandcastles that washed away. I made you cry when I walked away, oh. And although I promised that I couldn't stay, baby. Every promise doesn't work out that way.

. . .

It only takes seconds for you to cross the space between and press your lips to his. For a moment, Namjoon doesn’t move—doesn’t even breathe. Then his arms wrapped around you, brought you flush against him and you melted in his embrace as he kissed you, his lips softer than ever. Deep down, you know you shouldn’t. It would be too painful to become wrapped up in Namjon again only to tear yourself away from him. But your body has a will of its own. When his tongue swept across your bottom lip, you parted for him like the red sea and every emotion you’d ever felt for him came flooding back.

Every kiss you’ve ever had, every whisper of “I love you,” all of it ignited in your mind the second Namjoon kissed you back in a moment so intense you felt your body tremble at his touch. His lips moved gently over yours while his hands came up to cup your cheeks, and before you know it, you find yourself in the middle of the most sensual kiss you’ve had in your life. Namjoon kissed you like he was hungry, tongue rolling into your mouth. You couldn’t help but moan, arching into his embrace.

It was shameful how your body responded back to him. You could feel your heart rate increase, the heat rushing to your cheeks. You couldn’t remember the last time you wanted him like this. Your thoughts traveled back to the words that sparked your desire: “I want you back, because I love you. Knowing you and loving you has been the biggest blessing in my life. I don’t regret it. I'd do it all over again, even if it meant losing you.”

All this time you’d been fighting against your love for Namjoon, convinced any feelings he had for you were long gone. But everything he said proved otherwise.

It was confusing to you. You spent so much time thinking that Namjoon didn’t want you anymore, you’d even come to accept it but now? You didn’t know what to think. Your mind was screaming for you to pull away, stop before it went any further. That everything you were doing right now was wrong. Except, it didn’t feel wrong. It almost felt...good. Right.

The truth is you feel exactly the same. Despite everything you’d been through, you still loved Namjoon. He was the love of your life and you wished with everything in you that you could turn back the clock and start over. If what he said was true—if there was even a possibility of Namjoon still loving you, you needed to feel that.

Namjoon’s touch made you desperate. You found your hands tracing the planes of his body, running down his muscular arms before coming back up as you linked your arms around his neck. He kissed you deeper, groaning low in his throat, and the sound was enough to drive you wild. Even this close, you couldn’t get enough of him. All you could feel was the compulsive need for more. More of his touch. More of his kisses. More, more, more.

You could feel Namjoon’s body backing you up to the bed. Your knees hit the mattress and you allowed yourself to fall back against the soft sheets. But Namjoon didn’t fall with you. You opened your eyes, instantly giving way to panic. His pause alarmed you. Your anxiety reared its ugly head, speaking cruelty into your mind. How could you be so foolish? What were you thinking, kissing Namjoon? He didn’t actually want you. He was leading you on, playing with your feelings. That’s why he stopped.

You pulled yourself up, leaning your weight back on your elbows to look into his eyes. You expected to see cold rejection on his handsome face, but what you saw in his gaze wasn’t at all what you imagined. Instead, when you looked into his eyes, all you could see was raw, unfiltered desire. And strangely enough, uncertainty.

Namjoon had a million thoughts racing through his mind, all of them questions.

How did he end up here, with you spread across his bed when only minutes before you seemed worlds apart? The situation didn’t feel real, more like a fantasy, like he dreamed you up. But if this dream was real—if this dream was really coming true—should he let it?

Of course he wanted you. If you kissed him like this a couple of months ago, Namjoon wouldn’t hesitate to take you; he’d have his way with you until you screamed his name. But tonight, the last thing Namjoon wanted. He’d spent months craving your touch; the feel of your lips against his, how the heat of your body felt flush against his. He caused you enough pain acting on his lust. He didn’t want to hurt you further by taking advantage of the situation.

Both of you got caught in an emotional whirlwind but this kiss was a mistake, wasn’t it? He looked down at you, waiting for you to push him away but you didn’t make a move. Instead, you stared at him, desire burning in your eyes. God, that look alone was enough to arouse him. Still, he didn’t make any move to kiss you.

You took a moment to look at Namjoon, really look at him. Trying to uncover the emotion swirling behind his dark eyes. The longer you stared, the more you felt like your heart was going to burst from your chest. You could see his uncertainty but the feeling wasn’t mutual.

Was it insane to sleep with your soon to be ex-husband? Yes. Did it make you want it any less?

Not even in the slightest.

I must be losing my mind. You couldn’t explain it yourself, but kissing Namjoon opened up something in you. Feelings you didn’t know you still had swept all over you. Heat washed over your body. You could feel your skin flush, passion stirring in your blood.

“Are you sure?” he asked, voice taut with apprehension.

Your body was practically screaming yes. But Namjoon’s hesitation made you pause.

Reading the confusion in your eyes, he quickly backtracked. “I’m not saying I don’t want to—believe me I do—I just don’t want you to do something tonight that you’ll regret in the morning.”

Your mind wasn’t there. That moment seemed so far off from the ever-present now and the rapid beating of your heart and the warmth of Namjoon’s body. You knew you had to make a choice. Yes or no. There was a small voice in the back of your head cautioning you against this. But tonight you were following your heart. Consequences be damned.

You looked up at him and nodded. “I want this.”

Namjoon leaned forward to kiss you, and you shivered at the feel of his lips against yours. This time, there was no hesitation. You couldn’t remember the last time Namjoon kissed you like this. Slowly, tenderly, like this kiss mattered. Like you mattered. Any inhibition you had melted away as you leaned into his touch. You felt yourself lower back down onto the bed. Namjoon’s hands passed over your body, slimming down your waist, before coming to rest on your thighs. You let them linger there, savoring the feeling of his hands on your body.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. You were so into the kiss, the feel of him you didn’t notice his hands pry off your clothes until you were left in only your underwear.

He stopped then, pulled away from your lips to look at you. Then the only thing you could feel on your body were his eyes drinking you in. The eye contact alone had you squeezing your thighs together. You watched the heat build in his dark gaze until his eyes lingered just a little too long, until your skin tingled all over from the intensity.

Then he was all over you, leaving open-mouthed kisses down your throat. Hands cupping your breasts. The feel of him against your thigh. It was an assault to your senses, but instead of overwhelming you, it only made you crave him even more. You arched your back as Namjoon kissed your collarbone, slowly making his way down the valley of your breasts. You moaned at the sensation of his tongue moving down your body, closer and closer to where you needed him most.

“Namjoon,” You breathed, body humming with pleasure. He looked up from between your thighs, dark eyes connecting with yours for a split second. You watched as he hooked his fingers into your underwear and dragged them down your legs. Then he gave his complete attention to your body, licking a long strip straight down your center that had you moaning his name again.

Namjoon gripped your thighs firmly in his hands, pulling you closer towards him. He wanted you to know that this meant more to him than just sex, that he loved you, and that he was more than willing to show you just how much. He takes his time tasting you. Each lick languid and loving. He didn’t want to tease you, all he wanted to do was to please you. To touch you and erase the pain he caused--even if only for a second. Namjoon swirled his tongue across your clit. Once, twice, a third time, drawing sweet moans and gasps from your lips.

You couldn’t keep yourself quiet. It’d been so long since anyone touched you. Throughout everything, you still remained faithful to Namjoon. And even if you’d been with another, no one could ever make you feel like this. Have your toes curling, back arching. It was almost embarrassing how easily you melted under his touch. Some part of you still wondered how you could give in so easy. Shouldn’t you be feeling some resistance? All you felt was longing.

You found yourself rocking your hips against him, and crying out as his tongue delved deeper.

You wanted to bring your hands up to your face to muffle the sounds but before you could, Namjoon stopped you.

“Don’t,” he said. He took hold of your hands and threading his fingers through yours. All the while his tongue was still swirling against you, making lewd sounds that had you feeling hot.

You could feel your body heating up, the rise and fall of your chest coming faster and faster. When you felt him slide tongue inside you, pressing up against your sweet spot—it was enough to push you over the edge. You came, squeezing Namjoon’s hands tight.

Namjoon lapped up your juices, enjoying the taste of your slick on his tongue. Even then he didn’t stop, coaxing a second orgasm out of you with soft licks against your center.

“Joon,” you whimpered, body humming with oversensitivity. “Too much.”

Only then did he pull away, moving to place a tender kiss on the inside of your thigh. He sat up, and you rose on your elbows ready and willing to return the favor, but Namjoon gently pushed you back down on the bed, shaking his head.

“I just wanna be inside you right now,” he rasped.

God, you wanted that too. They way Namjoon ate you out had your body begging for more. You weren't going to argue with him.

Namjoon sat up and placed a hand around your neck, guiding you back to his lips. It started out slow. Soft, sweet kisses against your lips. It wasn’t until he slipped his tongue inside your mouth that he found himself suddenly desperate for you. Even more surprising was your reaction to him. You kissed him back with just as much fever, completely captivated.

The kiss seemed to go on forever. When you finally pulled away, you looked at each other, panting, the air thickening between you two. Namjoon’s dark eyes stared down at you with an intensity that pierced your soul. You knew he felt it too. This energy...There was still love between you. But you’d already made your decision. You wanted this moment, this passion but you couldn’t trust him with your heart and be sure he wouldn’t break it. I can’t fall for him again. I can’t. You wanted him badly but wanting him, and trusting him were two different things.

“Namjoon,” you started. Then stopped, trying to find the right words to explain. “This isn’t—I can’t—”

“—Stay? I know.” Namjoon knew what he was getting into the second you kissed him. He knew this was goodbye, and that it would hurt like hell come morning. He didn’t care. If only he could change the past, he’d take it all back.

But he couldn’t. The damage was already done. This was the last time he’d ever hold you in his arms again. If he could have you, even for this short time, he’d take what he could get. He wasn’t going to fuck it up trying to make this into something it wasn’t. He loved you too much to be selfish at this moment. If this were the last time, he would make it well worth your while.

“I just need tonight.”

Namjoon pulled you tighter against him, molding you against his body. Before making any sudden movement, he pulled back a little to look in your eyes, to make sure this was still what you wanted.

You cupped his cheek and kissed his lips, reassuring him. Then he aligned his cock against your entrance and pushed inside you with one smooth move. You tensed, freezing in his arms. The feeling of your walls clenched around him made staying still absolute torture. But Namjoon wouldn’t dare move.

You close your eyes and breathe out a shaky breath, familiarizing yourself with the burn of the stretch. He’s so thick it takes a minute for your body to adjust to the size. Though the sensation of Namjoon nuzzling into your neck helps turn the pain into pleasure. You hooked your leg around his waist nudging him forward.

The small act made both of you moan in unison. “Namjoon...please,” you breathed.

He moved, starting out with a pace that had your insides feeling molten. His hands gripped at your hips as he pulled out almost all the way, then slowly slid himself deep inside you. You were so wet, so tight he couldn’t help but groan. The feel of you taking all of him, giving him this pleasure and the look in your eyes...Namjoon was sure he’d never love another the same way.

This wasn’t just sex. Namjoon knew the difference now. What it really meant to be intimate with a partner. To share his body with someone not for a distraction or stroke his ego but for love. To draw closer with one another. This was it for him. You, it was always you. There would never be another. He started to rock into you, deep and slow, desperate to make you feel that.

You closed your eyes, losing yourself to the sensation. Needing more, you raised your hips to meet his thrusts and Namjoon took the hint, snapping his hips to meet yours faster. You cried out as he filled you again and again and again. Right now, you don't have to worry about future decisions. You didn’t have to think about all the conflicting feelings you had for this man.

Not that you could think about that anyways. Your senses were all wrapped up in how good Namjoon was making you feel. His pace was brutal just how you liked it, but his touch was nothing but kind. His hands trailed up to the small of your back keeping you close. Namjoon cupped your face as he kissed you; he only pulled away to rest his forehead against yours and looked into your eyes. You’d slept with Namjoon before, but something about this time was different. If you didn’t know any better—you’d think he was making love to you. He was so strong, yet so loving. You wished he could be this way with you always.

You wanted to stay here, savor this moment. But Namjoon was grinding his hips against yours in a way that had you breathless. You were so close. “Namjoon, I—”

“Come for me,” he said.

Growling, he thrust harder against you and reached down between your bodies to rub your clit, driving you towards your orgasm. Your pleasure built inside you, sweeping over your body like a wave until it crashed and washed over you, sending tremors down your body.

Feeling you come apart in his arms, Namjoon slowed his thrusts. You clenched around him till pleasure flooded his senses and he came too, burying his face in your neck and moaning out your name.

The only sound heard throughout the room was panting as the two of you came down from your highs. Namjoon brushed your hair away from your face and ran his thumb across your cheek.

“Are you okay?” he asked, voice full of concern. He rolled off you and onto his side so as not to crush you but remained close, his skin flush against yours.

“Mhmm…” you hummed. You stared at the ceiling as your heart rate slowed back down. You were expecting to feel something. Regret...maybe relief?

You don’t know what you were hoping for. Maybe subconsciously you thought sleeping with Namjoon would help you come to some kind of resolution. A grand epiphany that would tell you what to do with your situation. But really you didn’t feel any different than you did before.

“What are you thinking about?”

You shake your head as if to shake all those thoughts out of your head. “Nothing.”

Namjoon didn’t press you, but the silent tension in the air gave you the impression that he wanted to ask for more.

You’ve never felt so divided. The ego in you wanted to walk away from it all. Say goodbye and cut your losses, no matter the cost. You made peace with leaving because you were so sure that Namjoon didn’t want you. You knew you couldn’t be with a man who had no love for you. But now, knowing that there was still love here. That he still cared, that you still cared. It changed things. You wanted it to work. But you weren’t sure if you could love him the same; there was always the issue of trust. How could you ever trust him again?

“I’m sorry,” said Namjoon. “I thought this was what you wanted.”

You turned to face him then, lying on your side. “It was what it wanted and now…” You trailed off, lost to your thoughts again. You had to think about it. Dig deep and really question what it was you were searching for.

“Now what? What do you need?” His expression was torn but honest.

So you asked for what you really wanted out of him. You asked for the truth.

“I need you to tell me everything.”

. . .

And he does. That night, as you bathe together, he finally tells you the truth. The whole truth.

When the sweat on your skin dried and became sticky, Namjoon ran a bath. You both got inside the clawfoot tub and sat on opposite sides, bodies intermingling as you faced each other. It was thick with quiet as the bath filled up with heated water.

At first, Namjoon hesitated. You could tell he wanted to spare your feelings. So he gave you the truths in little bits. Pieces of information you could swallow, like the names of his past lovers, and when each act happened. Then slowly, bigger chunks that had you holding your breath as you processed the facts of his betrayal. He told you about it all. About the weakness, the desperation, and the loneliness he felt on tour. The need to be touched and seen–really seen–by someone. Even if that someone wasn’t you. How one bad decision turned into two, turned into three. And the guilt. The guilt that accompanied the deception that rose and rose like high flames, eating him up inside.

By the time Namjoon’s done speaking, the water’s gone lukewarm, and your fingers were pruned, yet neither of you gets out of the bath. You let Namjoon bring you to close, till your back's up against his chest. He lathers his hands, and you let his calloused palms wash the pain away. Till the only thing you feel is his light touch. You repeat this action to him, stroking his skin with absolute ease. Then, and only then do you step out of the water. Namjoon drapes a fluffy white towel over your shoulder and wraps it around you.

He looks you in the eyes, and tells you that you're the only woman he’s ever loved. The only woman he would ever love. And you believe him.

. . .

That night, you lay down beside him exhausted. Not the kind of exhaustion that comes from lack of sleep or a long day at work. Not the weariness that leads to nights of deep slumber–no–this is the weariness that puts stress on your heart. The kind that leaves you feeling drained. Empty. Beside you, Namjoon sleeps, but you’re wide awake.

Every nerve in your body is begging for rest. But it’s your heart keeping you up tonight.

Heart over mind, mind over matter. You're split in both directions. Wanting to stay, and wanting to go. You told yourself that you were leaving. Walking away from it all.

But something felt wrong.

Everything was already moving in one way, but your heart was starting to face another. You still hadn’t made up your mind.

You lay in bed with your eyes closed and remembered the first time you left. Before you knew the truth, before you knew anything really, except for the fact that you didn’t want to live in a lie. You packed your bag and drove to Jackson’s, but you couldn’t make it through the night without breaking down and calling your mom. You spilled your heart to her, and she heard you, even through all the tears. You called to get everything off your chest, but you were also searching for answers. You were desperate for her to give you some kind of sign of what you were supposed to do or an out, but she didn’t.

“Do you remember when you were little, and you used to make sandcastles at the beach?” she asked. “You used to love playing in the sand. Barely even went in the water. You spent all day just creating something, building your own world.”

It caught you off guard. You were so shocked that for the first time in hours you stopped crying.

The memory was hazy in your mind, but you could still picture those summer days filled with warm golden sun, and the salty sea air.

“Some days as the sun set, the tide would come in and wash away everything you worked on. And you’d cry. Cry your little heart out. There wasn’t anything I wanted more than to pick you up, and hold you in my arms, comfort you. But you were at that age where you needed to start learning how to comfort yourself. So I let you cry. And after you’d got out all your tears, sometimes you’d start over. Dig your hands into the sand and start building all over again. Make something new. And sometimes you’d give up, walk away and come sit by me.”

“Yeah mom I remember...but, what does that have to do with anything?”

“You built your marriage with Namjoon on a foundation of love, faith, and trust. That’s your sandcastle. And now that trust has been washed away you don’t know what to do, and you're crying out for me. Baby, I love you, but you’re gonna have to make this decision for yourself. I can’t make it for you. Whatever you decide, I will be right behind you, supporting you. If you want to stay and find a way to be together I will be here. If you want to divorce him I’ll be here for that, too. But you have to decide.”

You let her words sink in. You knew she was right. But you were so frustrated, so overwhelmed you burst into tears again. “How am I supposed to decide? It’s so hard to know what choice is right.”

“I don’t–I don’t want to make a mistake…” You said through sobs.

“(Y/n), the only thing worse than staying or going, is you holding your breath and being indecisive. You have to make a choice. Decide.”

You couldn't think of how to act on your mother’s advice back then, but in the present, you understood. You squinted in the dark and looked at the time. The clock on your nightstand reads 5:22 AM in bold red letters. You hadn’t even realized you’d been up all night with your thoughts.

You looked over at the man causing you this great affliction. Pale moonlight streamed through the window illuminated his heart-shaped face. You once thought of him to be a monster, but he wasn’t. He was just human. And for once, you finally sorted your feelings about him. You weren’t in limbo anymore.

You knew your decision:

Leave him | Choose him

[sirfrogsworth]

The Decision

Taking care of my dad has been challenging but probably the most rewarding thing I've ever done. In the past year I've had to push myself beyond my limits, beyond my illness, and do everything I could to make sure my dad was comfortable as his body slowly failed him.

I hadn't driven in over a decade, but he needed to get to dialysis so I took the entire driving test like a teenager in order to get my license again. I had to move out of my cozy basement command center and upstairs into the light. I hate the light. Much too bright. Since then we have been spending almost every second of every day together. This causes us to get on each others' nerves on occasion. But most of the time we are happy to have each others' company.

My job is mostly supervision and problem solving. I watch him to make sure he doesn't fall. But if he did fall, I needed a way to get him back up. So I found an electric chair lift. I just scoot his butt on and raise him back up. If he had a medical problem, I would figure out which doctor could help him. If his feet were cold, I would find battery-powered heated slippers to keep his toes toasty. Our house is filled with little solutions I found to make him as comfortable and safe as possible.

If he needs help with anything I am always right there to assist. It's usually little things, but for him, sometimes little things can be impossible things.

I was proud to do this and I believe it brought us closer than we have ever been.

Wednesday morning the surgery team came to visit my dad and look at his foot. They told me they cannot save the foot. My dad would need a below-the-knee amputation. This would require two months of grueling, painful rehab. Then another month or two for him to adjust to a prosthetic leg. Which he may not be able to tolerate with his balance issues.

Then the lung doctor came in. He said my dad's breathing could improve, but probably not to a comfortable degree. He explained with my dad's congestive heart failure getting worse, he is probably looking at another six months to a year of life, but only if everything with the amputation goes well.

I asked the lung doctor if this was all worth it. Four months of painful recovery from amputation just to live another two months? He said a reasonable person could decide it is worth it. That some people want to squeeze every second out of life. But another reasonable person might decide that quality of life is more important than length of life.

My dad has been unhappy with his health struggles for a while now. Dialysis is just awful. He sits in a chair for four hours, three times per week, and comes home absolutely wiped out. He sleeps for two to three hours and then feels miserable the rest of the night. Sometimes he will recover from the dialysis and then it is time to get more dialysis. Sundays were his only real day of rest because he had an extra day of recovery time.

He has breathing difficulties and they are getting worse. He can't take deep breaths so his lungs keep filling with CO2. The CO2 exacerbates his delirium and confusion. He has to wear an uncomfortable BiPAP breathing mask for hours to get rid of the CO2. Once the CO2 is blown off, he switches to high flow oxygen in his nose. The CO2 builds up again... back to the BiPAP. It has become a vicious cycle.

He is constantly trying to right his balance when he walks. He has arthritis pain that never stops. And because his circulation is so bad, his extremities are always either tingling or stinging him with neuropathy pain. Those heated slippers were his only refuge.

His depression is obvious. He curses at every little inconvenience. Every dropped pill due to his hands not working. Every time he bumps into the wall with his walker. Every time he fails to stand up, having to try multiple times. Everything frustrates him.

He hates being tethered to oxygen. He feels trapped in a 50 foot radius. He constantly wishes for nothing more than to go outside and take his riding mower for a spin.

I try to entertain him with new movies and TV shows, but he has trouble concentrating on new things. Sometimes he prefers just to watch his NCIS shows that he has seen many times. That way he won't get frustrated if he falls asleep and misses the ending.

And... he lost his wife.

He has had to exist without her for a year now and he sometimes forgets she is gone. He'll call out to her and she won't respond. He'll think she is still lying next to him in bed only to discover it is the pillow supporting his back. I think when she died a part of himself died as well. He lost a huge reason to keep fighting.

And since he has been back in the hospital, his delirium and confusion have returned. He is more lucid in the mornings after sleeping. But the exhaustion from not getting enough sleep, dialysis, his foot infection and pain, the drugs, the constant in-and-out of people checking on him... it's just too much. His brain cannot function without restful sleep. So he ends up hallucinating and losing the ability to communicate.

There just does not seem to be a path forward where he could have a comfortable quality of life.

In the height of his foot pain he has exclaimed many times "I WANT TO DIE." And while I know part of that was due to his misery and frustration and pain in that moment... I think that exclamation contained his unfiltered wishes.

He was lucid Wednesday morning and we had a good conversation. He did not want to endure months of recovery and rehab. He did not want the pain of losing a leg. He did not want to fight for every breath. He did not want to lose access to clear thoughts on a regular basis. And he did not want to continue on without the love of his life.

There is this selfish part of me that wanted to convince him to keep fighting. He is my best friend. He is the greatest father I could ask for. Taking care of him this past year has given me great purpose. It has been an honor to help take care of him--as he had done for me all of my life.

Lately, he has had trouble getting into bed and covering himself up. So I have been tucking him in every night just like he did for me when I was little. First I have to arrange his pillows just right. One between his legs and one for him to hug. I put on his toasty slippers to keep his feet warm. I pull the covers up, give him a hug, tell him I love him, and say goodnight. Then I ask his Alexa speaker to play Billy Joel for him to fall asleep to. And I love doing that for him. I feel happy that we got through another day.

Whenever I am alone in our house, I miss him. I have never been in an empty house. It just feels wrong. And I'm not sure I am ready to adjust to that reality.

I want to watch another season of Cardinal's baseball with him. He loves The Mandalorian so much and I want to watch the new episodes with him. I downloaded every John Wayne movie, and even though I don't always care for those films, I like seeing him smile as he watches The Duke get into trouble.

I don't want to lose both of my parents in the span of a year.

And, well, I also don't want to lose the house. I don't want to live on my own. I don't want to worry about not having enough money to live. These are just things I can't help worrying about. And I feel guilty for worrying about myself during this time.

I have all of these reasons to want him to continue on. And I bet if I asked him to keep trying, he would do that for me. He would continue suffering and struggling for me. Because there has never been a time in his life that he would not do *anything* for his sons.

That's just who he is.

But I know I have to filter those feelings and reasons out. I know I can't ask my father to endure any more pain and misery because I fear being alone. He has always done what is best for me, and now I need to return the favor.

He has lived a long life. He had a wife that he loved. He had two sons that he raised and instilled his values in. He has a beautiful legacy that will live on in us.

He has nothing left to accomplish in this world.

He told me he wanted an out but he didn't know how to go about it. But I did. And I had to fight the urge to keep it to myself. I did not want to tell my father how to end his life. And telling him almost felt like I was personally killing him.

Thursday morning his favorite doctor is going to come speak to us. She is his kidney doctor. She is going to explain the process of stopping dialysis. With palliative care, it can be a relatively painless exit. Over a few weeks his kidneys will fail to filter out toxins. They will build up in his system. And eventually he will fade to black.

My mother had a horrible, painful, lonely death. Her final words were over a telephone because of COVID restrictions. The last time I saw her was across the ICU through a glass window.

Thankfully, my dad will be able to go out on his own terms.

He will be comfortable and surrounded by loved ones.

[veren-cos]

Astarion x Reader (Bg3)

Gn reader with chronic pain

This one is pretty recent but lmk if I made any mistakes! Not proof read.

Astarion sauntered into the room after a successful night of hunting. He was hyper aware of everything from his latest feed, so the minute you made a move he noticed you were off.

And off you were, you looked like a wreck. You were in the same spot on the bed as when he left — hours ago. "Darling, are you alright?" There was concern in his voice.

You took the blanket and threw it over your face. Astarion's expression crinkled. He sat down next to where you lay, "My love, what's wrong?" He went to run his fingers through your hair but you pushed an arm out to nudge him away. He took a short pause, "I can't know what's wrong unless you speak to me."

You let out a groan, "I don't want to talk about it." There was a something in your voice that Astarion couldn't quite pinpoint.

"Then I won't make you, but please don't push me away."

You were a sucker for contact- holding hands, hugs, light kisses. Anything and everything he'd allow. He tried reaching his hand out again, and you let him.

"I'm sorry" it was barely above a whisper.

He hesitated a bit but his hand kept a steady pace on your head. "Whatever for? You haven't done anything wrong." He laughed a bit, "unless you were causing mischief without me today."

"I'm sorry you have to put up with me." You tighten your grip on the blanket covering your face, avoiding his. You just knew that he was going to look at you with pity. Pity? Anger maybe. Something serious, and you didn't want to deal with that. You felt bad enough, everything ached... Nothing was going right today.

"Put up with you?" Astarion was baffled, "Darling I look at you as pure perfection. You are who I desire to be with, the one who I will spend the rest of my days. How could I ever 'put up with you'?" He even does the quotes with his hands for dramatic flair, not that you could quite see it. "It is you in which my love knows no bounds. Nothing could keep me away from you, as long as you'll have me. I dont get why you cant just care for yourself a little more? You are certainly deserving of it."

This wasn't the response you thought you'd get at all. Your body shook, wanting to cry from the seering pain and his sentiment. "I am not deserving of this. Of any of your affection. I care for you. You are so. Perfect. And I am far from that. I hurt. Constantly. I know you know this, and that you don't mind. But I don't want this for you. You deserve someone who doesn't just curl up in bed all day the second something hurts a bit more than normal. You deserve someone who will... be there! I can't be there. Not all the time. I'm barely here for myself! I just sit here, ignoring everything my body is telling me because I refuse to get help! I refuse to get help from anyone. But i especially refuse to get help from you. Astarion, I can't handle the guilt."

You sit up, much regretting that choice, but doing it regardless to make a point. You took a dramatic breath, "Why cant i take care of myself, you ask? Because i dont care about myself! I loath every minute i spend in this body. Every day! And i cant fathom why you care about me."

He takes a moment, staring into your eyes as he contemplates what to respond. "Darling. My love. Is that what this is about?" You turn to look away but he took your face to make you look at him once again. "I know you are in pain. And I am here for you. I need you to know this. I dont care about anything else. I just want to be here for you. I know I can't take it away, believe me if I could, I would. But you need to tell me when this happens. If nothing else I can just whisper in your ear. Sweet little nothings to get you to sleep, hm?"

And that he did. Astarion laid you back down again, joining you under the covers. As much as you wanted to put up a fight, your body gave out on you. He was cold. He always was, but it felt nice against your skin. He pulled you into a loose hug, carefully avoiding places you flinched at. You reciprocated the gesture, wrapping your arms around his waist. He was working basically as a elven ice-pack, and you adjusted his hands to wherever the pain was. "Thank you."

"..."

"I'll try. I'll talk to you more." When you were done, he placed a kiss on your forehead as he nuzzled in.

"There is nothing to thank. It's what I'm here for. I love you." He let out an icy breath.

"I love you too."

He smiled, "Now go to sleep, you'll feel better in the morning. I promise. And we will lay right here until you do, I won't let you go."

[greenofhue]

Fond

another short thorfinn fic!! This takes place in the Baltic Sea Arc, the night after the jomsvikings fight/after they were disbanded, I didn't edit it much so beware of any typos!

Thorfinn lies asleep on the bed. Back facing me; his blonde hair merging with the furs, the cushions filled with golden straw. Firey shadows dancing across him; warm and focused. I can't help but be reminded of the dream I keep having. The wood crackles, tumbling over as it cools. He stirrs. Suddenly I am frozen in place. Yet, his movement is slow and sluggish. Slight relief fills me, as he sleeps- chest rising and falling- I think of his ribs. I think of the bruises.

I promised myself not to dwell. But perhaps it was the combination of fatigue and sight of him that caused my mind to fall back to the thought. The dream. We were both running through some field. I could never remember where, but I knew he was taking me somewhere. I keep running after him. Reaching, but he was so fast, and all I could see was the back of his head slipping away into the field. I could still feel that feeling after I woke; that he was going somewhere that doesn't need me. I couldn't help but feel it now even as he slept. It pulses in my heart, this terrible feeling.

I see that glimmer in his eyes all the time. The ocean, the woodlands; distant, eager atonement. His words are simpler, heavier, engraved with more than he lets on.

It constantly made my head spin; emotions I hadn't even registered that I had about him. Fear, frustration. I worry too much and I say too little. I wonder if it is because I fear it won't matter. The sight of him, full of arrows on his knees. He is chasing after something, something that isn't meant to be. Eventually it will fall through; this belief. I can't help but hope that I'm wrong.

"It's stupid." The words are airy, and yet ripped out of me. Full with the weight of something as they leave mouth. "I keep seeing it- this day. That we all loose you."

Impulsively, regretfully I draw my hand out from the warmth of my own furs. Resting it along his spine. Warm; enveloped. And I am following, counting his steady breaths as if he were something that could vanish at any moment. As if these breaths are numbered.

My words continue, being pulled; drawn out of my chest, "You're becoming careless. Wreckless with your life." I pause brows knit together, mulling over my thoughts before I speak. "I can't loose y-"

The furs shift with a weight pushed into my hand as he leans into my touch. Panicked, I remove myself. Falling deeper into my chair.

I felt a slight sense of loss when my hand left his back. I knew that my touch was just purely out of care, but I couldn't help but want more. As my hand left his skin, I felt a little colder. I watch as he stirrs, drifting; leaning into my dissipating warmth, into my now foregone embrace. Yet for that moment, the sudden fear, and frustration felt so small. The feeling of that was a bit intimidating, but familiar all at once.

I low rumble filled the room as he spoke. His voice was soft, filled with conviction. And I was startled by how much truth was hidden behind his words as he spoke.

"I would never leave you guys."

Dread shoots up my spine. Had he heard everything? No. He would've said something else. The realization sets in. 'you guys' - Not 'you.' I mentally punch myself for being so stupid. So vulnerable. Silence englulfs the room in a thick haze. I'm not sure how to respond. Am I over thinking it? Why would I?

Before I can even spit something out, Thorfinn turns to face me. A pained look on his face as he holds his side where the stitches were.

We are close. Close enough that I could make out his features in the dim lighting. His short unruly hair. Scar carved into the surface of his flushed cold cheeks. A face forged by the sea, hardened by years of war; still as soft as ever as he watches me. Eyes tracing the sight of me, and I'm drifting. Loosing any words that I might've had before. If there was ever a time to say my convictions, then it was right now.

For the first time in years, I can't hold his gaze. And for the first in time in years, my heart is pounding out of my chest. The feeling is familiar. Panicked, and the strong urge to run away; Embarrassment?

"Pfah," I choke back compelling laughter.

"What is it?" He squints, I can feel his stare; worn and heavy. Still, all the more focused as he watches me. My head is pounding now with too many things at once.

"I'm, sorry."

"Sorry?" He echos.

"I didn't realize you were awake." My gaze stays locked to the floor boards. There are twice as many cracks in the wood than usual.

"I'm the one who should be sorry."

Almost impulsively, my gaze finds his again. He stares at me, then at the bed, bashful; perhaps even as embarrassed as I am. Hands loosely clasped on his lap.

"I didn't mean to scare you. Or the others."

I turn my gaze to my hands, picking at the skin. I exhale deeply, consciously realizing how quiet it is that I'm not saying anything. And that I probably should say something. My body sinks deeper into the chair.

"I had a plan, I didn't go in there blind." Thorfinn continues, exhaustion evident as his shoulders fall, rousing from the warmth of the bed.

"Yeah, a bad one that almost cost you your life." I bite back a scoff, watching him rise. The skin on my hand turning red from my little habit.

"I know." he whispers. Leveled with me now as he sits on the edge of the bed, facing the chair I'm seated in. I notice how close our knees are.

He watches the cooling embers through his lashes. "I'm sorry."

"You know how it is. Out here." I sniff, nose runny from the seeping cold. "Those people need you." I purposefully leave out myself. Feeling his gaze on me as a result. I ignore it, wiping the hair from my eyes.

Words drift as the silence stretches out. Almost tangible. Obviously waiting for the things left unsaid; the doors left open. Thorfinn, deep in thought- rarely is he ever not in thought- opens his mouth to say something.

But I'm already standing. Air escaping my lungs. Wood creaking beneath my feet as I'm shifting from one foot to the other. Sheepish in all my ways. Ready to leave. Ready to forget this night, to forget what I feel- what I can't seem to face.

"But do you, need me?" Thorfinn breathes. Quick at the sight of me leaving. His words impulsive, yet so carefully chosen. The crack in his voice betraying him.

The question didn't startle me as I thought it would. I know him. I knew it was coming. He's always been blunt like this. Whether that was a good or bad thing.

Yet, it sets me off. "It's not fair." I turn to him, "What would've happened if you had died?" Despite the fear in my voice, the words are harsher than I intend, they ring in my ears.

"I had no intention of dying back there." He stands in defense. Though part of me doesn't even believe him.

"But you almost did!"

And suddenly it feels like we've already had this argument before. I'm fond of the burden he carries, I wish things were different, but they aren't. And just as soon as the argument starts, it ends.

"I know- I know." His words are heavy. Laced with something distant, something far off as they leave his mouth. And I can recognize it just as well as he can. Guilt.

"That doesn't make it anymore right." I barely whisper, sitting back down. Tension and exhaustion strung in all the way to my bones. The ache in my limbs grow, there's never enough time to rest.

"Then I'll make it right." His gaze turns back to his hands. Drifting over the scars there. I find myself watching too. "I promise."

The words ring, he's going somewhere that doesn't need me. I sigh, worn out. Reasoning with him is like trying to tell a goat to fly. "Then start with trying not to get yourself killed all the time." Hiding the desperation in my voice before I speak again, "Please?"

"I promise." He echos. But I know that words don't mean anything. Not here, not with this.

Yet I still cringe as the words leave my own mouth, trying not to believe them. Not to believe that it would make him stay. It's better not to dwell. It's better not to dwell. It's better not to- "I don't not, need you."

Regretfully, I look up to meet his face. managing to catch the subtle twitch in the corner of his lips. Fleeting, there for just a moment. "Never thought I'd actually hear you say something like that." He pauses, impishly. "To my face at least."

Oh- he did hear me. And when his gaze meets mine, I am painfully reminded of how the warmth from his back felt, seeping into my hand. I avert my gaze to the side.

"I meant what I said." I speak into the cold.

"As did I."

"Yeah, about what? Promises you can't keep?" A dismissive scoff escapes my mouth, digging into the wound a bit more for good measure. Part of me doesn't even realize how well I mask these feelings into defensiveness.

"To you and everyone else." He chuckles, trying to make light of the situation. Which turns into a small fit of coughs as he holds his injured chest.

I take the chance to jab at his side, causing him to bat my hand away in pain. Still coughing and laughing. "Yeah, you deserve that." I grin, a breathy chuckle growing in the air.

"Shu-" More coughs, "Shut up." He manages to wheeze out, still fighting away my hand.

Part of me knows this; familiarity. It's so easy to have my guard down around him. To laugh at each other like children. Yet these flaring feelings surprise me again when he catches my wrist. And perhaps it was even just a flicker of his past self. That old cocky arrogance when his lips upturned into a grin. "What? Not funny?"

"No." I frown, distracted. "I completely love seeing you in pain." I put on a devilish grin. Making an effort to pry my wrist out of his hand. "Forgive me?"

"Always." He exhales from his nose, rolling his eyes. Acting annoyed, but clearly not fooling anyone. He enjoys this too. The familiarity.

Yet I couldn't help but notice the way his thumb naturally traced along my wrist, tracing the curve of my skin in a way that was endearing and almost tender. Holding onto me a little longer than he actually should. He hesitates before dropping my wrist. Eyebrows furrowed and turning his gaze away as if forgetting something important. And once again these feelings resurface a tenfold.

Silence falls upon us again, taking over the room. He watches irresolute; brown eyes heavy against the faltering cracklings of flame. It felt as if we were both still processing everything, and he could tell that I wasn't sure what to say as well. It left me uncertain of what was going on between the two of us. We had both uttered some sort of truth for one another. But It's easier to pretend. It's safer this way. It always has been.

"I'm sorry." I breathe. Finding myself saying that a lot recently.

"For what?"

"About what I said before."

"That doesn't matter." He shrugs.

"Why?"

"Because it's the truth, is it not?"

I watch his hands, how his thumb mindlessly traces the curve of his knuckles. I notice how he does that when he's thinking, trying to frame out his words.

"Do you.." He spaces out the words with hesitance, "Feel some way about me?" He finally whispers. And I notice how his breath is shaky; uneven.

The the same feeling from before returns. Increased heart rate, panicked, the strong urge to run. Yet I don't feel like running this time. Reminding myself to breathe. Instead I feel the urge to turn and face him and-

"Yes. I've grown, fond of you." I don't turn my head. Instead I watch the shadows dancing across my lap. Fond, that word sticks in my mouth like a taste you can't get out.

"Fond." Thorfinn breathes out as if he was anticipating something more. But I know him too well to know that something as simple as that is enough for him. And my mind focuses on the whisper of that one word. Repeating over and over. Fond...Fond...Fond...

"Are you surprised?" I whisper. Trying to swallow down this feeling that I did something wrong. That I shouldn't have said anything at all.

"No." He averts his gaze.

"Why?" I can't stop myself from inquiring more, I should stop.

"Because.." he trails off, "I have many reasons." He replies, voice a soft hush as if thinking about something that was pushed far away and buried. Feelings resurfacing.

I'll end this here. Snapping my thoughts together, I stand from my chair. "I should let you rest." I try not to look at him, it's better not to dwell. "The others want to be out of here by daylight. Who knows what Thorkell might ask of you in the morning."

I'm so stupid, so incredibly stupid. I should have never said that. Never said anything at all. And suddenly all these feelings are rising like ocean tides, I feel it in my throat.

His fingers close around my wrist in a swift motion, the suddenness of it catching me off guard. At first, all I registered was the warmth of his touch against my skin. Hands, scarred and callused. A constant reminder of my doubt. Of my fear.

"Why do you avoid me?" His voice, barely above a whisper, breaking through the silence like wind through a wind chime. "You never say what you really mean.."

I'm not brave enough to meet his gaze, yet I picture it. Eyes like deep caverns of brown, like the woodlands; so familiar over the years, etched into the fabric of my every memory.

"You don't want to know how I feel? You'd rather run?" I can feel the way he's searching all the angles of my face.

"It doesn't matter what you feel, or what I feel." Do not dwell.

"Im not stupid." He whispers. "Why did you say it?" His words convict me. "All this time, why now?"

"I barely even said anything!" My voice is high in my ears, as if I were about to start laughing at the stupidity of the situation.

"But you did." Thorfinns voice is firm, laced with so much belief, so much certainty.

"I don't-" I shake my head, I can't think straight. "You're always like this. Saying things and doing things. Stop confusing me." My voice is strained, tired. "It's not easy."

"It's never been easy!" His voice is soft and desperate for me to just listen.

"And it never will be easy. Not now. Especially not with this." I reason, "There's always going to be something." I trail off, guiltily. The burden hangs heavy. Survival, fear, regret. "We aren't like everyone else, you and I aren't made for this," I shake my head. "All I know is now, and surviving now. There's no time for anything else."

"I know that- these things- but It's what made us the same." He breathes, trying to find his words. "All these years-" I feel his hand reach to cup my neck, thumb along my cheek, his voice faltering with the words,

"I've known you- I know you." His is touch so gentle it's almost ghostly. I don't think we've ever been so close before.

Everything moves so fast that I remain rooted in the stillness of the moment. Slowly faltering, loosing the urge to retreat as he draws nearer. His forehead meets mine, a gentle collision.

"Please- stay." Closer, closer. I can feel the warmth of his breath seeping through all my layers of cloth and furs. Closer, and I can feel his heart racing just as much as mine. Closer still, until there is nothing left.

I could feel the warmth of his skin, the slight tremble of his touch as he hesitates for a fraction of a moment. It was fleeting, almost instinctive as his lips brush against mine. A soft pressing; hardly a kiss. Each movement deliberate yet tentative. His breath, warm and steady, mingling with mine. The warmth from his lips linger long after. As if it etching itself into my skin, and I feel lost when we part; breaths mixing with the dark aroma of burning logs, I look at him. Hand still cupping my face, his hair tickling my forehead. He smells like the woods before rain.

Eyes the color of bison hide, watching. Darting from my lips back to me. Flustered as ever, never would I have expected such a bold act from him. Dusty red tints his face, rushing to the tip of his ears.

And he whispers to me, "I've, grown fond of you as well."

[unseededtoast]

Turtle Doves | Joel Miller

Part Five

Chapter Directory

Series Summary: In which two broken souls connect so deeply, that if one should perish, the other would surely die of a broken heart. (slow burn, timeline changes. After TLOU1, before TLOU2, assumed knowledge of infected, uses elements from both show and game)

Series Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, death, and sexual content.

Also cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. Link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted!

The man is wearing a dark green flannel, medium wash jeans, brown boots, and a broken watch. He's got a rifle leaning against the table beside him.

With the back of my hand I wipe sweat off my brow. Unfortunately, I was not placed on graffiti cleanup today. Instead, they're making me dig holes for new fence posts on the QZ border. FEDRA is trying to rebuild what the Fireflies blew up, and digging deep holes for hours on end only makes me more bitter towards the wannabe mercenary group. Manual labor paired with no sleep for the past two days is not working in my favor. I have to constantly fight to not pass out from overexertion. But, I'd be lying if I said I hadn't considered passing out to get out of work.

The hours pass by slowly, but surely. As soon as we get cleared to leave for the day I make a beeline for my apartment, wanting to at least get a shower before I start my activities for the night. I've got a list of things I need to accomplish, and I'm hoping to do so before curfew. However, with the luck I've been having lately, I'm not holding my breath about being back before curfew.

After I've showered and made myself presentable again, I leave my apartment and head towards area four. I'm counting on someone to have reported those poor girls in the alley today, there's just no way nobody found them. And I'm hoping my contact will have some good information for me. As an incentive for information, I brought along a few pills. Information like this is sure to come at a hefty price, and free narcotics usually does the trick.

I locate the familiar apartment and knock on the door. It's not unheard of for regular people to be in area four, but it is unusual. Thankfully, the soldier opens the door and lets me in quickly without asking questions. I stand in the doorway of the rickety apartment and nod to the man standing across from me.

"What are you doing here?" His voice is callous, but curious. We had just delivered to this guy last week and I know he isn't due for another round of pills until next week, so it is weird for me to be here right now. I clear my throat,

"I need information, and I'm hoping you can be of assistance." I start off. The man's eyes narrow,

"What kind of information?" His eyes briefly look me up and down, probably searching for obvious weapons. I move from the doorway to the man's living room, where my voice is less likely to be heard by bystanders.

"I know there have been bodies found. I need to know what FEDRA is doing to find the killer." My voice is stone cold and serious. On our drug runs, I try to stay friendly to the clients, so they keep quiet and keep coming back. But this is something else entirely. The man scratches the back of his neck and takes a few steps towards me.

"How do you know about that?" His voice is equally as cold. I look right into his eyes, trying to pierce his soul so he sees just how serious I am about this.

"I have my sources." I decide against confessing what I really know. He licks his lips and shakes his head,

"Noelle you know I can't tell you shit like this." He sounds frustrated, he has to know something. Otherwise he'd be asking for more elaboration.

"What if I gave you these?" I pull out the small bag of pills from my back pocket. The man's eyes grow wide as he sees them. His gaze flickers between me and the pills.

"What's the catch?" He asks and I shake my head innocently.

"No catch, just information." I say, hoping that the thought of free drugs is enticing enough to get what I need from him. He paces back and forth before he gives in.

"Fine. I'll tell you what I know." He says, eyeballing the pills. I release a breath I hadn't realized I was holding and motion for him to continue on.

"You'll get these after you fess up." I explain my terms more thoroughly to him. Thankfully, he starts talking without argument.

"Three bodies found, ages fourteen to seventeen. Two girls, one boy. All had the same marking on their forehead. All killed brutally. I heard from another guard today that they had concluded the girls had been sexually assaulted before they were killed. Same with the boy." He explains, and my blood boils at his words. It's bad enough these children were ruthlessly killed. But to have been defiled before? It's sickening and awakens a rage in me I've never felt before.

"List of suspects?" My voice is uncharacteristically dark and I take a few steps towards the soldier. He shakes his head,

"I don't have names, nobody has a name. But, I did hear something about a man, or some small group, staying out near the wharf in area five. I guess we've been having perimeter issues around there. It's no surprise, there are a few empty warehouses out there and nobody ever patrols them. My best guess, start there if you want to find who did this. As far as I know, all FEDRA is planning to do is to sweep the warehouses tomorrow and then call it if they don't find anything. They don't want people knowing about this, they're hoping it just stops. They're worried a riot will break out. We don't have the numbers to go investigating this, we still have our orders. My guess is that we're just going to blame the first man who looks at someone the wrong way." He spills more information. My fists clench involuntarily as he says FEDRA is basically trying to sweep this under the rug to stop a potential riot. It seems that good old-fashioned vigilante action is going to be needed after all. Appreciative of his cooperation, I toss the pills over to him.

"Thank you. Those are on the house." I say as I make my way out of his apartment, on a newfound mission.

I feel as if I'm practically flying to area five, near the wharf. I'm familiar with the empty warehouses, there are plenty of transactions I make there. But, I've never noticed any sign of someone living there before. Usually, even just one straggler leaves some sort of evidence. Unless they're dumping their evidence into the water.

I begin searching the warehouses one by one, knowing that this might take a good while to be thorough. I intend to search each warehouse with a fine tooth comb. Those children deserve someone to fight for their justice. And if FEDRA isn't going to get these families justice, then I sure as hell will. I know I would want someone to do the same if it were my child.

The sudden thought of Lucas makes my heart constrict with sadness, and I find myself clutching the necklace that never leaves my neck; a constant reminder of my family who are only with me now in spirit.

The first warehouse proves to be empty, every surface is covered with a thick layer of dust and nothing has been recently disturbed, save for rat droppings here and there. The second warehouse is also empty, but I did find some spent shell casings. Probably remnants of some shootout, but I don't know if the killers had anything to do with it, they seem to be keen on using blades.

With hope, I step into the third, and final, warehouse that sits on the wharf. The creaky old building looks like it could fall over at any second and so I'm careful of where my steps land. I take my flashlight out to look at every minute detail, looking for anything that suggests someone is staying here. I take a deep breath and stand up straight as the faint scent of a fire tinges my nose.

Carefully, I make my way up the warehouse stairs to where a small landing overlooks the rest of the building. To my surprise, there's the remains of a poorly constructed fire. It looks like it's been put out for a while, but was lit recently, as evidenced by the warmth of the wood. The floor surrounding the fire suggests that there were at least two people here, there are two different shoe tracks imprinted in the dusty floor.

I walk over to what looks like a makeshift mattress, made out of broken down cardboard boxes. Crouching down, I examine some scattered papers. There's a hand-drawn map of the QZ and there are circles drawn around areas with accompanying notes. I read the notes scribbled on the edges of the paper and realize I'm looking at the killer's plan. I feel like I could throw up as I read what it written on the paper.

They had singled out their victims, made note of their physical appearances. The notes imply that the killer wanted nothing more than to defile the victims in any way possible. It's almost like the killer, or killers, were playing a game. After I've read everything, I fold the map and tuck it in my back pocket, looking for any other evidence they might have left.

Sticking out of the cardboard boxes is another piece of paper. I turn the paper around in my hand and read what's written on it. It's a checklist, or more of a goal list, and it's clear as day to me now that these killings were a game, and that there are definitely two people in on this. The listed goals include finding suitable victims, seeing who could stab their victim more, who could kill their victim the quickest without a headshot, and who could get their victim to give up the most information.

On the left and right hand side of the paper there are numbers listed, along with words. The numbers correlate to the listed goals, and the words are all about what they learned from their victims. The killers got information about their victims' personal lives, it seems they weren't after much more than that, which I find to be a little odd. Usually infiltrators want to know where the armory is, where the food is kept. But it seems these people may have a steady flow of food and weapons if their focus was on personal information; making it all seem more like a sport. Like they chose this QZ as their hunting ground. I fold this paper and put it in my pocket as well, and search for anything else. However, that seems to be it.

The lack of personal belongings, weapons, food, paired with the lack of additional fire wood tells me that these people left and don't plan on returning here. Perhaps they knew they were going to be tracked down and so they left before anyone could find them. Maybe they were satisfied with the carnage and fear they created, so they just left before they could get caught. If my experience in this world has taught me anything though, it's that people as vile as this will never stop hurting others. It's possible they may even return here, maybe with more people. Maybe this was some sort of test run, to see what they could get away with. It's hard to know for sure.

I fall back so that I'm sitting flat on the floor, and tears make their way down my face. These predators killed those children for sport and just left without any sort of repercussion.Tears of sadness and frustration fall for the children who lost their lives, for the families who lost their dear loved ones. After a few minutes of anguish, my sorrow turns to anger, and I stand to my feet, wiping my face and making my way back to area one.

Each time my foot hits the pavement, the anger intensifies. These people will not get away with what they've done here, they will face consequences. I will hunt them down until I find them, even if that means I must go to the ends of the Earth. In this world, there is no place for evil offenders such as them, it's bad enough the infected threaten our lives everyday. Life is valuable, and those who don't treat it as such must be taken out of the equation for the greater good and the order of civility.

With one last sniffle, I knock on James' apartment door. He doesn't answer after a few minutes, so I knock again, louder this time. I hear a chair scrape against the wooden floor, and heavy footsteps come my way.

"What?" James' gruff voice demands before he even sees its me. His hard exterior immediately softens as he sees me standing there. I let myself in and am surprised to see an unfamiliar man sitting at the table.

The man is wearing a dark green flannel, medium wash jeans, brown boots, and a broken watch. He's got a rifle leaning against the table beside him, which should intimidate me, but in my current state, it doesn't phase me.

The man stares back at me like he's angry I'm here, like I interrupted something. But, I can't seem to find it in myself to care what I interrupted in this moment. My mind is on one track and one track only. James closes the door and stands between me and the unfamiliar man. He clears his throat and for the first time, I think James is uncomfortable. I tear my gaze from the stranger and look to James.

"I need to talk to you." My voice cracks as I speak. James nods and glances back to the other man.

"Can it wait?" He asks and I bite the insides of my cheeks to keep my anger at bay. I cross my arms, not backing down.

"It can't actually." I keep my words vague because this other man doesn't need to know anything about what I'm doing. James lets out a huff of air and runs a hand through his hair. The other man shifts in his seat. The two men exchange a glance, and I can tell it's loaded with some sort of silent communication. James nods his head, as if he's coming to some sort of conclusion.

"What is it then?" James asks, taking me aback. He knows what's going on, and I'm surprised he even suggested that I talk in front of whoever this man is. How do I know this man isn't going to go talking about everything I say here? I glance quickly at the man, who's now leaning forward on the table.

"Really? You know what I'm here about." My voice is tinged with anger and I set my jaw tightly. James takes a seat across from the other man and gives me a reassuring nod.

"It's okay Noelle, he's a friend. And he's leaving the QZ tonight, he won't talk." James promises me. I shift my weight from one foot to the other, struggling with what I should do. But, I don't see any other option but to tell James what my plan is. With an exasperated sigh, I uncross my arms and start talking.

"Fine. I went back out after curfew and found two girls, both killed like the boy was. I let someone else report them, I couldn't be the one to do it. And so later I went to area four and talked to one of our clients to see what's being done about this. He gave me more information about the kids, led me to the wharf in area five. I searched them all and this is what I found." I take the papers out of my pocket and spread them out on the small kitchen table, giving extra space to the unknown man. The two lean in to see what I've presented. I give them time to read the papers, and I see James' face grow pale. The other man's face seems to be set in anger.

"It was more than one." James states as he finishes reading the papers. I nod my head in confirmation.

"I think it was two. There were two sets of prints on the floor. But I think they left the QZ. The firewood was going cold, and there were no possessions left behind." I take the papers back and put them in my pocket. James scrunches his eyebrows together.

"So if they're gone, what's the issue?" His question shocks me.

"What's the issue? Three kids are dead because of them. One of them died in my fucking arms. They're just going to keep doing this. Maybe not here, but to others. I came here to tell you I'm leaving. I'm going to hunt them down." I stare right into James' eyes as I tell him I plan on leaving. Immediately, he shakes his head.

"No, Noelle, you can't leave." He practically begs. I shrug my shoulders,

"Why not James? I do the same damn thing every day here. I do my duties and then I run pills. Over and over again. These children deserve justice, someone has to fight for them. Why not me?" I tell him, feeling only slightly awkward that a stranger is present for this conversation.

"Who's going to keep things going? Theresa won't." He says, only caring about the pill smuggling operation we have going here. I shake my head, he just doesn't get it.

"There are plenty of others who can run pills just as good as me. Get one of them to do it, James. Hell, I'll even give you a list of who gets what and when." I say, more than willing to leave behind the schedule I've got going with our clients. James throws his hands up in frustration.

"So after all these years you're going to leave? Just like that?" He incredulously asks. I'm almost at a loss for words, he's acting like he's never going to see me again.

"I won't be gone forever. Once I kill these bastards I'll be back and it'll be like I never left." I tell him the truth. I do fully intend on coming back here. This shouldn't take me but a few days. James runs a hand through his hair and then focuses his attention on the man across the table from him.

"Man, do me a solid. Go with her." I'm almost offended that James thinks I need a security detail to go with me. Before the man can reply, I interrupt.

"No James, I can handle myself. Have some damn faith." I protest, but James keeps his eyes trained on the other man. Feeling patronized, I turn on my heel and leave James' apartment before either of them can say another word, slamming the door behind me. Sure, it's a little juvenile, but so was James' blatant display of his lack of confidence in me.

I go to my apartment to gather things I'll need, being sure to bring all the ammunition I have, my good hunting knife, and other survival necessities. I was planning on leaving first thing in the morning, but I know James will just come over here and bother me, so I'll leave tonight before he gets the chance to.

It leaves a bad taste in my mouth, how things left off between James and I, but once I return I'm sure we'll be able to patch things up, we always do.

Part Six

[sunnynwanda]

Friends & Enemies

The rain hits hard against their burning skin as Hero rushes down the street. Their clothes are wet, their eyes - even more so, but the rain has nothing to do with the latter. Today was a record day, and they… they were the champion.

How many people can disappoint a person in one day?

The stakes weren't particularly high, given that Hero had two and a half friends in total. The half being their new sidekick, who turned out to be a double agent that had infiltrated with the sole purpose of revealing Hero's identity and making them an easy target for the criminal minds of the city. Turns out, their parents were criminals that Hero had arrested.

They sigh loudly. I didn't even kill them, so what's the drama about?

But that was only the half of the harsh truth. The other two 'friends' of theirs, as Hero found out just now, had their allegiance changed by the mayor. Money can buy anything in this city, the man had claimed with the most disgusting of smiles. Even you can see it.

Hero could. Yet they refused to become a pawn in the game led by the highest officials. What devastated them most was the realisation that all of their hard work had been in vain, always drifted in the wrong direction. They felt like a clown that tried their best to do good but ended up as laughing stock for those using them.

They managed to escape with a gunshot that grazed their skin and a deeper wound to their self-esteem - the second one, despite not being physical hurt significantly more. Everything in their life had been a ruse, leaving them a puppet that never knew of their strings. Not one person had been honest with them, yet they were constantly blamed for not trusting anyone with their identity. Turns out that was the right call after all.

They cross the yard and sneak into their apartment building and up the stairs, careful not to attract attention. Their roommate has a night shift today, so they don't bother shutting the door to their room as they stroll into the bathroom.

Damp clothes discarded on the floor, they return to their bedroom, plopping face down on the bed with a satisfied groan when a familiar voice drags them out of their sleepy thoughts. "Anything wrong?"

Hero could as well fly in front of their roommate - that's how high they jump up. "Why are you home?"

Their voice is panicked despite knowing full well they sneaked in unnoticed.

"Why, I can't be at my own apartment now?" Amusement seeps through their roommate's voice.

"That's not what I meant." Hero props themselves up on their arms to see their interlocutor. "Aren't you working today?"

Hero begs them not to question their reasons for knowing a roommate's schedule so well. They don't. "There was a power shortage in the city, so we closed. Have you seen that shower outside?"

Hero almost growls. Even their bones are cold, muscles stiff as if the damp clothes are still touching their skin. They get up, moving to sit on the couch. Their roommate follows behind, a concerned look touching their eyebrows. "What's up?"

"Nothing." Hero hates the way their voice sounds so whiny. They don't want to talk about this. "I'm tired and cold after walking under that rain."

Their roommate nods, searching for a blanket before returning to their place. "Listen. I might be dense in many aspects, but this ain't one." They claim, watching Hero intently. "What happened to leave you all moody?"

"I'm not moody!" The side eye says everything their roommate doesn't utter. So Hero repeats. "Am. Not." They sigh, letting their head drop back. "I'm disappointed."

"In?" Their roommate is restless, which would be irritating if only they weren't so endearing.

"In everything. And everyone." The room is quiet for a moment. Their breathing and the rattle of the raindrops are the only sounds. "But most of all - in myself."

"Hey, I'm not sure what it is, but don't be too harsh on yourself." Their roommate starts. Hero can barely hear them through the sleep haze. "You're so overworked a mistake was bound to happen."

Hero smiles at the softness in their voice. Maybe the count of their friends wasn't correct after all. Maybe, it should have been three and a half. Except they never talked with their roommate unless it was necessary.

"Is it that bad?" They ask, shifting on the couch to face them while talking.

"To the point that I'm doubting if I'm on the right side." Hero blurts out without thinking.

"Of… what?" They freeze. Both of them. Hero can feel a chill run down their spine. Shit.

"Forget it." Is all they can muster, knowing full well it's not going to satisfy their interrogator.

"Wait, no." The shakiness in their voice should be alarming, Hero thinks. Yet they cannot bring themselves to care. "You can't say something like that and then request me to forget it. What are you talking about?" Hero shakes their head, moving to get up when their roommate places a hand on their forearm. "I have a feeling this isn't about selling ice cream anymore."

Hero knows this is a bad idea. They know they are going to regret it. But the loneliness consumes their entire being, and honestly… can it get any worse at this point? They don't know. What they do know is they want to pour their heart out to the most random person in their life. Well, at least they are still in their life, unlike their so-called friends.

Ah, fuck it. "I'm Hero." They say matter-of-factly. They can sense the breathing pattern of their interlocutor accelerating. "And today, I discovered that everyone I trusted is a traitor."

Their roommate is gaping. Appropriate reaction. They keep chattering to ease the tension.

"I know it's shocking, and I shouldn't have unloaded this on you. I'm sorry." They shake their head, already remorseful. Too big of a secret to share with a neighbour. "Forget I said anything. Let's think I was drunk."

"No, no, no, no. You cannot backtrack from this. Not after this kind of a revelation." They sound panicked as if Hero's identity matters more than it presumably should. They pause, looking blindly into the darkness of the room. "You're Hero? You're Hero! God damn it, my roommate is…"

"And this is exactly why I never told anyone before." Hero interrupts their monologue of thoughts with their own. "Shoulda kept doing that."

"To be honest," their roommate starts, focusing on the conversation. Their mind is reeling, but Hero has no need of knowing that. "You are on the wrong side."

"Huh?" Hero turns, looking at the flushed face of their newfound friend. "Are you a Villain apologist or something?"

"Suppose I am." They admit with a barely concealed smirk. "Can you blame me for it?"

Hero stops. Entirely. Their brain collapses for a long moment before they can restart it.

"Are you alright?" Worry laces their roommate's voice when they touch Hero's arm again.

"Yeah." Hero squeezes out, licking their lips to collect their thoughts. "Apart from realising I was looking for the enemy in the wrong place this whole time." They shake their head, rubbing their eyes with the palms of their hands. "They're not the evil one, are they? Villain."

"Well, no? I like to call them a villain with a cause." The claim makes Hero chuckle.

"That's quite fitting." They accept, wondering what their nickname would be. A loser with no brain? Their roommate offers them a crooked smile before getting up. Dazed, Hero doesn't realize they are thinking out loud when they say. "The whole leather aesthetic makes more sense now."

"Hey, what's wrong with my aesthetic?" The words roll off their lips before they can stop them. They bite their tongue, but it's too late.

"What did you just say?" Hero is staring at them with the widest eyes they have ever seen on a human.

They know they fucked up. Doesn't mean they cannot try to salvage the situation. In the dumbest way possible. "N-nothing."

Shit. Shit. Shit.

"Ooh, you can't backtrack from this one." The excitement of the revelation tingles their fingertips. And then it dawns on Hero. "Damn. You're my hot archnemesis? You?! Out of everyone?!"

"Excuse me, I'm your what?" Villain's voice reaches an uncomfortably high pitch on the last word, scratching the back of their throat. Hero beams at how flustered Villain is by their unintended confession.

"I do think I was on the wrong side." They admit, standing up to face their nemesis without any masks in the way. "Not anymore."

"I'm still not over the fact you called me hot, but…" Villain starts. They laugh when Hero rolls their eyes at that. "Want some hot chocolate?"

"By all means, yes!" Hero sits by the bar of their shared kitchen, watching their foe-turned-friend fuss around, making hot chocolate with adorable smiley marshmallows. They still feel like an idiot for being blind all along. But, the disappointment eating at them dissipates with every little gulp.

Sometimes what the city needs is not a noble hero to save the day. Sometimes it's a villain with a cause, ready to dirty their hands to fix the problem at the root. Once and for all. And Hero? Hero has chosen their side.

Masterlist

[lanawinterscigarettes]

Hey bestie! Oh my god I saw you’re taking requests for Wednesday, sooo I was wondering if you could write a Wednesday x reader where r is enid’s sibling, maybe they keep ‘bothering’ wednesday with smalltalk, chatting, etc (basically, they’re down bad but even they don’t know it) until enid basically tells them they need to ask her out or she’ll tell Wednesday for them. Thank you so so much, sorry if this sounds insane it’s literally 1 am and I need sleep. Anyway, have a fabulous day!

The way I literally ran to my drafts so I could get started working on this asap- you always have such good ideas, thank you for sending this in ily ❣❣

The Other Sinclair (Wednesday Addams x reader)

Warnings: reader is a huge simp, Enid is the perfect wingman (wingwolf? Is that even a thing?), Wednesday is oddly sentimental, basically you're all just huge dorks

As soon as Wednesday found out Enid had a sibling she knew there was no way she'd ever get peace again.

To say you were bothersome was an understatement. Often times Wednesday wished you and your sister weren't so close, because maybe then you wouldn't constantly be hanging around when it was least welcomed (which, Wednesday being Wednesday, was pretty much all the time).

You would visit her every single day, bringing your constant cheerfulness with you as though it was the only thing keeping you alive. Wednesday saw it to be quite the opposite; the mere thought of you and your never fading smile was enough to make her hair stand on end while she broke out in a cold sweat, and not in a good way.

The only times she got any peace was when Enid decided to leave and visit you in your room instead. In fact, it was during one of those very visits that she spoke to you about something you'd been cleverly hiding for quite some time: the crush you had on Wednesday. Although if we're being completely honest here, you clearly didn't hide it as well as you thought if Enid knew about it.

"Come on, you have to tell her!" Enid insisted, trying her best to convince you.

"There's no way that's ever going to happen," you replied, crossing your arms over your chest. "Wednesday actively dislikes everyone, and I'm no different from the rest of them."

"I simply refuse to believe that's true. I mean, come on, the way she looks at you-"

"-is with the same glare that she gives everyone else. Face it, Enid, Wednesday wants nothing to do with me."

"If she wanted nothing to do with you, then she would have verbally eviscerated you a long time ago. I know that's what she did to me," Enid mumbled under her breath. "You'll never know until you ask. Plus, if you don't fess up and admit your feelings, I'm just gonna go ahead and tell her myself, so..."

"Wha-? Enid, you can't do that!" You all but screech, grabbing ahold of her shoulders in an effort to both convince her otherwise and ground yourself.

"Look, I don't want it to have to come to that, but I will if I have to. Now, promise me you'll talk to Wednesday as soon as we get back." Enid raised her eyebrows at you, almost in a threatening manner.

"Okay, fine," you conceded, letting go of her. "I'll give it a shot."

"Wonderful!" Your sister joyfully cried out, clapping her hands together swiftly while jumping up and down. "Now, let's work on what you're going to say."

Meanwhile, back in Ophelia Hall, Wednesday was experiencing an intense session of writer's block. As much as she wanted to be writing, she couldn't help but wonder what you were doing instead.

She didn't understand it; the hold you had on her was unnatural, but not necessarily uninviting. She often found herself thinking about the way you laughed whenever Enid told one of her horrible jokes, and how you always greeted Thing whenever you arrived.

Not to mention you always asked how her day was, even if you knew the answer was going to be something along the lines of 'pure torture'. In fact, any time you bumped into her on Nevermore's campus you actually looked happy to see her, and were never polite simply for the sake of it.

Wednesday was beginning to feel things she'd never felt before, and it made her quite unsure of herself. And if there was one thing Wednesday hated, it was being unsure of herself.

Could it be... was this love?

She'd heard other people talk about it- how their hands would get abnormally sweaty and they'd begin to suffer from heart palpitations- but she'd never felt it first hand, and it was a rather strange feeling that was quite difficult for her to place as she had never experienced it before.

Even after having it described to her by her parents about how they fell in love at a young age multiple times, she still had no idea just how it happened and what it felt like. In fact, if anything, having heard of Morticia and Gomez's own romantic romps from their youth did nothing but further confirm what Wednesday was quite certain of: falling in love was nothing but a gigantic waste of time.

And yet, there she was; she could practically feel her pulse quicken by the second at the mere thought of you.

Just then, the door opened, and in skipped Enid, with you in tow. You weren't feeling like your usual cheery self at that moment, and you were certain you couldn't be looking like it either.

"Heya, Wednesday!" Enid delightfully greeted the blank faced girl, who's attention was focused solely on you instead. "My dear sibling here has something they'd like to say to you."

She nudged you with her elbow and gestured towards Wednesday. "Well, go on," she whispered.

The braided brunette raised her eyebrow at your sudden shyness. It usually took her ages to get you to shut up, so this complete 180 in attitude was a shock.

"Um..." you started rather awkwardly. "Well, you see, I- I've liked you for quite some time now, and was just wondering if... if maybe you'd like to accompany me to The Weathervane? This weekend, perhaps?" You asked, your voice barely above a whisper. "I- I completely understand if it's a no, I mean, it is on such short notice-"

"Yes," Wednesday stated as soon as she noticed the hesitation begin to creep through your voice. "I'd like that."

"I- really?" You couldn't hide your excitement at her response, not that you wanted to.

"Of course. If I didn't, I would have said so," she replied curtly. "I expect you to pick me up at 3 pm sharp, and don't be late."

"I- okay," you immediately agreed, a little stunned by her answer. "I'll see you then."

She nodded swiftly before turning her attention back to her typewriter. You turned around to see Enid standing there with the biggest grin you'd ever seen on her, her arms opened wide.

You let her pull you in for a tight hug, embracing her happily. "I can't believe that worked! I mean, she said yes! She actually said yes! We're finally going out, and it's gonna happen this Saturday!"

"I know! I'm so happy for you!" Enid squealed, wrapping her arms around you even tighter. Because you were so preoccupied with your own excitement, you both failed to notice the faintest smirk that had crept its way onto Wednesday's face.

Main masterlist | Wednesday masterlist | wanna be added to my taglist?

🏷 taglist: @anxiously-sad @iloveentrapta @ghot-girl @gilmore-angel @your-next-daydream @alexxavicry

[i-belong-in-a-retirement-home]

Ok so originally this was supposed to be a little buggy x reader imagine but like, Good Luck Babe coded. Then it turned into a 1400 word monstrosity I typed on my phone at 2 am while listening to Sub Urban and Breaking Benjamin.

Enjoy, please, so I can justify the pain in my thumbs and the severe lack of sleep.

There's some mentions of drinking, but that's really it? Oh and angst, fairly angst.

Like, Reader spent her early twenties with Buggy, gave her everything to him

Like, attached at the hip, not technically together, but like. So in love.

Would refuse to admit she loved him, but spent every waking (and sleeping) moment together

So in love with the wild life he lived. They lived. Together.

Holding the glasses while he poured shots. Pouring the gasoline while he threw the match. Staying up to see the sunrise. Getting so drunk that they had to hold each other to stay standing. Running wildly through ports. Ducking gunshots. Near death experiences only survived because they worked together.

But the long nights start getting to her. She realizes she can't maintain the wildness for her whole life. And he shows no signs of stopping.

Gets herself a steady job. Gives her hand to a merchant. Gets a nice cushy home. Everything at her beck and call.

But every night, she stands out on the balcony. Feeling the wind race through her hair. Cold nipping at her skin. A fresh seabreeze begging her to return. It feels wild and free, like him.

Sometimes he lands in her town. Surfacing just for a moment. And when she hears, her heart races, desperate for one more hit.

She remained unflinching for many years. Certain that if she never acknowledged the tribulations within her, that she would move on. She wouldn't need him. After some time.

But the longing breaks her. She can't admit it, but she was wrong. Can't admit that life was better when she was on the run. When she didn't know if she would wake in the morning.

When his arms were the only things between her and certain death. When he would hold her close as they fled crime scene upon crime scene. Bounties higher and higher.

It was more exhilarating. It kept her blood pumping. Her heart pounding. Her lungs inhaling. Just staying alive to see that wild grin on his face, when he would grace her with his focus.

Her heart aches. So sometimes, when she longs so deeply that she can barely breathe, she'll pull a cloak on. Slipping past her merchant in the dead of night. Past the gates of her house on the hill. And she'll descend upon the town.

Find the bar with the loudest shouting, and pull up a chair. There he is, standing on a table, regaling the crowd with his most recent escapades. Some cheer, while most remain wide-eyed, terrified of his crimes. How could this clown be so terrible.

But she remembers. He does it because he wants, no, needs, to be remembered. Begging for an audience to the unyielding tsunami of history.

You have to be just as catastrophic, if you want history to shine a light. That's what he would say. In the darkness of the shared room. Even basking in her love, a endless limelight, he still couldn't get enough. He needed to prove he deserved to be remembered by everyone. Not just her.

Funnily enough, he would always be remembered. Should she ever bare a child, they would know of him. They would hear endless tales of the flashy fool, the genius jester. His history would stain every generation of her family. She would make sure of that.

But one family singing his praises wouldn't be enough. He needed more and she knew that rotten truth through and through.

She never needed for anything with him. Mind it, ill-begotten goods were what she received. But the morals weren't the issue. He just couldn't understand that he was enough. Just the way he was. He constantly gave her more, bathed her in riches. Every member of his crew wanted not. But their praises weren't enough. They weren't nearly enough for him.

He had made it clear that one day, he would move on. That he would be the pirate king, everyone would bow to him and him alone. He would have the perfect ship, the perfect crew, and the perfect woman beside him.

But his gifts, praises, and good-times had blinded her. He had always been clear about his dreams. It had just taken her too long to wise up to what they meant.

Those memories made her weep. Feelings so cleanly muzzled and chained within her breaking loose and wreaking havoc. So she would pull her hood further down, to hide the misting in her eyes and once again leave him.

For all it's impossibility, she needs him desperately. Her heart beats out of its cage. Knowing the perfect comfort was only yards away. Beating it's way out of her chest, tearing away. Begging for a reprieve from its endless torment. Even if it meant laying down her life.

Maybe a single word, a single drink, a single conversation, a single night would be enough. She could finally move on. But no. It wouldn't be enough and she knew it.

He could completely enrapture her. That glow, the warmth of basking in his presence was euphoric. And she would never walk away again.

But he would never give her all of him. He would pursue his glory, his kingship. And she would one day be left with nothing but the sunlight he bathed her in. And she would be sucked dry, left with nothing. Gave him all of her, but receiving so little in return.

So she stays there. Just a block away, tears drying on her cheeks, laying in the street. People bumble past, heading home from the bars. Assuming that she simply did not make it that far. Too drunk to function.

If only they knew. If only she knew. If she could regain control. The feelings in her chest, in her gut, poured down her face. They must be denied completely and totally. Or else the regret would ruin her. Thrashing about, bruising her ribs and exploding through her sternum. So it was restrained to bitter wimpers.

She would go home, face bright red and glistening from her tears. She would slink into her shared room, where her merchant slept so peacefully. Naive to the ways she betrayed him. It's not like he was much better though. She knew about the little tart he kept on his ship. Hardly mattered though. No need to blow up her life.

For all the ways it might satisfy her need for thrill. She wouldn't do it. Would be too difficult to pick up the pieces.

No guarantee that he would take her back. And besides, she didn't want the world like he did. She just wanted him. He hadn't understood that.

The world would never truly understand her, but he did. He knew who she was. Its easy to know your own flesh. An extension of himself walking away from him. But he couldn't command this one to come back.

For all his talk of taking the world, it always included her by his side. He wouldn't have admitted it then, nor now, but he missed her just as deeply. He was unsatisfied with his fame. The world's a stage, yes. But the limelight is freezing, and the stage is far too big for him alone. But he couldn't admit that, it would mean that she was right to leave. His pursuits were hollow and he gave up everything for them.

She was the closest to heaven he had been.

He knew she lived there in the port city. It was the only reason he risked getting caught so often. Just to catch a glimpse of her. The detached limb he never got back. But he never did, so he'd find a quiet spot, away from prying eyes, and just watch. Stare up at that house on the hill till the sun came up. Somber and sterile as it was, at least he knew she was safe. Couldn't be hurt there.

Maybe she missed him sometimes? Maybe she still thought about him. But surely after all these years she had moved on. She had a good life. A man who loved her. Everything she could ever want. What could he offer that the merchant couldn't.

Nothing.

He was just some no good pirate captain with a mediocre crew. He only stumbled into good luck, cruel mistress she was. Not worth dragging a good woman down with him. No, she deserved the world, and every beauty it held. He couldn't give her that, so he didn't deserve her.

[insomniacsystem]

Azrael and Ashton pre and post bein held as POWs by Barkov aka when they meet again after Ash fakes his death and they both join SC.

As always at this point Bases by: @mellon-soup

It's been ages since I wrote anything but take a lil writing snippet for the second picture↓

Let's just say Azrael had been having a rough few days; his desk is chock-full of paperwork that he's slowly ending up more and more behind on as even more piles up, and his rookies keep causing damn issues left and right. And worst of all, it was November, the shittiest damn month Azrael could think of. At least when it comes To his mental health that is. And, of course, as always, he hadn't told anyone about it. And he's pretty sure only Graves, Vance and a few other higher-ups are really the only ones who'd know why as they likely would have access to what the SAS would actually give them in terms of the documents detailing his capture because, of course, their stupid secrets mattered more than his superiors being informed…

Azrael sighed, carrying his coffee down to his office, his eyes half-lidded, looking as if he'd barely slept yet again, but that was normal this time of year. They were already a day into the anniversary of his capture, the second day out of a week and a half. It's not exactly surprising he hadn't slept despite the scoldings he'd always get from everyone. But really, I mean, how was he supposed to sleep with his nightmares waking him up constantly? He'd rather just start work at 3 am like he is now than focus on the lingering sensations he feels over his skin. He shakes his head, trying to shake away the thoughts, yelping as he runs into another Shadow, his hot coffee running down his clothes as his mug shatters on the floor, a pained hiss escaping his throat at the burning sensation.

“Christ-! Do you mind being a bit more-” Azrael's heart stops in his chest the moment his eyes meet an eerily familiar shade of green still having to look up at the much taller redhead just like he used to. For a moment, Azrael is completely and utterly convinced he's losing his mind. He hadn't properly slept in 24 hours, and suddenly, he was literally running into long-dead men.

The lieutenant takes a few shakey steps back almost stumbling as he stares at Ashton the older, very different looking Ashton his stupid fucking ex-fiance who was supposed to be dead… and here he was, His hair now straightened out no longer in the firey red natural curls he remembered.. God he even has the piercings he'd constantly ranted about wanting but that he'd always too scared to get due to his mother and her controlling religious abuse… he wasn't dead… Ash. wasn't. dead.

“You- you… fuck no- god, you're kidding me. You're actually fucking with me right now! right…?” Azrael forces out trying desperately to hide the shaking of his voice behind his frustration, his breathing picking up before he can even notice it.

“Shit-! Rhys sweetheart I can explain alright- fuck you weren't supposed to be here-” Ashton stammers out practically stumbling over himself as he tries to explain and apologize immediately attempting to pull Azrael into a hug, something that probably would have worked 10 fucking years ago but, not now not anymore, hell Azrael could barely place the last time he let someone hug him by now.

Azrael pushes his gloved hand against Ashton's chest stopping the taller man in his tracks, an unrelenting cold glare in his eyes as he stares up at the man he used to love ~~the man he still loves~~. A glare Azrael knows damn well he doesn't actually mean he can't actually hate Ash not even now…

“Don't. Touch. Me… And It's Azrael nobody calls me Rhys anymore, and I don't want you to either. now get wherever the hell you're going-” Azrael has to Pause, glancing at Ash’s dog tags and finding his rank. “Get wherever the hell you're going, Sergeant, and fast…” The lieutenant forces the words out as a growl, desperately trying to hide the fact he felt like breaking down.

The smaller man pushes past Ash harshly, walking towards his office as fast as he can manage inconspicuously, his hands clenching and unclenching tightly as he walks slamming his office door shut behind him and locking it tightly. Finally, he lets himself sink to the ground with a choked sob, still fighting back his tears even now that he's alone, burying his face in his knees and just trying to breathe…

[theship-thewalrus]

waking up to you

ser harwin strong x gender netural!reader

what mornings are like with your husband Harwin Strong

word count: 700 words reading time: about 4 minutes warnings: n/a

Some days you felt like the luckiest person in all of Westeros, not because you had wealth or power. But because you had love. Love is something so powerful that can transverse language and space. Love was not something many people got to experience, even fewer people got to marry the person they loved. But you had found love in the form of Harwin Strong, a man that despite his intimidating stature and a lethal nickname was soft and caring. Many times putting you and your needs above everything else in the world.

Amongst all the other people in the world, you had caught his eye and captured his heart. You were beyond surprised when he confessed his love to you. Declaring how he could not stand seeing you with anyone else. How he could not be with anyone but you, because you were constantly on his mind no matter the time of day or what he did to try and stop it. Not long after the pair of you married, proving your love to one another in the eyes of the gods and the world.

The sunlight peaking through your bedroom window lulled you to wake, the light and increasing heat on your skin causing you discomfort. A groan leaves your lips as you turn around, eyes still closed in the hopes you are able to capture just a few more moments of sleep. You didn't expect to hear a deep chuckle from in front of you, causing you to crack your eyes open, just slightly, to see the source of it. A dishevelled Harwin lay in front of you, the man prompted up on his side slightly, soft eyes already looking at you with a smile on his face. Your expression begins to mirror his before you shuffled closer to him, burying your face into his chest, arms and legs wrapping around him as though you were a small sloth.

"Good morning, my love." Harwin's voice was deep and gruff, still full of sleep. Leaning down slightly he placed a kiss on top of your head, causing your smile to widen. "Good morning, my knight," comes your soft reply, moving your head from his chest slightly to come to look up at him. Normally he would be gone, the duties of the Captain of the Gold Cloaks were large and around the clock. But the times he was able to stay with you in the morning, basking in the first light of the day, was something you truly cherished.

"You're here, I thought you would have been gone by now," you said softly, though it was clear you were happy he was here. It was lonely in the mornings at times, eating breakfast and other meals by yourself. But you understood why it had to be that way at times, but it did not stop the loneliness. "Of course, I can't leave you alone all the time." he jests softly, a hand coming from under the blanket to cup your cheek. Leaning into his touch you hum happily, glad you both could have a moment like this. Simply basking in each other's presence, hoping to commit this memory to look back on in times of loneliness.

"The day awaits my love." his voice breaks the small moment, but you were not upset in the slightest. Although a small, playful frown forms on your face, at the mere thought of having to leave this little utopia. The world was cold and cruel but here with him in the warmth of your bed the world was good and safe. Flipping over and away from him you speak to him "I don't wish to see the world just yet. I just want to stay here with you." Humming slightly you feel Harwin shuffle closer to you, before his arms warp around you, pulling you closer. You feel his warm breath on the exposed skin of your ear causing goosebumps to appear all over your body. Giggling softly you shuffle around in his arms, leaning up slightly to kiss him. Breaking a part he grinned a little, his grip on you tightening and hands roaming your body he spoke "I am sure we can stay together for a bit longer."

[yippee-boi09]

Am I autistic?

I'm diagnosed (at age 4) with ADHD, and I really think I'm autistic, but since I have ADHD, my (possible) experience with autism seems there but not there...? I just need to share my experience and see what others think. (And yes, I'll be getting an autism diagnoses in a few months dw)

My sensory issues

I can't stand how sensitive my hearing is. I like blasting heavy metal and vocal kid (and yfm) thought my ear buds because I hate full headphones and how they heat up my ears and squeeze my ears and earrings. But when I'm in a crowd I just want it to be quiet simply because I hate how unpredictable people are. But with my ear buds in the noise feels better. Not to mention my odd taste preference, I can't stand the feeling of chicken having a rough, grainy texture (best I could describe it) but I like it when steak feels that way, I can handle cow turned into a medium steak but I CANNOT stand ground beef, or burger meat, UNLESS it's done in a hyper specific way. I like raw seafood the most, all seafood tastes good to me, especially oysters, I ESPECIALLY enjoy slimy textures like pasta and cooked noodles, I love grease and soft foods. If it's mushy and soft I'll most likely enjoy it UNLESS it's TOO mushy or soft. Not as specific as my touch sensitivity... I hate the bumpy feeling of bathroom carpets but I'm find with floor bedroom sorta carpet, I LOOOVE super soft carpets, like fluffy and poofy things. But I ABSOLUTELY cannot stand cold, hard floors. Wood, marble, plaque floors all make my skin tingle (in a bad way) and it feels so awful I have to wear something on my feet almost EVERYWHERE I go... And my sight isn't as sensitive as my other senses, but I still have sensory issues with my sight, like how I like bright colors and flashy things with lots of colors but it can't be too flashy or else I get a migrane. I do prefer things that don't flash though, even if it looks cool I prefer if I didn't strain my eyes, and I can't stand the sun (I overheat easily) because it burns, it makes me squint my eyes, and I prefer the cold MUCH over the heat. But when I'm sleeping I have a million blankets with the fan blasting to keep my temperature balanced.

Social skills(???)

(Need to mention that I'm an ambivert)

I can't control how loud my voice is whenever I talk, I talk at a normal volume and suddenly I'm too loud, I try talking quietly and suddenly I'm too quiet. Whenever I talk to people I start speaking and then they start speaking over me and idk why they're mad at me for going "and the- and- and- and-" because they stop talking by then start talking again (it seems so weird, if you're not done talking then don't stop lol *my opinion*) I also have a lot of charisma, I can get people to rant about their whole life in seconds but I don't understand how they can keep it up, I end up losing breath or my mouth goes dry SO quickly. And even after scripting out convos in my mind I end up fucking it all up by stuttering or needing a drink because by others logic, "WhEn I pAuSe It MeAnS i'M dOnE tAlKiNg!" And then I either have to stop them or go back and answer them and then go back to my scripted rant, and then they twist the convo to how focused I am on things and I end up misinterpreting things all the time, I end up accidentally addressing things too early which makes me look weird, and then I address things on time but in the wrong way. And afterwords for weeks, even months or years I think about how much better the convo could've gone... Most of my friends consider me easy to talk to, others just find me quirky. I constantly stress over how to talk to specific people and whether or not they find me talking annoying. One thing I will say is whenever I'm talking to someone I'll either go occupied playing video game (i.e. me playing sonic frontiers hard mode final trial while my transfemme friend vents about her dysphoria) or I'll be browsing social media or I'll be messing around with something physical in my hands while looking away from them entirely but still listening. I've learned how to fake eye contact but I only make eye contact abruptly with people I trust the most but I still fucking hate it I HATE IT I HATE IT I HATE IT. I can almost never tell what someone is feeling but I'm very perceptive to the point where I can guess how someone feels about this specific thing or that specific thing and it's so weird. I can understand in an instant that this person pisses you off because to ME it's kinda obvious, but it'll take me AGES to understand a basic explanation of a fear of getting disease which ends up backfiring and making me afraid to go swimming. Another problem I face is taking things Illiterately or TOO literate. If you told me this spider kills people from touch and bring it close to my face I'd laugh at you and coo at the spider (BECAUSE THEY'RE SO CUTE!!! (๑ > ᴗ < ๑)°ᡣ𐭩 . ° . !!) but if you said something sarcastic or jokingly in a serious convo I'd take it as a serious matter. (For example, I was once in trouble and told to "Count the bumps of the ceiling" which was apparently a joke most people threw around apparently??? Anyways, I counted 307 before I was stopped and told it wasn't serious) I cannot tell from the tone of someone's voice whether or not they're joking. (Unless it's a joke I'll get, like a depression or anxiety joke about trauma, or maybe a meme like "You know what that mean, FISH 𓆛") It's why people consider me dense, or kinda "empty headed" DESPITE THE HIVE IN MY MIND TALKING ABOUT EVERY DETAIL IN THE ROOM AND WHAT I NEED TO DO AND FIX BECAUSE I'M STUCK IN A CONVO WITH SOMEONE AND I WANNA GET A COOKIE BUT MY MIND IS GOING OFF ABOUT HOW I NEED TO WATCH THIS OR THAT VIDEO AND FIX MY BED BEFIRE I GO TO SLEEP AUAGAHAGIDHDJD

Stims and others

I have pretty normal Stims and other weird ones, more personal experiences too. I'll unconsciously rock back and forth, flap my arms and hands, bounce my legs, take my feet, and grasp my hands over and over. I have this Stims I'll do where I'll quietly make whistle noises and very high pitch whimpers with my throat, I'll crack my arms and fingers a LOT, since my family's under the belief neurodivergency doesn't exist and think fidgeting toys are bad and distracting. I'm also experienced with overstimulation and meltdowns and hiding them (I grew in a home where hiding your emotions meant you wouldn't get hurt) and a lot of people around me don't believe that I was diagnosed with ADHD at a young age and act as if my experience as a neurodiverse individual is something everyone experiences or I'm faking it for attention and it really makes me feel like I'm taking it too far getting a diagnoses for autism, and I wanted to get diagnosed autism/ADHD people's opinions on my experience and if I really could have autism. (This was also me venting about my neurodivergency and the struggles I have with mental health as someone with a family who believes the terms "ADD, ADHD, and autism" were made up to charge people for medications they DoN't NeEd!")

[b1t5andpi3c3s]

Paper Rings

Word Count: 1087 Summary: the important parts of your life with James. Paper Rings by Taylor Swift Warnings: none, mention of drugs/alcohol Pairing: James Potter x Reader Requested: I have been gone a long, long time ..., and I can't promise a definite return, but I am back for this fic at least ...

The moon is high Like your friends were the night we first met  Went home and tried to stalk you on the internet  Now I’ve read all of the books beside your bed 

James had been one of the best Chasers for the Gryffindor Team that Hogwarts had seen in a long time. And he knew it. Constantly showing off to any girl that breathed in his direction, but he only seemed to grant one with his attention. Lily Evans. 

She was perfect. Flaming red hair; bright emerald eyes; and a brilliant mind to boot. Everyone with eyes wanted her.

Now, you too were brilliant, you had amazing friends - you were even friends with Lily herself - but your only flaw (according to yourself anyway),was that you were in love with James Potter. A bully, a prankster. 

Now, however, he was merely a dazed drunk. Standing in the middle of the Gryffindor Common Room with the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, surrounded by a chanting crowd. In his hand was another Butterbeer, Sirius had been passing them to him since he had stumbled into the Common Room.

Remus and Peter, his other two friends, were off in a corner, they were quieter than the other two, and mainly chose to stay out of the chaos that followed James and Sirius, even if Remus was the brains behind a lot of the pranks they did.  

You too were sitting off in a corner, avoiding the crowd, staring at the back of James’ head with despair. When suddenly a presence to your left broke you from your internal self pity, that, and the unrecognisable stink that appeared. 

“Hey.” Looking into Remus’ bloodshot eyes immediately gave away what was wrong with him. 

“Really?” “Sirius bought s’me,” his words slurred together. Looking over your friend’s shoulder, you spotted Peter in a similar state, with a grinning Sirius stabilising him as he swayed. “I thought you hated the stuff?” “Well, I’m not sure anym’ore,” he mumbled. Sucking in a deep breath, he stared into your eyes with an intensity you were unfamiliar with, “may- maybe, a little.” “Rem?” “I want to go to bed,” he sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly, slumping into the seat next to you. 

Staring down at the slumped figure of Remus, who was quickly falling asleep in that position. You tore your attention to where you had last seen Sirius and Peter, only to find them both gone. Figuring that Sirius had dragged Peter to their dorm room, you looked across to where you could hear James. 

“James!” Yelling over the noise was difficult, your voice basically drowned out by the happy cheers. Thankfully, he must have just heard your yell, as you could see his eyes trail over everyone before landing on you and Remus.

Smiling at the girl he was talking up, he hurried over to you, staring down at the now sleeping Remus. Sending you a confused look, he poked his friend’s shoulder - it must have been hard as Remus’ head lolled to the side, however he did not stir. 

“Sirius and his ‘treats’.” “Well, help me get him up to our dorm.” 

Lugging a basically full grown man up the tight, twisting stairs of Gryffindor tower with James and you on either side was more difficult than you had originally thought when you proposed the idea. 

“Thanks.” He whispered standing opposite you. Peter, Sirius and Remus fast asleep in their beds, snoring loudly making you wonder how any of them slept soundly. “No problem,” you smiled back. 

The wine is cold Like the shoulder that I gave you in the streetCat and mouse for a month or two or threeNow I wake up in the night and watch you breathe

You had spent many sleepless nights worrying, now they all appeared worth it. The countless afternoons crying over the feeling of worthlessness seemed silly compared to this moment in time. 

His arms were around your waist, tightening and relaxing sporadically, you smiled at the feeling. The dark room not betraying the adoring look in your eyes. 

You felt your boyfriend snuggle closer to your back, blowing out a puff of air into the back of your neck. His chest rising and falling with each breath he drew. 

“James.” Your whisper barely disturbed the air, but it earned a tired murmur from the man next to you. “I love you.”

The only response you got was a snore, but you didn’t mind. It wasn’t like you hadn’t said those 3 words to each other before. 

(Ayy) Kiss me once 'cause you know I had a long night (oh) Kiss me twice 'cause it's gonna be alright (uh) Three times 'cause I've waited my whole life (one, two, one, two, three, four)

“I love you.” It was mumbled into your neck. Both of you were laid down on a picnic blanket in a park not far from your shared home. Sirius, Remus and Peter were also there, but they were presently messing around with the football that James had bought with you. 

“I know,” you giggled, fighting against James as he moved to tickle you. 

“No, I mean it,” he sighed deeply, leaning on his side so he was slightly hovering over you. “I love you, and I don’t want to spend the rest of my life without you.” 

The seriousness in his voice was what worried you in that moment, you can’t remember a time when James had ever been so serious as he was now. Even when arguing, there had always been a teasing lilt. 

“Will you marry me?”

I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings Uh-huh, that's right Darling, you're the one I want, and I hate accidents, except when we went from friends to this Uh-huh, that's right Darling, you're the one I want In paper rings, in picture frames, in dirty dreams Oh, you're the one I want

You now stood, donned in white, in front of all your friends and family. James in front of you, glasses pushed up on his nose as he stared at you in adornment. 

You had laughed at the red blush that spread across his cheeks when Sirius had mumbled to close his mouth. 

When you got to exchanging your vows, you found yourself struggling to withhold the tears from falling as you gazed at your fiance. You both had chosen to write your own, and as his words gracefully fell from his smiling lips, you prayed that you didn't blunder when it got to you. 

“I like shiny things, but I would marry you with paper rings …”