#holy shit this article is devastating

[charliejaneanders]

The United States has always been a terrible place to be sick and disabled. Ableism is baked into our myths of bootstrapping and self-reliance, in which health is virtue and illness is degeneracy. It is long past time for a bedrock shift, for all of us.

Long covid has derailed my life. Make no mistake: It could yours, too.

[hana-no-seiiki]

HELLO??? WHY IS NO ONE TALKING ABOUT THIS MASTERPIECE??? especially the last line holy shit im scared yet excited at the same time 😬😬

YANDERE! AQUAMARINE HOSHINO x REINCARNATED! READER x YANDERE! RUBY

Guess I gotta do a full fic about it huh. Here we go. Link to previous part in the ask!

tw/cw: yandere themes, gaslight tactics courtesy of aqua, girlkeep tactics courtesy of ruby, girlboss [y/n]. mentions of suicide. reader is gn but gets described as beautiful.

is this really a yandere fic when both the twins are canonically insane tho-

IT WAS SAID THAT DURING THE NIGHT OF YOUR BIRTH THE SUN WAS AT ITS HIGHEST POINT AND FULLEST BLOOM.

Its rays buried humanity under a blanket of heat and devastation. Fortunetellers would wax on and on of the disasters you would soon bring upon the world.

That was your experience in your first life.

Many could only wish of being born to a worldwide pop-star, but to you it was a reality. You resented those that vied for your place. How could they romanticize such a life when every single day was torture for you. Some predicted you to be world-class singer before your first cry. People knew you before you could even speak to them. Everyone already idolized you, expected you to do great things before you’d even learn the alphabet.

The pressure had already been insurmountable the moment you took your first breath.

Your second life was terrifying to say the least. It didn’t matter that way you died before, just the thought of experiencing the same motions again frightened you to your bones.

And so you pretended. A shining star to a dim moon that barely reflected any light. Ever so meticulously making sure none knew of your so called genius. The last thing you wanted was to be labeled a prodigy even with the more lax nature of your new family.

But art will always call to you, a sunflower drawn to its source of energy.

You kept everything as lowkey as you could, reconnected with contacts you knew would keep their mouth shut, and even kept your identity away from prying eyes.

To the world you were just this masked musician that was oddly reminiscent of their previous luminescence.

You were satisfied with that life. Fame wasn’t something you agonized about or wished for. But now that veil had been taken away, it’s as if everything was crashing down yet again. Emails, messages and articles about your success as a young star was beginning to show its true weight. Stress began accumulating further and further as you had distanced yourself from your family and threw yourself to work as a distraction.

On one such ‘productive’ night, you were met with a face you didn’t expect.

“Aqua-niisama! Nice seeing you here. Thought you would be staying at that director’s place for the night—“

“Why didn’t you tell me? Didn’t you promise to tell me everything? Don’t you trust me?”

Aquamarine had this knack of being utterly terrifying without meaning to. He had the talent to frighten at a glance. His beautiful sea-like eyes turn dull, murky. Capturing all the light, and drowning you in the same pressure your old family would throw you under repeatedly.

With his arms caging you between his form and the wall, you knew there was no escaping this. So in spite of the crippling anxiety, you gulp it do

“I wasn’t confident enough with my skills. Your mom is the Ai Hoshino and Ruby is so talented I—“

He lowered his face, nestled it right beside yours. You could swear he was breathing in your scent. “You looked anything but ‘not confident’ up on the stage.”

“Liar.” His hands then moved from the wall to encircle themselves around your body; his face to your the top of your head and nose between your hair. Yet even in this tight embrace you still felt chills down your spine. “I scare you don’t I? You were worried that I would stop you like I did with her.”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry. I’m a terrible brother.”

“No, I understand you. You just wanted to keep her safe and I—“

“Not for that.” He pushed himself away for a couple of moments, and for that short amount of time you were ashamed to say that you felt utterly relieved until— “This.”

— he kissed you.

You’ve seen Aqua kiss Akane before. Both on and out of camera. You respected their relationship despite knowing of how unhealthy it truly is. They’d eventually break up and things would go smoothly you thought.

Pfft, as if. You knew shit would hit the fan. You were just too much of a coward to get in his way. Akane could suffer for all you care, she chose to date your psychopath of an adoptive brother anyways.

But you didn’t expect him to fall for you.

He never seem interested. Despite your mother telling you time and time again that Aqua cared deeply about you, you just couldn’t see it.

He was the deep, dark ocean. You were at the highest point of the sky, sailing across the cosmic sea. There was no way you two could meet eye to eye much less love normally.

You did the only thing your body could muster at the moment and slapped him.

“You’re right. You are a horrid brother.”

As you ran away, sobbing, Aqua couldn’t help but feel aroused.

Oh, how charming you looked with tears streaking down your cheeks.

It felt like hours when you first started crying nonstop. You never cried in your original life. You had no time or energy to. You never expected that your second, mundane life would be the one that shattered you.

And shattered you it did. You felt sorry for the future you who had to wash off all the tears and snot on your pillows and bedsheets, but it had to be done. You knew if you didn’t let it all out that day it’d happen sooner or later at a more inconvenient time.

Aqua only entered once to leave a tissue box and water bottle before he left. The sounds of typing outside of your room never ceased however, indicating he never actually went too far.

Ruby arrived far earlier than you expected as well. Her schedule that day should have had her busy til midnight but you had the feeling Aqua told her what he’d done.

“Ruby-nee—“

“Ssshhh…” Ruby silenced you with a kiss to the forehead.

“Why would he do that— he - he has a girlfriend.” You stuttered and hiccuped throughout your speech, still crying as hard as you did back then.

“Do you really think he loves her?”

“No.”

“But that isn’t what you’re worried about isn’t it?”

Ruby brought you up to her shoulder, massaging your back in a circular motion. “Trust me, nothing will change. He loves you very much. We both love you. I’m just sorry we didn’t make you feel comfortable enough to share your passion with us. You’re amazing [Y/N] in every shape, way or form. You don’t have to be the brightest to the world, you have no obligation to.”

“To us you’re already perfect.”

You never knew she had the capability to be this comforting in a mature sort of way. She always radiated a loud vibration; refreshing most of the time, though it did get tiring.

Never have you been afforded this kind of consolation. It was always you against the world. Being reminded that there are other stars in the sky beside you gave you a strange sense of solace. An odd variety of relief borne out of being insignificant in the sky.

“This incident just means he loves you in a different way alright?”

“But what about Aka-neesama?”

“I’ll talk to him about it.”

“You should thank me. I left them all vulnerable for you.” Aqua spoke, his right hand quickly moved across his laptop’s keyboard and his left held a can of Monster.

“You felt it too didn’t you?” Ruby exhaled. It took a while to get you to lull you into sleep; a necessary step to have the conversation she was partaking in.

“Yeah. . . I did.” Aqua took a sip from his drink, his starry eyes laser focused on the recording of your performance. He had set up several fan accounts and gotten footage from all sorts of angles. He couldn’t wait for your next stage. May it be from sheer excitement or the caffeine in his blood, but the man was absolutely shaking all over over in anticipation. “We have a second chance, don’t mess things up.”

“I should be saying that to you. Break up with Akane by next week. And be careful with how forward you are with your feelings.”

“Already done.” Aqua held up his phone without breaking moving his head at all, in his phone were a few texts between him and a panicking Akane. “and no promises”

Ruby sighed one last time that night, leaning her head back to your bedroom door. “. . . You were right.”

“Hm?”

Both of her eye’s stars hard turn tar black, a blush covered her cheeks.

“[Y/N] does look enticing when they cry.”

[imgae-insertshockedgasps-16]

i don't think I'll ever be able to explain to able-bodied people the devastation of watching a doctor google smth right in front of you.

and yeah, they can't know everything, but holy shit i drove four hours and went over a ferry (even tho I hate them and they terrify me) and a bunch of high bridges and sat in traffic and argued with insurance companies and my primary care and have spent months getting to this point

just to watch the specialist who is supposed to help you google your symptoms/medications/diagnosis and tell you the exact same thing every other doctor has told you

"well you don't seem to have any problems." "you seem to be pretty healthy except for these symptoms." "have you tried x/y/z?" "get these labs done and we'll talk."

i have had all the labs. they're all normal/negative. i've tried everything that you just read in that article. i came here for smth different for smth new for help

just to be disappointed, again.

[meaningtotellyou]

The new daily mail article that Joe is devastated by this because he trusted Taylor that they were just friends in the months leading up to this. Obviously she didn’t cheat but this looks so bad for her. She looks like a cheater and is dating a racist and meanwhile Joe is just vibing and calling her out for sketchy behavior. In what world are we living in.

holy shit the article???

[shotofstress]

We must call for the boycott of the israeli author Yuval Noah Harari. He is, at "best", lukewarm when said that palestinians should have rights (coz he's playing the nice democractic guy), but at the same time he says explicitly that Hamas are criminals and terrorists, and that the left is "ignoring" their actions, and he has never ever call for the end of colonization bc he is totally happy with the invasion and the "right of israel to exist" (which it doesn't to be clear). He says that there is no peace just because "the arabs" (aka palestines and other territories don't want it).

Hamas launched this war with a specific political aim: to prevent peace. After signing peace treaties with the United Arab Emirates and Bahrain, Israel was on the verge of signing a historic peace treaty with Saudi Arabia. That agreement would have been Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s biggest achievement in his entire career. It would have normalized relations between Israel and much of the Arab world. At the insistence of the Saudis and Americans, the treaty’s conditions were expected to include significant concessions to the Palestinians, aimed to immediately alleviate the suffering of millions of them in the occupied territories, and restart the Israeli-Palestinian peace process.

Is Hamas winning the war? (at washington post that we must boycott)

Even says in that same article that the idea of killing people by flood was a Hamas thing when it was, all along, a israeli shit. In all this articles he puts religious references to portrait israel as divine and Palestines or any other country that resist as evil and even more, agents that twist divine actions or make thing to mock their myths and religion (that is actually what israel does to justify everyone and everything).

Hamas knew its attack would make Israelis livid, distraught with pain and anger, and the terrorists counted on Israel to retaliate with massive force, inflicting enormous pain on Palestinians. The codename Hamas gave its operation is telling: al-Aqsa Tufan. The word “tufan” means flood. Like the biblical flood intended to cleanse the world of sin even at the cost of nearly wiping out humanity, Hamas’s attack aimed to create devastation on a biblical scale.

He even lied about his familly and Hamas actions, telling all the things that israel does daily, but saying is was hamas, which never happened and has been debunked every week (Yuval Noah Harari on the Hamas attack: Terrorists are "waging a war on our souls").

We can understad from what he says that he believes that half of Palestine should be of the colonialists in the best of cases or that palestinians shound be totally under israel control if they can't govern themselves (aka obey israel) and let hamas exists. A explicit narrative that he tells is that the illigetimate state of israel is a jewish state, so he keeps the zionist lies going even when the likes to pretend that he speaks against zionism. Harari is one that as well as zionist enjoy the narratives that give apocalyptic tones and use real historical past events and biblical events to create a reaction: "What is destruction, and can Judaism survive a Third Destruction? [...] If the Third Destruction looks like the second, then no matter how terrible it is, we can hope that Judaism will survive, because this kind of destruction is Judaism’s formative event, and Jews are well-drilled in it. The Judaism of the Mishna and Talmud sprouted out of the smoldering ruins that the Zealots left in their wake. For the next 2,000 years, Judaism withstood repeated acts of political and economic destruction, such as the expulsion of the Jews from Spain, the Khmelnytsky massacres in Ukraine, and the Holocaust. It seemed that there is a fixed Jewish script, according to which the Jews build a political and economic center somewhere – in the Holy Land, Spain or Eastern and Central Europe – but just when they reach an apogee of prosperity, a terrible calamity befalls them, and they later have to pick up the pieces and start all over again.".

Here he reinforce the zionist ideas, all of them. Including saying that israel is the same situation that the jewish population in europe, and not the fact that Palestine is under colonization of european and usa zionists. That the "prosperity" of the zionists is because they are good (even blessed by a divine force as he inserts religious texts.), but then fail because is a mythical shit, in place of the reality of zionists stealing everything, living their daily lifes happy and as mundain as evil. This guy even calls "israel" a democracy. In the other hand he calls the Palestinians "Arabs" in order to neither name them nor recognize them or their country. Classic zionism. In all his text () he constantly equals judaism with israel and that jewish ppl should fear "spiritual destruction". He isn't agains israel, he is against israel been under "jewish supremacy". Weird to say that because he is all on board of been a supremacist. He is manipulative as fuck and a liar that loves zionism. Even says there are good zionist that helped not only the invasors but the whole world. He blames the near "loss of democracy" on Netanyhu and not in, you know, the fact that it can't be democracy under colonialism.

Out of the different streams of Judaism, religious Zionists will probably find it most difficult to cope with such a spiritual destruction, because they will be the main party responsible for bringing it on. For generations, religious Zionism produced leaders, thinkers, scholars, scientists, military officers and thousands of other dedicated and selfless people who made important contributions to the State of Israel and even to the whole world. But religious Zionism also pushed itself into a difficult historical corner, by taking upon itself the leadership role first in the settlement project and now also in the antidemocratic power-grab shaking Israel to its foundations.

Hariri even has the guts to say that people didn't hate jews/zionist for been jews, but for been special, a race better than the rest of races, unique, that didn't follow "the majority".

The reason that Jews were persecuted for centuries in Europe wasn’t hostility toward Jewish practices like observance of the Sabbath or of the dietary laws of kashrut. Jews were persecuted because they were a small minority that refused to follow the majority’s lead.

"Can Judaism Survive a Messianic Dictatorship in Israel?"

He even said that Zelenskyy is "the most inspiring Jewish leader of our generation". Yes, the racists and fascist that said that we, brown and black people deserved been invaded and in war, not like them, the white, blonde people with blue eyes, and that left behind emigrants and people of colour to die under russian attack when doing the evacuations of Ukraine. Harari even managed to complain about communism underlines. What a guy.

Surprised? Not really, I can't expect better of a guy that have zero proof of all the things he claim in his books and obviously in his classroom, who says that u are your genes and you are condemned to be only what your genes "says" which is that if u, for example, are poor or not educated you will be totally unable to stop been this 2 things bc is in your genes. Eugenics/genetic engineering ideas? Totally. Nazi and capitalist ideas? Of course. He is like Jordan Petersen, but more dangerous bc truly powerful ppl sees him as a genius and even some kind of oracle. The fucker is not just a bad academic, a scamer and populist, but a zionist and one of the most populars and massive voices of eugenic ideas. He says he is not a zionist and that he don't believe the invasors should think they are a superior race, but he clearly thinks that and that are people inherently superior to others, he thinks that oppressors (any kind) are superior in evolution and thats why they opress others.

He is clearly a totalitarian, a eugenics supporter and advocate, a transhumanist thus a hater of humanity and its diversities as well of nature and culture, community and empathy. He rejects History and science, rejects how the world works and how life works. This fucker only believes and wants to control humans and eliminate everything and everyone he deems "inferior" and Human.

Stop buying his books.

Full article "The Dangerous Populist Science of Yuval Noah Harari"

[thedawningofthehour]

I remember being introduced to the concept of ethnic cleansing unknowingly thanks to a Danny phantom fic. I remember I thought it was one of the most cruel and merciless things that could be done to someone, the helplessness and anger I felt when I finished reading was overwhelming, however, I consoled myself a little with the fact that it was a dystopia and did not happen in real life. Until I found out that it did happen in real life, and the way it affected a massive amount of indigenous communities that to this day is recognized as genocide, left me in shock.

The thought of being stripped of your identity, your culture, your family, while you see that the people responsible are quietly sitting back because they think they are doing you a favor, while insulting your roots, is enough to make you scream until your throat bleeds. It is truly a horror story.

If that's Draxxum's plan, then I don't think any punishment planned for him would be enough. The minimum i would ask, Whatever happens to him, let him know that he brought it on himself.

PD: i think is made clear that Donnie will not recover his memories before the war begin, And that when he does, the realization of the consequences of what he has done will be devastating. Almost enough to fill an entire arc😉?

What is WITH Danny Phantom and fucked up fan content? Seriously, the most horrifying, fucked up shit I've found has been in the Danny Phantom and the Yugioh fandoms-and the Yugioh fanworks were mostly just horny in really weird directions. Growing up I assumed that it was just the general age of the Phandom, that we were just at that point where we started becoming aware of the fucked up shit around us and were using fanfic and fanart to explore it. Which was definitely at least partially the case, but holy shit. Other cartoon fandoms generally don't have a vivisection genre. I don't know what it is about that show that brings this shit out in us. (I say this with love and affection-I have loved that show for almost twenty years)

I can't really say I recommend it, because it's not a book you enjoy reading, but I had to read First They Killed My Father a few years ago for a class, which is a first-hand account of a child during the Cambodian Genocide. I physically could not eat while I read this. I had no appetite. I'd have to put the book down and go do something else for a while before I could think about food. I generally consider myself a pretty stoic, hardened person when it comes to that kind of stuff-I recognize that it's horrible and feel bad, but it doesn't really upset me, if that makes sense. I remember reading one article about the Khmer Rouge that mentioned a specific tree they would use to kill infants-yeah, that is one of the only times I've ever had to say "I mentally cannot handle finishing this" and closed the tab.

The author describes being recruited as a child soldier and being told that they're the pride of the Khmer Rouge and that Pol Pot loves all his children. She's sitting there and remembering the people who starved to death in her original work camp while they loaded up food onto trucks to be sold internationally. Parents pleading with soldiers for more food because their children were actively starving. Being told "we only need two million people for our perfect society. We don't need them." It's a kind of rage and despair that you don't totally understand how to feel because it's not your own.

Like so many other things that Draxum does, it's a bit different because he's been there. His people were attacked because they were Yokai. His culture wasn't actively suppressed, but the Hidden City was so big and so few of his people made it there in the first place that most of their practices and traditions were replaced or simply died. No one speaks the Nordic language he grew up speaking. And he's not the kind of villain that just wants to make everyone suffer because he did. He's very aware that what he's doing is wrong-he just thinks that it's better than the alternatives.

Oh. Oh man. I have plans for Donnie. And yes, you should read that with an air of foreboding.

[gellavonhamster]

monthly media recap: may 2023

the lusty month of May! this one is gonna be long

read:

The Terror by Arthur Machen - a properly unsettling short novel about strange murders happening in England and Wales during World War II. I gotta say, I think the narrator is wrong :D as in, based on the story, I have a slightly different opinion on the cause of what happened

The Great Return by Arthur Machen - a novella about the reappearance of the Holy Grail in a small Welsh village; short, but beautiful

The Empty House and Other Ghost Stories by Algernon Blackwood - not bad apart from, as usual, certain period-typical yikes, but after Machen and M.R. James it just doesn't seem as good, and the endings to many stories felt too abrupt to me. However, I am a big fan of the character whose rooms were haunted by his friend's ghost, so he went to his other friend's place to study because "there's no hallucination about that exam; I must pass that whatever happens."

Issues No. 1-3 of the Hellebore zine - yep, still reading this, still in an absolutely random order. Witch trials, poison plants, the cult of Pan and other good shit; I've bookmarked the names of some books I might give a try later. I feel like the articles in earlier issues were more, uh, informal and essay-like and became more scientific as the zine continued to be released, which I think is a good change tbh

Temeraire series, Books 4-7 (Empire of Ivory, Victory of Eagles, Tongues of Serpents, and Crucible of Gold) by Naomi Novik - hell yeah! I started this series in 2019 (I believe?), read the first three books, loved them, but then kind of forgot to continue. Catching up on it now and greatly enjoying the alternate history (in very broad strokes: Napoleonic wars with sentient DRAGONS in the air force), constant adventures, anti-colonialist themes, and the extremely likeable cast.

+ progress on Lancelot-Grail: done with The Quest for the Holy Grail, The Death of Arthur, and the first part of Post-Vulgate (The Merlin Continuation). Currently reading the Post-Vulgate version of the Grail quest and Book 8 of of Temeraire - Blood of Tyrants

watched:

Daisy Jones & The Six (2023) - there were changes in comparison to the book that I liked (loved Simone's storyline in the show, for example) and that I disliked. I think the novel and the adaptation work together best. The soundtrack is amazing, and the original songs are very good even out of context

Valkoinen peura / The White Reindeer (1952) - older horror films often are more haunting than the newer ones despite limited special effects and mostly relying on things like lighting and music - or maybe because of that - and this Finnish film is a good example of that. God forbid women do anything (turn into a murderous reindeer)

November (2017) - fascinating folk horror set in 19th century Estonia - mundane magic, deals with the devil, and the unrequited love no spells can fix. Beautiful and sad and very well-made

Yellowjackets (season 2, 2021-?) - AAAAAAA!!! I know many people found this season much worse than s1, but I honestly enjoyed it, even if I didn't agree with all decisions (they better do something unexpected about Van's cancer, or I'll be mad). The finale is devastating, but I kinda expected that to happen :( it was one of the most likely character deaths. Alas, the only one of these women I'd be ready to let go is the one who's certainly not dying unless they all die in the end (which is not that unlikely, I guess). Anyway, this is one of my favourite shows at the moment, and I'm really excited for season 3 (and the mysterious bonus episode?..)

[sageglitch]

fun fact, seeing the charlie article was how i found out juanflippa was dead — 🌹

NOOOOOO

oh my god. oh my god that is so grim. holy shit that is devastating oh my god

[seijorhi]

Choke.

another soulmate au nobody asked for :)

Akaashi Keiji x female reader x Bokuto Koutarou

TW dub-con, implied future non-con

It wasn’t a good day to begin with.

You’re late, rushing through the busy campus hallways to make it to an exam that quite frankly you’re at least 70% sure you’re going to fail, mostly because instead of cramming last night you’d been… otherwise occupied with your boyfriend.

And you really, really just want this whole thing to just be over with already.

With your nose stuck in your textbook, frantically pouring over your notes right up until the very last second, it’s hardly a surprise that you don’t see the two of them rushing down the hallway in the opposite direction until you’re quite literally colliding with the taller of the pair – the broad shouldered one.

Your notes go flying, the last of your coffee too and for one split second, you’re pretty positive that you’re gonna end up flat on your ass with a little more than some bruised pride. But just as you’re about to hit the ground, not one but two hands reach for you, catch you, and the very second they do, you feel it:

A flash of guilt and momentary alarm, embarrassment, you think, and chagrin, each emotion hitting you like a sledgehammer, overwhelming you, one after the other in a dizzying blur that’s distinctly other, and then–

Shock.

Dawning surprise. 

A rush of something warm, adoring, a happiness so bright and blinding that it makes you physically jerk backwards, almost slamming your head against the wall in the process. And two pairs of eyes – one a deep, luminous gold, the other a cool, gunmetal blue – stare at you in wide eyed wonder a split millisecond before you wrench yourself free, gasping. 

The moment their grip falters, the torrent stops. You can breathe.

Blessed silence, save for the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears. Everything fades out around you – the students and lecturers alike bustling through the busy hallway, the humming drone of chatter that’s nearly deafening. Nothing exists but the three of you; caught in your little bubble.

And it’s dread, you think, that seeps through your blood as you stare at them. 

They’re both handsome, albeit in their own ways. The taller of the two – the one who’d almost barrelled you over – looks like he could probably bench press you without breaking a sweat. His shirt isn’t exactly clinging to him, but you can see the hints of well defined muscles beneath, and the size of his biceps alone are enough to make your heart skip a beat and your mouth dry up a little. With rippling muscles, spiky black and silver hair, a strong jawline and those round, golden eyes, he looks like a modern day adonis. 

His friend might’ve been shorter, his build leaner, but with his softer features, pretty eyes and dark hair, you think he’s perhaps the prettiest man you’ve ever laid eyes on. From the fineness of his nose to the gentle curve of his lips and his long, dark sweeping eyelashes, he reminds you of those white marble statues you’ve seen before in museums and art galleries– a beauty so divine, so perfect – so devastating – that it steals your breath a little.

And they’re both watching you, frozen entirely. Smiling in breathless delight, as if they can’t quite believe it either.

Soulmates. 

You’ve spent your whole life wondering what it would be like, experiencing somebody else’s emotions. Studies have been done and countless books and articles written about the bond between soulmates; the intimacy of sharing emotions through touch, but nobody really knows why or how it happens.  

And for some, it’s a subtle thing. A suggestion, a whisper against their own consciousness, easily brushed aside. Others feel it stronger. 

For you, it was like drowning. Choking under the sudden, intense barrage of feelings that weren’t yours. Maybe it’s because there’s two of them – and that much at least you’re sure of. You don’t have the words to explain it, but they’d felt separate somehow, distinctive from one another – kind of like fingerprints, you suppose.

There’s no denying the bond, no denying that they’re both your soulmates, and all you can think of is that you don’t want it. Not here, not now. Not them.

The dark haired one seems to realise quicker than his friend that you’re not reacting how you’re supposed to, you’re just standing there, rigid and tense, gaping at them. And the slight smile that graced his perfect lips starts to waver, his brows drawing together when finally his friend cottons on.

He reaches for you, the beginnings of a pout taking shape on his face, and you move without even thinking, jerking out of reach with a sharp breath. His hand hangs outstretched for a beat too long, a noise like a kicked puppy leaving his lips as he realises that you’re flinching away from him; away from your soulmate. He looks heartbroken, and he’s yet to utter a single word. 

You don’t give him a chance. You’re not some cold, unfeeling beast; there’s a twinge in your heart, a heaviness that’s far too close to guilt settling in your stomach, but you just can’t. And with shaking hands you bend over and hastily grab up your things, forcing yourself not to meet their confused, hurt stares when you right yourself. 

“I– I’m sorry,” you murmur, and before either one of them can try to stop you, you disappear into the crowd, racing for your exam. 

—

The lights are on when you make it back home, the familiar, comforting scent of home cooked food filling your apartment.

“Hey, babe,” your boyfriend calls out as you wearily drop your purse by the door and kick out of your shoes. His back’s to you, attention fixed on the simmering saucepan on the stovetop, but he glances over his shoulder as he continues, “How’d your exam go?”

And you can’t help it, you burst into tears.

Painful, heaving sobs that might’ve had you collapsing onto the floor if he hadn’t swept across the room to snatch you up into his arms. “That bad, huh?” Kuguri jokes, but the words sound hollow.

“I found them,” you mutter into his chest, and the way he stiffens, his grip tightening for just a moment has your heart breaking all over again. 

Kuguri doesn’t say much as he leads you to the couch, he just lets you talk. It’s almost worse, you think, the way he doesn’t react. 

Because you both knew this was coming at some point. For months you’ve tried to convince yourself that you could feel him when you were together.

You felt his love when he held you, right?

Happy when he was happy?

But you’d known, both of you, that as much as you wished it otherwise, he wasn’t your soulmate, and you weren’t his. And whether it was today or six months down the line, this was always going to happen.

“You don’t have to…” you trail off, searching his eyes desperately for anything other than the gentle resignation lingering there. “I love you.”

He smiles at that, cups your cheek in his hand and brushes away the stray tear that spills. “I know you do, but–” it’s not enough. “They’re your soulmates. Don’t you think they deserve a chance to make you happy?”

He’s gone when you wake the next morning.

—

In a university of thousands, a sprawling city campus, you honestly believe that in spite of everything, you probably won’t see them again. They don’t know your name, or what you study, you don’t live in the dorms like some of the other students; the chances of just randomly bumping into them again are slim, soulmates or no.

Of course, there are facebook groups and pages set up to reconnect lost soulmates, but you’d have to actually want to find them to try something like that.

(Part of you wonders whether they’ve tried)

The universe has a sense of humour, it seems, because when your paths cross next, it’s not at uni, it’s at the little corner store a few blocks down from your apartment. 

At 2am in the morning. 

And you’re staring intently at the freezer, mentally weighing up exactly what kind of ice cream you need to sate your craving when you hear the sharp intake of breath behind you.

“Holy crap, you’re here.”

It’s stupid, you think, the way your stomach flutters when you turn to find him staring in wide eyed wonder; the taller one, with the spiky hair and those impossibly wide, honey eyes.

He’s smiling, his entire face lit up like a christmas tree at the sight of you. As if you hadn’t run off without so much as an acknowledgement the last time you’d met. As if seeing you here, looking like shit – makeup free and dressed in your old favourite sweats – is the absolute best thing that could have happened.

And when your cheeks grow hot, you’re not entirely sure if it’s embarrassment over the way you look, the fact that he’s caught you buying ice cream that you fully intend to let melt just a little bit before polishing off at two in the morning, or if it’s shame over how badly you’d reacted the last time you’d seen him.

But if he notices your inner turmoil, he doesn’t show it, grinning widely as he calls back over his shoulder, “Akaashi!”

You still haven’t uttered a peep, haven’t moved. Just like last time you’re caught feeling like a kid with their hand stuck in the cookie jar as your other soulmate rounds the corner, his attention fixed on the ingredients list of the rice cracker snacks in his hands, a basket full of groceries tucked into the crook of his elbow.

“Bokuto, I was just around the corner, there’s no need to shout.”

Pretty steel blue eyes flicker up for a split second, then quickly do a double take as he realises that it’s you – his errant soulmate, standing struck dumb, here of all places. “Oh.”

Oh. 

Akaashi eyes you for a moment, and you watch as his throat bobs unsteadily, but just as with Bokuto, he can’t seem to help the smile that creeps across his face. It’s softer than his friend’s, not so blinding but warm nonetheless. Genuine. There’s no animosity there, and it should put you at ease – they don’t seem to blame you, at least. 

It should, but it doesn’t. 

Even now, there’s a little voice in your head urging you to forget your late night cravings, turn tail and run. Nevermind that they’d likely just follow you, much less that you’d look like an absolute fucking idiot, fleeing from your soulmates who so far have done nothing wrong.

It’s not supposed to be this awkward, right? It’s not supposed to be difficult, but even when they’re smiling at you, there’s a tension that digs its claws into you and refuses to relent. Your heart thumps unevenly, like a scared little bunny caught in a trap and the wolves are circling.

If it’s normal, then your parents and every other soulmated pair you’ve ever met certainly kept it to themselves. Maybe it’s the guilt, you think. Maybe you’re just being overdramatic. They’re your soulmates, right? They probably just want to talk, to get to know you, and right now you’re the one being standoffish and rude. 

It occurs to you then that you still haven’t spoken, and they’re both staring at you somewhat expectantly. You really are fucking this up, aren’t you?

“H-hi,” you manage to muster, forcing yourself to smile back. Tiny and timidly, perhaps, but it’s a smile. 

It seems to work, because Bokuto positively beams at you and Akaashi sets down his basket to slide in closer, a pleased little hum escaping his throat. 

Aside from the faint sound of the radio playing in the background and the cashier casually flicking through a magazine up at the register, the store is quiet. It’s just the three of you, except this time there really is no running off and disappearing into the crowd. Which is fine, you need to face them sooner or later, right?

Give them a chance?

Otherwise everything else, all that heartbreak and the lonely nights since will have been all for nothing. So you swallow tightly, take a soft, steadying breath, and press on.

“I, um… I’m sorry about last time. You know with… everything,” you finish lamely, mentally cringing at the sheer awkwardness of it. “I had an exam.”

But again, your soulmates don’t seem to take it personally, the darker haired one (Akaashi, your brain helpfully supplies) nodding slightly. 

“It’s okay. You’re here now.” He has a nice voice, calming and smooth, and though the words seem to carry a different weight you find yourself nodding along with him. You can do this, you can make an effort.

This is fine.

You swallow again, tongue darting out to wet your lips, “I’m Y/N,” you introduce, clutching just a little bit tighter at the handles of your own shopping basket.

You don’t extend a hand, nor try to go in for a hug, but standing there rigidly feels wrong too. They’re strangers, yes, but they’re also not, and you don’t quite know how to act around somebody like that, somebody you’re supposedly fated for but know nothing about. All you know is that the last time they touched you, it was too much. It hurt. And even as you catch sight of the slightly disheartened expression on Bokuto’s face, you’re hesitant to put yourself through it again.

“It’s pretty,” Akaashi compliments, and there’s a faint dusting of pink on his cheeks as he says it. “Suits you.”

Your own probably aren’t much better, with the blood that rushes to your face. You drop your gaze a little, nibbling on your bottom lip, “O-oh, uh… thank you.”

When you glance back up to Bokuto, you find him staring at you again, not with the same hurt expression as before, but something akin to wonder. He seems speechless, in awe of your flustered state, and you wonder how he can bounce that quickly from emotion to emotion without giving himself whiplash. But it seems like your attention is just the thing he needs to pull himself out of it, because he closes his gaping mouth and grins again.

“Y/N,” he repeats, like he’s testing it out, rolling your name over his tongue. “You probably heard, but I’m Bokuto– you can call me Koutarou, though.” 

There’s a beat of silence, and he’s quick to add, “And that’s Akaashi.”

“Keiji,” Akaashi corrects, shooting you another gentle smile. 

First names. It makes sense, you suppose, but the familiarity of it all still doesn’t sit quite right with you. But now that introductions are out of the way, you don't have a clue what you’re supposed to say now - ‘so, soulmates; crazy, huh?’ doesn’t exactly feel appropriate, given the circumstances.

You’re distinctly aware that it’s the middle of the night and you’re at a convenience store and while this might not be the worst time to run into your soulmates again, it’s not far off. 

Maybe that’s not a bad thing, though, because at least it kind of gives you an out. Shifting your weight from one foot to another, you clear your throat, “I hope you guys don’t think I’m being rude or anything, but it is kinda late…” you trail off, hoping they’ll pick up what you’re putting down.

And while Bokuto’s brow furrows, Akaashi at least has the decency to look a little abashed. “Yeah, no, of course. We’re just so… we’re glad we ran into you again.”

 Your cheeks heat again, and to save yourself from having to meet their gazes head on, you quickly spin around, open the freezer door and grab the first pint ice cream that you see. “I just came for this,” you laugh, fighting back a wince at how hollow and fake it all sounds. 

“Here,” Bokuto says, and before you can react he’s snatching it from your grip (thankfully keeping his hand from brushing against yours) and places it atop the basket in Akaashi’s arms. “Our treat.”

He beams at you, and you’re honestly too stunned to reply. You don’t really want him paying for it, but if it gets you out of this awkward encounter any quicker, you’ll swallow down your protests and let it go. 

And so you trail meekly after the two of them as they head to the cashier, and when Akaashi passes you the bag you’re so careful to avoid his touch, a fact he notes with the slightest of frowns, but he doesn’t comment on it. 

“It’s late,” he says instead as the three of you exit into the brisk night air. And then those gunmetal eyes are on you, studying you for a moment. You realise what he’s about to say the moment he opens his mouth again, “Can we walk you home? Or to the bus stop at least?”

Your stomach lurches at the thought of it, of two veritable strangers knowing where you live, but–

He’s not wrong, exactly. It is late, and in hindsight it was probably stupid for you to have come out at this time of the night alone in the first place, whether it was a safe neighbourhood or not. And they’re not strangers, they’re your soulmates.

You have to try. 

So you nod. ‘It’s just down the road,” you murmur, but as the two of them fall into step either side of you, sharing a distinctly satisfied look between themselves, you think that it wouldn’t have mattered how far it was. They would have walked with you anywhere.

Yet their expressions of mild surprise (disappointment, maybe?) when you stop them less than five minutes later in front of your apartment block almost makes you laugh. “This is me.”

Bokuto eyes the building for just a moment before his attention returns to you. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

Lie, that little voice inside your head urges, but you force yourself to ignore it. You have to try. “Uh, not much, I guess…”

Even as you say the words, your hands tighten on your bag, twisting nervously – a sign they either don’t read or wilfully ignore as Bokuto brightens up once again.

“Awesome! Wanna swing by ours to chill for a little bit?”

Like a date, you think as your gaze flickers between the two. Yet Akaashi’s watching you just as intently, those dark eyes far more inscrutable than Bokuto’s, which doesn’t help ease the uncomfortable feeling sitting in the pit of your stomach. There’s really no reason for you to say no, no polite way for you to turn them down. They’re your soulmates, you’re supposed to want this. “Um…”

“Or we can come here, if you want? Or head into the city and do something there, maybe go see a movie or something? Whatever you’d prefer.”

“No!” the words slip from your tongue before you can stop them, the idea of the two of them in your apartment, your home just feels like… too much. “No,” you repeat again, quieter, forcing your features to soften into a hesitant smile. “Your place is good.”

That way you can leave if it all gets to be too much. It’s just a casual hang out. It’ll be fine. 

Both of them seem to relax at your agreement, and you quickly take out your phone to grab Akaashi’s number – sending him a message so he has your number too.

“Perfect,” he says, his voice a purr that sends a ripple of something running down your spine. “I’ll text you the address in the morning.”

You smile at both of them, thanking them again for the ice cream and for walking back with you, even if it was only a few hundred metres. And you think you’re in the clear as you start walking up the steps, trying to balance your keys, your phone and your bags when the sound of your name being called makes you turn around.

Bokuto’s there, a step behind you, and before you can even so much as blink he’s grabbing at your hand, tugging you forward and kissing you.

Just like last time, it’s instantaneous and overwhelming. You feel it all – his giddy excitement, the stirrings of something deeper, less innocent as he cradles your body to his.

And the love. 

Oh god. It’s not mere affection, not some fleeting, superficial thing. It pours over you in unrelenting waves, crushing you under the force of it – you can’t even feel his tongue moving against yours, or the way he sucks on your bottom lip, groaning quietly.

You can’t breathe, can’t think. It’s too much, too much, too strong, too sudden, you can’t BREATHE.

Your trembling hands finds his shoulders, and as your head spins, nausea churning in your gut you don’t waste a second, shoving him away from you with enough force that he actually stumbles back a little.

Though you’ll admit it’s probably more from shock than any strength you actually possess. 

And you don’t dare look to Akaashi as tears fill your eyes, a heaving gasp leaving your lips. Bokuto’s eyes are wide, his mouth agape; he looks confused more than horrified as you stumble back, almost tripping over the last step.

“D-don’t touch me,” you gasp, “please.”

There’s pain in his eyes as your tears well up and spill over and you choke back another sob, but you don’t give him a chance to say anything else. Limbs trembling, you force yourself upright, clutching at the keys in your fist as you skitter towards the door.

You hear one of them, Akaashi you think, calling out your name, but you don’t pause, don’t look back – throwing open the lobby door and slamming it shut behind you. 

And your heart pounds as you climb the steps two at a time, and it’s only once you're in the safety of your own apartment, with the door shut and firmly locked that you allow yourself to breathe. You realise distantly that at some point – probably on the steps outside – you dropped the ice cream they’d bought for you, but you can’t find it within yourself to care. The first time you realise was an accident, they had no way of knowing you were their soulmate, much less how you’d react when they’d touched you. But that–

That wasn’t right.

It wasn’t normal.

Those feelings, that love, you’ve never experienced anything like it, and yet it’s left you feeling filthy; tainted. Scared. It was too much; boundless and abundant, the kind of love that devours and chokes, selfishly strangling everything in its environment to thrive. Overpowering and solely directed at you. How was it supposed to do anything but terrify you. And how can he possibly believe that he loves you like that already?

Soulmates or not, you don’t know him!

This– this whole thing is wrong.

You can’t stop yourself from checking the locks on your apartment another three times before you slip under the covers of your bed, trying to will sleep to find you.

On the nightstand beside you, your phone vibrates, but you refuse to check it, knowing full well that it’s them.

It doesn’t stop.

And with every new notification your blood pressure climbs, and there’s a part of you that’s telling you you have no reason to be reacting like this – whatever happened on those steps, it’s not like they’re going to hurt you.

It was an accident, a misunderstanding.

But they’re still blowing your phone up with notifications and they know where you live and no matter what you tell yourself, you can’t seem to quell the disquiet that eats away at you.

And it’s a cruel thing to do, you know it is, but you don’t know what else to do as you finally give in, swiping your phone up and searching for his contact. The phone rings once, twice, three times and there’s a sinking feeling in your chest when you realise he’s not going to pick up–

“Hello?” Kuguri’s voice is groggy, heavy with sleep and you can almost picture him, sitting up in bed, wiping the sleep from his eyes, running a hand through his messy bed hair. “Fuck, do you know what time it is, Y/N? Why’re you calling me so late?”

There’s a pause, pregnant and heavy, and the only sound that leaves you is the soft hitch in your breath.

“Is everything okay?” he asks, quieter this time, an edge of worry in his tone.

You haven’t spoken to him in weeks, since he’d left without a word and broke your heart, but he’s the only one you want to talk to right now.  

“I-I’m sorry for calling,” you begin, sniffling back your tears. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

—

When you drag yourself out of bed only a few short hours later, your body’s still crying out for a little more sleep, but you can’t afford to indulge.

Like you’d planned, you send the message first thing, ignoring the flood of unread texts above – both from Akaashi and an unknown number you can only assume is Bokuto’s.

I’m sorry about last night, just need some space. 

You have nothing to be sorry for – even if it wasn’t for the frankly unsettling emotions you’d felt, Bokuto’d still kissed you without your permission. But Kuguri said it was better that way – they were less likely to freak out and panic or whatever. You hadn’t questioned it too much, it didn’t really matter what you said so long as they knew you didn’t want them anywhere near you… at least until you figured this whole thing out. And you trusted Kuguri on this.

God knows why he’d even answered your call in the first place, but you’re impossibly glad that he did. Gladder still that he hadn’t hung up on you the moment he’d realised why you were calling.

You scoff down a quick breakfast, before hopping into the shower. The scalding water’s a welcome relief, waking you up more than your coffee had and allowing you the space to think.

Kuguri’s got errands to run this morning, but he’d said you were welcome to stop by his place anytime. He’d insisted on it actually, telling you in no uncertain terms to pack an overnight bag.

‘Look, I’m probably being an overprotective asshole, alright, but I don’t want you there by yourself, so either you come here or I’m coming over there.’

And the thought that you’d need somebody there to protect you, that either one of your soulmates would do anything–

But it’s not so much about them, you think, but you. You’d been a mess when you’d called him, and despite how everything had gone down, Kuguri still cared about you – you can’t just turn those feelings off overnight – is it any wonder that you’d worried him?

Distantly, you register your phone going off a few more times as you busy yourself in washing your hair. You assume it’s Kuguri checking up on you, making sure that you’re alright – you pay it no mind, humming quietly as you reach for your conditioner.

And by the time you slip from your bathroom, wrapped in a big, fluffy towel it’s probably closer to mid-morning than you’d like. You don’t bother blow drying your hair or putting on makeup, instead heading to your room to get dressed and grab some clothes to take to Kuguri’s.

Except there’s a knocking at the door that stops you in your tracks.

You hadn’t heard the buzzer for the building’s main door go off, which meant that it was probably just your landlord stopping by, or one of your neighbours. You know the little girl who lives in the apartment next to yours likes to bake with her dad and sometimes drops off freshly made cookies and treats, so you hastily throw on enough clothes to pass as decent. 

“Coming,” you sing out, racing across the room to reach the door. 

Except when you throw it open, it’s not one of your neighbours standing out in your hallway, nor is it your elderly landlord. 

Akaashi and Bokuto crowd the empty space; Bokuto grinning widely, Akaashi’s dark eyes fixed on yours. 

“You weren’t answering your phone,” he murmurs, a faint frown tugging at his features as studies your face. “We were worried about you.”

And there’s so many things wrong with the fact that they’re here; least of all being how the hell they got into the building to begin with, but you can’t afford to think of any of that. You simply need to get them out of here without causing a fuss. Now.

They’re still your soulmates, you remind yourself as your heart rate picks up. They won’t do anything to hurt you. 

“I-I told you I needed space, please go,” you mutter, clutching so tightly at the edge of the door that your knuckles turn white. “Please,” you beg again when neither of them make a move to leave.

“I told you, ‘Kaashi,” Bokuto says, his smile slipping in favour of a wounded pout, “She’s afraid of us. Her soulmates.”

And you don’t know what compels you to shake your head instead of just slamming the door in their faces, “N-no, I just–”

“She’s just skittish,” Akaashi interrupts, cutting you off mid-sentence. “Overwhelmed – this is all new to her. It’s okay, princess,” he says, addressing you this time with a teasing little smirk, “We’ll be gentle, okay? We’re going to take good care of you.”

It’s the final blow to your tentative politeness. As panic sinks its teeth into you, you skitter backwards, scrambling to shut the front door before they can get in–

Bokuto’s faster. They both are.

Stronger, too. 

[hmlegacy]

Spider-Man: NWH, gotta vent

But I do understand it’s only in theaters right now and Omicron is on the rampage so many probably haven’t gotten a chance to see it. SPOILERS and Read more below!

Gotta vent though, this movie has to be the most devastating thing I have watched in a long time. I went to Endgame by myself. Amongst strangers. I didn’t crack a tear until I got home because I just don’t like to cry in public.

Today however? Nah, couldn’t do it, cracked like an EGG. And this? This not only took the cake from Endgame but the plate and fork too, HOLY SHIT.

First and foremost...still a great movie. As my buddy said, “well, we could be sad because it was a terrible movie?”. Which is true, Tobey Maguire’s Spiderman 3 is still the only movie I have stood up to walk out of so it is a win. But at what cost?

As someone that likes to write, I look at the web that actions cause. At the beginning of the movie, we are given the information that Peter was placed in May’s care, which typically means parents aren’t here. Peter Parker has always been an orphan so, yea. There was no Uncle Ben in this universe and the way it seems, we have to assume May is all he has.

When they SPOILER TO BE SURE kill Aunt May...this just is...A LOT in any circumstance. Aunt May takes Uncle Ben’s iconic place here and she does a great job...but that does mean that Spiderman now has NO ONE. At least not family, so.

Okay. He has MJ and Ned, right? And he’s an Avenger! Right? Nope. The only way to undo this mess was...to have everyone forget “Spiderman”. Now here’s a problem I have: they kept saying “Spiderman”. That means the guy in the suit. That does not mean Peter Parker. What they proceed to do...is destroy the existence of Peter Parker and keep Spiderman.

This means that his friends...have no idea of his existence. And it goes a step further, apparently...NO ONE KNOWS OF HIS EXISTENCE. Aunt May would have had some kind of inheritance for him, or he would have gotten her things. Nope, he is destitute. Happy Hogan sees him at May’s grave, like, WTF are you? Oh, just...basically May’s child. Ah, and he, uh, also apparently doesn’t exist enough to have gone to school?? He’s getting his GED.

All that he did...with Thanos and them. His legacy with Iron Man--all of this...gone...so Sony can fuck this up again.

I read an article, apparently Sony like’s their Spider-man tortured and ‘lonely’. Uh..most of the Spider-man’s I knew of...had an Aunt May?? Had an MJ?? Had him getting a high school degree. You have this man starting from  scratch. WHY MARVEL? WHY DID YOU SHOP SPIDERMAN OUT FOR HIM TO GET TREATED LIKE THIS?!

I am...legit blown. Wow. Hello, 2022. I should have tried to see this in 2021 so I could have left this behind, damn. Damn it, MYSTERIO.

[nomimits7]

Cold Phoenix |7|

Title: Cold Phoenix

Pairing: FBI BTS x Gang/mafia member (named) reader

Genre: Mission au, FBI au, Gang au

Warnings: Angst, manipulation, riddles (sorry), betrayal

Summary: Being born as the Taboo child between the good and the bad of this world, Zebah grew up believing she was just another one of the stolen. But just like the moon that needs the sun to shine, seven FBI agents enter her life with the promise of freedom. Before long Zebah realizes she is just another pawn in the game of Mafia vs. FBI. Will Zebah ever learn to trust the seven men that betrayed her to get what they wanted? Will she ever believe the truth behind her own birth? Or will Zebah fall alongside her family that lied to her from the start?

A/N: This story is told in the third person. Try to guess who the narrator is! Also this is my first time writing in this style. Please do tell me what you think. Should I keep to it or not?? The bold words are flashbacks of past scenes. The normal words are what the narrator tells.

Part 6

*-*

It took a local FBI bust for Zebah to click that the sun on their badge probably had something to do with this new gang Bimil. That did not sit well with her at all. Not because they were FBI agents, but the fact that they tried to lie to her to gain her trust. Now I’m no expert in how normal humans function but even I know how ridiculous that is. Thus her own little investigation began.

There were millions of things that Zebah could use to help take down Phoenix. But as many as there were, there were also many loopholes. Too many things that could easily be denied or be seen as insignificant. She had to choose wisely. Usually, whenever she had to dig up some dirt on anyone, she would have no problem, but this was different. This was her family.

After another unsuccessful round of searching, Zebah decided to focus on the riddles the seven gave her. They all had something to do with the sun and the moon and even though she suspected the sun to be an FBI reference, there was still the moon.

So far there were four riddles or clues she needed to dissect. The two from their first meeting, the one in the box, and the one they gave her on the boat. All either had something to do with birds or the moon and the sun. The first riddle described different birds and how some chose to not use their wings, which they all had in common. Thinking in a literal sense, the birds could be a reference to actual people. Some people live normal lives, other work for law enforcement and then there were those that worked more on the illegal side.

But what did they mean by ‘they all have wings’? what was the one thing people had in common? What if the wings were references to destiny? It made sense to Zebah. Everyone had a destiny, but some people chose to ignore their laid-out path in life and do their own thing. Holy shit. What if they were referring to how she can choose whether she wanted to stay in the mafia’s talons or if she wanted to spread her wings and fly?

Zebah managed to keep her squeal soft. She just solved her very first riddle, on her own! But even if that is what they meant. It’s not that simple. What if they were just talking like that to confuse her? Make her waist her time on meaningless riddles, besides how did they know she wanted out?

Is that what the second riddle referred to? ‘even the moon needs the sun to shine’

She needed them. But the moon shined in the darkness. The sun could never shine in the darkness and the moon would never be as bright in the presence of light. Looking at this from a literal aspect, the sun reflects off the moon and that’s how the moon shines. No physical light comes from the moon, yet without the sun the moon is nothing but a giant rock floating in darkness.

But if the sun referred to the FBI how the hell does that fit? Maybe the sun refers to something else? But what? On a hunch, Zebah looked up the significance of her birth date… 15 April. This day is one of the annual holidays in North Korea where the birth of Kim ll-sung is celebrated. It’s also known as the day of the sun.

Unfortunately, that’s not all. That day also marked the death of one of the most loved agents of the FBI, code name S.U.N. according to the article Zebah found she was electrocuted and then shot executioner style right after giving birth. They only know this because of the umbilical cord and placenta that was found still inside her womb.

Zebah stopped her little assignment after reading that. For some reason unbeknownst to her reading that made her feel hollow. As if the death of agent S.U.N. had to mean something to her. At the time she simply thought it was a coincidence that she died on the day Zebah was born, but believe me when I tell you she was even more devastated when she finally learned the truth.

I know it was wrong of me to not inform her, but at the time my mother's words kept replaying in my mind.’ If she ever finds out about her true identity, mommy will have to ‘fix’ that to’

I was afraid of what my mother would do to Zebah if I ever told her the truth. But the seven boys decided to do that for me. After all. Zebah found something that would not only destroy Phoenix but would make sure every single member that was involved would receive the highest form of punishment. This includes Zebah.

Part 8

A/N: I did mention that the bold parts happens in the past? Right??? 

[jjkpls]

(y)our name 2 - two (m)

> genre : smut, fluff

> pairing : jeon jungkook x reader (f)

> total words : 10.3k

> warnings/content : dumbassesfriends to lovers, unrequited love, slice of life; cursing, dirty talk, penetrative intercourse, oral (m receiving), thigh riding, some filth and then some more filth; jk being a lil shit, oc still panicking

jungkook : Who said I don’t want it

It took him a good twenty minutes to send this. You don't know if he pondered over it for that long or if, after getting back to whatever it is he was doing, the thought suddenly sprang in his head. It's such a curious message. Makes your heartbeat stutters and your hands clammy and it takes you an eternity to formulate a response.

you : Well you sent me the link for a reason

jungkook : Yea cause I thought it might help but it has nothing to do with what I want

What?

jungkook : You’re the one who said you wouldn’t do it again with me

What?

you : Did i say that?

jungkook : Yes you did

You start to type but stop as you realise you don't even know what to say. He wants it again? And what is he even saying? You don't remember ever saying that. Everything's a blur honestly, but Jungkook's words, his insistence, it almost gives off the feeling that he remembers well. Perhaps he hasn't just brushed it off like you thought he did.

you : Would you want it again?

jungkook : Say what you meant to send and I’ll answer

Those goddamn dots.

you : That’s not very fair but whateva

you : You wanna be a big baby as you always are

jungkook : I’m not even going to answer that

you : Well you just did idiot

You purposefully waste time, just trying to delay the confession.

You want to test your luck -maybe rejection is not what's waiting for you. He's pushing it, demanding you to tell. He's admitted some of his own feelings so you should do the same.

you :  it’s just that I found myself very frustrated, to an extent solo doesn’t do anything for me anymore..

As soon as you send the text, you shut the device off, throwing it down on the carpet. It's burning like your shame on your face and you can't bear to hold it any longer.

You really sent that. Your heart is beating furiously. You feel yourself sweating bullets. It's so hot, you sway your legs nervously, vainly hoping to ventilate the suddenly overly-heated room.

Jungkook is sweet, he doesn't leave you hanging for too long and soon enough, your phone is vibrating, begging you to pick it back up.

jungkook : Of course it wouldn’t 

you : Ok don’t even get cocky with me dude

jungkook : Why not? It’s my fault isn’t it?

jungkook : Cause I made you feel that good

So he knows. You were annoyed for you found yourself troubled, anxious and restless. Shaken to your core, moved to your soul. But a side of you, the rational one, kept pestering that you were the chaotic, dumb and weak one responsible for the mess he's made of you. However, here, he admits he knows. He's known all along. He's done it on purpose: fucking you up.

you : 😐

jungkook : Don’t admit it it’s fine we both know it

What an ass.

you : Seriously you’re too cocky what for

Your brain is off right now. You don't know what to say, tempted by the teasing warmth your chest is taken over but nervous to let it spread too far.  

jungkook : I know I’m right

jungkook : I’m not trying to embarrass you

jungkook : Maybe embarrass your exes a bit

jungkook : But it’s pretty easy to tell

jungkook : When someone hasn’t felt a certain way before

jungkook : I know you’ve never come that hard before

jungkook : Don’t lie to me

jungkook : And more than once you reacted like I was crazy

jungkook : Thats the whole fun of playing with a cunt it’s to make it come endlessly until it hurts and your soaked sore and allswollen adn red

Shit. How does he even do that? With just a couple of texts, rendering you speechless, breathless and burning. Soaked in your panties, the discomfort so evident you have to sit up, thighs pressed to one another by fear of exposing the incriminating dark spot out in the open.

He does own you. Capable of manipulating your body and mind with a few well-chosen words. It's something you've never played with, dirty talking. And you didn't know you'd like it as much as you do. But when Jungkook does -the other night, tonight by text- it's lethal.

But how could he do it so easily? Turning so lewd so suddenly? When for the past weeks, he's acted so natural, so casual as if he couldn't care less about the sex you've had. How can he just switch like that?

you : Are you drunk?

jungkook : 😂 😂 😂 😂 😂 😂

jungkook : A bit tipsy we went to a bar with the crew

That explains some of it.

jungkook : Was it too much?

you : Nono it’s fine

you : I just don’t know what to say

jungkook : Tell me what you want

jungkook : What you meant to ask me the other night when I so rudely interrupted you with a dumbass article

Well, shit.

It's just Jungkook. Honesty and shamelessness are the main keys of your friendship. However, you're not him and expressing your sexual desires as easily as he does is not innate.

jungkook : Don’t be shy just tell me

Fuck it.

you : I’d like it if you could be with me again like the other night

You can count the excrutiatingly painful seconds as they tick by. It's been fiveteen.

you :  😬

Now, fifty.

you :  😖 😖 😖 

Finally, he decides to spare you.

jungkook : Is being friends is not a problem anymore?

you : Idk i trust you you trust me

you : We communicate well most of the time

you : Last time wasn’t such a big deal was it? I feel like we’ll be fine

you : Don’t you think?

You're rambling. You need to stop rambling. It's one thing to be in constant panic mode with this shit -this you can deal with, you know yourself and you accept it- but Jungkook really doesn't need to know.

jungkook : Idk I guess you’re right

you : So when you come back are you going to consider it?

jungkook : No

What a dick. Toying with you, bringing you there to then, deny you. How dares he?

jungkook : I’ve made up my mind already

jungkook : You’ll have me if you show yourself convincing enough

you : like how?

jungkook : It’s not that hard 

jungkook : I love it when someone makes me feel like you really want me

jungkook : *they

Oh boy.

you : k ill try

You’re resolute to try. To try your hardest. It kills you, the idea that he somehow managed to have the upper hand in this. It feels like he's going to make you suffer. But the point of the matter, the only thing you care about anymore is the fact that you were wrong -he did enjoy the first time if he’s up for a second. Oh, and also, obviously, the fact that you are a couple of hours away from a devastating orgasm you've been craving for for weeks. 

You spend the whole day -luckily for you, you're not working- prepping you. Trimming and grooming. Exfoliating and moisturizing. And as you’re doing all that, your stamina is twitching in anxiety because, holy shit, it feels like it never stops. There’s always a thing to arrange, another one that wouldn’t let itself fixed and when was the last time you spent that amount of effort into looking (that) attractive for someone? Even for Namjoon, you did not.

You did a lot. You cared about him. Namjoon was always so class and handsome and you hated the idea of being an ugly potato attached to his side so you’d take care of yourself more than you would when completely single -just gotta be honest. But not as much. You’re not exactly sure why. Probably because Namjoon was attentive and sweet but not the same kind of lover. He wouldn’t feel you up as heavily as you remember Jungkook doing. He’s never specifically asked to see you with the lights on. He’d talk to you and listen and maybe that’s more what it was about. He would lean in and seem to be drinking in your appearance when you’d be having a good conversation. One where you’d get animated and passionate. You’re pretty sure your brains -no matter how lame you consider them to be next to his- were what he liked the most about you. He must have found you pretty. Surely. But you’d never really caught him giving you a longing stare from the other end of the sofa when you were not looking.

He’d call you pretty and ravishing when he’d come to pick you up for a date and you’d spent a lot of time dolling yourself up. But always the same way. Always the same words. Never anything specific to what you were wearing or whatever. And his eyes were not really looking, were they? It didn’t hurt your feelings nor your ego that much. Because there’s probably nothing more flattering for you to have someone like you for your mind rather than your appearance -the flimsy quite irrelevant thing that you don’t really have much control over. It was fine. And like everything that used to be fine, Jeon Jungkook had to make it a problem.

As you stare at your own reflection in the mirror, pinching your lips together to spread the lipstick more evenly, you’re reminded of the way his hot stare was burning you that night. You remember how every time you’d look his way in the dark, you’d see his big round eyes locked on you with the cute stars in it shining fondly. You have no idea how attracted he is to you physically. You have no idea if he is at all or it’s just a thing that he does. Maybe he likes you the way you like an ugly old picture of yourself. With time and fondness, it becomes sweet and special and you just like looking at it.

Maybe, it's a weird analogy.

More so given what he’d be doing to you, the words he was saying while looking at you like he did. You don’t know how to read this distinctive mind of his. It’s new territory. Not completely terrifying because there’s your guide, your best friend, walking you through it. But it’s like a new mansion you’re just visiting. So bright and light and welcoming, with so many doors all closed but not locked and you don’t know what’s behind any of them even though you’re so curious to figure it out. There’s all those new faces, secrets behind those doors. You hope he’ll open them to you. All of them. They’re holding, you're certain of it, mind-blowing surprises -if the other night, where you discovered an actual man instead of your little boyish baby of a friend, is anything to go by. And it’s wonderful, that idea. That after all this time, after being so sure of knowing the kid like you’ve crafted it from scratch yourself, there is still more to learn about him. New things for him to amaze you with.

“What are you doing?” Eun is watching you with a hand on the frame of the door, eyes blown wide and a weird stance. She looks about ready to flee like she’s witnessing something so unspeakable she is that close to jump on the phone and call the cops.

That’s rude. You’d frown if you were not so concern about munching up your freshly applied mascara. Fair enough, lately, you haven’t been exactly runaway material but the way she’s looking at you is plain blank offensive. 

“I’m just making myself pretty. Do I look weird to you?” Maybe you do. Maybe you overdid it a bit. 

She completely ignores your concern to jump on the exciting bait you did not even mean to throw. “What for? You have a date?”

“No, I don’t. It’s for my own, uh, enjoyment.”

Her face twists comically while she tsks in disdain. “Bitch, please.” Getting ruder by the second, she is. “You have a date. It’s not Namjoon is it?”

“No, not with Namjoon. But do I look too different, like strange-different?”

“You look gorgeous, babe. I was just surprised.”

“Oh okay, cool.” You decide to take her words for facts, panicking over potentially looking like a clownish try-hard is not what you need.

“So... A date? You little cachotière*.” Here, the nerves hit. You have been nothing but excited since the text conversation you had with Jungkook the night before but now, merely an hour before he’s supposed to be home, you begin freaking out.

It’s Eun and her overuse of the “d-word”. Because it’s not like that. At all. If it becomes a date then you have to rightfully so freak the fuck out. Thanks to her, even if it's not one, you start losing it. In your state of panic, while you observe yourself liquify in the mirror -it’s quite interesting to watch, you having a crisis in real time-, blanching in utter destress, another scary thought assaults you.

Jungkook lives across the short hall from here. He and Jimin and you and Eun are so close and comfortable around each other, you basically share one giant apartment, allowing yourselves to just barge in no matter how inappropriate the moment is. The whole floor is a constant open house. The probability of having Eun find out that you’re in fact sleeping over to their's is so high, it’s almost prophetic.

Shit. She’s going to ask so many questions. And of course, she won’t believe you if you say you dressed yourself up to the nines just to go play games with Jungkook. She’d think there would be something else to it. And she’d be right. But she doesn’t need to know just yet. You were blessed enough the other night, that she drunk herself to sleep with Jimin, knocked herself out so bad she couldn’t remember anything past the cake cutting. Not that you have or want to preserve secrets from her. It’s not really secrets. “Secrets” sounds like you’d purposefully want to withhold information from her from lack of trust. It’s not like that. It’s just whatever Jungkook and you are doing is yours. There are a lot of things you two never consider sharing with other people just because they are your thing.You two share a private garden and no one will ever be invited to visit it.

“Who is it?”

“I- just- it’s a bit soon to-“

“You don’t wanna say yet. Ok, I get it.” She says it with geniune sympathy, yet her glossy lips puckered in a little pout. “Do I know him?”

“Uh- possibly.” Her eyes widen for a second before they’re looking up to the roof, searching her brain for the full list of your common acquaintances -she’s understanding and respectful but that doesn’t mean she's not eaten up by curiosity.

After a while, as you ponder over your own image and consider wiping your whole face off of the makeup to just go with something more like your everyday self, the one Jungkook knows better, Eun gives up on the investigation and redirects her attention back to you, “Is he handsome?”

You don’t know how to answer her and end up giving an incoherent babbling and spilling of squeaky sounds that can only describe it better than words would. She’s smiling a wolf grin, picking up a lipstick from her personal shelf before taking a makeup remover tissue to drag over your already painted mouth. She applies, meticulously, the new taint she’s chosen. It’s a deep red, very sultry that gives you the look of a sexy vampire or maybe a succubus.

She gets it. Jungkook's tending to observe you is not the only reason you've worked so hard on yourself. He is so deadly handsome. You always knew but not felt it arouse anything within you. You saw him as that little brother of yours who’s grown so much into a very charming, universally attractive boy. But that night, with his hair -you’d never, in more than a decade of being his friend, seen his forehead and you’re oh-so glad you did not because horny-high-school-you would probably have freaked about it, who would think that eyebrows could do so much to someone's face- pulled back and his leather jacket, quirking his eyebrow and biting his lip and leaning around like he was some kind of James Dean. You don’t know how responsible are the orgasms -surely, they can have an impact on your perception-, or your thirst, but you’ve decided, observing him more attentively since that night, that he was one of the most beautiful men you’ve ever seen. Truly.

Also you can’t actively name who would be standing right next to him on the podium but that’s just a detail. A detail you won’t share with him more than you did last time because you don’t want his ego to inflate and explode right in your face. It wouldn’t be pretty nor pleasing. He's cocky enough already as it it.

Anyway, you just want to look beautiful because he, himself, is so much so. 

“I hope you’re aiming to get laid because with this magic...” Eun leaves the sentence pending, her sharp eyebrows high over her protruding eyes conclude it. You can’t control the widely telling grin drawing itself on your mouth.

“You’re gonna need a lot of convincing.” It’s the first thing he said as he saw you walked in through the cracked open door. You’d just sneaked your way through the whole length of their apartment, trying to not get caught by Jimin while having a mini attack because said Jimin was sitting right there, in the living room you had to pass by. He had headphones on and was so engrossed in whatever he was doing on his cellphone that he didn’t even notice you, staring at him like a deer caught in headlight, not even flinching when in your panic to run from the scene while luck was still on your side, you had knocked down a craft bag full of noisy ramen boxes. You hadn’t even picked it up, just rushing to the end of the hallway for Jungkook’s bedroom.

You don’t know what you look like right now. You feel awkward and dishevelled and quite exposed, standing in front of him in your fancy outfit while he’s in his pyjamas, looking up at you from the bed, with an unimpressed expression masking his face.

“You know I arrived 2 hours ago, right?” He is not genuinely upset, you can tell. But there’s a little edge to his tone. An honest curiosity. And maybe a relief. Maybe he thought you had changed your mind and hadn’t bothered letting him know about it.

“Yes, sorry. Mom called.” You say it with a bratty roll of your eyes as if you’re not left warm and fuzzy each time you hang up a phone call with her.

She’s lovely. You miss her often but not to the point of actually wanting her around -she’d pester and nag the life out of you if she were to see the state of your room and just the general way you chose to do things. And she talks so much. She has so much to say every time she picks up the phone to ring you. Everything about her and about your dad and the rest of the family and the rest of the neighbourhood and what the mayor has been up too and what her colleagues at work have been discussing about these days. It goes on and on and on and you understand that it comes from a place of her missing you dearly but when most of the times it is okay and a fairly entertaining way of wasting two hours doing nothing, you couldn’t care less about whatever the hell was going to be replacing the shop next to your uncle’s when the stupid story is delaying the event of tonight. But how could you tell her that? So you sat on the barstool, your forehead pressed onto your handbag (that you didn’t need but you were supposed to go out on a date so that fit better the narrative), shoe-clad feet bouncing nervously in the air, half-listening, half-dreading, humming noncommittal monosyllabic words into the phone, as Eun watched you from the sofa, staring with a beyond confused, low-key judgmental gaze, miming with all her body how you should hang up and head out. And that’s how you arrived two hours late when you meant to be in his bedroom before he even came back from the station.

You shrug, grimacing in a form of apology. But Jungkook knows your mom like his own and doesn’t hold you accountable for the lateness anymore, his face being recovered by a soft layer of fondness at the mention of her. “She said to tell you she thinks about you a lot and misses you. And to give you kisses too.” He chuckles at that and you match him, amused by the double meaning you now give to the term. You used to almost fear those innocent kisses -more subconsciously than not, it just wouldn’t come about, none of you needing to express your affection like that- and look at you now. About to get screwed by him. For the second time.

He is staring up at you with an intensity, you don’t want to get ahead of yourself and assume what it means but it is here. And you can't help but stare back, hoping to not show too much how bad you want to jump on him right now. Lain in bed like that, back pressed against his headboard, with a half unbuttoned white silky-like shirt, and his expression and his demeanour, you can see that under the cover his legs are taut and slightly parted: he looks like he’s expecting something. You. He’s been expecting you and you’re finally here and he’s tantalizing you with the meal he knows you want to consume. Tantalizing because no matter how sure you are that his expression means he still is on board and wants you, he doesn’t look willing to make a move. “So, as I was saying: a lot more convincing will be needed.”

“Well, I’m here already. Doesn’t that tell you I- like- want it?”

“Sure. But still it’s late and I’ve been travelling all evening and I’m so tired.” He feigns a yawn. “As you can see, I was going to sleep.” What an annoying little shit. He makes his eyes all big and sorry-looking, putting his mouth in a pout like he’s saddened. But you see the quirks of his stupid eyebrows. He has the “bullshit face”. It’s pretty self-explanatory. Whenever he has it on, and he has very little control over it by the way, you know he’s in for some bullshitting. Either it shows when he wants to get away with something he’s done or doesn’t want to admit it out loud, or he’s straight on wanting to mess with you. He has had that stupid face since he was fourteen and he pretended in that one conversation about porn and sexism that he shared the same opinion as you and yes, lesbian porn for male was wrong and disgusting. He didn’t believe a word of it, and this not because he was a big fan of the genre but because he wasn’t a big consumer of porn in general -which you didn’t know at the time. You just knew that he was lying because his face contorted in a way it never did before and that was suspicious as hell.

So here comes the bullshit face and you already know why. You’re in for some torture. Jungkook and his stupid competitive ass. While he doesn’t like competing in 'real' life with other people because he doesn’t like to win over them, he has no problem with you. He loves to make your life harder. He balances it out by being the best friend you've ever had but still, so aggravating.

“Guk, seriously, don’t be mean. I already made the first step the other day!”

“And then you avoided me for a week.” He says, totally unfazed.

“It wasn’t even a week.” You’re the one scowling now. Mumbling through button-shaped lips. “Seriously, I can’t do this...” There’s a flash of alarm blinking for a second on his face as he straightens up in his bed, the cover slipping completely from his torso, exposing all the golden skin peeking from the open shirt.

“Do what?”

“‘Convince you’. I can’t- like- seduce you or whatever.” You grumble like an upset kid and that’s pretty much what you feel like. It’s like your favourite toy, the one you’ve been wanting for many Christmas is just right here, within reach, but you won’t have it because you’re required to resolve an impossible math problem or something. It’s too hard. You already feel yourself burning from embarrassment, your heart is thumping in your temple and you just decide to give up, taking a few tentative steps backward, hand already reaching out for the handle when Jungkook jumps off of his bed to grab it. Standing so tall and broad, hovering you, his warm hand holding yours and the breeze of his perfume hitting your nostrils, you’re taken by a rush of excitation. It’s crazy what the context does to perception. He stood that way in front of you so many times but never have you felt so small, never have you found him so big and attractive because of it and that scent, you’ve smelled basically all your life -a soft flowery carress-, never made your head spin that way.

“Don’t leave!” His voice is a bit loud, almost desperate and the thought that he might be makes you smile internally. “Lemme help you.” He demands so gently, with the stars in his eyes as fervent supporters to his cause, there’s no way you’d say no. He could ask you anything when he’s looking and talking to you like that, with his warm hand now pressed to your neck, thumb caressing your cheek.

You nod your head once and he kisses you. As softly as he is, your hands clutch at his shirt way too intensely to match. He’s so gentle like you’re a tiny little thing he’s dreading at the idea to scare away. So different from the kisses you remember him giving you the other night. It’s lovely anyway. Tender as can be. Delicate and kind and when he pulls back to look into your eyes again, your heart warms up with all the love and adoration you have for this man. He really is your best friend, the most important person in your life that you had chosen and he makes you so happy.

“Is it okay?” He whispers so sweetly you want to wrap your arms around his neck and suffocate him with love. You nod again this time more dismissively because a scent in his breath has just interpellated you.

“Have you been drinking?”

He smiles cheekily, dipping his head down in guilt. “I had a shot or two.” You relish in the shameful tremble of his confession.

There’s this complimentary thing about you two. One would often compensate for the other's lacking. It’s never been conscious or anything but it’s always been there. You see the way he gulps visibly, you recognize the tiny blush of his cheeks sauntering to his ears, you know why he had those shots, and you feel the rush of confidence run through your veins because he is so nervous, you can see it now. Therefore, you have to tease. It’s only fair.

“You were not this nervous by text, were you?”

“Stop saying that, I’m not nervous!” He exclaims with passion but you both know he’s lying and it makes you laugh right in his face, uncaring of his pinching your cheek to make you stop. He’s just too cute and dumb.

“Keep that up and I really won’t be nice to you.”

Even if the grin remains on your face, you shudder from head to toes. His tone has dropped to a lower purr, his gaze is dark with a gravity that wasn’t there before. That's funny because it really feels like a deja-vu. Last time unrolled so similarly and you know what is supposed to happen now.

“You always say that.” He doesn’t say anything, keeps staring, engaging in an eye staring contest, daring you to not drop your own. “You threaten me but you never act on it.” You say quietly. You don’t know what comes over you, probably just the heat of the moment, but you regret almost instantly to be so reckless. You don’t want him to be merciless with you. You had a taste of him being fairly nice the other night and almost died. You’re terrified of him being mean. But here you are tempting him into doing just that.

Perhaps he, who knows you the best, reads you again like a book he’s written himself and he settles for being soft and lenient with you. He leans in to smash his lips to yours, now wet and demanding, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth before you even get to close your eyes. His hands holding your head firmly, his hips leaning forward making his thighs dig into you, his tongue greets for the briefest of moment your own, sending a direct message to your centre which you can feel clench around nothing. But before you can gather back your thoughts and try and meet him and work his mouth too instead of just letting him devour you, he’s let you go. All grip on you, any proximity allowing you to feel his warmth are gone. He’s so far the only thing that's still been linking you, the thin strip of saliva joining your mouths, snaps. You’re cold outside yet burning inside, heart erratically pumping in your chest, feeling dumb and confused and abused and revolted, because why would he already stop? Especially to step back and look at you like he’s decided he now wanted to be mean.

“I’ve helped you enough. Now it’s on you.” You gawk in silence, watching mindlessly as he proceeds on making his bed, laying the cover flat so he could hop back down on it.

“What does that mean?”

“Make me feel good. Remind me why I’m letting you have me when you’re being such a bitch.” You gasp at the choice of word. He’s never used it in front of you, not even in a joking manner -or maybe once or twice but he was talking about his roommate who happens to be one at times. Your astonishment is met with the greatest smirk. He’s having so much fun because he’s got the upper hand again. “Treat me better and I’ll be good to you when it’s your turn.”

And this is one of those moments you'd encountered so many times since you were a little girl. This instance where two options would be presented to you and you had to make a choice. An important one. One that you decided would define you and therefore, it needed to be the right one. Either you choose the easiest option, indulge in your fear of the unknown, turn into a coward, denying yourself what you really want because you’re scared. Or you carry your virtual balls, decide that even if you might fail, you will follow this terrifying path out of your comfort zone because you want the future you to be proud and thankful for you. Most of these times, you did not only think about you but also about the little boy with the bunny teeth and fluffy hair and big and soft wondering eyes which were always watching you, you couldn’t permit yourself to bend and plead because you wanted to inspire him to be strong and adventurous.

The boy's right there. Not so little anymore. Not needing any push nor any light to follow. But eyes still as big and soft, looking at you so expectantly, you recall those would never hurt you. You can face the shame. You can even face the embarrassment of not knowing what to do or try and end up doing wrong because it’s just Jungkook. He’d smile to heal your bruised ego and guide you gently the way he did before.

You step forward, carefully, as if he’s become the fragile being ready to fly away now. It's silly. The precaution is for you more than for him. Legs twitching slightly, eyes set on your every move, lips now hanging open as if he’s struggling to breathe, he doesn’t look whatsoever wanting to back away. He’s waiting for you. You slip your feet out of your shoes in a swift motion, before kneeling on the bed, one hand setting on his knee. You see his Adam's apple jump up and down and you wonder if he doesn’t wish he had downed more than two shots. He keeps switching from a nervous wreck to a hot “alpha” dude and you don’t understand how you're supposed to deal with that.

When you look down, pondering over your next move, you notice the blue shorts he has on. You know them for you’ve seen him wearing them multiple times before. They’re meant to be rather loose. At least you thought they were. But as you gawp at them, you’re struck by how tight they look on his legs. They end way higher than they should because of his position, his thighs filling them up to the point of straining -if he keeps them for too long you’re sure he’ll have a thin indent along his skin. His thighs look so meaty and the part just before his knees, lacking fat rendering his monstrous muscles enhanced. You press your own legs on reflex. You had no idea a man's legs could be so attractive.

The glorious view finishes to urge you on. Trailing forward, your hands set on the object of your new obsession, fingers loving the warmth of his skin and dipping in the flesh. He feels wonderful under your touch.

Would he let you bite them a bit? Maybe if you ask nicely, he will. You shake the thought off. It’s not the plan right now. You don’t even know if he’d like that and you’re supposed to please him.

You raise yourself from the bed, keeping your balance thanks to the grip you have on his thighs and get even closer to take a seat on the left one. Jungkook looks so handsome from up close. You’re met with his soft skin and pretty shades. There’s the rather deep scar he got on his cheek one of those times when you were fourteen and you were practising riding your bikes on the low stairs in front of the subway station. You remember how scary it was to have to entangle him from his fucked up bike with half of his face pissing blood. Terrifying. But it left him with this eternal scar, charming along with his boyish features, and memory of a not-so-pleasing moment but precious friendship. You love it even more because he lies each time he's asked about it, telling crazy stories that'd never happened, while sporting a cheeky smile only you understand. And there are his beauty marks scattered here and there like they’re playing a game of hide-and-seek. You find your favourite one hiding under his bottom lip, lean in to place a kiss on it.

When you back away his eyes are shut, his face so relaxed, he looks so peaceful and happy with this tiny curve of his pink lips -lips that you notice are smeared with a faint dark red you know to be the lipstick you're wearing-, you want to squeal from how grateful you are to have him like that.

Jungkook scrapes his throat when he opens his eyes again, shifting a bit under you as if to get more comfortable and you’re reminded that he’s waiting. He’s been waiting patiently and your clit from down here pulses as to remind you that you also need something.

So you start moving. Hands pressed to his shoulders, loving how sturdy and big he feels under you, you grind languidly along his thigh. You feel it building already. You've lost the manner, the way to do this for it to be nice, but it's so hot: he is, his breath on your lips is, the room, everything is. Soon the intense gaze you’re sharing with him is broken as his head falls backward, all teeth out from how amused he is. You don’t stop moving, no matter how confusing his reaction is, because the contact on your clit feels incredible. It shoots a succesion of electric shocks through you, blanking your mind momentarily each time, there’s no way you’re stopping because he wants to make fun of you again. 

“So I tell you to please me and that’s what you come up with?” He asks once his fit of chuckles have quiet down. 

Breathlessly, you counter, “You said you liked that.” You’re not offended about his change of mood. You couldn’t care less. Not when you’ve figured out exactly how to move your hips to treat your cunt, when the motion has come so easy to perform you can now speed up comfortably. 

“I do but when you’re done, you’ll have to try harder than that.” You nod, eyes closed and eyebrows furrowed. He takes hold of your hips. He’s not guiding, just letting his hands there as to feel you, encourage you. “For now, just make yourself come, babe.” Your eyes open again on his, the latter having a lot to say. You read them outright. He wonders if it’s ok to call you that. He apologizes every time he does it by accident so it feels a bit weird, unfamiliar. But the pet name, for some reasons you don’t care to elucidate, renders you all putty and giddy. He can probably feel it in the way you melt even more in his embrace, looking up at him with large eager eyes. 

“I promise I’ll do better after.” It slips out of your mouth straight from your hazy heart and Jungkook catches it with eagerness. You sound so tiny and lenient. Almost pitiful. 

“You’re doing great, baby.” He assures you right away, kissing your jaw with way more tongue than lips. “You’re so sexy.” You moan over him, from the pleasure building, the wetness on your skin, the praise, the name. Your fingers slip under the open folds of his shirt, too lazy and incompetent to unfasten the buttons, but so eager to grant your eyes with the glorious vision of his thick chest, they drag the tissue down as much as it’d go, not caring the least about how the stretch might hurt the skin around his neck. “Are you close?”

“Yes.” You moan in his ear. His hands on your covered hips glide along your thighs to sneak under the skirt of your dress and grab the flesh the find there. 

“You know one thing that I would really like you doing for me?” His voice, texture of honey, meets the crook of your neck and coats your heart in a thick, warmth layer.

“Tell me.” You pant in his face without an once of embarrassment left. You’re rutting like a horny bitch on his thigh, begging him to tell you how you could please him. How he brought you there, how he is doing all this is beyond your comprehension but you're loving every aspects of it.

“I'd really like you to cover my cock with the pretty lipstick you have on.”

Your lips press against one another. May Eun be blessed.

“I’d love that.” His tongue is at your collarbone for a devilishly short instant. “'Will show me how desperate you are for it.”

“Ok, I will.” He smiles to you, from his bunny smile to his glittering eyes. “Can you kiss me? Like ear-earlier?” His mouth is on yours before you get the question fully out. You moan into him, finding out this is the tiny push you needed. As he licks and sucks, his fingers digging deeper in your thighs, you get off both from the friction and his kiss. You’re almost there. You can feel the heat spreading. You sneak one of your hand down his chest to his crotch to get a grasp of his cock. It’s so hard and so hot under your palm. So hot and wet in your mouth. And you are coming undone, hips snapping on his leg, eyes shut and lips open only to leave out a small, broken whine. The pressure against your clit feels a bit too intense, a bit raw and makes you jerk and wince, until Jungkook wraps his arms around you and welcomes you into his chest, kissing the top of your head while whispering something you don’t really catch through the ringing in your ear.

It’s decided. If he’s ok with it you’ll come back to his bed for all your sexual needs. Rubbing yourself on a pillow never felt that good and he hasn’t done much to you, just being there and turning you on in a way that shouldn't be allowed. When you withdraw from his lap, you’re cringing visibly from the sensitivity, movements slow and careful, face contorted. Jungkook is watching you with undisguised enjoyement, a grin biting on his lower lip. 

“So I gather you like thigh riding too, now?” You shrug, red in the cheeks, avoiding his gaze. He doesn’t comment further. He just sits there, the tips of his fingers grazing mindlessly the thigh you just rode. The other set of fingers toying with the hem of his dishevelled shirt. You watch him from under your lashes, not ready to meet his eyes just yet, resulting in you having to face the prominent bulge of his crotch. The moment lasts for an eternity. All you can think about is why he won’t give it to you already. “If there’s something that you want, you should know how to ask for it.”

Aggravation is heavy on your temples. You take the time to think about it and quite frankly you don’t have it in you to start arguing for something you both know that you both want. You’re not that petty. He can have his stupid win if he wants. 

“Strip already so I can- suckyouoff.” How is it so difficult to say out loud? You’ve never thought yourself to be that prude but here you are, having to say the words, and you realize you’re so unfamiliar with them if not for the erotic novels you used to read back in high school. While he, on the other hand, says all those obscenities with such perfect phlegm.

His slender fingers raise to his shirt, toying with the first button and after an excruciatingly long time which tastes of pure torture, they unfasten it. They aim for the next one but just stop there. You’re boiling, shaking, this close to jump on him and rip it off already. Decency and, to a bigger extent, pride keep you from doing so. He would like this too much.

“That won’t do, ___.” You can't help the long sigh that escapes you.

“Remember what I said? Convince me.” He says again, stressing the syllables as to make sure you get them right this time. He's pushing you so far. Too far. You don't get why he would challenge you this much. He was gentler the other night, more complaisant. Maybe it turns him on. Maybe he's not a total dick and actually likes to be worshipped rather than simply enjoying your misery. You do want to please him. Therefore, with a trembling voice, breath shorten by timidity, you pronounce aloud the words you mean but hurt to admit.

“Can I please have your cock?” Those are the magic words. In a blink of the eyes, his shirt is thrown away, one of his hand sets on his crotch, massaging it softly while the other reach for you, open palm welcoming you forward. You fit yours in it, Jungkook presses the inside of your fingers to his mouth before he drags you to him. Once you've kneeled in between his opened legs, your hand slip from his. You look up, gnawing on your lip. “Can you like- guide me through it?”

“You've never given head before?”

“I did but- I don't know. I want it to be good.” He smiles wide. That big, big grin that shows off both his up and down lines of teeth, with his dumb nose all scrunched up.

He nods, observing you quietly. And you reach for the waistband of his shorts. You mean to just drag it down to his thighs but he takes upon himself to strip completely out of it. You have no idea how he does that, standing fully naked there, in front of you -who's still fully clothed, by the way. You're not complaining; when he's looking this good, it makes it rather understandable. He looks perfect. Perfect but not in a linear, boring way. In a shockingly stunning way.

You've never had the full experience. You had the massive thighs, the broad shoulders and lean chest, his pretty face and opulent fluffy hair on top of it. But all put together, he's a deadly piece of art. Hypnotizing. Shaped like an Adonis. He looks so handsome. Gorgeous.

And of fucking course, as any piece of art, not a detail is left neglected. He's this remarkable to his very sex.

It's so fucking ridiculous. And unfair.

Quick before letting yourself the time to look at it for too long and get intimidated, you wrap your hand around it. Fairly long and lean, fair with a blushy tip. So soft and warm and hard in your hand. Such a pretty cock. The thought plagues your mind but you're smart enough to not say it aloud. It's one of the weirdest thought you've ever had, you realize.

It's true though. So true. So pretty it just pulls you in.

You kiss the head a few times, slowly, before you slide to the length. Walking your way up with your tongue, you hear him hiss aloud, see his abs contracting in spasms.

The tip of his cock is so tender. Flushed, silky and soaked, tasting and feeling so nice on your tongue, on your lips. Your eyes meet his. You're just curious to see how sweet his face looks when he's letting out all those tiny whimpers. You see him grimace, frown before he closes his eyes shut and throw his head back, blocking entirely the view you're giving him and you're wondering if you're doing this right. He's not giving you any guidance like he said he would. He's not that loud, quite quiet even, if you consider how talkative he was the other night. He's not bucking his hips uncontrollably in your wet heat like you remember your ex, Taehyung, used to do.

As you suckle on the head, dipping the tip of your tongue in the slit, your left hand holding him firmly upward while the right one, curiously tests its way down, caressing his balls. There's a switch hidden there apparently. Each time the tip of your fingers dip there, he leaves out a languid groan.

“You're not telling me what to do.” You complain between two deep inhale, raising up. Your lips feel hot, tingly, and you imagine them swollen and red. You imagine it's the reason why he's staring at them the way he is.

“I don't need to tell you anything. You're- You're doing perfect.” It makes you roll your eyes. His voice is tensed, his words stuttered but he might be faking it. He's not even cursing or anything. His hands not gripping your hair. Awfully disappointing. Perfect in your mouth but disappointing around you. Even more so, when he stops you from leaning to work your mouth on him again. “You wanna give me more?” You stare silently, not having a clue of where a yes would take you. “Wanna try to ride me?”

It’s the best sensation you’ve ever felt. Sitting on his chest like it's your throne, having him look up at you with the giant marbles he has for eyes, enchanted and eager. “Should I eat you out first?” You’re soaked. You’ve been feeling yourself drip since you tasted for the first time a drop of his precum, you don’t need to be eaten out. You know what’s to come. You’re about to have him fill you up again. After all this time craving for it, dreaming day and night about it. You wouldn’t want to delay it any longer.

When Jungkook gets busy grabbing a condom from the nightstand, you take the opportunity to throw your dress over your head. You’re not sure why he hasn’t hinted at taking it off yet. His wandering hands have been teasing the skin under it non stop but he’s never tried to actually take it off.  

“Jungkook, why not take my dress off?”

He looks up from the wrapper he’s been struggling with, confusion shining in his eyes. His mouth opens, about ready to answer but he catches sight of your form, naked except for the delicate black lace lingerie you carefully picked. He’s never seen you naked with proper lightening, nor any close to this state of undressing as the last time he’s seen you in a bikini, well, you can't remember but it was probably in late middle school. He seems to like it. It’s the special gaze again. The one of a lover. The ardent one, dark, almost teary as his hands graze up your sides so lightly it leaves a painful scorching along the skin. “You’re beautiful.”

“Thanks.” You mean to hit his chest to chastise his over-exaggerated gravity but you can’t deny his sincerity and your hand simply lands flabbily instead. “Can I keep my, uh, underwear?” He just nods, doesn’t get cocky or mocking, eyes still bathing in your appearance, and a crazy thought occurs. Could it be possible that he sees you the same way you see him?

You don’t like to talk in leagues. It’s ridiculous and pointless and for the most part inaccurate. You know your worth. You’re a good person with a lot to offer, fairly pretty on a good day, with some flaws, of course, but nothing that outrageous, just like most people. But Jungkook is quite, he’s quite phenomenal. Friendship put aside, you can see how much of a surreal deal he is. And physically -even though it doesn't usually matter to you but since it’s about sleeping together for the sake of sex rather than feelings, it kind of does matter here-, he’s beyond anything you have ever seen, in real life or on a screen. He’s something else. Something else from another world. A perfect dream of a perfect sculptor brought to life. And he’s looking at you like he doesn’t know that, like he can’t see that and he believes it’s you the piece of art.

“Sure. You’re- It looks so pretty on you.” His voice has lost some of the heavy tension from before. He's smoothing the tissue under his fingers, studying the quiet intricacies in the pattern.

“Thanks. I just bought it.” His dark orbs snap up.

“For me?” You could lie. You could and he would never know about it but you want to tell him the truth. You nod. Shrugging slightly to pretend casualty. Kindly, he whispers, “Thank you, babe. I love it.”

Maybe it's the timid blush on your cheeks that manages to change his heart. Either way, it’s like he finally thinks you’ve done enough and don’t deserve to be waiting any longer. However, now it’s your turn to delay the action a bit. Placing your hand on his just wrapped firmly around his cock, you prevent him from covering it up just yet. There’s still precum shinning at the slit, and the head looks so sweet, you just need to know if it’d feel as good against your clit as it did on your tongue. It does. It’s soft and sleek, warm, it toys so pleasingly with your button and the visual, the visual is sinful. The cherry on top is the expression you catch on his face when you look up. Jungkook is as mesmerized as you are by the sight.

“I want you now, Guk.” It takes him a good five seconds during which he gauges your gaze. You’re not sure what he meant to find there. Doubt maybe? Disappointment? Probably. Disappointment matching his own for he seems to drag on the moment he separates your two sexes to proceed on slipping the condom on. You feel it too. The almost dread. There’s a vivid image of him jerking himself off against your clit that blinks furiously behind your eyelids. Fuck. It doesn’t help to see him tug at his cock and manipulate it between those beautiful veiny hands of his.

“Up.” You obey forthwith, pushing on your knees to let him place the tip just under you. His free hand push the crotch of your panties to the side, managing to sneak a couple of fingers between your lips. It makes him smile when he sees you unwittingly bucking your hips forward. “You control it all, ok? It’s like for my thigh, you just do what feels good to you, yeah?”

You nod. The rational part of your brain is freaking out but the greedy glutton that is the other side jumps on the occasion. Literally. In one swift motion, you've downed yourself completely on him, taking his cock entirely in, you’re almost positive you can feel him in your womb. It has him gasp loudly, cursing under his breath as his hands fly to your hips to squeeze them meanly. You don’t know if it’s a manifestation of a brusque and unexpected rush of pleasure or if you’ve hurt him as much as you hurt yourself. He should have done it. He’s the one that knows how to get you off. He gives you the power for five seconds and you manage to hurt the both of you with your incompetence and stupid hormones. It's not a good time to give up though. Not when he still has the steamiest kisses for your collarbones. You start rising up slowly this time, it’s decided you’re keeping it slow. It’s easier for you and brings you progressively to a more comfortable fit. Also as you take your time to free every inch and take them back in one by one, you get to feel him graze your walls. It’s a wonderful sensation. Being that filled up. Being on top of this man who’s still holding you like you’re holding his faith between your hands and he’s so willing to know what you’ll decide to do with it.

Lucky for him, you're feeling merciful. It’s hard not to when through the layers of sweat and crimson covering him into your lover, you still catch glimpses of your best friend. The cute little boy, forever the cure to your loneliness and adversities, the one person you would give up your whole life and its aspirations for. Even your family, you care so much about them, love them so dearly but you’re still marked by that time you had to come to the realization that your life was your own and you had to disappoint them by going against what they wanted for you just because it didn’t match your vision. But Jungkook, Jungkook could ask anything from you, anything and you’d give it to him. You’d give up on anything that’s ever meant something to you. Because he is everything. He's all the meaning your life owns. You’re not sure if it’s the right time but it’s there, sitting on his cock, riding him minutely that you feel a rush of utter love and adoration for the one friend that possesses your happiness since you were little. He's so sweet to have never withheld it from you but you know it depends on him. You could cry just meeting his pretty eyes looking back at you with as much fondness as your heart feels.

You’re getting too sappy, it’s ridiculous. You gather it comes from the pace, nice but not high enough to have you two focused entirely on the pleasure. Therefore you proceed to mix it up as much as your body would allow you. Switching the speed, the movements, rotating your hips instead of rising them, going back to jumping on it, just guiding yourself by his reactions, the quiet curses, the kneading of your flesh under his hands, the wincing of his features. He’s so hot. So sexy. You can’t keep your eyes off of him. You don’t even deliberately control your hips anymore. It’s just your body following closely Jungkook's advice. Doing whatever feels good.

“Guk, I’m close.” His eyes which had been closed for the past few minutes from the deep grinding of your hips against his pelvis suddenly shoot open. They’re not soft nor gentle anymore. All dark and intense again.

He grabs your face in his hand, the thumb digging in your left cheek as the rest of his fingers press the other one. Pressing his mouth hard to yours he asks, “Will you come for more?” He's harsh, voice severe as he doesn't speak but growl, sending an electric jolt to your spine. Soon the idea that there might be even more hidden wherever that Jungkook comes from is sending liquid fire to your cunt.

“Yes, yes, I will!” You gasp, blinking a tear down your cheek. He notices it and let his grip on your face to wipe it away. You’re about to come. You’re so fucking close. You can tell the ball of your orgasm has reached its maximum size, it just needs something, one little something to burst and annihilate everything else. “Why?” His hand is back to the side of your face, not rigid like before instead warmly cupping it. Eyes searching for yours, he presses, “Why is that? Baby, tell me please.”

“Cause you’re so goo-uh”

“Me or my cock?” He chuckles against your hair and you wonder how the fuck he has enough brains left to make jokes, when he’s that deep inside of you and must be, has to be, as close as you are.

“B-both” That makes him laugh again, that same mean chortle.

“Yes,” He’s moaning it so languidly. He relishes in the idea. “Shit- come here.” Jungkook presses down on your lower back, you follow leniently, like clay in his hands, laying entirely on top of him. He helps you raise your ass up higher and once you meet the perfect position to take it, he starts thrusting upward hard, slowly but brutally, each time you can hear the loup clap of his hips against your skin, you’re pretty sure it’s going to hurt tomorrow but for now, it feels fabulous.

It’s so rough and it feels like you’ve been going at it forever. The girth is dragging the ring of your hole along with the movement and that stimulation alone is electrifying. You’re almost there.

“Tell me- talk to me,” Desperation is laced closely to his tone now. It fits him so well, you're loving it. “Tell me y-you’ll come back to me for m-more, please.” He’s losing it, you can hear it in his tremble, his cute stutter. And the grunts he’s leaving between each needy word sound animalistic.

“I will, Jungkook.” It comes out before you even get to think the confession over. But as it does, you realize you mean them entirely. “I’ll always come back, you just, ah, you fuck me so well. So fucking good, your big cock always-” A particularly strong thrust, resembling more of a spasm, pushes a new tear down your cheek. “fills me up so good, you- no one has ever-“

“Fuck. No one has ever what?”

“Fucked me this good, shit.” Shockingly enough it’s your own words, filterless, genuine and born from the fabulous heat of this moment, that suffice to push your orgasm to the edge and make it explode and invade your whole being, body and mind. You don’t even take notice when Jungkook ends up coming, blinded and rendered deaf by your own pleasure.

It's when your erratic heart starts to calm down, and your muscles to relax, melting calmly into Jungkook’s body who’s welcoming you so kindly, not complaining about the heat or the weight or the stickiness, you gather he came too.

It’s incredible this sensation. Not that you’re proud of it but being taken over by pleasure so much so to render you selfish and clueless of your every surrounding, even your lover, it’s never happened before. You wonder if that’s not the precise reason why none of your before-Jungkook orgasms can compare.

As you land back safely on his chest, you're only granted a few minutes with his agitated heart beating under your cheek and his comforting warmth before your surroundings reappear to you, obnoxiously reminding themselves to existence. “Oh my god, Jimin!” You whisper yell in a theatrical gasp. It just makes Jungkook laugh. This moron.

“S’fine, he has Eun to discuss it with.” You raise up, fighting the fatigue, just to glare at him. It's the same stupid argument as last time. Except this time, it's so fucking worse. You still don't get how casual he can be about this. “I don’t care. Do you?”

a/n : Phew. That was a big chunk. If you made it this far, i thank you immensely. I’m sorry if the editing is a bit off, i’ve been looking at this piece of work for too long and my head is torturing me so yea, soz. What did you think? Tell me all your thoughts!! There’s still one chapter to go (but i don’t know when it’ll be up - i have other little spooky projects to attend to, i hope you guys don’t mind). ANYWAY. A beautiful week-end to you guys, kisses, love & 🍗🍜. :)

tag list : @lavscenery @busansgloss @batakookie @jwlmnbt @somewhereinthestarss @amanda-deann @feminist-goddess

[connordechartrk800]

I Won't Leave You

A/N: so I'm still recovering from depression but honestly it's getting worse and I really just wanted to distract myself with writing since I've been reading all the comments on Wattpad and the post I posted on here (of why I’m not updating), which made me feel better. This will have some of my personal experiences so idk, because I'm upset? Anyways, I hope you all beautiful (yes you don't doubt me) people are having a nice day, thank you so much I literally love you all.

~*~*~

Honestly fuck everything, fuck the world. It clearly hates you, always wanting to make you suffer so much. It's not fair, honestly why? Does God want you dead? Why doesn't he just hit you with a truck already and call it over? Instead he rather just make you suffer like some reality TV show, he wants the tea (I now see Shane Dawson being God oml) the juicy shit. Wow thanks God, I thought you loved me.

And having your heartbroken by the person you loved is literally the worse feeling ever. It's such a heavy painful dark experience to ever feel, you just feel so empty and shattered. You wish (s)he didn't pay you like that, you weren't dating but holy fuck you loved them. (S)he made you feel happy and alive.

(S)he made you feel so many things, good and bad at the same time, they helped you get through it though. You let them into your life, and made a connection and love (yes I mean sex too). You loved them so much, they loved you too. But, they weren't actually interested in a relationship only just for sex, but you stayed because you loved them.

You stayed for seven months and you began to become distant. Them not answering you when you needed them, them swiping right on your best (ex) friend, making promises only to be broken, and so much more. Yet you stayed, they helped you with your accident (I won't be mentioning but you can make up one) they really did. Now, they're hurting you with empty promises and having major trust issues. You missed the old version of them, wishing you could be more but really nothing but friends. It hurt you.

You then finally left, sick and tired of them. But it hurt, it honestly feels like a break up. They promised that they'll never leave you but they lied and you just realised. You are broken, but they're okay. Really they never cared if you just left them like you did. But, you can't go back even if they made you feel better and numbed the pain away. You can not allow yourself to go back to them, you want to recover.

You walk into the station, heart feeling empty and honestly just wishing to go home. You don't have the energy to be here. You sigh as you sit on your chair, turning on your computer to read some articles or stories. You scroll past a lot of romantic ones, feeling you might have another break down if you do.

"Good morning, Y/N."

You turn around to face the Android, his smile bright and beautiful. You smile weakly as you turn back around to your computer, not taking interest in him. He seems confused, you usually greet him better than that. Rude? No. He knew something is wrong, he scanned you obviously.

"Y/N, you're not okay. Are you?" He ask softly making you shrug. "You are heartbroken." He spat, making you bite your lip feeling your heart shatter by the realisation of his words. You try to hold back the tears, replaying the memories in your mind of them.

"It's complicated." You whisper, softly. You're trying to remain calm, not have another breakdown. Connor can tell you're about to break any second, he grabs your hand and slightly tugs it. You look up confused, you pull your hand away not wanting that reassurance.

"Please." He whispers to you. This made you break, you stand up as you walk away from him and head away into the bathroom.

The tears streaming down your face, your heart shattering, memories of the, flashing through your mind. You push the bathroom door open violently as you shut it behind you. Then that's it, that's where you began to breakdown. You cried, tears falling rapidly, your breathing ragged, hands shaking so violently.

You look towards the sink as you turn the tap as the water streams down the metal bar. You grasp the water as you wash your face, trying to clear the tears. Your cries silent, only for you to hear. You then look up facing your reflection in the mirror. You see a different version of yourself, a more angry and shattered self.

Before you knew it you heard glass shattering and a striking pain tingling in your fist. You look into the mirror, broken pieces crashing onto the ground surrounding you. Blood tickling down your fist and onto the floor, drop by drip creating a pool.

You're surrounded by your own broken self.

You then break down sobbing as you turn your back against the wall, sliding down hugging yourself. Your body is shaking, it's like you're having a panic attack. You feel like you're dying from this heartbreak, you wish you were because suffering from it fucking sucks.

You then feel something touching your arm, you flinch as you quickly look up facing a pair of hazel brown eyes. Connor there, touching your arm, holding it in a some sort of a supportive way. You didn't even hear him come in due to being distracted. He shows a painful glance at you, you hated that. You pull your arm away as you wipe your tears with your sleeve.

"Please leave." You whisper with a croak in your voice.

"I'm not leaving you."

You roll your eyes at him.

"I heard that before."

Silence, it was thick. Connor still with you, you wishing him to leave but secretly wanting him to stay.

"Well, I'll repeat it again. I will never ever leave you Y/N, I promise you." He says, with so much certainty in his eyes. You wanted to believe him, but you can't. Not after what they did to you. He grabs your bleeding hand as he begins to scan it.

"How can I trust you?" You ask as he looks up at you, finishing scanning.

"You won't for awhile, because of how damaged you are by the wrong people. But trust earns time at a devastating time like this. And hopefully you'll trust me, because I really deeply care for you." He says making you show a sad smile. "You have sprained your wrist, please don't hurt yourself again. Because I will scan you for any injuries."

"I can't tell if that's a good thing or invade of privacy." You mock.

"I want you safe. I hate seeing you hurt, it makes me upset that you're hurting especially after your accident." He says making you shrug your shoulders as you look down. Connor grasp your hands gently, being careful of your sprained wrist. "You may be thinking I'm lying to you but I'm not. I will never use you like they did, I know how happy they made you feel but if they make you sad like this then it's best to leave them. You deserve to be happier without them, you have better people to spend your time on. I'll be with you when you need me, okay. I'm just a call away, please promise me you'll call me. And I swear I'll come running to you. I want no... I need to help you because you deserve to be happy. I hate seeing you like this. I love you Y/N."

You were stunned, really. You couldn't wrap your head around his words. You bite your lip as you look down again, you can't tell if he's telling you the truth or not but fuck you're scared. You don't want to get hurt again. Connor notices this as he held your knees with a comforting smile.

"I'll take it slow, but please don't hesitate." Connor then removes his hand from you as he stands up dusting himself off as he begins to walk away.

Before both of you knew it you grabbed his hand tightly, he turns to face you. Your eyes red and puffy from crying, hair a mess. You looked so broken, you were the mirror you shattered. He turns around to face you.

"Please don't leave me like they did." You whisper as he smiles, he then pulls you into a hug as you then let it out. Crying in front of him. He places his arms around your back tracing circles to reassure you.

"I won't leave you."

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Three Hundred Fifty-Two: An Open Magazine ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Hyūga Neji ] [ SasuHina, death, cancer ] [ Verse: Best Years of Your Life ] [ AO3 Link ]

This has to be one of the worst days of her life.

It all started with a phone call from her father. Her aunt - his deceased brother’s wife - had lost her battle with cancer and passed away overnight. As devastating as it was, she knew Neji would be taking his mother’s loss far harder. Now without either of his parents, he’s an orphan. Grown, sure...but a lost parent makes anyone feel like a lost child. Hinata hadn’t lost a family member since her mother when Hanabi was born, so...she couldn’t quite understand that loss now. But even so, the news received at ten past seven in the morning was how her day started...and it just didn’t let up.

Deciding to head into the city to be with her cousin and family, Hinata quickly got out of bed. Her morning routine of checking her phone showed the now-typical barrage of negative news on Twitter, only further degrading her mood. She tripped over her roomba and dropped her breakfast all over the floor. And as if having sensed the impending negativity, her plants along her tiny apartment balcony looked a bit withered and sick.

Wonderful.

Touching them up with some water and fertilizer, she hoped they’d last until she got home...probably pretty late. Otherwise, she didn’t have time to try her hand again at breakfast, and looking up what might be wilting her beauties would have to wait.

Pulling on her favorite white and lilac jacket, she’d scooped up her keys, shouldered her purse, and made her way out of the apartment to the garage below and her waiting car.

Born and raised in one of the large coastal cities, Hinata had abandoned it come adulthood. There were too many tearing memories to stay, and as much as she loved her hometown...the smog, the crowds, and the crime was enough for her to pack up and move to another smaller, quieter, it not more boring town two hours inland. Sure, she isn’t getting as much business as she might in the big city with her architectural degree, but to her...the peace and quiet are worth it.

But the rest of the Hyūga family remained in town, hence her needing to return. Her father’s tech repair business is rooted there, Hanabi is finishing up school, and Neji has his law career. His mother had been retired on her husband’s life insurance, but...well, no one is immune to medical bills. They’d all been chipping in, hoping she’d pull through.

Fate, however, isn’t swayed by human wishes.

The entire ride was done in silence, Hinata too full of sorrow to abide the radio or her mp3 player. It just felt wrong to break the quiet in the wake of her mourning. Instead, she wordlessly went over memories of her aunt in her mind. Most were happy...some not so much. But they brought her a small amount of comfort, knowing that her aunt had gotten to live a fairly full life, all things considered...with plenty of happy moments. Perhaps less so the past few years, but...they have to count their blessings.

...but that’s when it happened.

Eyes almost zoned out, Hinata snapped to attention at a loud bang, the entire car jolting and making her scream in surprise. Slamming on the brakes, she thankfully kept the car straight and upright, pressed back into her seat with a hammering heart and empty lungs.

...what the hell?!

Sitting and listening as the car sat idling, she tried to identify any other sounds, but...nothing. Only once a full minute passed with nothing else did she gingerly undo her seatbelt, hands shaking as she got herself out of the car, intending to check under the hood.

...but she quickly realized that wasn’t the problem.

The car jostled a bit more than usual when she stepped out, and a glance showed the now-bare rim of her front driver’s side wheel.

...her tire...exploded.

Gaping at it, she looked back, seeing the shreds of the tire then scattered all over the roadway. It...it…? Holy shit! Did she run over something? Was it just a faulty tire? Slumping back against her vehicle in both shock and despair (she didn’t have a spare tire...or even a tire iron…), Hinata did her best to stay calm, burying her face in her hands.

...okay. Call her father. Have him send...someone. She’d made it about halfway there, so...an hour to get her, and then an hour back into the city.

...she’d be fine.

Digging out her phone, she powered on the screen, opening up her contacts and selecting Hiashi’s number.

...it didn’t ring.

Drawing a deep breath, she looked to the phone, and saw...no bars. No signal.

Nothing.

Of course. Of course! Now she’ll have to wait for someone to drive by, take pity on her, and hopefully not kidnap her, what with her being out here alone, with no phone, and no way to escape.

Tossing herself back into her car, she put on her flashers...and prepared to wait.

...ten minutes later, we find her staring blandly through the windshield...only to perk up at a noise.

Someone’s coming…!

Gasping, she scrambles out of the car, carefully standing out of the road and waving. It’s some red, fancy sports car she couldn’t begin to tell you the make or model of, given her complete disinterest in cars. But it slows, and she wilts in relief.

Hopefully they’re here to help, and not...hurt.

Pulling up behind her, the vehicle powers off and a man steps out. He looks about her age, flyaway dark hair and even darker eyes making for a rather broody-looking (and admittedly handsome ) face. “...you all right?”

“N-no,” she admits, loosely hugging herself. “My tire, it just…”

“Oh...was that yours all over the road?”

“Y...yeah…”

He walks around to examine the wheel. “...I take it you don’t have a spare?”

“No...I kept meaning to get one, but…”

“Yeah, I know how that goes. Take it you’re heading to the coast?”

“Yes, um...long story.”

“Need a lift? Or are you waiting for someone?”

“No, my - my phone has no signal. If you wouldn’t mind, I...would greatly appreciate a ride into town.”

“Yeah, sure thing. Here...let’s get your stuff, pull it off the road, and lock it up.”

Once the car’s situated and properly settled, he holds out a hand. “Name’s Sasuke, by the way.”

The name rings a very distant bell, shaking his grip slowly. “Hinata. Thanks again for your help.”

“No problem.”

Hinata settles sheepishly on the passenger seat. The car smells brand new, impeccably kept and clearly rarely driven. Seems he was out on a joyride when he passed by. The radio powers back up with the engine, but Hinata doesn’t refute it. With her frazzled nerves on top of...everything else, the background noise is actually rather nice.

“What brings you into the big city?” Sasuke asks as he pulls back onto the road.

“Oh, um...m-my aunt passed away last night, so…”

“Oh, shit...I’m sorry.”

“It...it’s fine. We knew it was coming. C-cancer.”

He gives her a somber glance. “...it’s nasty business.”

“...yeah. S-so, um...I wanted to go be with my family. They all live in town, so…”

“And then of course your car dies. When it rains it pours, right?”

“...right. So...I’m s-sure glad you drove by. Today’s been enough of a disaster…”

The rest of the hour passes with conversation, starting idly before slowly getting a bit more personal. Hinata, to her own honest surprise, dives right in despite her reserved nature. Maybe it’s having a distraction after her horror of a morning. Or...maybe she’s just lonely.

...maybe both.

Either way, Sasuke takes her to her cousin’s apartment building, shutting down the car and walking her to the entryway.

“Thank you again. Is...is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

“Nah, don’t mention it. Besides, you’ve got enough to worry about. I was happy to do it. Hope you can call and get it towed all right.”

“Yeah, it should be fine. Just...no signal before. I’ve got pretty decent insurance, so…”

“Good. Sorry again about your aunt…”

“...me too.”

“Well, maybe I’ll see you around.” He nods to her phone in her hand, which has his number in it: exchanged during their talks. “Need anything, let me know.”

“Thank you…” Waving, she watches him cross back to the sidewalk where he parked before turning and heading in.

Neji opens the door after a long silence once she knocks, bags under his bloodshot eyes. It’s quite clear he’s been crying.

“Oh, Neji…” Expression crumbling, Hinata quickly embraces him, sobbing quietly into his shoulder. “I’m s-so sorry…”

Eventually they retreat inside, Hinata making tea as he sits on the couch, head in his hands. Handing him a cup, she takes a ginger seat beside him, sparing a hand to gently rub at his back. “...did you sleep at all last night?”

“No...no, I was with her, when…”

Her head bows somberly.

“...thank you for coming.”

“Of course! I’d have been here sooner, but...I g-got a flat tire. Caught a ride in.”

Neji’s brow quickly furrows. “...with a stranger?”

“He was fine. Very polite, a-and friendly. Point is, I’m here now. I called the tow truck before I came up, so...it’s being taken into a shop. I’ll be good to drive home later today.”

“...I see. Seems it’s just that sort of day, isn’t it?”

“...yeah.”

The pair fall into a companionable silence, and Hinata lets her eyes wander to the coffee table beyond their knees. A few magazines and envelopes litter the surface, one of the former open to an article about some movie awards show.

...and then she jolts.

That...that’s him! That’s the guy who -?!

Feeling her jump, Neji glances over. “...are you all right?”

“I...t-that…?” She points. “...he’s the one who picked me up!”

“...you’re joking. Sasuke Uchiha?”

“Y-yeah!”

“He’s a pretty big name lately. How did you not recognize him? He’s on that one show, Clan something or other...and they just had some big movie come out. He and his brother were both in it.”

“I...I don’t really w-watch TV…”

“...well, seems you’re making friends in high places,” he can’t help but note dryly. “I suppose there are worse people who could have taken you off the side of the road.”

Hinata just nods slowly, still staring at the picture in disbelief. She...has an actor’s number. Is...is it really okay to just talk to him? Sure, she did on the way in, but that was before she knew who he was! Why didn’t he say anything…?

...well, there’s more pressing issues for the moment. Snapping herself out of it, she clears her throat a bit sheepishly. “...a-anyway...should we go see Dad?”

“...yes, we should. He had a meeting this morning, but...it should be over now. I”ll text him, let him know we’re coming.”

Hinata’s brow furrows in disapproval. Hiashi’s working today…? Really? Well...whatever. So long as he helps out, she can’t get mad. They’re all going have to work through this...but for now, she’s most concerned about Neji. Not her father, or her car, or her new friend.

...that all will have to wait.

                                                              .oOo.

     This is super random (and super depressing OTL) but...it was the first idea that hit me to make the prompt fit ^^; Sorry for the downer piece everybody. I try not to do angst too often...I prefer fluff, lol - or drama.      Anywho! Poor Neji...and poor Hinata. It's always hard losing a loved one, especially to something like a terminal illness. But at least they have each other to rely on. Sasuke takes a bit of a back seat in this one, but...I don't focus on Hinata enough, tbh. Which is odd, given how much I adore her!      But on that note, I'm finally getting to bed a little bit early for once! Woo! lol, thanks for reading guys~

[skye-maxwell]

Partner-sicle

Persona 4 | Souyo | Rated T? 

Yosuke stopped stirring the beef stew to glance at his watch again, knowing that Souji should be home by now. 

Usually, living within walking distance of Souji’s office was convenient, but when the ground was covered in snow, it was a different story. 

Their entire city had transformed into a winter wonderland overnight, though ‘wonderland’ was probably too romantic a term for the frigid death trap outside their door. 

Yosuke had tried his best to keep Souji in bed that morning, but his dutiful Partner had to go to work, saying he had ‘no excuse’ since he lived so close. 

All Yosuke could do was help bundle Souji up in his many layers and then send him away with some embarrassingly passionate kisses that in the best case would have convinced Souji to stay home but at the very least would keep his mouth and cheeks warm for the duration of his walk. 

All day, Yosuke played the role of worried housewife, channeling his nervous energy into doing chores around the apartment and constantly looking out the window as snow continued to fall and pile up on the ground. 

When Souji called during his lunch break, Yosuke had tried to convince him to come home early since the forecast wasn’t getting any better, but of course it hadn’t worked. As always, Souji was swamped with his many obligations at the office that were apparently more important than his own well-being (and Yosuke’s sanity). 

After Yosuke folded all the laundry, dusted every surface, and alphabetized every spice in the cabinet (he knew he was becoming more and more like Souji every day but couldn’t find it in himself to be mad about it), he finally decided to break out Souji’s handwritten recipe cards and prepare a stew that Souji made him the last time he had a bad cold. Even if Souji returned home as a Partner-sicle, a nice, hot stew would help thaw him out. 

Though at this point, Yosuke had to wonder if Souji really was a Partner-sicle now, out there frozen to the sidewalk somewhere. He had offered to pick Souji up after work (on foot since that was their only option), but Souji had adamantly told Yosuke to stay put. He said it ‘didn’t make sense’ for Yosuke to go out in this weather (the hypocrite), but Yosuke argued that at least they’d be together and he wouldn’t have to worry about Souji getting home safely. 

Yosuke had lost the argument, however, so now he had to suffer through imagining all the perils that could have befallen his Partner. 

So when he heard a noise outside the front door, Yosuke shut the stove off, threw his spoon down, and ran to the living room. 

Souji slammed the door shut behind him and then started violently stripping layers off, looking almost angry as he threw the wet articles of clothing to the ground. 

“Partner! You survived!” Yosuke said happily despite his concern for Souji’s mood. 

Souji didn’t reply, completely focused on kicking off his shoes and unbuttoning his heavy outer coat. 

“Are you okay there, Partner?” Yosuke asked hesitantly, inching toward Souji but not wanting to get caught up in the whirlwind of flying clothing. 

He still didn’t reply, as it seemed he had gone into what Yosuke called his ‘Silent Mode,’ which typically only happened when he was overwhelmed in some way. 

As soon as Souji got down to a couple final layers of dry clothing, he looked pathetically up at Yosuke through wet bangs and opened his arms. 

Yosuke nearly tripped over Souji’s pile of discarded clothing as he bounded over and gathered him up in his embrace.

“Holy shit you’re cold,” Yosuke remarked, rubbing up and down Souji’s back with both hands. 

Souji’s only response was to press closer to Yosuke. 

“You’re shivering,” Yosuke said sadly, feeling the uneven tremors wracking Souji’s frame. “You need a warm shower and then we’ll get some hot food in you—”

“I shouldn’t have…” Souji began miserably, pressing his cold nose against Yosuke’s neck. 

“Shhh, it’s okay,” Yosuke said, running his fingers through Souji’s snowflake-laden hair and willing all the warmth from his body to transfer into Souji’s. “You’re a really good employee. The best one ever. They’re lucky to have you. They don’t deserve you. Nobody does.” 

“Nobody but you,” Souji said quietly as his shivering started to settle down. “It smells good in here.”

“Heh, I made your beef stew recipe! I hope it tastes okay.” 

“That sounds amazing. Can we eat first?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Can I wear your sweater?” Souji asked, pressing his face against Yosuke’s collar and breathing in deeply. 

“Ha, yeah, as soon as we let go, you can have my sweater.”

“Don’t let go yet,” Souji requested, lifting his head and resting his chin on Yosuke’s shoulder. “Did you clean the whole apartment?” he asked, looking around.

“Uh, most of it? Don’t worry about it.”

“I should have stayed home with you.”

“Yeah, but… you can make it up to me by staying home tomorrow?”

“Only if I get kisses like the ones from this morning.”

Yosuke scoffed. “Shouldn’t I have the upper hand in this negotiation? And I don’t know, I was kind of insulted when those kisses didn’t convince you to stay in today.” 

“I’m sorry. I was so tempted,” Souji said, sounding genuinely devastated. “Knowing I could have had that all day made everything even more awful.” 

“Aww, okay,” Yosuke laughed playfully, patting Souji’s head. “You can have more, I guess.”

“You guess?” Souji half-whined. 

“You’re staying home tomorrow, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then you can definitely have as many of those kisses as you want,” Yosuke promised, warming Souji’s mouth once more by planting the first of many kisses on Souji’s lips. 

[tarysande]

I have finished the new season of Veronica Mars (spoilers and I-just-finished-ten-minutes-ago reactions ahoy)

And I am not okay. 

I think my new goal in creative life is to create a story--a popular fucking story--where marriage is not the end. Because it isn’t, you know, no matter what they try to sell us. Our lives don’t end when we say, “I do.” Hell, they don’t even follow the same bullshit model we’re told they will follow of marriage, house, kids, retirement, grandkids, bullshit.

I’ve been married for almost 12 years. I’ve been with my husband for 22 years, total. Our relationship now is better than it has ever been. We are more interesting people; we’ve had more interesting experiences. And I think stories like that need to be told. I think people need to know that marriage doesn’t have to be all about settling down or settling in or giving up. 

The few articles I’ve managed to read about the VM ending in the last ten minutes reference Rob Thomas saying this “frees Veronica up”--fuck that. Married people have lives, too. And sometimes those lives aren’t living in each other’s back pockets. And if you think Logan fucking Echolls wouldn’t have done everything in his fucking power to help Veronica live her best life--no matter what that meant, no matter if their life together never looked like Wallace’s life or “enjoy the honeymoon phase” or all the fucking negative examples of broken and horrible relationships they ever saw--then you weren’t fucking paying attention.

Fridging usually applies to the female love interest’s death to further the man’s story. The fucking travesty of the last ten minutes of an absolutely wonderful season of a show I was SO fucking happy to see back is exactly that. (Not to mention how often Logan was coded in the traditional loyal, loving, unquestioning “female” role, while Veronica was in the questioning, doubting, grass-is-maybe-greener “male” role.

Never in my life--never in my life--have I wanted to hit pause and pretend whatever bad thing was going to happen wasn’t going to happen as I wanted to do (my hand literally reached for the remote on autopilot) when Logan walked out that door to move the car and every instinct in my body said, “He’s not coming back.”

On their motherfucking WEDDING DAY.

Because of-fucking-course it was. Say vows, will die. It’s such bullshit. Such total and colossal bullshit.

I am legit crying as I write this. Fuck you, Rob Thomas, for thinking loving relationships can’t be an interesting part of a character’s ongoing story and growth. And for using Logan to “teach” Veronica a lesson she was already starting to learn, and that she could have learned with Logan alive. And for not letting Logan get the chance to see what a more stable, more committed, more engaged, healthier Veronica was like.

Double-fuck-you if you just wanted to pull a ~*shock*~ ending on us.

I watched it with my mom, and when it was over, we looked at each other, both crying, and she said, “I don’t think I can get over this.” And I said, “I don’t think I can, either.”

And even though I loved the season, loved the mystery, loved seeing these characters I’ve loved for 15 years moving through life in their multitude of ways, I hate that when I think of it from now on, I will be thinking of the last fucking ten minutes of this series, and how, not even in my imagination, can I imagine things will be okay.

Fridging. What a fucking bullshit trope to end on. What a stupid fucking bullshit way to end a relationship I’ve loved for 15 years. They deserved better. And so did we.

Fuck it.

Unless that final few minutes was an elaborate “Everyone thinks Logan is dead but he’s not because coma or trauma or long recovery” set-up (which, according to Rob Thomas--who somehow doesn’t understand a large part of the show’s appeal--doesn’t seem to be the case; sure does confirm why I’m so fucking fridgey pissed right now though!), I’m just ... done.

Except for some kind of little fix it fic, which I have promised my mom because the show made her cry and not in a satisfied way and no one makes my mom cry.

And which my brain probably needs because holy shit I have only been this devastated over a TV show a handful of times and it sucks. A lot.

In other news, I now totally understand why people need the major character death warning. I’ve never had a problem with it in fic, since fic isn’t canon. I sure the fuck wish I’d had one for this bit of canon.