#i hope shes happy with the fabricated pleasantries

[adharastarlight]

telling your mother that you'll give her the picture perfect relationship she wants but that youre done ever trying to have a proper one with her, ever again

[luvryeo]

ribbons 🎀

fem!reader x hot girl of your choosing , smut ofc & fluff , cw : light sub/dom dynamics (bit more subby reader), pet names (pretty girl, good girl, baby), marking/making out, boobs <3, grinding, idk it's just hot domestic wlw sex , wc : 1.2K , requested by ❄️anon ! hope you enjoy <33 MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI

you can’t say you didn’t mean for this to happen; the decadent lingerie adorning your body is a clear testament to that. but no matter how purposeful your clothing choices (or lack thereof) are, your girlfriend’s lips on your neck and hands roaming your body are always a precious pleasantry to you.

the rain outside hits against the windowsil rhythmically, its unrelenting pace since early evening prompting the two of you to stay comfortable inside and you to pull on her favorite lingerie. you hadn’t tried to keep it secret for even a moment, the ribbons covering your underwear peeking out from your sweatpants and revealed instantly by your cropped tee each time your hands reach for anything at all. so it doesn’t take long at all for her to notice, and even less time for her lips to find yours.

she starts soft, slow, but in the way you know that she wants more. her hands find your waist and pull you closer on the couch, her confident touch guiding you to straddle her hips. her tongue comes next, swiping at your bottom lip, triumphant when you part your lips to let it inside. it pushes against your own tongue, pulling out a moan from your throat that repeats itself when one of her hands travels up your shirt and around the swell of your breast, no matching bra to inhibit the intensity of her touch.

you buck your hips against hers, pushing your own tongue into the cavity of her mouth and winning a strangled moan from her too. her hand continues its groping at your tits, and you pull away slightly to catch a bit of your breath. her thumb and pointer twist at your nipple, bringing out an unmuffled whine; exactly what she wanted.

“that’s my pretty girl,” she whispers.

this time her lips attach to the skin of your neck, sucking and nipping at all the spots she knows to be most sensitive to pull out every precious sound from that back of your throat that she can. your hands become tangled in the hair at the base of her neck, and she lets out a sigh of pleasure against the heartbeat in your neck at the light pressure you apply.

“you drive me insane, you know that?” she groans, one hand moving down to grip your ass and push your hips further into her own.

“that’s the goal,” you grin, following her initiative and grinding your clothed pussy over hers as she continues her assault on your neck. but soon, her firm hands stop the movements over her hips, her frustration taking over.

“i need to see your pretty underwear, baby,” her voice somehow pleading and commanding all at once. you’re more than happy to indulge in her wishes, quick to pull yourself from her and strip away from your sweats. she hums in contentment at the sight, the ribbons of the garment and the way they compliment your skin reminding her of many special nights. “you’re perfect,” she mumbles, almost in awe, causing a rush of heat to your face.

“so are you,” you whisper. “you too, please?” she smiles, love in her eyes as she strips the same way as you, even pulling off her shirt to reveal the simple black bra covering her top. within moments, you’re back in her lap, the thinning of layers between your wet cores pulling moans out from the both of you. immediately, her tongue is tangled back with yours, her hands on your hips and yours cupping her covered boobs. you take care of that issue swiftly, pushing the cups of her bra down to feel her, then your hands fumbling desperately to unhook the bra in the back. her response is to snatch up the fabric at the bottom of your shirt and pull it over your head, your lips crashing back to each other not a second after they’re separated by the fabric. you move your hands to her waist as she arches her back to press her chest to yours, the feeling of her bare skin against yours always welcome.

neither of you attempt to suppress your moans and whimpers or the urge to grind against one another desperately, the friction of the layers of underwear both delicious and frustrating. she snaps first, bringing her lips down again to suck on your collarbone and her hands to the largest ribbons of your underwear in one motion. you find it difficult to halt your movements against her heat, only able to do so with the knowledge that it’ll get her hands or whatever she wishes on your bare pussy the fastest. so with the aid of your stillness and her capable fingers, she’s quick to pull out the bows holding the underwear up, causing the fabric to fall away from you. she practically yanks it out from under you, quick to replace the skimpy covering with her own hand, cupping your mound and groaning in tandem with you.

“god,” she moans, her head thrown back and eyes shut at the feeling of your dripping pussy smothering her hand. “you’re so wet,” she states, as if you have no idea the effect she has on you.

“fuck,” you whine. “always, for you.”

“that’s right,” she praises. “my good girl’s always wet for me.” she starts rubbing you with her flat hand, causing you to buck into her, desperate for more each moment.

“please, baby, please.” your pleas fall out of your mouth without you thinking.

“please what, love?” she asks, voice sweet as she teases you lightly.

“just more, please, i wanna feel more of you,” you beg, struggling to keep yourself still, trembling a little in her hand.

she presses a kiss to your shoulder. “me too, baby. just gimme a second.” you almost whine at the loss of contact when she removes her hand and urges you to stand up with her, but you love the feeling of hooking your fingers on the waistband of her underwear and pulling the garment down her legs.

she lays down on the couch and you follow not even seconds behind, groaning into her mouth when your bare pussies finally make contact. her hands grip your waist, pulling you into her as she bucks her hips up, just as desperate for the friction and feeling of your wetness mixing with hers as you.

it’s true that the position isn’t ideal; it’s hard to find exactly what you need to cum and there’s no towel to catch your dripping, but the both of you are more than happy and pleasured to keep going like this until you tire enough to take it to the bedroom. the feeling of grinding your pussy into hers is more than enough to keep you moaning and sucking sloppy, pretty bruises onto her neck and breasts. her hands roam and grope at your waist, boobs, thighs, ass, anything she can find to press a bit of love into.

“god, i could fuck you all night,” she groans right into your ear.

“well, i’m certainly not stopping you,” you grin.

[triple-7-heaven]

When It Rains

a/n: first story, kinda nervous 0_0 this is written off a prompt from @writingprompts365 , "a character takes a walk in the rain." reader insert takes a walk in the rain and runs into Gowon, who offers to walk them home. written with a male reader in mind, but can be read by anyone :-) inspired by other reader insert stories to put in some fake texts bc i love how they add to the story, but the image quality is absolute ass... my bad :-[ anyway, i hope this is okay. pairing: male reader x gowon ; words: 1.7k ; categories: loona, gowon, fluff, reader insert

It was nighttime in Seoul. You wandered down the middle of a side street, eyes squinting against the incessant raindrops. It was coming down hard. You peeled off your shirt; you couldn't stand the wet fabric against you. As you walked along, water streaming over your skin, boots sloshing through puddles, you looked to the skyline and took in the view of tall buildings with lights glowing from below. You approached a corner store with a tattered awning; a small figure stood against the side of the building. It looked like they were holding an umbrella.

"Hey... Do you, uh, need an umbrella?" the woman called out. You ducked under the awning and shook out your hair. You glanced down at her and smiled weakly.

"Nah, you should use it... Hey, I've seen you before," you said. She pushed back her ash blonde hair and laughed.

"My name is Chaewon- Or, uh, Gowon. Maybe you know Girls of the Month?" she said. It hit you.

"Chaewon, yeah, yeah, I know you guys. What are you doing here at this time of night? It's..." You checked your soaking wet phone. "It's nearly midnight. Not very safe for you to be out," you said.

"Likewise. What are you doing out this late?" she retorted and tilted her head to the side.

"I just... Needed to get out. But then it started raining, and... Yeah. My nice walk turned into this," you said.

"Not happy you ran into me?" she joked.

"O-oh, that's not what I meant," you laughed nervously. "Just sucks that I'm drenched now."

"Where do you live? Maybe I can walk you back, if it's not too far," Chaewon said.

"Now that's not safe either. What if I kidnap you?" you said. She smacked your arm playfully and laughed. You noticed one of her eyes shut when she laughed, like she was winking. For some reason, it made your chest tingle.

"I don't know, I just... Get a good feeling about you," she said. You told her what neighborhood your apartment was in, and she said it was near enough to her house, though you weren't sure if she was being honest, or just saying that so she could talk to you more. Her eyes razed your bare torso as she spoke, and she nearly trailed off a few times. She laughed it off and nodded to you to get going.

"Here, you should hold it. You're taller," Chaewon said and handed you the umbrella.

"Sure. You never answered, what are you doing out so late?" you asked her. She bumped into you as you walked, trying to stay under the umbrella.

"Same as you, I guess. I needed to get out. Thought I'd get a soda at the corner store and get a nice walk in. But I thought to bring an umbrella," she teased. You went through the pleasantries; where are you from, how'd you end up here, what's your favorite food, how do you like your job. Eventually she asked you what was on your mind that made you need to get out.

"I... I guess just the usual bad feelings. Feeling unsuccessful, unwanted, undesirable. Stupid shit like that," you mumbled. Chaewon suddenly took hold of your hand.

"Undesirable..? What about you is undesirable?" she furrowed her eyebrows. It caught you off guard, from her hand in yours, to her tone of voice, this strange girl you'd just met seemed genuinely invested in you.

"I, uh, I dunno, I'm just not happy with myself, I guess. I don't like the way I look- Here, this way- Talking to people is hard. I feel like I'm unlikable," you said and waved her in the direction of your apartment.

Jeez. Really pouring my heart out to this girl.

"I like you. I think. I mean, I like you so far, from what I know about you. I like the way you look, and the way you talk. Is that weird? Sorry," she rambled.

"No, no, Chaewon, it's... It's okay. Thank you," you said. She still held onto your hand tightly. "I'm sure you hear it all the time, but, I think you're pretty beautiful, too."

"Thank you, I... It's different to hear it from someone like this, than to hear it online." You asked her about her life as an idol, and she gave you some interesting anecdotes. She seemed interested in your job, too, and you told her some stories of your own. Despite the rain, you took the long way home, just to get those few extra minutes with her.

Should I ask for her number..?

You approached your building and your heart sank.

"You live here?" she asked, and you nodded. "I'll walk up with you. Just to make sure."

"Alright, weirdo," you said and laughed softly. You opened the lobby door for her and hit the elevator button. She'd moved on from your hand and was now hanging on your arm, like you were walking her into a fancy event. The elevator doors opened up with a slight mechanical creak and you two stepped in; you hit your floor and leaned against the back wall of the car. Chaewon followed along, leaning next to you. She commented on how she'd never lived somewhere like this; she'd always lived with her family, or in her company's dorm. You told her she wasn't missing much. You walked down the hallway towards your apartment, literally dragging your feet as you didn't want her to let go of you. Eventually, you stopped in front of your door and turned to her. She didn't say anything, just looked back at you. You noticed she was actually pretty wet, too.

"Hey, if the umbrella wasn't covering you, you should have said something," you said and pushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. She smiled at your touch and her cheeks flushed slightly.

"No, you needed it more than me. I'll be okay," she giggled.

"At least let me give you a towel so you don't get sick," you said and unlocked your door. She hummed an 'okay,' and followed after you. You gestured for her to sit on one of your kitchen stools before running to the bathroom to grab a towel. You remembered your shirtlessness, and grabbed a t-shirt, too, pulling it on as you returned to Chaewon. She was swinging her feet and looking at you struggling to get into the t-shirt with your body still covered in rainwater.

"Here, hopefully you won't get sick if you dry off quickly," you said, trying to draw her attention away from your t-shirt struggle. It didn't work. She set the towel on the counter and stood up; she stepped towards you and grabbed the bottom hem of your shirt. She slowly but forcefully yanked it down until it was on your body right.

"T-thanks, Chaewon..." you stuttered a little. She was unfazed and just picked up the towel and began drying her hair. She stepped into the kitchen in front of the sink and, with her back to you, pulled her shirt off. She wrung it out over the sink and wrapped herself in the towel. You could do nothing but stand there, awestruck at this gorgeous girl standing shirtless in your kitchen. Your eyes devoured every inch of her; from her pretty blonde hair, to her shoulders, to her gleaming skin, to her small waist, to the curves of her hips. She turned around and caught you gazing at her, laughing and doing that winking thing.

"Sorry. Do you want another shirt? That one seems pretty soaked," you said. She nodded, and you extended your hand for her to give you her shirt, so you could hang it up. You tossed it over the shower curtain rod and went to your room to grab her something. You dug around in your drawer for the smallest shirt you could find, settling on a black graphic t-shirt. You turned and went back to the kitchen, where Chaewon was sitting on the stool playing with her phone.

"Here, it's the smallest shirt I could find," you said. She smiled and took it from you, then stood and turned her back to you to put it on. As expected, it dwarfed her, the short sleeves coming down almost past her elbows.

"Thank you, it's... Very small," she said. You rolled your eyes playfully. Before you knew it, Chaewon was standing right in front of you. She placed a hand on your cheek, and, standing up on her toes, she kissed your other cheek quickly.

"Is that too much?" she asked nervously and touched your arm.

"No! No... I'm just a nervous guy. Caught me off guard," you said. Now it was your turn to blush. You rubbed the back of your neck. "Are you sure you're okay to get home tonight?"

"Yeah, I think so," she said.

Hard-to-get, huh?

"Maybe just in case, you should take my number. So you can call me if you get into trouble," you said suavely. Where did that energy come from?

"Ah, maybe I should. Just in case," she said and pulled out her phone. She handed it to you and you typed your number into her phone. You walked her to the door and she lingered for a few seconds. She quickly moved to hug your waist, and your hand went to the back of her head, feeling her soft hair. You felt her breath against your chest and wished she could stay. But she pulled away and smiled at you one more time before waving and turning to leave. You watched her walk all the way until she turned to the elevators, and even waited a few seconds after. Some part of you hoped she might come back. But she didn't and you retreated into your apartment. You took the towel from the counter and a wave of Chaewon's scent hit you. You felt ridiculous bringing the towel to your face to try and get more of the sweet smell, but it was mostly gone. You took a quick shower, your mind on Chaewon the entire time, and finally hopped in bed. When you checked your phone, you had a message from an unknown contact.

You turned your phone off and rolled over. Thank God it rained that night. If not, you could've missed your chance with the angel that found her way into your life.

[intruality-overlord]

OKAY SO— about that sparrington fic

I hit some writers block a while ago, so I’ve had this wip sitting in my drafts for a few months now because I like to have things fully completed before I post them bUT I’m tired of no one seeing it so I’ve decided to just post it anyway after all. I got like three chapters/parts done and I’m tired of no one seeing it so yeet—

Summary: An anxious asexual (James) and a demiromantic disaster (Jack) form a tenuous truce. It quickly spirals into more.

Solidarity — pt. 1

James had escaped to the balcony, to taste the sea breeze. The chit chat and squawking fiddles of the wedding reception still reached him, floating into the open air. It dampened the refreshing effect of the crisp night air, though it was no less still better than being in the midst of the commotion.

It was suffocating. The mindless pleasantries, the constant stream of hopeful ladies dragging him, Commodore Norrington, not James, to the dance floor, and the refreshments left much to be desired. Whether it was the food itself or just himself being bitter that made it taste foul, he didn’t know. It was a perfect opportunity to meet new people, yet impossible to form a connection to anyone with the constant charades. No lady or gentleman shows their true face at formal events, even at sweethearts’ nuptials.

James tugged at his cravat.

And then there was the shame.

He could hardly decline the invitation to Elizabeth and Will’s wedding. James merely wished they had considered his predicament. The humiliation of going to his recently ex-fiancé’s wedding. He was planning to leave as soon as manors allowed, but the night dragged on, and on, and on.

Eli— …Mrs. Turner was a brilliant, intelligent spitfire. Even if he couldn’t be her husband, he would always love her dearly, although differently, he was sure of that. James could never fulfil all her needs that a husband should provide, that she would surely want, anyway.

The wood of the balcony creaked.

Instinctually, James reached for the sword at his hip and his fingers only met thin, thin air and fabric. Why was the air suddenly so thin?

A bejewel hand grabbed the railing from the opposite side. Then a body followed and flopped onto the floor like a fish on the deck.

James almost didn’t recognise him with the crude disguise, but as the man stumbled to his feet, it could have only been one person. James was still, not a breath leaving his lips, and his presence wasn’t immediately noticed. He watched the man collect himself, swaying on his feet. No one else had only sea legs like him.

“Sparrow?”

Jack let out a (very manly) yelp of surprise.

“Fuck.”

“What are you doing here?!” James whisper-shouted, jaw clenched. Tossing a glance over his shoulder, his eyes fretfully flicked around for witnesses.

“Am I really so easily recognisable?” Jack smiled warily, and yes, he was. Definitely Sparrow, gold teeth and all.

“You scaled the wall to the balcony.”

“Yes yes— but I put effort into this disguise! I shaved my beard for this,” Jack grumbled. Mournfully, his hands stroked over his chin where the swaying braids once were.

He had indeed. James hadn’t fully taken in the… costume. There was clearly an attempt to seem gentlemanly, full suit, no kohl smudged eyelids, his hair stuffed under an unflattering wig. The missing moustache and beard, dangling braids, was the worst offender. Jack looked more like a stuffed peacock.

“Doesn’t look right,” James muttered. He didn’t like it.

“Damn,” Jack cursed. “Don’t suppose you’ll spare me another day’s head start?” He said, his hands coming together like a prayer.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, James shook his head in exasperation. “Why are you here?” He hissed.

“To send the happy couple my well wishes, of course, I mean no trouble, promise,” Jack said in his most placating voice possible.

“Of course,” James parroted sarcastically. “This is madness.”

He sighed, thinking. Clearly this wouldn’t do. Jack was a passable guest if not looked at too closely. Perhaps…

“Walk with me then. You will appear less suspicious in good company,” James said then, and there was no room for argument.

“…What?” Jack said dumbly.

“Do you or do you not wish to speak with Mr and Mrs Turner?” When James heard no response he continued, “Follow me then.”

James weaved through the crowd and Jack fell into step beside him with his swaying gate as if the floor moved beneath him. Was the man born at sea? James wondered. Jack had recovered from that embarrassing entrance by the time they reached the Turners, who wisely held their tongue and played along.

While those three talked, James’s attention was elsewhere, either inside his own head or with distracting any navy men who drew too close.

He tried not to think too hard as to why he was doing this himself.

After some imperceptible amount of time, Jack earned his attention back with a sharp poke to his arm.

“Shall we… catch some air?” He said, suppressing a self satisfied grin.

James nodded mutely and led him back to the balcony. As soon as they were out of sight and Jack was within bolting distance, he ripped off that abomination from his head, sending pins scattering. They were both relieved. James never thought he’d see the day where that mane of hair became a welcome sight.

The dragging time stopped completely when the sea breeze once again hit their faces. They lingered. They silently found they wanted to linger longer.

“I didn’t expect you here,” Jack said after a tedious pause. That theatrical flare he possessed, gone. He sounded… achingly sober, despite the several flutes of champagne he had indulged in.

“I was invited. It would have been impolite to decline,” James replied simply. He couldn’t look at him, he stared blankly ahead out across the ocean.

“Do you not still hold, erm, tender feelings for Lizzie?”

Yes.

“It’s better this way,” he said instead, his tone carefully flat.

Leaning into his field of vision, Jack tried to catch his eyes with an inquisitive look set in his own. James’s green irises flitted away, cowering in the very corners. Jack rounded his side. James turned away. He kept his arms carefully pinned to his sides. When Jack yet again stepped further into his sight, James looked down. Only, Jack followed, and suddenly the pirate was under James’s nose. Crowded against his chest, their eyes locked, his breath stuttered. Jack’s gaze pinned him like a butterfly to a cork board.

“Fine. Yes, I do. Happy? There’s no point dwelling on it,” he growled, breathily.

Studying him, Jack’s eyes followed the lines of his face. James could have sworn they were black, but as the moonlight caught them, burnt umber reflected off. He wondered what colour they would change to under lamplight, maybe amber. Those rich brown eyes were boring into his green ones, like Jack was peeling back layers of formalities and reservations with his gaze. They traced the fibrous lines of his irises, mapping out the slight variations in hue. Stripping James until he was only a man, with all the fragility that came with shedding the uniform.

“What’s it like?” The words rolled on Jack’s tongue like he was tasting a foreign delicacy for the first time. He observed the minute shift in James’s expression, his eyebrows turning downward, his lips pressing thin.

James stared. Would Jack ever make sense?

Jack pulled away and started pacing the tight flatform. Somehow, it didn’t get easier to breathe again.

“‘m jus’ curious, mate,” he shrugged.

Finally finding his voice again, James asked, “…Curious?”

Jack gave an affirmative hum, barely louder than his tapping boots.

“Have you not…?”

Shrugging, he said, “Besides the Pearl and the sea, no, no one.”

“Nobody?” Now James was the one trying to catch Jack’s eyes, to catch a glimpse of his secretive past in them. But Jack’s head bowed slightly and a curtain of braids hid him, halting his search.

Jack shook his head no.

James eyebrows furrowed further, casting a shallow shadow. “But you flirt with… everybody.”

Grinning (no doubt as James could hear it in his voice), Jack said, “It’s funny,” as if that’s all the explanation needed. Knowing him, James supposed it was.

After a minute, Jack’s head tilted back once more and the braids shifted. He was looking at him expectantly.

James raised an eyebrow. It only seemed to amuse Jack.

“Well?” He needled.

Sighing, James fortified himself, pretending his uniform still meant something in this strange exchange (his wig was starting to itch more than usual). For what exactly? He wasn’t entirely sure. Humiliation? Probably humiliation.

He stepped to the edge of the balcony and pointedly trained his eyes on the horizon. Hand settling on the railing, he absentmindedly picked at spinsters. “It makes you irrational,” he started carefully, choosing his words precisely. “You want to keep them safe, yet it makes you reckless. They carve out a soft spot in you,” he said. His hands flexed. “You want to give them everything you can… but… I can’t do that for Elizabeth, and I’m sure Will can. So… it is better this way.”

“…What can’t a commodore of the British navy provide a fair lady, but a blacksmith can?” Jack slowly asked, bewildered.

Dragging a hand down his face, James answered, “It’s nothing to do with titles! It’s… about what a husband must give.” James’s face burned pink at the admission.

Jack frowned.

“I mean— don’t make me say…” Jack still looked confused. He huffed, “Sex! Consummating the marriage, erotic pleasures, children…” Scarlet creeped further up his neck at every word.

Leaning forward conspiratorially, Jack mumbled, “Ah, so you mean…” Jack mimed a snipping motion.

“I’m not an eunuch!” James shouted indignantly, then promptly hoped no one heard. He tried to hide his beetroot red face as he shrunk into his shoulders. Like a turtle, Jack thought.

“So women just don’t do it for you?” Jack asked next. James noted he didn’t show any signs of judgment. Yet.

“I do love women,” he said, trying not to sound too defensive, “Just not… you know.”

James watched the lapping coastline.

“And men?” It was almost a genuine question, but asked to cause a reaction, not expecting a real answer.

“I have had passing fancies for men, too,” James said, and he had to take a moment to marvel in catching Jack off guard for once. “Though,” he continued, “I could never reciprocate their... erotic desires. Which is all they wanted from me, so nothing ever came of it.” Dear lord, that sounded pathetic.

A lopsided smile steadily overcame Jack’s face. “A hopeless romantic are you?”

James said nothing.

“I think I understand,” Jack suddenly said, “I enjoy a good fuck—”

James winced at the crass language.

“—But ‘tis merely mechanics. All the importance and romance attached to it, I’ve never understood. I’d usually rather some rum,” Jack admitted.

“Really?” James was genuinely surprised, “I know you like your rum but… really?”

Jack flashed that brazen grin at him. “It’s something that tends to happen to me and my roguish charms rather than something I seek out,” he said, a bit too proudly.

James was unimpressed. He ignored the odd flutter in his chest. Damn him. He wanted to form some sarcastic retort about said apparent roguish charms, yet it was abundantly obvious he’d be lying. Hopefully James wasn’t alone in that opinion.

“But you still like it, don’t you?” James said quietly, then stuttered out, “It… it makes me feel… sick. I-I don’t know what's wrong with me.” Bracing himself on the railing, he dug his nails into the wood and forced his swimming eyes open to dry in the wind.

Light footsteps followed him the couple steps to the balcony’s border. Silence stretched, but not uncomfortably. Jack’s hand tentatively settled on his shoulder. It was warm and solid, yet light, rubbing warmth into his skin through his uniform. When Jack spoke next, it was oddly comforting and rumbled like distant, rolling thunder. “Can’t say I’ve met anyone like you before, but I hardly think somethin’s wrong with ye,” he said. His touch dropped an inch to his upper arm and gave him a light squeeze. “Sex really is not so important. No problem in not wanting it,” he insisted, “and if I can have sex without romance, why not romance without sex.”

The weight of his touch lifted, but he couldn’t seem to pull away entirely, his body also taking an aborted half step away. Silently, James watched the movement in his periphery. Jack’s swanning fingers glided lower down the length of his arm. Past James’s elbow, grazing over his forearm, until he reached the skin of his wrist. Stopping just before his hand clutching the railing tighter each second.

Jack’s hold was so light, he could have pulled away any second he pleased.

Without the fabric barrier, his body heat scorched him pleasantly. There, his palm rested on his wrist and, gaining some confidence, tenderly wrapped his fingers around his thrumming pulse. His thumb snuck under the edge of the sleeve and softly drew circles.

James glanced over and Jack was just a smear of bronze and black washed in silver. Everything was blurry.

Jack smiled, a gentle lift of his lips, slightly parted. (James could only tell he was flashing his teeth from the telltale glint of metal). Then he said, just as gently— like the words were delicate and precious— “I’m rooting for you.”

And he was leaving. Gone.

James shivered as the warmth of his touch evaporated from his skin.

[bibliocratic]

litany An exploration on endings. Or: all the ways it could have gone wrong and right.

jonmartin, spoilers for 200, content warnings in the tags

--

This is not what she thought victory would feel like.

Basira’s fingers tense and smart with overexerted aching when she stops to stretch them out. There is a geography of broken blood-vessels under the bruising that lies puddle-splotched over her hands which scrabble and claw talon-bent at the rubble. They are scored with scratches and tears where her exposed and dust-ruined skin has snagged on fractured brickwork.

She uncovers a foot first, as she pushes up and over the twisted mental of a window frame with an exhausted clatter. A trainer, the white doused with mud, the trailing laces caked stiff and russet. More heaving and hauling, her breath purging from her faster now – maybe, maybe, maybe, but she has lived too long now to believe in miracles. Overturning a fire-blasted section of what could have been once part of the imperious and grand stone stairwell, she reveals the leg the trainer is attached to, pulverised and off-angled by the weight of the collapse, the fabric of it drenched in soot. She peels back a cascade of plasterboard with a grunt, and there is a twisted pelvis, shattered ribs caved in under an acrid-smelling jumper. She’s not surprised at the dull punch of revelation, when she digs out hunched shoulders, coils of hair turned grey-white like swans’ down with the dust.

Martin is obviously dead. She hopes it was quick, fears it was not. His body lying stringless is curved around something, clutching it to him with his bruised and broken fingers. It takes many minutes of labouring, her spine seizing with complaint, sweat pooling at her brow and under her arms, but eventually she reveals Martin’s tender quarry, bundled up against his chest, blood-soaked from a wound long congealed. His own long and bloody fingers clenched and moored into the weft of Martin’s jumper.

She doesn’t need to check his pulse. She is cursed with enough sentiment to do so anyway. Crouching for a moment in the thick of the settling devastation, the fug of dust coating her nostrils, before she murmurs ‘I’m sorry’.

As she stands, she takes off her coat to lay it over them respectfully, the only shroud she can offer.

When her voice is composed, its cracks flattened out, she shouts the others over to tell them to stop searching.

--

The knife does not go in easily. There is force behind its thrust, a manic wave-shock of hysteric intent, and Jon’s lips part in a gasp as skin and sinew and flesh split. The noise wrenched from Martin is soiled with ruin, tremulous and saw-toothed, and he will never be able to forgive himself.

Jon’s eyes close. Peace of a sort granted to Magnus’ last and most beleaguered of Archivists.

And then they open. All of them, like the unfolding back of petals during blossoming, a meadow’s expanse of sight flowering on his face.

“No,” Martin whispers, the refusal almost lost over the tumult of the building around them. He pulls the knife out, and it drips onto the floor, making damp the material of his trousers. “No, nononononono.”

The wound presses together like lips, and then it is gone.

“I think it’s too late for that, Martin,” the Archivist says in that calm and reasoned voice of his.

--

It is a surreal, poorly-rendered mirror of before. A way the record of the world has slipped, juddered aground in a repeat. For all they have both changed, outgrown the casings of the people they were, for all they have endured both together and apart, it is a sick homecoming of sorts to stand again a second time round at the entrance to his hospital ward.

She’s brought supermarket flowers bunched in plastic, the last of a bad crop and too late to get the freshest, the stalks of baby’s breath drooping, the petals on the carnations mottled slightly and past their glory days. Jon lies submerged in sleep, the focal point in a placid storm of machines and wires. This coma chemically induced with no inkling of the supernatural, a last-ditch effort by the doctors to reduce the swelling on his brain. To give the body a chance to heal from the damage sustained during the collapse, his frame bludgeoned and punctured like a shrike-caught mouse, the smoke that has snarled like brambles in his lungs. The almost comically neat wound punched into his chest, nicking his heart.

She hopes his sleep is dreamless.

It takes him weeks to wake up.

“… Georgie?” he finally gasps out on an otherwise uneventful Thursday. His vocals are ribbed and scored with smoke damage. He’s sluggish as he blinks and turns and groans at the complaint of his body around him. “What – er?”

“Hey Jon,” she replies. “Good to have you back with us.”

She lets him acclimatise. Without his glasses, he squints and peers owlishly, like an inquisitive bird, absorbed by the novelty of his environment, the mundanity; the hospital-blue curtain that’s been pulled back around his bed, missing a few rungs and so hanging lopsided in places. The wilting flowers on the side table. The IV needles threaded into his arms.

“Did it work?” he asks finally.

“We think so.”

Georgie doesn’t add more. The conversation is one she knew they’d have, but it still feels like stepping out on frozen water. She is waiting for it to give beneath him, for the drop and drown in the unmoored cold.

His relief muddies in increments. His brow crinkling with a frown, glancing around again at the other beds. Their occupants dredged up and out and recovering from their private terrors, bringing the lessons of their landscape with them.

“Where - ?”

He looks up at her. The ice cracking.

“I’m… I’m so sorry, Jon,” she says.

--

“We made it. L-look, see, we’re – I don’t know where we are exactly, b-but that doesn’t matter, does it, because we’re together, yeah? We’re together and that’s… that’s what we promised.”

The blood is drying on his trembling fingertips, the crevices of his palm, and it flakes off like decaying leaf-fall. The front of his clothes is clogged and sodden, the slick slow to harden. The weight in his arms is making his shoulders scream but he can’t let go.

“We – we did it,” he repeats hollowly. Desperately. “We did it, s-so you can come back now. You can come back. Together, you promised.”

The winds of this new world blow as cold as the old one did, and it is Martin’s only reply.

--

“It’s for the best, Martin,” the Archivist says.

“Shut up,” his furious watcher snarls. “Don’t talk to me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Don’t play st – Like him! Like he would! Using his voice.”

“It’s my voice. It’s me, Martin.”

Martin doesn’t respond to that. Their arguments are cyclical as roundabouts. He tells Martin he loves him. Martin tells him to fuck off.

The place where Jonah Magnus met his End, crumpled up on the dais of the Panopticon, has been cleared of blood. It distressed Martin to look upon, as evidence of his ascension rather than his capacity for brutality, so the servitors saw to its removal. The body he gifted to the mulch of the bone gardens, and the wailing growths flourished beautifully with the nutrients it bore.

The screams beyond the walls of the Panopticon cut off faster as he hastens them towards the End. He observes a world in its twilight. There is still torment, and it is unendurable and unfair but it will end under his reign, for good and for ever, and he will ensure that there is no more.

“You don’t have to stay,” the Archivist says. Considered. Gentle. “I know… seeing me like this is not what you wanted. I want us to be together while it ends, but I won’t force you.”

“And how is it any better out there?”

“It’s not,” he admits. “Here, I can keep you safe. I want you to be safe. I want you to be happy.”

“Well, you fucked up there then,” Martin snaps.

His anger is righteous and flint-spark, makes barriers that almost waylay his grieving. He looks at him, and for a moment, his gaze shakes. He will see nothing less than he expects to see, a man, unkempt from travel, a bit grubby. Coarse hands he has held, lines he has attempted to smooth. In many ways, this makes it worse.

Martin turns away, and the Archivist lets him go.

He needs time and they have more than enough of it now.

--

He is inconsolable when they dig them out. A horrible, anguished keening like he’s being struck, a gasping that violently gags and stoppers in his chest. His face twisted, blotching, his eyes swollen, and the picture he makes is ugly, rent-open, decimated, bawling into the body he’s crushed up against him. Rag-doll limbed. Ashen.

They can’t make him let go. His cries transform and degrade into wails, garbled wordless, the horizon of language lost. They aren’t even sure if he knows they’re there. The sound pouring out of him is frenzied, delirious and anguished by surviving the unsurvivable alone. He fades hoarse through the ruin he has made of his throat and then he just weeps into Jon’s chest, and still he will not let go.

Melanie’s the one that stops him using the knife the first time. Wrestling it from his grip more out of surprise than shock at Georgie’s shout, and her anger is poisoned with her panic, throwing it to one side and hearing it clatter, snarling that I’m not going to fucking bury both of you, you hear me, don’t even think about it, fuck you, you think this is what he would have wanted, you think we want to lose you too?

Martin doesn’t reply.

They are not fast enough to stop him the second time he tries.

--

There are two men, strangers to these parts, who moved into the village from elsewhere like seeds caught on breeze. They plant their roots in uneasy soil. They talk to no one, versed in polite but guarded pleasantries, their greeting smiles to-the-point and weathered like coastal walls to withstand even the most inquisitive of questioners.

The one who is tall has the pared-down appearance of someone who has lost a lot of weight through some wasting that gnaws upon him. A gauntness that accentuates the furrows and gulleys and crags of his face, worsens the snow-stark white of his hair. The one who is short has been formed naturally sharp in features, although the brown of his eyes is mellow, prone to distance and otherwise unremarkable. The rumour mill, that tumbles in cycles of chatter that rolls from suspicious to musing, supposes some great and devastating fire to account for the injuries on his hands and the exposed skin of his face and neck, the pocked divots like scattered spark burns, ragged scars from shrapnel of some kind.

The one who is short limps on a sturdy walking stick, fashioned from an oak branch divorced from its tree in a storm. Any travel ventured upon is slow and demonstrably an effort. His free hand clasped in the hand of the one who is tall, who decks himself in layers even in the mildest of weathers, whose eyes are biting as hailstones, awashed grey and framed with bruising as though his dreams are rarely kind.

They re-painted the outer walls of their house last summer, when the temperature wallowed sticky and dense and glorious. The tree in their garden has fruited its first pears, few and stunted but a start that promises better crops come next year.

There is the hope that the strangers are happy.

If they are, it remains nobody’s business but their own.

[mypersonmyg]

The Misery Chick | MYG

thank you to my favorite @kimtaehyunq for the wonderful banner, ily you talented cutie <3

pairing: Yoongi x reader

genre: fluff, a lil tiny bit of angst, college au

wc: 5.2k (issa short one)

warnings: language

summary: maybe yoongi has a fat crush on you OR he notices, that’s all

a/n: happy birthday to the one and only min yoongi! i am so so fond of him and i couldn’t not write something for him, so I hope you enjoy :D and as always feel free to send in drabble requests for the fic and blah blah blah...

honorary tag: @gukssunshine​

masterlist

To wonder about the quickened stride of the beating appendage in Yoongi’s chest, would be to question the routine catch of gaze to the lone figure at the far end of the classroom, dwarfed by cuddled fabric, consumed with the rapid turn of the lengthy page. His arm rests atop the desk’s surface, supporting the chin that minutely dips with your every flicker of expression, the parting of your lips in gasp mimed by his own. His eyes are glazed under bright light, lids threatening to blink, the passage of time too fast, but oh so slow. 

Yoongi’s knowledge is second hand, rumblings of your demeanor spread through the vine of dialogue that floats coincidentally through his ears to connect with the edges of his brain, chewed and regurgitated without second thought. He holds his refusal to high regard, refusal to believe that you’re nothing more than a student, disgruntled by circumstance. It’s not simple attraction that guides his mind to the eye of logic, the region of reason, though it was the peak of initial interest.

He notices, and that’s all. 

He notices the round of your puffed cheeks that follows a particularly surprising piece of narrative. He notices the seat left empty between you and the wall, open but not a forced invitation, and he notices the way your posture straightens when someone grazes a hair too close. He notices the deflation of your shoulders when you’re left without pair during lessons framed with the inopportunity of interaction forced to simulate the false reality of reality itself. He notices the things others are blind to in their half squint, though the picture is still blurred like the edges of a polaroid. 

The numbness of his wrist, angled by the rest of his chin, draws him from captivation despite motivation to outlast the congregation huddle before you, their fronts focused toward him, his view obscured by obligation of association. His lips form the curvature of amiability necessary for pleasantry, neck craning to the defense of blue jeans offending his locked gaze.

“Can you stop staring so hard? She’s gonna eat you alive,” Hoseok’s finger nudges at the round of Yoongi’s jaw, urging his attention completely away from his person of interest. 

“Fuck off, you don’t even know her.” 

“Neither do you, despite your dedication to staring holes into her side every chance you get. They don’t call her ‘the misery chick’ for nothing, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her smile.” The jab rubs the wrong direction, Yoongi’s hand landing with a thud to the thick of Hoseok’s skull. “Come on, it’s a joke.”

“Maybe to you, and to everyone else, but she is a person. You guys just don’t look beyond what you wanna see because then she’s more than just a good laugh.” Every utterance of the moniker draws is lips to a downward twitch, fists balling in the pocket of his hoodie or scraping at the fabric of stressed jeans. It’s knowing that if he’s heard it you have ten fold, the thought harboring the wish that he could fold you inward, close to the beat of his chest to shield from the displeasure of words half baked with stupidity and the ignorance of hilarity. 

“Well not everyone wants to see her between the sheets.”

Interruption of the education saves Hoseok from the verbal spar pending within the fire engulfing Yoongi’s pupils. A place of love harbors the words of war, he knows this, knows that Hoseok’s plan is to rile to the point of action, but he’s driven to the brink of insanity by twisted words of encouragement. The kindest person on the planet playing into the stereo of broken records hurled toward the edges of your delicate framing, . 

Yoongi’s hands curl around his pen, ballpoint and already dancing the page, jotting words flown from one canal to the other and back to the atmospheric toxins of brains shorting caffeine. His sleeves are suddenly burning, neck itching with the heat of nerves crawling outward from within the confines of his collar. He glances toward Hoseok staring absently at Yoongi’s decorative scrawl, raising a brow to colliding gazes.

“Is it hot?” Yoongi puckers in mumble, swiping at the skin kissing the fringe sweeping his eyeline. Hoseok’s head careens in the negative, averting gaze to the front of the room, professor droning about the coming assignment, a project that Yoongi barely catches wind of. 

The plague responsible for his discomfort of familiarity is comfort enough to stop the distant tremble of shoulders keen to the stare that meets his eyes from the room’s opposing side. He jolts, or rather the calm of his heart picks back to pace, when his eyes meet irises reflective of his own.  They’re gone as soon as he finds them, but he’s confident that the cool of his neck is confirmation that sanity isn’t all lost. 

“Dude, could you take your notes? I’m gonna need those later,” Hoseok nudges at his forearm, limp from distraction. Yoongi hurries to scribble missed lecture, patient for a lull in speech to make room for declaration. 

“She was looking at me.” 

“What?” 

“Y/n, she was looking at me. I saw her...I felt her.” 

“Maybe she was just staring off into space because this class is a snooze-fest.” Hoseok speaks through the timing of yawn, perfectly punctuating his point. “She probably doesn’t even know you exist. Though, I guess everyone knows you exist, so maybe she just doesn’t care.” 

The words aren’t false, Yoongi’s following his beyond the definition of quaint, his celebrity following him from the rush of the court to the thrill of the keys. He’s hard pressed for a moment of peace, but he often finds it here, lost in you. 

“I’m serious.”

Yoongi sighs an audible defeat, Hoseok’s dropped lids and the rest of his chin atop folded arms a clear sign that his mind is beyond the classroom and beyond Yoongi’s own romantic woes. The end of the lecture appears miles from the start, the wave of dismissal a spell releasing its hold on the shackles chaining the  ghoulish appearance of sleepless students. 

Yoongi has worked himself to the brink of decision by the end of the lecture, sure enough that his stride to your desk will prove a build in the shy tint of his cheeks when he musters a faint ‘hello’. The pan of his half thought out plan doesn’t sort as well as he hoped, the rush of legs scurrying for the door tripping him up in his rush to the chair where you patiently filed notebook to bag. 

His vision is blurred by the passage of sweaters and hoodies, emblems emblazoned on sleeves and beanies sagging from the tips of bedhead. Hoseok follows after his stride in a confused wake from the desk that housed his sleepy head for the last seventy minutes, stumbling along with the drag of feet on tile. 

When destination is met, your chair is neatly housed, your figure nowhere to be found, Yoongi paces back, his sizable sneaker just scuffing the metal recline of an adjacent chair. 

“What are you doing?” Hoseok clutches the muscled fabric of Yoongi’s shoulder, stopping near disaster following the weighted displacement of the two. 

“Nothing, let's get lunch.”

The passage of days are a haze in the midst of the craze of midterms and Yoongi’s attempt to find reason to believe your glance was more than a passing innocence. The press of his back to his mattress, sheets freshly laundered, linens, scented of the artificial makings of fresh lilac courtesy of Jeongguk, are used to his mid-day collapse for a pre-study snooze. He’s swallowed whole beneath the dense of his comforter, fingers curling into the soft material, lips emitting a sigh of satisfaction. 

The buds in his ears are a dull hum, white noise to saturate the crevices of his brain still vibrating from the surge of knowledge consumed at the twice rapid pace of the semester’s schedule. His lids are aflutter, pupils rolling to the dark precipice, the unconscious already tugging at the bits of his subconscious manifested to snooze.  

The muscles of his pillowy cheeks fight upward against the smush to the firm cushioning of his mattress, arms cuddled around the decorative cushion of deep blue. A pitched giggle echoes in the receptors of his brain, bouncing against the walls, a comforting sound. It’s foreign though, the melodic stutter, yet it engulfs his chest with the warmth of affection, his stomach turning with nerves of the giddy sort. 

He teeters on the edge of more, features dancing between streams, a waterfall blur. Yoongi aches for the reach, his physical and metaphorical being extending from the depths of his full size bed, yearning for the exploration of the four walls and beyond. He can swear his fingers graze the soft of skin, the trace of lip curved in sensuality just visible through sleepy haze. The giggles grow in volume, almost as if guided toward his hasty reach. 

“Jeongguk, shut up!” Yoongi falls forward, just catching onto the ledge of his dresser, quick reflexes doing wonders for his physical well being, but the skip in his mental and the stop of his heart are undeniable. 

He's heard the voice a handful of times, an arm eagerly shooting to respond to a professor’s quarry, the hidden mumblings that he swears he’s the only one to pick up on, his smirk almost never enough to stop impending chuckle.

It’s you. 

He knows, but can’t quite grasp that just beyond the barrier of belief, past the door sealed to keep from disturbance you’re somewhere laughing with Jeongguk. He listens for a moment, unmoving, to attempt a deciphering of your intentions, but laughter has turned to the inaudible mumblings from the room across the hall.  He’s silent in his trek to the door, pulling it on rusted hinges, cringing with every scrape of copper and wood. 

He slips down the hall on tiptoe, unsure if you’re attune to the other members of the house, but not ready to face you if Jeongguk’s door swings back to reveal the occupants of the small cubical. Yoongi makes way to the kitchen, surprised to find the rest of his roommates crowded into the sizable space, each occupied with their own endeavor of strewn textbooks and half frozen toaster strudel. 

“Well well look who’s awake,” Jimin sneers playfully in Yoongi’s direction, drawing attention from the rest of the room. 

“Bet I can guess why,” Taehyung snickers, glances exchanged with a conspiratorial air, the shift of Yoongi’s feet not unnoticed by his personal tormentors. “We told Jeongguk he might wanna keep it down, we know how you like your rest.” 

“Jeongguk didn’t wake me,” Not the correct turn of phrase, realized just moments late, the flicker of pupils raising with the feigned ah ha! Yoongi side steps them all, settling on the sphere of orange grabbing his interest from the bowl on the table, plopping into the nearest chair. 

“Oh he didn’t? Well what other reason could you possibly have to forgo your pre-study nap, hmmm?” Jin pokes at the slightly greened peel of Yoongi’s fruit, hand smacked away with haste. He withdraws to card through his hair, lengthening by the day, framing his face with more beauty than should be allowed by the ethereal senior. 

“I was hungry, s’all.” He tosses scraps with each peel of fruitful flesh, eagerly sliding bits of tangerine past his puckered lips. Anything to keep his mind from the fresh dose of giggles eating at his brain like a love bitten parasite. “Who—umm, who does Jeongguk have over.” 

“Oh, Kookie has a friend over? We had no idea,” Namjoon hums, glasses perched to the bridge of his nose, arms eaten by the sleeves of his hoodie. 

“Maybe you recognize their voice? I mean, you’re the only one close enough to hear it.” Hoseok’s grin is shit eating, half hidden behind the length of his hand, fingers curling in position at the tip of his chin. 

“Oh, oh! I think I recall him saying something about a...Y/—hmmm was it…” Taehyung fakes stumbles over the name, tips of his fingers tracing the glass of his crumbed plate. 

“Y/n.” Yoongi speaks through teeth clenched, his cheeks rosy from snatched sleep and the scrutiny he’s placed himself under, the heat of a lamp concentrated in the five pairs of eyes trained on his every movement for their amusement. 

“So you do know her, why don’t you go say hi?” Jin pats him with vigour, the sound of an echoed frame permeating the air of what Yoongi has affectionately titled, friendly toxicity. Those same muffled voices grow with the trek down the stairs, threatening to give way with each step. Yoongi lifts his eyes from his half eaten fruit for the first time since he sat down, daring them to say a word out of turn with a single look. 

“It’s pretty quiet considering seven guys live here,” Your voice is audible from the front door, Yoongi’s grip tightening, juice spilling down the crevices of his hand, soiling his shirt sleeve, palms already sticky from the stress. “I have one roommate and, as you’ve seen, she can be loud enough for the both of us.” 

“I’m just as surprised as you are actually. I know Yoongi is probably asleep,” Yoongi sinks into his chair, knowing glances threatening to drop him straight through the wooden surface. “The rest are probably out.” 

“Yoongi?” Your voice strays a bit, Yoongi’s lip twitching, unsure what to think of the sudden strain in pitch. 

“Yeah, do you know him?” 

“Oh, um...kinda? Not really, we share a class together, but we’ve never talked. I’m pretty sure he’d think he’s too cool for me anyways. You know, ‘misery chick’ and all.” Yoongi levels a stare at Hoseok whose arms lift in readied defense, though his own face conjures frown at your words. Your attention clearly never spotting the longing with which he’s leveled you for the past few months. 

“You’re not the ‘misery chick’,” Jeongguk’s voice holds firm reassurance, something Yoongi wishes he could give you, but he’s glued, too curious for the thought of impromptu interruption. “People are just jerks. Besides, Yoongi-hyung isn’t like that at all. He likes to pretend he doesn’t know how cool people think he is.” 

“Guess I’ll just have to take your word for it. I have to go, but I’ll see you tomorrow, Koo.” 

The door closes, Jeongguk just as soon rounding into the kitchen, tracks dead when there are six pairs of eyes trained on his figure. “Wha—have you all been here the whole time?” 

He only takes pause momentarily, his stride leading to the fridge, a juice box of all things pulled from metal confines. The naked eye would never guess the soft interior of Jeongguk, his features contrasting with the boots swallowing his feet and the tattoos eating his arm, tracing his digits. But he’s the walking embodiment of the careful youth painting each man posted in the room, a piece of him nursed by a piece of them with each day passing. 

“Yeah, we’re just hangin’ around, Jeonggukie.” Hoseok shrugs, ruffling the base of Jeongguk’s wild curls. 

“Well you’re doing it pretty quietly, Y/n thought it was weird.” 

“Are you guys dating?” Jimin’s question is thrown with abandon, eyes trained on Jeongguk with absolute focus, Yoongi sending a glare toward the silver haired fiend. 

“No.” Jeongguk pays little mind to the question, too busy squeezing every last drop from the box clutched in his fist, doe eyes glistening with concentration. “We met last semester in lit and she’s really cool so we started hanging out. You guys should meet her sometime, she doesn’t have a lot of friends because of this dumb rumor that she’s ‘the misery chick’ which is ridiculous because she’s one of the nicest people I’ve met here.” 

“Yeah, you can bring her over any time.” Namjoon encourages, book lowered to the table, face scrunching in mental agony when he realizes the corner of his novel is soaked with the spill of orange juice. 

“She said she knows you from class Yoongi, but she doesn’t think you’d like her. I think you would though! Maybe you should try to talk to her next class.” 

“Yeah,” Yoongi readily agrees, new found vigor in his speech. “Maybe…” 

Over the next several weeks, Yoongi is sure that coincidence isn’t what found his stare locked to yours, Jeongguk’s overheard conversation clearly leaving your interest peaked about Yoongi who was forced to make his own gazes less frequent for fear of being caught. His first sighting after he floated the walls of his home like a ghost in haunt was next lecture. 

The nerves that ate at his skin the first instance of your curious scan was turned bearable by the itching of excitement to his every nerve, skin alight with the tango of possibility traversing his very being. His attention was wayward, standing at the head of the class, scooping the pages required for lecture from the overflowing desk, a minute ‘excuse me’ cutting through the thick of his cogged brain. 

“Yes?” Was his response, regurgitated dumbly despite the forming line waiting for him to budge to his waiting seat. 

“Uh...could I get by...papers.” He smiles, unintentional, but the effect is the duck of your head, refusal to meet his eyes under such a heated gaze. He’s left to stare a moment longer before the snag of his sleeve, Hoseok forcing him away, calming the mob of students too impatient to momentarily still for the fruition of his romantic interest. 

Lately, your exit from class seems somehow quicker than usual, the practiced haste too much for him to master, another obstacle to his formal introduction. Though it seems your professor can read the tension that hovers the expanse of the classroom, a thread itching to be linked by two lovers, one unknowing of the delicate pull she has on her soul suitor. 

“Okay!” The professor stands at the front of the room, barely holding the attention of the class, barely holding Yoongi’s attention until he speaks once more. “Instead of a formal midterm, I want you all to complete a joint essay, yes you heard me correctly! I want you to pair up and write an essay on the topic of your choosing—as long as that topic is related to the course.” 

Yoongi perks up, ignoring the telltale that Hoseok hopes to grab him as soon as the class is dismissed because Yoongi has a plan of his own. 

“Of course I won’t force you to choose a partner, I know some of you prefer to work alone. But no more than two people to a group. Now I can see that you’re all on the edge of your seats, but I’m feeling generous today, so you’re dismissed, but your pages are due on my desk beginning of class Monday!” The final words of the professor send the class into frenzy, those who were paying attention quick to grab hold of their half and those who weren’t suddenly catching up and scrambling for someone who’ll make do.

“Hey, we’re partners, right?” Hoseok looks at Yoongi hopeful, but Yoongi already has his sights set on you, watching everyone link up, resigned to working solo. 

“Nah, I’ve got another partner in mind if that’s okay with you.” Hoseok catches the drift rather quickly, wide smile forgoing slight disappointment at his loss of the sure A on his midterm. 

“Go for it,” Hoseok gives a light shove forward, much appreciated by Yoongi whose heart threatens to burst from his chest, sure that the nerves are painted on his face like a slice of Van Gogh. He’s just in time, your hands shoved into your pockets, ready to leave the suffocation of a space smothered in unwelcome. 

“Hey.” Yoongi can see the uncertainty, your eyes glancing to either side to ensure that he is certainly addressing you. 

“Hey…” 

“So, this midterm thing is kinda weird, right?” He can already see the snicker on Hoseok’s face, though his friend is posted at the door opposite him. Your own lips quirk, his only thought of coherency aimed at how cute the action is. You rock on your heels, he notes your style isn’t far off from the bones of Jeongguk, hoodie black and heavy boots ready to stomp through endless waves of the nauseating sea of university. 

“Yeah...I guess it’s a little unconventional. But great for people who get test anxiety,” You humor him, hands withdrawing from jeaned confines to gesture wildly to the room void of anyone but the three remaining vessels, two of which are engaged in unlikely exchange. “Did you need something?” 

“Huh?” 

“Sorry! I don’t mean to be rude, but I have a class to get to and I have a thing about being late. I figure there’s a reason you’re talking to me seeing as we’ve never actually talked before…” You catch yourself in ramble, tripping over phrases whilst Yoongi watches without missing a beat. 

He’s incredibly taken with the way the words flow without pretense, a nice change to the closed off demeanor people falsely associate with you. He would listen for a lifetime to the things you have to say, hopefully with the clasp of finger and longing glances. Your intent is nonsense, nerves eating away at the buds of your tongue. To him it’s a poetry specially curated, a tickle to his throat bringing forth the soft laughter that halts your speech. 

“I’m sorry, you go ahead I’m just...nervous.” 

“No no, don’t apologize, I like listening to you,” He coos when you smile, quick to recover before your eyes, wide and attentive find his own once more, now notably softer, safer. “I love your smile too…” 

“You’re not so bad yourself…” Soft spoken and not altogether sure is the way you speak, your class long forgotten, a blip in rear view shadowed by the shining beacon before you. “So…?”

“Right, right...I was just wondering if you’d maybe wanna work together?” Despite compliments and hinted flirtation you’re taken aback by the offer, your eyes skirting Yoongi completely, raising question to the figure station by the exit. Hoseok offers you a smile you can’t help but return his thumbs raising in the affirmative. 

“He’s all yours,” Hoseok assures, taking his leave prematurely, Yoongi still waiting for confirmation. 

“No pressure, just thought I’d ask. I think we’d work well together,” And I wanna know you, he withholds for fear of frightening you more so than the sudden acknowledgement already has.

“Well I don’t know about that, but yeah I’d love to if you’re sure.” 

“I’m positive. Wanna meet at my place after school?” 

“Sounds good.” You pull your phone swiping at the screen before passing it over. “Just text me when you’re free.” 

“I’ll text the address,” He knows it’s unnecessary, just taking precautions to shield from the admission of his eavesdrop the last time you occupied the residence. You wait until you’re once again clutching the spherical confines of your devices, checking and double checking that all digits are present, not unfamiliar with the harsh reality of falsehood buried beneath genuine interest.

“Oh, I actually know where you live. My friend Jeongguk is one of your roommates, so I know my way.” 

“Well I’m sorry we’ve missed each other, that it took me so long to say hello.” Yoongi’s legs lead him half a step closer, an accidentally purposeful close of the gap between, your eyes avoid the bottom half of his face, focusing instead on the bill of his cap and the dark hair tickling the edges. 

“Guess you’ll just have to make up for it somehow.” 

“Guess I will.” 

Your visits to Yoongi are routine over the next week, the laughter filling the hectic halls caused by him rather than his roommates. He’s seen more of you in a week than he could’ve hoped in a lifetime, even more confused about the way you’ve been outcast by a majority of your major. He’s awed by your lack of reaction to the judgement of peers, often citing it as a joke, sarcasm lacing the words. 

It’s the day before assignment is due, you’re perched at Yoongi’s desk, he’s laying on his bed, tossing his basketball in mock free throw simultaneously with his toss of ideas while your fingers type vigorously in final draft. 

This particular evening leaves you alone with Yoongi, the other members of the house trying and failing to convince you to join for their weekly outing to the nearest bar where they would no doubt drink their weight to poorly prepare for the week to come. Yoongi was swift to opt out, much preferring your company to the stench of stale beer and jokes poorly executed by Jin after he downs his fifth shot. 

You were insistent that he let you handle the rest of the paper, just pages standing between you and your final product, but he’s too fond of the way your post-its decorate the shelf over his desk, different colored notes for every paragraph, the ink of your pens highlighting each point in magenta saturation. He’s obsessed with the way you hunch to close to the pages of your textbook while scolding him for getting too close to the screen of his laptop in the next breath. 

He can’t help the thought of what could be, close calls and a hair’s breadth stepping between you all week. It’s the price of seven roommates and a lock loosened with the jiggle of a handle. The hesitancy that still fills your pupils despite the easy way his words lace with genuine interest. 

Yoongi remembered what it was like to notice, deciding that it’s much better to experience you. The moment is delicate, your soft suggestions and argumentative replies tossed with a hint of tease lacing the bite of your tone. He doesn’t try to hide the smile that breaks the mold of his face, lips dampened by the press of gums prominent from healthy reach. 

“Can I ask you a question?” He raises, your fingers slowing against the keyboard, chair swiveling to offer full attention. “Does it bother you...the whole ‘misery chick’ thing?” 

He’s not sure what possesses it, but he is sure that knowing will make things easier, break a barrier that to him doesn’t exist. He knows your breath is baited, knows you’ve been waiting for the pull of the rug, so he offers a tug, a comforting teasing sort of thing to ease your mind and close the gap of misunderstanding that he could never blame you for. 

“Can I ask you a question? Do you believe the whole ‘misery chick’ thing?” You counter, scooting along hardwood until your knees are pressed to his mattress, sinking into the cushioned flesh as far as it allows. Your stare is careful, not expectant of the negative or offended by the positive. “It’s okay if you do, just don’t lie about it.” 

There's a sadness in your delivery and Yoongi notes it immediately. Your attempt to hide the twitch of your lip and the anxious fold of your hands in your lap don’t escape him. Your tone is even, your eyes much the same and he wonders how anyone could ever believe it, he’s grateful that he never did. 

“Not for a second.” He responds almost immediately, waiting for any lingering doubt on your end. It never comes.

“Good.” Is your reply, just as even as the question itself. Your shoulders relax, posture not as stiff as before. “It does bother me, not as much as it used to, but it does. It bothers me that they don’t like that I’m not like them. I don’t mean that in the whole ‘I’m not like other girls’ way, but I’m just not Cathy college, you know? I don’t get excited about parties and drinking, I don’t need to go out all the time to have fun, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you if you do, but I don’t and because I’m not like everyone else I have to be ‘the misery chick’.

He’s sure you don’t realize it, but Yoongi see’s the build of tears in your eyes, unshed but there and it breaks him. Breaks him that something so trivial could be the defining factor of someone’s experience, that you can hide it so well at the cost of your own happiness.

“I mean, it’s college, you’d think that people have better things to do than come up with reasons to ridicule someone, but I guess I have too much faith.” You finish, glancing up to find Yoongi all ears, lips etched in frown. “Sorry, you didn’t ask for all of that.” 

“People suck.” Is all he says, hand extending toward you, inviting you to join him on his island, silent but sure. You crawl the length of the mattress, your back pressing the headboard, fingers laced with his own, warm and sweaty from nerves, yours or his neither of you are sure. 

“People do suck.” 

“I know what’ll make you feel better.” He offers, thumb running along the jagged edges of your knuckle, skin kissing skin. You lift your head, half leaning on his shoulder so your eyes meet, a reflection of picture perfect, a record in perfect sync. 

“Yeah?” 

“You should go out with me.” Yoongi doesn’t expect a snort, but the response is exactly what he receives your head averting to conceal your laughter, hands shielding your face from the expanse of an ego deflated by the graze of your accidental needle. “Why are you laughing?” 

“No I’m not—I just—you’ve been looking at me like I’m completely insane all semester! I didn’t think you liked me, I thought you were looking right through me...I kinda thought you were just coming to class high every day.” 

“I don’t even smoke, those were not the eyes of a stoner, they were the eyes of a man who’s very fond of you.” Yoongi defends his position, his usually dormant stare now bugged to exaggeration, unavailable for serious consideration. 

“My mistake, though I don’t know whether to be weirded out or completely flattered.” 

“You better be so flattered that I can see hearts in your eyes because you were pretty quick to agree to be my partner for this project!” Yoongi keeps the charade, glad to lighten the tension and draw from the heaviness of the previous conversation. It’s not a chapter that’s closed, but the beginning is the build and he’s planning an entire novel with you, so he figures his time isn’t limited by the tick of a clock nearing the midnight hour. 

“I heard I’ve got a sure ‘A’  and I’d be an idiot to pass that up.” 

“You could get a passing grade in your sleep, you can’t fool me. But you can go on a date with me.”

“So you, cool guy Min Yoongi, want to go on a date with me, ‘the misery chick’?” You gasp, hand clutched to your chest, Yoongi’s hand catching hold and bringing it to his own, to the beat of his heart, the bass begging for a melody that only you can satisfy. 

“More than anything.” 

“Well when you put it that way I have no choice but to say yes, but to be clear, I’ve definitely seen you looking at Hoseok with that same look in your eyes so you might wanna sort some stuff out first—”

[valwentinefics]

I loved your Edward Cullen piece! I feel that that he would have a constant sexual urge brimming underneath and you accurately portrayed it boiling over. May i request another piece on how the MC and Esward met?

A/N: Sorry this took a bit, writers block + still being in school was tough but I managed, even If i’m not all that happy with the result! Prob will do a part 2 sorry the dialogue is awkward. I imagined like a scenario like the cannon universe where edward is into her but also scared of harming her but hes also just a teen boy with his first crush, both Y/n and edward arent sure how to act with it.

Tw: Being scared to walk alone at night?? Idk just put that just in case!! 

The midnight wind blew through Y/n’s hair, a chill running up her spine not just from the cold, but with every set of glowing headlights that passed her by. Y/n was never one to walk around at night, the fear of what may lurk had been pushed upon her since she was a child, and now as she wandered the dim streets her chest felt so tight with fear she wasn’t sure if she could breathe.  Y/n wished she had accepted Dr. Cullens offer of a ride home, but she didn’t want to inconvenience the man and instead lied about taking a taxi. Her and Dr. Cullen had become close over the past few weeks that she had been volunteering at the hospital, hoping to gain experience when she applied to universities to be a doctor. The two were inseparable there, Y/n watching with wide eyes and bated breath whatever the doctor did, and Carlisle carefully walking her through step by step the process of what he was doing. 

She pulled her sweater tighter around her body as she rounded the corner into an alleyway her e/c coloured eyes darting around. She could see her breath as she tried to calm her breathing, but that was proved futile when she stepped on a can, the loud crunch startling a scream out of her. “Get it together Y/n.” She muttered, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment, trying to regain composure as she heard distant voices approaching. Her hand, stiff from cold, dug into her pocket, grabbing her keys and sticking them through the paces between her fingers. Feeling a little better, Y/n continued her walk.

Y/n had to admit, despite her terror, the night time in forks was beautiful. The way the streets were illuminated by the passing headlights of cars, and the occasional coloured lights of stores reflected through the puddles that seemed to forever be there in the rainy city had the ability to take her breath away despite how small they were. The awe of the neon painted town distracted her from the silent footsteps coming behind her.

“Y/n?” Spoke a familiar voice. She spun around at the sound of her name, her grip on her keys tightened, only to loosen a bit when she recognized the man in front of her. Edward Cullen. “It’s late, why are you out here alone? You must be cold.” Y/n hadn't talked to the Cullen boy before, or really any Cullen other than Carlisle. At school the Cullen kids seemed like an untouchable group, but seeing him now, soaking wet, she felt as if he wasn't so high above the rest as everyone thought.

“I-I’m fine. Just a little chilly.” She lied, feeling the chill seep past the wet sweater she wore and into her body. The Cullen boy seemed to notice it was a lie, taking off his jacket and placing it over her shoulders in a fluid movement. “But won’t you get--”

“I don’t get cold easily.” Edward cut off her question, “Besides, my car is nearby. It’ll be warm in there.”

“No no it’s fine I’ll just take a cab.” Y/n said quickly, though the feeling of being in a warm car filled her thoughts she didn’t want to inconvenience anyone and much preferred to do things on her own despite her empty wallet disagreeing.

“It’ll be no inconvenience, besides It’ll save you money.” He replied as if he read her mind. Y/n opened her mouth to come up with a reason to not go with him but all that came out was a sneeze.

“See, you’re already catching a cold. Lets go.” Edward put his hand on the small of her back and began to lead Y/n to a Volvo parked on the side of the road. Y/n felt bad for bothering him but she could feel herself getting sicker with every sniffle, and her body was ice cold. She really wished she had initially accepted Dr. Cullen’s offer for a ride, fear dawning on her as she realized she would have to call in sick. If Edward noticed how she was feeling, he didn’t show it, staying silent as he ushered her into the car and passed her a blanket he had stored inside.

The car ride was quiet, the air between the two thick and awkward as they both figured out what to say. Y/n wished she could read minds, know what he was thinking. She hoped he wouldn’t tell Dr.Cullen about the meeting between the two, not wanting to appear like she rejected his car ride for any reason other than her own stupid independence. Y/n was about to say something, a question about how he found the weather, anything to make the ride less awkward, when he pulled up to her house. Quick pleasantries were exchanged between the two and Y/n headed inside, only realizing she had Edwards' coat once he had pulled away.

For the next few days the Cullen's were no shows at school. Y/n had the coat stashed in her locker to give to him, and yet she couldn’t find him. It drove Y/n insane. Every day she would walk into the cafeteria ready to finally get rid of this coat whose presence was weighing heavy on her subconscious, only to face disappointment when he wasn’t there. She knew a jacket wasn’t all that important in the long term, but it smelled so much like Edward’s car and reminded her of him and his stupidly attractive face, Y/n wanted to rid herself of it before her budding crush blossomed into a full blown one. It took a few days for Y/n to muster up the courage to talk to Dr.Cullen about it. Worries filled the back of her mind that he would think her to be stupid or weird, but as the were cleaning up for the night Y/n decided to bite the bullet.

Y/n sprayed the sharp smelling sanitizer on the table, wiping it down with a cloth and repeating on the next, her lips pursed as she thought of how to bring up the situation to the doctor across the room from her, who was busy looking over papers. Luckily the blonde seemed to notice first, standing up from his seat and walking over.

“Y/n, what’s on your mind?” He asked casually yet looking at her with the look of concern only a father could give.

“Well a while ago, when you offered me a ride home because my car was in the shop and I said no and I would take a taxi, I actually decided to walk home because I didn’t want to bother you and then I ran into your son Edward and he gave me a ride home, but then I forgot to give it back to him, so could you?” Y/n asked, her words spilling out of her mouth quickly, glad she could finally get the situation off her chest.

Carlisle chuckled, grabbing a sticky note and writing on it, handing it to Y/n. “I have got to stay late but here’s my address. You can go give him it now or later.” 

Y/n nodded, giddy with the excitement of finally getting away from the burden of having to return the coat. “You’ll be fine here without me?” she asked cautiously before she got too excited.

Carlisle nodded. “Yes, go give my son his coat. And tell him he needs to wear it more often.”

The Cullen’s house was beautiful at night. A mansion buried in the woods, it seemed so serene. Y/n wished she lived there so she could gaze out of the many lit up windows and into the forest. But there was no time for daydreaming about the lush scenery, Y/n was on a mission. She held the grey fabric tightly as she stepped out of the car, nervously approaching the door. She hadn’t heard of anyone going to the Cullen’s house, was she the first from her school? She was nervous as she approached the door, about to knock when the door opened, revealing a small teen with a dark pixie cut. Was it Alexa Cullen? Y/n wasn’t too sure on their names.

“Edward, a cute girl is here for you!” The girl, possibly named Alexa, shouted into the house. “You are here for Edward right?”

“Uh, yeah…” Y/n said awkwardly, looking to the ground and tightening her grasp on the jacket, looking at the pavement that was illuminated by the open door. After a few moments of silence the light disappeared and she looked up, her eyes meeting Edward’s piercing amber ones that seemed to know her deepest secrets.

“I’ll leave you two lovebirds at it” the girl chimed, closing the door and locking Edward outside.

“Sorry about my sister Alice, she’s a little…odd” Edward trailed off, looking to the side. Y/n was glad to know the name of the girl before, but also happy to just look at Edward, as creepy as it sounded. He looked perfect as always, hardly a strawberry blonde hair out of place, and those that were just made him look more perfect. Y/n could feel herself falling hard. Ever since the night he helped her out he seemed irresistible.

“It’s fine…” Y/n replied, the two sitting in silence for a while before Y/n remembered her task. “Oh here, I came to bring you your coat. So, uh, yeah..” She pressed the balled up grey coat into his hands. “Carlisle said you need to wear it more.”

Edward let out a chuckle. “I guess I’ll have to…” he stared at the grey fabric as if it would tell him what to say next.

“So I’ll go then?” Y/n said, though it sounded like a question. She didn’t want to bother him more than needed and began so walk away, pausing only when she heard his voice.

“Wait, before you go. Dinner, Friday, at eight? To make up for the effort you put in giving me my jacket back.” Y/n felt butterflies fly through her stomach, wondering if he possibly liked her back.

“Dinner… sounds good…” Y/n blushed with a smile to the ground, waiting for him to go back inside before giddily running back to her car. “I got a date with Edward Cullen!” She sang to herself as she pulled out of the driveway, oblivious to her crush smiling inside the house at her thoughts.

[ricksroaches]

Y/N part 1 - Dysphoria ch. 5

pairing: Yoongi x Reader, OT7 x Reader (platonic)

summary: Y/N has an accident at a Halloween party that sends her further down the wrong path.

notes: Occasionally I'll make some grammatical errors on purpose for emotional emphasis so that's why. Also sorry this took so long I'm kinda going through some stuff right now.

word count: 16.9k

warnings: language, drugs, self harm, mental hospitalization, shitty parents, near drowning, anxiety attack, overdose, hospitalization, miscarriage, sedation

“Do you know why you’re here, Y/N?”

“Spare me. I’ve done this before.”

“I know you have. I’m simply asking if you understand that you need this.”

“I don’t.”

“You don’t understand?”

“No, I mean that I don’t need this.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because I’ve already accepted that this is how I feel, and how I’ll keep feeling ‘til I die. No amount of talking it out and coping skills will change that.”

“Well, that’s not a very healthy way to look at it.”

“Yeah, no shit, but it works for me and I’d appreciate it if people didn’t waste their time trying to fix me so they can feel better about themselves.”

“I understand.”

“Obviously, you don’t. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here.”

“I do. I’m not here to tell you what you're doing wrong. I’m here to figure out how and why you got to where you are.”

“What, you gonna pick apart my life and tell me where everything went wrong?”

“Not exactly.”

“Then what?”

“Well first, I’d like to go back and discuss your experience at St. Joseph’s.”

“I don’t really feel like talking about that.”

“Y/N, these sessions are mandatory. No matter how much you resist, we’re still stuck here, so you might as well take advantage of the time we still have.”

“…”

“Or, we could just here in silen-”

“Fine. Anything but that.”

~~~

8TH GRADE

The cold classroom was silent except for the steady tick of the clock on the wall. It was only third hour and Y/N already wanted to jump out a window. She’d long finished her classwork and homework, so she buried herself in her sketchbook. Drawing was always her safe place. She found it meditative being able to just turn off her brain and let the pencil map out her mind.

Everyone jumped a little when the intercom released its usual loud beep. “I need to see Y/N L/N in the office.” Her stomach fluttered at the chance to get out of class. “And tell her to bring her things.” She halted. What? She didn’t have any appointments that she knew of, and her parents weren’t the type to check her out for minor things. Her head pounded while she stuffed everything in her backpack with everyone, including her teacher, watching her.

Backpack slung over one shoulder, she made her way down the bland cream and blue hallway that she’d spent the last three miserable years in. Jimin was her best friend all through elementary school, but he switched to a private school, leaving her to fend for herself in a new school of unfamiliar faces. He didn’t want to leave her, but the school she was going to didn’t have a dance department, and his mom had convinced him to go. By the time she found out that the school in question had the best arts program in the district, it was too late. There was no way her parents could afford to send her there anyway.

She’d be lying if she said she was happy he was pursuing his dream. Making friends wasn’t an easy task, Jimin was always the one that did the talking. So she settled for whoever cared enough to give her the time of day. There was only one person she was actually close enough with to hang out outside of school, Abigail. To say she was the dominant one in their relationship would be an understatement. Whatever Abi said, went. Whatever Abi wanted, she got. Whatever she wanted to do, Y/N was dragged along whether she liked it or not. She didn’t mind that much. It was better than no one.

The office door came into view, and she ran over every possible circumstance in her head before opening it. Her parents stood by the front desk. Her dad was clutching her mom’s trembling hand. “Mom? Dad? What’s going on? Did somebody die??”

“No, everything’s fine. We’ll explain on the way.” Her dad took it upon himself to answer.

“Uh...o-kay?”

The second her dad pulled the car onto the road, her mom turned around to face her. “I don’t really know how to start this, so I’m just going to say it. I was cleaning your room last week and found something.”

“What?” She pulled an old DVD case from the glove box and set it in Y/N’s lap. Every single defense mechanism in her body went off at once as she gawked at the image of a black bobbed Uma Thurman laying on a bed with racey magazines, puffing on a cigarette. Her favorite movie. But she knew it wasn’t the inappropriate film that her parents were concerned about. She slid the plastic sheath off to reveal-. They weren’t there.

“Looking for these?” Her mom held up her palm stacked with the razor blades she’d tucked behind the cover. Y/N’s face turned a sickly white, her mouth opening and closing to think of something to say. Her mind was moving so fast her words couldn’t keep up. She had nothing.

“Really? You have nothing to say for yourself?” She subconsciously pulled down her sweater sleeves. Her mom snatched her wrist and yanked the knit fabric back. “How could you do this to yourself?” She turned her arm to make her look at the pale pink and red lines that peppered all the way up her arm. “This is going to stay on you forever. What do you expect people to think when summer comes?”

Y/N dropped her head against the headrest and squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head. Of all the scenarios she thought of, this wasn't one of them. This had to be a dream. It had to be. She tried to pull her arm away and her mom let go, letting it fall to her side. She turned to her dad with a look that screamed, Say something! He simply shook his head in disappointment.

The car was silent for a long time before she finally mustered the strength to open her mouth. “W-where are we going...?”

“A Catholic youth center.”

“A youth center?”

“Yes. They offer great adolescent counseling.”

“But I don't want to.” She crossed her arms defensively.

“Y/N, we just want to get you help, but we can’t do this on our own.” Her dad finally spoke up.

“It’s a nice place. Sister Adrianne from church volunteers there.” Her mom added.

They turned into the parking lot of an old fashioned brick building decorated with stained glass and white molding. She could smell the Catholicism from here. A black suit, white collared man was waiting for them at the entrance once they’d found a parking space. His wire rimmed glasses caught the late morning sun, shining it right in Y/N’s eyes. That alone was enough to make her scowl. “Hello, I’m Father McCarthy, you must be the L/Ns.” Her parents exchanged pleasantries with him before he led them into the lobby.

Sitting smack dab in the middle of the room was a marble statue of St. Joseph, patron saint of children. Y/N scoffed to herself. She hated this place already. The priest spun on his heels to face the family. “If you don’t mind, I was hoping to have a word with Miss Y/N before the tour.” They looked at each other, shrugged, and nudged the poor girl out to him. “It won’t take but a minute.” He said before cupping her shoulder and steering her through the lobby to a set of backdoors.

Outside was a meditation garden that spanned farther than she could see. Cobblestone paths twisted and turned around rose bushes and vines of ivy. The steady flow of the fountain at the center gave the air a calming ambience. Y/N was anything but calm. “Why are we here?”

“I thought maybe a look at the garden would suit your nerves.” He caught her confused stare and laughed lightly. “Your mask is thick, strong, but I can see deeper than most.”

“I appreciate the effort, but it takes more than some pretty flowers to make me feel better. Are we done?” He sighed and checked his watch.

“I suppose. Right this way.” He placed a guiding hand on her back and steered them to the path out of the garden and inside. Her stride slowed when she saw her parents standing in the lobby, a suitcase in her dad’s hand. Her suitcase. A man in white scrubs took it from him and carried it in the other direction. Everything clicked.

¨No…” She breathed, her head mindlessly shaking. She stepped back and bumped into something firm and whipped around. Another man in the same white uniform towered over her. His face was gentle but his jacked body told a completely different story. His hand clamped onto her bicep. “No, no, no, nonoNONO!” She frantically looked to her parents, who were standing at the exit with pain stricken faces. Her mom buried her head into him while she heard her daughter being dragged away kicking and screaming by two nurses. She’d never forget the final words she caught before she disappeared behind a set of swinging doors.

“I’LL NEVER FORGIVE YOU!”

~~~

“Did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Did you ever forgive your parents?”

“I tried, but she ruined it.”

“How?”

~~~

Y/N followed her screaming, cussing mom through the house as she took trips from her room to the porch, tossing her belongings out onto the lawn.

She’d found her stash.

“Mom! Stop it! This is childish!” she stopped in her tracks and whipped around to face her daughter.

“CHILDISH?!” She took an aggressive step forward. “I’LL TELL YOU WHAT”S CHILDISH! STEALING FROM YOUR OWN PARENTS TO BY DRUGS!” Y/N threw her hands into her hair and tugged at her scalp.

“It’s just weed! And I bought it with my own money! It’s not like I’m doing crack!” She looked to her dad sitting in his chair in the corner of the living room, observing the whole debacle. “Dad? Help?” He gave her a look of surrender. Not my call. Her mom disappeared back into her room.

“IT DOESN'T MATTER WHAT YOU’RE DOING!” Her mom shouted as she threw another handful of clothes out the door. “AFTER ALL THE MONEY WE SPENT ON YOU AND YOU GO AND BUY DRUGS?! IT’S LIKE YOU CHOOSE TO BE MISERABLE!” Y/N pounded across the floorboards and got nose to nose with her.

“OH, I’M SO SORRY YOU HAD TO PAY TO THROW YOUR OWN DAUGHTER IN A PSYCH WARD BECAUSE NOT HAVING A NORMAL KID WAS TOO HARD FOR YOU! AND I’M SORRY YOUR HUSBAND WAS TOO PUSSY TO STOP YOU! AND YOU KNOW WHAT’S MAKING ME MISERABLE?! YOU!”

“THEN GET THE FUCK OUT! GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE!” Her mom shoved her by the shoulders into the wall.

“FINE!” Y/N stomped to her room and grabbed her backpack, stuffing in as many necessities as she could. She threw it over her shoulder and blew past her still fuming (and still cussing) mom. “Good fucking riddance!” she shouted over her shoulder. She swiped her car keys from the bowl and slammed the front door behind her so hard she heard a line of books topple to the floor inside. The lock on the door clicked and the curtains at the front of the house were hastily drawn.

She lividly gathered her clothes and suitcase strewn about the grass and crammed them into her shitty grey Corolla wherever they could fit. She dropped into the driver's seat and ripped the car out of the driveway and down the dimly lit street.

She crashed at Jimin’s for a bit while she looked for a place. Abi was long gone by then. Back when she was at St. Joseph’s, she’d called Abi for comfort, but what she didn’t know was that she happened to be at a sleepover, and that she’d put her on speaker. It didn’t take long for Y/N to hear a muffled giggle from the other end, and it was safe to say their friendship died the second she slammed the hospital phone receiver back onto its hook.

She didn’t need her anymore. Not with Jimin coming back for high school. He begged his mom to let him go to public school so he could be with Y/N again. What managed to convince her was the impressive dance team the school boasted.

Within the first week away from home, a packet of government documents for her emancipation arrived in her parents’ mail. She was surprised to receive a phone call from her attorney the next day, saying he already received the pettily signed forms and that they’d been filed with the district court. That was it. In a few months, she would be legally on her own. Sixteen years old and on her own.

~~~

“Good. That was good. I know that wasn’t the easiest thing to say, just know that it’s a step in the right direction.”

“Whatever. Are we done?”

“I suppose.”

~~~

Y/N sat on Yoongi’s lap while she painted his hairline into a V and thickened his sideburns into a more boxy shape. His hair was slicked back and he sported a suit and bolo tie. It didn’t take much to convince him to dress as Vincent and Mia from Pulp Fiction for Halloween. She bit the inside of her red painted lips while she cleaned up the edges of his widow’s peak with a steady hand.

It was a lot weirder than Yoongi expected to see her in a wig. The silky black bob made it feel like a complete stranger was parked on his thighs. Her unbuttoned white blouse and wide-bottomed slacks the complete opposite of her usual style. The only thing about her that was the same as he always loved were her eyes. He admired the e/c orbs that flicked back and forth in concentration, oblivious of his gaze.

“I think I’m done.” She leaned back and moved his face side to side to make sure his sideburns were even. “Yeah, you're good to go.” She gave his cheek two solid pats and climbed off his lap to get her shoes. He stood from her bed and checked himself out in her full length mirror. His hair had grown out quite a bit. Long enough to brush the back of his neck when he turned his head. He didn’t think he’d like how he looked with this hair, but it was quickly growing on him.

Y/N came up from behind and wrapped her arms around his torso. She peaked her head around his shoulder to admire his look put together. “If I didn’t know a better word, I’d say you look hot right now.” He caught her eye in the mirror with a smirk as he smoothed back his hair once last time.

“I think,” He pulled her in front of him to see her reflection, “I should be the one saying that.” He slid his hands up her shirt and adjusted the black bralette hidden underneath that had been wrinkled from her hunching over him. Her skin tingled under his large, warm hands. That asshole. He did that on purpose. He dipped his head to be even with hers. “Now, we should go before I mess up that lipstick of yours.”

~~~

Jin leaned against the kitchen counter and surveyed the frat house filled with college and high school students alike. Cobwebs stretched over every corner and fog machines gave the air a dark, heavy look. He always loved throwing his annual Halloween party. It was his favorite holiday other than his birthday. Couples cutely matching, friends coordinating costumes, comedians in gag outfits, and almost every girl wearing a sexy version of what we all dressed as kids. He loved any excuse to dress up.

He wore a loose white tunic and black slacks, his defining piece was the pink and blue diamond printed coat hanging from his shoulders. Howl from, only his favorite movie ever, Howl’s Moving Castle. He watched that shit like it was his job.

“Damn, do you need a maid? I’m not an old lady, but I can cook and clean.” He spun and met a smirking Jimin. His white dress shirt was unbuttoned, black tie loosened, hair tousled, and red lipstick marks trailed from his chest all the way to his cheeks. Jin eyed the scene with visible concern. “Relax, this is my costume. I have a little class.”

“Oh, thank God.” Jin laughed.

“Although some of these are courtesy of some lovely ladies here tonight.” He turned to show the words “KISS ME” written on his back in big letters.

“How did you even get them to agree to do that?” Jimin flashed a proud smile.

“It was easy. Girls aren’t threatened by me. Being part gay is great, you get the best of both worlds!” Jins phone buzzed in his pocket.

Thing 1: Me and Yoongi are about to pull up

Jin smiled at his screen and typed a quick response.

“Who’s Thing 2?” He turned to the younger looking over his shoulder.

“You.” Before Jimin could offer a rebuttal, Jungkook squeezed out of the crowd and nested at his side, beer in hand.

“There’s my Ponyboy!” Jimin gave him a slap on the back. Jungkook's hair was greased back with a single curl hanging on his forehead. His white t-shirt and jeans matched well with Yoongi’s leather jacket that he lended for the occasion. “Doesn’t he scream Ponyboy vibes?”

“I’ll admit it,” Jin added, “he does.” Jungkook took a sip of his beer to hide his embarrassment. He never liked being the center of attention.

The front door burst open to reveal Taehyung, clad in a full face of clown makeup, green hair, and a purple and yellow suit. “WHAT’S POPPIN’ ASS WIPES!!!” He marched inside and made a beeline to the three with Jiwoo in tow. Her skunk stripes were in pink and blue pigtails and her black and red corset top and tights hugged her slim figure. “GUESS WHO HAS A FUCKING GIRLFRIEND!” He laced his fingers with hers and lifted her arm triumphantly in the air. She hid her face bashfully with her free hand. Jimin gasped.

“Shut. Up. You're joking!” Tae flashed a boxy grin.

“No, I’m Joker.” Jiwoo slapped him in the arm.

“Yes, he’s for real.” She answered on his behalf. Jimin and Jin exchanged dramatic, wide-eyed looks and threw their arms around the new couple.

“We did it! He’s off the streets!”

“He’s off the streets!”

“I’m off the streets!”

Jiwoo watched the three jump in circles with their arms linked like a bunch of kids who were told they’re going to McDonald’s. Yeah, she made the right choice.

The front door opened again, not flying off the hinges this time, and Y/N stepped in with Yoongi flush against her back. She spotted the group in the kitchen and threw her arms up. “Heyyyyy!!!!” Taehyung turned with an ecstatic smile and bounded over, pulling her off the ground in a big bear hug.

“Y/N GUESS WHAT! GUESS WHAT! GUESS WHAT!”

“What?” she gasped under his grip. He dropped her and gripped her shoulders.

“I HAVE A GIRLFRIEND!” Both Yoongi and Y/N’s faces lit up.

“WHAT?! TAE, OH MY GOD YOU'RE OFF THE STREETS!” She clapped her hands together giddily and threw her arms back around his neck.

“I KNOW! THAT’S WHAT EVERYONE ELSE SAID!”

“Okay, okay, break it up.” Yoongi pried the two children apart and steered them to the kitchen. On the way, he leaned into Tae’s ear and whispered, “I trust you, but I’ll say this anyway. You hurt her, I hurt you.” He snapped out of his scary tone when Jimin came and pulled Y/N into a hug and kissed both her cheeks.

“Ahh! You two look so hot together! Best couple costume ever!” Yoongi never minded how close they were. He knew about their brief fling before he came along, but he trusted her when she said it was all in the past.

Y/N’s excited squeal broke through his thoughts. She booked it for Jungkook to gush over his costume. “Kookie! You look so friggin’ cute!!” She played with the piece of hair hanging on his forehead and fixed a few loose strands. He smiled at his feet and fiddled with his jacket zipper. “Come on, gimme a spin!” He sheepishly did a 360 to give her a full look at his outfit.

“I’ll be damned,” Yoongi added, “you almost look better in that jacket than I do.” Jungkook hid his face behind his hands. He couldn’t control the big ass grin plastered on his face.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell him all night!” Jimin cut in, fists on his hips. She squeezed past him and Jungkook to say hi to Jiwoo and Jin.

The eldest boy pulled her into a sweet hug, his coat draping partially over her back. He leaned back to catch her eye. “How are you? You doing okay?” Jin, ever the mom.

The truth was, she wasn’t. Her situation with the pills was getting out of hand. What started out as a party topper, became a full blown addiction. She hated the person she had become. If she didn’t get her fix, she’d turn into a monster, snapping at anyone and everyone if they rubbed her the wrong way.

The moment she realized she had a problem was when Jungkook tried to approach her at school on one of her bad days. She ended up punching her locker with enough force to turn heads. The cold, unsympathetic eyes of the complete stranger that took her place bore into him before storming off. Tears welled in his eyes and he was frozen in place. All he asked was if he could help.

She scared him, and she'd never forgive herself for it. Even after he did.

She put on her best convincing smile and patted Jin’s chest. “I’m fine, you shouldn’t be worrying about me.” He searched her eyes for a crack in the facade, but he saw none. A warm smile played on his lips and he gave her a kiss on the head before turning her loose. She immediately pivoted to Jiwoo, trying to change the subject.

“Now I’m no DC expert, but I’m pretty sure you two are from different movies.” She gestured to the couple. “Tae, I know you’re from the Dark Knight, but I've never seen Harley in this hot ass outfit before.” Jiwoo chuckled and shuffled in her knee length boots.

“I’m actually Harley from Arkham Knight, a video game. It’s my favorite look of hers.” Y/N gave her another up and down, nodding her head.

“It’s great ‘cus Harley wasn’t in The Dark Knight, so she could be any version she wanted.” Tae commented.

“Except Suicide Squad.” Jiwoo added.

“Except Suicide Squad.” He echoed. “That movie was a disgrace.”

“Hey,” Y/N slapped Jimin on the arm, “Is Hobi here yet? I need a little...” She tapped the side of her nose. He giggled and pointed to the loft on the second floor.

“He was up there last I saw him. Have at it.” She made her way back to Yoongi and went on her tiptoes to give him a quick peck.

“Go ahead and make yourself a drink. I’ll be back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.” She said seductively in her best Mia Wallace voice. Her index and middle fingers walked up his chest and dragged across his shoulder as she walked past him.

The loft was surprisingly hard to get to being that it was clogged with partygoers. She finally managed to squeeze through and fall to the floor, her face inches from a pair of sharp-toed dress shoes. She followed the white suit up to the face peering down at her. “The floor is no place for you, Mrs. Wallace.” A hand gripped her forearm and hoisted her to her feet with ease. At the other end of the arm holding her, was Hoseok’s beaming smile. The pointed collar of his black dress shirt was folded over the lapel of his suit.

“Saturday Night Fever?” He nodded. “Yay, now I have two John Travolta’s.” She took her arm from his hold and fixed her bangs.

“I think I might know why you’re here.” He inquired

“You would be correct, sir.” He chuckled.

“Follow me.”

He led her to a couch at the edge of the loft that overlooked the sea of costumes below. There was so much smoke in the air it was impossible to tell if it came from the fog machines or someone’s lungs. They plopped onto the cushions and he went to work cutting lines on a mirror laid on the coffee table. “So how’s life?”

“Eh, I've been better.” She let herself slip a little. Talking to Hoseok was easy. She liked being able to tell him some heavier things because he never pressed for more information. He accepted what he was given and took it in stride. She leaned forward and grabbed an almost empty bottle of cherry vodka and finished it off.

“I feel ‘ya. Soccer practice is really starting to get to me. Just gotta take it day by day, my friend.” He slid the mirror to her side and handed her a rolled up bill. “Here.”

“Thank you, good sir.” She plucked the makeshift tube from his fingers and dipped her head to sniff up the pristine white line. The feeling hit her instantly. A huge smile spread across her face and her whole body felt like it was floating among the smoke clouds.

“Good?” She couldn’t find the words, so she gave him a simple thumbs up. Their moment was cut short when Taehyung’s booming voice cut through the music and conversation.

“EVERYONE! OUR BELOVED QUARTERBACK, NAMJOON KIM, IS OFFICIALLY OFF THE MARKET!”

“WHAT?!” They shouted in unison. With a quick shared look, they scrambled down the stairs and through the cheering crowd. Taehyung was standing, red cup in hand, on the thick mantle of the fireplace at the head of the room. “Jesus fucking Christ.” She mumbled as they watched Jiwoo weave through the mob to pull him down.

“There he is!” Hoseok pointed to the head of brown hair that poked above everyone else. He pulled her along behind him, using his strength to cut through the congestion. When they broke through the wall of bodies, the entire friend group was gathered on the massive sectional couch at the center of the room. She picked the couple from the cluster and her jaw dropped.

“No fucking way. Cheyenne?!”

“Yes way.” Jimin chimed. The girl in question was perched on the arm of the couch next to Namjoon. Her amber eyes lit up when she recognized Y/N standing there.

“Y/N?!” She jumped up and crashed her body into hers with a crushing embrace. “Oh my God you grew up so much!! You’re not a little shrimp anymore!”

“I haven’t seen you since what? Fifth grade?” Cheyenne’s smile flashed white against her sepia skin. They were rather close in elementary until she moved away before middle school. She was the extrovert that found her and acted almost like a mother to her. Cheyenne was the one that cracked Y/N’s shell.

“I know, girl! We moved back and I’m going to Westview!”

“Westview?! I go to Westview!” Her eyes widened.

“What?! How come I haven’t seen you at school?” Y/N chuckled.

“I make myself very hard to spot.”

“She’s right,” Yoongi added, coming to stand beside her, “took me forever to track her down to talk to her for the first time.” He handed her a solo cup of vodka cranberry and she gave his hand an affectionate squeeze. Cheyenne’s hand flew to her chest.

“I’m gonna cry. My baby’s all glown up and she got herself a man!” She dramatically fanned her eyes. Her long false lashes almost reached her brows when she looked to the ceiling. Her box braids were twisted into space buns on either side of her head and her long, flowing white dress cinched at the waist and had a slit running up to reveal her muscular leg.

Y/N peaked over her shoulder at Namjoon. His long sleeved, tan v-neck and black vest made everything click. “Oh my god! Han Solo and Leia! That’s so fucking cute!”

“Can you guess whose idea it was?” Cheyenne cocked an eyebrow and looked over her shoulder at him, who blushed and gave a little finger wave. What a man baby. She took her seat back by him and Y/N and Yoongi sat on the couch across from them.

“So how did you guys meet?” The couple shared a humored look.

“Remember that bloody nose I said I got in P.E. a couple weeks ago?” Namjoon asked.

“Yeah?” Cheyenne proudly raised her hand.

“That was me. It was girls vs boys in dodgeball and I nailed him in the face.” Y/N would expect nothing less from her. Even in elementary, Cheyenne was the best softball player she’d ever seen. That girl had an arm like a cannon.

“She walked with me to get ice and we kinda just got to know each other along the way.”

“Awwww~” Jimin and Taehyung swooned.

“As much as I hate to break up the moment, I'm trying to get fucked up tonight.” Y/N finally said once the conversation died down. “Chey, do you,” She put her thumb and index finger to her lips and puffed on an imaginary joint, “partake?”

Cheyenne raised an eyebrow at her. She wasn’t surprised Y/N had turned to drugs. That girl had issues from the very start. “Of course I do, who the fuck do you think I am?” Smirks cracked the pair’s lips and they shared a mischievous look for the first time in a long time.

~~~

Y/N, Yoongi, Cheyenne, Namjoon and Jimin gathered on the sofa by the swimming pool filled with splashing guys and girls stripped down to their underwear. Which was insane given that it was basically November and the water was 70 degrees at most. Yoongi placed a thick blunt between his lips and flicked his Zippo lighter, casting a brief warm glow on his face. He expertly cupped his hand against the flame and got a good burn going, then snapped the lighter closed against his thigh. The blunt cherried bright orange when he took a colossal hit, letting the smoke roll out of his nose in plumes before passing it to Y/N. She gathered a thick cloud in her mouth and let it float out to inhale through her nose. The milky reverse waterfall flowed into her nostrils like a yellow tinted nebula. The THC hit her already intoxicated brain, sending her further into the couch.

Jimin took his two puffs quickly and passed it on. On her turn, Cheyenne blew a single smoke ring and ran her finger down the middle to make it a heart, sending it floating into Namjoon’s face.

“Cute.” He said sarcastically as he took the blunt from her manicured nails and drew a long hit. “I don’t know any tricks so you’re just gonna have to deal with my boring ass.”

“We’ve been dealing with your boring ass for years.” Y/N deadpanned, earning a series of laughs from the group.

The blunt made its way around the circle back to Yoongi for the third time, and it was starting to reach its end. “Have you two smoked together before?” He questioned the new couple. They looked at each other and shook their heads. “Well then,” he clapped his hands together and plucked the blunt from his lip, “it’s customary that new couples christen the relationship by shotgunning.”

“What?” Namjoon’s brows knit together in confusion.

“Come on Joon, you’ve hung around us this long and you still don’t know what shotgunning is?” Y/N spoke up. He threw his hands up in defense.

“Hey! I’ve only ever heard it mentioned. No one ever told me what it actually was!” Yoongi huffed a chuckle.

“Watch and learn.” He puffed on the blunt and trapped the smoke in his mouth. His hand went to the back of Y/N’s neck and pulled her into a kiss, slowly delivering the cloud to her lungs. They parted, and white fog poured from her lips. “Now you try.” He handed him the blunt. Namjoon pocketed a good bit in his cheeks and cupped Cheyenne’s jaw. He pressed a light kiss on her full lips, transferring the smoke to her.

“Like that?” Yoongi and Y/N gave him an approving nod with a shared smirk.

“Consider us properly christened.” Cheyenne quipped. Before anything else could be said, a guy popped out from the sliding doors leading inside.

“AYE! WE GOT JELLO SHOTS IN HERE!”

“Oh fuck yes!” Y/N lept up, not giving herself time to ride out the head-rush that blacked out her senses and made a beeline inside. Yoongi watched her stumble through the glass doors and disappear in the crowd with visible torment.

“You good?” Cheyenne’s robust voice broke through his inner turmoil.

“Yeah.” He kept his gaze on the spot he lost sight of her in, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

~~~

Six Jello shots, two shotgunned beers with Taehyung, another rip from Hoseok, and a bonus sniff of crushed oxy in the bathroom later, Y/N was completely, totally, and utterly wrecked. She had to hold onto the walls and furniture for dear life to make her way outside. It had been almost an hour since she left Yoongi, so it was about time she found him.

The pool was a little less crowded and she could see her reflection on the surface. It’s hair was wild, clothes wrinkled, lipstick faded. Stars twinkled across the ripples, drawing her gaze up to the sky. She walked along the edge of the pool as she admired the lights that dotted the heavens. Her feet stopped their ambling to match the two sets of pictures in her vision back in place. The luring abyss of the sky gave a sharp contrast to the glimmering lights. Everything in her peripheral melted into the darkness that blanketed her view, and the frigid water rushed up to meet her.

It sounded like any other splash. Yoongi didn’t think anything of it. People had been jumping in and out of the pool all night.

“Hey, wasn’t that your girlfriend?” He turned to see a random girl standing behind his seat. His brows furrowed.

“What?” She pointed behind her to the steady bubbles that rose to the surface of the water.

“She was walking on the edge and just keeled-” He rocketed out of his chair and shoved her out of the way. He stripped off his coat mid sprint and dove head first into the jarring water without a second thought.

The water blurred his vision, but he could make out Y/N’s body steadily sinking to the bottom of the pool. He kicked as hard as he could and propelled himself deeper and deeper until he could reach her. His hand gripped her fuzzy wrist and pulled her up to him. Arm around her waist, he swam towards the light with powerful strokes from his three free limbs.

They broke the surface and he swung his head side to side to rid the hair from his eyes. He hooked an elbow over the edge for support while he lugged her unconscious figure out of the water.

“What the fuck?” Taehyung stood dumbly at the sliding door looking out, joint hanging between his lips.

“Get her, get her!” Yoongi grunted. Taehyung rushed over and hooked his hands under her shoulders. With one big tug, he dragged her onto the cement. Her upper body rested in his lap while Yoongi hauled himself out of the pool and scrambled to her side. He pressed his ear to her chest, listening for a pulse in agonizing suspense. The breath he was holding exploded out of his chest when he heard the familiar beats. Taehyung held his finger under her nose.

“She’s breathing.” The adrenaline left Yoongi’s system, taking every ounce of his energy along with it. He collapsed onto his back next to her, gasping for air. The sliding door opened and closed.

“Tae? Why’d you- holy fuck!” Jiwoo came rushing to his side and looked over Y/N’s soaked frame. The black wig was long gone, leaving her h/c mane splayed on the wet cement. The water turned them into a dark mass of limp waves, dulling their natural brilliance. “What happened?!”

“Fell…” Yoongi huffed, “…didn't hear...splash.” His heaving breaths spaced out his words into incoherent fragments. By now, a few heads turned to watch the scene, but most everyone else was too drunk to notice there was even a problem. Jiwoo jumped up.

“I'll go find some towels.” She disappeared back inside and came out not long after with Jin and Jimin carrying thick, blue towels in their arms. Jin immediately dropped to his knees, wrapping it around her soaked body and hugged her to his chest like an infant.

“Is she okay?” He asked apprehensively.

“Yeah. I think so.” Taehyung answered for Yoongi, who was tweaking and on the verge of an anxiety attack. The first one in nearly two years. His heart clamped in his chest and despite the biting cold, his trembling body was drenched in sweat.

Switching to mom mode, Jin snapped his fingers at Jimin, who was staring at the scene before his wasted eyes. “Jimin, wrap Yoongi up and try to calm him down. You,” he pointed to Taehyung, “go find Jungkook. He’s the only one who’ll know if she’s actually okay.” The three, Jiwoo following Taehyung, jumped to work on their tasks.

Jimin draped the towel over his figure as best he could given he was laying flat on his back and there was no getting him to sit up. Yoongi’s eyes darted back and forth, pinballing against his peripheral in all different directions. “Yoongi? Yoongi, I need you to look at me okay?” He sandwiched his face between his hands and tried to catch his eyes. Yoongi shook his head rapidly, eyes still all over the place. “I need you to listen to me. If you can’t look at me then close your eyes.” He squeezed them shut in hopes the roaring panic in his system wouldn’t be able to find him. “I’m gonna press on your chest, and I need you to push back, okay?” He didn't show any kind of response, so Jimin went ahead. He placed both palms against his hyperventilating chest and applied a gentle pressure that compelled him to take longer breaths. “You can breathe, it's okay. Feel that pressure? That’s air filling up your chest. You’re not suffocating, you have plenty of air. You’re okay.” He repeated the affirmations like a mantra. “Deep breaths. Push against my hands for as long as you can.” His chest pressed against his hands again and again, each breath growing deeper and longer. “There you go.”

The sliding door ripped open and Taehyung had Jungkook by the elbow, all but dragging him across the ground. Jungkook yanked his arm free. “What the hell is happening?!”

“You didn’t tell him?!” Jin shouted. Jungkook’s frustration disintegrated when his eyes landed on Y/N wrapped in Jin’s arms and Jimin bent over Yoongi splayed out on the ground.

“I was in a hurry, okay?! I couldn’t think of the words!” Taehyung retorted. Jungkook pointed a shaky finger at her, flashes of a life without her sent his anxiety through the roof.

“Is...is she?”

“No, she’s not dead.” Jin answered his unasked question. “We need you to check her and see if anything’s wrong that we didn’t catch.” Thank God. He could live again.

“Why me?” A stupid question, honestly.

“Because you’re the closest thing we have to a doctor, now get your ass down there and do your thing!” Taehyung gave him an urgent nudge. Jungkook hesitantly knelt by Jin’s side. It almost felt wrong seeing her in such a vulnerable state.

“U-uh...okay. You found a good pulse, right?”

“Yeah, but you need to be the judge of that.” He swallowed hard and pressed two fingers to her neck. “Well?”

“Her pulse is fine, and from the looks of it, her brain is getting enough oxygen.” He pointed at her lips, which were coming back to a healthy peach. “If she wasn’t, her lips and fingernails would be blue.”

“Is she okay?” Yoongi’s raspy voice was barely audible over the din of the party. Jimin managed to wrap the towel around him and his breath was nearing back to normal. The occasional twitch jolted his muscles from the lingering bad high.

“Yeah, just keep her warm and she’ll be fine.” Yoongi’s head fell back against the ground in relief. “Just make sure she stays on her side all night so she doesn’t aspirate.”

“Aspirate?” Jimin inquired.

“Suffocate on her own vomit.”

“Christ. That doesn’t happen a lot does it?” Taehyung asked.

“Enough to have a word for it.”

The door slid open yet again and out came Namjoon, Cheyenne, and Hoseok. “Jiwoo told us what happened. Are you sure she’s okay?” Hoseok spoke first.

“Jungkook said she should be.” Jin replied. “I’m gonna take her home and watch her for the night. Just in case.”

“That’s probably a good idea.”

Namjoon carried Y/N in his arms to Jin’s car and laid her down in the backseat, taking care that she was propped on her side. Yoongi and Jin came to the car soon after, the latter carrying a hastily packed duffle bag.

“Yoongi, sit with her in the back and keep her from rolling over.” Jin ordered. The younger gladly climbed into the backseat and readjusted her head on his lap. Jin dropped into the driver's seat and hooked an elbow over his rolled down window. “Joon, I trust you can handle things while I’m gone. I might not live here, but it’s still my party so make sure everyone gets the fuck out by 6.” Namjoon gave him two thumbs up and headed inside when Jin started the car.

~~~

Jin slid his copy of Y/N’s house key into the lock, and the deadbolt snapped open. He pushed the door in for Yoongi, who was carrying her up the steps. The clock on the microwave read 3:45. Surprisingly early for leaving a frat party. “I’m gonna change her into some dry clothes.” Yoongi said.

“Okay, make sure you guy’s hair is dry so you don’t catch a cold.” Yoongi rolled his eyes and disappeared into her bedroom. Jin helped himself to the closet of sheets and blankets and grabbed a pillow from the bottom shelf. Once he was happy with the nest he made on the couch, he slipped in the tiny guest bathroom to wash his face, change, and take his meds. High blood pressure. His mom always said it ran in the family.

A few minutes later, he emerged in a pair of Totoro pajama pants and a grey t-shirt. He eyed the kitchen cabinet that was always stocked with ramen. Yoongi’s gonna be starving when he’s done with her. He set out a pot on the stove and grabbed three packages from the cabinet. “Hey Yoongs,” he padded to her doorway, “I’m making ramen do you want beef or-” His voice quieted when he peeked inside and saw them both in bed. He’d changed her into one of his hoodies and tied her hair in a bun. He laid behind her, arms seatbelting her to his torso, fast asleep. Without context, it was a heartwarming scene. Jin's lips formed a small smile and he eased the door shut, careful not to wake him. “Goodnight guys~”

He plopped onto the couch and plugged his phone into the charger that ran across the floor to reach the coffee table. The second his head hit the pillow he felt himself being pulled under by the current of sleep. He wondered to himself, what was going on in Y/N’s head that was so bad she nearly died just to get away from. She’d never lost control like that before. At least not bad enough for Yoongi to have a whole anxiety attack over. Whatever it was, he prayed it was nothing too horrible because he knew no matter how much he’d try to help, there was no getting anything out of her. That scared him. Hell, it terrified him not two hours ago. He pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind for the time being, and let his lids droop until sleep overtook him.

~~~

NOVEMBER 9TH

“Haaaaappy Biiiirthdayyyy tooo youu~! Haaappy Birthdaaayy tooooo youuuuu~! Happy Biiirthday dear Yoongiiiiiiii~!” The birthday boy buried his face in his hands out of sheer embarrassment while the group drunkenly sang around the cake in front of him. “Happy Birthdayyy toooooo yooouuuuuuuuuu~!” A birthday party, his worst nightmare. He was never one for birthdays, his family didn’t have the money for that kind of luxury. Every year, his dad would just gift him a pack of cigarettes, grab him by the collar, and give the same drunken speech about how he needs to toughen up if he’s gonna survive in the real world. Y/N carded her fingers through his hair to get it out of his face.

“Make a wish, Yoongi.” Her gentle touch was enough to coax him back to reality. He lifted his face from his hands and studied the three joints stuck into the frosting as candles. He thought for a minute then leaned in and blew the tiny flames out in one breath. Their cheers bounced off the old, bare walls of the abandoned house. Everyone was there, even Cheyenne.

“Finally!” Taehyung and Hoseok pounced on the cake and plucked off the “candles” before ash fell on the frosting. The cake was white with colorful piping on the edges and pink flowers dotting the sides. It was obviously for a kid, which was most likely the reason Y/N and Jiwoo chose it. The room quickly filled with wispy clouds of smoke courtesy of Tae, Hobi, Jimin, and Cheyenne.

“Holy shit!” Cheyenne’s hand flew to her mouth to cover her grin and pointed at Yoongi and Y/N.

“What?” She asked.

“Yoongi’s 18 now! You guys can’t fuck!” Y/N turned bright red and hid her face behind her hands.

“2 months, 17 days and...” Yoongi checked the time on his phone, “10 hours.” He sighed. The time until her 18th birthday. She got held back a year in kindergarten after a nasty case of pneumonia. So, technically, she should’ve been a senior by now. But then she never would’ve met Jimin. Or Cheyenne for that matter.

Y/N leaned her cheek on her fist and observed the spectacle. Her natural smile slowly faded, and corners of her lips grew heavier and heavier. She could feel the curtain of despair lowering over her, suffocating the enjoyment out of the otherwise jubilant moment. The all too familiar mentality settled in her mind that she’d never be happy again, or see life as anything more than some sick joke. Not now. Not now, not now please… She tried to keep it together for everyone’s sake, but the tears were coming any second now.

Under the cover of the noise, she slipped away and into the bathroom on the other side of the house. She eased the door shut with a tiny click. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. The harder she pressed her lips together, the wetter her eyes became. She leaned against the sink, staring into the abyss of the rusty drain. Five hours. Five hours of sobriety and she was already a sobbing mess. She tried. She really did. She wanted to be sober for Yoongi’s birthday so she’d have the memories and not need to rely on pictures and stories the next day. Her and what little self preservation she had left were fighting a war against her demons. And she was losing. Five hours would soon turn to four, then three, then... She stopped from scaring herself any further.

She hurriedly fished out two Zoloft tablets from her black skinny jeans pocket. The bulge of the baggie was covered by her oversized, snow white sweater. Using her phone case to crush them and credit card to scrape the dust into a neat line, she bent down and snorted the powder in one quick sniff. Her head jerked up and she stared at the person in the mirror. Slowly but surely, her face relaxed, her smile returned, and everything felt okay again. She wiped the runny mascara from under her eyes and stepped out to return to the joyful madness.

~~~

DECEMBER

The heated architect’s office provided a welcome contrast to the biting cold outside. Y/N sat behind the receptionist desk, filing the last of a client’s paperwork so she could finally leave. Everyone else had left for the day, leaving her the task of locking everything up. After her emancipation, Jimin’s mom couldn’t have offered her a job at her office fast enough. Hell, she even offered for her to live with them permanently. The work was boring, but it paid better than any other part-time job ever would.

“Y/N!” Jimin quacked from the employee lounge down the hall. He’d tagged along after school to study for midterms with her in the downtime.

“WHAT!”

“ARE YOU DONE YET?!”

“ALMOST!” Were they yelling louder than necessary? Probably, their dynamic accepted nothing less. He popped his head around the corner, his body following suit. There wasn’t anything good to raid from the fridge, so he had nothing else to do but watch her lock up.

The phone on her desk rang, breaking the silence. “Fuck a duck! Do people not pay attention to business hours?!” She huffed aggressively and ripped the receiver off the hook. “Mijeong Park’s office, this is Y/N, how can I help you?” Her voice took a hard right to a bright, singsongy tone, and he had to bite his lip to not laugh. Hearing her speak in such a way he knew she hated brought him pure joy. On busy days it was like watching two personalities fight over their host. “Oh, I’m sorry she just left. Would you like to leave a message?” She grabbed a pen and jotted something down on a sticky note. “Uh-huh. Mhm...Alright, thank you!” She hung up and her face immediately fell back to its usual resting bitch face. She slipped on her coat and threw her messenger bag on her shoulder. “Okay, let’s go.”

~~~

The euphoric ring of the bell signaling that school was over washed over Y/N’s senses. She did it. Midterms were over. Granted, she didn’t study that hard, so she wasn’t expecting the best results. Oh well. C’est la vie. Now all she had was another week before winter break and she was home free.

Yoongi had work, Jimin had dance, Namjoon had football, Jungkook was with his family, and pretty much everyone else seemed to be busy when she texted each one to hang out. Whatever. She’d treat herself to something special.

The clock on her nightstand read 8:50 by the time Y/N stepped out of the steamy bathroom. She did everything; shave, exfoliate, lotion, face mask, hair mask. She scrunched her hair with a t-shirt until the curls were almost dry, leaving the rest of the water to soak into her roots. Yoongi’s Kendrick Lamar hoodie with the word “DAMN.” across the chest in big red letters kept her warm in the chilly apartment. She never used the heat system. It was cheaper and more comfortable to just bundle up. Her black sweatpants had the RIPNDIP cat giving the one finger salute on the side of one of the legs. There was no contest. They were her favorite pair.

The only light that filled her room was from the moon that poured through her open blinds. Long black shadows were projected over the space, giving it a strange yet aesthetically pleasing contrast. She shimmied under her bed to grab the shoe box shoved to the very back against the wall and tossed it on the bed. She climbed onto the mattress and sat legs crossed. The box was full of various paraphernalia she’d collected over the years. Digging to the very bottom, she pulled out a tiny baggie with two white tablets. They were bought a few weeks ago, but had been saved for a special occasion such as this.

She’d always been interested in trying Fentanyl. Just once. To satiate her curiosity. The pills crushed into power nicely. She cut and scraped a small line -- much smaller than the usual line of coke -- on her makeup mirror. This stuff was fifty times stronger than heroin. She wasn’t a complete idiot. Come on.

The line stared back up at her with a silent urgency. Now or never. She put the straw to her nose and snorted up the dust.

She waited.

Nothing.

She waited some more.

Still nothing.

A frustrated huff left her and she reached for her phone to cuss out the plug who had the audacity to sell her fake shit.

She reached for the phone.

The phone.

Get the phone.

Get the fucking phone.

Her mind completed the action time and time again but her body moved at a snail's pace. The last of her strength gave out and she collapsed onto the bed, only to realize, she’d been laying down the whole time. Woah.

A sedated smile spread ear to ear and a string of lazy, incoherent giggles made her diaphragm flutter. At that moment, the entire world shut the fuck up, and she was alone. Truly alone. It was just her inside her head. No depression, no anxiety, no trauma, no mommy issues. Nothing. Just her. It was like walking around in an empty mall. She had the entire world to herself. You know what would be great right now? Music.

She inched for her headphones.

Didn’t move.

She tried to focus on that singular action as hard as she could.

Didn’t move.

Okay...this isn’t really funny anymore.

She tried again.

Her muscles didn’t even flinch.

Tears pricked her eyes and her back broke into a cold sweat. Panic began to make its entrance as her eyes darted around the room for something, anything, that could help her. Her lungs struggled to replenish her oxygen leaving her chest in agony. She regressed back to the terrified, helpless little girl that she ran so far to lose.

She almost didn’t hear the knock at her door over the internal cacophony. She tried to listen for it to happen again. Maybe she was just hearing things. Sure enough, another knock split through the roaring static in her ears. Help! Please Dear God! I'm here! I’M IN HERE!

“Y/N?”

Jungkook.

Oh shit. No. No, no, no, no! Anyone but him!

“Y/N?” Every emotion that she’d freed herself from was dumped over her head like a bucket of ice water when, out of the corner of her eye, the door eased open. Jungkook’s silky head of black hair reflected the moonlight streaming through her window. He almost didn’t spot her from the glare. “Y/N? Are you okay? I felt bad that you were alone today, so I thought I’d stop by and check on you...” She made a barely audible, unintelligible sound. Attempting to raise her voice above a teensy whisper was an exercise in futility. His heart sank at her response. “Oh, you’re in the middle of something. I-I’ll just come back tomorrow.” He turned back around. Wait! No! Please don’t go! Forget what I said earlier! Help me please!

“..d-n’t g-o…” She scraped all the energy left in her body — from the top of her head to the tips of her toes — to say those two words.

Jungkook turned and stared at her stagnant figure. Wow. She must be really high. “Alright, come here.” He sat on the bed next to her and helped her sit up. Her head rested on his shoulder. His arm was the sole thing keeping her upright. He took a deep breath and thought about what he planned on telling her when he got there. He might as well practice now since she wouldn’t remember anyway.

“So uh...about me being with my family… That was a lie.”

“Mmm..?”

“I went on a date. Well, not really, but I really like her and I think she might like me too..” His cheeks blushed a little at the thought. “She’s a great friend, so if it doesn’t work out I hope we still have that.” He grew more confident with his words the more he talked about her. “I think you’d like her. She smokes weed and stuff for pain, but she does it recreationally too.” Her silence finally caught his attention after the mention of weed. He giggled a little. “Did you fall asleep?” When he turned to look down at her, she slipped past his shoulder and slumped onto the bed. The impact of the mattress didn’t stir her in the slightest. “Y/N?”

He shook her shoulder.

Nothing.

He shook harder, the familiar fear germinating in the pit of his stomach.

“Y/N?”

Nothing.

Fear festered into horror as each attempt failed. Tears blinded him while he turned her on her back and roughly patted her cheeks. “Y/N?! Y/N, wake up!” His heart dropped past his stomach and onto the floor. Her lips and fingernails had turned an unhealthy shade of indigo and her breathing was dangerously shallow. No. This wasn’t real. It had to be a nightmare. It had to be. “Please wake up!!” He couldn’t stop saying her name in hopes that it would somehow magically awaken her. Her declining state said otherwise.

“Don’t leave me!” He pulled her onto the floor and straddled her hips, pulling his phone out to dial 911 in the process. His hands lined up with one another over her heart and jumped into action pumping her heart for her.

“Just stay with me! Please!”

“Blood oxygen at 60%!”

Jungkook had to be ripped from Y/N’s body as the team of EMTs swarmed around her. One of them lifted her lid with a gloved finger and flashed a penlight in her eye.

“Pupils are constricted! I need 2mg of Narcan!”

He was shoved out of her room and forced to watch from the doorway while the first responders stuck her with needle after needle. They slipped an oxygen mask over her lifeless face. The world seemed to slow with every jagged breath he took. His eyes unfocused and his hearing grew fuzzy except for the faint sound of his hammering heart. All was quiet in the eye of the storm. Then, the air left. Every atom of oxygen was sucked from the world with no regard for his existence. He fell to his knees gripping his throat and chest, his lungs screaming for air.

“..........d!……..id!……..Hey, kid!” He was snapped back to reality when large hands pressed into his shoulders. He darted his red, watery eyes to the paramedic restraining him to the floor. “You need to calm down!” His kicking, screaming and crying had been silenced by the ringing in his ears. A sharp pinch pricked his side and before long, he stilled as a wave of serenity washed over him. It was like someone flipped his off switch.

“What… what did you give me..?”

“Just some Valium to help you relax.” He felt his body sink into the floor, being pulled further into the abyss of slumber. He fought his lids open despite their growing weight, but it was no use. They drooped closed and all the chaos and fear gave way to darkness.

The harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital pierced Jungkook’s lids pulling him back into consciousness. He was stretched out on a firm sofa with a simple heart monitor clipped to his fingertip in what looked like an ICU room. The soft beeping of an EKG drew his attention to the bed next to him. He got to his feet as fast as he could with the Valium still lingering in his system and raced to Y/N’s bedside. The bittersweet excitement of getting to see her went completely sour when he took in her state. She’d never looked so frail and delicate before. Dark circles sunk in her eyes with rings of yellow on their border giving the illusion of two black eyes. Her lips were chapped and bleeding. Countless tubes and IVs protruded from her body which only stressed the severity of her condition further. Yet, despite her broken appearance, she never looked so peaceful.

“Good. You’re up.” He spun around. The voice came from a doctor standing in the doorway clipboard in hand. “I’m Dr. Lobrano, I’m the one in charge of your friend’s case.”

“Is she okay?”

“She’s stable, but the stress overload caused her to slip into a coma so her body can heal itself to its full extent.” Jungkook’s face paled. “Now, I’m not saying it’s 100%, but most opioid coma patients wake up and make a full recovery. Physically, that is.” “How long will that take?” He took in a calculating breath.

“It’s hard to say. It could take three days or three weeks. Every case is different” His heart sank for the nth time that night. He looked over his shoulder at her motionless figure under the sheets. The only thing that told she was even alive was the soft, steady beep of the EKG. He could hardly bear to look at her. It was like seeing Superman fall from the sky. She was his Superman. Whether she believed it or not didn’t matter because it was true. “I hate to bother you during such a stressful time,” he pulled a pen out of his pocket protector, “but I need you to answer a few questions about our friend over there.” He pointed the end of the pen at her.

“U-um, okay.” Dr. Lobrano took a seat in the chair facing the sofa which Jungkook had retaken his seat on. He clicked the pen against his knee and held it at the ready.

“Next of kin?”

“Her parents, but she’s emancipated.” He nodded and silently jotted something on his clipboard.

“Siblings?”

“No.” He looked up.

“Extended family?” Jungkook opened mouth to answer when he realized -- she didn’t. She had no one. From what he’d caught over the years he knew her mom was an only child and her dad’s only brother died when he was in college. No aunts, no uncles, no cousins. No one.

“Not that I can think of. No.”

“Okay...any other significant relationships? We need someone to sign off on her paperwork and consent forms in case anything happens.”

“But it won’t, right?” He clicked his pen.

“As a medical professional, I’m legally obligated to tell my patients and their loved ones the truth. And the truth is, your friend over there took an almost lethal dose of Fentanyl. And with her age and weight? I consider myself a man of science, but that’s a miracle if I ever saw one. However, just because she made it past those first critical hours doesn’t mean there’s zero risk of other complications that may arise later on.” Jungkook nodded, trying to take in the information as stoically as possible. He didn’t want the doctor to see how he really felt on the inside.

“How old are you?”

“I’m sixteen, sir.”

“Do you have anyone you can call who’s at least eighteen that can sign for her?”

“Yeah, her…boyfriend” The weight of his circumstances hit him like a bus. The thought of anyone else hadn’t even crossed his mind until now. How the hell was he supposed to tell Yoongi that the only person keeping his life together was in a coma from almost killing herself?

“Then I suggest you give him a call as soon as possible, and if you don’t have any other questions I should finish making my rounds.” He gave a distant nod and was left alone with Y/N once again. His eyes were drawn back to the subtle rise and fall of her chest. A long sigh of anguish left his lips and he buried his face in his hands.

“What am I gonna do?”

~~~

Jungkook stared at Yoongi’s contact in his phone. His thumb hovered over the call button. He knew he was about to hurt him worse than anyone ever has in his life. It was going to kill him. He forced his thumb down on the screen. The dial tone counted down the seconds before the heartbreak. It stopped after three rings.

“Hello?”

“....”

“Kook?”

“Yoongi…” His voice began to quiver, “Yoongi, something bad happened.”

~~~

Jiwoo laid in bed on her stomach with her feet swishing in the air. She held her phone to her ear with her shoulder while she painted her nails their usual black chrome. “You should listen to Never Know by Bad Omens. I bet you’d like it.”

“You think?” Taehyung’s voice came from the other end. Before she could answer, she heard Yoongi in the living room on the phone.

“Woah, woah, calm down. What happened?” Silence.

“Jiwo-?”

“Sh!” The silence stretched for a good four seconds. She jumped when Yoongi came barreling down the hall to his room like a bat out of Hell and came back out with his jacket slung over his arm. The front door opened and slammed shut. Within seconds, his car peeled out of the driveway. The roar of his engine quickly dissipated in the distance.

~~~

Jungkook bounced his knee in anticipation. It had been almost ten minutes since he called Yoongi and there was still no sign of him. He was beginning to worry something might’ve happened to him on the way when the door swung open sending the doorknob colliding into the wall. Jungkook shot up and immediately broke down in tears when he laid eyes on Yoongi’s familiar face. Yoongi rushed to catch his crumpling body and hugged his head to his chest. Jungkook sobbed like he never sobbed before. Every emotion he’d kept bottled up since the moment he found her in her room spilled out onto Yoongi’s grey hoodie.

His heart — along with every other function in his body — stopped when he saw Y/N. She’d never looked so broken and it tore at his insides to even look at her. It didn’t feel natural. It didn’t feel real. There was no way this was the girl he loved.

When Jungkook’s cries diminished to a sniffle, Yoongi gingerly took him off his chest and approached her bedside. He tentatively placed his hand over her cold one. IV needles were sunken into each of her wrists and one on the back of her hand. He drew a shuddery breath. “What-....what did she take?”

“Fentanyl.” Yoongi squeezed his eyes shut trying not to dwell on it.

“Is she gonna be okay?” He knew it was a stupid question. Of course Jungkook couldn’t answer that.

“I don’t know.” Jungkook muttered.

“Did they say when she’d wake up?” Jungkook winced at his question. He must’ve been in shock to assume she even would.

“Yoongi,” the older turned to face him, “Y/N’s in a coma.”

~~~

Yoongi and Jungkook stayed the night in the spacious ICU room with Jungkook passed out on his little couch and Yoongi pulled up a chair next to Y/N’s bedside. He stayed awake all night watching her. It wasn’t that he thought something would happen if he fell asleep, he just couldn’t bring himself to leave her. Even if he may have still physically been there.

Breaking the news to everyone the next day was hard. Hearing their reactions over the phone was harder. ICU patients were only allowed to have three visitors per day —excluding Yoongi—so he was forced to decide who would get to see her first. He decided to just go by age.

Jimin and Taehyung arrived within five minutes of getting the call. Yoongi was waiting outside her room when the two came flying down the hall. They skidded to a stop and Yoongi had to hold them back with his palms against their chests. “Hold on, hold on. You can’t see her just yet.”

“Fucking why not?!” Taehyung shouted.

“Yeah, what the hell?” Jimin added.

“The doctor said that it helps to talk to coma patients, so we’re taking turns visiting her alone. Jungkook’s in there right now.”

~~~

Jungkook sat in Yoongi’s chair beside the hospital bed. His fists balled against his knees trying to think of something to say.

“Y/N…..I’m…. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I took your pills. I’m sorry I lied to you. I’m sorry I watched this happen and didn’t get you help.” Tears pooled in his eyes. “I’m so sorry...You're my hero Y/N….You probably don’t think so, but if I never met you...” He choked, “I don’t-...I don’t think I’d be alive right now.” His lips quivered trying to form the words. He’d never said anything like that out loud before. “You’re the only person who makes me feel like I’m not alone. I’ve never felt more loved and wanted than when I’m with you. You’re the strongest person I know. You always make sure I get all of my work done and eat right even when you can barely take care of yourself. It sounds useless, but it’s those reminders that reassure me that someone actually cares. If you go I-...I don’t know what I’m gonna do. But it’s not gonna be anything good.” He put his head down on her thigh and cried. “I need you, Y/N. I need you so much it hurts.”

~~~

The three in the hall jumped to their feet when the door finally opened, and Jungkook stepped out. His eyes and nose were puffy and red from hours of stop and start tears. Jimin pulled him into a soft hug which he gratefully accepted. “Okay Tae, you’re next.” Yoongi said. Taehyung thought for a second.

“No. Jimin should go. He’s known her longer than I have.” Yoongi looked from Taehyung to Jimin who looked up in surprise.

“That’s fine.” He said. Jimin gave Taehyung a thankful look and entered the room.

He drew a hard breath when he saw her. Her hospital gown washed away the color of her cheeks that once gave her a youthful glow. “Oh, Y/N…” He put his hand to his heart and sat down. “What happened to you?” The dark circles under her eyes popped against the blank canvas of her face. He slipped his hand under hers and rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. “You can’t be doing this to yourself. You scared me. You scared us.”

He spent a long time just looking at her in silence. He couldn’t find a way to put his emotions into words. “God, you’re so gorgeous. Even when you're wearing a paper gown with bags that rival a panda’s.” He reached and twirled a piece of her hair in his fingers — something he did a lot when they relaxed together. Her usual bouncy coils laid in dull, limp waves against her shoulders. “You almost left me. You can’t do that, because you’re stuck with me. And there’s nothing you can do to change that. Wherever you go, I’ll follow, whatever you do, I’ll copy. We’re in this together, so your ass better wake up so we can fuck shit up until we’re old and grey, scaring kids on Halloween together.” He giggled, but it slowly turned to whimpers. He wiped tears from his cheeks with his sleeves. “You’re my best friend, N/N. I don’t know if I can handle it if you go.” He took a sniffly breath. “I love you, Y/N. I’ve always loved you. Even if it was in different ways, but I always have.” He sniffed and his voice cracked under the emotion. “You deserve the world, you deserve someone who loves you the way I know you should be loved. That’s why I was so happy when you met Yoongi, because I knew he was perfect for you. He worships you, Y/N, kisses the ground you walk on. And I can rest easy knowing you’re in the best possible hands. Don’t worry about me though, I’m happy loving you in any way I can.” Tears patted on the bed sheets when he leaned in to give her a lingering kiss on the cheek. “Please come back to us.”

~~~

An hour passed, and Jimin emerged from the room. “Finally! I was starting to regret giving up my turn.” Taehyung stood. Jimin and Jungkook held hands and Yoongi stripped his leather jacket off. The extra layers were starting to get to him. He looked up and saw Taehyung still standing there.

“What are you lookin’ at me for?”

“C-can I go now?” Yoongi chuckled a little.

“Of course you can.”

~~~

It took a while for Taehyung to eventually gravitate to the chair beside her. He mainly stood near the door and stared at her for the first five minutes. Another twenty went by of him just sitting in the chair with his hands clasped between his knees. “Listen uh...I’m not good at this whole sentimental thing, so if it’s true that coma patients remember what they hear, don’t judge. I know I get on your nerves a lot and tease you, but I do it ‘cus that’s just how I show love.” He looked down. “Truth is, you’re like a sister to me, Y/N. I always wanted an older sister to annoy, and when I met you it felt like I’d found my missing piece. Nobody in my life ever stays long, but you’re the one constant that I could hang on to. No matter which girl left me or friends I lost, I knew I could always count on you to be there, ready to go along with whatever I wanted.” He chuckled at the tears brimming in his eyes. “Look at this shit. You got me cryin’.” He roughly wiped his eyes with the collar of his hoodie. “Well, that’s my spiel. Wake up soon. I need somebody to roll their eyes at my jokes again.” He stood and wiped his palms on his sweats. His fingers twitched at his side as he peered down at her. Hesitantly, he leaned down and gave her a quick peck on the forehead. “Get better, sis.”

~~~

The next day was Namjoon, Hoseok, and Jin’s turn. Namjoon, unsurprisingly, got there at the exact time Yoongi texted him to. He came in carrying a to-go cup of coffee with the Starbucks logo on the sleeve. Immediately, he pulled Yoongi into a quick hug before he could protest. “Here, I know you’re not sleeping.”

“Thanks.” Yoongi took it with a small smile. Namjoon wasn’t wrong. He hadn’t slept a wink since he got there, and it was starting to show. His raven hair hung in glossy clumps and he was starting to develop his own set of dark circles. “You can go in whenever you’re ready.”

Namjoon stepped in and closed the door gently behind him. “Hey, N/N.” He sighed and took a seat in the chair that he dwarfed with his long legs. “I know you probably could care less, but I’m gonna take care of your homework for you until you get out of this. That is, if you don’t wake up by Monday. Anyway, uh, Cheyenne couldn’t make it. She’s at a tournament in Las Vegas, but she sends her love. Maybe when you wake up, you can FaceTime her. She’s really worried about you, y’know. Even if you guys haven’t seen each other for years.” He gazed at her almost as if he was waiting for her to respond. He sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Normally, I always know what to say, but….with you there’s just so much to be said I can’t think straight, so I thought,” he fished a small book out of his coat pocket, “I’d read you some poetry instead. I know the guys have probably talked your ear off, so it should be a nice break from it all.” He cracked open the book to one of the pages he’d marked with a sticky note. “I’ll start with this one, since I know it’s your favorite.”

Life is unpredictable,

It changes with the seasons,

Even your coldest winter,

Happens for the best of reasons,

And though it feels eternal,

Like all you’ll ever do is freeze,

I promise spring is coming,

And with it, brand new leaves.

- Erin Hanson

~~~

Hoseok was already in the hallway when Namjoon finished up. “How’d it go?” He showed him the book in his hand.

“Just some reading. She always likes that.” Hoseok gave him a nod and circled around him to take his place.

He took a seat and rested his elbows on the mattress. “Hey...God, I don’t even know how I’m supposed to do this. I’m not used to one sided conversations.” He gave a tiny chuckle. “I was a mess when I heard about your accident...I mean, Fentanyl, Y/N? Fentanyl?? I know how bad that shit’s reputation is and when I heard you ODed on it, I was certain you were dead. It took five minutes for Yoongi to calm me down and say you were alive.” He eyed all the tubes and machines she was hooked up to. “Although it doesn’t really look like it….Fuck you scared me, Y/N. Don’t you ever do that again.” He grabbed her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You hear me? You’re the only one who knows how bad my coke problem really is. In fact, no one else even knows I’m bipolar. Only you. Because you’re the only person I feel comfortable talking about it with. So please, don’t scare me like that again. I don’t expect you to come out of this clean as a whistle. Hell, I don’t even expect you to stop snorting your prescriptions. That’s why we need each other. We can work on ourselves together. I know you’ll wake up. I just know it. And I’ll be waiting with a big ass bag of all your favorite candy and movies when you do. So, you just focus on healing that body of yours and get back to us as soon as you can.” He gave her a kiss on the hand and another on her forehead. “Love ‘ya.”

~~~

Yoongi eyed the book Namjoon had set on one of the chairs lining the hall. He picked it up and leafed through it. “Hey, Joon?”

“Yeah?”

“You think I can borrow this for a bit?” He looked over to see what he was talking about.

“Yeah, of course.” Yoongi continued to flip through the pages when Hoseok stepped out and shut the door behind him. His eyes were misty and his voice was a little nasally.

“That was a lot harder than I thought it was gonna be.” He scanned the hallway. “Is Jin coming?”

“He’s coming around six after he gets off work.” Yoongi said, not looking up from the poem he was in the middle of.

“Oh, okay. Well, I have practice later so I’ll try to come visit again as soon as I can.” Hoseok gave each of them a hug and took his leave.

“I can stick around if you want, Yoongi.” Namjoon offered.

“No, no. I’m okay. There’s really not much you can do here. I’ll call you if anything comes up.” He stood again and Namjoon gave him another parting hug. “Thanks for the book, by the way.”

“No problem. I’ll see you later.”

Yoongi took his spot in the chair by Y/N’s bed and delved back into his book. As he went along, he wrote poems that reminded him of her on the hospital stationary from the bedside table. He didn’t read them aloud. He found it hard to believe that talking would actually help. His life hadn’t been fortunate enough for him to believe in anything more than cold, hard facts. He wasn’t one for talking anyway, and he knew neither was she.

He didn’t realize how much time had passed until Jin came knocking with a duffel bag in his hand. “Who’s that for?” Yoongi asked.

“You.” Jin said as he tossed it at him. He dropped the book and caught it against his chest. “Now go shower while I talk to my baby because I know you haven’t. You don’t want Y/N to wake up and have you smelling like ass.” He had him there. He stood up with a sigh and took the duffel to the connecting bathroom.

Jin turned and felt his heart sink at the sight of her. It hurt to see her like this and not be able to do anything to help. “I hope you’re feeling okay in there.” He sat on the edge of the bed by her thigh. “I can’t stay as long as I’d hoped, so I’ll have to make this quick. I know you probably don’t want me boo-hooing over you, so I’ll try to keep the tears to a minimum.” He rubbed the smooth tape securing the IV in her hand. “I’ll never forget that time I found you curled up on the floor, in the middle of your living room, so depressed you couldn't walk. I had to bathe you and tuck you in bed. I even fed you soup even though you said you could do it yourself.” He smiled softly. “I know I have to take care of you sometimes when you can’t do it yourself. And that’s okay. It’s okay to ask for help every once in a while. That’s my job. We always joke about how I’m your guys’ momma, but it’s true. You’re the reason I realized how much I want to be a dad one day. Believe me, if I could take care of you for the rest of my life I would, but I don’t think you’d care for that too much.” A small tear slipped past his guard and dripped down his cheek. “Sorry,” he wiped it away, “but you can’t blame me. I’m worried about you, Y/N. I don’t know what drove you to do this, but I know you tried your hardest to fight it.” He squeezed her hand. “I want you to know that I’m not mad, I’m not disappointed. You were trying to take your pain away. I just wish you could’ve told me how much you were suffering. Even if you want to spare me the stress and heartbreak of it all, I’d rather know you're in pain so maybe I can help you. Please don’t hide like that again. I need my little gremlin around to give me grey hairs before I hit thirty.” He leaned down and gave her a kiss on the head. “And you’re worth every single one.”

The door to the bathroom opened and Yoongi stepped out rubbing a towel over his hair. “Sorry, I tried to take as long as possible.”

“It’s fine, I need to be going anyway.” Jin stood and gave Y/N one last glance. “I’ll be waiting for you, kiddo.” He turned to Yoongi. “You gonna be okay here by yourself?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

“Have you talked to her yet?” Yoongi paused. “You should. Even if you think it doesn’t do anything, you’d be surprised what comes out.” With that, he took his jacket off the chair and closed the door behind him.

~~~

The clock read 11:50 by the time Yoongi finished his book. He set it on the bedside table with a sigh. Over a dozen notes were taped to the railing in a long line of comforting messages. It was surprising how much it helped him take his mind off the worst. But now, he had nothing to do but wait. He let out another long sigh. “I’m sorry I haven’t talked much. It’s just hard not being able to hear your voice...I figured if I tried to say anything I’d fucking lose it, but it feels like I already am.” He rested his forehead in his hands and ran his fingers through his hair. “Jesus...what am I gonna do? If you go, I don’t know what I’m gonna do to myself. It scares me...One of the nurses told me you’d be going to a better place, but I don’t care if you’re going to a better place, I need you here.” He sniffed. “And I know that’s wrong, but I need you in this shitty ass world because I can’t survive without you.” He tried to blink the brimming tears out of his eyes, but it was no use. “There’s no one else in the world I’d rather be with than you. I don’t know how you made me like this, but I don’t ever want to change. I love you. I love you so fucking much I don’t know what to do with myself. I love the little things about you the most. I love that one curl that you hate because it goes the wrong way, how you’re not afraid to eat twice as much as me, how you grab my shirt in your sleep, how you walk in the grass with a flashlight during the summer so you don’t step on any frogs.”

The steady beep of the EKG was the only response he got. “Please don’t leave me. Please? No one’s ever made me feel this good before. And if you leave...if you-...” His head sank as he tried to hold back his tears. “It’s just- It’s easier to smile with you because when I look at you, I can feel it. And I-I look at you and I-....I’m home….Please, I don’t want that to go away.”

~~~

Yoongi didn’t remember falling asleep, but he woke up with his head resting against Y/N’s hip. He blinked away his sleepiness and tried to read the clock. 6:20. He groaned. Stayed awake two nights in a row and didn’t even get so much as six hours. Despite his suspicions, he did feel a lot better having talked to her. It seemed to bring her a little closer to him in these God awful times.

She was looking better. The dark circles were fading and the color was returning to her lips. It lifted his spirits to see she was visibly healing. He called Namjoon to bring him another poetry book. The stuff was really starting to grow on him. Of all people.

Other than a visit from Jungkook, Jiwoo, and Jimin, the day was pretty uneventful. A few nurses came in to take her vitals and stretch her joints, but he wouldn’t necessarily consider that an event.

“Here’s a good one.” Yoongi leaned forward in his chair for her to hear.

I don’t think you will

Ever fully understand

How you touched my life

And made me who I am.

You are the keeper of my dreams,

The man who holds my heart,

The one I want to spend my life with,

The one with whom I will always stand.

Stand beside through thick and thin

Through all that life throws our way

Knowing that this special love we share

Will guide us each and every day.

I don’t think you could ever feel

All the love I have to give,

And I’m sure you never realize

You’ve been my will to live.

- Stephanie Schiavone

~~~

The light of dawn shone through the thin curtains that billowed in the breeze coming from the open balcony door, casting the spacious bedroom in a golden glow. Yoongi shifted under the white, linen sheets and stretched out his spine like a cat. He cracked an eye open and took in the view of Y/N’s bare back on the other side of the bed. The fabric only came up to her hips and was pulled around to her chest with her sleeping hands. Her hair swept over the entire pillow scattering her curls every which way.

He ghosted his knuckle down her spine and back up again, repeating the action until her slender shoulders stirred. She let out a small, airy groan and dug herself further into the mattress. Birds chirped in the lush trees swaying outside with the coming morning. Yoongi scooted closer until her back was flush against his chest. The heat between their skin was a welcome sensation that seemed to fill his heart with even more love. If that was possible. He slipped his arms around her waist and buried his face in the crook of her neck. She wriggled again when he started peppering her with kisses up and down her neck and cheek. He finally brought his lips to her ear. “Wake up.”

~~~

Y/N’s eyes drifted open and fluttered against the cold lights of the ICU room. She looked down at her IVs and around the room groggily. Yoongi was asleep on the edge of the bed with his head resting on his folded arms. It broke her heart to see how tired he looked. Dark bags marked his red, puffy eyes from hours of vigil. Tears welled in her eyes and her lips drew into a pained frown as the memories of her night flashed in her mind. She squeezed her eyes shut and attempted to silence her hiccups. Her head sank back into the pillow and hoped it would just swallow her whole. There was no way she’d be able to face anyone after what she did. Oh God. Jungkook. Instant guilt and shame washed over her when she realized what she put that poor boy through.

When her eyes cleared enough to see, she noticed the dozens of messages littering her bed and side table. She took one off the railing with a shaky hand. It was in Yoongi’s handwriting.

When I first met you

I remembered you

From a hundred different dreams

And there you were

For me to love

All over again

For the very first time

- Atticus

A smile crept onto her lips as she read each one.

Your eyes.

Your eyes hold everything

My soul thirsts for.

- Paul Perry

She read another.

You gave light to my soul

You helped me to be whole

I have felt love for you before

And it will be more and more,

You are mine, my dear

You are the angel from above

Who taught me how to love.

Please, forever keep me near.

- Anonymous

~~~

The feeling of his hair being carded through slowly coaxed Yoongi out of his dream. He peeked an eye open. Y/N was mindlessly playing with his hair while she intently read one of his notes. “Oh my God!” He jumped onto the bed and cupped her head in his hands as he attacked her with kisses wherever he could land them. “You’re awake! Holy shit, you’re awake!” He pressed his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. “I thought I lost you.”

“You can’t get rid of me that easily.” Her hoarse voice was like music to his ears. He let himself laugh for the first time in the longest three days of his life. She looked up at him and he finally got to see those e/c eyes that he missed so much. Another wave of kisses washed over her that concluded with a final long, heated kiss on her lips.

“I’ve been waiting to be able to do that again.” She giggled and pushed against his chest.

“Get off, creepo. If the nurses saw you like this you’d get kicked out so fucking fast.”

“Oh shit,” he jumped off, “I need to tell them you’re up!” She watched in amusement as he ran out the door, then frantically popped back in.

“I’ll be right back!”

~~~

Everything that happened next flew by in a blur. She nearly suffocated under the hugs and kisses and gifts she was bombarded with. She was transferred to a standard room where she was allowed to have as many visitors as she wanted. Her entire day consisted of catching up with everyone, watching movies, and lots, and lots of Jello. Most of her IVs were removed which allowed Yoongi to curl up beside her that night.

The next evening, Jungkook was visiting her when Dr. Lobrano stepped in with his usual clipboard and pen. “Hey you two. If you don’t mind, I need to speak with Miss Y/N for a few minutes in private.”

“Oh..okay.” Jungkook reluctantly got up and left the room, stealing a glance on his way out.

“So?” She asked. The doctor folded his hands in front of him and looked down for a bit.

“I’m afraid there’s one thing about your condition that I’ve yet to mention.” She sat up straighter, her stomach churning.

“What is it?”

“When you first arrived at the ER you had major vaginal bleeding, so we did some tests...” Her heart stopped. “You were pregnant, but I’m afraid the shock of your overdose also caused you to miscarry.” It felt like she got punched in the stomach by Mike Tyson. All the air was sucked out of her lungs.

“P-pregnant..?”

“I’m sorry. I wanted to give you some time to catch up with loved ones before I informed you.” Hot tears rolled down her cheeks and her eyes darted back and forth trying to make sense of it all.

“H-how far along was I?”

“About three weeks.”

“Does...does Yoongi know?”

“I’m leaving you the choice to decide that. Once again, my deepest condolences.” He left her to process the news in privacy.

She collapsed onto the bed, her sobs coming out in hiccupy squeaks. Her hands gravitated to her stomach and tried to imagine the little being that used to be there. Three soft knocks sounded from the other side of the door. It slowly opened and Jungkook peaked his head in. “Y/N? Are you okay?” She only stared up at the ceiling. He approached her bedside. “....Y/N?” Her eyes eventually found him and filled with more tears.

“Can you hug me?” He immediately sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her up into a hug. Her shoulders quivered and she gripped desperately at his shirt.

“Hey, it's okay. It’s okay…” He stroked her hair and rested his chin on the top of her head. She cried, and cried, and cried until nothing else came out. Jungkook held her until her sobs faded, and her body leaned against his chest. He gently laid her down, taking care not to wake her up. Her peaceful face was a stark contrast to the tears that wet her cheeks and reddened her nose. Whatever the doctor told her must’ve been pretty damn bad to have her asking for a hug, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know.

Y/N was still asleep when Yoongi stepped out of the shower. Moonlight that came from a small window lit his path to her bed. She stirred when he climbed in. “It’s me. Go back to sleep.” He whispered. The sheets were pulled over their bodies and she rolled onto her side with her back to him. He took the opportunity to pull her closer. His face nestled on her shoulder and he let out a long sigh of contentment. She clenched her muscles to suppress her whimpers, but it was no use. He lifted his head to look down at her. “Why are you crying? What’s wrong?” Her eyes clamped shut and a choked sob escaped her chest.

“I killed our baby.”

~~~

It took a long time for Yoongi to wrap his head around what she told him the night before. When he finally put two and two together, he immediately turned her around so she was facing his chest and pulled her in as close as he possibly could. He was absolutely distraught, but only a few silent tears of shock came out as she sobbed into his shoulder all over again.

They slept late into the afternoon until they were woken up by a beaming Jimin. “Wake up, sleepyheads! It’s your discharge day!” Yoongi scowled at the unwelcome noise and lazily swatted at him. Jimin grabbed his wrist and pulled him to sit up straight. “Come on! Don’t you wanna get out of here?”

“Gimme a minute before I punch you.” He grumbled, rubbing his eyes. Jimin circled around to Y/N’s side and played with her hair.

“Y/Naaa, wake uuuup~” She cracked an eye and glared at him. “Oh, don’t give me that look too. It’s noon, and you’re supposed to check out at two. Let's get a move on.”

They spent the better half of an hour watching TV while Yoongi packed up the duffel Jin brought him. Y/N brushed her teeth in bed and spat the toothpaste in a cup when she was done. “Here.” She handed it to Jimin who took it and rinsed it out in the sink.

There was a knock at the door and Dr. Lobrano stepped inside. “How’re we feeling today?”

“Fine, I guess.” she shrugged. “I’m just ready to go home.”

“About that. It’s come to my attention that you have a history of suicidal behavior, and while it’s not my position to judge, I also can’t rule your overdose out as a suicide attempt.” “What?” She was dumbfounded. How could that be any of his business? “I wasn’t trying to kill myself!”

“But did you or did you not have any concern for your safety when you took that Fentanyl?” She pressed her lips into an angry thin line. She was angry because she knew he was right. She knew the risk and she did it anyway.

“What are you getting at?” Yoongi stepped in.

“According to California law, overdose victims are required to participate in a mandatory 28 days of rehabilitation. And since you’re also a danger to yourself, your treatment will have to be in a psychiatric facility.”

Y/N, Yoongi, and Jimin’s jaws dropped. There was no way he was serious. Right? Her heart beat faster, and faster, and faster with every memory of St. Joseph’s that flashed in her mind. “No….no, no, no!” She clawed at her IV and yanked it out of her hand. She threw the sheets up and made a mad dash for the door, but two male nurses stood ready to catch her. “NO! NO! NO! I’M NOT GOING BACK!” They hauled her back on the bed and tried to pin her kicking legs down. Her screams brought another team of nurses rushing in with a set of bed restraints.

“What the hell are you doing to her?!” Yoongi shouted. One of the nurses turned and put her hand to the boys’ chests.

“You two need to leave, right now.” They were shoved outside the room and forced to watch the crowd of people struggle to hold Y/N’s thrashing body to the mattress so the restraints could be slipped on. Jimin held his hands to his mouth and stared through wide, teary eyes.

“NO! NO! NO! NO! I CAN’T GO BACK! YOONGI!” It felt like someone stabbed him in the heart when she desperately called out to him. He could hear the terror in her voice.

“YOONGI!”

Pain filled his entire body and he bit the inside of his lip, visibly restraining himself from lunging forward and ripping her from the restraints that she jerked so furiously against. “YOONGI! PLEASE DON’T LET-'' A nurse sank a syringe into her hip and her legs quickly ceased their kicking. Y/N fell silent.

Yoongi stood like a statue and stared at the only half of her that he could see. “Yoongi, I-” he ripped his shoulder away when Jimin placed a hand on it and stormed away. He didn’t stop until he got all the way to his car in the parking lot. The door slammed shut behind him and he was left in silence. His forehead fell against the steering wheel and he let out a long breath.

A single whimper escaped his chest.

Then another.

And another.

Loud, hiccupy sobs wracked his whole body as he white-knuckled the leather wrapped wheel. One especially aggressive wave had him hugging himself in a bawling heap. He hadn’t cried like this since he was little, hiding in the closet from his dad’s drunken rage. It was scary how quickly he lost control, and he knew there was nothing he could do to get it back.

[write-like-you-mean-it]

Ex’s and Oh’s (Hisoka x Reader)

Happy (extremely late) Valentine’s Day! Hope you enjoy this Hisoka fic. I’ve been trying more second person. Also this is filthy.  Please like and reblog if you did enjoy it. Submitted by @my-child-gaara​

When you decided to go out with your friends, you weren’t expecting to find your ex sitting at the bar. The crowd did nothing when both of you two laid eyes on each other. Between the bumping bass and obnoxious drunk people, it was obvious that both of you had a distinct hatred for each other. 

“Should we go?” asked one of your friends. She must’ve noticed the flickering in your eyes or the face that his own eyes had yet to leave your frame. 

“No,” you sigh while stirring the liquid courage in your hands. “He’ll leave soon enough.” You tip the drink to your mouth. The burning sensation hit the back of your throat and made you scrunch your face. “He’s only doing this to annoy me.”

Your friend scoffed. “He’s doing a great job.” Your grip released a bit from the glass in your hand. You hadn’t realized the death grip you’d held onto your cup. 

“Darling I’d love if you’d squeeze me the way,” said the sultry voice behind you. Instinctively, you turn to be face-to-face with the man who unintentionally, or intentionally, had ruined your dating relationship for the near future. 

Smells of sweets, strong whiskey, and cheap cologne perforate your senses. “Hisoka.” His name felt like a hangover and candy. “I thought I got a restraining order on you.”

“I’d like someone to try and stop me.” With the flick of his wrists, cards appeared between his two fingers. “Now, how about we go and talk, hm~”

You knew you’d regret following him but it was going to happen whether you enjoyed the ride or not. You handed off your drink to your friend even though she begged for you to stay. “I promise I’ll be safe. I can handle myself.”

Hisoka brought you to a secluded part of the club. He must’ve been serious about talking because normally he loves to show off the fact that he was getting attention by anyone that would watch. Voyeuristic bastard. 

“Hisoka, I told you I was done with you,” you say; however, you’re a little too busy being consumed by his height and distinct lack of being drunk even when he was here a long time before you. 

He hummed while placing a single finger under your chin. “You say that except you told me to come here.”

“When did I tell you that?” you ask. He holds out his phone to see message after message of drunk texts sent two weeks ago. All of them were pleads to cum and the lack of men that could make your toes curl and leave you a whiney mess more than him. You sigh while turning attention to the wall in hopes of your ex not noticing you shift positions. 

He used the finger to turn your head back to look at him. “Do you want to cum, darling? If you wanted to, all you had to do is ask.”

“I can get off without you,” you retort. “I don’t need-” Your voice trails off as you notice Hisoka using his other hand to stroke his cock through the tight pants he always wore. The outline was extremely visible to anyone in close proximity. A single drop of drool escaped the side of your lips. You wiped your hand across your face. “Fine. Just be fast.”

Hisoka leaned in to nibble on your earlobe. “I’ll take as long as I want. You’ll still be begging at the end of the night.” His words sent shivers up your spine. Before you knew it, you were pulled into the bathroom and pushed into the stall. 

Your hands hit the back of the tile wall as your ex reached to rip off the thin fabric of your underwear. Your dress was hiked up around your waist which left you with a cold shiver. Pleasantries were not ones with him. It was straight to the point and full of lusty aggravation. 

A finger dipped in between your folds only to come up wet and aching. “Seems like someone is excited.” His taunting tone made you groan; yet, he stuck the finger in his mouth for taste. “As sweet as always.” 

Before you could respond, Hisoka held your hands up to lock them above your head. You were now at his mercy. You’d become extremely familiar with bungee gum used in the bedroom. You can look but never touch. 

You pulled at your restraints knowing it won’t help. Hisoka runs a few fingers up and down your cunt with little regard for the aching bundle of nerves. His touch left you a mumbling mess in hopes that would appease his ego enough to let him fuck you. 

“Needy little bitch,” he whispers. Hisoka releases his cock from his pants. It was red and aching from the lack of attention. ‘Is this what you want? You want this etched into you. The only cock that can please you.” He strokes his own cock as you do his ego. Each desperate plea for him to rearrange your guts was met with more dirty talk. 

The tip replaced his fingers trail up and down your slit. So close but not enough friction to keep you from clenching around nothing. “P-please,” you pleaded while your head leaned against his broad shoulders. 

Without warning, Hisoka shoved every inch into your aching hole. A mix of your curses and his grunts filled the small bathroom. He filled you to the brim. You both new that no man has filled you as much as your ex. 

“Move,” you grunt through gritted teeth. Hisoka, gladly, accepted orders this time. His hips thrusted quickly while setting a harsh and angry pace. 

“Normally I don’t listen to greedy bitches but you feel too good.” Each thrust left you breathless and aching for more. You desperately tried to release yours as the pace continued. Hisoka finally found your clit as he rubbed small circles. 

He caused drool to escape from your lips once again. The quick pace along with him touching you in the best way possible made the familiar build up happen much faster than your shower head had. You wriggle against his touch before falling over with his name. 

The lewd sounds of slapping skin didn’t disappear though. Hisoka worked you through your orgasm while trying for his own. 

Hisoka grunted once more and spilled deep within you. Coating every inch of your walls with his sticky cum. The action causing you to shiver once again. Finally, his pace started to slow. You both breathe hard against the sweaty clothing. 

“Fuck, Hisoka,” you say. “I was right to text you.”

Your ex smirked while pulling out of you and shoving his dick back in his pants. “You were always a good lay. Make sure to call me anytime you actually want to have a genuine orgasm.” His voice was sultry which left you a breathless mess against the disgusting sweat covered stall. Hisoka didn’t release your arms until he disappeared in the crowd of people. 

Once your wrists were free, you made sure to save his number as a speed dial for a good dick appointment.

VALENTINE’S DAY SPECIAL MASTERLIST

FULL MASTERLIST

[wanna-do-bad-things]

Command and Obey.

Word count: 4113 Warnings: Oral (male and female), restraints, throat grabbing, edging, dirty talk, use of toys, public teasing, Daddy!kink, unprotected sex.  A/N: this is a continuation of Be Told Twice, though it doesn’t have to be read to understand this! Not BETA’d so all errors are my own. 

tag list: @luclittlepond​  @fcgrizi​​  @henrythickcavill​​  @mitzwinchester​​ @mary-ann84​​  @littlefreya

If you’d like to be added/removed, please let me know. 

Henry Masterlist. 

___

“Why don’t you open your mouth, suck on this for a little bit while I...” he trails his fingers up your inner thigh and brush them over your clothed core. “get you nice and wet and if you’re a good girl, I’ll let you cum and ride my cock. How about that?”

-

His words had been true, just like you knew they would be. Henry didn’t lie when it came to something like this. He rarely lied at all but especially not about something like this. 

You’d sucked the small vibrating egg between your lips as his hands had made quick work of your clothing, stripping you down to just your underwear. His fingertips had stroked over your covered folds, parting them through the fabric of your panties. He’d quickly located your clit, the swelling of it at the top of your slit was too much for him to ignore and his middle finger alone had started an assault against it with such speed all you could do was grip his biceps so hard that thin crescents were imprinted within his skin. 

You’d reached your orgasm quickly, your thighs trembling and your knees almost giving out. Had he not caught you, you’d have fallen to your knees without intentionally doing so.

Henry had lowered to his own, pulling your underwear down your thighs and pooled them at your feet. Your wetness had coated your inner thighs, the smell of you brought him to kiss and nip at your skin, press his mouth to your damp lips and force his tongue between them - licking away at everything he’d just caused. 

He’d cleaned you up using only his mouth, before reaching up and holding out his palm to you without stopping the new waves of pleasure which rippled through you by that skilful tongue. Obediently spitting the egg out, it had plopped onto his waiting hand and you’d felt the smooth curve of the egg at the entrance to your core and the pressure of it as he began to push it inside. 

Once inserted, he’d driven you to the edge. Made you call his name over and over as the toy was switched on, stimulating you from the inside while he continued to lap at you externally. And each time you’d almost reached your second orgasm, he’d stop, wait for it to drain away and he’d start again. 

You were eventually given your second orgasm, but not until he was ready and not before you were begging. 

__

“Are you sure you’re okay? I could get you a glass of water?” You can’t remember her name, but she has a friendly face and her perfume, a flowery musk scent, is far too overpowering. Had your attention been elsewhere, you may have considered taking a step or two away from her, just to be able to breathe. 

“I’d love a glass actually,” you reply, realising this may be your opportunity to gulp down a few moments of unpolluted air. Your skin was starting to heat, your heart rate was speeding up, your muscles were tightening and you were struggling to put together a sentence that wasn’t please just let me cum.

For three hours he’s been doing this. For him, you assume this is amusing. Watching you squirm under his touch. Henry may be cruel tonight, but he wasn’t cruel enough to turn the settings up full. He kept them low, as a warning, occasionally ramping it up when it was just the two of you. You’d be forced to keep the smile on your face, your teeth clamping down against one another as you do so as he would ask you a question, knowing perfectly well you couldn’t answer as the vibrator sent stunning pulses throughout your pussy. 

You’d felt your eyes grow heavier, unable to focus and you’d wanted to bend slightly, reach for him and let out of a series of low pants as you worked your way through the stream of vibrations, but as the two of you are in a crowded room, you’d been forced to keep it together and appear as though Henry wasn’t edging the fuck out of you. 

Only minutes ago whilst up on stage to present an award, you’d watched as his hand had slipped into his pocket and you knew what was coming; and sadly it wasn’t you. The vibrations had turned on and you’d been forced to stand and attempt to keep a straight face for the duration of his speech. His eyes had locked with yours throughout it and it wasn’t until you’d made a noise, bringing the attention of the woman beside you, that you realised you were losing control.

Henry noticed, without breaking his presenting stride, and switched it off flawlessly without the crowd being any wiser of his quick in pocket turning off the vibrator trick. You’d tried to brush off your reaction to having a bit of heartburn, but she’d insisted on looking after you. 

“He’s quite the man, your Henry.” She comments as she hands you the glass. 

“He is.” You find yourself agreeing. Had he not decided to play this shitty game, you may have said it with a little more enthusiasm and a little more kindness. 

“I’ve wanted to see him settle down now for quite some time. The way he watches you tonight, it’s as though there’s never been another woman in his life. That you’re the one for him.” You’re tempted to ask her how long she’s known him to be making such statements but before you can, he’s making his way back over to your table. One hand is tucked into the pocket of his trousers, those beautiful fingers of his no doubt wrapped around the controller. 

He smiles as he passes other tables; making a show as he shakes the hand of some of the men who stand to greet him. You watch as he leans forward, his free hand pats them on the back of their shoulder as they exchange pleasantry jokes before he moves on again. He has the attention of the room and it’s clear to see why. 

“Andrea,” Henry beams as he comes into earshot. 

“Henry,” the woman beside you replies, a broad smile stretches her painted pink lips. She’s on her feet before he’s within reach, smoothing down her dress before she reaches an arm out, wrapping it over his shoulder as she stands on her tiptoes to pull him into a brief hug. “I was just telling your lady friend here that I’ve wanted you to settle down for many years now.”

“And here we are.” He gives her a closed-lip smile, but the warmth remains. “You’ll be very pleased to know I’m incredibly happy with my girlfriend,” he corrects her, “and I don’t plan to let go of her any time soon.”

“That is wonderful to hear.” She gives his hand a squeeze. “You absolutely deserve all the happiness.”

“Do you mind if I steal her away for a moment or two? I’ve spotted the two of you speaking and I’d hate to interrupt.”

“Not at all,” she gestures for the two of you to slip away, but not before she places the water into your hand. “For her heartburn.” She explains to him. 

“Heartburn hmm?” He asks as you move away from her.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Ahh yes, she does like to fuss.” He says in a quiet voice as he leads you from the busy room. “Though you are looking beautifully flushed tonight,” he says, tucking a loose lock of hair behind your ear. 

“I can’t imagine why,” you resist the urge to lean into his touch, even though you’d love to feel the brush of his knuckles over your cheek, the swipe of his thumb over your lips. 

“You make it very difficult for me to not want to just take you home right now. Especially knowing what’s under this dress,” his fingers slowly trail up the sides of your dress, feeling where your stockings and suspenders are, attaching to the lace bodysuit that he’d bought you for your anniversary several months back. You enjoyed arriving on set, wearing nothing more than a flashers mack, heels, stockings and this very bodysuit. His hands had traced the soft black chantilly lace, marvelled at the way it had covered your body like a second skin before having his wicked way with you. When he was in that mood, your polite mild-mannered Henry didn’t give a shit who heard as he fucked you into next year. 

“I can’t say the thought hadn’t crossed my mind.” You remain where you stand, not allowing your hands to wander as you’d want. Throughout the evening, you’ve tenderly stroked his face, cupped his jaw as he leant in for the lightest of kisses and fixed his tie, you’ve managed to keep them to yourself. Though right now, your gaze is drawn to the thick outline of his swelling cock and you want nothing more than to stroke him until he’s fully hard and leave lipstick marks upon the silky skin of his shaft. “You better hope that tonight passes quickly.”

“Princess, I know you’re not telling me what to do after everything tonight.”

“And if I am?”

He grins down at you, “I hope you are.”

__

“Hmmm, what to do with you?” Henry asks in a quiet voice the moment the two of you are home. Both of you behaved for the rest of the evening. He didn’t abuse the controller, though he had made a gesture once or twice when you’d ignored him. The barely there seconds which he’d switched it on, sending low pulses throughout your cunt had been both divine and a warning. Your attention had once more pulled to him and he was happy once more. 

The journey home was pleasant, small talk in front of the driver about the evening, the conversations the two of you had indulged in and though you had suspicions about what was to come, it was perfectly lighthearted. Certainly a calm before the storm, and when in this mood given his words earlier, it doesn’t rain, it pours. 

Henry locks the door behind you both, shrugging out of his jacket and unties his shoes as you walk towards the kitchen. 

“What to drink? Red? Champagne?” You call out as your finger traces over the bottles. 

“Red.” He replies, his voice much closer than you’d anticipated and you jump a little. His footsteps are now beside you, his back is to you and through his shirt, you can see the way his muscles knit together as he reaches for two glasses. 

You take them, choosing to take this moment to observe the way his shirt tightens as his muscles flex beneath the fabric as he selects a wine, pulls the cork from the bottle, and requests a glass back and pours a more than healthy amount before handing it back to you.

“Excellent choice.” You tip your glass towards him in a silent toast and he does the same once his own glass is full. After taking a sip, he places the glass upon the countertop and moves, standing with his feet on either side of yours, his hands grasp the edging of the counter as he stares down at you. 

You can smell his aftershave, musky, amber and something else, almost pine like, as it fills your nostrils. “You’ve got some making up to me.” He tells you. 

“Me? Make it up to you?” You want to scoff and it shows in your tone. “After what you pulled tonight?”

His movements are fluid, ridiculously so as the knuckles of one hand stroke up your neck and his wrist flicks, turning his hand so that his palm covers your throat, his fingers applying the right pressure to stop your movements. 

“Keep talking, and your words won’t be the only thing you’ll be choking on.”

You don’t notice the other hand moving but he must have done so because you feel the low setting of the vibrator kick in once more. He waits for you to say anything, and when you remain quiet, he turns it up another notch.

“Good girl,” he whispers as his lips ghost your own. When you remain quiet, he nips at your bottom lip, sucking it between his teeth and nibbles on it. His tongue swipes over where he’s bitten down, alternating between sucking your lip and nibbling on it, drawing a long moan from you before he kisses you properly. His kisses are urgent, deep and demanding. His lips prise open yours, his tongue enters your mouth and claims it. 

His hand keeps you from moving, though you’re desperate to grind yourself against him. You could of course try and maneuver your lower body, try to capture his thigh between yours and grind against it. You’ve rode his thigh before, dug your nails into his shoulder as he’d watched you rocking your hips back and forth, your clit pressing against his muscular thigh until you’d climaxed and shit, did you want to come now. Fuck did you need to.

Henry breaks the kiss, though his lips barely leave your skin as he trails them down your neck, sucking small barely there love bites gently on any skin he can reach along the way until he reaches the curve of your dress at your breasts. His fingers reach behind you, tugging down the zip. His lips leave your skin as he steps back, pulling you forward by your throat to pull the zip fully down before stripping the dress from you. 

His fingertips trace over the center of your panties, a smirk appears as he feels just how soaked your underwear is. 

“I’m going to need to feel that mouth of yours.” You’re pushed to your knees as the vibrations continue, feeling a little more intense as you kneel before him, your thighs clamped together and your pussy tight. It keeps your body on edge, it keeps you in check, it keeps you wanting and needing more. You lean forward, your hand running his length until they reach the zipper, working the button of his trousers and pull his erection free, stroking him from base to tip. It’s now you realise why he’s keeping the vibrator on and not using it intermittently like before - it’s driving you crazy and you move from side to side, rubbing your thighs together with frustration. Sinking your lips down over the first few inches, you whine around him as the shift in your position has the egg pressing against your g-spot and you palm the inches which you can’t fit in your mouth. 

Locking eyes with him as your lips sink repeatedly over the velvety head, you move your hand lower each time as another inch of him works its way into your hot mouth. There’s a tug at the corner of his lips as he leans back, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows and watches you take a little too much before you’re fully ready. 

Bastard.

His smile spreads further as you choke, your gag reflex kicks in, tears begin to spill down your cheeks as you close your eyes and your throat muscles tense around him but you persevere and he finally lodges himself within your throat.

“Mmm,” he hums, “I love it when you take it all.”

Henry’s hands lace through your hair as you drag your lips back up to the head and you circle the tip with your tongue, gulping in as much air as you possibly can before enveloping his dick into your mouth once. Once he knows you’re comfortable, he rocks his hips back and forth, fucking your mouth exactly as he wishes, occasionally pushing all the way in until your throat bulges with it. Despite the controlled persona he tries to maintain, you can feel himself beginning to lose it. 

“Upstairs,” Henry hisses, tugging on your hair and pulling you from his erection, a long thin trail of spit dangles from the tip to your lips. “Now.”

You’re yanked to your feet and your ass is given a slap as you’re urged forward, heels clicking on the flooring as you make your way to the bedroom, noticing the way he stops the vibrations, leaving you unsure if you’re relieved or disappointed. You’re barely inside when you feel Henry’s lips at your neck, his hands stroking their way along your skin before slipping over, feeling the soft skin of your inner thigh. Your pussy clenches, needing to feel his touch there finally.

“I want to give you everything you want. Everything you need.” He whispers against your skin, nipping at your sensitive spots just under your ear. “But I’m going to need you out of this. Leave the stockings and shoes on.” He instructs and you move, undressing yourself not too slow but enough to have his interest completely as you pull the soft material from your body and step out of it. “You’re being a good girl. Why is that?” He asks as he unbuttons his shirt and begins to undress. 

You’ve answered previously on another occasion, only to be told you were demanding and wouldn’t be getting what you wanted. He’d edged you for several days, touches here and there, his fingers deep inside your core, bringing you to the most beautiful orgasm before stopping just as you get there, just as you can begin to feel your juices soaking his knuckles as you almost climax. No, you know better than to risk this again.

“I asked you a question,” he says and places both hands on your shoulders, turning you around and presses his palms to you, pushing you back against the bed. 

“I’ll take what you wish to give me.”

“What happened to me owing you? What happened to that smart mouth of yours?” He asks as he pushes open your thighs and rests his hands on either side of your ribcage. His erection presses against your soaked core and it takes everything within you not to lift up and grind against it. 

“I’ve learnt my place again.”

“How did you manage that?” He asks, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip, only to clench his jaw as you circle your tongue over it and suck it between your lips. “That’s teasing, not learning to control your bratty mouth.” He tells you, pulling his thumb from you and climbing from the bed. You know where he’s going before he’s reached it and you bite your tongue in an attempt to muffle any groan that may sound. 

It’s fair to say that your small box of goodies has grown and Henry ensures each new purchase is fully tested and categorized. Foreplay, for solo, for the both of them and during. Restraints, in many variations had seemed like a good idea until you found yourself within them. Henry drops his chosen pieces onto the bed beside you, along with the vibrator remote and gives you a stern look. 

“Hands,” he demands and you hold them out, wrists already together before he can ask for that too. His eyebrow raises ever so slightly, barely there but you catch it and you know you’ve pleased him by doing so. The restraints bite at your skin; a combination of a heat and stinging sensation but you remain quiet. He re-positions himself, his lips closing over your nipple and tongues it to a hardened peak as his finger and thumb pinch and tug at the other. You hadn’t felt him move to touch the controller, but the vibrations quickly start up again, ranging from the lowest to a mid setting within ten seconds. Your legs extend, your toes curl within your shoes and your back arches, pressing your tits closer to his face as you cry out his name as your orgasm takes shape once more. 

The embers within your belly from earlier ignite once more, heat spreads throughout you as he tongues at your other nipple; the light stubble of his jaw scrapes over your skin and you can’t hold back the whimper that forms in your throat as he pulls his kisses south, his tongue swiping your folds apart and tastes you for the first time this evening. His lips close over your swollen clit. He licks, swirls the tip of his tongue over the sensitive nub, flicks at it mercilessly until you shake, reaching an orgasm with such intensity that as it rolls into a second one almost instantly. He slips two fingers within you and pulls  the egg out with ease. 

The buzzing quietens as he switches it off and runs his hands up and down your outer thighs until they reach your ankles. He lifts your leg, placing one at his shoulder and raises your knee of the other leg until it presses against his chest as he kneels before you, tugging down his boxer shorts and palms his cock. Pre-cum drips from the slit and the way your chest rises and falls at the sight of it, doesn’t go unnoticed. 

“Want Daddy’s dick?”

“Yes,” you pant pathetically before him. 

“Yes what?”

“I need your dick, Daddy.”

“Want me to taste me?”

“Yes Daddy.”

“You should be so lucky. Say it again, do you want my cock?” he demands as he runs the head of his cock along your slit, from your soaked entrance up to your clit and back down again.

“Need your di-” you’re unable to finish your sentence as he pushes inside, bottoming out and begins thrusting without giving you a moment to adjust to his size. Your swollen walls suck him within you until his balls slap against your ass. He feels as deep as you feel tight in this angle. Every drag of his length within you feels blissful as he stretches you open completely.

The more you mewl and whine, the more he fucks you harder until his name drips from your tongue like your cunt drips with wetness. Your gaze switches from watching Henry’s face, admiring the way he bites his lip as he stares transfixed on his cock entering you, reveling in the sight of it as well as the sensation of entering your tight hole and dropping your gaze to watch the very same thing. 

Henry was by no means small, he was both perfectly long and thick. The first time you’d felt him, you’d hoped it was smaller than it felt. Seeing it had your panties drenched, your pussy throbbing and your heart racing wondering how you’d remain in one piece. Seeing him enter you so easily, his large size dominating your smallness in comparison is incredible. Your breathing is shaky, it catches in your throat as his pace picks up. Your body rocks with his, your tits bounce with every hard thrust and for the first time, it’s what grabs his attention from the way he pounds into you. 

He lowers your legs and your back arches instinctively, lifting your chest upwards and groan as he closes his mouth around your pebbled nipple and alternates between nibbling and sucking. It’s exactly what you need, driving you lift your hand and suck two fingers into your mouth. Once completely slick with wetness, you push your hand between your bodies and play with your clit once more. 

“Harder, fuck me harder.” You moan as your fingers quickly match the pace which he takes you. You last, minutes or seconds? You’re not sure anymore. One wave of pleasure is barely finishing when another begins to lick. “Yes, yes, yes,” you repeat, his name quickly following as a mantra as your climax spurts around him. Your pussy throbs, sucking him in deeper. He barely pulls out before he’s pushing back in and this is what he needs to reach his own which follows quickly, his hips coming to a halt, balls pressed against your ass and every inch he has to offer is inside of you as thick ropes of cum paint your core. 

Lifting ever so slightly, Henry captures your lips. His kisses are soft and tender, a total contrast to the hate fuck he’s just given you. You reach up and grip his hair, holding him close to you as you kiss him back. He adjusts his body weight and you feel him slowly begin to pull out. Leaning on one forearm, you feel a brief sensation at your opening but it’s gone just as quickly as you feel it. He breaks the kiss, only for his fingers to take its place as he smears your lips with a wetness.

“You wanted a taste, now open up.”

[amerrierworld]

Steal Me Away

Carol (2015) fanfiction

request: “smutty jealousy Carol fic, where Carol is jealous/possessive over Therese”

Summary: Carol meets Genevieve for the first time, with an unexpected outcome. 

Characters: Carol x Therese, Gen, the McElroys

Word Count: 1,654

Warnings: SMUT. :)

The living room smelled of beer, cigarette smoke and take-out Chinese. Young adults, all around Therese’s age, flitted about the room in laughter and drunken stupors. Never before had Carol ever felt so out-of-place, sitting perched on the armrest the McElroy brothers’ sofa.

Therese, on the other hand, seemed much more in her element. She’d already snapped a few pictures of the party that night -and a few extra of Carol- and was getting on swimmingly with the small group of friends she’d made. 

Carol was in her best slacks and blouse, knowing a dress of her style would stick out like a sore thumb around here. A beer bottle in hand, she tried her best to relax, but it was only when Therese settled on the sofa by her side, staring adoringly up at her when her nerves began to calm.

“I hope you like them,” Therese smiled. Someone had put on a record, with couples swaying to the music. Carol could drown them out just by looking at her young lover, only hearing the sweet music of her voice. 

“Who?”

“My friends, of course!” Therese nudged her, laughing. 

“Darling, I was more worried about them liking me,” Carol chuckled softly, trailing a hidden hand over Therese’s back. 

“They love you, Carol, and why wouldn’t they? You’re magnificent,” Therese muttered, leaning back in her touch.  

Carol’s eyes flashed for a second, wondering who heard them, wondering if anyone in this group had caught on. But no one heard, and the music kept playing. 

Then a brunette came to sit on the other side of Therese, with Phil in tow. Carol noticed her immediately. Bright lipstick and dressed in pink, she stuck out in the group of greys and blues just as much as Carol did. Her hand on Therese’s back froze a moment. 

“Oh, hiya, Therese,” Phil said, settling on the other armrest. “This here is Genevieve, I don’t know if you’ve met yet.”

Therese and Gen exchanged pleasantries, guided by the mutual friendship of Phil. Carol drew her hand away from Therese’s warm body to avoid suspicion and sipped her beer.

“This here is Carol, my roommate,” Therese introduced her, “she works at that furniture store close to Madison Ave.”

Gen smiled at Carol, with no warmth in her gaze, and Carol did the same.

“Say, Therese, Gen was wondering about them pictures you do,” Phil chipped in, nodding to the camera on Therese’s lap. “She’s an actress you know.”

“Oh?” said Therese, innocent as always. 

“You know how it is,” Gen waved her hand nonchalantly, but Therese really didn’t know at all. “I’m constantly in need of updated headshots, but they can cost a fortune!”

“Oh, well, I’m sure I could help you out. Why don’t you come by to the studio-,”

“What about now?”

Carol’s grip stiffened on her bottle. She was looking somewhere else, but the tone and flirtation in Genevieve’s question did not go unnoticed. She knew when women flirted, hell she’d done it like this herself. Her blood suddenly ran cold. 

“Now? Oh, but I haven’t the right set-up,” Therese furrowed her brows. “There’s hardly any room.”

“What about in the back? There’s a spare room by the bedroom, with plenty of lights, Phil told me..”

In that moment, Carol knew she’d have to do something before she ripped the pretty girl’s hair out. Her bottle was almost empty, but using it as a bludgeoning tool really wasn’t her style.. 

A somewhat drunken Dannie walked past with a glass of red wine, and a slight angle of her legs and a tip of her shoe had him tripping. He caught himself with a shout, but not before a generous amount of wine had landed on Carol’s lower half, splattering her blouse and pants. Feigning surprise, Carol quickly dismissed Dannie’s hasty apology.

“It’s alright,” she spoke, genuinely, letting him take her beer bottle so she could stand up and examine the damage. Therese and Gen had stopped talking, watching her, Therese’s face stricken with surprise and worry. “Oh my, what a mess. Therese, could you show me the bathroom quickly? I may be able to save the fabric.”

“O-of course,” Therese stammered, handing her glass absent-mindedly to Gen before leading Carol away from the living room, her camera dangling around her neck. Carol could feel the brunette’s glare in the back of her head, and suppressed a smile. 

Therese locked the door behind them as to having no interruptions. Without another word, Carol began undressing, shimmying the pants down her long legs. 

Therese’s mouth went dry and she stood frozen for a moment, before realizing that the sticky fabric was tricky to get off and immediately helped tug the pants down her legs. 

“They’re no good anymore, are they?” Therese asked as she rubbed the wine stain with her fingertips, her voice filled with remorse. “What a shame.”

“Yes, what a shame,” Carol agreed, her voice deep as she quickly washed her hands. The tone in her voice startled Therese, knowing what the implication of that sultry rumble meant. Carol turned and leaned against the sink, watching her as she slowly unbuttoned her blouse. 

“I don't think I’ll be fit to stay the rest of the party, Therese,” Carol continued, as piece by piece, her skin showed. “I haven’t anything to wear now.”

“Well, m-maybe we can find something in Dannie’s closet? I’m sure Genevieve could help us-”

“Genevieve, hm? Your new best friend?”

“What?”

“A sweet girl, wouldn't you say? Quite... forward.”

“Well, I’ve heard actors have to be forward, otherwise how could they persuade people to hire them?” Therese quipped, her eyes downcast.

“That’s it then? Just being forward, with her sudden photoshoot request? Wanting to take you in the back, from everyone else, from your roommate.”

“Really, Carol, she didn’t mean it like that,” Therese argued, though she herself doubted it too. “She couldn’t have meant it like that.”

“Oh, sure, sure,” Carol said airily, “but there’s one thing she, nor you it seemed, didn’t account for as you were planning your photoshoot getaway.”

“What’s that?” Therese squeaked. 

Carol grabbed Therese’s hand and pulled it between her legs, staring the brunette down with a fire in her eyes. 

“Me, darling,” Carol hissed. 

Therese’s green eyes widened, her jaw hanging open at Carol’s brashness.

“Carol.. not, not here,” she began fearfully. Carol leaned forward and pressed her lips to Therese’s neck, sucking harshly. 

“Yes, here, dearest,” Carol mumbled, pulling her panties aside to let Therese’s hand slip inside. A lustful groan escaped her when delicate fingers rubbed at her clit, and Therese marvelled at how wet she was.

“You’re saying I’ve been neglecting you?” Therese asked softly, teasingly. “Really, Carol, isn’t that a bit immature of you?”

“How about that damned girl ogling you all night? You may not have noticed, darling, but I did. I know when women flirt- god I wanted to do her head in for it.”

To her surprise, Therese giggled at the growl in her voice, tilting her head to capture Carol in a warm kiss. 

“I was just being polite, Carol,” she said. “It’s not often we find other girls like us, right?”

“Still,” Carol grumbled, pulling Therese as closely as she could. “I don’t like it.”

“I wasn’t born yesterday, Carol, don’t you know I would’ve declined? Don’t you know I would’ve sent her on her way? You may have lost me a client just now.”

Carol groaned in frustration, “I know, Therese, but the way she looked at you.. how seemingly confident she was in taking you, I hate it. I had to steal you away.”

Therese watched her carefully, smiling with adoration and love. 

“I had no one to steal me away from you when we met,” Therese whispered, two fingers pushing in deep. “And I’m glad I didn’t.”

Carol’s head tipped back against the mirror, gasping, “me too.”

Her hips were bucking up awkwardly with the angle of how she was sitting, sweat sticking to her skin as she desperately needed release. Therese pushed her legs further apart with one hand, tutting.

“This won’t do,” she said before lowering onto her knees, pulling Carol’s panties off completely. Carol sucked in a breath, bracing herself on the sink as soft lips began nudging against her folds.

Trying desperately to keep quiet, Carol closed her eyes and whimpered as a tongue lapped at her clit and two fingers returned to their rightful place, deep inside her. 

Therese chuckled, deep in her throat, and Carol met her gaze, breathing heavily at the sight of Therese between her legs. She gripped the back of Therese’s head with her hand as her thighs began quivering. 

“I’ll never- never let anyone s-steal you away,” Carol gasped. So close, so close. “Oh, God, never, never, angel. It’s us, o-only us, I won’t let it be any other way.”

Her sentence became high-pitched and airy before a shock overtook her systems, her cunt pulsing around Therese’s fingers and crying out softly. Her thighs were squeezing and trembling around Therese’s head, and her own face was flushed at the erotic sight of Carol, half undressed, bra on display. 

Carol was leaning back, catching her breath, eyes closed, when she heard a click. Therese had angled her camera up at Carol from her point of view, and snapped some delicious photos. 

“You cheeky devil,” Carol breathed harshly, pulling her up to her feet and kissing her with a forceful need. 

“Only us,” Therese whispered against her lips. “Always, Carol.”

Carol’s head was spinning with happy, dozy thoughts as she kissed Therese again, again and again. 

“Let’s go home,” Therese said. “It’ll be more fun to make you come again without anyone around.”

Carol blushed as Therese helped her get dressed again quickly. The wine stains were a bit prominent, much to Carol’s dismay, but the outcome had been worth it. She could always buy more clothes.

[ghstandpucks]

Cutting Edge ~ Nathan MacKinnon Ch. 8

Hi everyone! I hope you are all doing well! I’m sorry this chapter took so long, but I hope you all like it! After school is done for the semester I will have time to update more frequently! This chapter kind of just feels out their relationship, setting up for the final chapters to come! Enjoy and let me know what you think!

I hope you all have a happy Thanksgiving if you celebrate! Be safe and stay healthy!

Prologue Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6 Ch.7

  Monday afternoon found Nate and yourself at the rink after practice was over. The two of you had spent a lazy Sunday together, working out how this relationship was going to work. You both decided to keep it quiet, seeing as neither of you were fond of the media to begin with. Also, you did not think it would look good for you and the program if word got out. The two of you wanted to enjoy the fun that’s supposed to come with the beginning of a relationship and not feel pressured by outside sources. You also decided that the team would find out as they found out, agreeing that it would help to have people on your side if word were to get out to the public.

All of this didn’t matter though as at the moment Nate had picked you up to move you to the side as he shot a puck into the net. “Not fair!” you yelled, laughing as Nate skated back over to you, kissing your forehead with a smirk. “That has to be a foul.”

           “A foul?” Nate questioned you.

           “A flag?” you questioned as he shook his head and chuckled. He was about to correct you when you jumped in. “Oh wait, a penalty! Yup! That has to be a penalty!”

           “Come on Coach, you really should know the terminology better by now,” he grinned, snaking his arms around your waist.

           “Guess you’ll have to do a better job at teaching me,” you smiled up at him, wrapping your hand that was not holding a hockey stick around the back of Nate’s neck.

           “Is that so?” he questioned, leaning in. You nodded your head as he kissed you. You were thankful for your toe picks in that moment, allowing you stand on your tip toes without taking the both of you out. Nate held you tight to him as he deepened the kiss, and you were about to let go of your stick when someone cleared their throat. The both of you jumped away from each other like shrapnel, looking over to see who caught you. Gabe stood at the edge of the rink with his arms crossed.

           “If the two of you are trying to keep this a secret, maybe don’t make out in an open space,” he said, then grinned at you and Nate. He couldn’t help it; he honestly liked the thought of the both of you together. That and both you and Nate were bright red with embarrassment of being caught. “Are you trying to keep this a secret?”

           “I think more just quiet,” you said softly, looking over at Nate. He nodded in agreement.

           “We don’t plan on telling anyone. Just if they find out, then they find out,” Nate clarified for you. Gabe nodded.

           “I won’t say anything. Besides to Mel that is. But seriously guys, hide better if you don’t really want word out about this. I know he’s concerned about your program Coach, so I’m assuming you are too,” Gabe said matter of fact. It was your turn to nod. Nate grabbed your hand and started to skate over to Gabe.

           “Thanks man,” he said once you got closer. Gabe smiled, looking between the two of you.

           “Of course. I’m happy for the both of you. But he better not get any special treatment Coach, or I will call you out,” he tried to act seriously, but you could see the amusement all over his face.

           “Oh please, he’s the only one I’ve made skate extra laps before,” you giggled, bumping your hip into Nate’s, which was more of his thigh at your height difference.

           “I’m going to hold you to that,” Gabe chuckled, and you dramatically saluted him. “I’ll see you tomorrow guys.” After he left, the two of you decided it was time to leave also.

           “Maybe we should be a little more discrete,” you said as you were taking your skates off.

           “I didn’t think anyone else was here. I definitely didn’t think of anyone coming back in,” Nate said, cleaning the ice off of his.

           “It’ll be fine right, if word gets out that we’re dating?” you asked, and Nate could tell you were beginning to overthink. He placed his hand on top of yours and gave it a slight squeeze.

           “We’ll be just fine Y/N. And I’ll be right there beside you,” Nate reassured you and you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your lips. “But, we probably should be a little more aware of our surroundings. So, lunch at your place or mine?”

~ ~ ~

           Later that month the team had just arrived back in Denver after a week-long road trip. You had been more careful in your relationship with Nate, texting more on the road instead of sitting next to each other. Finally being back home though gave you two the privacy you wanted. You were currently sitting crossed legged in the middle of Nate’s bed as he unpacked his clothes, having stolen one of his Avs’ hoodies. After arriving back home, Nate had asked you to come over instead of going home first, as he figured you would pass out the second you hit the couch, or bed in this instance. “Can we take a nap?” you lazily watched him bustle around his room. It wasn’t the first time you had been over, but it was the first time you had been this comfortable. As soon as you had walked through the door of his apartment you changed into a pair of leggings and stole his sweatshirt, the chill of the vacant place getting to you. Nate was about to give you a hard time, until he looked at you and it seemed like his world stopped. He loved seeing you dressed up for games and then skating at the rink, but now he thinks that this is his favorite look on you. He walked over to you and placed a kiss on your forehead, laughing as you gave him your best puppy dog eyes.

           “Aren’t you hungry?” he asked, as you had been complaining about how your stomach was starting to ‘eat itself’ as you put it.

           “Cuddles first, then food.” You responded as Nate sat on the bed and tackled you down, causing you to giggle.

           “You’re so demanding,” he mumbled, tracing the 29 that was on your shoulder.

           “All part of my charm,” you stated, snuggling into his chest as Nate chuckled. Nate started to tell you about the Mile High Dream Gala coming up as you slowly drifted off, feeling warm and content in his arms.

           About an hour later, a phone ringing woke you up. You cuddled into Nate’s side, one of his arms under you and resting on your hip as the other held your hand that was resting on his chest. You grumbled, rolling over as Nate answered his phone. You could hear Andre on the other end. As you started to drift off again, you had the sudden urge to sneeze…and it came out much louder than you anticipated. You stifled a giggle as Nate absentmindedly said “bless you.” Andre must have asked who he was talking to because the next words out of Nate’s mouth were, “Y/N just sneezed,” and both of your eyes went wide. Time to put Andre on the list of people who knew. Nate told him the two of you were keeping it quiet, and he seemed to understand from the look on Nate’s face. Once Nate hung up, you sat up and started to scoot yourself off the bed. “Where are you going?” Nate mumbled, grabbing the fabric at the back of your stolen sweatshirt.

           “I was going to go get those take out menus you have so we could order dinner,” you stated, falling back onto the bed and smiling up at Nate as he trapped you beneath him.

           “Five more minutes,” he whispered, kissing you softly then moving to kiss your neck.

           “Five more minutes,” you hummed.

~ ~ ~

           A week later the Gala had arrived and you were finishing putting on your earrings, staring at the dress Mel had helped you picked out in the mirror. When you told her that you weren’t sure what to wear, she had picked you up and took you shopping. You ended up with a deep blue floor length dress with a slit up the side. Slipping on your nude heels, your phone went off with a text from Mel saying that her and Gabe were there to pick you up. While Mel was gushing about how adorable she thought you and Nate were, you admitted that you didn’t think arriving with him to the Gala would be a good idea. She told you not to worry, then called you the next day to tell you that her and Gabe would pick you up, then have to leave before you and secure you a “ride home” with Nate. You laughed at her scheming, but were also grateful to have someone like Mel on your side.

           “You look amazing!” Mel said as you hopped into the back seat.

           “Thanks! So do you!” you smiled back at her. “Thanks for the ride you guys.”

           “No problem Coach. You do look very nice,” Gabe complimented you, shooting you a smile through the mirror. You thanked him and talked with them the rest of the way to the Gala. Once you were there and about to walk in, Gabe offered you his elbow to hold on to as Mel was at his other side.

           “Are you trying to have two hot dates?” Mel teased her husband as you placed your hand in the crook of his arm.

           “I mean, who doesn’t?” Gabe chuckled. “But I think someone might fight me for this one…” he tilted his head toward you. “…so I guess I’ll stick with you,” he kissed Mel on her cheek and you couldn’t help but smile at the happy couple. Upon entering the hall, the smell of wonderful appetizers filled your nose and chatter filled the air. Looking to the left, Bednar was the first to spot your little group arriving and made his way over, introducing you to his wife. As you exchanged pleasantries, you felt a presence stand next to you and smiled wider as you looked over at Nate. He was in a grey suit that fit him perfectly, and it took everything in you to not wrap your arms around him. His tie was blue, and you laughed at the unintentional match. You hadn’t shown him your dress, or told him the color for that matter because you liked keeping things a surprise every once in a while.

           “MacKinnon, you didn’t bring anyone?” Bednar asked, shaking Nate’s hand.

           “No sir,” he responded with a soft smile.

           “Take this one. Two dates are a handful,” Gabe nudged you into Nate as Mel smacked his arm playfully.

           “Rude,” you laughed, hoping you weren’t blushing too much in front of Bednar. But if Bednar noticed anything, he didn’t say and just chuckled.

           “We have a table Y/N. But if you’d rather sit with them you are more than welcomed to. I know you’ve become friends with some of the players,” Bednar said, motioning to the Landeskog’s and Nate. You opened your mouth to say something that still made your relationship with everyone seem professional, but he cut you off. “Which is a good thing. They trust you more that way. And I trust whatever relations you have you are using your best judgment.” Bednar smiled at you as you nodded.

           “Of course,” was all you could say as Bednar took his leave. You turned to Nate, slightly uneasy. “Does he know?” you whispered.

           “I didn’t think so,” Nate said, looking at where his coach had walked off to. When he turned back to you, he grinned. “You look beautiful.” You ducked your head as you felt your cheeks heat up.

           “Thank you. You clean up nicely as well,” you responded as Nate offered you his arm to walk you over to the table Gabe and Mel had set up at. Mel eyed you as you approached.

           “You guys are disgustingly cute. I can’t with either of you,” she said.

           “I think Bednar knows something,” you said as you sat next to her, Nate sitting on your other side.

           “What did he say?” she questioned you.

           “He said he knew I was becoming friends with the team and that he trusts I am using my best judgment,” you filled her in. Gabe chuckled and you quirked an eyebrow at him.

           “You guys don’t realize it but you kind of gravitate toward each other at practice. It’s not anything too noticeable, but if you are paying attention you can see that at the least the two of you are comfortable in each other’s presence.” Gabe filled you in. You turned to look at Nate and he just shrugged.

           “That’s not a bad thing,” he said, and you agreed. At least Bednar didn’t seem upset by it. As the night continued you had been introduced to many new people and had answered many questions about why integrating figure skating into hockey was useful. You found you way back to your table and sat down, your feet starting to hurt. No one said 3-inch heels was a good idea. You had also lost Nate somewhere in the sea of people. You were about to go looking when Andre slid into the seat next to you.

           “How’s it going Coach?” he asked.

           “Good, exhausting,” you laughed and he nodded in agreement.

           “Has Nate danced with you yet?” Andre questioned, motioning to the dance floor that had many couples dancing on it.

           “No,” you said. “We’re keeping quiet so I don’t think a dance would be good.”

           “It’s just a dance.” Andre said, standing up. “Come on Coach,” he offered you his hand.

           “Andre…” you started to protest but were cut off.

           “Come on. Live a bit Y/N! You look too nice to just be sitting here,” he argued. You rolled your eyes but took his hand and let him lead you to the dance floor. He put one hand on your waist as he held the other; your other hand resting on his shoulder. You were laughing at a stupid joke he made as he spun you around and into Nate. “Lovely dancing with you Coach,” he dramatically bowed, and you did a small curtsy to play along. Nate chuckled as he took the same position Andre had, but holding you closer to him. To anyone else it would look innocent enough, but the way his hand held firmly to your waist as he looked at you adoringly made your heart speed up slightly. Nate deftly tried to spin you, and you laughed as you came crashing back into him.

           “You’re a terrible lead MacKinnon,” you teased.

           “Maybe you just aren’t good at following,” he quipped back. You danced for the next few songs, noticing the evening was winding down. Walking back to the table, you both sat down as Mel and Gabe came over.

           “So, we’re going to go. Nate, can you give Y/N a ride home?” Mel smiled innocently. You tried not to laugh as Gabe sent a wink your way. Nate rolled his eyes but was smiling anyways.

           “Of course. If that’s ok with you,” Nate nudged you. You smiled back at him.

           “Good. Have a good night you guys,” Gabe said, leading Mel out of the room. After making your rounds to say goodbye, you walked out with Nate. He opened the door of his car for you, and held your hand as he started to drive. The two of you were lost in conversation about the night that you hadn’t realized he drove to his place and not yours.

           “Um” you said, looking over at him before you got out.

           “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking. I can take you home if you don’t want to stay,” Nate said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

           “It’s fine,” you said softly. Though the two of you fell asleep on your couch that first night when you got together, you hadn’t stayed at each other’s places since then. Quite frankly, you had always been so busy with skating that you had never actually spent the night with anyone. Nate was different though, and he made you feel safe. Even if you weren’t ready for that next step, you couldn’t deny that you wanted to spend as much time as possible with him. Finally the two of you were away from prying eyes and you could be yourselves. As you walked into his apartment and he locked the door, Nate grabbed your hand and pulled you back into him. He smiled down at you, dipping his head to bring his lips to yours. You let your arms wrap around his neck, and smiled brightly when he pulled away and rested his forehead against yours. Nate knew you didn’t have much experience with dating, and wasn’t looking to push you. He honestly just didn’t want to let you go for the night.

           “I’ve been waiting all night to do that,” he whispered and you giggled. “Have I told you that you look beautiful?”

           “Yes. But you can always tell me again,” you responded, laughing when Nate bent down and threw you over his shoulder. He walked to his room and tossed you unceremoniously on the bed. You started to take your heels off as he rustled through his drawers.  

           “Here,” he said, tossing some clothes onto the bed.

           “Hey, I’ve been looking for these!” you said as you grabbed the pair of leggings you thought you lost from traveling two weeks ago.

           “I think they fell out of your bag when you changed over here last time after we got back from the road trip. I just washed them with my stuff and kept them here for you,” Nate shrugged, sitting on the edge of the bed to take his shoes off.

           “You kept my leggings?”

           “You stole my sweatshirt,” he chirped back, and you laughed. You did indeed take his sweatshirt home with you with no intentions of giving it back. Not that Nate actually minded. You couldn’t wear his jersey to the games like all the other girlfriends and wives, so he liked seeing you in something with his number on it. After changing into said leggings and one of Nate’s Avs shirts, you brushed your teeth with a tooth brush Nate claimed as yours from here on out. Then after washing the make up off your face, you crawled under the covers of Nate’s bed and waited for him to finish up. He came back into the room with just basketball shorts on, and you couldn’t help but stare at his toned body. “Like what you see?” he teased you.

           “Maybe a little,” you blushed at being caught. Nate laughed and got into bed next to you.

           “Is this alright? I can sleep on the couch if you want me to,” he said softly and you shook your head.

           “Stay here,” you whispered back, scooting up to kiss him. The kiss was soft this time, almost like a silent prayer, and you cuddled into him as he wrapped his arm around your waist.

           “This is going to work Y/N. Whether people know or not. We’re going to work this out,” Nate said as you pulled back, running his thumb over your cheek.

           “I really hope so,” you spoke, tucking your head under his chin and letting his strong heartbeat lull you to sleep.

Tags: @bqstqnbruin​ @avsfans95​ @andreiaafaria​ @gravygravygravy​ @comphybiscuit

[my-northern-downpour]

Otherwise Engaged

This is my (late I’m sorry) Maribat Secret Santa gift for @kitsunebell! It’s a Timari story and contains fluff, some very slight angst, but a happy ending for all! My first time writing this couple and I had a hard, but good time. I really hope you enjoy and have a Happy New Year!

@maribat-secret-santa-2020 AO3

To say Tim was nervous would be the understatement of the century. Today was Christmas after all, and it was his girlfriend’s favorite holiday. And she loved literally almost everything about it. From the decorations, to the lights, to the cooking and smells that came with it, to gift giving and hanging out with family.The one thing she didn’t really care for was receiving gifts. She always accepted them with a smile and a thanks, but she hated the idea that people spent their money on her, even if some of them were billionaires. And this was what made him nervous. Because this year he had gotten her a gift, breaking their promise of no gifts for each other. And he had a plan to go along with it.

He had all day to get everything set up just the way he wanted. It wasn’t anything elaborate, but because his family was just the way they were, there was always something that can and probably will go wrong. He had already set up a private area in the Wayne Botanical Gardens, her favorite area with the tropical flowers in a variety of colors and smells. It was her go to area when in a design slump, and the location of their first date. He smiled as he recalled that day.

“Tim! Where are we going?” asked a young 18 year-old Marinette who was currently blindfolded and being led somewhere in her new home city of Gotham. Tim had been ecstatic to learn that his long time friend, crush, and now new girlfriend had decided to attend University in Gotham for their fashion courses. He knew a little of that world, but Mari had been a willing and patient teacher whenever he asked questions on why she was doing a certain stitch when and how she just knew what kind of fabrics to use. And in return, he was always willing to explain his business knowings her when she asked anything.  

“You’re so very impatient you know that?” replied an excited 19 year-old Tim Drake. He had never thought he would get the chance to take her out on a proper date, but now here he was, ecstatic and leading her to their first date location that he hoped she would love as much as he did. It was his favorite part of the botanical gardens and he knew she would love it as well. “It's our first official date and I want to take you somewhere special, so therefore it’s a surprise. You’ll just have to wait and see,” he chuckled at her sigh and tightened his grip on her hand slightly to signal her to pick up the pace a little. He, too, was getting impatient but he wouldn’t let her know that.

They entered the gardens and his excitement turned to nervousness. What if she didn’t like the location? What if she was allergic to these types of flowers? What if… He shook his head and didn’t think to much on it anymore. This was Mari he was talking about. She loved all types of flowers and he knew she loved places with color for inspiration. This was a foolproof plan… He hoped.

As they entered the tropical area of the gardens, he let go of her hand and turned around to face her. “Are you ready?” he asked. She nodded her head, excited to see where he had taken her. He reached up to untie the blindfold from her face and watched her face as she looked around. Her eyes lit up and her smile grew wide. She looked around the room, falling in love with it more and more. The red and yellow flowers contrasted against the green fauna made her inner artist squeal and add in the purples and oranges and she was a goner.

Marinette took another look around the room before turning back to Tim and placing a chaste kiss on his cheek. “This place is amazing. Thank you for showing me this place.”

It was at that moment that Tim knew he was goner as well.

Returning to his project at hand, Tim had started to set up a little picnic area for them to enjoy together after the big Christmas family dinner. Alfred had made up both of their favorite snacks and desserts and had also packed a bottle of champagne. Tim never really was one to drink these days, but he did indulge every once in a while.

21 year-old Marinette had been up all night waiting for Tim to get home. He had said he was going out with some friends earlier to a bar for a few drinks. She knew it wasn’t his patrol night, so that’s not where he would be. She had tried calling him a few times, but stopped after the third time, not wanting to seem overbearing.  They had just moved in together into their own apartment not too long ago and everything had been going great so far. Marinette was almost done with her college courses and was on track to open her own little boutique here in Gotham, and Tim had started to take on some more work load for Wayne Enterprises. She knew how stressed he could get at times and a few drinks had always seemed to help him out. But he had never stayed out this late before. At least, not without letting her know he was okay.

And so, in order to occupy her mind, she pulled out her sketchbook and began to mindlessly draw some designs. Tikki would come by to check on her every now and then, but even the little goddess got tired and found herself snuggling up to Marinette to fall asleep. That was at 2 am. And it was now going on 5.

Just as she was about to give in and go to bed, she heard the jiggling of keys, the turning of a lock, and then the sound of the door opening and slamming shut. She carefully removed Tikki from herself and jumped out of the chair to run to the front door.

There stood Tim, alive at least, but looking worse for wear. His hair was crazy and wild looking and his usually neat shirt was wrinkled and had a few stains on it. She could smell the alcohol on him a mile away. She said nothing as he looked up at her and smiled before tripping over himself and landing against the wall with a thud. After helping him to the bed and removing his shoes, she set a glass of water and aspirin on the nightstand and left him to sleep on the couch.

The conversation that followed was fairly typical. She asked where he had been and why he didn’t at least let her know he would be back later than expected.  He told her he was sorry to worry her and that his phone had died. He explained that he ended up at his friends house where they continued the party after the bars closed and that was it. Then he promised to not do it again.

Except he did it again. It was two months later, but it happened.

And then again and again and again.

He continued to go out and stay out on his off nights and even sometimes skipped his own patrols.

And then one night/morning he came home expecting her to be there, but she wasn’t. Instead he found a note on her side of the bed, claiming she was at his father’s house for the foreseeable future. She couldn’t keep doing this, waiting around all night for him to come back and worrying about where he was at or if he was okay. She wrote that she loved him and wanted to help him get better, but she needed a break for right now. Because she didn’t know how to help him.

It didn’t really set in that she was gone until he looked around the room and saw that it looked empty. Her side of the closet contained only bare hangers and her sketchbooks and extra fabrics were gone. He looked around to try to find the tiny flying goddess or any of the other kwami that she guarded, but couldn’t find them at all.

When he laid down, it was to a cold bed and he knew he had royally fucked up.

Shaking those thoughts aside, he took a look at the picnic area and smiled. Now all he had to do was make sure his family didn’t interrupt him this evening after they left the manor.

~~~

Christmas dinner went as smoothly as expected. Marinette’s parents flew in to spend some time with everyone and, of course, brought along some of their macarons. Gifts were exchanged and pleasantries were passed along. Time kept creeping ever closer to his time with Marinette, and Tim was feeling nervous again. He knew she loved him, no doubt about it. She wouldn’t have put up with him for almost 7 years if she didn’t. And he loved her more than he could ever convey. So why did he feel this way?

Ahh, yes. It was his brothers, who were currently trying to set up a way to sneak into the gardens beforehand and not get noticed. The only ones he wanted there were him, his girlfriend, and the gaggle of kwamis that were always around her. But even they were in on it, so they were going to make themselves scarce. Dick and Jason had set up cameras earlier, but Tim had found them and knocked them out. Damian, who really opened up to Marinette over the past few years, had tried to sneak a peak at the ring so he could give his approval, but it was moved before he could find it. Even Bruce had had thoughts of trying to get in, but Alfred had pulled him aside for some last minute details on something that needed his attention right away.

He looked at the clock in the living room. 9:30. It was time to go. He began to get up and walked over to Marinette who was sitting with her parents just chatting away. He felt bad for taking her away from them, but this was important. And her parents knew.

“Mari, babe. Let’s head out. There’s some place I want to go before we head home for the night,” he said to her as he laid his hands on her shoulders. She turned to look at him and smiled before turning back to her parents.

“Maman, Papa, is that okay if we go?” Her parents eagerly agreed, saying they would talk later and to have fun tonight. And with that, Tim and Marinette had grabbed their coats, said their goodbyes, and went on their way.

“So, where exactly are we going Tim? You seem really excited for this,” she inquired from her seat, Tikki sat on her shoulder and grinning widely.

“Now, where’s the fun in surprises if you know about them?” he chuckled as they pulled up to botanical gardens. He quickly got out of the car and ran to her side to open the door and let her out. Taking her hand, he gently kissed the back of it before closing the door behind her. “Now, I do have something for you to wear before you can go in.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a blindfold.

“Really? I know almost every inch of this place?” she giggled. “But, if you insist, go right ahead.”

Tim then covered her eyes and started leading her into the gardens. They passed through every single area until they reached her favorite room. This was it. Now or never. He reached up to take the blindfold off, but instructed her to keep her eyes closed until he told her to open them. He pulled the ring out of his pocket and got down on one knee.

“Okay, you can open them.”

Marinette opened her eyes and smiled at the room. It was always lovely to be here. It made her happy and always quieted her mind. She looked for Tim in front of her before looking down and gasping. There he was, kneeling in front of her, with a simple yet gorgeous floral ring.

“Marinette,” he began, “you’re my best friend and my favorite person. I’ve gotten to spend 7 years with you and for that I am the luckiest man in the world. You were there for me in my darkest time and you never stopped believing in me. You were there even when you had every right to leave me behind and never look back. You have no idea the hold you have on me.”

“I want to continue to wake up next to you, and to share your struggles, frustrations, and celebrate your achievements. You’re the only one for me and I want to let everyone know that. So will you, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, do me the honor of marrying me?”

Marinette’s heart was beating so hard at that moment. Her eyes began to water and she began to smile. “As long as you can handle the constant screeching you’ll get from my friends for not telling them about this, then yes. Tim Drake-Wayne, I would love nothing more than to marry you.”

His smile turned so bright at her words and he took the ring out of the box. She handed him her left hand and slid the ring into place before pulling her in for a passionate kiss…

That only lasted a few seconds because not long afterwards did a bat boy seemingly fall out of nowhere.

“Really Nightwing?! I had the perfect spot to record it all!” Red Hood shouted up to the ceiling where a chorus of laughter rang out. He pulled himself up before turning to the happy couple and whipped out his recording device. “Don’t mind me. Just recording this for prosperity’s sake, you know?”

Marinette laughed and Tim sighed before turning back to his fiance (Fiance!) and pulled her back in for another kiss, ignoring all the catcalls and whistles from up above.

Years down the road, Tim was grateful for the video, even though he would never tell anyone that.

[rhinoswriting]

'Working' From Home (Calum Hood One-Shot)

A/N: WFH related smut (18+) because it can't just be me who fantasises about getting laid on company time now that being locked up at home is the new normal.

***************************

As Covid continued its rampage through California, Ivy sat at the breakfast island in her apartment with a black coffee, buttered toast and her work laptop. She was compiling a to do list for the day when she heard a voice thick with sleep,

“Ugh, is it really not the weekend yet?” Calum groaned as he caught sight of her working when he padded into the kitchen in just his boxers.

“‘Fraid not, bub.” Ivy confirmed as she took another bite from her toast.

Calum stopped at the coffee machine and popped an espresso pod into it. As he waited for 'his' mug to be filled he rubbed the excess sleep from his eyes with the heal of his hand.

"So what day is it then?"

"You're not going to like the answer," Ivy chuckled through the small mouthful of toast she was chewing, "it's only Wednesday."

Calum dropped his head back and let out a long groan of frustration.

"Wednesday isn't the end of the world," She told him reassuringly, "And at least we can hang out when I clock off at 5:30. We wouldn't even be able to hang out for another month if you were on tour right now."

"I know, I know," Calum said as he walked around the breakfast island to stand behind her. He placed his coffee down on the counter and placed a large hand on each of her hips, "But it just kills me seeing you all cute in your work cami and satin pyjama shorts, looking all focussed with your furrowed brow as you chew your pen tip and knowing I shouldn't interrupt you, even though I really, really want to."

As Ivy chuckled at her boyfriend's sweet words, he began placing kisses randomly along her neck and shoulder. He kept his hands on her hips, and with the minimal force needed, scooched her further back on the bar stool, towards him and his semi. Ivy let out a small, happy moan,

"Mmm, I thought you said you didn't want to interrupt me while I worked." She reminded him as she moved her hand up to his neck and began to trail her fingertips lightly up and down it.

Calum took a break from placing kisses on the part of Ivy's neck he knew was the most sensitive,

"I said I knew I shouldn't, not that I didn't want to." his lips returned to her neck and his right hand slid from Ivy's hip, down the smooth length of her silky pyjama shorts, and onto her bare inner thigh. At the same time his left hand made its way up Ivy's cami. Calum was pleased to realise Ivy wasn't wearing a bra as he began palming her breasts.

Feeling Calum's touch across so much of her body, in the places he knew were all the right ones, Ivy found it impossible not to give into the temptation. Her fingertips stopped trailing along the back of his neck. She placed her hand firmly on the side of his jaw to direct the attention of his mouth from her shoulder to her lips. As their lips made contact and the kiss grew deeper, Ivy instinctively parted her legs a little, allowing Calum's right hand some of the access it had been hoping for.

Calum began moving his middle finger in teasingly slow circular motions over the fabric of Ivy's shorts, causing Ivy to moan into his mouth and kiss him more passionately, more desperately. She was giving into the temptation and letting her work ethic fade away, albeit temporarily. As if the universe was aware of this, the couple were suddenly interrupted by a crass ringing tone coming from Ivy's laptop speakers.

"Fuck!" Ivy whined as she broke the kiss to see who the caller was, "Oh for fuck's sake, of course it's my manager. I'm going to need to take this bub."

"S'alright." Cal assured her. He let go of his girlfriend's body and moved to the barstool beside her. As Ivy plugged in her headset, he began drinking his forgotten cup of coffee and placed his free hand on the top of her thigh, shimmying his fingertips under the hem of the leg of her shorts. He looked at her with a cheeky smile, while she shot him a 'behave yourself' look as she clicked accept on her manager's call.

"Hi Dennis." She greeted him cheerily. After pleasantries were exchanged Dennis finally explained the reason for his call. He had the quarterly management meeting tomorrow afternoon, but didn't have time to pull the stats he needed to present because of some client calls he'd booked in. Some people never learn, she thought to herself but kept her mouth shut; "Yeah of course I can pull those for you. Is it literally just the figures or graphs and the like too?"

Dennis began listing everything he needed put together. Ivy nodded along as she jotted each thing down as an item on her to do list. The longer the list got, the further up her thigh Calum's hand moved, and the harder she found it to concentrate.

"Okay, great. I've got all that down," Ivy took a sharp intake of breath that she tried to turn into a realistic looking cough because Calum's fingers were creeping closer and closer to her clit now, "So that's everything?" Calum's fingertips had reached her clit now and she had to put all her effort into focussing on ending the call and not visibly squirming as he stroked her, "Okay great, I'll get them to you before the meeting. Bye."

As soon as Ivy ended the call she pulled her headphones off and threw them down onto the counter. She was visibly flustered and mildly annoyed. The combination only lead to Calum's grin growing bigger as he kept his fingers in motion again her clit.

"You did well there, little one." Calum praised her. Wanting things to continue the way they were going before they were interrupted, Calum moved closer and slid his fingers down to her wet slit.

"That was so unfair," Ivy told him as she let herself give into his touch again, "You better fuck me real good if you want to be forgiven for that."

"Oh you know I will, honey." Calum said as he rose up from the barstool and wrapped an arm around the front of Ivy's waist, "I'm going to need you to stand up for me." He told her as he used the arm around her waist to help lift her from the barstool.

Once Ivy was stood at the breakfast island, Calum kicked the barstool out of the way as he began kissing the sensitive spot on her neck again. He moved his lips from her neck, to her shoulder blades, and then slowly down her back as he lowered himself and Ivy's satin shorts, which he had hooked in each index finger. Ivy's leant forward against the breakfast island in anticipation.

Once Calum was on his knees, and Ivy's pyjama shorts were pooled around her ankles, Ivy felt the familiar, teasing touch of Calum's fingers moving back and forth along her wet slit.

"Fuck, I love how wet you get." Calum admitted before gliding his tongue along her slick entrance a few times. Ivy pushed back into his face gently, non-verbally begging for more. But Calum's tongue left her body, "Are you ready for me, little one?"

"You have no fucking idea." Ivy whimpered which made Calum chuckle in appreciation.

Needing no further promoting, Calum stood, deftly dropped his boxers to the floor and held himself at his base as he moved closer to his girlfriend. He slowly inserted the top half of his tip and stopped; he wanted to drive her wild.

"Bub, more, please," Ivy whined as she squirmed trying to get more of him inside her.

"More?" Calum asked in a sly tone as he pushed the rest of his tip into her. Ivy let out a small moan but still wasn't satisfied,

"More, Cal."

"How much more, little one?"

"All of it. Fucking all of it, Cal. Please. Pleeaase," Ivy began to beg, "Please, Cal, I want all of you. Give me all of you, please."

Not needing to be told twice Calum relented and thrust his full length into her.

"Oh God yes. That's exactly what I want." Ivy exclaimed in satisfaction.

Encouraged by her words, Calum grabbed onto Ivy's hips and began to slowly thrust in and out of her, so she could feel all of him. It wasn't long until Ivy began moving her hips; her body naturally signalling that she wanted Cal to pick up the pace. It was a telltale sign that she getting close to orgasm but needed a little more to get there. Dutifully Calum began thrusting quickly and powerfully into her, his balls slapping against her clit. Within a minute Ivy was coming undone.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. Exactly like that Cal!" She called before tipping over the edge and helplessly gasping for air and biting her fist as she came.

Feeling her clench around him in waves as she came, Cal wasn't far from finishing. His hands left her hips as he reached forward to pull Ivy's body up against his chest. As he gripped her right breast and mound he slowed his pace slightly, but continued to thrust into his girlfriend with the same powerful force.

"Come for me, Cal." Ivy said as she began to grind against his hips with each of his thrusts.

"Keep grinding," Calum ordered as his thrusts quickened again. Ivy did as she was told and soon Calum's forehead came to rest on her shoulder, "Fuuuck," He panted as he gripped her body tighter and came inside her.

Upon hearing this and feeling his warmth shoot into her, Ivy pushed herself as far down his length as she could with a moan and then slowly pulled herself off of him. She turned to face him and kissed him as he embraced her with his arms.

"I might have to start blocking time out in my calendar if this is what working from home is going to be like." She giggled.

[amlovelies]

Addie part 3: Hope

I don’t know if anyone remembers the self indulgent andromeda six fic I posted at the beginning of the year but here’s the third and final part

fandom: andromeda six

pairing: Vexx Serif/f!traveler (Adonia Peg’asi)

rating: T

words: 1k

read on ao3

part 1, part 2

             When she wakes, she is sure the night before was nothing but a dream. Hazy recollections of music and laughter tease at the edge of her consciousness. Turning over, she spots Vexx’s mask on her bedside table. The black is harsh, out of place, against the soft colors of her décor.  Hesitant fingers reach out to brush against the satin fabric. Real, not just something from a fantasy, but real and solid under her fingers.

               The pain sets in. The ache in her feet from the heels, the soreness in her muscles from hours of dancing, but that doesn’t compare to the tightness in her chest.

               She knows even if he had stayed last night, even if they had made love (and she blushes at the phrase, but all the other words feel so disconnected from what she feels. She’s never been one to use profanity and every other euphemism seems to blasé, too casual for the way her heart swells when his hands are on her) he wouldn’t have been able to spend the night. She is still a princess and he is her guard. They would not be able to have slow quiet mornings waking up in each other’s arms.

               Her dress lies crumpled and wilted by the side of her bed.

               Her lips feel bruised and when closes her eyes, she can almost feel the ghost of his lips moving over them. She can remember so many details with a vivid clarity. A cruel clarity, because it still doesn’t reveal what had gone wrong.

               The face in the mirror is a mess. Dark circles encircle her eyes, and she can see the clear path her tears took in the dark smudges down her cheeks. It all washes away easily, but the mark on her neck does not. Her fingers trace over the edge of it (not just a dream, not this time).

               She gathers up the dress and the masks and shoves them into a dark corner of her closet.

               She spends the day retracing familiar pathways in the garden. She half hopes that he will come join her as he so often did, but there isn’t any sign of him.

               Is he avoiding her? Had she misjudged so badly? There were many things that went unsaid between them, topics that they didn’t broach. But was it really so strange to think that he might want to spend the night with her?

               The day passes with agonizing slowness, and she never spots his familiar form approaching with a crooked smile and mischief in his eyes.

               Three days pass. Three days with no sign of Vexx. The other guards are no help. A shrug and apology, no one will tell her anything. She’d forgotten how quiet her life was before Vexx. Just empty rooms and empty pleasantries.

               One week and she wonders if she is a ghost. Floating through the halls alone and unnoticed, she has always been the least useful of her father’s children. Never charming enough, or smart enough, or ambitious enough. Just treading water until she can be used as a bargaining chip to shore up an alliance. Her whole life spent waiting, until Vexx, and now he’s disappeared and Addie isn’t sure if she can bear it.

               Ten days pass and she is finally able to get a moment alone with Nerissa.                

               “Perhaps he was called away to deal with family issues. I’m sure Vexx is fine.” Nerissa tells her, but Adonia doesn’t miss the crease that appears in her forehead or the way she rushes her out of the office.

               Another week passes and still Adonia hears nothing. She can’t stand to look at the dress she wore to the ball anymore and hides it in the back of the closet.

               She traces the familiar path to where the passageway leads out beyond the palace walls. Their civilian clothes are still where they left them, carefully folded and waiting for them to go on the next adventure. She had almost convinced Vexx to take her to the silver district. She could leave, go try to find him.

               But where could he even be? He mentioned growing up in the silver district, she could try there. She could also go to their favorite café, maybe the staff there had seen him. If she could at least know that he was okay.

               Something had to have happened to him.

               Her mother suggests the yellow gown for the wedding. The one that Adonia has shoved to the back of her closet. How could she ever wear it again without remembering the way Vexx’s hands had made nimble work of the buttons? How could she wear it without replaying the collection of perfect breathless moments before everything had gone wrong?

               The day of the wedding she slips into a similar gown of pale orange. This one has a zipper on the side she can easily manipulate on her own. Her mother purses her lips, but says nothing when Adonia enters the hall.

               She won’t be here long. She had made up her mind the night before. Whatever else had happened between them, she knew Vexx wouldn’t just leave her like that. He couldn’t. Something must be wrong and keeping him away from the palace.

               Getting to the silver district will be easy enough. It’s getting back that will be the hard part, but she’ll have Vexx with her when the time comes. She manages to slip out not long after the ceremony begins.

               Her change of clothes is waiting for her and she slips the music box Nerissa gave her into her pocket. It’s stupid to bring it with her, but she needs the reassurance. She needs the luck.

               Her first few steps are tentative and hesitant. The paths are familiar, and she would barely hazard a second glance if Vexx was with her, but this feels frightening and exposed. She hurries quickly toward the square where they spent so many happy hours.

               She’s almost there when the first explosion rocks the capital.

[boltwrites]

Afterparty

Fandom: The Legend of Korra Pairing: Bolin / Reader (AFAB, fem) Rating: E Tags: Rough, Semi-Public

Anon Requested: requests open?!😍 okay thenn. Maybe a bolin x reader nsfw 😳 they’re at some avatar party thing idk and they’ve been flirty & handsy all night. They sneak off to an empty room trope. They’re all giggly and excited about being so risky. You can do whatever you want with this, just food for thought !!! Luv your writing btw;)

A/N: I labeled this as fem!reader only because reader wears a dress - everything else is gender neutral afab. hope you enjoy!

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The gala in Korra’s honor was wonderful. There was dancing, and fancy food, and Korra looked stunning, her arm wrapped around Asami. She smiled so bright, returning to the city after such a long absence, and you were so glad to see her happy again.

But, as happy as you were for your friend, you couldn’t pay attention to your success. This was the first time you had seen Bolin in a peaceful setting since his last leave, which was at least three months ago. Your heartbeat fluttered in your chest as he led you through the crowd, his arm wrapped around your waist as he introduced you to old friends and you caught up with the other members of team Avatar. But even as you said your hellos and exchanged pleasantries, you could feel Bolin steadily rubbing circles against you with his thumb. Your dress was thin, and even the gentle pressure sent shivers through you.

It only worsened when you were seated for dinner. Bolin sat next to you, his lips quirked into a half smile as he set his hand on your knee, squeezing lightly. You gasped – you knew Bolin never wanted to stop touching you, he was always a handsy boyfriend – but he usually kept it family friendly. The glances he stole were anything but, tinged with longing, with a promise of more as his hand slid further up your thigh.

You gripped your silverware with an iron fist, biting your lip as he traced patterns against your dress. You knew it was too long for him to slide his hand under it, but you felt your legs part nonetheless. It had been so long since you had been with him – maybe you should have skipped the fancy party and stayed at home instead, spread out on the bed for him, ready and waiting.

Instead, he teased you, chatting jovially with Tenzin and some of the other airbenders at your table while his touches drew ever closer to your heat, and you had to bite your lip to avoid making any noises as you desperately tried to enjoy your dinner. You had half a mind to hike your dress up right then and there, but there was a table behind you, so you didn’t dare for fear of being caught.

After dinner, all bets were off though, as everyone flooded the dance floor. Bolin grabbed your wrist, trying to lead you to it, but you planted your feet, shaking your head.

“What, don’t you wanna dance?” he asked, trying to sound innocent, even though his pupils were blown.

“I do… but not out in front of everyone else. I’m shy,” you teased, pulling Bolin closer. Soon you two stood chest to chest, his hands cradling your waist as you quirked an eyebrow at him. His breath hitched, and he looked like a kid in a candy store before he squared his jaw and nodded. You giggled as he grabbed your wrist and headed in a different direction.

He ducked down a hallway, trying different doors. You giggled, giddy at the idea of doing something so scandalous with Bolin. Usually he was a very deliberate and gentle lover, but now he was almost frantic as he wiggled doorknobs until one finally opened.

“A-ha!” he cried, pushing open the door to an old coat closet. You hid your face with a hand as you snorted, his enthusiasm contagious.

“How romantic,” you swooned, sarcastically, and Bolin just grinned, tugging on your hips as he backed into the tiny space. You followed him, closing the door behind you. It was dark in the closet, but just enough light filtered in through the cracks in the doorframe to see your boyfriend’s twinkling eyes, his amazed smile, so shocked that you agreed to do this with him.

“It’s not the best spot, I know,” he admitted, turning you both so he could press you against the wall, his head knocking a few of the unused hangers together, the wood clacking together in the quiet of the closet. “But I couldn’t wait. You look too good like this.”

“I can’t wait either,” you replied, tangling your fingers in his hair. Bolin leaned into your touch, his eyes closing as your other hand cradled his jaw. “I almost feel sorry that I couldn’t congratulate Korra.”

“You didn’t see?” Bolin asked, his eyes fluttering open just to smirk at you. “She left with Asami right after dinner.”

“Hmm, great minds think alike,” you chuckled, your hands falling to the lapels of Bolin’s suit, tugging him forward. He stumbled into you, and you drew him into a searing kiss, licking into his lips as soon as they touched yours. He moaned soft, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing closer to you, his fingers tracing up your back, his hands sending sparks along your exposed skin. You gasped into the kiss and Bolin took charge, showing you exactly how much he missed you.

When you pulled away you were both panting, the kiss far too intense. You tugged lightly at Bolin’s soft hair and he groaned, ducking down to kiss against your neck.

“Careful,” you gasped, your lips quirking in a playful smirk as you hitched a leg around his waist. “You might leave a mark.”

“Wouldn’t want that,” he mumbled against your skin, punctuated with a sweet, open mouthed kiss to your collar that was sure to leave a bruise. You shook, moaning sweet at his attention.

You clutched at his shoulders, still covered by far too many layers of clothing. You groaned as Bolin kisses down your shoulder, your chest, because while it felt so good, it wasn’t what you were looking for.

“Bo, please, I need you,” you pleaded, pressing his hips to yours. You felt him there, hard and ready against your hip, and you wanted so badly to feel him. He pulled away from your neck only to kiss you roughly, grinding against your touch as you squeezed his ass.

“Need you too,” he breathed, kissing you deep as he removed his hands from you to work at the buttons of his pants. You whimpered, clutching at his back and grinding your hips to his thigh until he was finished. He grabbed at your dress, hitching up the fabric until his thumbs hooked into the waistband of your underwear.

He slid them down, and you wiggled them the rest of the way off, tossing them away with a swift kick. You were too focused on Bolin now, the feel of his lips on yours, the soft noises he made against your tongue.

He wrapped his arms around you, pressing you firm against the wall of the closet. You knew him too well, clutching at his shoulders as you wrapped your legs around him, and he easily managed the position, cradling your head as he pressed you to the wall.

“Ready for me?” he asked, always a gentleman. You nodded, before you realized that he couldn’t see you in the dim light.

“Yes, Bo, please –“ you keened, gasping as he teased against your entrance, and your grip at his shoulders faltered. It had been so long, and the wait might just kill you.

But Bolin didn’t need any more persuading. He pressed in with one firm thrust that had you almost screaming, the cry all but ripped out of you at the perfect feeling of being so full. Bolin moaned low as he pressed in, and once he bottomed out, he stopped to catch his breath, the hand that he used to cushion your head now pressed against your lips.

“Shh,” Bolin shushed you, and while you wished you could make some smart quip about how Bolin was just as loud, it was equally as good to press a kiss to his thumb, almost willing him to slide it into your mouth. He responded with a soft “oh-“ his thumb brushing along your lips until you parted them, licking a long stripe along it before you wrapped your lips around his thumb, moaning around the pressure against your tongue.

“Y/n, you’re going to kill me,” he groaned, his legs shaking as he ground against you, his forehead knocking against the wall beside you. You only hummed, sucking on at him and circling your hips back against him. He moaned louder, his hips thrusting against you involuntarily, and you moaned against his thumb, until he removed it abruptly, replacing it with his own lips.

All bets were off after that. Bolin was always a gentle and sweet lover, taking his time to be careful with you, to be tender and loving. But now, with both of you so wound up, something in him snapped, and he thrust into you with a force that took your breath away. You shook in his arms, your grip on his shoulders faltering. He cushioned your head with one hand, grabbing your ass with the other for leverage as he fucked into you with everything he had. You saw stars, his pace so different and rough and amazing that it left you speechless, your moans silent as Bolin muffled his own noises against your shoulder.

Your voice returned to you as his pace stuttered, Bolin gasping against you. You knew he was close, and you tugged against his hair weak, your voice breathless as you pleaded.

“Bo, please-“

He understood you without even thinking, his hand leaving your hair and sliding under your dress to press against you. You keened, smacking your head on the wall, but you didn’t care. Between his pace and fingers, you couldn’t hold on, and you came with a cry of his name, his thrusts never once slowing. It took everything you had to keep upright as he chased his own release, his breathing heavy as his hips stuttered, once, twice, until he spilled inside you. You moaned low at the feel of him, tugging gentle at his hair as he pressed you against the wall, taking a moment to calm yourselves.

“Oh, that was-“ you breathed. You shivered, your muscles aching pleasantly at the rough treatment.

“Hm?” Bolin hummed, still in his post orgasm haze. You kissed his temple, petting through his sweat-slicked hair.

“Really, really good, Bo,” you finished, sighing to yourself at the memory.

You couldn’t return to the party. Not only was your dress ruined, but your legs didn’t work quite right. You didn’t mind heading home early, though. Not when Bolin was looking at you like the only one in the room.