#i’ve been having extremely bad weeks lately and he just warms my cold dead heart

[sadiie]

Not to end on the stan part of enjoying someone’s social media presence but following corpsegrinder on ig has been one of the better decisions. He’s such a great and proud dad and so geek about the whole plush toy thing. A delight to follow, truly

[sundaysundaes]

Jealousy

Lee Donghyuck/Haechan X Reader | Smut, Fluff, Drama | NC-17 | College AU Summary: It comes as a nice surprise when you saw your ex-boyfriend at your workplace and you thought everything was going to be fine. You both have moved on, right? Unfortunately for you, your boyfriend, Lee Donghyuck, thinks otherwise.

Warnings: rough unprotected sex, oral sex, slight choking, slight dirty talk, this is just pure filth you guys I’m so sorry I had too much feels

It’s the continuation of Before Our Story Began but can still be read separately if you want.

It has been months since you first dated Lee Donghyuck, also popularly known as Lee Haechan, and things were great—more than great, even, but all good things have come to an end at one point. Your relationship with Haechan is still going pretty strong, but now that you have passed the Honeymoon Phase—where it’s all just sex and raw passion—things can sometimes get a little tense.

While he’s been certainly fun and charming for the most times you’ve been together, not to mention adventurous when it comes to sex, Haechan can be really stubborn and selfish that you often start to bicker with him over the simplest of things.

Like yesterday, for example.

“Look, I said I’m sorry!” He whined and you held yourself back from rolling your eyes because that was so him and it wasn’t really cute anymore. Especially after he arrived an hour late at the cafe that he’d asked you to meet a day before.

“I’m not angry,” you stated, emptying the rest of your coffee. On the other side, Haechan’s ice americano was still pretty much full considering he just got there and you had ordered the drink for him an hour before, thinking that he was going to be on time for your date. But no, he was so into the new online game Jaemin had told him about a week ago that he began to lose track of time. It seemed to you that was all he’d been doing for the last few days, and you were fine with giving him some personal space but clearly not if he was wasting your precious time instead. Not everybody is as smart as him when it comes to keeping good grades. Maybe he doesn’t have to study much, but you do.

“You are! You’re totally angry!” He pointed out and you sighed because of course, I’m angry, you idiot, I had to spend an hour by myself doing literally nothing because you asked me to go out when I’m supposed to be working on my papers that’s due tomorrow but you kept yourself in silence. You had to be the adult in the relationship, especially when you’re dating a goddamn brat.

“Whatever.” You placed back your phone—which had been your only companion—into your purse and wore back your coat. “I have to go.”

His eyebrows—his thick, beautiful eyebrows that you love so much (though not that day) were knitted in both desperation and annoyance from how you acted. “Noona!” He wailed, grabbing your hand when you stood up from your seat. “What do you want me to do? If I could go back to the past, I would, but I can’t and you being unreasonably angry like this isn’t—”

“Unreasonably?”

Haechan’s jaw hung slackly on his face when he noticed the anger radiating off your body. You were angry before but not this angry. “I’m sorry, that came out wrong.”

You clicked your tongue in irritation, pulling your hand out of his grip. “I’ll see you later, Donghyuck.” It was cold, the way you said it, and Haechan sensed that. But being the whiny brat that he was, he just kept on shouting back, gathering people’s attention.

“Can’t we be adults and talk about this—Yah!” When you didn’t answer—or even glanced back at him—he threw his hands in the air, yelling, “You know what? Fine! I don’t really want to hang out with you anyway! In fact, it’s actually better for me if we don’t hang, ever!”

But you already had your feet out of the door.

On the next day, he came by to your dorm at four in the morning, making your roommate groan with a hellish fire burning in her eyes. “If that’s your boyfriend, I am going to kill him.”

“Don’t bother, I will,” you muttered in response before you stepped down from your bed, turned on the lighting (which earned another loud groan from your friend), and reached for the door. Haechan stood there with his hair looking like a bird’s nest, his cheeks reddening from the morning cold, and his eyes bleary from lacking sleep.

“I’m sorry,” he softly said in all of the sincerity he could emit. “I’ve been an asshole.”

“It’s four in the morning, Haechan-ah.”

“I know, but I can’t sleep thinking about what happened before and I don’t think I can before you forgive me.” He did his best pout. It was cute, but not cute enough to wash your vexation away. “Also, it’s raining heavily outside, if you haven’t noticed, so I thought it would add some dramatic effects to my apology.”

“You’re not wet though.”

“Neither were you before you met me,” he joked, wiggling his eyebrows but when he noticed you glaring at him in reticence—oh if looks could kill—he flinched and hastily added, “Sorry, bad timing. I don’t know why I said that. Well, umm, it was kinda cold when I stepped under the rain so I decided to just bring an umbrella with me.” He suddenly seemed like he remembered something. “Oh yeah, can I leave it here? I’ve got an early class today and I don’t really want to carry it with me everywhere.”

That earned another flat stare from you. “You’re not taking any of this seriously, are you?”

“I am! I swear!” He squeaked, shuffling inside his bag before he took out a white box with a red bow wrapped around it. “Look, I brought you some chocolates.”

“I’m on a diet.”

“Well, now, how am I supposed to know?”

“I literally told you that yesterday.” To say he was testing your patience would be an understatement at that point. “Remember? When you arrived late on our date and you asked why aren’t you ordering anything and I said I’m on a fucking diet!”

“Yo, chill, I was just trying to be nice.” Haechan grabbed you by the shoulders, massaging the sore spots and it would probably feel good if you weren’t so pissed-off over his antics. “Also, Noona, don’t you know? Men have a harder time remembering things than women do. And that’s just scientifically speaking, not me.”

You exhaled so loudly into the air, slapping his hands away. “Look, it’s literally four in the morning. Can we talk again when the sun is up? Like normal people?”

“Noona, pleaseeeeee.” He threw his head back in exasperation. “I said I’m sorry! What else do you wa—”

“JUST FORGIVE HIM FOR FUCK’S SAKE! YOU GUYS ARE TAKING FOREVER AND YOU’RE GIVING ME HEADACHES!” Maybe you and Haechan were getting a bit loud, but your roommate was just shouting like she was about to march on a war so you didn’t really have the choice. It was either take your boyfriend’s apology or have your roommate kill both you and your boyfriend at the same time.

Haechan sheepishly and annoyingly smiled at you. “She’s got a point, you know.”

But, of course, he does learn his lesson from time-to-time so things don’t always end up in fights. And Haechan can be considerate, if he wants, noticing the little things that you do. Like when you’re wearing a new skirt (or new underwear, for that matter), giving you his jacket when you sniffle from the cold (as cheesy as that sounds, it does make your heart flutter a bit), or intertwining your fingers together when you’re nervous before your presentation.

Hopefully today this considerate version of his comes out to play again because there’s something you want to talk about with him.

“I think I need to start looking for a part-time job,” you say, sighing contently as he has his lips on your neck, suckling on the soft skin. Your fingers are playing with the soft strands of his hair, unconsciously tugging at them when he brings his tongue into the game. You know it’s not really the best time to have this conversation—especially not when he has his hand under your shirt as you sit on his lap at the back of his car—but with Haechan, it’s almost always like this whenever you’re alone with him so you don’t really have that many options. “I’m running out of money.”

“From dumping too many dead bodies in the swamp?” He chuckles next to your ear, unbuttoning more of your shirt and pushing the fabric off your shoulder. “Babe, I’ve told you,” he mouths against your skin. “You gotta search for a new swamp that’s free of charge—”

“Shut up.” But you’re laughing anyway. This inside joke you two have has become somewhat of a routine—a topic that pops out anytime in any conversation.

You can feel his grin pressing against the sensitive skin below your ear. “Told ya this swamp thing could be our thing.”

“No, I’m serious.” But despite that, you have to hold back a moan when you feel his hand roaming around your chest, his fingers slipping underneath your bra. You can’t tell him exactly why you need this job because you don’t want him to feel sorry for you. But the truth is, your parents back home have been having financial problems and you know how costly your college tuition can get. You just want to help out, even if it’s not much, and try to survive on your own without using your parents’ money. “I need some pocket money.”

Haechan has your earlobe between his teeth, his breathing feels warm and extremely sexy in your ears. “Mmm, for what?”

“To buy personal things.”

“What personal things?”

“Like…” You bite your lower lip, having the hardest time concentrating when he starts to play with your nipple, his thumb brushing against the sensitive bud. “I don’t know, like girl things.”

Haechan suddenly pulls away, looking you straight in the eyes with his own gleaming in excitement. “You mean like a customized dildo?”

“Make-up, Donghyuck.” You flatly stare back. All your sexual excitement from before? Gone. “I mean, make-up.”

“Sure, that too. But,” he insists and you roll your eyes, knowing where this is going. “Have you ever considered playing with a dildo in your spare time? Because I have. I mean, picturing you using it. Not me using it in my ass, oh God, no.”

“Are you done?”

“No, seriously.” It turns out, he’s not finished. And he still has a long way to go, judging by the enthusiastic look in his eyes. “Because I would totally buy it for you if it’s a dildo you need. Or any sex toys, for that matter. No matter how expensive it is, I’ll pay! I’ll save up some money and buy some so we can use them together in the future!”

He’s making it look like he’s talking about buying a house for your future marriage and it’s cute and disgusting at the same time so you stop him by pinching the bridge of his nose. It’s pathetic, the way he whines, but as long as it can stop him from sputtering nonsense, you’ll do it again.

“Why do you need make-up anyway?” He eventually gives up, rubbing his red nose, still wincing from the pain. “You’re already pretty without it.” And it really does sound sincere, the way he says it. Haechan flirts a lot, even when you’ve been together for months, he still does it pretty often. But he does have his sincerity from time to time, just like now, and you can’t help but blush a little because of it.

“Well, I’m more confident with it.”

“Well, of course, you do look smoking hot with your make-up on, don’t get me wrong,” he adds, lazily circling his arms around your waist as he leans his back to the car’s seat. “But you’re beautiful the way you are too. Like, you literally can wear that I woke up like this shirt every morning and you won’t find me complaining.”

“You complained about my morning breath this morning.”

“That you should work on.”

“Asshole.” You push a palm against his face, which he licks playfully like a dog. This is your favorite Haechan, if you have to be honest, with his lips pulled back showcasing a boyish grin, his eyes sparkling as he gazes at you, and his voice sounding light and airy with a hint of teasing in his words. And of course, also with the way he has his hair slightly pushed back, his forehead shown and his eyebrows raised whenever he throws flirty lines at you.

You really should consider yourself lucky to be able to call someone like him, who has the perfect balance of cute and sexy, as your boyfriend.

“I really like you,” you say, abruptly out of nowhere that it surprises you too. Haechan’s laughter stops almost immediately, his eyes searching yours. There’s silence hanging in the air, slowly suffocating you, and you’re about to beg him to say something when he smiles, so gentle and soft, with his hand reaching up to cup your cheek, rubbing comforting circles with his thumb.

“I really like you too,” he says, almost like he’s sighing. His eyes go up-and-down your face, switching from your eyes and your lips. “I like you so much that it drives me crazy sometimes.”

It’s insane how fast he can turn your steady heart rate into something that beats too loudly for your ears. “Okay, stop right there. I can’t with all this cheesiness you’re throwing at me. Let’s just make-out.”

And that sexy smirk of his grows back almost immediately. “I won’t argue with that.”

***

It’s not easy getting a job these days, especially when you don’t really have a set of skills you can be proud of but luckily enough, you’ve found a part-time job as a waiter at a family restaurant nearby. The salary is slightly below your expectation so maybe you have to recalculate your budgeting again but beggars can’t be choosers. You thought it should be enough for now. And the most important thing is, you only have to work three days a week so you can fit in well with your campus’ schedule.

The only remaining problem is your boyfriend because, believe it or not, he demands more time than all of your classes and assignments combined.

“I can’t believe we have our Netflix account renewed like two months ago and yet we haven’t watched anything on it,” Haechan complains, a bag of popcorn on his lap. He’s in his black sweat pants, hair all tousled from lying around on the bed all day. He’s already munching more than he should, even way before you can log in to your Netflix account. “At this point, we’re just throwing our money away.”

“Don’t blame me,” you retort, taking the bowl into your arms so you can climb into his lap, snuggling close to his chest. “I’m not the one who got my dick hard during the first half of literally every movie we decided to watch together.”

“You literally rubbed your ass against my crotch every single time. What a man gotta do in that situation?”

A smile creeps up your face. That you certainly did. It’s just so funny to have him flinch every now and then whenever you move slightly in his arms so you often just exaggerate your movements a bit, sometimes leaning forward in a suggestive way whenever you tried to change the brightness of your MacBook screen—so Haechan could take a good look of your ass—before settling back between his legs, making sure to give him enough friction as you slid down. Or sometimes you just laid your head on his shoulder, pressing a random kiss to his neck, and just went back to watching the screen as if you didn’t do anything. It really didn’t take long before Haechan groaned in exasperation, threw the bowl away, tackled you down to the bed, and pulled your shorts down your legs.

“Should I move away then?” You offer. “We can stay, like, five feet apart from each other as we watch this.”

“Nah.” He shakes his head, pulling you closer again to his chest. “I like to snuggle. You’re warm and you smell really good, it comforts me. Besides, having sex with you is so much better than watching every movie out there.”

“Even better than watching The Kissing Booth?”

“Yah!” The way his cheeks turn scarlet almost immediately is too cute for you to handle. “You promised you wouldn’t make fun of me! See, this is why I—”

You cut him off with a chaste kiss, letting your lips linger on his the way he likes it before you pull away and pat him on the cheek. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it. Forgive me?”

Haechan unconsciously juts his lower lip out, just a little. “Fine,” he mutters, wrapping his arms tighter around your waist before he skims his nose along the nape of your neck. “Only because you’re cute,” he whispers.

“Oh right, that reminds me,” you say, closing your eyes as you listen to his breathing. It’s somewhat calming your nerves, after a long day of doing… well, nothing, actually. “I’ll be busy every Wednesday, Saturday and Sunday from now on so we won’t be able to hang out during those days.”

“What?!” He shrieks, almost turning you deaf. “Why?!”

“Because I have my part-time job, didn’t I tell you that before?” You can honestly hear your ears ringing from the loudness of his voice. “Or did you not listen to me again?”

“I can handle it if you work during the weekdays, but on the weekends too?” He’s actually looking pretty upset, though not that you haven’t expected him to be. “That’s our time! How can you do that to me? To us?! This is so not fair!”

You roll your eyes. “Stop being a drama queen. You literally spent the last weekend playing Overwatch at Jaemin’s place.”

“Whoa, hey,” he crows, pulling away from you with both hands raised in the air and forcing you to turn and look at him in the eyes. You do it as you nonchalantly munch on your popcorn, enjoying how dramatic your boyfriend can be at times like this. “Once again, lady,” he stresses on the word, narrowing his eyes at you. “They were holding a very, very important Anniversary Event and that does not happen every day. It’s not like I have any other choice! They were giving out new skins and other rewards!”

“Your choice was to spend your Saturday night with your fingers on your keyboard or in me. That was your choice.”

Haechan opens his mouth to say something, already holding out one finger in the air as if he’s about to make a good excuse but he fails almost immediately when your point begins to sink in his head. “You’re right,” he admits, “I’m sorry. What was I thinking? I should’ve been wiser.”

You pat his hair as you would do to a child. “Look, we can still hang out. I only work during the day, you know. You can always pick me up after work and we can get dinner together or something.”

He pouts, lowering his head as he murmurs, “It’s still not the same, though. I like spending time with you.”

You can feel your heart flutter from the way he says his line so genuinely. “Me too, Haechannie. Let’s just promise to always meet up on the weekends after I’m done with my work.”

The pout still does not falter away but it’s nothing a kiss can’t fix.

***

“Haechannie, I really need to go.” You struggle to slip yourself away from his long arms, holding back a laugh as you do it, and you almost reach the end of his bed but your boyfriend easily hooks an arm around your waist and pulls you back into his chest.

After not seeing each other for five days, you could finally see your boyfriend with his dazzling bright smile in person when he picked you up after work on a Saturday evening. You didn’t realize how much you’d missed him until he snatched you back into his embrace, intoxicating you with his amazing scent and airy laughter that sounds like music to your ears. It was a good thing being separated for a few days like that because Haechan became much more clingy in the most adorable way, following you around like a lovesick puppy. Even during sex, he was all giggly and soft, gently asking you how you feel, whether he was being too fast, or simply just telling you how beautiful you look even when you were pretty much exhausted from work. It was a nice change.

Both of you are still pretty much naked from the morning shower you just took together—or rather, the morning shower you took when suddenly your boyfriend came barging in, greasily saying, “My, my, there’s a naked lady in my shower. This must be my lucky day,” and ended up moaning against your mouth instead of washing the soap off your body.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he says, smiling into the kiss just like you do and you let him part your lips with his, slowly slipping his tongue in and tasting the roof of your mouth. “Oh man, I must be a freak for being so turned on from the fact that you’re wearing my shampoo.”

“You’ve always been a freak,” you snicker, pushing his face away with your palm. “Now, get off me. Jaemin can come back any second.”

“Jaemin’s too busy sucking Jeno’s morning wood, I’m sure. He won’t be back anytime soon.”

“Well, my shift is starting in thirty minutes.”

“Which leaves us twenty-nine minutes and fifty seconds to get each other off and ten seconds for you to get ready.” He lowly chuckles, his voice still sounding quite deep from sleep as he nips against the column of your neck.

“I’m serious…” You can tell that your voice becomes way less convincing. It’s just Haechan feels so warm and he smells so good, you have to literally offer your best effort to deny him and his touches. You’re still in the middle of putting in that so-called effort when you notice he’s sucking on the supple skin, to the point it begins to hurt a little bit. “Don’t suck too hard! You’ll leave bruises and I am not gonna wear a scarf again.”

“Good,” he murmurs against your skin. “So everyone will know you’re mine.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

You sigh, tangling your fingers around his hair, arching your back to press your body closer to him. “You can be too possessive sometimes, do you know that?”

“Any man would if their girlfriend is as pretty as you,” he replies, pulling away from you a little so he can bore his eyes into yours. “Stay with me today.”

As much as you want to, especially with that hooded eyes looking at you with so much passion and desire, you have to be the responsible adult for today. “I can’t, Haechannie.”

“Noona~” His serious demeanor falters, and the whiny brat that he is comes back to the surface again. “Pleaseeee~ I’m lonely and I’m hard, can’t you just be kind to me for just one day?”

“Are you using your aegyo on me to get a quickie? Seriously?”

“What, it’s not working?” He tilts his head to the side, looking at you with that sexy smirk and his eyebrow raised seductively. “I thought aegyo was your thing.”

No, but your goddamn smirk and eyebrow raise surely are. “Fuck, okay, ten minutes. Can we finish in ten minutes?”

“I can guarantee that you will.” His smirk grows wider, licking his lower lip. “But I’m not sure if you can make me.”

“Is that a challenge?” You push him with both hands until he falls back to the bed, with you straddling his lap. “I’m going to make you take your words back, Lee Donghyuck, you better be prepared.”

***

You’ve broken two plates so far, and you’re sure you’re about to be fired if you even do a tiny mistake in the next hour but you try to keep yourself calm and composed and promise yourself to do better. It’s not that you’re a lousy waiter—okay, maybe a bit from the lack of experience—but the restaurant you’re working in can be surprisingly packed during lunch hours and it’s really taking all that you have to carry three porcelain plates on a tray as you walk on high heels that are killing you in every step you take. You often complain about the blisters at the back of your heels when you sit next to Haechan in his car, which usually ends up with him massaging your feet, while mumbling, “See, this is why you should’ve agreed with me when I told you about buying dildos. I would work my ass off to pay for that, and you can just lie around in my room all day.”

You’re getting better at your job the more days go by, and you’re much confident now in talking with customers. You’re already standing pretty in your uniform with a menu book in your arms, ready to greet the next customer but when the front door opens, all of your professionalism just goes straight out of the window.

“No way…” Your jaw hangs loosely on your face, eyes blinking twice in surprise. You can’t believe what you’re seeing. There, walking through the entrance door of the restaurant, is your ex-boyfriend from high school, Jeong Jaehyun. Dressed perfectly in a light blue buttoned-up shirt and a pair of black khaki pants, Jaehyun looks much, much better than how you remembered him to be. His dark hair stands in contrast to his pale skin, his veins appearing along his wrists and you have to remind yourself to stop staring and proceed with your work.

You take hesitant steps to meet him, swallowing your nervous breath and hoping that you don’t look as awkward as you think. You almost trip on your own feet when you notice Jaehyun looking back at you, his eyes widening in surprise before his lips turn upward into that gentle smile that reminds you of how he used to be back in high school. Maybe some things never change.

“Hi,” you greet with an awkward smile on your face.

“Hey.” The way his eyes droop slightly when he sees you feels nostalgic, and perhaps he’s much taller now because you have to look up to meet his eyes. “I can’t believe I’m seeing you. It’s been a while.”

“You’re right,” you reply, chuckling a little to mask how tense you really are. “Would you like me to take you to your seat?”

“Oh no, I won’t be long,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “I just wanted to talk to the manager for a sec.”

You furrow your eyebrows, trying your best not to get distracted with the way his hair ruffles almost perfectly under his touch. “Is there something wrong?”

“No, just wanted to see the latest financial report.” He smiles, showcasing his teeth. “My grandfather owns this place, and I’m helping him take care of the business while he’s overseas.”

Fuck. “A-ah, is that so?” Meeting him once as a customer is already painfully awkward enough for you to bear, but actually working for him?!

“I won’t bother you, I promise,” Jaehyun immediately adds, “I wasn’t aware that you work here, actually. Has it been long since you started?”

“About two weeks.” You fidget on your feet, having the hardest time making eye contact with him. “And I’m not very good at this.”

“Wait, are you the one who keeps breaking plates?”

You wince. “Yes. Can you please not fire me? I’ll pay for them, I promise.”

And Jaehyun laughs, his deep voice booming into the air. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll pay for them myself if that’s what it takes to keep you around.” He says his lines so naturally that it surprises you both when the words finally sink in. “I—I mean,” he clears his throat, “It’s just really been a while since I last saw you so I thought we should really catch up on things. How are you?”

“I’m—”

“Boss,” your manager suddenly comes to interrupt, carrying some paper sheets in her arms. “These are the reports you wanted. I can e-mail you the rest if you need more details.” And when she sees you standing next to Jaehyun with the worst looking smile you’ve ever had on your face, she squints her eyes menacingly at you, “What did you do this time?”

“She didn’t do anything,” Jaehyun hastily answers before you can even form a word of protest. “She’s a dear friend of mine. It’s been a while since we talked, so do you mind if I borrow her for a while?”

Your manager seems utterly shocked and you kind of dance happily in your mind because she’s been kind of mean to you—though you were the one who gave her the reasons to be—and seeing her speechless, only able to mumble out a small, “S-sure,” before she trails away back to her office like this becomes the highlight of your day.

“Thank you,” you say to him, not sure why but it feels right.

“Let me know if she bullies you again,” he says, gently patting you on the head and you can feel his fingers slowly brush your bangs off your temple. It seems like he’s unaware of what he’s doing and you can understand why because that’s just his habit, even from the time when you hadn’t started dating yet. You remember the time when he said he liked your eyes—he thought they were beautiful, and hiding them under your bangs like that was a shame.

You take a step back, looking anywhere but his eyes. “Umm…”

“Right, sorry,” he fumbles with his hands, the tip of his ears growing red. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Can we just sit and talk?”

You smile, genuinely this time. He really hasn’t changed despite his appearance. “Sure.”

***

Jaehyun doesn’t visit the restaurant every day and you don’t really expect him to, but when he does, he always spares some time to talk to you privately—usually during your break time so your manager can stop throwing ice daggers from her eyes at you.

“I’ve tried to call you after graduation,” he confesses as he takes you out for some coffee at the nearest cafe. Your shift is over and you’re waiting for Haechan to pick you up but he’s running late because he has to take a quiz that he missed from skipping the class the previous week—you guess it had something to do with him pulling an all-nighter playing Overwatch again—and you told him to take his time.

“You did?”

“Yeah. Several times, actually, but I couldn’t get connected.”

“Maybe you called after I lost my phone,” you reply, taking a sip of your hot latte and wincing when it nearly scalds your tongue. “I had to change my number. I lost my contacts and everything.”

“That makes sense. Would it be okay if I ask for your numbers now?”

“Only for business purposes,” you tease, and he grins back, almost boyishly.

“Only for business purposes,” he confirms, “Just so I can give you a heads-up when I’m about to fire you.”

You gasp, half-amused, half-terrified. “Please tell me you’re joking.” And he only responds with another laugh. Talking with Jaehyun is easy and comforting, and he really listens to what you’re saying like a loving older brother taking care of his sister. It’s a nice change considering it’s always you who have to act like the mature one when having a conversation with Haechan—not that it isn’t good. It just can get quite tiring after some time.

Jaehyun is in the middle of walking you back to your workplace when he tells you stories about the things he did after graduation, and how he’s planning to continue with his study overseas to get a master’s degree in business management as soon as he’s done with his work here. You’re so entranced with his story that you barely notice your boyfriend waiting with his back pressed against the side of his car, eyes busy staring at his phone screen.

“Haechannie, you’re here!” You run to his spot, a grin spreading wide on your face before you lean up and kiss his cheek.“When did you get here?”

“Noonaaaaa,” he pouts, voice becoming whiny as usual. Compared to how he acts, he’s dressed maturely in a white shirt and a black leather jacket, his silver necklace hanging low on his neck. It takes you a good five seconds to ogle at his amazing looks while telling your heart not to get too excited. At least not until you get back at the dorm so you can rip that shirt off him with your own hands. “I’ve been calling you three times already. Where have you been?”

“You have?” You immediately check on your phone, noticing that yes, in fact, he did call you three times. You didn’t notice before because your phone was on silent. “I’m sorry, I forgot to switch it back after work. Did you wait long?”

“A bit,” he pushes his bottom lip out but it soon turns into a cheeky grin. “But nothing a kiss can’t fix.”

“Haechannie.” You pat him softly on his cheek. “We’ve got company.” And at that, he begins to widen his line of sight—because he usually just focuses on you and forgets his surroundings—and spots Jaehyun standing a few meters behind you with his hands buried deep within the pockets of his pants.

“Oh,” he comments, acting nonchalant though you notice by the slight raise of his eyebrow that he’s already annoyed by his presence. “Who are you?”

It’s kind of rude to suddenly ask for his name, especially in the cold tone Haechan is using and Jaehyun’s lips twitch at his words. “Jeong Jaehyun.”

“Well, Jeong Jaehyun,” Haechan says with mockery on his tone, straightening his posture and you wonder whether it’s because he feels slightly inferior to Jaehyun’s height. “My girlfriend and I would like some privacy from now on, so if you can just run along now, that’d be great.”

“Hey!” You slap his shoulder, gasping in disbelief before you turn around to face the other man. “I’m sorry, he can be quite rude sometimes but I’m sure he didn’t mean it.”

“Meant it with all my heart.”

“Be quiet.” And even Haechan can tell for his own good that he shouldn’t push your buttons further than that.

“It’s okay, I have to go anyway,” Jaehyun casually says, smiling angelically like how he always does though his eyes don’t really play along. “Your boyfriend is cute. How old are you? Does your mom know you’re still playing outside at this hour?”

Oh my God, not you too. You immediately grab Haechan’s hand to stop him before he flings himself forward and throws an arm toward the other man. You can see him clenching his jaw, almost baring his teeth when Jaehyun laughs quietly to himself, saying, “I’m just kidding. Have a good night, you two,” before he walks back to the restaurant, most likely to have another business talk with the manager.

“Who the fuck does he think he is?” Haechan blurts out, his eyebrows knitted together in annoyance. You stroke his arm, trying to soothe him down but what he does is relocating his glare on you instead, almost yelling, “Why were you with him?  How many times have you guys seen each other? And why on earth did you take his side?!”

You’re too tired to care, to be honest, let alone answering him. You’re also suffering from the cold of the night, wanting desperately to climb into Haechan’s car and put on the heater to warm yourself up. “I’ll explain on our way back,” you sniffle, squeezing his hand. “Can we get inside the car? Please? I’m freezing.”

You can tell he’s still very much upset but his gaze softens when he sees puffs of air flowing from your chapped lips and your nose turning red. He sighs into the air but opens the door for you. He doesn’t really talk until he has his engine started, and you can practically see steam coming out from his ears as he drives into the night.

“Have you had dinner yet?” You ask, trying to keep as casual as you can.

“No.”

“Should we order something—”

“I’m not hungry.”

“O… kay…” You hold yourself back from sighing too loud. He’s testing your patience again, but it’s fine, you’re the mature one. You can handle this. “We’ll just go straight back to my place then. I’m sure I can make you something. I think I still have some pasta with—”

“I think I’m just gonna go back to my room right after I drop you off.” His words don’t hurt as much as the tone he’s using. You’re trying to patch things up even though you’re sure you haven’t done anything wrong but he’s not even trying to apologize about how rude he acted earlier. You can’t help but snap, probably because your fatigue is taking its toll. You figure you can act mature any other time, but not today.

“Okay, what is wrong with you?” You can feel your voice rising and it forces him to sneaks a glance at you but only for a split second before he brings back his eyes on the road again. “I’ve been trying to be nice to you but you keep on acting like a brat—”

“Oh, of course, now you have a problem with me being a brat.” He grits his teeth, sinking his nails into the steering wheel. “I think we both know that’s pretty much how I act around you—around anyone, really—and if I remember it clearly, you said being a brat was part of my charm. That was, of course, before you met this oh-so-mature Jung fucking Jaehyun and suddenly, now, I’m fucking annoying.”

“I didn’t just meet him, Hyuck.” You exhale loudly, rolling your eyes. “I’ve been friends with him since high school.”

He clicks his tongue in aggravation, quietly adding, “Friends that fucked each other whenever your parents weren’t around, I’m sure.” And he probably didn’t mean his words to be heard because he just said them out of spite, but you did hear him and it makes your blood sparks in fury.

“Actually, yes,” you jeer back, “We did. He was the one who took my virginity away, just so you know and—WHOA!”

The sudden turn of the wheels makes you yelp and scramble to wrap your fingers tightly around your seatbelt as if you were hanging for dear life, and Haechan suddenly stomps his feet on the brakes, messily parking his car on the side of the street and earning a lot of angry car honks from the drivers behind him in return.

“What?!” He shouts, eyes wide, completely ignoring the passerby or the fact that you’re still trying to catch your breath. “You had sex with him?!”

“Once, Donghyuck, Jesus Christ!” You almost yank every strand of your hair out of your head. “Just once! And I never did that with anyone else until I met you!”

“I can’t believe you never told me this! And now you just hang around with him behind my back?!”

“What’s there to tell?! It’s in the past, way back when I didn’t even know your name. It’s not like you tell me things like this too. I don’t have problems with you sleeping with hundreds of girls before you met me.”

The sudden silence that surrounds you snap you back to reality and you regret everything you just said because you know you didn’t mean it. Well, it certainly has been bugging you for quite some time whenever you think about how easy and casual he’s always been when it comes to sex—not to mention how experienced he is—so you can’t help but wonder. You do understand that it’s not fair blurting about it to him like this, though. Especially not in this situation.

And the way he just suddenly becomes mute almost makes you shudder.

“Hyuck, I didn’t mean—”

“So that’s how you think of me?” He asks, voice low and deep. “Is that the reason why you’re seeing him? Because you don’t trust me?”

“Oh my God, Donghyuck,” you almost scream from all this frustration you’re venting out. “This is getting out of hand. Okay, first, that was wrong of me to say that and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any of it. And second, stop being so jealous—I was only out with him to get some coffee. We no longer have feelings for each other, I can assure you that.”

“Yeah,” he snorts, “Sure. Whatever.”

“Hyuck, he’s my boss! I was just being polite—”

“Well, that’s just fucking great, isn’t it? No wonder you keep insisting on taking this job. It’s not even about the money now, is it?” He slams his hand against the steering wheel, groaning out, “I’m so fucking stupid,” before he throws his head to the side, glaring at the scenery outside his window instead of you.

There’s silence hanging in the air again and you take a deep breath to calm yourself as much as you can because you know where this is going. You just hope you’re wrong. “Why does it sound like you’re accusing me of cheating on you?”

“Because maybe deep down, that’s what you’re doing?” He’s not even looking at you when he says it, but the bitterness in his voice is clear and it’s loud enough to finally tweak the final string of patience you have left in you.

So you grab your purse, carry your jacket in one arm and step down from the car. “I’m taking a cab,” you say and when he still doesn’t look at you, you add, “Come talk to me when you’re mature enough to have this conversation.”

And not knowing your own strength, you slam the door until his ears begin to ring.

***

It’s the worst fight you’ve ever had, not just with him but with anyone else too. You’re more the type that avoids situations like this—one that says sorry even when you know you’re not doing anything wrong just to reduce the tension, so this fight you’re having with Haechan has been ruining your mood for a whole damn week since day one. And the fact that he doesn’t come to apologize or even send a text or two is driving you insane.

You can’t help but to dwell in his way of thinking, trying to see whether it’s really your fault that this is happening. Yes, maybe you should’ve explained better, but he wasn’t really giving you the chance to do it, was he? And yes, maybe you should’ve told him about you hanging out with Jaehyun every now and then or the fact that he’s your boss but you just couldn’t find the right timing before. Well, it’s certainly too late to start now.

Should I call him…?

Because you miss him. You miss Haechan so badly. You miss his bratty smile, you miss his annoying whine, you miss his stupid dazzling smile, you miss his scent, his kiss, his embrace—everything about him. You didn’t realize how close he was to you—already becoming a big part of your life—and you just really notice it now when he’s completely out of your sight.

“Fuck this.” You’re in the middle of searching his name in your contacts and about to press dial when suddenly you get his message.

Can we meet tomorrow?

It’s really weird that a simple text can make your heart race and almost send you jumping in delight. Trying to keep your heart rate back to normal, you type back.

Of course. What time? Where?

You wait for his reply and it seems like the time suddenly slows down where seconds feel like hours. You nibble at your bottom lip, hesitating at first but sending it anyway.

I miss you, Haechannie.

Your heart starts hammering against your ribcage again. A lot of thoughts begin entering your mind at the same time, making you worry about what if he wants to meet me because he wants to break up with me? What if he doesn’t miss me and he’s grossed out with my text? What if—

His reply arrives with a slight ding coming from your phone, and with shaky hands, you open his text.

I’ll text you the time and place tomorrow morning.

There’s a disappointment that bubbles up inside your chest but the next text from him erases all of that almost instantly.

I miss you too, Noona. Good night.

And you think that maybe tonight, you can finally have a good sleep.

***

“Can you fill in for tonight?”

It’s the first thing your manager said to you the second you stepped inside the restaurant. You haven’t even taken your jacket yet, and it’s really rare to see your manager walking around the place on a Sunday morning but here she is, and she’s already ordering things around.

Your mouth suddenly feels dry. “Pardon?”

“There will be a banquet tonight for the Jeong family and we need every waiter we can get. I know you’re lousy at your job but Jaehyun-Sajangnim seems to like you so I hope you can stick longer for a few hours.”

“I…” You wet your lower lip anxiously. “I can’t. I already promised someone—”

“Look, this is not a request. It’s an order.” She seems like she’s running out of patience. “But I’ll pay handsomely for your time. I think you need the money to pay for those two plates you broke anyway. You know how expensive they are.”

You wince. “Yes, Ma’am.” It’s not like she’s leaving you with any other option. You figure you can call Haechan later during your break time. It’s still not confirmed anyway, your date with him. You’ll think of a way to make it up to him.

It’s only for a few hours anyway, right?

I’ll just text him now. You dip your hand into your purse, trying to find your iPhone as fast as you can. You run your fingers along the screen, typing letters with your thumbs.

Haechannie, something came up and I have to stay longer at work. I’ll see you later tonight at your place and we can talk then.

“What are you doing standing around like that?” Your manager suddenly shouts and you almost drop your phone in surprise. “Go and change your uniform now, we’re opening the place in ten minutes!”

“Y-yes, Ma’am!” You fumble with your steps, throwing your phone back into your purse in a hurry. You inwardly sigh. Today is going to be a long day.

I’m sorry, Haechannie.

***

“Great work today,” Jaehyun says when most of his family members have left the restaurant. You didn’t realize how big and wealthy his family was so it amazed you that one family could occupy the whole seatings they have in this place. There were more than thirty people in the room before and you had to change your high heels into a pair of flat shoes so you can run from one table to another while carrying several plates at once.

“Not really, I almost broke another plate today,” you respond with a sigh, which earns a low chuckle in return. Jaehyun has his back leaning against the wall just an arms reach away from the front door, waiting for you to finish shoving all your belongings into your bag before he curls his fingers around the doorknob and twists it open.

“Thanks,” you say, almost sheepishly because it looks weird, no matter how you see it—your boss is opening the door for you. “Stop being so nice, Jae, you’re making other staff jealous.”

“But I do this to all my staff,” Jaehyun snickers, following after your trail.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Hey,” he calls, placing his hand on your shoulder so you’ll stop on your track and turn around to face him. “Thank you.”

You raise your eyebrow questioningly. “For what?”

“For acting like how you normally do around me,” he explains, smiling a little bit bashfully. “For not being so awkward after our break-up.”

“Oh… Well…” You try to focus your gaze somewhere else, suddenly finding the  silver watch you wear around your wrist entertaining. “It’s been years since then, I think we both have moved on by now, right?”

There’s a thick tension growing between the two of you and you almost beg him to say something before it starts to suffocate you.

“Sure,” he says, but the pressure in his tone speaks otherwise. You look up to meet his eyes, expecting him to smile and bring another topic into the conversation, but all he does is just gazing at you with these gentle, almost longing eyes that make your heart stops for a split second.

You know this can’t go any further.

“Well, uhh,” Jaehyun clears his throat, running a hand through his hair, perhaps feeling rather embarrassed himself. “It’s already late. Do you want me to escort you back to your place?”

And you find it hard to form a sentence, still somewhat baffled from the way he’s acting around you, and you’re so unfocused that when another voice enters your hearing, it shocks you down to your spine.

“I’ll be taking her from here,” Haechan says, startling you both and you turn around so fast on your heel to face him that you almost stumble forward. Your boyfriend is standing with one hand carrying a black suit and another one digging inside the pocket of his pants, dressed nicely in a white buttoned up with sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He has the top two buttons of his shirt loosened, showing a glimpse of his collar bones and the silver necklace he usually hangs around his neck. His short brown hair is parted to the side, slightly pushed back to showcase his temple. You’ve never seen him dressed so sharp and elegantly before since the first day you met him and you can’t help but feel a little bit starstruck from the way he looks. But you soon realize that there must be a reason why he’s so dressed up and you feel terrible because you don’t know what it is.

What day is it today?

“Haechan—”

The way he grabs your hand shows how agitated he actually is despite the calm facade he places on his face, and it’s glaringly possessive the way he drags you to match his step on the way to his car but you follow him without a word, not even sparing a glance at Jaehyun who’s looking at him as if he just stole something important from him. Haechan opens the door to the passenger seat, and you climb in with your heart thrumming loud against your chest.

Haechan walks to the other side without making eye contact with Jaehyun but even at that point, your ex-boyfriend doesn’t dare to say a word or make a move, probably because he knows he has no right to do so. Haechan does not look angry and neither does he act like it but the quietness that fills the space between you, even when his car engine is blaring noisily outside, speaks louder than everything that he does.

“Umm.” You suddenly feel parched, your throat burning with every word you try to form. “T-thank you for picking me up.” You’re about to flinch from how terrible you just sounded. “I thought you were waiting at the dorm. Didn’t you get my text?”

It takes a few seconds that feel like forever for him to answer. “I don’t know, did you send me one?” He simply asks, voice flat and nonchalant, as he switches the gears of his car.

Did I not? You gulp in horror and begin to frantically search for your phone in your purse. Your heart almost leaps out from your chest when you see your phone is dead, probably ran out of battery sometimes during your hectic hours. You didn’t check on it before because you thought that Haechan most likely had seen your text and was waiting for you at the dorm, so you decided to just run in a hurry without texting him that your shift had ended. You were also busy talking with Jaehyun and felt it wouldn’t be polite for you to check on your phone while he was around.

But, as you connect your phone to your power bank, turning it on, and run your thumbs along the screen, you notice one thing: you didn’t send him anything.

“I’m—” A shiver runs down your spine. “I’m sure I texted you before—why—” You remember how your manager suddenly interrupted you when you were about to send the text. You must have forgotten to press send, and seeing how there are suddenly a lot of messages coming to your phone at once from him makes your heart drop to the floor.

I’ve made a reservation at Boccalino at 7 p.m. I know how you’ve always wanted to go there. Wear something nice.

Where are you now? Are you still at work? Do you want me to pick you up?

You’re probably busy at work. I’ll just see you at our table, okay? Don’t be late.

I haven’t heard from you. Where are you? I’m on my way to the restaurant to make sure our reservation is still on.

All my calls are going straight to voicemails. Where are you?

You’re an hour late. Where are you?!

You can feel the tremble in your fingertips as you hold your phone, your eyes running back and forth in horror. Haechan still doesn’t speak a word, focusing his eyes entirely on the road that lays in front of him.

“I’m… I’m sorry.” Even though you know you’re already so out of line and probably won’t be forgiven anytime soon, you still apologize because what else can you say? “I didn’t realize my phone was dead. And I was sure I’d texted you but—”

“It’s fine,” he says as he props his elbow against his window, rubbing the side of his temple with his fingertips. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

And with that, the conversation ends. Your thoughts are running fast, trying to come up with a better apology or find a way to patch things up but you can’t. The more plans you make, the more you hate yourself for being so stupid and ruin this whole thing for him. The drive back to your dorm is filled with nothing but silence, and you spend the entire time counting the street light that glows faintly on the side of the road.

You do notice something, though. Haechan’s phone keeps on making little sounds, notifying him that he’s receiving text messages and chats. There was also a phone call which he ignored even when the street light was red, only saying, “I’ll just call back later,” when you nervously ask him about it.

It’s when he walks you back to your dorm, that you begin to gain the courage to ask about it. “You’re getting awfully a lot of texts today.”

“They just want to congratulate me,” he says, tucking his hands in his pockets so you can’t take a hold of any of them as you walk beside him.

“On what?”

“My birthday.”

You wish the earth could just swallow you whole because how fucking ignorantly stupid can you be? It’s the sixth of June today, and you were so busy dealing with the fight and minding your own business that you forgot the birthday of the most important person in your life right now. You can feel how your legs almost give out under your weight, your head’s spinning.

And apparently, you’re doing it again, so lost in your own thoughts that Haechan has to say, “We’re here,” to snap you back to reality. You’re now standing gawkily in front of the door to your room, palms getting sweaty from how nervous you are. Haechan murmurs something about seeing you later and you’re about to burst into tears from how terrible you feel for him so you hastily grab him by his wrist, fingers almost sinking into his skin from how desperate you’re being.

“Stay with me,” you beg with quivers in your voice. “Please, just—I need to talk to you.”

Haechan stares at you with cold eyes, his jaw clenching slightly. But he doesn’t pull back his arm and follows your trail with heavy steps as you step inside your room. He closes the door behind him and leans his back against it, still not saying anything.

You’re so occupied with trying to form a coherent sentence that you forget to be thankful about how your roommate is away for the weekend again, providing you the opportunity to have the entire room for yourself. You decide to not make any excuses and apologize for every little dumb thing you’ve been doing for the whole day—no, for a whole week even, since the time your fight started. But no matter what you say, Haechan is staring at you with lifeless eyes, as if he’s just too tired to listen—as if he just no longer cares.

And that scares the life out of you.

“Hyuck, please,” you whisper, closing the distance between you until you can feel his warm breath caressing your cheek. You have your palm pressing against the side of his face, “Say something.” You know it’s not right, but you lean in for a kiss. It’s not just because you’re desperate to pull an emotion out of him; it’s more because you miss him so terribly so, it’s driving you crazy.

Haechan has his eyes closed by instinct but he doesn’t kiss back, only letting your lips linger on him, sharing his breath. And though it feels like there’s a javelin slowly sinking into your chest, you try again, kissing him with more passion, hooking your arm around his neck to pull him closer. Haechan tears himself away, his gaze turning dark as he stares at you and you look at him back with desperation in your eyes.

“Haecha—”

It’s like something snaps inside him and he suddenly no longer has control over his own free will, because Haechan is now pushing your body against the door, slamming your spine against the surface none too gently with his hands on each side of your head, lips chasing after yours. You let out a gasp, both from the shock and the pain that stings from the back of your head, and he takes the opportunity to kiss you deeper, tongue delving in to explore the inside of your mouth. His fingers trail down from your cheeks to your jaw, before they rest on the sides of your neck, his fingertips probing against your veins. You’re not sure whether he does it unconsciously from the sheer excitement or something else but the way his hand is holding you by the neck, his fingers low key choking you make your adrenaline runs faster.

He doesn’t give you the chance to process every single thing that’s happening, or even breathe, for that matter. The next thing you know, he already has his hands running down to your thighs, pulling them up so you have no other choice but to tangle your legs around his waist and groan when he presses your hips together. Hearing the sound of his name tumbling down your lips in a desperate, needy moan, Haechan groans at the back of his throat, his hands moving up to palm your breasts before they start to struggle with your shirt.

You’re doing the same thing, just as eager to get him out of his white shirt so you can latch your lips on his smooth sun-kissed skin. But unlike you who struggle to unbutton his shirt one by one, Haechan’s patience is wearing thin so he ends up just ripping your uniform, buttons clattering down to the floor.

“Wait, Hyuck—” You’re forced to swallow whatever it is you’re trying to say when Haechan sinks his teeth down to the skin that connects your neck to your shoulder, pushing the fabric of your shirt down to expose more of your bare skin. Your whole body shudders, clutching to him with every strength you have. It hurts, the way he bites and nibbles along your sensitive skin, but at the same time, it sends electricity down to every inch of your body.

“Do you have any idea how fucking pissed I am right now?” He says in a low, dangerous voice as he gnaws around your earlobe. “Turn around.”

With his nails sinking into your hips, he forces you to turn on your heel, pressing the side of your face against the door and tears your shirt away from your body. He doesn’t immediately take off your bra like he usually does, and instead focusing first on slipping his fingers underneath the band, thumbs glossing over your hardened nipples as he applies wet kisses on your nape. You almost let out a sob when his hand travels south, raking his fingers against your stomach before he takes off your skirt in such a hurry, leaving you in nothing but your black stockings and your laced panties.

Your entire body jolts when he slips a hand between your legs, rubbing you over your underwear before he suddenly pushes the fabric down and runs his fingertips along your folds.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he whispers in your ear, his breath fanning your neck. “I’m surprised you like being treated like this.” But when you cry out his name, begging for him to stop teasing you already, he chuckles lowly. “I should’ve done this sooner.”

You’re sure that you’re just reacting this way because it’s him and not anybody else and you want to tell him that but you can barely form a word with him rubbing his fingertips along your clit. “You’re actually quite dirty, aren’t you?” He brings two of his fingers to your lips, forcing you to suck them into your mouth and you oblige, knowing what he’s intending to do. You coat them with as much saliva as you can before he brings his hand down to your heat again, this time inserting one finger into your entrance with another one following soon after.

You hiss his name under your breath, becoming a little lightheaded from all this sensation you’re having at once. “What do you want me to do?” He asks tauntingly, knowing he’s in charge of everything.

“Fuck me,” you gasp, eyes tightly shut at the feeling of him finger fucking you to oblivion. “I want you inside me, Hyuck, fuck.”

“Maybe in a few minutes.” His teasing tone is back but it’s different. It’s almost menacing this time, somewhat heartless. He picks up the pace, pumping his fingers in and out of you until you find yourself biting your lip to contain your sob. “Do you know what I want?” He carves his words against your skin, taking a handful of your hair with his other free hand and yanking it back so you can’t help but face the ceiling. His lips are hovering dangerously close against your ear. “I want to fuck you raw. We’ve never done that before, have we? I want to come inside you—want to see my cum dripping down your thighs when I’m finished with you.”

Fuck. You almost cry from the temptation. “Then do it. I don’t care just—” You arch your back, sinking yourself down to his fingers, moaning against the side of his neck. “Please, just fuck me, Hyuck.”

“Good girl,” he replies and you can hear the smirk in his voice but you don’t care. He can be as cocky as he wants for the night because you secretly like it. You like how confident he is during sex, how passionate and sexy he can get, and how desperate and uncontrolled he becomes at the end. You can feel your stomach flip at the anticipation, especially when you hear him working on his belt, unbuttoning his pants and pulling them down only low enough for him to free himself.

“Let me fuck your mouth first,” he demands and you find yourself succumbing to his orders, turning around to face him before you drop to your knees, the tip of his cock protruding against your lips.

Haechan is still holding himself back, you’re sure, because he lets you take your own pace at first but his dominating persona comes back almost immediately when you only give him tentative licks against his slit. “Open up,” he orders, his fingers finding home in your hair and you loosen up your jaw to take him deeper.

Tears begin to form in the corner of your eyes from how hard he’s hitting the back of your throat but you try to keep up. He moves his hips, enjoying the warmth of your mouth. When you feel him twisting his fingers around the strands of your hair, you look up to see his expression. Haechan has his head thrown back in pleasure, his lips parted in a silent moan and you hum proudly to yourself when he brings his eyes down to meet yours. They’re glazed with lust and he’s so sexy like this with his breathing ragged, soft moans flowing like music to your ears. And he’s probably feeling the same about you, from the way he pushes the bangs out of your eyes, taking every detail of your face as you hollow your cheeks, swallowing when his taste falls upon your tongue.

“Fuck,” he hisses under his breath, “You look so perfect like this. You’re so fucking sexy, do you know that?” You hum, running your tongue along the prominent vein, giving kitten licks around the tip. Something gleams in his eyes and suddenly he commands you to stand up and pushes your body against the wall again, face first.

“Do you know how excited I was for today?” He grabs you by the waist, pushing his palm against your shoulder blades so you’ll bend lower, and positions himself against your entrance from behind. “I wanted to celebrate my birthday with you—just with you, Noona—even after our fight, I still wanted to spend it with you—”

“I know,” you gasp, thighs trembling when he rubs his tip against your folds. “I’m sorry—I was too busy with—“

“With work?” He taunts, “Or with that guy you’ve been seeing?”

“No—” A sudden yelp flows out of your mouth when he abruptly pushes himself entirely inside of you in one quick motion, his nails digging into the skin of your hips. Haechan moans a tad louder, much breathier, with his eyebrows knitted together in ecstasy. He’s more sensitive now since he’s not using a condom, directly feeling how wet and hot you are around him, how every clench makes him lose his mind and you can feel him twitching inside you. “Haechan—wait—”

He thrusts forward with such brute force, you find yourself pressed against the door. The dorm is quiet and with the way he’s slamming his hips against yours, the door making rhythmic banging noises against its frames, you’re sure you’re going to be noticed sooner or later.

“The bed—” You gasp, searching for the hands he has on your hips. “Let’s move to the bed—”

“Later,” he groans, his mind sinking in the way your heat is enveloping him.

“People can—” You have your eyes tightly shut when his thrusts get stronger. “They can hear us, Hyuck—”

He tangles his hand around your locks, making a messy ponytail out of them so he can yank on your hair as he rocks his hips faster. “I don’t fucking care,” he growls, “Let everyone know you’re mine.”

It feels fucking amazing the way he’s all breathless and rough, fucking you senselessly as if the world is ending, and it’s not long before your legs start to give up on you, quivering under the sensation.

“Fuck,” Haechan takes a sharp intake of breath, pulling you back against him when you’re about to fall. “Tired already, babe?” His chuckles are unfamiliar to your ears, as if he was mocking instead of teasing but you can’t really comment on it because he’s now pushing you down to the floor, forcing you to stay on all fours. “Now, now, what do we do?” He asks, spreading your thighs but holds your ass firmly in the air. “I’m just getting started.”

Every thrust of his hip feels like fire running all over your body and you can’t believe how good he is at hitting that particular spot deep inside you. You bite your lower lip to keep your voice down and Haechan notices it so he leans close, his chest pressing against your spine and you feel his lips and teeth caressing the crook of your neck as he speaks.

“Stop holding back your voice.” His voice sounds sultry, almost sinful to your ears. “I’ve told you before, right? I like hearing you say my name when we do this. Let me hear you moan.”

You shake your head. “I don’t want anyone to hear—“

“Well,” he doesn’t even let you finish. “I guess I’ll just have to force it out of you then.”

He slows down his pace, and instead of giving you fast, shallow thrusts, he focuses his strength on making each thrust hard and deep. You can feel your breathing being knocked out of your lungs, your toes curling in pleasure and if he keeps doing this, you know you’re not gonna last long. Your orgasm hits you so hard, a whimper falling from your mouth the way he likes it, and your body begins to shake.

Haechan laughs quietly against your ear. “You came, didn’t you? It feels so good—you feel so good around my cock.” He grabs you by the chin and roughly angles your head to face him. He kisses you hard, leaving you even more breathless than you already are before he says, “It’s my turn now.”

Haechan flips you to your back, spreading your legs wide as he sits on his knees, holding your ankles in the air like how he did the first time you had sex with him. Maybe it’s his favorite position, almost splitting your body in half, and seeing your face and your breasts bouncing up and down with every movement of his hips. You’re still dazed, reeling in the afterglow when Haechan pushes back into you again without warning, his eyes half-lidded in pleasure, his lips parted forming your name between his breathy moans.

“I’ll never get tired of how you look when I fuck you like this,” he says, smirking in the sexiest way you’ve ever seen him do. “You’re so goddamn irresistible, you know that?”

It’s frightening how different and rough he’s being right now, and you’re about to cry out because you miss him—you miss the way he used to be. The adorable, annoying little tease that he was. How can you bring him back?

“Haechannie,” you call out, voice soft and quiet almost in a whisper. “I love you.”

His movement stops almost immediately, his eyes widening in surprise. He locks his gaze back with yours, his grip on your legs becoming loose. “What?”

“I love you,” you repeat, placing your legs down so you can sit up from your position. Your back feels sore, screaming in pain but you try not to wince. You reach out to grab his face, running your thumb along his lower lip. “I love you, Lee Donghyuck.” You kiss him gently, merely pressing your lips against his and you can feel how his body stiffen under your touch. “So calm down, because I’m not going anywhere. I’ll always be with you, as long as you let me.”

Haechan is still very much speechless and you decide to take control. You carefully push him down so he can sit back on the floor before you climb into his lap. You kiss him again, tangling your fingers in his hair before you slide down, enveloping him once again. There’s a small moan escaping his lips, which you immediately capture with your own and his hands find their way back to your hips again.

“That’s not fair,” he says, his cheeks reddening slightly though he’s still scowling at you. “You’re just saying that so I won’t be angry with you anymore.”

“That too, but,” you’re interrupted by a moan that departs from your lips, can barely handle the way he twitches inside you. “I’ve been feeling that way for quite some time now. Especially when we fight. I just missed you so much, I couldn’t stand it.”

His pout is growing back on his face, though not as apparent. “Well, whose fault do you think is that?” It’s perfect, the way he moves inside you and it’s driving him crazy whenever you clench your walls around him.

“There’s nothing between me and Jaehyun, I promise you,” you softly murmur as you place open-mouthed kisses down his neck. “I’d never cheat on you, Hyuck. You know that, right?”

He shivers slightly under your touch, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “Still,” he breathes out, “It doesn’t mean I’m fine with you meeting him behind my back.”

“He’s my boss, I wouldn’t be able to avoid him even if I wanted—” You have to end your sentence short when he rubs his thumb against your clit, reeling in the sensation. “Hyuck, you’re going to make me come again at this rate.”

“Good, because I intend to make you come at least three times tonight.” He snickers against your lips. “So you won’t be able to forget who owns you.”

His movements become sloppy, going out of rhythm, even more desperate with each thrust and when you whisper with his earlobe between your teeth, “Happy birthday, baby,” he comes undone almost immediately with his face hiding between the slope of your neck.

He lays you down to the floor again, gently this time, before he hovers above you, his arms shaking slightly. “Holy shit,” he exhales, cheeks flushed and beads of sweat forming on his temple. “I think I came a lot inside you.”

“Glad I’m taking some pills then,” you reply, smiling a little as you cup his cheek, your thumb tracing the mole under his left eye. “You okay?”

“Are you okay?” He asks instead. “Was I too rough? Are you hurt somewhere?”

“Why is it that whenever we have sex, you end up asking me these questions?” You chuckle. “Yes, you were. And yes, I am hurt. My back is killing me.”

“I’m…” There’s a slight panic flitting across his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, it was kinda hot seeing you all riled up like that. It’s like you turned into a completely different person.” You pull him down by his necklace, murmuring against his lips, “I won’t mind if you fuck me like that again sometimes.”

It’s funny that after all of this that just happened, he actually blushes over your words. Quietly cursing under his breath, he leans back on his heels, slowly pulling out of you and stare intently at how his cum starts to seep out of you.

“Goddamn…” he mumbles, eyes unblinking as if he’s in a trance. “I really did come a lot inside you.”

“Consider that your birthday gift. Also, can you stop looking at me like that—it’s embarrassing.” You don’t usually get embarrassed about sexual stuff, especially now that your boyfriend’s shamelessness kind of rubs off on you, but Haechan really knows how to push your buttons.

Seeing you fidget out of shame, Haechan’s eyes twinkle, his lips forming a teasing grin. “No, wait, let me clean you up.” Despite what he says, he slowly pushes one finger into you, with another one following right after and you part your lips in a gasp but loss for words when you see him playing with his cum that’s mixed with yours, smearing it on the inside parts of your thigh.

“Haechannie,” you gasp, feeling his fingers inside you once again, with his thumb rubbing over your clit. “What are you doing?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” He grins, showcasing his perfect teeth. “I’m going to make you come again. And then you’re going to make me come again.” His face hovers above yours, wetting his bottom lip as he stares lustfully at you. “Since it’s my birthday and you’re obliged to do whatever I want.”

You gulp. You’re going to be so sore tomorrow.

***

[darkacademicfrom2021]

Away. So, so far away.

<<Previous part Masterlist

Alternative ending with Bucky>>

Alternative ending with Loki>>

Word count: 2,2K

Warnings: angst, incarceration, jealousy, alcohol, minor cursing.

5

Loki felt alone. In solitude, he thought of you more often than he would've liked to recognize. Magic was of no use for him to leave, but he was still able to conjure a few things. He kept going back to that picture you had hung on your apartment, hoping you'd be back and notice the picture was gone. Hoping you'd ask more questions to Thor, enough for him to lose his mind and tell you everything.

That picture took him back to the beach it was taken in. He remembers that moment so well, it's imprinted on his brain, tattooed so it'd never leave him. It was in one of the first missions you two went together.

He was in denial. He didn't want to be your friend, much less get close. You tried, you tried a lot, in different ways. You got him things that reminded you of him from other missions. You teased him, trying to match his sarcasm. You listened to him if he wanted to talk. He had started to care for you but he was still taken aback with all of those… feelings, he was cultivating. Mere seeds you were growing in his dried garden of a heart.

The mountain excursion was not a one-time thing. You did that with almost every mission, periodically searching for moments to steal and roam around the place. In that exact mission, you stole some nights on a nearby beach.

You went alone every night, and came back refreshed. Hair wet, shoes leaving a trail of sand through the hotel room, your blankets always uncomfortably sandy. Loki stayed in his bed, two individuals, reading the whole time. He didn't fall asleep until you were back. It was a dangerous place, and you left at night, after all. It was the least he could do, he thought with a sour taste on his tongue, like admitting he cared made him disgusted.

The second night you came with a handful of colorful and pointy shells, each one different from the other, picked carefully and thoughtfully. Most of them shined, or had golden lines, which very obviously reminded you of your asgardian roommate.

"They're for you", you stated excitedly, leaving them at his nightstand.

He remembers he scoffed and, without taking his eyes off the book, he said something among the lines of "you shouldn't bother being childish with me".

You didn't get mad over it. You were used to him being cold, at that time, where you were alright sharing a room and talking but he wouldn't actually talk. He was reserved, you'd say. You had a liking for quiet people, despite your explosive and loud self.

You kept the shells to yourself and didn't bring them up again. Except, the night that followed, you came back with more shells. Leaving them at his night stand, you didn't say anything and got your things ready to shower. He didn't take his eyes off the book and started saying,

"Again with that? I told you…", but as soon as he watched them, he went silent. You smirked.

"For Your non-childish Highness".

The shells were all black. All picked with especial detail to be the most pure form of black you could possibly find.

He still has those. Somewhere in the apartment he's not allowed to step into.

The last night of that mission, he joined you. You didn't even need to ask him, he just proposed to walk by your side to take some fresh air and stretch before bed. You walked around the beach, and even convinced him to dip his feet on the sea. If you would've been closer at the time, he was sure you'd thrown him fully clothed to the water.

That night he realized he could possibly care a lot more for you than he had initially thought.

He sighed, staring at the picture from his cell. Nobody was around yet. Too early —or too late. He missed you. He thought of leaving a note, and he even wrote it down many times. He is not so sure they got to you. It was part of the punishment and he had to be constantly reminded he couldn't be with you anymore.

He missed you so, so much.

"I'm so, so done with you!!", you yelled to the God of Thunder sitting across the room, just by the long bar of Stark's Tower. "You lying piece of shit, you damned…".

Thor flinched, and then frowned. It wasn't usual for you to lose your temper, much less to him. Bucky and Steve quickly grabbed you by the shoulders and told you to calm down in between whispers.

"Stark, get them a lemonade", hurried Steve.

"No, no. I want to watch this unfold", he laughed and Bucky gave him a dead glare.

"They's too drunk. This is unfair", he said, and Tony sighed.

"They doesn't get drunk".

"Damn fucking well I'm not. Get away from me, I'm trying to talk to this silent asshole over there. Come here, you fucking dipshit", you got rid of their grip and almost jumped to Thor's side.

"Very well, tiny avenger. What would you want…", he began, cheeks red from his own asgardian-sized drink.

"It's been an entire month and a week. Tell me everything you're not telling me", you demanded. He laughed obnoxiously. Loki, watching from the cell through the sphere, boiled in rage.

"Loki… is not worth your time, mortal. You should just get together with sergeant Barnes already", he spat like it was the obvious thing that should happen. Loki decided he'd stab him six—no, seven times as soon as he got to see him, with his sharpest and longest dagger.

"What on Earth do you mean by that?!".

"Calm, calm. The thing is, to save you some more pain, get over him because he's not coming back".

"What have you all done to him? I'll go get him myself".

"Don't be so imprudent. He's not coming back to you, that's for sure".

You insisted. And insisted. And Thor didn't wish his brother to look bad in your eyes, but in his opinion… he looked for it.

Thor was still extremely upset at Loki for going to Jötunheim looking for a throne he very obviously did not deserve, and then had the guts to call himself a rational man. Thor had been reprimanded by Loki himself as a careless oaf for waging war between realms a few years ago, but Loki had just done that —except he was even thirstier for power, and had more to lose.

To Thor, Loki looked for it, and you shouldn't suffer because of it.

So, he decided to lie. To save you some pain, and probably out of pity too.

"My brother took the chance and went for Jötunheim's throne", he said, and you scoffed.

"I knew that. I don't know why he isn't…", you began, and stopped as Thor raised his eyebrows. "I knew he did it after, okay? It's not like I could actually stop him. Now tell me what's next. Why hasn't he come home?".

"He… he got the same answer, that he needed the possibility of leaving an heir, so he…".

Loki watched with extreme attention. Thor wasn't going to actually say something like that, right? He knew his brother was upset, but… he wouldn't, right?

"So he what, Thor?".

"He just married a Jötun woman. She's with child. He has no intentions of coming back ever again".

Loki laughed, incredulous. You wouldn't believe that, would you? His heart was beating so fast he felt it burst open.

"He what? No, no. He didn't, you're lying".

"He did. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner".

"No… it's not true. It's not. He loves me, and I love him".

"He loves the throne even more".

You had to sit on the floor. Bucky ran to your side and you broke down in his arms. You cried so loud, Loki's chest felt like blowing up for sure this time.

He summoned an energy blast that broke every single furniture on his cell, accompanied with a scream that he was sure you would've heard from there if his cell wasn't silenced with blocking spells. He couldn't keep his anger for himself anymore.

He forgave Thor for many things. But now… He will never, ever in the almost four millennials they have left to live, forgive Thor for that.

On the roof of the compound, the sunsets were better, you always said.

You laid your back against the tiles and watched the sun with puffy eyes from last night. Loki was watching you with the half-broken sphere, and, lost in thought —much like you— didn't seem to notice James getting on the roof too. He rubbed your back comfortingly and you greeted him with a sad smile.

"Hey", he said. He spoke like you'd break down again. "How are you feeling?".

"I'm sorry about yesterday", you hurried. "I was very drunk. I don't have filters and get all intense and emotional when I drink too much".

"Don't apologize, you were right to feel that way. Loki's an asshole".

Both you and Loki flinched at that. Loki, because the damn soldier was right. To your eyes, Loki was now an asshole.

"I don't feel like I should believe Thor", you mumbled. "But Thor has never lied to me".

"It sounds crazy, I know… you were such a couple. I don't think I've ever seen that guy smile if it wasn't with you", he said, and placed a hand over yours. You let him. Loki sighed.

"I just… I can't imagine him being like that. I know he's done bad things in the past. I know his whole history with betrayal. But he's different now. I want to believe he's changed".

"Because of you?", Bucky raised his eyebrows, and you chuckled in embarrassment, nodding and putting your lips in a tight line. "Don't get me wrong, you're great. You're… wonderful. But…".

"But nothing is the direct cause of someone changing. I know. I didn't mean to sound so egocentric".

"I know. But I meant it when I said you're wonderful. That's what I've been saying all this time. You don't deserve to be stepped on like this".

Loki could feel his heartbeat race. He knew what followed now. You'd soon forget him and fall in love with the sexy supersoldier that held your hand and complimented you and treated you like the world you were, because Loki wasn't there and Loki hurt you enough to be vulnerable to everyone's eyes.

Loki was sure you hated him now.

"It's just that… I love him so much, I feel my heart shrink a little each day".

Bucky sighed, and hugged you with only one arm —the warm one. You put your head on his shoulder. He kissed your forehead.

"You'll be fine, sweetheart. I promise".

Loki stopped keeping count of how long he's been locked up. Between the time differences in Asgard and Midgard, and the fact that he had no other way to tell than to scratching a fucking wall every day, he's not so sure how long it's been.

He doesn't have the sphere anymore. He hasn't had it for a long time, now. It felt long. He isn't sure how long. His mother found it missing and went to him. His mother wasn't upset. She knew why he took it. Why he needed it.

Loki isn't sure if it's been a few months, a year or if you're already buried deep inside a grave. He shudders and flinches at the thought. But it would've happened with or without him. After all, you're a mortal. Or were.

"Loki, my son", called Frigga. He was still laying on the bed, staring at the roof. She was carrying a handful of books.

He looked up and scanned her. She was dressed up.

"The Ball", he stated, and his heart weighed even more. The Ball happened, for Earth's chronology, every ten years. He now knows, he's been locked up for five. "I assume you're planning on keeping me here for at least another… three days", he said, looking at the books.

"Loki", she warned. How could he sass her even in his current position? She thought.

"That's all you've been saying. You come here, and look at me disappointedly, and call my name with its various pet names. I beg you to stop pretending you don't know what to say. If you're biting your tongue, free it, or bite it enough to draw blood".

"It's already bleeding, Loki", she frowned, tossing his books through the walls of the cell. "I have many things I'd like to say to you. I don't think it's wise anymore".

"When am I getting out?".

"You're not getting out any time soon, son".

"I know that. I'm asking when exactly. A decade? A hundred? A millenia?", she sighed, and Loki raised his voice, "TELL ME!!".

Loki hadn't had enough time. If he were to ever see you again, he had to get out right now. And even then he was sure you'd never receive him back again.

"Now, watch your tone, boy".

Loki growled animalistically, and tossed himself back to bed.

"Leave".

His mother left. She came back a few weeks later, only to find an empty cell.

(Taglist: @lucywrites02 , @louieboo87 , @the-departed-potato , @jesuswasnotawhiteman , @idontknow296 , @beksib , @spythoschei , @geekwritersworld , @whatafuckingdumbass , @mysticunicorn7 @shadowolf993 , @joscelyn02 , @t00-pi , @selfship-mishaps , @sallymagnoliaposts , @deadgirl88 , @enderslove, @theonewiththenerds, @vicmc624 )

[oftenderweapons]

The Studio - Namjoon

Pairing: Namjoon x reader (nicknamed Vixen)

Wordcount: 9.7k words

Genre: smut, angst, fluff

Rating: 18+

I told you I’d be back really soon ;) Tonight there’s a lot on schedule! I’ve been working on this piece for two weeks, since it carries a lot for both Namjoon and Vixen, emotionally speaking. It means a lot for me too, since to me it was truly a challenge in terms of the different levels of knowledge that Joon, y/n and the narrator hold. I think I’ve grown a lot in terms of writing even from Tiktok Towel Trick, which I wrote last May, but I’m really proud of myself comparing to what I used to produce a couple years ago.

Now, let me introduce this fic. The piece takes place two or three months after the two have started sleeping together (ideally late January or February). In this piece Vixen visits Joon at the studio after a bad fight and Joon’s self-imposed isolation. The two feel like they’ve come to a dead-end as they wait for the other person to cut ties. Namjoon is suffocated by his job, his tendency to lash out at his closest ones when he’s stressed and his previous traumas; Vixen is locked in her head, shut out by Namjoon and repeatedly accused of infidelity, as a sign of Namjoon’s lack of trust. Will the two manage to work things out?

Description and trigger warnings: The piece was written referring to Namjoon’s Rkive as in his vlive log. There is ANGST. Loads. There is some crying and it is not Vixen’s. Longing and miscommunication. In terms of filth: so much dirty talking the walls exude holy water by now. Unprotected sex (STAY SAFE GUYS!!!!!!!!), DDLG/daddy kink, Masturbation paired up with Voyeurism and Exhibitionism, Fetishism (Shoes, tights and lingerie), Oral (female receiving), Cumplay (eating), Marking, Spanking, Angsty doggy fucking followed by a very soft ride on the sofa. That should be all. Fluff alarm: Namjoon doesn’t want to lose his little fox and Vixen just wants to cuddle her big teddy bear Joon. 

Wordcount: 9.7k

Here is my masterlist

Enjoy!!! 

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

Standing in the main corridor of the studios felt very strange. You looked around, uncomfortable, while the receptionist at your side stared at you, waiting. "Don't worry, he's busy all the time. We can wait, no big deal." The fact that you'd been greeted by Namjoon's driver at the entry desk had helped you get to the studios unannounced. "That boy always gets caught up on something. He shouldn't make you wait." He tutted, looking at you with a kind smile. 

"____? What are you doing here?" Taehyung smiled at you brightly, close behind him Hoseok and Yoongi approached with heavy-looking bags on them. 

"Oh, hi. I sort of stopped by for Namjoon." You bit your lip, smiling embarrassedly. 

"He's still in his room. I can show you the way." Taehyung said, grinning. 

Yoongi seemed to be observing him closely while Hoseok looked absolutely oblivious. 

"No, I only have to give him this." You showed them two small bags, one containing food and the other a few things he had left at your place. 

You tried not to let your heartbreak show. 

"Maybe you could bring them to him, I don't want to distract him." 

You smiled but you felt the tears welling up. 

Yoongi's glance moved to you. It felt scorching. "I think you should bring those to him. I think he'd like to see you." His serious tone made you realise that maybe he did know what was happening. Maybe he did know better. 

"I think he'd rather not see me right now." Your lips tightened in a thin line. 

Both the guys turned to Yoongi. "Go, I'll see you tomorrow."

They both patted him on the shoulder and waved at you, Taehyung hugging you close. "It'll be alright. I'll see you."

Taehyung smiled at you, his cute cheeks popping upwards. Maybe it had to do with the fact that you had just granted him an exclusive piece by one of his favourite photographers. Maybe he was just friendly, maybe he simply liked you because he deemed you a decent human being. 

Right at his heels, Hoseok gave you a cute wave, saying bye-bye in a cartoonish voice. 

Beside you, Yoongi shook his head, still sporting a fond smile. "Uhm, I never know whether I should introduce myself. Anyway, we've never met before, so– I'm Yoongi. " He said with a tiny smile, his cheeks jumping upwards. 

You introduced yourself with a small bow. 

"You are just like he described you. He talks about you a lot." He commented. You blushed, almost feeling like dissolving into thin air. You never thought you would meet his friends like this. 

Yoongi looked at your face. "You're exactly his type — in the best way possible." He blushed. "Let's go." He said, leading you. "I actually want to say a few things." He threw his bag on the floor, getting comfortable on the sofa in the common room. "How are you doing?" 

You stared at your feet. "Decent enough."

"I'll be honest, ____. He hasn't been doing good. Not even decent, in my opinion." Yoongi announced, as if trying to prepare you for what you were going to see. "I feel like telling you a couple things about him. He can be hot-headed, and an absolute pain in the ass. He is a perfectionist, and a terrifically clumsy one at that." Yoongi huffed out. "He holds himself to extremely high standards and punishes himself whenever he feels like he's not delivering. And he has the horrible tendency to lash out when he's stressed. He just takes it all out on those who are closest to him." Yoongi patted the spot at his side, inviting you to sit. "I'll be inappropriate, maybe, but I have to say it. You don't have to stay at his side."

The sentence was like a slap to your face. It had never come to your mind to part ways with him. 

"You don't have to put yourself through his tempers and tantrums. You need to be ready to handle those emotionally. If you aren't, I don't think you'll be able to go for the long run." Yoongi looked at you in the eye. "Sorry if I overstepped, usually people come to me to talk, I'm not used to giving unsolicited advice." He blushed and laced his fingers together, laying them on his thighs. 

"I don't want to let go of him, Yoongi." You confessed. 

"Then you should go bring this stuff to him in person. And remember, you don't have to be his therapist. If you want, you can be his partner, walk by his side, but it's not your duty to carry him." The man was incredibly smart and thoughtful. And sensitive. The more you got to know him, the more you understood Namjoon's adoration for him. 

"Thank you so much." You bowed your head briefly, placing your palm on top of his hands. 

He moved one on top of yours, patting gently. "Let's go find your grumpy bear, uh?" 

With a groaned "aigoo" He pushed himself up, standing on his feet like an old man before bending to catch the strap of his bag. "This way." 

He led you through the winding corridors until you recognised the door to Namjoon's studio. "Go on. Knock politely and be smart. Discuss. Negotiate. Compromise. And be kind to each other." He gave you the official salute and left. 

You found yourself staring at the door, wondering if he'd roar at you for interrupting him. 

The room sounded quiet. 

You counted to three. Knocked. 

"Come in." Said his voice with a weak rumble. He was probably distracted. 

His studio was warm and welcoming, if a bit clustered. The lights were low and yellowy, coming from his desk and contrasting with the white gleam of his computer screen, still you could see everything perfectly in the slight penumbra, your eyes perusing your surroundings. It was easy to see why his apartment felt like a hotel room: he barely spent time there while this place really felt like home. It felt like stepping into his soul. Small sculptures and toys and collectibles were neatly lined in his bookcase together with some books. Then the baby shoes. Art catalogues. Candles. Art. A drape too big for the wall, but still there, a painting, probably from Yoongi, since you vaguely recognised his style. On the back wall, you noticed two drapes embroidered in traditional patterns. The floor was covered in thick cream carpets with geometric prints that reminded you of tribal symbols. And sweet lord, that was his wooden, swoon-worthy, customised low table, matching with the piece by the door holding one of his bonsai. A comfy couch with a fluffy, warm blanket, and embroidered pillows. You were mesmerised. You didn't have time to take it all in, your glance running from the upright piano to the microphone standing beside his chair. He didn't turn around, he kept staring at the screen, typing every now and then. His beautiful desk was crowded with stationery, electronic devices, a keyboard and all kinds of knicknacks. 

"What is– oh. Hi." His expression was ice-cold. 

"Hi. I was passing by, I wanted to bring you some stuff you'd left at mine."

His heart froze. This is the end then.

He'd been avoiding it for almost two weeks, hiding from you in his studio, even though the only things he could write were heartbreaking blue rhymes that had Jimin and Jeongguk exchanging pitying glances. 

The beginning of this tragedy was almost comedic in its stupid futility. It was just him incapable of perfecting a pre-chorus. A dumb verse or something. He had called you, talked it out but apparently all he did was just turn down your ideas and suggestions, snapping at you until you exhaustedly told him that you were tired and needed some sleep. He took that as you umpteenth sign that you didn't care about him — which you both knew was entirely wrong — and caused a huge fight which ended on you telling him to go fuck himself, at which he unceremoniously replied that he was okay with that since you were clearly already fucking someone else. 

You didn't bother correcting him, since no matter how many times you told him, he always seemed to get back at you being unfaithful and uncaring. You were done justifying yourself, apologising for things you had never done. 

"Uhm. I also brought you some food. I didn't know if you had already eaten."

He looked at you like you had finally lit a candle in a dark and cold room. 

Your heart broke some more. You asked yourself if there was any more breaking to do, at this point. 

You figured there was the moment you heard his hoarse voice speak. "Let's eat together."

You didn't have the guts to deny him. 

You laid the bags on the small table and took off your coat. He stood on his feet immediately, crossing the room in a few broad steps and hugging you to his chest. 

Let it hurt. You told yourself. It heals faster like that. 

His palms settled at your waist and his eyes closed. He breathed you in. He had never felt something really end. His exes were like a song slowly slipping into a diminuendo until they became silence. His interest burned out, his curiosity simply died down and the feelings never seemed to grow fully. They felt like a balloon which was never supposed to be blown that big. This thing with you was like a song being stopped mid-chorus, silence biting in where it wasn't supposed to be. Is this what the end feels like? He asked himself as he held you tighter, one of his hands climbing up and burrowing into your hair. He pressed your face into his chest, where his heartbeat was so strong and so loud that you asked yourself if you could somehow amplify it, if your body could register it and replay it once you were alone in your bed, mourning over this. "You feel taller." He said, noticing how your forehead reached his lips instead of slotting under his jaw. 

"I still have my heels on." You replied. 

"Wanna take 'em off?" He asked. 

You shook your head. "No, if that's not a problem. 

He breathed out heavily. He interpreted your refusal as a sign that first, you were keeping your tough-woman shield up — which he couldn't blame you — and second, you weren't intending to stay long. 

You tried to part yourself from him. "One more second, little Vixen. Just a second." He whispered. 

You allowed him. 

"Come on, dinner is getting cold." You said softly. 

He didn't let you go, he simply loosened his grip and dragged you to the sofa. He was willing to keep you as close as he could until you ripped the bandaid off, unraveling this small spell that had turned his life into a perfect, dreamlike snowball. 

Sitting on the sofa, he made you sit beside him, your side sticking to his from shoulder to hip to knee to ankle. 

It was all too much but you didn't have the strength to part from him. He bent down and opened the small boxes. 

It was fried chicken. 

Like the first time at his place, at two am, naked in his bed after he had owned you in every way that mattered. 

He loved fried chicken. And now it would always mean you to him. 

No chimaek after fucking with anyone else. He wanted to keep it for you, in case one day you decided to come back, and he would say he had never done that with anyone else, that he had been waiting for you. Because some part of him told him that you would come back. 

Both your brains were going on the same path, already mourning someone who was right there in that moment, but already felt so far away. The room was quiet but both your minds were screaming, thinking so loud that the silence was welcome. 

"I got you fried chicken. I know you love it." 

I love you, his brain replied. But his mouth stayed silent. It was too late anyway. 

"Thank you." He said brusquely. He reprimanded himself for sounding so harsh. 

"It's okay." You said quietly, using the lid to grab a couple pieces out of the ten or so. You didn't feel like eating and he always ate two thirds of the box anyway. 

He exchanged one of your wings for a leg. "You prefer the leg." He said with a shy smile, trying to make up for the coldness he had shown previously. 

You had been sleeping with Namjoon for three months now, spending all your spare time together at his place, sometimes moving in for the weekend, the both of you leaving your job early so you could spend Friday afternoon together and go on small dates. He usually had his schedule on Saturdays and Sundays too, so it wasn't uncommon for you to spend several hours alone at his place. You had made small improvements, making his house feel more like a home with small handmade crafts. And when he came back, you would usually try to keep it chill but eventually you ended up in bed, or on the sofa, or the kitchen counter. Or the carpet on the corridor leading to his bedroom. Or the shower. Let's just say that you would be all over each other. 

You thought how different it would be now, and how difficult it would be to get him out of your system. 

"How is it going." You asked quietly after you swallowed your first bite. 

"Tough. I'm polishing some stuff, but this is the part where I doubt everything and want to rewrite all of it." He explained, his fingers gripping the chicken with a precision and finesse that reminded you of his delicate, careful side. 

"You'll get through it. You're a pro by now. And I'm sure you have excellent taste. You know what you want and you'll find your way to it." You praised him, rubbing your shoulder against him since your fingers were dirty. 

He leaned his head on your shoulder, shrinking down to reach you. "Thank you."

The more time passed, the more you realised he still hadn't said sorry for what he had implied during that phone call. 

"That's okay."

"How have you been doing?" He asked, trying not to let his worry show. It still showed, though. 

You decided on being honest. "I've been missing you."

He paused eating. "I've been missing you too." He put down the chicken, using the ball of his wrists to press against his temples. "I'm sorry about what I said that day. I know my past relationships and nerves are not valid excuses for how I treated you, but I got swallowed in those and I dragged you in."

You looked at the leg and finished munching on it, stripping the bone of the last few strings of meat. You put down the naked bone, licking your fingers. "You never talked about your most recent ex." You commented. 

He picked up his head. "To put it simply, I was her side piece." He said, plainly. "She was getting married to someone else. And she messed around with me." He looked at his feet. "At the beginning I didn't know. It lasted around eight months, as she was waiting for her fiancé to finish his military service. After I discovered it, we kept going for a couple weeks, but I found the whole thing so upsetting and disgusting that we parted ways. Her fiance forgave her and they got married a while ago, a few weeks before I met you." He snickered sarcastically. "I even sent them flowers." 

You blinked distractedly. "Joon, I'm so sorry, baby." You brushed your forehead against his arm. 

"It's cool. I mean, it's not since I'm still traumatised by it. I've been talking about it with my analyst, but it's been a while since I last went, almost three weeks, because this project had been swallowing me whole — after chewing me a little, clearly." He had his exhausted laugh on. 

You felt like you needed to talk about the whole story about that girl, but right now he didn't seem in the right mindset to do that. For now, knowing that he knew he had a bias and he was tackling the issue with a therapist was enough.

"Have you been sleeping, babe?" All the breaking up was momentarily suspended. There was something to save here. You had a lot you still wanted to save from this. 

He seemed relieved when you called him that. Don't get your hopes up. He shook his head. "A couple hours at a time. Small naps when I'm tired."

"Okay, so once you're done eating, we're gonna take a good, long nap."

He didn't want to sleep though. He wanted to hold you close, kiss you, make sure that he did everything he could to make you stay. The meal continued quietly, and as soon as you were fed he asked you about your job, how it was going, if you had any new clients or if you had met any new artists. You replied to each question fully, telling him about curious accidents and little inconveniences. 

And he listened. He had missed your voice and it felt good to listen to someone who wasn't himself or the boys' voices over speakers and headphones. 

As you were both done with dinner, he guided you to the bathroom, standing behind you as you washed your hands. He took some soap, foaming it up between his hands before he caught your left palm within his, pressing and rubbing them together to clean you up. And then he laced his fingers with yours, lathering your digits in bubbles and making sure that the sticky sauce from the chicken disappeared completely. He moved to the other hand as you laid your head against his chest at his collarbone, tipping it back so you could stare at him. You were sure you had never adored someone this much. He turned slightly to look at you, smiling softly. He bent down and pressed his lips to yours gently. No man, no person in the world had ever touched you or kissed you like he has. No one has ever talked to you like him, showed you their world like he has. He reluctantly parted from your lips. 

He led your joined hands to close the tap, moving to the hand dryer. It felt all too intimate. 

"Joon." 

"Let's get back to my studio, yeah?" He whispered in your ear. You nodded. 

He laced his hand with yours. 

Once you reached the studio, he quietly dragged you to the sofa, pulling at your arm so that you fell with your ass on his lap. He hugged you again. "I am so sorry about what I said. You have told me countless times that I'm the only one."

"You hurt me, Namjoon." You said quietly. 

It felt like a slap, his full name. 

"Let me make it right." He kissed your cheek and your eyes fell shut. "I want you."

And you wanted him too. You thought yourself crazy for wanting a man so complicated, someone who had disrespected you, who had repeatedly and blatantly demonstrated his lack of trust towards you. Still, when you needed reassurance, affection and devotion, your bodies always came into play, talking with a language so simple and obvious to each other that you simply nodded, whispering "I want you too."

With his index finger he turned your head, kissing you square on the lips and forcing you to part them, his tongue sweeping in your mouth, making your head spin with the intimacy and intensity of it all. 

Let him take you, if that would reassure him that you only thought about him, you wanted only him and no one else. 

His free hand curled around your thigh, climbing up under the tight knee-length dress you were wearing. The woolen grey number was the first thing to come off as he tugged it over your head and off his way. "You're so gorgeous," He murmured painfully, looking at you and taking in every small detail. "A work of art, little Vixen." He kissed your shoulder. 

You smiled shyly, trying to straddle his waist. He toyed with the lace covering your breasts and nipples, teasing them with his fingers until they pressed hard against the fabric. Next he fooled around with the waistband of your tights, making you stand between his legs as he dragged the nylon down your thighs and calves. He stared at your feet, where the garment bunched up, noticing your black stilettos. "Off." He whispered, tapping his foot against yours. Once you took off the shoes, he bent down to help your feet out of your tights. He bit your leg harshly, leaving a mark behind. "Heels on again, Vixen."

Smiling darkly, you slipped them back on, shivering a little, but so happy to wear your favourite black lace set and stilettos for him. 

"Walk for me?" He asked, making you put on a little show. 

And God, did you enjoy it. His jaw went slack at the Brazilian cut of your panties, exposing to his hungry eyes the perfect curve of your ass, the way it swelled fully before meeting with the back of your thigh. 

That was his favourite place to bite. And spank. 

You did a small catwalk with your back to him, reaching his chair, which you turned around from his desk to the sofa. Facing the chair, you bent forward, your thumbs catching the fabric of your panties at your sides and pushing them down as you bent forward, offering him the whole panorama. 

He groaned. "I'm gonna get an heart attack, baby." 

You smiled at him viciously over your shoulder, letting your lower piece of underwear fall to the floor. Next you dragged your full palm up the curve of your ass, smacking it playfully as your fingers made their way to the clasp of your bra. 

"You're gonna kill me, Vixen." He cried out. 

Bra undone, you let both strings fall down your shoulders, removing one side first and letting the garment dangle from the other side, making your arm fall and drop the delicate lace ordeal. 

Your smile disappeared in an innocent pout when you turned around, completely naked except for your shoes. 

"I'm gonna sit here." You announced, waiting for his approval. 

He nodded eagerly. "Make yourself comfy, Vixen."

You sat down, crossing your legs and propping your elbows on your knees. Shyness was not a word in your vocabulary in that moment. Your only intention was that of distracting him from whatever it was that was mauling his brain. 

"Are you going to make me wait, Joon." You teased demandingly. 

He stared at you, meeting your glance. "Stay there and sit still." He ordered before grabbing the hem of his sweater and pushing it upwards, taking off both sweater and undershirt in the process. His upper body appeared, a bit skinnier than two weeks ago but maybe it was just the distance and the slouching position. His sweatpants were taut around his lap and you bit your lip as your eyes traced the outline of his length. He laid his palm there, stroking himself over the cotton. "Missed you so much, baby." He groaned and huffed. His eyes closed, his hand grew tense, stronger and heavier. Licking your lips, you kept staring at him, squeezing your thighs as he touched himself for you. 

He was hot, all the time, but this… This felt like a fever dream. You were soaked. Thank god his chair was leather and it could be cleaned easily.

He moaned your name, his eyes struggling to open enough to look at you. His voice was so deep and needy, mixed with heavy huffs. "Namjoon." You whined. 

He opened his eyes fully, his hand coming to a halt. It was like a cold shower. He was reminded why you were doing this, why you had come to this, the sudden distance that had come within the two of you. "What is it, baby?" 

You pushed your ass against the chair, looking for friction. "Come here. Touch me." You begged. 

It pained him seeing you so needy and whiny and stressed. "Listen to me, baby thing. Listen very carefully." He wanted to reassure you but he couldn't come to you. "I need you to touch yourself, little one. Can you do that for me? I promise I'll touch you after you cum, baby, but I want to see you first." He asked, palming himself again. 

You licked your lips. "Can I?" You questioned innocently, placing your palm on your thigh, your fingertips grazing your crotch. 

"You can, doll. Do it for me." He growled, pushing his fingers under his waistband, grabbing his hard on at the base and stroking it as you parted your legs, exposing your wetness. You were beautiful, naked on his chair, dragging your middle finger along your dripping slit. Your other hand grabbed your breast. 

"You're a vision, Vixen. You're magnificent, pretty thing."

"I want your tongue, daddy." You mewled, your finger dipping inside, emerging covered in glossy wetness. 

He groaned, taking his cock out of his pants, moving the waistband to his thighs. “I’m gonna eat you later, pretty doll. I’ve been starving for weeks for that sweet cunt of yours.” His erection immediately sprung up, arching to his belly button, the lower tendon looking so inviting along that thick vein that always had him throwing his head back whenever you traced it with the tip of your front teeth. As your fingers met your clit, eliciting a whine from your throat, he used four fingers to press on the vein, his thumb already playing with the tip. His hands always looked incredible whenever he used them on himself, strong fingers and spidery tendons making the vision sinfully erotic. However, he was lost in you as much as you were lost in him, his lips parted, his breath panting while you opened your legs wider, using two fingers in small upward circles that teased the underside of your clit. You felt a chill run down your spine, your legs trembling and closing a little with an involuntary reflex. You giggled at that, closing your eyes and moving your grip to the armrest of the chair. Your upper body inched forward a little and your hand stopped. 

“Too much, babygirl?” He asked and you smiled brightly, nodding. 

You’re gonna miss it, the way she smiles when you’re doing it right, his brain reminded him and as a way to shut it up, he stroked himself faster, with more pressure, his spare hand brushing his abdomen and moving upwards, spreading over his pectoral, scratching the skin there before his thumb and forefinger curved around the base of his neck, pressing there. 

You observed the motion, unpausing the movement between your thighs and humming as he gave you his desperate stare, the one that meant that he couldn’t take it anymore, that he was on the verge of it and even the smallest addition to the current situation would have him screaming and cumming.

“Joonie, lemme get close. Cum in my mouth, Joon, please.” You whined. 

“No, naughty girl. Stay there and cum for daddy.” He groaned. “Come on, baby, I’m waiting for you.” He said, with a harsh and strained command. 

Arching your neck, you started moving faster, opening your legs as far as the armrests allowed, but they only allowed an inch more than what you already had. Huffing with disappointment, you closed them and propped the back of your right knee on top of the armrest and repeated the gesture with your left leg, spreading yourself wide, almost hitting a split with your legs bent at the knees. 

“God, you’re the dirtiest. You stretching it out for me? You’re so good, showing daddy how wet you are for him.” He teased, using that raspy voice that he knew always drives you insane. 

With short, quick breaths you brought yourself closer and closer to the edge. “Daddy, please, keep talking to me.”

His hand slowed down. “Need to hear my voice, babygirl?”

You nodded and he snickered. “Then I’ll talk to you, little one. You know what I’m gonna do after you cum? I’m gonna crawl to you and kneel between those wondrous legs of yours. I’m gonna push your ass to the edge of the seat and feast on you like I’m trying to die eating that pussy. And do you know what you’re gonna do, Vixen?” He provoked. 

You shook your head. “What am I going to do, daddy?” You questioned innocently, your words stumbling a few times as your breath got stuck somewhere in your throat.

“Oh, little fox, you’re gonna grab my hair and push that lovely cunt on my lips and tongue, fucking my face so hard and fast, pressing your sexy heels on my naked shoulders. I want to hear you gasp for air because I make you cum so good you forget to breathe, you forget how to speak.”

“Joon, I’m cumming.” You cried out, your legs starting to quiver and your clit getting too sensitive to stand the movement of your fingers, slipping them inside and pushing them in slow circles around your cervix. 

His fingers moved back to the tip, the other hand massaging his balls. “Take it, Vixen, that’s it baby. I’m cumming, ____.” He moaned your name, spilling his release on his lower stomach. 

You were still staring at each other with your chests heaving, eyes wild, hands stained by your pleasure. It was always the two of you. Always getting caught up in each other, always getting tangled in each other's fantasies with this constant lust pulling you in and never having enough. You wondered when the hunger would stop, when you would grow tired of his insecurity and possessiveness, when he would find out you're too kinky, too needy, too fucked up for a busy man like him to handle. 

He cleaned his hand with one of the unused paper towels from dinner, crumbling it and throwing it in the box with the garbage from dinner. 

"Joonie." You whispered, waiting. 

"Coming, baby fox." He replied, standing up and taking off his sweatpants and boxers, walking straight to you. You closed your legs, a bit cold and embarrassed now that your high was over. Standing right in front of you, he cupped your cheek, making you look up at his face, however, even though your head was tipped back, aimed at his eyes, your glance hung low, staring at the droplets smearing his abdomen. "What are you looking at, spoiled little fox?" He said, with a sardonic smile. 

"I wanna lick."

He grinned and scooped some liquid with his digit, bringing it to your lips. 

Parting your lips, you licked your lower one first, then you let your tongue dart out and swipe at his finger, carefully sucking it into your mouth before he lowered his eyes, staring into yours and smirking seducingly as he pulled his digit out. You smacked your lips and savoured his taste, your eyelids falling shut as you hummed at his flavour. 

His cock, once half soft, was now hardening again, swelling intermittently and slowly rising to his navel. But Namjoon's eyes were focused on your face. "Want more?" He asked once your eyes opened and your gaze focused on his face. With a sex-addled, lazy grin you nodded, opening your mouth. 

He grinned right back. "Such a hungry little girl."

Impatient, you grabbed his hips, pulling him towards you and licking his belly clean. He groaned, observing you closely. 

I'm going to teach her some patience and some manners, he thought darkly. However, he immediately reminded himself that he would never have the time, your liaison coming to an end.

With this unfortunate thought, he cupped your face. "I'm the one supposed to be eating now, ____. Let me take care of you, darling." He said, before falling to his knees. Immediately he pushed the back of the chair to the table, so that it wouldn't cartwheel out of his grasp. 

Once more you asked yourself how many times he had done that before, thinking about how the relationship with the bride-to-be must have been mostly sexual, since you don't usually have much romance and dates with someone who is taken. Even though he didn't know she was taken. Whatever. 

In that moment he was there, kneeling before you, placing your heels on his shoulders, cupping your ass and tipping it forward so he could easily and comfortably give you that first, glorious lick from your hole to your clit. "Taste so good." He said, nuzzling his lips side to side as he spoke, mixing the movement to the vibration of his voice. He bit the small tattoo at the top of your thigh, where it met your pelvis, just shy of your hip bone. "Sexy little thing." He kissed it. "Drove me insane since day one." As usual, he sucked at it, causing a dark purple mark to bloom over it. "Fucking perfect."

He laid his tongue flat against your slit drawing the tiniest circles with the whole length of it. 

You hand-combed his hair back, holding it so you could look into his dragon eyes. He looked vicious and dangerous and so cunning, so smart in the most atrocious way. 

"Namjoon." You moaned, your hips arching closer to his mouth. 

He snickered cockily, moving his tongue slowly back into his mouth, allowing only the tip to wander up your crevice and reach the apex of your labia. He delivered a set of ten licks, slow and curling perfectly against your nub. "Are you good, little fox?" He asked. 

You nodded and pushed his head back between your legs. 

He laughed loudly, fighting against you. "I'm not done talking, brat." He bit your lower belly gently. "I'm gonna pump your clit with my mouth, Vixen. I'll suck it twenty times, then I'll let you rest until I'm ready again. I'll keep going until you cum. Remember that after twenty I'll pause. This could easily turn into edgeplay, baby, so you'd better get very horny very fast. You okay, Vixen?"

He checked on you and you nodded, impatient to simply have him on your clit.

"Be verbal, little girl." He reprimanded.

"Yes, daddy."

"Good girl. Let's get started."

He wasted no time. He wrapped his lips around your clit and started sucking, sucking so hard that you knew the following day his jaw and ears would hurt. At pump fifteen you already knew you needed more than twenty to cum. And as twenty arrived you whined but you felt confident that the next set would suffice. 

This time you felt your edge at twelve, still you needed more. You were getting wetter and wetter, so soaked that his saliva and your slick mixed up and made you feel uncomfortable between your asscheeks. 

"Joon–" You said, at which he mumbled "language" in between two pumps. 

"Daddy, I want your fingers inside." You said, indulging his every whim. 

He fumbled around with his arms, securing you with his left, making sure that your backside wouldn't get too close to the edge of the seat, and cause you to fall. His right arm moved back to your front, his index and middle finger coming to your entrance and waiting, his drool sliding from his tongue down your slit and directly on his fingers which, now lubricated, slipped in with no friction or resistance. The pressure was mind-blowing, your head spinning. "Daddy, please."

"Please what?" He said, hitting his pause. 

"Make me cum. Let me." You asked, as meekly as you could. 

"Why should I, uh?" He teased. 

"Because I am a good girl." Because I love you, said an obnoxious part of your brain. 

"Then I need you to say it one last time, Vixen. I know I've tormented you, but I need to ask it once and for all. Is there anyone else?" He said, his voice almost breaking. 

"No, Namjoon. I swear to God, there's no one else. I promise it. I swear on everything that I love the most. Please." You begged, hoping that he would feel the desperate honesty in your voice. "Please. You're my only daddy. I have you, only you. I am yours." You said, and God if it felt right, if it felt true, being his, belonging to him. 

Tell him you love him, your brain said again, but you refused. 

He smiled brightly at your declaration. "We're done playing, if you want to, Vixen."

You simply nodded, batting your lashes at him. "I want to."

"Then hold tight because I'm not going to stop until you're fucking my face and screaming my name and shaking on this seat. Understood?" He warned you. 

"Yes, daddy." You replied. 

"Then hold tight, baby fox. I'm gonna eat you alive."

"Try." You challenged him. 

And that's when he pounced. His pumps became longer, impossibly tighter, and the small pause between one and the next became shorter. Your eyes locked with his, brows knitting together, lips parting in a mewl as you threw your head back. "Namjoon. Please, daddy." 

Smirking, he mixed the pumping motion with a barely-there curl of his tongue, teasing your clit with such delicate pressure that you couldn't even wrap your head around the incredible amount of tension that it was causing in your body. Your hands tightened in his hair, your moans dissolving into small giggles. 

He wanted to tell you how good you sounded, how pretty you looked, how he wanted to see this every day for the rest of his life. He loved seeing you this happy, this carried away. He loved your morning voice and your late night cuddles. He loved breakfast in bed and midnight snacks and three a.m. quickies. He loved watching you take off your bra from under your t-shirt before going to bed, he loved seeing you shiver as you went to the bathroom early in the morning, clad in his t-shirt, plain cotton briefs and a pair of socks even in the dead of winter, since he always kept you warm under the covers by holding you close. He wanted to confess it all: the heartwarming wonder he felt staring at you had when you focused while reading and studying, when you brushed your hair, when you got dressed before leaving for the day, when you stood at the kitchen counter, cooking, with your back to him, and again when you applied lotion all over your body after showering, when he kissed your nape, standing behind you and donning the zipper of your dress. 

However, he stayed silent, showing it all with the reckless ministrations of his mouth as your chest blushed, your hands grabbed his hair almost painfully and your hips snapped, your mouth opening in a silent scream. 

You hadn't even bothered telling him you were cumming. He knew anyway. His mouth became more gentle, resolving to small licks while his fingers massaged your walls deep and slow, perfectly responding to the contractions of your muscles. "Here, pretty thing." He murmured, his hair tickling the skin of your stomach. "I've got you, baby. Shhh." He calmed you down, your breath coming in heavy pants, your heartbeat going like crazy. He rubbed his soaked fingers against his thigh, briefly cleaning himself before coming up to your face, cupping your cheeks. "Are you okay, little one?"

You nodded with your eyes closed, getting sleepy. 

He caressed your face. "Open your eyes for me, baby girl, let me see your pretty eyes." 

With a beatific smile you tried to look at him, eyelids lifting, taking a few seconds to focus on him. 

"There she is, my moonshine." He cooed, pressing a kiss to your lips. "You look really happy, baby thing."

You simply moved your head in a nod. 

"Do you want more, little fox?" He asked, still fussing over you. "Can you take it just one more time, babe?" 

Licking your lips you nodded again with a giggle. 

He smiled. "You keep nodding, baby. Are you saying yes to daddy?" 

"Yes, Joonie." You whispered slowly. 

"Good girl. Can you walk, Vixen?" 

"Yes."

"Great. I want you to kneel in front of the coffee table, darling." He commanded, rising to his feet and helping you stand up. 

This would be the last time, he decided. 

He would allow himself your heaven just one more time, then he would hold you close for a few minutes, clean you up, accompany you home and let you go. He wasn't man enough to look into your eyes. He was weak and unfair. He turned you around with your back to him, his erection brushing against the small of your back. Once you were in front of the table, he moved your hair to the side, skimming the curve of your ear with his lower lip. "Kneel, Vixen."

You did. 

He kneeled behind you, moving the books and magazines on the floor, away from the two of you, while the traces of your dinner were thrown into the bag, which he would discard later. With an empty table, he pushed his palm from the small of your back to your nape, making your front adhere to the table and making sure that your hair was out of the way. "I know you love this table." He murmured. 

"I do."

"I do, too." His heart felt like a burden. Without further hesitation, he grabbed his length and rubbed his tip against you. "You ready, ____?" 

"Please."

With a groan he slipped in, the filling sensation causing a loud whine on your behalf. "Quiet." He reprimanded. 

You got a little scared at his dark voice, knowing that at this point you'd better obey. However, it lasted little. Once he bottomed out, he growled, bending down to your neck. "You good, little one?" He said, his sweet persona back in place. 

"Yes, daddy."

He was breathing heavily through his nose as he sucked at the skin of your neck, marking you. As soon as he was sure the mark would bruise and stay for at least a couple days, he released your skin. "Do you want your spanks, baby girl?" 

Your eyes rolling with pleasure, you hummed. "I want them so much, daddy. Spank me, please."

He simply breathed. "With pleasure, little one." He knew no one would ever be this good to him. 

His chest parted from your back, a small shiver settling in instead. 

The first smack was harsh, angry. You clenched around him and he thrusted in violently, growling. 

The second one hit the tender skin of your outer thigh, where it met your ass. "Daddy." You whined. 

"Quiet." He chastised again, his voice strained. He hammered into you four or five times. 

"Daddy, it hurts." You cried out, at which he stayed silent, simply spanking you again, twice, without rubbing soothingly at your skin. You emitted a shrill huffing sound of complaint, at which he answered with violent ramming into you, using both hands to push you onto his lap. 

This was not how Joon usually did it. This was not normal. With worry distracting your mind, you turned your head, looking at him. His eyes were closed, droplets falling down his cheeks. Was it sweat or tears? 

"Namjoon?" You asked, alarmed. 

He shook his head, biting his lip. "You good?" He asked, eyes still closed. 

"Stop." You murmured. 

He obeyed, exiting your warmth and opening his eyes, still avoiding your gaze contact. "Did I—?"

"Look at me." 

He shook his head. "I can't." 

"Namjoon." You reprimanded. 

As your eyes met his, you noticed they were rimmed with tears, and he was biting his lip to hold back a sob, shaking his head in shame. 

Your initial shock was followed by an overwhelming sense of tenderness for the beautiful, delicate man in front of you. 

You quickly decided what to do. 

You turned around fully, facing him as you stood on your knees, your hands caressing his cheeks. "What is it, Joonie bear?" 

He simply frowned and hid in the crook of your neck, desperate. 

"What is it?" You asked again. 

He nuzzled even more into your chest, inhaling the damp feel of your skin. "I just want it to be a good memory." He huffed with a broken whisper. 

A memory? "Why would it be a memory, Namjoon?" You asked, confused. 

"If it's our last time, I wanna be good to you." He said, and you could feel every ounce of sadness in his voice. 

Last time? "Joonie bear, why would it be our last time?" 

His shoulders shook with sobs as he stopped holding back his tears. "I've been a bastard, it's okay if you want to go." He tried saying in his most composed voice.

You frowned in confusion. "No, Namjoon."

"You want to leave me. It's okay. I need it only one last time."

You shook your head, trying to grab his chin and make him look at you. However, he strongly opposed. 

"Joonie." You murmured, hugging his head and caressing his hair. "I'm not here to leave you." You whispered. "I want to be with you." You continued. 

He shook his head even more. "I was dumb. You have every right—" 

"No." You kissed his head, caressing his shoulders, hugging him tight. "I'm not going anywhere." 

He looked up at you, his face covered in tears. 

"Oh, baby bear." You cooed, touching his cheeks, kissing his forehead. "Don't cry, Joonie." He disappeared even more into you, hugging your entire figure, dwarfing you. "Don't cry, my love." You whispered, the word tiptoeing out of your lips. He sobbed harder. "I'm so in love with you, Joonie bear." You crooned, offering him all your soul in those simple, childish words. 

"You love me?" He asked, confused, alarmed, petrified. 

"I love you, Namjoon." You repeated. 

He completely forgot his messy face and brought his lips to yours, his mouth melting into you eagerly as your tongues spoke a language that came so natural to both of you. 

Breathless, he parted from you. "I love you. I love you so much." He pressed tens of kisses on your face with such speed and pressure that you felt like disappearing into him. 

"I love you too." You giggled, trying to clean his face. 

You both laughed, elated, his hands coming to your waist, holding you closer and closer. "I wanna make love to you." He whispered. "Let me love you."

"Missionary on the carpet or cowgirl on the sofa?" You asked. 

"Why choose when you can have both?" He wiggled an eyebrow. You smiled. He smiled back. "Let's get on the sofa." He replied gently. "You'll catch a cold with your sweaty back on the freezing floor."

"But no missionary on the sofa…" You cried out like a child. 

He smiled. "Do you want missionary so bad?" He kissed your temple, smiling. 

"I guess I'll be happy with anything you want." You pouted, still doubtful. 

"C'mere." He said, getting even closer. You slipped your stilettos off and he picked you up by the back of your thighs and with some strength you didn't know he had, he carried you to the sofa, careful not to step on your shoes. "I'm going to sit. Careful with your legs." He warned, plopping down as carefully and as gently as he could, mercifully avoiding to sit with your calves underneath him. 

"Don't worry, I won't make you ride me, baby." He kissed your brow. "You're too tired for that." He cradled you to his chest, offering you a bit of his body heat. "Can you push it inside you for me, love?" He asked seducingly, kissing your neck. 

You smiled and reached between your bodies. He was already pulsating, you knew he would come undone in a few strokes. Slowly, you lifted your hips and pushed his tip inside, making him groan. 

"You're always so tight, babylove. Fuck, you feel amazing." He sucked at your neck some more, drawing a twin bruise to the one you had on the other side of your throat. "I feel like a fucking teenager with you. I can never get enough." His hips jutted a little, pushing into you while his forearm around your waist pulled you down, his hand gripping your ass. 

"Daddy." You breathed out, your forehead pressed against his neck as he bottomed out. 

"Yes?" He replied, soothing you with long caresses down your spine. "Does it hurt, doll?" 

He had so many nicknames for you but you couldn't wait for your next. "No, daddy." He held your face away from his shoulder. "Are you sure babylove?" 

Your face stretched in a slight grimace. "Maybe."

He giggled and kissed your cheek, sliding down to your mouth. "I'm sorry, Vixen." He pressed his lips to yours once and then again. "I'm so sorry, baby. For everything." He combed your hair back. "I can't promise you I'll never hurt you, but I can promise I'll try to make it better every single time." He held you close as your brow furrowed. "I love you." He whispered, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other pressing on your lower back. 

"I love you too." You said right back. "But please, Joonie…" 

"Need me to move?" He asked.

"I want you to cum." You murmured. 

He smirked and nodded. "Want me to finger you?" He asked, already drawing short thrusts into you and helping you ride him with his forearm around you. 

"Yes, please, daddy." You whined.

His right hand left the crown of your head, coming to the top of your thighs and beginning to draw small circles at the apex of your labia, the flat of his thumb wide enough to cover your bundle of nerves entirely.

"Would you like to take your time, Vixen?" He asked kindly, knowing that sometimes it took you a bit longer than him to actually get worked up. 

"I just need you to keep going exactly like this. You're perfect, Joonie."

He grunted and started pushing into you from below. "Like this?" He said, his voice a tad strained. 

His thrusts were low and deep, curling just enough to hit your sweet spot. He realised you started holding your breath. Usually that meant you were close. 

He bent his head, looking down where your bodies joined. It was hypnotizing, his thumb drawing perfectly identical circles. He started kissing and licking any and every inch of skin that came close to his mouth, your shoulder, your chest, your neck, sucking whenever he managed to grip the skin for long enough to bruise and mark. 

When you started shoving yourself on him, bouncing in earnest, he kept his cool and stopped fooling around, staying focused on lasting long enough, doing the exact same thing, knowing that with a few thrusts delivered just right, you would become like putty in his arms and he could just get crazy and chase his high. 

With your lips parting in a high pitched moan, you pressed your hips to his two more times before your chest collapsed into his with a tired whimper. "Take what you need." You murmured before propping yourself with your forearms against the back of the sofa, lifting your hips. Your face was pressed at the crook beneath his jaw, your tongue blindly chasing the droplets of sweat sliding down the column of his throat. He emitted an animalistic groan before his palms thudded heavily against your glutes, gripping your hips so hard that both his knuckles and your flesh turned white. And then he started ramming into you from below. The sounds in the room were a mix of his grunts, the smacking of flesh and the wetness between your legs, but more quietly, under all those layers, in between a groan and the next, there were his whispered love declarations, which poured out of his mouth like prayers, until he was so close, so fucked out that he could only repeat 'I love you', over and over, interrupted only by a final howl as he spilled inside you. 

In all of this you had tried to stay quiet, shushing him and kissing his neck, not sure that you were allowed to mark him. 

You laid both exhausted, his body sliding sideways down the sofa, trying to rest on the seats, his head laying on an armrest as his ankles dangling from the other. You covered him like a blanket, your hair draping over his chest and tumbling down the edge of the sofa. 

You were both sweaty and messy with cum and drool, still you simply laid there, until you felt too cold and shivered. 

"Blanket?" You asked. 

He shook his head. "I'd better dress you and take you back at mine. I can go home tonight. There's no use working late. I need to rest anyway."

"Are you sure." You asked, touching his face. 

He kissed your wrist. "Sure."

"I have to clean your chair first. I should have some wet wipes in my handbag." You mumbled. "And I should clean myself too before I drip on your lovely sofa."

He hummed, tired, fake-crying as he said "I don't wanna get up."

"My bag is right beside the sofa, just stretch your arm backward." You directed him. 

He fumbled around a bit, moving the bag from behind his head to your side, where you could easily reach inside. After a bit of rummaging, you fished out your wipes, making a quick work of pulling him out and cleaning yourself. 

"Cold." He muttered with a pout, which you kissed away from his face. 

"Come on, baby bear, get up and get dressed. I wanna shower with you and shower you in kisses." You pampered him, trying to convince him to get ready to leave. 

He whined as you sat up, quickly dashing to recoup your underwear. Once you were wearing it, you cleaned his chair, quite happy when you noticed that it wasn't half as bad as you though. When you turned, you noticed he was staring at you, already completely dressed, your dress in his hands. You moved closer.

"Up with your arms, love." He said gently, and for a second you realised that your simple and emotional confessions weren't a mirage caused by arousal or desperation. 

You followed his instructions as he helped you wear your dress, slipping it over your head and helping you find both sleeves. Next he gripped the hem at both sides, delicately rolling the fabric down your body. Once it reached your knees, he let his hands skim back up your hips and waist, crossing his wrists behind your back before squeezing your ass. He stared at your throat. 

"Will I have to wear a turtleneck for the next ten days?" You asked, slipping the neck of your dress aside and checking the damage. 

"Sorry." He murmured. 

"It's okay. I like it. I'm just teasing you." You said with a playful smirk. 

"Brat." He mouthed with a snicker, bending down to pick up your tights. 

You tutted, stealing them from his hands. "Let me do these, they're tricky."

He simply stared, his body trembling with a new tide of arousal at the mannerism you used to put on the garment, rolling up one leg between your thumbs and forefingers, pressing your toes against the stitching and dragging the nylon up your leg. He had seen this scene in an old Italian movie, but seeing the gesture in real life helped him understand the frenzy that the main character experienced after such an act. After you repeated the movement on the other leg, his mouth practically salivating, he watched some more as you fixed the gusset and the waistband, stretching the garment around the curve of your ass. 

"Call me whenever you need to wear those." He whispered in marvel and agony. "I might take them off you just to see it all over again."

You smiled coquettishly, grabbing your coat and wearing it. 

He kneeled in front of you, holding one of your shoes. "When's your birthday?" He asked, making you lift one foot as he slipped your heel on. 

You frowned, the connection unknown to you. "Mid-november. Why?" 

He held your other shoe and you held onto his shoulder as you lifted your other foot, wearing the black stiletto. "I loved seeing those on you tonight. I might buy you another pair or eight as a birthday gift."

You shook your head and laughed. "I don't need a sugar daddy, I'm happy with my plain, regular one." He rose to his feet and you grabbed his cheeks, planting a big, fat smooch on his mouth. "I'm actually very, very in love."

"Hello, Actually Very, Very in Love. My name is Head Over Heels — he pointed at your shoes — in Love. Pleased to meet you."

You laughed and he felt his heart explode with joy, his nose brushing against yours with Eskimo kisses. "Your bag." He said, bending to pick it up. "My bags." He said, collecting his tote and the small paper bag with his belongings that you had brought him. He neared his desk, checking the various devices. "Equipment off, computer off–" He mumbled as he moved the mouse to shut down the system. Meanwhile you fixed the low table, putting the magazines back on top of it. He switched off his table lamp and moved towards the door. "Dinner." He reminded himself, picking up the trash bag by the entrance. "You ready, Vixen?" 

You hummed in confirmation. 

"Let's go." 

[xmint-conditionx]

☆ flanked ☆ ch1 | knj

(verb) flank - 

guard or strengthen (a military force or position) from the side.

attack down or from the sides, or rake with gunfire from the sides.

☆ pairing: soldier!namjoon x widow!reader; namjoon x fem!reader ☆ word count: 4.7K ☆ summary: you’re a recently widowed military spouse who is stationed at camp walker, south korea. you’re dealing with the tragedy of your husband’s recent death, and in the process, you accidentally meet a k-pop idol you’ve had a crush on for years. who knew you’d both be at the same post while he’s doing his compulsory service? who knew he’d be so damn nice? who knew it would be impossible to get him out of your head? ☆ warnings: angst, mentions of death, grieving, feelings of guilt, brief description of sexual acts. ☆ a/n: hey everyone c: glad to be putting this gem back up into the world. please do let me know if you want to be added to a taglist for this, i’d be happy to oblige! this was one of the first things i’ve written, and so i hadn’t quite found my style yet, but it’s not that bad??? i pretty much have the whole story planned out, but i want to take my time with it. this is my lil baby, and i wanna treat it right uwu this starts off with a lot of angst and tough emotions, but there will be eventual smut!!! huge thank you to my supportive spouse who is in the military and has helped out with some of the realism aspects of this story. hope y’all like it! enjoy!

- minty <3

It’s raining today. Again. The clouds hang low, like a weighted blanket covering your whole world. Aren’t those things supposed to help with anxiety? If only the clouds comforted you, maybe you wouldn’t feel the need to go to… therapy. The word stings in your brain. Another cruel joke of the universe: the un-comforting weighted cloud blanket, and the need for you to go to therapy to ease your pain about a dead therapist. 

The light of the day is beginning to leave as you walk towards the address the man had given you the day before. You really should have been nicer; he really didn’t mean to hurt you. And you really should have asked his name. Mentally kicking yourself, you vow that you’ll do it tonight. After all, this is the only other time you’ve left the house by yourself this week. It was nice to not have the Casualty Assistance Officer breathing down your neck for once. There has to be some good in that. Hell, this little outing might actually be helpful.

The old government building is dull, like both the sky and your feelings. If you died right now and were reincarnated into an object instead of a being, the building in front of you would probably be the best fit. Shades of brown and grey cover tired and worn brick. Government funding has tried its best to keep it presentable but truthfully, it’s barely holding on. It’s definitely seen better days. The more you think about the similarities, the more pathetic you feel, so you push on ahead and push the thoughts out of your mind. The door creaks as you walk in the cold and dark foyer and it all just... makes sense. As empty inside as you are. Jesus, you’ve never been this morbid. There are no lights on other than one at the end of one of the hallways, and you hesitantly step towards it. You don’t like the thought of what that light is going to expose. 

As you reluctantly enter the beam of offensive fluorescent light, someone takes notice of you. Already? They’re walking towards you, hand extended. You’re busy blinking back at the new bright sensation as you reach your hand out to introduce yourself. After blinking back the harsh light, you can see the little folding chairs placed in a circle in the room. Great, you think, just like AA. 

The man before you seems to be in his late 30s, a little on the short side, with a little bit of hair recession. As you finish your short bow to the man, he says in Korean “Yes, someone told us you might be joining us tonight.” as he sends a meaningful look over to one of the chairs in the circle. You follow his gaze to see the man from yesterday grinning up at you, dimples on full display, this time in civilian clothes. After sending you a goofy little wave, he pats the chair next to him and not so smoothly motions for you to sit there. 

“Go ahead,” the older man says, “make yourself comfortable. We’ll be starting in a few minutes.”

You walk toward the empty chair, and take in how truly different he looks in plain clothes. His KATUSA uniform was extremely flattering to his large frame, but this is just downright cruel. The black beanie he’s sporting looks way too good on him. His short sleeved v-neck shirt is a little tight, revealing the finely defined shape of his chest and his arms. He catches your eyes lingering on his body, and you quickly look down as you feel a blush creep up. You tell yourself to just pretend nothing happened, and it’ll all be fine. 

After you sit down, you open your mouth to ask for his name, but he does the same, your voices awkwardly echoing each other. Realizing what happened, your cheeks grow even warmer and you can’t help but turn away as you both share a laugh. You shake it off and give him your name, family first and individual second, attempting to at least make eye contact with him. 

“Nice to officially meet you. I’m Sangbyeong Kim Namjoon, but please don’t feel the need to use titles or honorifics with me. We’re equals here as far as I’m concerned. I’m really glad you decided to come tonight.” 

So, it is him. You can’t even begin to believe it. He looks so different than he did in the tour pictures you saw only a few years ago, but as you look up at him knowing what you know, it all falls into place. Some things for sure didn’t change one bit- his button nose, his deep and smoldering eyes, and the signature dimples really should have given it away. His smile is still just as genuine and reassuring and gleaming and... beautiful?

You immediately squish the thought and offer him back a tight smile. You’re not going to let him know you know who he is. It would probably only make him feel weird and you’ve already been so awful to him. You’re not going to allow yourself to make a big deal about this, and you’re definitely not going to allow yourself to... like him. 

“Look,” you start, “I appreciate your concern. I... I just don’t think something like this will help me. At least not right now.” You sigh, studying your shoes as a distraction. Your hands busy themselves fiddling with your necklace. There’s no way you can be here sitting this close to Namjoon. 

As if he can read your panicked thoughts, Namjoon leans in closer to you, so close you can feel his warm breath on your jaw, and with a hushed and more gravelly voice, he says, “You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. Hell, I didn’t say anything for almost a whole month. It just... felt good to listen. You’re not going to be forced into anything. This is going to go at your speed and be what you’re comfortable with. I promise.” With that last sentence, he places his large, warm hand on your knee. 

Shit. You suddenly feel your entire body ignite. What is this? A bolt of lightning rushes up your spine. Your heart starts to pound in your chest. No, this isn’t happening. Your legs begin to tingle. This can’t be happening; this is not allowed. You swallow hard. 

You don’t want to be aroused. You straight up shouldn’t be aroused. This is messed up. Really messed up. You blink some sense back into yourself and cross your legs away from him which thankfully removes the cursed hand.

You’d imagined being touched by this man for a pretty considerable amount of time some years ago; you had filled your head with countless fantasies, knowing they’d never come true. You’d read countless imaginings of his other fans and admirers. This man had fueled so many hidden desires within you. You’d thought of his hands exploring your frame, his strong arms throwing you around, his plush lips leaving marks along your inner thighs...

Thinking of him had been your guilty little pleasure, even something your husband had liked to playfully tease you about. To actually have him here next to you in the flesh, though, was still somehow unfathomable. Why now, you mentally screamed to the god you didn’t believe in. The universe’s cruel jokes just won’t end, will they? What can you possibly even do about this? You can’t sit here and allow your panties to be wet when your husband hasn’t even been buried yet for fucks sake. God, you’re so ashamed. You’re just going to have to keep him at a polite distance. That’s your only option.

You don’t speak through the meeting. But Namjoon was right, it is kind of nice to hear other people’s stories. Even though it’s only been a week since you found out, there’s a lot of feelings and thoughts you can relate to with these people. You’ve found out why Namjoon comes to these meetings every week. That was a question you didn’t want to linger on, much less learn the answer to. You didn’t want to imagine him experiencing a loss like this. Even when you weren’t convinced it was really him, seeing that same pain in another’s eyes only made yours hurt worse. 

One of Namjoon’s fellow soldiers had died in a training accident, and the whole fire team was there doing group therapy. They spent most of their time remembering the funny things he would do to cheer everyone up during their long ruck marches and their annoying and boring bouts of equipment cleaning. Private First Class Derek Williams was the goofball of the group, and he was definitely well loved. Namjoon’s eyes never fully lit up when everyone’s anecdotes hit their punchline.

As the meeting draws to a close and people begin filing out, the group leader comes over to the both of you and asks Namjoon how his thoughts have been over the past week. It’s interesting that the man takes special interest in Namjoon. He nods and just casually replies, “I keep thinking it should have been me instead.”

His relaxed confession is absolutely shocking. Why would he say that? The older man seems to be as surprised as you are.

“Namjoon-ah, please don’t say such things,” the man urges. 

“I know how it sounds, I really do. I’m not going to do anything crazy, and I know it’s a pointless thought,” he shrugs. “It’s just how I’ve been feeling.” 

The older man nods. 

“Go in well-being, Namjoon. Please, call me if you need to.”

You find yourself walking out together. The sky is now fully dark and there’s an added chill in the air, urging you to pull your scarf up a little higher. At least it’s not raining anymore. It’s not usually this cold in Daegu at this time of year; you’re practically begging Spring to come. Although you’re in stride with each other, Namjoon feels like he’s a million miles away.

 “Hey,” you begin, hoping to ease the tension. “I’m sorry about your friend. He sounded like a really nice guy.” 

“Yeah, he was. Thanks. I’m sorry about your husband too. You seem to miss him a lot.” 

“Yeah, I do. Part of me still doesn’t believe he can really be gone. I feel like I’ve been walking around in a daze for the past week. All the paperwork I’ve had to sign. All the logistics. It’s all a little overwhelming so I… just kind of shut down most of the time. Our dog is still looking for him around the house, too, which is probably the worst thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“Oh, shit. I couldn’t imagine. I have a dog too and... I don’t want to think about how confused they must be. That’s terrible. I’m so sorry.”

You both stop walking, because you realize you’ve allowed him to walk you all the way to your car. He didn’t even ask.

“Speaking of my son… I... actually need to go walk him. He’s been inside all day and it’s finally stopped raining. Huskies need exercise... So...”

Namjoon lights up a little. “Do you walk him on post?”

“No actually, we go to Duryu Park. He likes the ducks that gather at the pond. Although they probably won’t be doing very much at this time of night.”

“Hey, why don’t we go together?” he asks, “It’s dark out and it’s not a good idea for you to be by yourself.” 

“Excuse me?” you snap. He doesn’t know you’re a brown belt, but he sure is about to.

A flustered Namjoon begins stumbling over his words. “I’m just saying, you’re like really small and someone could easily—“

“Namjoon,” you laugh. “I think I can handle myself.”

“No, uh, what I’m trying to say is that there’s safety in numbers, you know? It would be difficult to fight off bad guys while keeping hold of your dog...” He has a good point. You’ve never walked Draco this late before. You don’t want to admit it, but your recent lesson in mortality has left you a little more than uneasy, especially now that Namjoon has made you think about it.

He continues his word vomit, mistaking your furrowed eyebrows for reluctance instead of consideration. 

“Look, I’m sure you’re very intimidating but—“

Oh my god, you can’t take it anymore. 

“Namjoon!” you exclaim and he finally, finally stops the verbal deluge. “Fine.” 

He seems astonished. “Really?”

“Yeah, meet me by the bridge that leads to the little island in the middle of the pond in like... 30 minutes. We usually do two laps around the water. And...” you pause, “thanks.” You’re a little annoyed at how persistent he can be, but he is really considerate.

His eyes sparkle in the light of the street lamps and you notice his gaze linger on your pursed lips. He does a... weird little hop and finally fully smiles at you. You’ve forgotten how utterly striking his full smile can be. Jesus Christ, how many teeth does this man have? His cheeks have become even more round and his eyes shrink into little half moons. Your stomach does somersaults as you bask in the glow of his happiness. Ugh, not again.

“Okay, I’ll see you soon!” he says, hurrying away. You don’t notice him glance back at you, and that’s probably a good thing.

You get in your car and put your forehead against the steering wheel. Why can’t you just say no to this man?

___________________________

You walk up to the start of the bridge with your pup in tow, who is obviously very pleased to be outside and at his favorite park to boot. The street lamps don’t cover much, but you can just make out a leggy figure standing next to a small white fluff ball. You’d forgotten he said he had a dog too. As you get closer, you see he’s got the leash handle around his wrist, because both his hands are holding two white cups with steam pouring out of the top. 

“What’s this?” you ask, as he extends one of the cups to you. Your dogs are busy sniffing each other, ears back and tails wagging. 

“Hot chocolate! It’s really cold out and I noticed you shivering when we got out of the group therapy building and I was going to get you coffee but I didn’t know what kind you like or how you take it plus it’s late and caffeine might keep you up all night and I didn’t want to—“

“Namjoon,” you cut him off before he explodes. “Thank you.” you reply, taking a sip of the hot drink and relishing in how it warms you up. You look back up at the handsome man, who is beaming down at you, enthralled in your pleased reaction. Warmth is beginning to spread through your body, and as your eye contact with him deepens, you begin to wonder if it’s just the hot chocolate. You can’t help yourself. “You do know that there’s a lot of sugar in hot chocolate though, right?” 

He furrows his eyebrows and panic soon consumes his face.

 “Oh! Right! I’m sorry I—“

“Relax, I’m just teasing you. I’ll be fine, promise. And if I’m not and you end up keeping me up all night, I guess I’ll just have to kick your ass.” you deadpan, which takes more effort than usual because now, you’re picturing him… keeping you up all night.

He starts laughing and you can’t help but to join him. He has a good, hearty laugh, one that makes his entire face light up. It feels really good to be laughing with him. 

“Oh!” he exclaims suddenly, “this is Moni!” gesturing down to the adorable American Eskimo at the end of the pink leash. 

You squat down to formally introduce yourself to Moni. You let him sniff your hand as your dog takes the opportunity to sneak some kisses on your face. 

“Bananas, stop!” you light-heartedly scold, but your pooch doesn’t get the message. He seems encouraged instead, and you are given no mercy by your big fluffy boy. 

Namjoon just laughs at how adorably frustrated you are. After he’s had enough entertainment, he extends a hand and helps you back up. This is the first time you’ve touched skin to skin, and your body is keenly aware of it. His hands are softer than you thought they’d be, and really warm. With how cold it is, you wish you could keep holding onto his strong yet elegant hands. Even after he’s released you, a symphony of tingles play in your legs, betraying you once again.

“Shall we then?” Namjoon asks, tilting his head down slightly so he’s looking at you through his eyelashes. Why does he have to do that? He can’t look at you like that. It’s illegal. Not allowed. He’s torturing you, and surely he has to know that. Or is he oblivious? He’s probably not even trying, because he has no reason to. He doesn’t even need to try. Which is kind of the problem, because you can’t exactly tell him to stop being so damn hot.

You can only answer him by tugging on your leash with a “let’s go!”

Over your walk, you talk about favorite places to eat in town and the different attractions you’ve come to love during your stay here. He talks about one of his best friends who grew up here in Daegu, so he knows all of these nice little spots only a local would typically know. You don’t have to wait for him to say Yoongi’s name before you know who he’s talking about, bringing up a hint of stinging remorse at your secret. He says they’re still in contact as much as they can be, but it tends to be difficult when they were both doing their compulsory service. Yoongi had finished his obligation, and is back in Seoul working on music. For his time, he was stationed right outside of Seoul working with the Korean Military Police, so he never really had to totally put down his work. He talks about Yoongi like they’re brothers, and it’s one of the sweetest things you’ve ever seen. Namjoon doesn’t even try to hide how much he misses his friend.

He asks about where you grew up, and the question is kind of startling. It’s not that you’re not wanting to tell him, but you’re surprised that he wants to know.

“I grew up in Georgia, in the United States. It’s in the Southeastern part of the country.”

“Ah okay, so you grew up close to Atlanta?” he asks, full of curiosity. 

“Kind of! I was about a 4 hour drive from there. I grew up closer to the ocean.” you say, and notice his eyes light up when you mention the sea.

“There’s a guy in my unit,” he begins, “who did his training in Georgia. He said that there isn’t much there other than Atlanta...” he says, quickly noticing your bemused look. He catches himself and finishes, “but in hindsight he was likely biased.”

“He probably trained at Ft. Benning. If that’s the case, I don’t blame him for thinking that at all,” you say, “He’s actually kind of right, if that’s all of Georgia he got to see,” you continue, laughing a little.

“Well, what do you think of Georgia?”

“Hmmmm. I think I wouldn’t have wanted to grow up anywhere else. The area where I grew up was close to the beach, but there was also a lot of agriculture. My grandma even had a peach tree in her backyard. She’d let me go back there and pick a peach and eat it if I had behaved that day. Peaches are my favorite, so it was a pretty good motivator.”

“Georgia is known for their peaches, right?” he asks, but his tone tells you he already knows the answer to that. You had always thought people were exaggerating at how smart he is, but you can’t deny the fact any longer.

“Yeah, we’re even called the peach state. Peaches, pecans, sweet onions and peanuts all grow well there.” you say and he nods with understanding. 

“So what about the town you grew up in?”

“The town was pretty small, my high school maybe had 500 people in it. But the bigger city by us was great. A lot of different types of people. A lot of good food. God, I miss southern food a lot.” you gasp, grabbing his bicep with your free hand, “Namjoon! You haven’t lived until you’ve had good collard greens!” 

“Collard greens? I’ve never heard of that,” he says, scrunching up his eyebrows.

“It’s a side dish we eat down south. It goes with just about everything, but it’s best next to fried chicken and macaroni and cheese.”

“Macaroni and cheese…” he muses, letting the English words roll off his tongue, “I really want to try more American food. I’ve had plenty of hamburgers, but I want to try everything. PFC Williams always let me try his lunch if I asked him. He brought this thing called potato salad one day… that was an interesting experience.”

You sigh, “there’s much more to American food than just hamburgers and potato salad. Too bad there aren’t any real authentic American food restaurants here. Although, there is a Johnny Rockets on the other side of town. Is that where you get your hamburgers?”

“Yeah… it is. Chain restaurants are cheating though, right?”

“Yeah, basically. If you want real American food, you’ve got to get a real American to make it for you. I thought I really liked Korean food until I moved here. Americanized Koean food is not half as good as the real thing,” you assure him.

“I could have told you that,” he teases, giving you a light bump with his shoulder. “Do you have a favorite restaurant in town?”

You discuss the places you have come to love in Daegu, from restaurants to parks to shopping areas to museums. You both realize you enjoy art, although he prefers looking at it while you enjoy making it. The conversation ventures to Pollock and Monet and Van Gogh and you go on about how you just don’t get Picassos. He just lets you just rant about how much you hate his works for probably too long, until you’ve run out of breath and are forced to take a break.

“Wow, that bad huh? What did he ever do to you?” Namjoon chuckles.

“He destroyed my corneas with his kindergarten level bullshit, that’s what.” you snap, which only makes him laugh more.

“So it’s safe to say that you hate Banksy too, then?” 

“No way!” you say, “Banksy is a genius!”

He just continues to chuckle, clearly amused. “I will never understand you, woman.” 

“Are you trying to?” you quip before you can stop yourself, and his laughs die down. Oh, no. That was so direct. Way too direct. He’s got to know you’re into him now; he’d be a moron to not pick up on it. Your stomach is doing somersaults again, but not the good kind this time. You’ve known him for less than two days, so why did you think that was a good thing to say?

You chew your lip, worried of what he might be thinking. Or worse, what he might actually say. After an excruciatingly long silence, finally, it happens.

“Yes. I am.” 

What does that even mean?! Your thoughts are beginning to spiral again, and thankfully, he continues, albeit way too nonchalantly. 

“And honestly, it’s been really enjoyable to do.”

It’s been... enjoyable? Has he already forgotten how you met? This man must have a death wish if getting verbally murked by a strange woman in public was something he considered to be ‘enjoyable.’ You’re immeasurably grateful he isn't looking at you right now, because it’s nearly impossible to hide your astonishment. 

“So…” he begins slowly, “I hope you’ll continue to let me.”

What do you even say to something like that? Namjoon is so much nicer than you ever expected, and that fact is only making things more difficult for you. You’ve had more enjoyment in this one walk than you’ve had this whole week, but there’s about a million different reasons why you should stay away from him. If you only could have met under different circumstances, this might be something you could explore. Honestly, you would still love to explore the possibilities with him, even here and now, but the thoughts of your husband are difficult to push away. 

You recoil at that and curse yourself. 

They shouldn’t be pushed away! It’s not fair to your husband or to his memory. It wouldn’t even be fair to Namjoon! You can barely give yourself a hundred percent right now, much less a new friendship. On top of everything, you’re going to have to go back to the states in less than 6 months, which is an eventuality you’re not looking forward to facing. 

The only sounds now are the soft contact of your shoes against pavement, the tinkling of metal dog tags, and the cold breeze rustling the trees around the four of you. You were correct about there being no ducks out this late, and you find yourself missing their chatter. Anything to distract you from this confrontation would be welcome right now. As the silence grows longer, it becomes more and more difficult for you to respond. You’ve never been great with words, but what do you have to lose besides looking like an idiot? Besides, you’ve already done that. Like, yesterday. You take a deep breath and offer up the most broad explanation.

“Namjoon, I just can’t be a good friend to you right now.”

“That’s not what I’m asking for.” he simply replies, not missing a beat. Why is he being so stubborn? You’re going to have to elaborate. Forget trying to not make a fool out of yourself. He’s a good person, and he deserves your honesty-- at least most of it.

“I can’t be a good friend to you ever. I’m too consumed in my own baggage right now to help you carry yours. Plus, I’ll have to return to the States soon. I just… don’t want to be a burden on you.”

“That’s… not what I’m asking for,” he says again.

Frustration building up causes you to sigh at him. You’re going to need a little help from this infuriating dimpled tree-man, so you make him give it to you.

“What are you asking for, then?” you inquire with a little sting in your tone, leaving him with no room to continue being vague.

“I am asking to continue spending time with you. That’s it. I enjoy your company.” he says. This answer is still unacceptable to you because...

“I literally yelled at you in a parking lot yesterday, Namjoon,” you say.

“Yeah, but that was…” he trails off and scratches his head, “kind of my fault.” 

“You can’t be serious. You… didn’t know.”

“That might be true, but I still hurt you, and I’d like the chance to continue making it up to you. At risk of sounding really cheesy… Part of my job as a KATUSA is to be a symbol of the friendship and mutual support of our two fine countries... To learn from and assist each other... I don’t see why we couldn’t do that too...”

“That… really was cheesy, Namjoon,” you chuckle.

He smiles down at you, and your heart skips around in your chest. When he speaks again, he draws out the first word, clearly in a teasing mood now.

“Okay, but… did it work?” he teases with a sly grin as he side-eyes you.

Part of you wants to tell him no, but he does deserve honesty after all. At least mostly honesty. You want to reveal to him that you know who he is, but you’re unsure of the words to say. He seems eager to stay in your life here, for whatever reason. Compared to what you’ve just been through, nothing can really hurt you again. So what’s the harm, really? It’s not like you have anyone else to spend time with. 

“Yeah,” you confess. “It did.”

“So,” he begins, “does that mean you’ll let me show you the museum you haven’t been to yet? There’s this once piece in there that is spectacular. You have to let me show you.”

After a considerable silence, he looks at you with soft, begging eyes and lets out a soft “Please?”

“Okay, Namjoon. You got it.”

You cannot say no to this man.

“Saturday then? In the morning? We’ll want to beat the crowd, especially if you want to explore the whole thing!”

“That works for me. You know, I’m actually looking forward to you being my personal tour guide.”

“Great! I guess you really must be from Georgia. You’re sweet, just like a peach.”

[husbandograveyard]

Hi! For the cliche box opening- Marco and fem reader, 21?

Hiya! Some of that gorgeous phoenix man coming right up! I don’t know why he’s getting more and more popular but daaanggg I am all here for it, he really is one of those slightly perfect men, pineapple andall! I hope you enjoy this dear!! 

This is a setup - Marco x Reader 

Cliche with Bae prompt #21: Blind date set up by friends  Character: Marco - Word Count: 1.9k 

You never really thought about dates and such. As a pirate, you had better things to do than occupy your mind with romance. You had the occasional crush, the occasional fling when docked on an island. Usually never something serious. You have had some crushes on your crewmates too, but never really acted on it. It’d feel a little weird. 

Right now the object of your crushing was your ship’s doctor and commander of the first division, Marco the Phoenix. His soft and gentle demeanor, combined with his strength, determination, and leadership skills made it hard to not fall for him. And well, you’d be lying if you said he wasn’t extremely good looking. His reading glasses being the cherry on top, a sight you were seeing more and more often lately. 

Whitebeard had appointed you Marco’s assistant, mostly since you were one of the more gentle, calculated and precise people on board. Ideal to assist the doctor with his herbs and medicines, since you made no mistakes. And well, spending long days and sleepless nights with him, preparing herbs, labeling medicine and just generally assisting him in the infirmary, sometimes even taking over command over the nurses whenever commander duties called him, surely had made you appreciate him even more. 

A crush was just that, and you didn’t want it all interrupting your duties. But it was nice to have someone to daydream about whenever there was a silent moment and your actual dreams were bringing you much joy, glad to wake up with the prospect of spending time with the one person that kept visiting in your dreams. But you kept to dreaming and dreaming alone, it was not worth trying, besides, there was not even the slightest indication of any mutual pining. No way you were going to ruin your favorite job on the ship so far just for the sake of a possible relationship. 

After a party on the Moby dick, you had been slightly intoxicated, you had confided in Ace about having a crush when he asked you something about the guy you left behind some islands ago. You had forgotten about him and had explained to Ace how you preferred short flings for the duration of the stay on an island, and in the meantime, you’d enjoy your crushes on the ship.

It had been a terrible idea to tell him because this man was so damn curious about your crush, he kept bothering you, even if the alcohol had no more influence after the party ended, just kept on bothering you for days on end. You kept explaining you preferred to not get involved with someone on the crew and put a real emphasis on the fact that nothing should be one-sided. After a while, they stopped bugging you. At least that is what it seemed like. 

When you were about to dock at the new island, you were hanging out with Izo on deck. He too was now aware of the little situation going on with Marco, but compared to Thatch and Ace, went a lot more subtle about the whole ordeal. “So, y/n, are you going to find some other fling here too, or is your mind a little too pre-occupied?” “I don’t know”, you answered truthfully, “I guess I wouldn’t mind something to distract my brain for a little bit. I’ve never had a crush last this long.” Izo hummed. “Well, I do know some people on this island? How about I find you a nice man, and arrange a date? Kind of a blind date thing? I promise I won’t set you up with some kind of weirdo. Just… to distract the brain, and that way you won’t have to go through a batch of well willing guys that are not worth your time.” 

You thought it over for a bit, the offer didn’t seem that bad. Worst case scenario you just had a bad date, but the chances of having a bad date were just as big if you went out and looked for someone by yourself. Besides, you did trust Izo and his judgment, so the date couldn’t possibly that bad. “You know what? Sure. One blind date. The second night we’re at the island so you have time to convince someone to do a blind date thing.” You laughed and Izo nodded in response. “Consider it done~ I’ll figure out the details with him and let you know as soon as I’ve met up and set it up.” “Perfect.” 

As promised, the next day Izo gave you the time and place of a small restaurant pretty close to the harbor. “No need to dress up too fancy, I told him it was very casual. That way you can see for yourself whether you want to hook up or just have a fun evening.” You thanked him for his consideration. You were feeling a little bad, something you had never done when going onto a date of any kind. It was not even like you never had done a blind date before. You looked over at the closed door of Marco’s cabin and felt a little pang in your heart. You shook your head, there was no way that was going to work out, so might as well make the best of it tonight. 

You spent most of the day distracting yourself with your chores, even taking on extra ones to make time pass faster. And it worked very well, you nearly forgot about the excitement of the evening when Ace asked you why you were still on the ship. You had completely lost track of time. Good thing the date didn’t require dressing up nicely, you just changed into the first clean set of clothes you could find inside your cabin, and then sprinted your way to the restaurant. You remembered Izo’s words, the first row of tables to the right in the corner, he had booked it for the date so you definitely wouldn’t miss it and sit by the wrong person. 

You walked the final feet to the restaurant, not wanting to arrive all out of breath. You were only a couple of minutes too late. It was embarrassing, but not too bad. Maybe your date was a little late too and you could both laugh about it. You walked in, turned to the right, looked at the corner… and frowned. The table was taken already, a familiar face looking surprised before smiling and waving you over. You reluctantly walked up there, and with every step you took, the realization sank in: Izo had been part of a set-up. You’d strangle him the moment you got back. 

“Hey Marco” You smiled as you sat down, the doctor smiling back at you. “Did you know..?” “No, y/n”, he laughed, “I’m afraid we both are victims of a set-up”. You nodded. “Well, we might as well make the best out of it?” “That seems like a plan, nice food in great company sounds like an ideal date to me- yoi” he winked at you as he said that, and you couldn’t stop your cheeks from heating up a little. 

You ordered drinks and food, and once you got over the initial awkwardness and the fact that you both had drastically been set up by your friends and crewmembers, the conversation started flowing. Starting off with things about the ship and such, since that’s what you always talked about when you were working together, but slowly evolving to more personal conversations, such as your pasts, your dreams, your goals, your hopes, and aspirations. It all seemed to flow so easily and you were just having so much fun. 

Marco was not only an amazing date to have deep conversations with, he was also a true gentleman and incredibly funny. You could almost feel your crush grow into something more right at that very dinner table. Or at least, the denial that it was nothing more than a crush was about to get thrown overboard. You were head over heels and that was not part of the battle plan. You were surprised to get kicked out of the restaurant hours later because neither of you had noticed just how long you had been talking, keeping up the waiters and such. 

The cold evening air hit your skin and you shivered. Before you could even move your hands up to rub your arms, you felt the fabric of his jacket being draped over your shoulders. You wanted to swoon right then and there. Why was he so damn perfect. “Aren’t you gonna get cold?” “I am a literal firebird, y/n, I don’t get cold that easily-yoi” You chuckled and wrapped the jacket around you a little more tightly, instantly warming up a little as you started to walk back to the Moby Dick. 

“What are we going to tell them when we get back?” “I don’t know… I actually had a pleasant night, I wouldn’t mind going for another date” You stopped dead in your tracks. “Are you serious.” “Yes, I mean it. I have to admit, I’ve had a little thing for you ever since we started working together, but I didn’t want you to feel forced, or uncomfortable. I am your commander after all-yoi” “You’re kidding me” “No, I am not. I’m pretty sure the guys set me up on this blind date cause they knew and they were kind of annoying me to say something about it.”

You had to stop yourself from facepalming. “They set us both up worse than you think.” Marco tilted his head to the side and gave you a questioning look. “I have been crushing on you for weeks on end. I didn’t want to say something because I didn’t want to make things weird, and they offered me a date to give my mind some peace and quiet and possibly distract from you. They all knew about it.” Marco laughed out loud. “Then maybe it’s the two of us that are the fools.” “Maybe….can’t believe those three actually did a serious thing” you laughed a little, the noise dying out as you noticed Marco stepping closer to you. 

“How about we let them think they failed for a bit? Just until they’ve learned their lesson?” You nodded. “Well, does that mean I can’t hang out with you?” “Of course not. We work together, you have no choice,” he smiled, “and behind closed doors, we can do whatever. Only for a few days, just to make them feel a little bad.” He smiled as he took a final step in your direction, taking one of your hands and pulling you even closer. You could only breathlessly nod at his plan, too busy staring in his eyes to give a decent answer. “Then, before we get back… With your permission?” He leaned in close, still careful to not make you feel too uncomfortable, patient yet eager. You felt your heart swell at how considerate he was, and closed the gap, kissing him eagerly. 

The cold was temporarily forgotten, as well as the fact that you were in the middle of the street in the middle of the night, probably looking at least a little bit suspicious. You gave him a quick peck on the lips to seal the previous kiss right before you pulled away, giving him back his jacket. “An unsuccessful date doesn’t end in wearing each other’s clothes” you smiled. Marco put it back on, smiling back at you before you both started walking again towards to the ship. “Let’s not pretend for too long though, I don’t think I’ll always be able to wait for us to be alone after that kiss.”

[sgtrolandhills]

When I Look Into Your Candy Corn Eyes || Erin & Roland

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @corpse--diem & @sgtrolandhills SUMMARY: Erin brings lunch by the station for Sarge after learning he eats mostly Lean Cuisines. 

“Hi!” Erin chirped, greeting the young police officer at reception with the biggest smile she had to offer. Tried not to think about how it had taken a full ten minutes to muster the nerves to step foot into the station. Tried not to picture the very dead Dale she slid into the incinerator just last week. Would he be considered missing? No, no. Marley had taken care of that. Still, her eyes flashed to the bulletin board when she walked in. No familiar bald-headed fucks to be found. This was okay. Probably. She toned down the smile when the officer merely glanced up at her from their paperwork. “My name’s Erin Nichols—I’m just popping by to see Roland—Sergeant Roland. Sarge.” She swallowed. Smiled brightly once more, lifting the Tupperware container in her hands. “I brought him lunch. He’s not expecting me or anything but I thought it’d be nice to surprise him. He’s been eating a ton of Lean Cuisines lately, which are so bad for you, and—“ And this rookie stuck greeting the general public couldn’t have cared less. Erin stopped, nodded. Understandable. “Right. Is… uh, is he in?”

Lately, work had seemed to make Roland’s head spin more than it calmed him. This wasn’t a feeling he knew how to navigate. Burying himself in his work had always been his coping mechanism and something he’d genuinely enjoyed, but now, it just seemed to bring him more anguish than anything else. He’d always been so good at this and now here he was scrambling, letting another lead go cold. The mimes had come and gone with no real indication of why or who brought them here. The eyes seemed to be doing the same and it left him even more obsessed with the data in front of him. There had to be something he was missing. Another connection that he wasn’t quite making that would tie this all together and point him in the right direction. As he looked over all the different missing persons cases related to the eyes that had turned up in town, he let out a frustrated groan that was interrupted by his phone. “Sarge, you got a visitor at the front desk-- Erin Nichols?” His head tilted, a bit surprised. He remembered she offered to bring him lunch one of these days though he hadn’t actually expected her to follow through on that. He couldn’t fathom why she’d want to anyhow-- She couldn’t possibly be interested in him. She was leagues out of his league, but he could hardly turn her away. “Yeah, send her back.” He cleared his desk, to make the office a bit more tidy and stood to wait by the door. He waved as he saw her approaching. “Hey, Erin,” he extended his hand to shake hers, “It’s good to meet you in person. You really didn’t have to bring lunch. Does smell better than the Lean Cuisines though.”

Those initial nerves when Erin stepped into the building trickled back up her spine as she followed the officer past the cluster of desks, where more police officers were busy working. White Crest was a small town but there were more than she expected, though that made sense the more she thought about it. They were famous for few things, and one of those was their alarmingly high death rate. There was a reason the funeral home had one of the biggest fridges in all of Maine. When she finally saw Roland though, it was easy to brush those nerves off and return a warm smile. “Nice to meet you too, Roland,” she answered sincerely, shaking his hand with the one not holding the tupperware and utensils. She rolled her eyes and shook her head, waving him off. “Are you kidding? There’s literally no way I could sit around and let you keep putting that stuff into your body. And now you’ll have no excuse to ever touch that filth again.” She smiled wider at him, glancing past him and into his office, then back again. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

Roland reasoned with himself that perhaps taking an honest to god lunch break would do him some good. The more he stared over all the details of each seemingly insane case in front of him, the more it all bled together until he simply couldn’t make sense of it. Maybe a true rest from it would allow him to return to work with some clarity. At least he could hope for as much. Plus, Erin had come out of her way to bring him a nice meal which admittedly sounded much better than a Lean Cuisine Macaroni and Cheese. He realized that sounded sad and probably because it was. Everything had him feeling a bit down lately. He spent so much of his time dedicated to the job and he still couldn’t quite seem to get a grip on all his cases. “You know, I’d normally object to being someone’s charity case, but that smells way better than a Lean Cuisine. I might have to give that Hello Fresh thing a try,” he said jokingly as he reached out to take the tupperware container from her. At the mention of a bad time, he shook his head and responded, “Not at all. I think a break would do me well if you’d like to join. We’ve got a break room up the hall recently equipped with a new Keurig if you’d like a coffee after lunch.”

“Roland you are not a charity case,” Erin said with a roll of her eyes. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be.” She raised her brow, staring pointedly, but was relieved all the same when he took the tupperware container from her hands. “Trust me, it’s delicious,” she smirked, pulling out the two forks and plastic plates she had also brought with her. “I may or may not have tried a bite or three on the way here.” Helping herself to a seat, her grin grew brighter and she couldn’t help the chuckle that slipped from her at the mention of the Keurig coffee. “Oh wow, you sure know how to impress a lady, don’t you?” she teased, setting the plate and utensil out for them both. Her eyes were focused on Roland, but she couldn’t help but keep an ear out for the hustle and bustle of everyday life at the police station. The usual buzzwords filled her ears but nothing concrete she could latch onto just yet. “I wouldn’t call myself a chef, and the food came with pretty explicit instructions, so hopefully you think it’s as good as I do too.” She shot another smile his way. “Good enough to convince you to take some time out of your day to actually cook yourself something once in a while?”

He wasn’t a charity case. It was a relief to hear, but still left Roland feeling a little out of his element. Ever since the divorce, he found he was really off his game. “Well, I’m glad,” he responded with a sheepish grin, “It’s nice to have some real food and company.” It seemed a little surreal to him that there was a beautiful woman seemingly flirting with him and bringing him a nice lunch. The breakroom at WCPD wasn’t impressive by any means, but he hoped the new cushions he got for the chairs were comfortable enough. With an unsure chuckle, he responded, “I can hardly blame you. Smells so good, not sure I’d have been able to wait either.” He settled down in the seat across from her and opened up the tupperware container. Keurigs weren’t how he’d normally try to woo a woman, not that he’d done much wooing, but women liked coffee, right? He gave her an earnest grin. “Is coffee and chocolate not how you make women happy these days? I’m a bit out of practice.” Making light of his current lack of romantic skills seemed to ease some of his own tension. “You still had to make it. Worlds ahead of me and my Lean Cuisines.” He gestured jokingly toward the microwave. He took a bite of the steak and nodded, “Definitely good enough that I’ll try my own subscription out. It’s nice having something that tastes like real food. Were you good at cooking prior to trying these out?”

“Good food and good company is extremely underrated,” Erin smirked, pointedly eyeing Roland. She felt a little bad about all of this but being on the favorable side of the police sergeant felt like the right move here. Better company than the one she had in her head, at the very least. If she had to hear Fuck black and white cookies or Putain one more time, she was going to scream. She settled in across from him, digging into the small portion she’d served herself. “Coffee and chocolate are a great start. You’re not so bad at this, huh?” Alright. Good. He was picking up on what she was putting down here. “I better not even get a whiff of you going back to Lean Cuisines after this,” she pointed her fork at him teasingly. She shrugged, narrowing her brows. “I’ve always cooked a little, and just for myself really. So it tasted decent enough to me? But these things really helped me realize everything I was doing wrong,” she laughed, shaking her head. “I know I sound like a walking sponsor for these things but I’m not trying to get you to sign up for the free meals, I swear. I’ve always been an advocate for healthy eating. You have no idea how many heart attacks I see come through my doors on a weekly basis.” She raised a brow, then took another bite, chewing thoughtfully. “But I’ve gotta ask--have I officially converted you?”

“Doesn’t hurt when the company happens to be a beautiful woman,” Roland blurted out and his cheeks immediately turned a flushed shade of pink. Why had he just said that? And why was he still hungry for the heart of a frat boy? “I don’t know why I said that-- Not that you’re not. I mean you have to know you’re a good looking woman. I just hadn’t meant to say that. I don’t know what’s come over me lately.” He was embarrassed. Not that he was normally great with the ladies, but this odd voice in his head seemed to be extra throwing him off his game. “Noted. Any favorite coffee drinks or chocolates I should know about,” he responded playfully, fighting with his hand to stay on his side of the table. They were in the middle of the station and he refused to give into the impulse to touch her hair. Eyes but replace them with candy corn. He briefly imagined Erin with candy corn eyes. She would still be gorgeous. Why did he keep thinking this weird crap? He took a few more bites and enjoyed the proper steak. Lean Cuisine Salisbury Steak and Mac and Cheese had nothing on this. “Okay, okay, no more Lean Cuisines. I’m not much of a cook, but if they’re as easy as you say, I’m sure I can manage.” As if he couldn’t stop himself, he added, “As much as I’d love to be coming through your doors, I’d rather it not be because I had a heart attack.” He buried his face in his palms. Why did he keep saying these things? This wasn’t how he normally talked to women. “I’m so sorry. I don’t--” He was definitely blowing any chance he may have had. “I’m definitely signing up for one of these meal delivery services. This makes Lean Cuisines look like crap.”

Erin slowed her chewing as she watched poor Roland short circuit literally right before her eyes. Oh, this hurt. This was painful. Wherever her conscience had been hiding, he’d summoned it back into the light because she was already feeling terrible about this. She’d make a shitty full-time criminal. “It’s okay,” she laughed softly, shrugging. “I don’t mind hearing it sometimes. Especially not from you.” Oh, she was going to hell. She could feel the flames burning in her chest already. “You know, I’ve actually really been into cheese lately?” She raised a brow, partially at herself. That was all Kaden’s doing, of course. “Cheese and wine. I’m pretty sure it’s just a phase but I’ve gotta admit--it’s a pretty good one,” she smirked, taking another bite. Oh boy howdy, he was struggling. “How about this?” She propositioned, sitting up straighter in her seat, pointing her fork in his direction. “The first box you get, you can return the favor and make me lunch. That’s absolutely the only acceptable way I’ll let you into my house.”

What was going on with him, Roland couldn’t be sure. First, he had hallucinated a monster in an abandoned house and now he kept having strange thoughts that didn’t feel entirely his own in his head. They pushed him to do and say things he found to be uncharacteristic. Hardly the ideal state of mind to be in when talking to a beautiful woman who for whatever reason wasn’t running for the hills. Instead, she still seemed to be flirting with him and that prospect left a warm smile on his face. “Well, good. It’s true, you know. You’re a beautiful and witty woman,” he added on hoping that he wasn’t taking it too far. He was more rusty than he would have liked and it didn’t help that  he was out of sorts. Somehow she said she even enjoyed him being cheesy? Not that he was a bad looking man by any measure, but he wasn’t exactly Brad Pitt. Did women even still find Brad Pitt hot? He didn’t know. “Cheese and wine kick, I can get behind that. Any favorite kinds of cheese and wine?” At her suggestion of him bringing over a meal for her once he got his own subscription, a goofy grin etched its way across his face. “I think I can manage that one. Maybe I’ll even bring some of that wine and cheese you mentioned.”

From their brief online conversation, Erin hadn’t expected the Lean Cuisine lovin’ police sergeant of White Crest to be quite so… forward? But the confidence was there and it was a little impressive coming from a man who looked like he hadn’t had a real meal in weeks. “You’re pretty charming yourself, Sarge,” Erin smirked. Her eyes flitted up as someone walked by and there was something eerily familiar about them. “Fucking Gary,” she murmured to herself, though she wasn’t entirely sure why. The man just looked at her with a puzzled expression and she returned it with one very similar, though there was an underlying disdain there she couldn’t quite explain. “Sorry,” she glanced down at her nearly finished plate, narrowing her eyes at herself. “My favorite?” She shrugged. “I mean, a good comte always goes pretty good with a pinot noir, you know?” Hmm. It wasn’t entirely clear to her how she knew that, but she was confident she did. She finished up her food with one last bite, that guilt picking at her insides, subtly and quietly. “We should do this again though, seriously. It was really nice. I mean, I thought so, anyway.”

Somehow his being out of sorts and more forward than Roland would have ever dreamed of didn’t scare Erin off. In fact, it seemed she was still flirting with him and he couldn’t quite wrap his head around why. Ask her if she wants to make out rang in his head, but he stifled the unfamiliar thoughts this time. “Thanks,” he said instead though he became confused at the mention of Gary. His brow scrunched together and he mused, “I didn’t realize you knew Gary. Our other animal control officer isn’t his biggest fan either.” In all fairness, Gary seemed a bit more stable than Langley, but he wasn’t about to go there. “It’s fine,” he responded with a small chuckle. He’d find out what she had against Gary next time they saw each other. As he was walking her out, she did confirm she would in fact like to do this again. The smile on his face was hard to contain and he didn’t see a reason to bother. She mentioned something called comte and Roland had no idea whether that was cheese or wine, but he wasn’t about to give himself away on that. A quick internet search could get him up to speed so he could get Erin something she’d be happy with. “I’ll definitely have to keep an eye out for a nice comte and pinot noir.” To say he was beaming at the mention of doing this again would be an understatement. Erin was witty, smart, and undeniably gorgeous. And she wanted to spend more time with him. His confidence in the dating department hadn’t been the best post-divorce, but apparently his brief stroke of crazy forwardness had done him some favors. “Absolutely, I thought it was a nice time, too. I’ll talk to you soon and we can plan something.” He gave her a final wave and felt a newfound sense of excitement as he made his way back to this office.

[astertataricvs]

Sanemi Shinazugawa || Penitence Part 3

THE LAST PART OF PENITENCE!! THANK YOU FOR READING!

And thank you to my Lil sis @kimetsu-no-yaiba-headcanons for the letters! Luv u sissy! 💞💞

Word count: 2.6k+

"I'm sorry, Shinazugawa-san, your fiancé didn't make it. I'm sorry for your loss."

Those words... those words that were enough to make him fell down on his knees and tears streamed over his cheeks. He cried in anguish and scream at the top of his lungs upon discerning that you won't ever come home with him again and cuddle with you on the comfortable plain white bed in your shared apartment. Specifically, he won't feel the warmth of yours that you're always transmitting him.

He felt so cold, hollow, empty, lifeless and dead...

Sanemi cried nonstop at his loss and now that you're lastingly gone in his life. He still couldn't affirm that you're already gone, perfectly vanished in this world and your body was placed inside the coffin, underneath your tombstone.

His friends tried to console him but it was useless even his own brother, he let himself get drunk every single day and would often come home; thinking about your days together with him. He would found himself opening your closet and smell your clothes that give him the nostalgic scent that he surely yearned. He would only let himself cry until he fell asleep.

He blames himself for neglecting you, he blames himself every day that he's the reason why you passed away. His days were becoming miserable and he couldn't find himself smiling since you're the source of his own happiness. Now that you're gone, he doesn't know what to do anymore with his life. His supposed to be wife was now dead, you left him alone in this cruel world.

How dare he say that when he's the first one who left you and neglected you. He won't ever forgive himself.

His loved ones were slowly slipping away from his grasp. First, his family; his mom and siblings that he treasured and now... you whose the one who changed his life and gave him hope... all the source of why he's still fighting and keeping him alive... it already disappeared, it's now utterly gone, completely gone. So why is he still alive? You didn't deserve to die, he was supposed to be the one dead! Why it has to be you?!

"(Name)... I fucking missed you... I missed you so much..." he muttered between his breath while gripping his hair.

He won't see the warm smile of yours anymore.

Three months later...

Sanemi returned to his empty apartment and turned the lights on. He went to his room and decided to change his working clothes to something comfortable. After changing his attire, he took a seat on the bed and let his mind go somewhere else.

It's been three months since you passed away, and Sanemi was still mourning about his loss. Every night, he would always think about you and the what if's if you're still alive. It really made him depress for the whole two months considering he would steadily reminisce the memories you both have in this apartment.

Sanemi let out a bitter chuckle and buried his face on his palm.

He really misses your presence.

Sanemi's towel fell onto the carpeted floor. He bends his body to get the towel but, his eyes suddenly caught a box under the bed. Curiosity washed over him and instantly pick the mysterious box that was at the corner of the bed.

It was plain white and he doesn't know what's the content inside since it wasn't that heavy. Sanemi decided to open the box and his eyes detected neat tiny envelopes inside. His eyes suddenly went wide upon seeing your neat handwriting at the back of the envelope and it said: To Shinazugawa Sanemi.

Sanemi's heart leapt apprehending that it's a letter of yours to him. Taking the first letter, he unfolded the white paper and read the writings.

20th June XXXX

Dear Sanemi,

It's been about two months since you've started ignoring me, what's wrong? Are you stressed at work? Are the students giving you problems? Did Giyuu lecture you again?

Hehe~ I tried asking you in real life but you always either ignore me or tell me to shut up, I'm just really concerned about your well being okay? I am your fiancé after all, and I'm proud.

His heart throbbed inside his ribcage once he read the last paragraph. He remembers that day, the day when you're worried about him but he's just shrugging you off. He felt his heart clenched every time he remembers how he ignored you.

He takes the second letter and read it.

20th July XXXX

Dear Sanemi,

How are you? I hope work isn't stressing you out too much. And I've decided that I should write monthly letters to you! You just seem extremely stressed out/irritated by something lately so I thought this would be the best way to indirectly tell you my thoughts (if you even manage to find this box, that is.) Hehehe~

How's work? I'll slap Giyuu's ass for you if he's lecturing you again, don't hold me back like last time because of your jealousy again please~

Anyway, I know I might be overthinking everything.

But why is there always a faint scent of woman perfume on you whenever you come back home?

Don't worry, I'm not doubting you, just wondering. But hope you get well soon~

His lips tug upwards knowing that you surely trust him a lot despite that he doesn't deserve your trust at all. You never doubt him ever since. You're such an angel that was sent from above and wouldn't get mad at him.

Reading the second paragraph; a sincere chuckle escaped from his lips. You're already kind and adding to the list that you're entertaining too, how lucky he was to have someone like you? You really never fail to make him laugh.

20th August XXXX

Dear Sanemi,

These are going to turn into daily letters now because unfortunately for me, I don't have much time left and I really do hope you find these letters. Oh, wait, scratch that, you'd be too busy with your other woman to even give a shit about these meaningless letters.

Hey, tell me, why are you still staying with me?

Is it out of pity?

His eyes sagged and feel his heart stabbed because he revived again the time when you asked him why is he still staying with you although he's already seeing someone else.

The reason why he's still staying because he doesn't have the guts to leave you. He had the feeling of not wanting to leave you alone and your presence was making him feel reassured.

But now... it won't happen anymore.

21st August XXXX

Dear Sanemi,

Sorry, I was just in a bad mood yesterday, I honestly didn't mean to start cursing.

So, who is she and how did you guys become a thing? Just general curiousity~ Is she good at cooking? Does she make you your favourite dishes? She's prettier than me though, that's for sure. Does she make you happier? It seems like she does.

Y'know, you could've just told me you wanted someone else.

His heart shattered, he can feel the pain in the letter transferring to him. Why is he such a fucking asshole?

22nd August XXXX

Dear Sanemi,

Hey, do you remember that time? Both of us were laying on our bed, you were laying your head on my chest, listening to my heartbeat. Remember when you said you wanted us to create our own heartbeat? And that you would love and cherish the little heartbeat that we made together?

You have no idea how happy I felt.

He remembers it, he won't ever fucking forget that. If you're happy, then he feels the euphoria that time, you don't know how happy you make him feel every time you praise him and give him butterfly kisses. You don't know how he feels tingly inside whenever you cuddled with him and say sweet nothings to him.

He's so blessed to have such an angel like you in his life.

30th August XXXX

Dear Sanemi,

I most probably won't be able to write daily letters anymore because of my current condition, I did a blood test a few days ago and the doctor said that there was no way of saving me unless some miracle happens.

My muscle aches are getting worse and I've been coughing out more blood than I usually do.

A flow of lightning had flowed inside his brain; he reminisces the day when he just got home and saw you sitting on the ground while coughing. He didn't know that your fighting your illness with yourself and he didn't even do anything about it. He also didn't know that your coughing blood that day.

He's such a scumbag.

10th September XXXX

Dear Sanemi,

10th September, today was the day you had asked me to marry you. I wonder if you even bothered to remember though. I was planning on preparing you dinner and buying you a gift but what's the point? We aren't and most probably never will get married.

Please don't remind him anymore... he'll only cry again once he remembers that day. He blames himself for all the horrible things he had done to you, he couldn't forgive himself.

23rd September XXXX

Dear Sanemi,

Why do you refuse to tell me the reason as to why you're still staying with me? Why didn't you go out today? You usually go out when it's a Sunday.

Say, weren't you always the one to wipe my tears away? Why didn't you do that today? Was I really that much of a bother? You could've just said so.

Either way, none of that'll matter because the doctor said I'll most probably die soon, if I'm lucky, I get a week if I'm not I'll most probably just past this week.

Tears started to brim in his eyes as he read the letter.

He doesn't have any fucking idea that you're enduring this pain. He doesn't have any fucking idea that you're throbbing already and he's only adding it more!

24th September XXXX

Dear Sanemi,

Thank you for hugging me today, it's been a while since I've last felt your warmth. Since I probably won't be able to last until your birthday, I'll just give you an early birthday present ♡

You'll find a wrapped up present in one of my closet's drawers, you can throw it away if you want, I just thought I'd get you something before I pass.

Happy Early Birthday！

Droplets of tears started to pour onto the paper with your writings on it. The paper crumpled because of how tight he was gripping the letter. His eyes were shut as tears were slipping out from his eyes. He let the tears fall and feel the agony once again.

If he only knows that it will be the last day where he will able to see you, the last day of hearing you say I love you to him, the last day where he can feel your warmth, the last day where he can hug you, and the last day... where he can see your last warm smile again.

If only he knew, if only he knew... he wouldn't let you go and hug you as if it's the last day of Earth, he won't let you go in his arms and just stay with him. If he only knew...

Sanemi stood up and trudges to the drawers where your present to him was. Once he finds the wrapped present, he immediately ripped the wrapper and detected that it was a wristwatch that he was staring at in the mall when you two were shopping.

He pursed his lips into a thin line and bit his lower lip. He holds the present ever so tightly and cried in guilt.

"I love you so much, (Name)... you're already enough gift to me... you're already enough..."

Sanemi rummaged to your drawers and saw a pink box in the corner of your closet. He immediately took it and open the lid of the box.

Various pictures you both have were inside the box, it was full of your pictures together whenever you're on your date. All the pictures when you're still in high school and up to this year. The box also has the red and gold ribbon flower kanzashi that he brought for your birthday. He took the kanzashi in his hands and stared at it; retrieving the time how you would always use it on your hair and how beautiful you look while wearing it.

He really misses you a lot.

While he was looking at the pictures, he instantly noticed a silver peeking from the various pictures. Sanemi swiftly brushed the photos only to find the engagement ring he brought for you and the day when he asked your hand for marriage.

Taking it, he clutched it in his hand and closed his eyes. He feels so much distress that he couldn't handle it even if he wants to. All the memories that you both have been flashing back into his mind and the tears were pouring out unobstructedly once again.

He mourned about you, he feels so derelict to what he had done to you, he feels empty and broken inside. No one can ever heal the severe wound in his heart and you're the only one who can restore it again. But you're not alive anymore, you're already gone, you no longer exist in this world anymore.

He only clutched the ring in his hand and place it onto his chest where his heart was as if he was hugging it-- as if you're the one he's hugging this instant.

"I'm so sorry, (Name)... I fucking miss you so much..."

Sanemi was at the place where you and he first met and the place where you also confessed your love to him at that time. Reminiscing how you're being bashful of confessing your love and how your cheeks dusted in red hues, he can't help but chuckle at the nostalgic memories.

It was spring, a new season where the snow had finally thawed and cherry blossoms began to flower while its petals were dancing through the wind.

Under the cherry blossom tree of the school where you two have studied and where he was teaching right now... he stared at the beautiful cherry blossom tree swaying with the spring's young wind. A small smile formed on his lips while the engagement ring of yours was in his hand.

Sanemi kneeled and dig a hole where he can bury the ring you had left with him.

When he's done burying your ring, he stared at the ocean-like exquisite sky of the bright spring chill with a contented smile.

This is the place where it all began; the first meeting with you, the friendship, the confession, the romantic relationship, the acceptance... he wouldn't forget those treasured memories with you and he will forever engrave it into his mind.

He remembered what you have written on the photo where you accepted his proposal.

"You're my first and last love, Shinazugawa Sanemi."

Sanemi chuckled, "You're my first and last love too, (Name). You're the only one..."

"Shinazugawa-sensei! We need your help for this lesson!" Sanemi heard Tanjiro's call to which he snapped out from his deep trance.

"Yeah, I'm coming, brat!"

Sanemi takes a glimpse at the cherry blossom for a moment and slowly grinned. Once he's pleased with staring, he started to turn around and leave while hands were inside his pockets.

Sanemi concluded; a feeling of penitence will forever remain in his heart.

[modern-oedipus]

Update: I’ve been super sick ever since the morning. I think the stress piled up because I was super nauseous (and I... don’t even get nausea? Maybe I’ve thrown up once or twice within last 10 years and that’s it? So it’s extremely rare for me to get this bad?) and I had to skip my morning classes, then I dragged my ass to campus miserably on a terrible cold rain because I had to join biochemistry lab (labs are mandatory and if you miss one lab session you fail the lab), then I came back to home righf after, read a lil Falling for Your Voice and then just slept like the dead.

It’s around 9.30 pm now but I feel as if I was hit by a truck. On the bright side, maybe this was the decharge I needed, because I slept a lot and while my stomach still hurts I feel very rested, mentally and emotionally, which means I’m ready for the weekend in which we are going to study hard because we have three midterms ahead! I’m planning to reward myself with pizza and dessert tomorrow (definitely not today, I feel like my will to eat is back but I don’t want to risk it) and... get it done? Really.

There was an interesting encounter between me and my friends today. You know, college is college— it’s normal for people to have suicidal tendencies or make dark humor jokes at this point. By no means I think less of anyone, but one of my not-so-high-scoring friend jokingly said during the lab like, “I think I’m gonna kill myself on tuesday, there is so much going on.” and another friend of mine joined jokingly like, “Well, call me if you do, not to stop you but to die with you.” and I honestly thought of Dazai Osamu but anyway that’s not the point—

Another friend of mine, whom I briefly had a crush on in fact, approached from behind and joined halfway through the conversation asking what we are up to. Now this guy is a high scoring one and he’s kinda sweet and he multitasks many stuff and he usually does it well. So my other friend complained about how she was going to die (jokingly), and he just put his hands on my shoulder reassuringly, grinned at her, and said, “Well darlings, it means we are going to work a lot, get lil sleep, but also get this done!” and in that moment I noticed what a big difference the mindset can make.

Because that girl doesn’t believe in herself. She will just pass through but she will spend most of her time feeling sad instead of getting the work done (how do I know? Haha. Maybe I was like that too.) while he will just, get the work done, regardless. Both will suffer but in the end he will at least get a payback for his suffering? And the fact that he can say this smiling, with a non-sarcastic smile as well? So cute. I mean coUGHS that seriously gave me some motivation! I didn’t talk in that conversation I think, I was so blown by my realization of how important mindset is and also how he touched my shoulders but wow good shit.

I think I’m getting back. I won’t be too slow getting back to you all and getting back to my life but I won’t jump right away either because I still feel mildly in pain, which is a huge indication that it is me overworking myself.

Me and my friend had talked what we’d go out partying no matter what tonight but since I’m sick I cancelled that as well.

Also, I don’t know whether the authors of the fanfics will read this completely random diary-based post of mine until the end but honestly? Reading Falling for your voice calmed me down, like, I did try to write some of my fanfics but I was having extreme writer’s block and I couldn’t think of anything better than reading that cozy story (and also the author handles hurt/comfort so well? Unlike me who downright breaks the characters. I feel like I’m safe when I read the stories, which is so odd, but comforting), and also there is this nsfw-ish request of mine that was written sjfkvkdn and I kept thinking about Ray Grace smacking Norman’s fine butt and it is so hot and I’m so pleased and like. I also got COMMENTS like multiple COMMENTS on my fics aND alSO aaAaAAAaAAAAAaA Ari sent me?? Pics of?? Ray the perfection???? Of the perfect art?( and his ice cream???? AND THE FLOUR ON HIS CHEEKS?????? AND HIS SHY, UNCOMFORTABLE LOOK???? I JUST LOVE?? So much?????

As I said I’ll take things a lil slowly so I’m just making one big post about all updates today and getting individual replies back tomorrow. For now I need to eat (would u believe me, ME, the girl who lives for food hasn’t eaten anything except half a banana entire day) a bit, and then do biochemistry revision. It is cold outside, but somehow my heart feels so warm after my encounters with my friends and also from everything that happens on Tumblr.

Okay, this post doesn’t have a conclusion, but like... I really wanted to draw fanart for falling for your voive except I’m not an artist and I don’t know how to make Normie and Ray look nice. I know that’s not an excuse, I can just learn, but honestly, with this workload I can’t afford that yet. I don’t know. As I said, I am hesitant to go all way as I get myself back to life because I’m worried of another collapse, so this is enough for today. I apologize from everyone whose replies I delayed. Honestly, it is same on my irl messages too. I tend to not find the energy to reply back sometimes and these last two weeks were really some tough college life. Don’t ever take it personal! Anyway, complaining about past has a limit, I’m looking forward to revise my favorite class now! (Yes, biochemistry, haha. Though I only love it because I love the professor and the theory. Biochemistry labs are always so time consuming and I’d rather do something like bioinformatics if I chose a career. But still, biochemistry is all about understanding the life... it always mesmerizes me. I’m amazed.)

So stay safe and please don’t hesitate to message me even if I reply late! I really get this warm safe feeling when I am here, and, not detached. ❤️

Ah, enough talk, I feel like I’m talking to void since this isn’t a private message but I’ve written so far so I might as well post it.

Oh— one last thing! I seem to have a writer’s block! It is okay, I know it is temporary, but since I’m both short on time and not inspired, it is likely that there will be no updates this week! But after that I get two weeks free before finals so I may post! Maybe I update The Promised Wonderland, I like soft boi Norman having his innocent crushes, he is so cute, and pure, and I love these babies.

[thinkinboutkiribaku]

here's a summer fic i've been trying to write all summer... hope it’ll finish it before next autumn 

∗ˈ‧₊°∗ˈ‧₊°∗'summary :

"S- Sometimes, I remember the first time I saw you and my heart still beats really fast... You were so dazzling and I knew I wanted to be by your side all the time…", Kirishima seemed hesitant but his eyes appeared glowing. " And I.. I-I", he stuttered, scratching the back of his neck. "I think I'm the best one for you to be with… forever ?", as he said his last words, he lifted his deep gaze into his and god damn he looked even sweeter under the softened light, Katsuki wanted to kiss him violently right here right now. But he couldn't. Because those weren't Kirishima's words.

Reviewing your lines from the love scene of your show with you crush might definitely be a complicated idea, but Katsuki was in too deep for that shit already.

∗ˈ‧₊°∗ˈ‧₊°∗'Part I

"Aaaaaaand… cut! That's it ! We're good everyone, thanks for your hard work !"

"Get off' me, extra", Katsuki muttered as he shoved slightly the boy holding his arms.

Relaxing his position into a sitting one, he passed his hands through his sweaty bangs, sighing ; all the tension building within his shoulders finally lifting over. They've been rehearsing this scene for weeks now, moments of it even started to appear in Katsuki's nights ; swear to god if he had to spend one more day on it, he would have ended up exploding everything for real this time.

As he felt something cold leaking on his left eyelid, he removed his hand and saw through red drops falling on the ground ; fake blood leaking from the fake wound. Fuck, there might have been some in his hair too ; this was gonna be a pain in the ass to take off. But with the lack of sleep he had gotten the past few weeks, he already thought of himself as a walking dead. Now, at least he dug deeper the half dead vibes. He was pretty sure his skin looked green-ish already.

"Oy, Bakugou !"

Taken off from his dizzy thoughts and focus on his bloody hand, Katsuki grumbled as he got up. He didn't bother raising his gaze towards the excited voice that called after him, as he already knew to whom it belonged and that he most probably was wavering eagerly towards his attention. Didn't this fucker ever get embarrassed ? But as Katsuki finally landed his gaze on the boy, his wide smile beaming and igniting small sparkles inside him, he thought he didn't hate it that much.

"How diligent to come pick up your friend after school ; even though it's been a while you don't give up," a make-up intern beamed at Kirishima, who scratched the back of his neck for being praised. "Such a strong bond!"

"The fuck, he ain't picking me up, I can go home on fucking my own," Katsuki growled, violently grabbing the guardrail separating the set from the backstage where the two were standing.

"Your face's all bloody!" Kirishima exclaimed, his face illuminating and glitters sparkling his eyes, as he brought his face closer to Katsuki's, inspecting the fake but realistic blood.

Bright red eyes were glistening curiosity and interest so close to his face, Katsuki kinda wanted to squeeze his cheeks until he hurt a little.

"Don't come so close, fucker-" Katsuki muttered, shoving his hand on Kirishima's forehead, trying to pull him away so he wouldn't notice the slight heat coming from his cheeks.

"Oh, about that, Bakugou !", the girl bumped her fist in her hand, remembering something ; while Katsuki shoved Kirishima harder. "Haruka's ready to take the make-up and blood off your face, if you'd just-"

"Nah' I'll pass," he cut her, moving towards the space where all his belongings rested.

"You- You're gonna keep the blood and the rags clothes ?" she exclaimed, "are you even allowed-"

"I'm fucking tired and it's fucking night out there anyway", he grumbled already fed up with this conversation, as he put on an oversized black hoodie, covering his wrecked clothes.

"What'll you do if someone sees you though", Kirishima enquired, leaning his face on his arms, which were both laying on the guardrail, eyeing at Katsuki sideways with a cute face.

"I'll act as if I'm eating you, it'll scare them so much they'll fucking run for their life, the fuckers."

"Ehe, so manly!" the red boy chuckled, revealing his side pointy tooth. Katsuki zipped the high collar of his sweat so it'll hide the faint pink. "Ground zero sure is the best character for you!"

"Eh- too bad he fucking died." Katsuki blurted, as he took his backpack laying on the ground and made his way toward the exit, leaving Kirishima mouth hanging open for a few seconds before he caught up.

"You died ?? Wh- but you were the coolest !"

Kirishima ran to keep up next to Katsuki, putting his arms around the boy's shoulders. The blond boy could feel his warm breath panting upon his neck. Even though it was a definitely an intrusion past his personal space's limit ; Katsuki offering only rejection to any kind of closeness coming his way, Kirishima had always been an un-bothering exception.

As they kept on walking close-by under the dim light of the corridor, Katsuki validated his pass, allowing the massive depot door, exit of the studio, to open wide. A fresh breath of wind from outside blew from through their hair, and it smelled like sweet evening. Brush of pink and purple colors were disappearing in the dark of the sky, and the towering light of the faint sun and street light were already glowing increasingly.

"Come on, what do you mean you died! " Kirishima enquired, putting his face closer.

"Don't stick to me fucker, you're getting blood all over!" Katsuki snarled, violently putting his hands onto Kirishima's face but not pushing hard enough to repel the fucker.

"Did you get killed or did you manly sacrifice for yo teammates ?"

"The fuck Ground Zero would sacrifice for the other fucker's sake", Katsuki sneered,  "He was killed by the villains 'cause they couldn't enroll him with them or some shit, so he killed them off and their base exploded with him."

"Waaah, that's one manly move! " Kirishima exclaimed, glitters in his eyes as he slightly pulled Katsuki, "But you died… You're taking it more nicely than I thought."

"Huh, and what were you expecting then."

"Well, y'know, something like", Kirishima pulled apart his arms from Katsuki's neck to face him; both his brows now furrowed, and his upper lips pulled upward in a scornful scowl, " 'The fuck you're killing me hun??! I'm the one who'll kill you all! ' and then, y'know," just as soon as it came, Kirishima's angry-katsuki imitation disappeared to make way for his usual cute and somewhat naïve usual face, "Bo—oum!!" he mimicked explosions sounds, opening his palms wide, his mouth forming a big 'oh'.

At the sight of this, Katsuki felt his heart squeeze real hard as sparks started exploding all over his stomach ; who gave that fucker the right to be so cute ? There he was, looking at him like he was the coolest human being he ever saw, with his gleaming smile revealing his pointy tooth, those fond and passionate eyes of his ; they always seemed to be so earnest and passionate, Katsuki often lost his gaze into them. Under the increasing darkness, Kirishima radiated more than any stars and moon or street lights aligned.

Carefully, Katsuki put his hands on Kirishima's soft cheeks, not aware of anything as he was lost in that fiery gaze ; his skin felt so warm. The air around them seemed softer, and Katsuki wondered if it was just him feeling that way or if Kirishima felt that too.

"B-Bakugou ?" Kirishima sputtered; and without flinching, Katsuki followed his impulse and pinched Kirishima's cheeks.

"Dum---mbass," he let go of his reddening cheeks while Kirishima whined, massaging his pinkish face. As Katsuki accelerated his walking pace, he could feel a breath of wind brushing against the sticky of his skin and through his hair bangs. Even though it was darker than minutes before, the air still felt extremely soft ; there was barely anyone in the streets now except for some standing under fast & streets food's neons emblems.

"But like, if you 'died', then…" Kirishima started fidgeting, scratching his right cheek. "you like, won't film anymore… ?"

"Not really… I won't for now, but at some point I'll be back, pulling some 'brought from hell" shit by the villains or as a fucking vengeful ghost or some shit…"

"Waah ! That's so cool, you'd come back from the dead! " Kirishima's eyes twinkled, as if Katsuki was really going to come from hell and back.

"Yeah, ain't bad."

"But… Like… Until then ? That mean you won't have anything right ? "

"Well yeah, I guess."

Kirishima's smile became so wide and beaming Katsuki could see it from his peripherical vision even though the ambiance around them had darkened.

"So that means you'll be more at school with me then!"

Since he was just stating the obvious, Katsuki didn't bother answer anything ; which didn't seem to bother Kirishima in any way as they fell into a calm routine, walking closely besides each other, shoulders sometimes bumping with warmth. There was no need for words to convey the red hair feelings as he was radiating happy-puppy vibes, and Katsuki let himself getting enveloped in it. He kinda needed to recharge as he'd been in the low lately.

Usually, he'd alternate filming and school, with his studies actually taking the upper hand―his mother made a strong point that he should never let whatever success he'd gain interfere with actually getting an education. Which was kind of ironic as she was the one who dragged him around from the age of five to every casting, claiming loud enough for any fucker that could hear her son had talent. (Yet now she was the first to shout to his face he was too conceited.)

The last few years made place for more exception to her rule nevertheless, and the last few weeks were spend mostly at the studio, shooting the vibrant and stirring last moments of the only character with some kind of potential, from that super hero show he was playing in.

Now, Katsuki could finally go back into his old routine.

"Ah !" Kirishima exclaimed loudly, violently knocking his fist into his palm, bringing back Katsuki's attention. "There's this discount on the new tacos place that's gonna ends soon ; we've gotta go tomorrow !"

"Why the fuck didn't you go sooner if it's going to expire."

"Well, I was waiting to go with you," beaming smile had Katsuki's heart to squeeze a little. "Also, you're like, the only one I know that can hold spices that much and I wanna know if you can handle their 'spicy hell flames'."

"Of course I will, the fuck you're taking me for ! Bring it !"

"That's the manly spirit !" Kirishima exclaimed, gripping his arm around Katsuki's neck.

"Fucker, I told you you're getting blood everywhere !", Katsuki shoved his hand into his friend's face, but it held none of his voice's spite.

" T's okay, it'll match my hair anyway,"

"You're a weirdo,"

"Ehe, Mina said that too this morning in PE," Kirishima muffled his arm comfortably onto Katsuki's shoulder, "But really, it's Kaminari the real weirdo, hey I'll tell you-" he giggled before going on about his day at school.

Listening to his voice so close made the blood rushing through his ears but it wasn't displeasing. Rather, it felt kinda nice ; soothing.

As Kirishima went on and on about their friend squad useless shenanigans, Katsuki felt a knot forming inside his ribcage. Those were all moments he enjoyed spending with others than him and thinking about Kirishima being this close on a daily basis to other while he was away left a bitter sweet taste in Katsuki's tongue.

"-So really, it's Kaminari's fault we had to stand in the corridor y'know ?"

"Y'all both stupid", Katsuki mumbled over Kirishima's whines. "If you're not in class to take note for me then what the fuck do I hang out with you for."

"So rude ! Plus, who do you take me for, of course I've got you covered, bakubro ! I got Momo to lend me her perfect notes, ehe."

"Your smug face looks so fucking stupid, move", Katsuki shoved Kirishima's hand from his shoulder, "get yo' perfect notes ready, I'm coming to check in a bit.", he added before turning his keys inside his front gate.

Kirishima waved for a bit too long before Katsuki finally got to the entrance door and opened it ; he was welcomed by the enlighten corridor and a mixed scent of spicy boiling curry aromas his father was probably still making, considering the sound of the cooker hood. He didn't bother stopping to say "hi" and only made his appearance heard by slamming the door loudly, as he didn't want his old hag to bawl her eye out at him for going out covered in (fake) blood. Day already had been exhausting enough, thank fuck ; he'll deal with her and the wash machine another day.

The sky had finally darkened totally, offering a perfect star and constellation diffusion all over town that Katsuki noticed upon opening his window. Taking a short inhalation, he hopped onto the rail guard of his balcony and balanced himself towards the end of it ; where it met with Kirishima's balcony. He then jumped in, inviting himself inside Kirishima's room ; the door was already open for his sake.

Welcomed by the sound of water running, Katsuki put himself at ease under the kotatsu ; throwing on his way a wrapped curry tupperware and some notebooks on it. He only spent a few minutes on his phone before Kirishima showed up ; rubbing a towel upon his damp hair. Katsuki noted with an internal pout that Kirishima didn't come out chest naked.

"I thought you'd take more time with the fake blood and all," Kirishima smiled, before crouching under the kotatsu as well.

While the red hair was being busy taking all his books and notes off his red backpack, Katsuki was magnetized by the way water drops were making their way onto Kirishima's body lines. He looked less dumb and softer with his hair flat down, and Katsuki held the thought that he was the only one seeing Kirishima that intimately close to his angry heart. Just next to the thought that he couldn't see him as much as their other classmates.

"Soo, what you wanna review ? We did some more stuff in maths and-"

"Show me the notes Ponytail gave you", taking the notebook, Katsuki started browsing through the pages ; before opening their math book to the matching page before assigning exercises to work on.

Since middle school or something, it had become routine for Katsuki to review his missed classes together with Kirishima.

"Hey, how'd'you solve that equation ? Show me !"

Though study session usually ended up with Katsuki, somehow, being the one tutoring Kirishima as he didn't have any problem keeping up the study path. Even managing to be in the top 3 best of his class ‎―while Kirishima usually kept his grades floating around the middle.  

It felt comfortable being like this ; on week where he had a lot of shootings and couldn't do much else, these study sessions were his precious sanctuary. Katsuki never really felt hatred against his job, but he definitely hated missing Kirishima that much. These last few weeks especially had been really hard on him…

After a while of half-dozing and writing, Katsuki sighed as he furtively peeked a glance, letting his heart beat intensely at the cute sight of the red hair pouting, trying to solve his equations.

"Hey, let's do something else I'm tired."

"Wh- For real ? That's not like you ! Every time I ask for a cancellation you always say no."

"Fine, keep going then."

"Wha- no ! I'm all with you !", Kirishima closed his notebook over-excitedly, too eager to let such an opportunity slip. "What do you wanna do then ?"

"Let's just… watch a movie, or something. I don't care, I'm tired.", Katsuki scratched his neck, his cheeks softly pinkening as he eyed Kirishima's bed. He really didn't care about the activity, but watching a movie had the best chance resulting with him and Kirishima lying close in bed, and Katsuki really needed that warmth.

"Hehe, it feels just like when we were kid." Kirishima giggled and Katsuki could feel his ribcage moving next to his. Somewhere deep down in his heart, he felt like he was wronging Kirishima somehow ; using their friendship as a way to satisfy his definitely non-friendly feelings. Still, he crawled even deeper under the sheets. It was really deep deep down after all.

" 'S not bad."

∗ˈ‧₊°∗ˈ‧₊°∗'

part II

, part III,

[astorxa]

Merlin’s beard, what is ( ASTORIA GREENGRASS ) doing out at this hour? For a ( PUREBLOOD ) who is ( 16 ) years old, ( SHE ) really ought to know better. You know, I hear that they’re aligned with ( THE NEUTRALS ), but that could be just a rumor. I do know that they’re ( QUESTIONING ) and a ( SLYTHERIN ) student though. They’re very ( + DIPLOMATIC ) and ( + INTELLIGENT ) but also quite ( - ALOOF ) and ( - OVERTHINKING ), which could be why they remind of ( USING DISTRACTIONS TO PASS THE TIME, SWEEPING YOUR HAND ACROSS A RACK OF EXPENSIVE DRESSES, THE YEARNING FOR MORE, A KNOWLEDGE UNQUENCHED ). Some people say they’re the spitting image of ( SYDNEY PARK ), but I’ve never heard of them. 

CHARACTER INSPO: Astrid Leong ( Crazy Rich Asians ), Leila Keating ( All American ), Nancy Wheeler ( Stranger Things ), Laurel Castillo ( HTGAWM ), Peyton Charles ( iZombie ), Celeste Wright ( Big Little Lies ).

EXTRAS: pinterest 

ABOUT:

It was a particularly cold day in October, upon a house on a hill in Kent, Astoria Greengrass was born quietly, in the late evening. Even then, she came out of the womb easily without much fuss, the labor was short, she cried once and then not at all. Even from a young age, she displayed the traits of a perfect daughter -- quiet, non questioning ( outwardly ), intelligent, stoic, curious but not too curious ( yet ), poised, obedient. Halloween was just around the corner and the Greengrass’ showed off their new daughter at their annual O’Hallows Eve event, only a little over a week old, she was the apple of their eye. It was like she came into the world to be perfect, seemingly serene, lovely, good. The Greengrass’ while frustrated they couldn’t have any sons, settled for daughters who would make the family name a shining example in the Wizarding World and would make good matches when the time came, they just had to be groomed to get there. It didn’t take much grooming for Astoria to play the part, to become the part, to excel at it like she was born to do so -- much to their pleasure.

She was also kind, inquisitive, sneaky, knowing the more she obeyed the less they’d watch her. At a young age, even though she was younger than many of the pureblood children she hung out with, she was the maternal, caring, quiet, warm presence many of them lacked. A quiet warmth among them, trying to give them the love that none of them got by simply being there, being by their side. If you needed something, go to Astoria. If you wanted something done or needed someone to back you up and legitimize your hijinks, go to Astoria. The only time she deigned to stand up against the adults was in defense of her fellow purebloods, as she felt a camaraderie as well as a responsibility for them she couldn’t really explain. Perhaps, it was the fact that they all had similar upbringings, that they were all practically indoctrinated into a society after the First War that was dying. The Greengrass’s were a dying breed and she easily took on the role of diplomat, of perfect dutiful daughter. She didn’t know anything else even though she longed to.

By the time Astoria was 11, she knew society well. Praised in Witch Weekly as ‘One to Watch’, she made subtle waves within society, going back to her mother’s home in Singapore frequently to further integrate with Pureblood society internationally. The name Astoria Greengrass was known in Pureblood circles and by the time she sixteen, she was fairly popular within them. A perfect socialite, a perfect daughter, a perfect diplomat, she’d been groomed since birth and fit into the role perfectly.

EXCEPT. She wondered. In between the traveling, her parents started to be less lenient with her due to her just being the daughter they didn’t need to worry about ( not that they were the most attentive parents in the first place )  -- she slipped in between the cracks and saw a world that was more than what she was given. The hate they raised her with she realized was fear, which was then countered by her need to know, her curiosity that was once unthreatening, propelled her into muggle cities, into muggle books, muggle music. Of course, she never talked about it, with anyone. But she knew. In her mind, there was so much more than what she had and the longing for it started. A life long love affair with knowledge, never quenched but always thirsty, was born.

That’s when the distractions, the hobbies of sketching, drawing, baking, cooking, reading, became needs. Her mind reeled, her mind saw so much more and realized how her family was on the wrong side of history. Sure, she could enjoy the perks of living, she could enjoy her name & her reputation, the money, the privilege she had of being pureblood, but the morality of it all started to weigh on her heavily. The older she got, the more she read about the dead during the First War. The people her family had helped slaughtered ( at least, they were neutral/DE leaning -- by proxy their blood was on her hands ). The people her Ministry parents had let slide, the people who came in and out of their home who were objectively bad people. She baked, though she wasn’t the best. She painted, she sketched, she made clothing designs of ornate dresses, some of which were brought to fruition and many of which were actually worn by Astoria. Witch Weekly asked her when her clothing line was coming out and Astoria became motivated to actually make one. Not due to desire, but due to the guilt of her life weighing down on her more and more -- instead of doing something about it, standing up to her family, Merlin forbid betraying them, she fell deeper down the rabbit hole of her life. They wanted a clothing line of evening gowns? Astoria would deliver. Brands wanted her to wear their clothing? She did and made them her own. Astoria got better and better at living a life that she felt horrible living because what other option did she have?

Astoria was a true hatstall between Slytherin and Ravenclaw.  He saw she was a wonderer, someone who had an unsatisfied need to learn about everything, that she would soar if she was to be an eagle. The hat kept trying to convince her that Ravenclaw was where she belonged, after all she read books, practically soaked up knowledge like a dry sponge & valued it extremely — but being away from her family? Away from the big sister she loved with all her heart and soul, the people she grew up with? Astoria was a Greengrass, but more importantly she held her value of family above anything else. After a few minutes, the hat saw this, it realized that maybe she did belong in Slytherin after all and let her go. Green robes adorned her, and she joined the House of Snakes with a superficial smile. Because underneath all of that, she was nervous, that maybe she had made a mistake. This was something that she often wondered but was able to push it away for years, happy that she was with the people she loved.

The Hat wasn’t wrong in the end, Astoria Greengrass belonged in Slytherin even if she was a Ravenclaw. She didn’t just belong there because of her last name or her company, but because of cowardice born from self-preservation and the deep need to be loyal to her family, to be by her sister’s side, though not prominent in all Slytherin wizards, was in her veins. Doing the right thing seemed much worse than betrayal, saying something against what she was taught was practically betrayal, so she kept her mouth glued shut. Astoria seemingly turned a blind eye to the budding war around her ( even though that was very much not the case, which was worse ), following her sister dutifully as a Greengrass as a socialite, even if she would’ve rather been home reading many of the books she had collected ( even if some where muggle and not allowed, she hid them under her bed & floorboards ). At 16 almost 17 years old, she’s more conflicted but down the rabbit hole than ever -- a small line of designer gowns under her belt, Witch Weekly’s endless love & praise being named Witch Weekly’s Jr. Socialite Of The Year -- something that weighs heavy on her. Her parents are pleased but Astoria is finding it harder and harder to adorn herself with beautiful clothing and look in the mirror like she isn’t as guilty as the Death Eaters by simply standing idly by. "The darkest places in hell are reserved for those who maintain their neutrality in times of moral crisis. " Astoria thinks about this quote. Often.

Underneath the grace and demure demeanor is not someone you want to piss off. With a sharp tongue and a sharper mind, Astoria could easily tear someone down, pick someone apart, so observant and very wry, but she doesn’t. She doesn’t need to and realized at a young age that she would gain more with being adored & loved than being feared -- but it doesn’t mean she can’t. This distinction is important.  She bites her tongue, she swallows the blood, but it doesn’t mean she can’t draw it if necessary.

EXTRA FACTZ:

alright i’m gonna stop bc i usually write long intros and i’m trying to learn the art of brevity

ISFJ & libra

has a cat named asteria because she thought it was funny tbh

patronus: swan

none of that blood curse BS bc cursed child isnt valid in my house!!!!!!

boggart: her sister’s dead body which signifies letting her family down and the person she loves most down, losing her family as well

if u didn’t already know daphne is everything to her

plays piano and violin

loves the stars and star jewelry, she does kinda like astrology too

questions her gender v v deep down, doesn’t really acknowledge or talk about it and doesn’t feel there’s room to

knows she aint straight though and is cool with it

buy the stars by marina and the diamonds is her SONG

always looking good. always looking fresh. she dresses up that uniform with so much jewelry, she looks GOOD AT ALL TIMES and is always wearing some sort of jewelry. designer everything on hogsmeade weekends. like ur girl is looking fresh 2 DEATH

it’s astoria or ria, even then only a few people can call her ria. it’s astoria or bust lol! none of that tori shit!

is something of a wine expert?? she’s real posh tbh. she went to italy (1) time and was like wow i am cultivating a Love of Wine and has done so

[writingkeepsmewhole]

First Time

This is my entry for the Wheel Of Tropes Walking Dead Challenge created by the lovely @i-am-negan-trash If you enjoy  on point Negan in fics this you should go read her story Raise Hell. You won’t want to stop reading it trust me.

My Trope was First Time and my first thought was King Negan. So of course this is AU and not really in character for Negan. I tried to make him as much like the show as I could but I didn’t like it so I tweaked it a bit.

Reader is the daughter to King Rick, her marring Negan to grand a peace between the two nations. This is the tails of her first week being there.

NeganxReader

Warnings:Smut

It’s been two years since the dead arose and started walking the earth. No one knows why or how it happened. We only learned to fight and stay close to the kingdoms across the lands.

King Ezekiel to the west.

King Gregory to the east.

My father's kingdom to the south. King Rick.

Then to the north king Negan.

That’s where my family was headed now. The plague almost to hard for us to handle. I sat in the back of the carriage beside my brother. My father sitting across from us. I knew how hard it was for him to ask for help.

Our alliance with Ezekiel and Gregory was slipping. Are only choice was ask the north for help or be over run by the dead.

The whole ride there, father only told us to stay silent that he would do the talking.

I respected his wishes. Everyone knew the tails of the king of the north. A mad king with only a lust for power. Some say that’s why he was not just surviving this plague he was thriving in it.

Pulling in front the castle it’s structure towering over us. I pulled my hood over my hair shielding my face from the cold air whipping around us.

We followed a man named Simion into the building. I watched Carl look around his eyes bright with excitement where my father help his hand on his sword ready to fight if need be. It making me wonder how I looked.

My hands locked in front of me, my back straight but my head kept down keeping me from drawing attention to myself. My heart was pounding making my crosest seem much tighter than it was.

We entered the throne room letting me see the man himself. I was a bit taken back at the man sat in front of me. Rumors had him to be like a beast, gastly and hard to even look upon. Where I just saw a man. A handsome man at that.

He was tall with a strong build. His raven hair was pushed back out of his face letting his hazel eyes show. He had a nice salt and pepper beard covering his chin making him look older but not in a bad way. It made him look wise as if he knew a lot of things.

I let my eyes drift to the empty place beside him. Everyone knowing his wife died right before the plague started. It leaving him cruel and alone. Though it was no secret that he shared his bed with many woman. Some even claimed to be his mistresses but you never saw them at court.

“Well well, look who decides to finally visited. It is over do isn't?” Negan asks his voice bellowing throughout the throne room.

“I suppose it is.” Father says tightening his grip on his sword.

“What is it that grants me this rare visit?”

“I’ve come to talk about an alence.”

“The other kingdoms tell you of how my men protected them?” Negan asks pushing himself off the throne making him stand taller than I thought.

“In short yes.”

“Very well. Shall we speak terms?”

“I thought the terms would already be spoken. Them being the same you give the other kingdoms.”

“Why would I do that? Your fields are dying, the few heards you have are being thinned by the dead. You have little coin. What do you have to offer me?” Negan asks walking towards my father, him knowing he has the upper hand.

When his gaze meets mine I blush and quickly look away from him. First at the floor then once again at the thrones in front of me. Me knowing how weak a kingdom can be seen without and hier.

Negan could easily be over throne without one. If that happens then what would happen to my father's kingdom to my home. I quickly realize that this trip has been for nothing.

“We have weapons.” My father continues the conversation I have lost track of in my thoughts.

“My men have weapons.” Negan says smirking.

“Offer me something that I would gain with.”

“Me.” I say without thinking, the blood rushing to my cheeks when I realize what I have said.

“Y/N!” both my father and brother say shocked.

“Well I can see we finally have something to discuss.” Negan says smiling.

“Forgive my daughters loose tongue. She knows not what she says.” My father says throwing a glare my way.

“If I may be so bold father.” I say taking a half step from my brothers side.

“This would not only give you men to protect our people it would also make our kingdoms joined. Giving the people more space to grow and rebuild.” I say tightening my hands in front of me to keep them from shaking.

“Your daughter has a point.” Negan says stroking his beard.

“Sister are you sure this is what you want to do?” Carl asks softly touching my arm.

“It is.” I say my heart racing. It was too late to back down now. If I did I would make both me and my father look like a fool.

“Very well. If you wish it, it will be done.” Father says clenching his jaw.

“Lovely. Let us finish this agreement in the library shall we?” Negan smirks holding his arm out toward the hall.

“I will not leave my children unattended.” Father says.

“Oh yes of course. Simon.” Negan barks making me jump.

“Yes, your majesty?”

“Take these two on a tour of the castle.” He says smiling.

“Of course.” Simon nods and leads us away from my father and my may soon to be husband.

Once out of the room Carl grabs my arm stopping me.

“What do you think you are doing?” He asks his eyes ablaze.

“I’m thinking of our people. As should you.” I say calmly trying not to show my fear.

“You know what everyone says about him.”

“Yes. I also know what they say of father and they are rumors.”

“What if they are right?”

“Then I will make sacrifices for my family.” I say moving around him and continuing the tour without words between us again.

I barely remember anything about the tour. A garden here, a stone arch there nothing that distracted me from the thoughts dwelling in my head.

When we came to a large arch way and the sound of bellowing laughed filled my ears I looked up from my clenched hands.

At a large table was king Negan and my father. Negan was laughing at something but my father didn't seem amused in the slightest.

"Ah there she is my bride to be." Negan says holding his arms out towards me.

"So you made the deal then?" Carl asks.

My father only nodding and telling him they would be leaving tonight only to return in a weeks time for the wedding.

At that I felt blood rushing in my ears and my heart pounding. I would be married to a man I just met in only a week.

After lunch Negan sent my father and brother back home. Leaving me alone for the first time in my life.

I stayed outside in the cold wind to frightened to face my fiance.

I jumped when I felt something heavy and warm touch my shoulders.

"Be calm, I won't harm you." Negan's growing familiar voice said.

I looked down to see a black fur cloak wrapped around me. Looking at Negan I realized it was his own. His arms bare.

"Thank you." I say bowing my head.

"No need to thank me. I must take care of you. We will be married soon." He says smirking at me.

I only nod as a response.

"You are scared of me." he states.

"I... In some ways." I say seeing no point in lying.

"What makes you feel like that?"

"I've never been alone before. I've always had my father or brother beside me at all times. Now I find myself without them talking to a man I have only  heard terrible things about."

"Well, I'm sure some of those things are true." he says glancing at me.

He was right some of the rumors were true.

He used the dead as a defense, he ruthlessly when anyone broke his law, he was extremely cocky and powerful.

But something the rumors didn't tell was how he made sure everyone of his people where safe and had a job to do. How he would visit his people and play with the towns children. I'm sure even he wouldn't want people to know the way his eyes would soften when he would smile at me across the table in the mornings.

In the span of a week I had a mix of bittersweet feelings for the feared king.

But when father arrived looking more at ease. The news that they saved a village from being taken by the dead I used that as the strength to honor my word to Negan.

I was dressed simple, for a royal wedding but that I was thankful for. Negan picked out a long white dress and a corset. My hair had snowbells pined in it. A pale flower that flourished in cold weather.

I walked into the throne room it filled with faces I didn't know. The only ones familiar was my family standing at the front. Them giving me a smile as I stepped up next to Negan.

I could feel my heart race as he placed his hand on my back helping me up the small step.

It seemed like the walk down the aisle took hours but the wedding itself seemed to pass in a blink of an eye.

I stood there as Negan lifted up my veil only hearing the sound of blood rushing in my ears and my heart pounding. I closed my eyes when he touched my face. His hand large and rough but warm agents even my flushed cheeks.

Leaning towards me he smiles then softly brushes his lips across mine. I hold my breath as the first man to ever kiss me pulls me closer deepening the kiss. As soon as I relax he pulls away from me and smirks.

And just like that I was a married woman and a queen no less.

I knew the requirements for a married couple on their wedding night. I would have to lay with Negan in a room full of witnesses.

I had a knot in my stomach the whole wedding feast.

Feeling someone touch my back I quickly turned around to see Negan's hazel eyes.

"Hello wife." he says leaning around me to pick up a glass of wine.

I nod as my response fisting my dress.

"Relax. Enjoy the party.  Drink some wine." he says handing me the glass he just had to his lips.

Taking it I sip at it earning a chuckle from him.

"Your fathers not looking and no one will judge you in my court drink the barrel if you wish. Your my wife you'll want for nothing." he says softly stroking my cheek.

Taking a shaky breath I nod and smile I drink the glass.

The evening continued. I drank more it easing my thoughts and worries until Negan pressed his hand into my back.  Softly after my father and brother left Negan lead me back to his bed chambers a place I have yet to enter.

It was for the most part like my own. Yet the bed was larger and covered in black soft bedding.

Around the bed sat faces I didn't recognize. I don't know how long they were here but I didn't see them at the wedding or feast.

"Don't worry about them." Negan whispers in my ear as he unties my corset.

I feel my body flush and began to shake. As if sending this Negan leads me to the bed and helps me into it. After two handmaidens close the curtains around us I take a breath.

I jump when I feel large warm hands touch my face.

"relax it'll be better that way." Negan says moving closer to press his lips to mine.

This time he let's me kiss him back. Him slowly leading me on what to do.

I relax into his embrace feeling him softly push my sleeve off my shoulder. Kissing down my neck I close my eyes and tilt my head back my heart pounding.

"Relax. I'll stop if you want me to." he says looking up at me.

I shake my head no and place his hand on my breast. He smirks making me blush as he gently squeezed my breast. I bite my lip blushing.

Pulling me closer he kisses me again. I return it getting better at it. Sliding my dress down he bends to kiss my shoulders. I grab his arms when he  kisses the top of my nipple. Telling me to take a breath he takes my nipple into his mouth and sucks softly making me cry out. I blush at the pleasure and knowing that people can hear us.

Smiling at me he sucks my other nipple as he plays with the one that was just in his mouth.

I shiver feeling tingles shoot down into my lower belly.

Pulling away from me Negan pulls his shirt off.

"touch me." he says pulling me close and placing my hand on his chest.

I let my hand run down his chest feeling my blood rush through my veins.

As I touch him feeling the strength in his arms and chest he removes my dress.

I bite my lip blushing no longer touching him.

"don't worry love I won't hurt you.

pulling me under him he kisses down my neck once again sucking my nipples. I gasp when he  touches my sex. He gently caressed me while he kissed my skin.

I let out a sigh my whale body heating up.

I didn't know when he finished undressing but he was soon between my legs. Kissing me he moved to hiss my shoulder.

"Try to enjoy it I don't want to hurt you." He says as he pushes into me.

I bite my lip whimpering when I feel him tear threw my virtue.

He bends down to whisper sweet nothings in my ear. I at first don't know why he hasn't moved but I'm thankful for it when he does. The pain is leased still there but not as strong. He slowly moves his hips. I closed my eyes him softly touching my face.

"Look at me my queen. I don't want you to think of anything or anyone else when we are together. Only me." he smirks putting his hand between us.

When he touches me again this time it sends a shock threw me. Smirking he continues to rub me as he thrusts into me.

He goes slow seeming to know when to switch to something else when it becomes to stimulating.

When I feel my heart start to race and my stomach tighten he smirks at me as if he knows what's happening.

He kisses me again speeding up his efforts. I gasp as my body teases and an intense pleasure rushes through me.

"Did you enjoy that?" he asks softly rubbing my nipple with his thumb.

I nod blushing.

"I told you it would be better if you just relaxed." he smirks picking up the pace of his hips.

Soon his rhythm  becomes messing it followed by him twitching inside me. His warm seed filling my womb.

He smiles and softly kisses me as he pulls away from me. I tense at the sore feeling.

He pulls back the certain just enough to tell everyone that they can leave.

I jump when I hear them move and the door closes suddenly aware of that they heard everything knowing exactly what we were doing.

Leaving the certain closed Negan returns to my side.

"How are you?" he asks laying next to me.

"I'm alright thank you. "

"Good. Sleep tomorrow starts your first day as a ruler."

I nod doing what he asked.

I'm surprised when he pulls me closer to him and kisses my head his thumb rubbing my back.

I close my eyes thinking of everything that has happened to me in the past week.

First time going to a different kingdom. First time speaking for myself. First time getting engaged and married. First time being kissed and laid with. The first time I felt something for someone that wasn't my family.

I don't know how my life would be but I hope I continued to experience more first times as pleasant as this one.

[geminimoonbeamx]

Bucky Barnes x Plus size reader/ The Nutcracker

-Word count: 6k+ -A/N: Bucky and Reader start out the Christmas season righttttt lol -Warnings: NSFW, foot kink, y'all already know how dirty my mouth is so lots of cussing. But mostly this is just filled with Christmas cheer lol

The Holliday season was fully upon you; somehow September had turned into October and October to November, and then November had passed in complete blur. Where the fuck was time going?

You’d always been a “Holliday” person, growing up with your big family the last few months of the year we’re always a food fueled, dizzying experience. It had grown with you to adulthood, most years you would go back home to (y/h/t), to spend time with the family but on the occasions that you we’re working, like now, you’d still make due. Decorating and cooking we’re your vices, the evidence of your obsession with Pintrest showing clearly all over the living areas of the Tower.

A large Christmas tree stood tall in the center of the commons, spun with ribbons of gold and silver. Twinkling with Christmas lights and shiny bulbs, warming up the while room. Even if the tree hadn’t turned out so stunning(which would have never happened because you were an are a god damn perfectionist) the fact that the Avengers, the group of mercenaries and superhumans had helped you decorate it would be enough.

None of them we’re really in the Christmas spirit, kind of warn out and dragged by the consistency of having to save the planet and all the stress that came with it. It had taken a little bit of convincing, on your part.

“You guys are going to help me decorate this fucking tree and stop being whiny little fuck faces right now” You had demanded, your eyes stern as you looked them over. You know they’d had a long one, but you also knew that shit like this, team bonding, was so much more important then they realized “I am so serious, you know I cant reach the top! Help me!”

And they had, of course. Not wanting to “test your wrath”, but really you think it’s because secretly they we’re each craving some kind or normalcy. Like Wanda, who hadn’t celebrated the Holiday in the few years since her twin brother had been dead. Or Vision who had never celebrated at all, you know, since he used to be a computer and all that. Nat wasn’t hard to convince, especially after she got some of the spiked hot chocolate that Clint brewed up. Tony wasn’t as much of a scrooge as you though he would be, and even though he complained that he could have easily hired someone to do this. Pepper being by his side and handing him bulbs to hang helped. Bruce went along with the motions, drunk, his glasses slipping down his nose, Thor kept insisting that Christmas was just like some Asgaardian Holiday, and earth had obviously inherited it. Steve, Sam and Bucky we’re laughing about something, something Steve had brought up about Christmas in the 40’s, with warm mugs in their hands.

Was it kind of a mismatched, odd scene to behold? Most definitely. Wanda used her powers to decorate the top of the tree that no one could reach, Steve being so gentle with the delicate, glass, ornaments. Bucky…laughing. Really laughing. His eyes near absent of the shroud they usually carried. You had watched with a happy heavy chest.

That was a few of weeks ago, and you we’re still on your kick. Everyone more or less cooperating now. By force, or course.

You were currently sat at the long, glass dining room table, the one that was littered with a mess Christmas cookies of all kinds. Bowls of frosting, containers of sprinkles. Lila and Cooper, Clint’s kids, sat on either side of you and Wanda was across the table, Nathaniel in her lap as she helped the toddler frost a gingerbread man.

They’d come in from the farmhouse for the Holidays, which meant security was locked much tighter, but it was safer there for the time being anyway.

Forcing the kids to do fun Christmas with you was easy, and to be honest, they we’re kind of starting to ware you out. You’d taken them sledding just a half an hour earlier while the cookies were baking and were sure that you we’re sporting some nice bruises from it.

“Y/N!” Lila had obviously had too much sugar, her voice was vibrating. You just chuckle, amused. You we’re going to return her to her parents with a gnarly sugar high.

“Yes Lila?”

“What if we watch some Christmas movies after this? How the Grinch Stole Christmas is my favorite. Or we could watch Home Alone. Or Mickey’s Once Upon a Christmas, or Mickeys Twice Upon a Christmas?” She rambles this fast and you try to keep the amusement off your face.

“I hate how the Grinch Stole Christmas!” Cooper protests and you shoot him a look.

“Hey, kid, that’s a classic. Even if it does make me cry, you cant diss a golden Jim Carrey movie like that” You scold him, licking a small smear of frosting off your thumb.

“It makes you cry? Why?” Lila inquires and Wanda gives me a raised eyebrow “Yeah, why, Y/N? I don’t think I’ve ever heard of any one weeping to Dr. Seuss”

“Because the who’s people reject him and make him go all hermit in the mountains and its super fu-” you catch yourself and your dirty language “Its really sad, what that does to him. It turns his heart cold. People can be really mean- they tried to make him shave!” You explain, you had been crying to that movie for decades.

“But then Cindy helps him and be’s his friend so he moves back to Who-ville and re joins society” Lila points out, her voice obvious and informational.

You try to bite your laughter, meeting eyes with the brunette across the table who seems to be doing the same, Wanda presses her mouth to Nathaniels head in an attempt to hide her smile.

“Very good observation, Li’” You praise her “You could probably go into Psychology, put me out of a job”

“Don’t go putting ideas in her head, Y/N” Clint enters the kitchen, Steve and Bucky behind him. They’d been helping Bruce with an experiment down in the lab for the larger portion of the day.

You give Bucky a small, fond smile, your eyes seeking his.

“Why Clint? We all know the amount of therapy you need, an are going to need, why not have it in the family? It’d save you a lot of money” You tease the older archer, good natured. Clint could take it as well as he could dish it, and the banter between you guys was never ending “You’d give your dad a good discount, right?” You look to Lila who just grins mischievously and says she’d give him the FAIR price.

“I think you’ve been spending too much time with Y/N. You guys give her hell today?” Clint ruffles Coop’s hair as he sits at one of the empty seats.

“They we’re actually really well behaved, Connor even saved me when I almost broke my neck on the hill out back. My hero” You give Clints eldest son praise, patting his shoulder before you stand, not noticing the way his ears blush bright red at your words.

Bucky does though and he chuckles to himself quietly.

I know the feeling, kid, he thinks as you come up to him and give his cheek a kiss, your soft lips a stark contrast to the scruff there. His large, metal hand splays across your lower back. He wants to dip it under the sweater you have on, feel the plush skin there but he resists. For the children…and because Steve had been bitching about the extreme level of PDA the two of you had been sporting lately.

“Hey guys. How was your day helping Banner? You guys hungry?” You wonder, you had been busy all day, taking the kids off of Laura’s shoulders(That woman needed a month long nap) You hadn’t seen Bucky since morning.

“Boring, really, we just made sure he didn’t blow himself and the lab up. For hours. It was like watchin’ paint dry” Bucky drones down at you with a small little side grin “A lot less fun then yours. You need to be careful with that neck of yours, sweets” You roll your eyes at the flirt in his voice.

“It wasn’t that bad, he got the research he needed done” Steve, ever optimistic shrugs “Are those crinkles? Did you bake them Y/N? Holy smokes, I haven’t had one of those in years” He goes to the table, the cavity wonderland and you chuckle and lean more against Bucky.

“Yeah I did. Your welcome” You tease before looking up at Buck. The near foot he had on you always made you feel so small. He grins as you just stare up at him wordlessly, your big y/e/c glossy with admiration and exhausted. Your cheeks rosy with frost bite from playing outside for so many hours and your hair piled into a messy bun atop your head, long, escapee tendrils loose around your face.

“I missed you today, baby” You coo, reaching up on your UGG covered tip toes, your lips pursed for a kiss. He doesn’t make you beg, he never does, pecking your lips a few times, grinning as you attempt to deepen it.

“I missed you too, pretty girl. You have a fun time with the kids?” you nuzzle at his chin with your nose as he asks.

“I did, I mean ate shit all day and I’m probably going to be sore until New Years, but it was super fun fun. That hill on the property is killer” He snorts as the sentence is broken by a couple yawns. You really do look totally worn out.

“We’ll have to check it out, you tired doll?” He shoots you a knowing look and you shake your head, he reaches his hand up to brush the loose hair away from your forehead, behind your ear. It’s so tender it makes your stomach flip. You don’t think you’ll ever get over how caring this man is towards you.

“No I’m fine. I was going to watch some Christmas movies with the kids” You protest, weakly. Accented by another yawn. “Fuck”

“Y/N, I’ve got it from here. You go take a nap and we’ll start the marathon. You can join when you aren’t half dead anymore” Clint, who had overheard you from his place at the table overhears the two of you. He’d noticed how droopy your eyes we’re when he’d first walked in.

“Yeah, Y/N, we’ll even wait for you to watch The Grinch” Lila reassures, her voice solemn as though she’s promising you world peace or that (Your favorite football team) would win the Super Bowl next year. She really is the cutest fucking thing.

“Alright, I’ll be there. Keep the hot chocolate warm for me, kay?” You smile as you link your fingers with Bucky’s and go to pass the table, heading towards the elevators.

“Promise!” Lila chirps.

“Hey” Clint stops you as you near him and you raise your brows “Thanks for keeping them entertained today. I know they can be a handful, me and Laura really appreciate it”

You smile down at him shaking your head.

“Nah, they’re really good kids… plus I’m giving them back to you with a massive sugar high so should you really be thanking me?” You hear Bucky’s chuckle behind you and Clint rolls his eyes, chuckling gruffly.

“Yeah, yeah. Go get some beauty sleep. You need it”

“Your welcome” You chime as you turn your back, pausing only for a moment “And Steve you’d better not eat all of those crinkles, they’re for everyone!”

The super solder freezes, his fifth cookie inches from his mouth and a guilty look on his face.

Bucky snorts at the expression on his best friends face and leads you out of the kitchen by your hips. You really we’re a force to be reckoned with. Five feet of sass and ass.

You guess you hadn’t really realized how tired you we’re until you entered your room; the still, cozy atmosphere made your eyelids feel like they we’re weighed down and you drag yourself to the foot of your bed and plop down- hard. Bouncing a couple times on your butt from the force before sighing dramatically and throwing your head back on top of the comforter.

Bucky watches you with an amused smile as he closes the bedroom door behind him, locking it into place and padding into the carpeted room.

“Ugh I’m going to be so sore tomorrow” You say after a large yawn, stretching your arms over your head and extending like a cat. Assessing all of the pain. Your thighs screamed in protest, your neck felt stiff. Your feet though, they pulsed with your heart beat. You sit up slowly, groaning as you go.

“Fucking Jesus, my feet are killing me” it comes out whiny-er then you’d meant for it to “I know I’m being super annoying, sorry” you add, trying not to be that girlfriend. You know? That girly, needs to be babied one.

Little do you know, that’s one of Bucky’s favorite aspects of you. Your such an independent person, you bending and needing him, really needing him, always makes his stomach churn with excitement. He comes over, and kneels down in front of you.

“What are you doing?” You inquire, looking down at his head that was almost resting on your legging sheathed knees, but figure it out shortly as he yanks on your leg until you extend it, letting him take it into his lap. He nimbly wiggles off your sheepskin boot, freeing you fuzzy sock encapsulated foot, repeating the action with the other leg. You cant tear your gaze away from him, a small smile quirks on your lips as he looks up at you, holding your foot in his big hands.

“Jeeze your toes are freezing” He hisses, he can feel the cold of your skin radiate through the sock “You said your feet hurt, I thought I’d help you put with that, sugar”

“Mmm, thank you. But come on, lets get a little more comfortable. My ass is sliding off the bed” You laugh and pull at the collar of his shirt.

After some shifting of positions, the both of you cozying into the bed, you find yourself laying back against the pillows, your lower body agled so that your feet rest in Bucky’s- who’s now leaning against the wall- lap. He’s pulled off your fuzzy socks and his hands are working on kneading the aching flesh.

You groan, the sound is fucking sinfully sensual.

“Tell me what feels good, kay? Don’t be shy. I want to make sure you feel better” He persists, pinching a certain nerve on the top of your foot with his fingers that makes you hiss. “Too rough?”

“No, it feels so good. Like orgasmic good” You reassure and he grins, all teeth.

“If you came just from me rubbing your feet darlin’ I’d be a little impressed. I’m not gonna lie”

You bark out a laugh.

“I bet your head would get so big it would throw off the earths balance” You tease. You remember that one time he’d made you cum just from toying your clit outside your panties. The man had acted like he’d invented sliced bread.

Bucky chuckles and shakes his head, muttering something that sounded like “smart ass” before focusing on his work, listing to you talk idly.

Does Bucky have a foot kink? He’d never thought so. Yeah, it was nice when a dame had pretty hands and feet, but he’d never sought it out.

He absolutely loves your feet though. They’re so soft, so taken care of. You we’re the kind of woman who pampered herself, took care of herself, and it showed. Your lovely shaped toenails we’re painted a vibrant shade of cherry red and he cant stop stealing peeks at your cute, chubby little toes.

It goes on like this for a little over a half an hour.

“Did you tell Steve to invite Sharon to dinner on Saturday?” You question him, your eyes are now screwed shut as you lounge out. Just focusing on the movement of his tender hands.

“Mmhm” Bucky nods “He said he’d make sure to do that”

“I’ll probably just text her myself. You know gramps going to forget” You sigh. Scatter brained, busy ass ‘Captain America’ would forget his head if it wasn’t connected to his body. He was the embodiment of an old man. Hence your nickname.

“Nah, I doubt it. He has a real thing for that gal. He’ll call her”

“Good! I love her. She’s so badass and nice and hot! She’ll do him some good- fuuuuuck Bucky” You moan out the last park as he focuses his attention on your Achellies tendon and ankle. He smirks at his handy work.

“You know you can stop, right? You’ve been at it for a while” You don’t want to say those words, you want him to keep massaging you forever, but your a decent person and he’s been your slave for too long.

“I’m aware” Is his simple answer, as he continues. You sit up, pushing yourself onto your elbows so you can see him.

“I’m serious, baby. When you get tired just tell me”

“How long did you massage my back after that last mission. Two hours? Three? I don’t even remember. You’re always so good to me” you scoff but he continues “You are! So stop your fussin’ and let me take care of ya’ alright?” His tone is smooth like chocolate- but firm. In that way that makes you ache. Makes you want to spread your legs wide for him. Fuck yes, daddy. You loved when he got dominate like this.

“Alright, boo” You squeak and he raises your foot to his mouth and gives the top a kiss. You cant help the surprised giggle that escapes you.

“I love your feet” He declares and you raise an eyebrow.

“That so?” You struggle. Usaully you we’re turned off when guys tried to do the whole foot worship thing with you but something about the look in Bucky’s eyes makes your breathing hard. Everything about this man just turned you on to no end.

“Yeah it is. You keep 'em so pretty. Why’s everything about you so pretty, Y/N?”

You’d never really been with a man that complimented you like Bucky did. It had taken you a while…scratch that. You were still trying to get used to it. This beautiful, Adonis like man praised you like you we’re gods fucking gift. And the hot, sincere look in his eyes backed it. He loved every inch of you. Every cellulite, pudgy inch.

“I don’t know, I’m just blessed I guess” You tease obnoxiously. You weren’t one of those insecure types. Yeah, you had dark thoughts. Everyone did. But you loved yourself. Maybe even more then he did.

He laughs, it rumbles in his chest “Thanks for sharing those blessings, doll face”

You’re almost falling asleep, his skillful hands still working on you when you feel them raising higher and higher. Up your calves, the back of your knees, your thighs, the ones that part widely so that he can slide in between them. Bucky kneads the doughy flesh of your thighs smiling as you start to squirm a little bit.

“Tell me where you hurt” his voice is barley above a whisper. It’s gravely and sexy and it has you biting your lips together. You lift your hips for him as his hands begin to circle the waist band of your leggings, his fingertips tracing the elastic. A whimper slips through the bite you still have on your bottom lip.

“What, baby? Tell me” he taunts and you would be annoyed but you’ve been massaged into a pliant pile of goo. You’d probably do anything he asked you to at this point.

“Take 'em off. Please” you plead and he nods before he slides the black material down your curvy let’s, leaving you only in a pair of high waisted, leopard print panties. He loves these ones, loves the little hot pink bow on the center.

He presses his face against your chest, against the fuzzy material of your cashmere sweater and you lace your fingers through his hair, your claw like nails scratching his scalp soothingly. He lets out a long sigh at that. You know how good that makes him feel, how much he loves it when you play with his hair.

His big hands plane up along your thighs, one of his massive palms on each side, enjoying the supplness of your flesh and you tighten them around his waist, pulling his head deeper to your chest, your fingers knotting in his hair.

Fuck. You just want him closer.

He can’t help but smirk at the neediness, luckily his face is buried in your sweater “You’re such a sweet girl, ya’ know that?”

It’s funny. That he really thinks that. You had always been sharp- bitchy. Bossy. Your opinions too big and your mouth too loud.

“Only for you” you chuckle, your hand running flat along the locks of his hair, as though your petting him. He lifts his head, so that you’re eye level.

“No, I’m serious. What you’re doing for everyone, tryin’ to make sure we celebrate the holidays the right way- it’s really good of you darlin’. I know we’re not the easiest bunch either, when it comes to things like this… Being normal and all that”

You smile. And it’s so bright and warm that he feels his chest get a little tight.

“I mean if we’re being perfectly honest, it’s not completely selfless. I’ve always loved Christmas and I love you. And I’ve never been in love during Christmas time and as cheesy as it sounds I want our first one together to be a good one. Memorable. And normal and happy. Especially since the rest of our relationship is so, like, not. I want you to bake cookies with me, and do lame advant calendars and fuck me by the fireplace. You know. Normal stuff couples do in December ” You explain in a rant, your voice shy, as you stroke his prickly cheek with your finger.

You wish you could have taken a picture of the dopey, lopsided grin that stretches over his face.

“Is that why you’ve been putting mistletoe up everywhere? Trying to get lucky by the fireplace?” Leave it to him to tease you when you’d just bared your whole soul.

“Bucky!” You whine, laughing a little as your hands come up to cover your eyes and reddining cheeks and you start to squirm under him. He’s having none of that though, he presses his jean clad hips hardly down, pinning your lower body with his.

“Hey” he coo’s, trying to pull your hands away from your face with one of his, his other arm is supporting an little of his weight so he doesn’t totally crush you.

He chuckles at your “Fuck off, James!” but manages to pry your hands away from your eyes, his face hovering right over yours. So close that every breath you inhale, you can taste the one he had just exhaled.

“I want that too, darlin’. I haven’t celebrated Christmas in close to seventy years and I’ve gotta say, even though it isn’t actually until next week- this one already tops any one I’ve ever had” he tells you sincerely.

“How?” You scoff. All you’d done was force him to decorate a tree and eat his body weight in baked goods.

“'Cause I have you, of course” he looks down at you, his azure eyes soft and dancing and you shake your head.

“You’re such a big cheese. You know that, old man?” You cup his face in your hands, pressing your lips to his searing ones before he can reply. Bucky hums happily into the kiss, especially when your hands travel down his pack and tug at the hem of his shirt. He seperstes from you, only so that he can pull it off and toss it blindly across the room, your fingers hook in his jeans and boxers and he wiggles so they’re down his ass, once there you can pull them the rest of the way down with your feet. This is what the super soldier does. He can get you naked so fast that you don’t even realize until his sucking on your nipples, your head spinning because when had he even taken off your bra?

“Bucky” you whimper as he takes the bud between his teeth and yanks at it. Like he knows you love.

He’s feeling particularly dominat today, you can tell. Your sleepy, whiny mood bringing out the cocky, alpha nature in him that lied just under the surface.

When he pulls away from your chest that was now an angry red from the attention of his stubbily face he only says two words. “Hands and knees”

That sends a shock through your system. One that seems to cause your pussy to gush and your breath to catch.

You nod eagerly pushing on his shoulder with your dainty hand so that he rolls off of you. Giving you the room you need to get on all fours. Your head is pressed into the the duvet as you rest your chest on the bed, your elbows flat as you arch harshly so that your ass is perched high on your knees. Straight in the air.

Bucky takes a moment to appreciate the curve of your back, the intense arch. The way your plump ass is raised to high for him.

He makes his behind you way on his knees, groaning at the sight, had he ever seen a more perfect ass? So round and wide. Apple shaped and goregous. The kind that brought men of this generation to their knees.

He groans as he starts to palm the cheeks, pulling them apart, slapping them together. Making you gasp everytime. His fingers slip lower, rubbing past your puckered rosebud and into the the steaming, dripping folds.

“So wet” he mutters it almost to himself as his flesh fingers delve in, two of the stretching. Testing the waters.

Your keening sighs let him know that your more then ready so he grabs himself at the base and guides himself to your slick, relishing in how your scorching juices flow over his hardness.

You can’t take it, can’t take the way he’s rubbing his cock all over you without plunging in so to reach a hand down, under you, grasping at the top of his dick and leading him so that he lines up with your hole.

“Please Buck”

That’s all it takes, his hips snap forward and he bottoms out within you quick, you can’t help the yelp that leaves your throat.

Oh shit.

How is it everytime you do doggy you forget how huge he feels in this position? Like he’s going to rip you open. You feel like you can feel him in your belly button.

You might forget, but he doesn’t. He gives your tight little snatch a moment to adjust, his metal arm caressing soothingly down your back as he slowly pulls him self back. Barley able to, with the vice like grip your walls have on him.

“God damn, you’re so tight like this” he hisses through his teeth.

“I-it’s okay. It feels so good, I want it” you reassure him. Stuttering, mind shaky. When you move, your ass pushing back into his lap responds with another fast, snap of his hips and you cry into your pillows.

Bucky is by far FAR the best sex partner you’ve ever been with. He had this ability to play two roles at once.

Like right now; he was pounding you hard into the bed, his pace unforgiving and mind numbing and yet he still had the capacity to his fingers soothingly through your hair. To tell you how goregous you were. You didn’t even know what you were saying back, you’re thoughts lust laden and drugged by how good you felt.

“I love you” you sob to him, lifting your face from the pillows so that he could hear you and he makes a sound, a needy grunt before leaning down so that his chest is pressed into your back and his hands can link with yours.

“I love you too. My beautiful girl. Fuck- you take me so well. It’s like your pussy was made for me. I’ve never- shiiiiiit. Felt anything this good before” he husks into your hair, the slapping sounds of his body crashing into yours filling the air. You gasp, trying your hardest to suck in a full breath but you can’t. Your over heated body is on overdrive. Your core screaming from the fullness.

You desperately grasp at his hands as your legs began to shake violently with everyone of his thrusts, his weight pinning you, his arms caging you.

You try to speak, to tell him how close you were but all that you can manage are little squeaks, his powerful thrusts choking you everytime.

When you cum, it’s white hot and deafening. You can’t hear the loud scream that rips from your thoat. So loud, Bucky’s metal hand covers your mouth in an attempt to quiet you because you’re not the only two on this floor. Tears well in your eyes and your whole body quakes.

“Shh, shh baby you’re okay” he reassures, his pace becoming frantic and sloppy. Like a pool stick missing its cue.

Your head is spinning and you swear, you don’t know how you haven’t fainted yet. The squelching sound of him fucking your overstimulated cunt seemed to be the only thing you can focus on.

“I’m gonna cum” he braces you and you nod numbly.

“Cum inside me. Please Bucky” you plead in a sob and that’s it. He breaks. His head burying itself in your neck as you reach back to pull at his hair. His flesh hand is gripping your shoulder, his mechanical your waist. He’s holding himself as close as possible to you as he emptied inside of you, his sack flexing as the powerful creamy spurts paint your walls.

His gasps are in your ear, his hot breath in your hair. And you’ve never felt more connected to anyone in your life.

It goes on like that for nearly a solid minute, him coming viciously. His cum filling you to the point that it leaks out because your body just can’t take all the genetically modified super soldier has to give.

When he’s finally sated, finally catching his breath he rolls off you and your lungs fill with air. Neither of you can move for a moment, both of you are just trying to find a way to reboot your systems that had just been totally fried.

He manages to form a sentance before you can.

“Are you okay, doll?”

Of course it’s to check on you, because your still face down. You can’t help the giddy bubble of laughter that leaves you as you roll over on your back.

“Oh my god- that was insane” you tell him. Your eyes are still wild. Your breasts jiggling as you suck in labored breaths and run a hand through your hair, staring at the ceiling in total awe.

He’d fucked you stupid.

“I know” he chuckles at the look of total discombobulation on your features and slides his arm under your head, pulling you closer to him, needing the skin contact. “You told me that you wanted to have my babies, ya know”

Your head snaps to his laughing, shit eating face.

“Not-ugh no I didn’t” you deny. You know there had been a minute there where your brain had turned off from the pleasure but you totally didn’t remember saying anything of the sort.

“You did. You also told me that my dick was your favorite thing in this world and you wanted to die with it inside of you”

Your cheeks burn red and you bury your face in his chest because you can tell he’s not making it up.

“Oh my god” you laugh into his collar bone.

“It’s okay, it’s cute. I like watching ’ you lose it like that” he reassures, his metal fingers swirling on your soft tummy. It’s so soothing that you know you’re going to be out like a light soon.

“Hey y/n?” Bucky calls for you, right as you’re about to drift off.

“Mmhmm?”

“Just so ya’ know, I’m game for fuckin’ you by the fire place any day”

You roll your eyes and snuggle closer to him.

-okay so I don’t know how this got so filthy? I was just writing some Christmas fluff and then one thing lead to another and all the sudden the reader is getting drilled doggy style? I don’t even know what to say lol except enjoy I guess?

[displeasingaesthetic]

Yuri’s file

(I decoded Yuri’s file! Aaand I’m definitely late to the party..but, this is for all of those newer fans of ddlc who didn’t know how the hell to do this.. If you want to know how to find the story below it’s pretty much the simplest one to open: Open Yuri.chr in Notepad, copy all the Base64 code and paste it into a Base64 decoder, I used this one https://www.base64decode.org/ , click “decode” and you’re done! So this should be what you find.)

“If you found this note in a small wooden box with a heart on it, then *congratulations!* You are probably the first person to read this. I didn’t really plan on sharing this with anybody, but for some reason I think it’s exciting that somebody out there, a complete stranger, will come across this note and read my story. Someone I will never meet, sharing such a personal bond with me. I’m fascinated that either one of us could die - even as soon as tomorrow - with the other being completely clueless to the fact. To you, my entire life is within this note, and so I will live for as long as your memory can carry me. Writing this, I’m wondering if that makes you feel fascinated or violated. It’s so exciting.

I’m sorry if my story is a bit disorganized, but I’d like to get it down while it’s still fresh on my mind. First, I’ll tell you a little bit about myself. I’m a first-year college girl and have led, by most standards, a pretty unspectacular life up to this point. I grew up in an upper-middle class school district with decent teachers. I did track in middle school and some of high school, and I’ve had two boyfriends. Now, I’m studying for a career in occupational therapy, because I feel the field is undervalued and provides tremendous help to people.

I’m giving you this background because there’s this strange misconception that if you want to kill someone then you’re either sick in the head or you have anger management issues. But, it’s very apparent that I don’t fall into either of those categories. It’s true that most murder cases are in a domestic setting where someone loses control of their anger or something. But the thing is that those people kill under provocation, whether by a singular outburst or by a slow-burning series of misfortunes. Those people kill because in that brief moment, they want a specific someone, for a specific reason, to be hurt or killed.

What I’m talking about is wanting to kill someone for no specific reason, maybe just to see what it’s like. Do you ever get that? I wouldn’t know how others feel, because it’s not something I ever talked about. But I’ve been curious about what it’s like to kill someone ever since I was a child. Not killing anyone in particular, just a random person. It’s always just fascinated me that if I put my mind to it, I can approach anyone, and in five minutes they would be completely gone from this Earth.

But I’ve never done so for a couple of reasons. First of all, for most of my life it was logistically impossible for me to do it without getting caught. I only got my driver’s license a couple years ago, and even then, the preparations would take too much time, definitely stirring suspicion. It was only once I started college that I realized this was no longer an obstacle.

Another reason is that I was afraid of causing harm to too many people. You might laugh reading that, at how hypocritical it sounds. But, let me explain: Why should I feel bad about killing someone if they’re too dead to care? Who would I be feeling bad for? Contrarily, it’s the grief of the living that I’d rather not be responsible for. Because of this, I knew it would take a good deal of research before finding a suitable person to kill, and I’ve never had the means to do so - again, until I started college.

And now, having just experienced it, I’d say it was pretty satisfying in the end. Something I would try again? Probably not, since my curiosity has already been satisfied. It really wouldn’t be the same a second time.

But anyway, if by any chance you’re also curious to kill someone, then you’re welcome to take notes. :)

***

I started a hobby of people-watching soon after I entered college. People-watching is interesting to me because it’s taking one of the infinite extras in your life and turning them into a main character - without them knowing, of course. It’s so easy to forget that every single one of the hundreds of strangers you pass every day has a life story as deep and complex as your own. One thing I noticed about people-watching, and wanting to kill someone, is that you are in more constant awareness of this. When I find a person to observe, their story slowly becomes more clear to me over time, gaps being filled - it really is amazing.

I usually went to grocery stores on weekends and looked around in people’s shopping carts. If I saw something that interested me, I decided to observe the person for a little bit. Of course, since my goal was to find someone to kill, I ruled out anyone who had children or a partner with them. Wedding rings were another tell-tale sign.

So maybe once a weekend, I would find someone who fit my criteria, at which point I would follow them home and note their address. From there, it became incredibly easy to investigate a little bit more; most people have normal work hours, meaning I could spend afternoons going through their mail or looking around in their house. I repeated this with several people (and had one close call), but for varying reasons I didn’t really feel satisfied enough with them to kill any of them.

I started getting a bit impatient and thought that I might just settle for killing the man named Devon, even though I didn’t really want to kill someone wealthy. But then, I came across someone new - someone who just, felt perfect. The feeling only strengthened as I investigated her further, and I knew that she would be the one for me to kill.

A young-looking woman I met at the grocery store, as per usual. She was doing some light shopping with a basket. Her hair was wavy and dark brown, sitting inelegantly on her slumped shoulders and surrounding her tired-looking face. Her bare fingers told me she might be single, but beyond that, my gut was almost certain of it. This woman just seemed so…plain, really. I guess I felt a greater acuity for the personal lives of strangers ever since I started my people-watching. But the way she carried herself, I just got the feeling that if she suddenly died, nobody would be around to miss her. Of course, I still wanted to investigate her a bit.

I followed my usual routine of checking out her place during her work hours. I learned immediately from her mail that her name is Linda Watson. Linda lived in a quiet apartment complex, her mailbox easily accessible right outside her door. Instead of quickly shuffling through it, I decided I could take her mail back to my dorm and return it before she was finished with work (she only lived about 15 minutes from me). I did some research and learned how to open and reseal the envelopes without damaging them, which took some technique along with a hair dryer, rubbing alcohol, and Q-tips.

This made it easy for me to learn a little more about her. Linda was a 33-year-old woman who worked for a small accounting firm - I’d rather not name the place outright. Her birthday was December 11th which, coincidentally, was approaching in a couple weeks. I also managed to find a bank statement that gave me a nice look into how she’s been spending her past month. It was at this point I realized that my assessment of Linda Watson as an extremely plain woman was pretty spot-on, because there was absolutely nothing interesting on the list. A trip to Old Navy, a bunch of Starbucks, something about $40 from Amazon - no restaurants, no movies, nothing that would really imply she was spending any time socializing. That aside, I also found a cooking magazine, so I guess she was into cooking.

Apartments are harder to break into than suburban homes, because there are fewer doors and windows. Every time I got Linda’s mail, I would check the front door and the windows in the back, but they were always locked. This was a bit frustrating because I was really interested in getting into her house. So, I came up with a sort of plan that I thought would be fun, even if it didn’t work.

Last Saturday, I visited Linda Watson’s apartment complex as I would on weekdays. The difference is that this time, I wanted her to be home. I thought it would be interesting to have a conversation with her. If I got lucky, I could take advantage of the situation to discreetly unlock a window from the inside. So, I walked up to her door wearing nothing warmer than a light sweatshirt, and knocked. The adrenaline rush was crazy. I was afraid I might screw something up.

The door opened, and in front of me stood Linda Watson, exactly as I remembered her from the grocery store. It was at that moment, making eye contact for the first time, that I realized I was running the risk of beginning to care about this person. As selfish as it is, I couldn’t kill a person I cared about, even if it’s a 33-year-old woman standing in a doorway with a slightly perplexed look on her face, giving me a reserved “Hello.”

Arms crossed from the cold, I shyly returned Linda’s greeting. I explained that I was walking my dog near the woodsy area behind the back of her apartment, and that he had gotten away. I had been looking for my dog for an hour and was wondering if Linda may have seen him roaming about. Of course, Linda sympathetically apologized for the situation and that she couldn’t be of use to me, but that she would keep an eye out. I wore a defeated expression in response, apologizing in return for troubling her.

It somehow went exactly as I had hoped - Linda invited me inside to warm up a bit with some coffee. I outwardly hesitated before accepting her offer, although on the inside I wanted to jump through the door and hug her for cooperating so well. And that’s how Linda Watson ended up with a 19-year-old girl next to her on the couch - who knows if it was just a nice gesture or if she really has no better way to spend her Saturdays than talking to some kid she just met (who happens to be interested in killing her).

Linda soon learned that my name is Maria (it’s not) and that I attend the nearby community college (I don’t). I was a little bit nervous that she would ask me too many questions because I didn’t have many answers prepared. I was able to steer the conversation toward her, and she was pretty happy to talk. I asked what she does, and she told me that she works for the accounting firm I already knew about, communicating with outside clients and keeping records. I told her I was pretty nervous about growing up. She told me to enjoy college and to make lots of friends because there’s less opportunity once you start working.

When I asked if she was married or anything, she laughed. Of course I knew she wasn’t married, but I wanted to hear more about her love life. She said that she doesn’t currently have a boyfriend (I guess she’s at least had boyfriends, but who knows how long ago). When I asked her about kids, she said she doesn’t want them until she gets a better job. On top of that, she told me that her family has a history of some genetic diseases such as arthritis and depression, which she is afraid to give to her kids.

It’s funny that she mentioned that because when I asked to use her bathroom, I noticed a tube of prescription pills on the sink. It was labelled duloxetine, which I looked up later and discovered that it is in fact an antidepressant. I had a joking thought that maybe by killing her I’d be doing her a favor, but quickly decided I was a terrible person for coming up with that.

The rest of the visit was pretty dull. We talked about food and some other mundane stuff before I eventually made an excuse to leave. I didn’t get the chance to unlock a window or anything like that, but I didn’t really feel the need to go through her apartment anymore. As early as the drive back to my dorm, I was already thinking about how I would best like to kill Linda Watson.

The choice was between effectiveness and fun. I decided to go with fun, because it would be way more satisfying to kind of dissect her as I killed her, rather than just getting it done and calling it a day. Fast-forward one week to December 13th - today, actually. Linda Watson turned 34 two days ago. I made a fun little wager with myself where if Linda was spending her birthday weekend alone, I would pay her a visit and kill her. If she was out or had company, I would stop by next week or something instead.

So this morning, I drove over to Lowe’s and bought an axe. Again, I expect you’re laughing, but that’s also kind of the point. An axe is so kind of cliche and a “movies” thing that I actually thought it would be the most fun. Swinging it at someone and everything, it’s a really entertaining image. They actually had a bunch of different axes, so I picked one that had a good weight but was still light enough for me to swing quickly.

The drive after getting the axe was when the adrenaline really picked up. All that kept going through my mind on the way over was “Wow, I’m really doing this.” Not in a bad way, just like a surprised this is real life sort of thing. I also got this strange rush of recollections of the time I spent with Linda. It was like my life was flashing before my eyes, except it was just the rather mundane hour I spent with Linda - like snippets of our conversations, the sound of her laugh, her facial expressions and stuff.

I also wondered to myself what the crazy serial killers would be feeling at a time like this - schizophrenic delusions? Sexual buildup? I have no idea, but what I felt was kind of like ridiculously alert and numb in the senses at the same time, however that’s possible.

Before getting out of the car, I had the sense to stuff the axe into my backpack to look a little less ridiculous walking across the parking lot. The handle was sticking out, but that didn’t really matter. At that point my heart was pounding so hard I could feel my throat throbbing. I tried controlling my breath, but it’s really hard to not breathe fast when your heart is pounding like that.

I reached Linda Watson’s door and quietly put my ear to it after setting down my backpack. I heard a voice that wasn’t hers - company? No, it was just the TV, mixed with her occasional tapping footsteps behind the door. I actually kept my ear there for a really freaking long time, because I wanted to make absolutely sure nobody was over. Probably 10 minutes of that and a lot of reassuring myself convinced me.

I quietly opened my backpack zipper and held the axe in my hands. My fiercely shaking hands. What the hell was this kind of reaction that my body was making? I told my body to shut up, that it’s no big deal, but of course it wouldn’t listen. It was actually bizarre how much my hands were shaking. It must be the adrenaline buildup. I rolled my eyes at myself and got my hand to rest on the doorknob. If it’s locked, I’ll knock, it’ll be basically the same. I took a deep breath and forced my muscles into action.

I swiftly turned the doorknob. Not locked. In one movement, I opened up the door and slipped inside. Linda Watson, just a few steps away into the kitchen. I see - she was in the middle of cooking. She immediately jumped and turned around, startled. I expected that. Quickly, I let go of the doorknob and adjusted the axe into both hands. In the following split second, I realized that she would probably start to make a lot of noise. Looking back, I’m an idiot for not considering that. Just as Linda’s mouth opened to speak - maybe even started speaking - I forcefully swung my axe into the side of her head.

But, my axe was facing backwards. I hit her with the blunt end of the blade. I actually did this on purpose, because in that split second I somehow decided that it would be the way to keep her noise to a minimum. It actually worked. I felt barely any resistance in the swing as I collided with her head, knocking it clean aside. Linda’s half-formed syllable came out as a kind of weird grunt - a noisy exhalation is probably the best I could describe it. That happened at the same time as her head smacked into the cabinet from the force, and she fell backwards without any ability to keep her balance. I didn’t hesitate at all to keep swinging at her while she was half lying down on the ground, this time my axe facing the right way. I didn’t really know where to swing, so I kind of just started hacking at her collarbone area and chest. It didn’t feel like the axe was going too deep, but there was a nice “thunk” sort of sound every time the axe embedded into her. I even felt the soft sinking sensation ripple into my hands, like the axe was a kind of physical extension of my sense of touch.

On a whim, I swung once at her throat, but most of the swing actually missed and I hit the floor by accident, causing a loud, dull whack to resonate through the apartment. I didn’t have time to think about it. I swung again with better aim and got a more centered hit, feeling the bone or cartilage or whatever is in there, so I must have split it open. Right after that, I decided to swing at her face, and I got this diagonal cut along her nose and mouth, which felt pretty good so I did it once more.

I finally briefly stopped to survey the damage. Linda was bleeding ridiculously. The blood was kind of coming out in waves, in sync with her beating heart, probably. It was pooling all around her and riding along the cracks between the tiles. Her light blue shirt was all torn up and stained dark, kind of mixed with a fleshy mess around her chest. It was all just glistening red. Her face wasn’t much better, covered in dripping red at this point, and her lip was kind of hanging off, revealing red-stained teeth in a really weird way, like a zombie or something.

Linda wasn’t dead, though. Her limbs were kind of weakly, aimlessly trying to move while she was stuck on her back. More than anything, she reminded me of a bug that you crush but it still pitifully moves its legs around before it dies completely. That’s basically what she was doing. But I didn’t know how long it would take for her to die, or what kind of condition she was in. I ended up grabbing a big knife that was on the counter that she was using to cut up meat. Trying to step around the blood, I reached down and carved into the upper half of her neck, trying to sort of saw it from the left side to the right. It was a little awkward because the area was so soft and squished around the knife as I was cutting. But the sensation was completely different from the axe. It actually felt like I was cutting a tough piece of raw meat (which I guess technically, I was).

The blood started pouring out, and I hoped that I severed the most major arteries in there. It must have worked, because after a moment Linda’s limb movements kind of just had the strength drained from them, soon resting still on the floor. I took a few seconds to catch my breath. No time to stick around and think about the experience. I shook the knife blade through a dirty pan in the sink to clean off the blood, then threw the knife into my backpack. I did the same with the axe. I also took her laptop that was sitting on the counter. It had some recipe open for veal and mushrooms. I didn’t really take the laptop to use it, since I have a perfectly good one myself that I got for college. I just wanted to look through it for fun.

I finally went outside and closed the door behind me. I got some blood on my sweater and jeans. But funnily enough, I actually anticipated that so I wore dark colors.

The drive back to my dorm was just a constant replaying of the experience in my head. I guess that’s still kind of happening even now, actually. But it felt pretty nice. Linda Watson is dead. I kind of let the weight of that sink in. The sensation of having completely removed a human life from existence. It’s crazy. I don’t know how else to describe it.

Anyway, I threw the axe and knife into a dumpster on campus, which I think is picked up every Monday, so they’ll be gone by then. My roommate goes home on the weekends, so I have the dorm to myself today. It gave me the chance to go through Linda’s website history. I was right in thinking that’s where her deepest secrets would lie.

There was actually a lot of dirty stuff, like the names of websites for porn videos and stories and things like that. Same with her searches. A lot of the websites were boring, like cooking websites and recipes, and game websites like Bejeweled and stuff. I eventually got to the “one week ago” section of her history, and it gave me a chill.

There were a whole bunch of searches like “methods of suicide”, “how to tie a noose”, “dangerous household chemicals”, “carbon monoxide poisoning” - like a lot of them. She was probably ready to write a book on suicide after all the research she did. So I guess Linda was contemplating suicide. I wonder if it was influenced by her depression.

The irony is actually striking. Maybe Linda was going to die anyway. Or maybe she couldn’t find the courage to do it. If that were the case, I almost literally gave her a birthday present by killing her. That’s actually really comical in a messed-up way, and it leaves a weird taste in my mouth. The part I don’t get is that I didn’t see any of those searches up until the “one week ago” section, nothing more recent than that.

I ended up throwing the laptop in the dumpster with the other stuff. It’s been a few hours since then, so I’ve had some time to calmly think about everything. Like I said, it was pretty satisfying and I’m glad I finally got around to it. I feel like I can finally cross it off my bucket list, or like I’m tying loose ends with myself. This is probably the first and last time I’ll write the name Linda Watson - it’s back to living a normal college life, except I might do some people-watching every now and then because it’s definitely fun and interesting.

But I’ll always wonder how many people there are like me. I’m sure there has to be a lot, because there is just nothing strange about it to me, being curious about killing someone. Sadly, it’s something that people can’t exactly just talk about, so I guess I’ll never know. I’m sure that anyone would just lie about it even if you asked them. But you can’t help but wonder if that person in the grocery store, who stares at you as you pass by, might be considering what it would be like to kill you. If I could, I would tell them all about it, so they could decide for themselves.  But who knows, maybe I got lucky, and that person is you. I actually really, really hope so.

~♥”

[cherrystreet]

"should we just search romantic comedies on netflix and see what we find?" so, i totally come to you with every fic idea that pops into my head. but like, i reeeally need little snippets of the times harry and louis decide to put on netflix. like, after takeout arrives or for movie night with the lads or to pick a new show to watch because they just finished the office (us version this time). or even when they're bickering and get passive aggressive over what to watch for said movie night

This is a little different than what you wanted but that’s only because I don’t know how to write domestic pieces so I hope this is okay and ily xx

It didn’t start as a routine.

The first time it happened, it was a Tuesday night filled with too much homework, the October weather already too cold for Harry’s liking. The blinking cursor on a blank Word document seemed to be mocking him, laughing at his inability to form a cohesive thought after working nonstop for the past four hours. Eventually, he abandoned his endless string of papers, walking aimlessly around his apartment for the better part of an hour in an attempt to find something better than writing 5,000 words on Game Theory. Nothing jumped out at him, so he continued to shuffle around, sighing obnoxiously, until his roommate Sam hollered from the other room, “If you don’t cut it with those pathetic noises, I’m going to punch you in the throat.”

Harry frowned. “I’m not even being loud,” he yelled back.

“Shut up and do your homework.”

“But my brain is fried–”

“Harry, enough.”

“Ugh.” He kicked off his shoes and slumped down onto the couch, staring at the clock as the minute hand steadily ticked forward. Somehow, watching time was more appealing than reopening up his laptop and forcing himself to write another word.

Sam was right. Absolutely pathetic.

“What should I do?” he asked after a few minutes, eyes nearly glazed over.

“The fuck should I know,” Sam replied, finally appearing around the corner. “Go down to the Hub.”

“It’s too cold out for that. And it’s raining.”

“Order some food.”

“I don’t have any money on me.”

“Watch a movie.”

“Nothing good is on.”

“How would you even know?! The TV is off!”

Harry shrugged. “Gimme your Netflix password. Maybe new stuff has been added.”

“Will you finally stop talking?”

“Maybe.”

Sam reached for the remote to the TV. “Thank God.”

 It took about 17 minutes of “Chopped” for Harry to send out a text to everyone he could think of, a simple Come over. Everyone’s here. He didn’t want to sit alone, just wanted to unwind with the company of some friends. Sam was clearly no help, just kept yelling from his bedroom to keep the volume down, that “some people actually take their classes seriously, Harry.” And saying that everyone was already gathered together wasn’t technically a lie. Sam was there. And his fish. And the cast of “The Office,” currently streaming from the main TV in the living room.

Whatever. Semantics. People would be there shortly. People to talk to him and not tell him to shut up.

Twenty minutes later, Louis was standing in front of Harry, sweatpants too big and glasses smudged.

“Shut up,” he said, tugging on his hoodie strings. “What is this?!”

So much for that, Harry thought. “What?”

“You said people were here. It’s just you.”

“Is that so bad?”

“If I wanted to spend the night doing nothing and listening to someone drone on and on about nothing, I’d put on a Bob Ross special.”

Harry furrowed his brow. “Bob Ross is extremely talented…”

“Bob Ross is dead. And boring. And he never would have tricked me into coming here on a shitty Tuesday night under false pretenses.”

“I thought other people would show up!” He squished deeper into the couch cushions. “You gonna leave?”

Louis groaned and kicked Harry’s shoes out of the way as he climbed onto the couch beside him. “No. I came all the way here.”

“It’s, like, a nine minute walk…”

“Yeah, nine minutes in the wind and rain. You better have food as compensation. And why the fuck are you watching the British version of ‘The Office’? Why do you hate yourself? Give me the remote.”

Harry shook his head, standing up to grab snacks, wondering how constant abuse was the better alternative to staring idly at the wall.

The following Tuesday, Harry turned in his biochemistry assignment early, cracking his knuckles as soon as he his submit. It felt good to get rid of a week’s worth of studying, to not have to look at it anymore, and he slipped out of his jeans and into his most worn pair of pajama pants, the hole in the knee stretching with every wash. It didn’t take long for the couch to mold perfectly to his body, the apartment warm and quiet, Sam out for the evening. It was relaxing. It was welcoming. It was. Not what Harry wanted.

“Hey, I’ll order pizza,” he said through the phone’s receiver. “Dominos, if you want it.”

“I always want it,” Louis replied. “Cheap shot.”

“Pepperoni?”

“Ugh, Harry, can’t Steve Carell wait? We know what happens.”

“But it’s my favorite episode and I wanna watch you watch it.”

“I’ve seen it before.”

“I’ve never seen you watch it, though. Lou, they have a fucking benefit for rabies. Rabies. I need to see your face when Michael donates a giant check to a disease that’s already been cured.”

“Oh my God,” Louis snorted, but Harry could tell he was wearing him down. “Alright, whatever, fine, but make sure it’s extra cheese with the pepperoni.”

 Seven days later, Harry did much less arm twisting, just casually mentioning they were up to the start of season five. Louis texted back, Don’t start without me. I’ll know if you’re lying.

Harry sucked in his cheeks, smile worming its way out, anyway. Wouldn’t dream of it.

The last Tuesday of the month, Louis was knocking on Harry’s door without bothering to ask if he was busy. Harry let him in graciously, snacks already on the coffee table and blankets on the arm of the couch.

And just like that, Tuesday became Harry’s favorite day of the week.

It’s been five months since Harry and Louis created their non-date date night, and they’ve gone through nearly everything on the Netflix list that moderately sparks their interest. Comedies, dramas, documentaries, musicals… They’ve watched them all, not too picky, hunkering down together to enjoy a casual night of TV. And neither one of them got bored of it, never asking to cut the night short or go out to do something else. Harry loves having the time to unwind, loves the fact that he has something so comfortable to count on, loves Louis’ company more than just about anything.

And that’s why he snaps when Louis doesn’t show up on Tuesday night in late March, the Netflix home screen nearly burned onto Harry’s retinas, waiting for Louis to walk through the door and pick the movie. He taps his fingers along his thighs, annoyed, wondering where the hell he could be. Nine o’clock comes and goes, as does ten o’clock, and by 11:30, “The Holiday” playing quietly in the background, Harry is less angry and more concerned that something horrible has happened. Louis doesn’t answer his phone the second time Harry calls him, or the third, but he does by the ninth, beyond irritated when he picks up.

“Harry, what the fuck,” he says, his voice tight. There’s a lot of background noise but Harry can’t figure out where he might be. “You had better be fucking dying.”

Harry skims his finger along the frayed edge of the blanket, suddenly embarrassed. “No, but, like, where are you? Are you okay?”

“I’m at Ian’s. Is that why you called 100 times? Are you for real?”

“Why aren’t you here?” he says stupidly, his face hot. Who’s Ian? He hates him, regardless. “‘m watching Cameron Diaz try to seduce that hot British guy…”

“Jude Law?!”

“Yeah, him, and, like–”

“Harry, you called me nine times to talk to me about Jude Law.” It’s not a question.

“No,” he starts, “I didn’t. I called you nine times to ask why you stood me up.”

“Did we have plans?”

Harry looks down at his lap. “I mean, not verbal ones, but you always come here on Tuesdays and you’re not here now and–”

“Ian wanted to get a drink before he headed to Spain for the rest of the semester,” Louis says, cutting him off. “I didn’t think I needed to cancel a stupid friend hangout to do that. You’re kind of acting like a crazy boyfriend.”

“It’s not stupid and that’s not…” He starts to argue, but stops himself short, his heart racing in his chest. He knows he’s being irrationally angry and insane and, well, idiotically jealous, and now that Louis’ had to go ahead and say the B word, it’s ricocheting through his brain like live wire, sparking and hot. The thing is, they’re not boyfriends, because that’s not a line they’ve ever crossed, but just about everything they do - Tuesdays and otherwise - might argue that fact. They meet each other after class for coffee, they call each other on Sunday mornings, they spend school breaks at each other’s homes. Harry carries Louis’ backpack, Louis buys Harry dinner, they steal one another’s clothing… They share a fucking blanket on Harry’s Goddamn couch every single week, their knees brushing together, sending shocks up Harry’s spine, Harry unable to stop himself from stealing a series of unsubtle glances at Louis’ profile, his cheekbones, his lips. Fuck. His temple throbs and he does his best to swallow around the lump in his throat. Boyfriend. “Okay, yeah, you’re right, I’m sorry,” he chokes out.

Louis breathes through the phone for a beat too long. “I’m safe. I wasn’t kidnapped. I just… We’ll hang out later, alright?”

He doesn’t sound angry anymore, but Harry feels too antsy to keep talking. “Yeah, later. Bon voyage to Ian. I’ll see you this weekend or something.”

“Okay,” he replies. “Or something.”

Harry hangs up the phone with a thousand words on the tip of his tongue, but he swallows every single one of them and wills himself to stop thinking about the fact that he’s gone and lost his mind over his best friend spending the night out with a guy who isn’t him. He should be here on this couch, thigh pressed up against Harry’s, and this is not the way it was supposed to go. None of it was.

He must doze off at some point, because the next thing he knows, there’s a bang on the door, followed by a tinny voice mumbling, “Please let me in. I’m tired and cold.”

Harry flicks on the hallway light and pulls open the door as quickly as his body will allow himself to, finding himself face to face with a pink-cheeked Louis. “Lou, it’s…” He looks over at the clock. “Two in the morning.”

Louis shrugs, worming his way inside. “Yeah, well. I’m two hours late for our date. Sorry about that. You still watching ‘The Holiday’?”

He bites back his smile, body feeling like it’s deflating. “Finished it earlier. Should we just search romantic comedies on Netflix and see what we find?”

“That… Sounds like the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”

Harry snorts, closing the door behind him and follows Louis into the living room. Louis’ already making himself comfortable on the couch, yawning. “Then what do you suggest?”

“We haven’t checked out the horror genre in a while.”

“Yeah, for a reason.” He sits beside Louis, lets Louis drape his legs across his lap. Like a magnet, his hand immediately goes to grip Louis’ ankle. “I get nightmares.”

Louis looks up at him from under his lashes, blinking slower than usual, and it makes Harry’s stomach twist. Maybe he’s tired. Maybe it’s something else. “Big baby.”

“Yeah,” he says, smirking, thumb drawing circles across Louis’ skin. “That’s me.”

Neither of them say anything else, nor do they move, and Harry’s trying to find something to say that isn’t something clicked for me tonight, but Louis speaks first, licking his lips.

“Sorry I stood you up,” he says softly, grabbing for the remote and selecting the first title on the menu, not looking at Harry. “I was a dick about it.”

Harry shrugs, inching his way closer, watching the way the screen’s colors dances across Louis’ face. “It’s alright. Just missed you.”

He can actually hear Louis swallow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Louis nods, biting at his bottom lip. He’s nervous. Harry exhales once he notices. “Can I stay over tonight?”

Harry isn’t sure what the implications are behind his question, or why Louis’ bothering to ask when he’s never asked before - usually just passes out on the couch or on Harry’s bed, curling up into a ball on the edge of the mattress - but it’s clear something has changed, based on the way Louis is looking up at him. He’s never looked at Harry like that before.

“Yeah,” Harry murmurs, “Lou, whatever you want.”

He doesn’t remember closing his eyes, doesn’t remember leaning in, but then there’s just breath between them, and then not even that, just skin on skin, warm and sweet and entirely too perfect. And Harry has no idea what’s playing on the screen in front of them, but it’s decidedly his new favorite film.

[liliesofpur-i-ty]

the death-obsessed old woman’s monologue in Mouchette, by Georges Bernanos, translated by J. C. Whitehouse

     ‘Mouchette, I’ll go and watch over your mother tonight,’ she said.

     Mouchette had cut off sharply to the right to avoid the café, whose doors were now wide open, and had found herself face to face with the sacristine.      ‘If you want to. Do as you like,’ she said unsteadily.      The pale blue eyes, irresistibly curious and compassionate, stared at her with a look of strange complicity.      ‘Come on in,’ said the old woman softly.      Mouchette did as she was told, simply because she felt she could go on no longer. She dropped into a chair by the empty hearth. The carefully-cleaned tiles smelled of polish and sour apples. In the ebony-coloured oak of the cupboard she could faintly see the reflection of her own face.      The old woman had sat down silently opposite her. The clock with a bronze cock perched on its top, was ticking slowly and dully, each fall of the copper pendulum casting a brief reflection on the wall. For a time Mouchette struggled against the heavy silence. It was too late. She felt as if an invisible cloth were covering her face and shoulders. The illusion was so strong that she seemed to be making an immense effort to thrust it off, but she was unable to move. Just as she abandoned the effort and yielded herself to the sensation she heard the old woman’s voice again. She seemed to be finishing a sentence which she had already started.      ‘You’re a little upset. Take things gently for a time, my dear. Stay here.’      ‘No,’ said Mouchette. ‘I’ve got to get back.’      The strange silence fell again, but this time Mouchette made no effort to break it. She slipped into it with an almost physical delight.      ‘You were going to do something wrong,’ the old woman went on. ‘There’s something in your eyes. When you went past the house this morning, I thought “that girl’s up to no good”.’      Silence. Mouchette followed the ticking of the clock with a strange new pleasure, for her dreaming was rarely as disconnected and sleep-like as this. It was so disconnected that she saw nothing clearly and distinctly, but was rather only aware of the extreme slowness of the rhythm of her thoughts. Her state was like that which precedes all deep rest, between wakefulness and sleep, scarcely a part of life.      ‘I’ve been thinking about you for months,’ the old lady continued. ‘Isn’t it strange? And I know you well. It all started only one day last summer. Do you remember? I gave you a green apple.’      Mouchette remembered, but did not give any sign of doing so. She had never trusted anyone -- in the exact sense of the word -- and the urge which had carried her a few hours ago to her mother’s bedside was the only one of its kind she had ever felt. She somehow knew that it would be the last, and that some mysterious instinct in her had died at its first expression.      Her secret was not one which could be shared, for it was connected with so many different things. It was like one of those sickly-looking plants which bring up, when one tries to uproot them, the lump of earth which has sustained them. Yet she could make no effort to escape from the strange, delicious languor which filled her and seemed to be weaving around her, diligently and patiently, the threads of some invisible design.      ‘I didn’t say anything earlier, because it was too soon. Everything comes in its own good time. Why try to stop a horse when he’s kicking and biting? When he’s tired and he’s had enough, that’s when you speak quietly to him and put the bridle on. There aren’t many animals or many people who can resist a gentle word when it’s needed. But people talk too much. They talk and talk so much that when the time comes there’s nothing left in their words. They’re like the dust you raise when you’re winnowing grain.’      She went over to the cupboard and opened it. A faint, warm scent of verbana filled the room. From top to bottom the cupboard was full of white linen, imperceptibly golden in the gleam of the centuries-old polished wood. It seemed, in the darkened room with its one window with drawn curtains, another source of incredibly soft light. What woman of Mouchette’s class had never dreamed of such a treasure? At any other time her bewildered admiration would soon have changed to anger, but now she was too exhausted. As she caught the delicate perfume, she seemed to feel the caressing coolness of the gleaming sheets on her hands.     ‘On the day of your mother’s death you can’t go home like that. Today is a special day and you must honour it. Believe me, my dear, it’s an important day. Have you ever thought about death?’      Mouchette did not reply. Her gaze was still drawn towards the cupboard. Suddenly the idea of death was confused with the image of the piles of immaculate sheets.      ‘I understand death,’ the old woman went confidingly on. ‘I understand the dead too. When I was your age I was afraid of them. Now I talk to them -- in a manner of speaking -- and they answer me. It’s like a murmur, a little whisper, that seems to come from the depths of the earth.      ‘I told the curé about it one day. He scolded me. He thinks the dead are in heaven. I don’t want to contradict him, you know, but I stick to my own ideas. They say that once people used to adore the dead, that they were gods. I think that must have been the true religion, don’t you? You think that the dead don’t smell nice. I know. When cider’s boiling, it smells like a wet cow-stall. Death’s like cider -- it’s got to throw off its scum.’      She trotted to the far end of the room and put down on the bed a bulky parcel carefully rolled in cloth.      ‘If I said what I think’ (putting the pins between her teeth as she pulled them out), ‘people would laugh at me. You too . . . you know that on any other day you’d be pulling faces already. But today your heart’s asleep. Don’t try to waken it too quickly, my dear. They’re the best moments of life. I can’t do anything for people who’re too wide awake. There’s too much bad in them. You might just as well put your hand in a badger’s hole. When you passed by this morning, just remember, you stopped a minute in the middle of the road. Your whole face was asleep, apart from your eyes. When you came back, your eyes were asleep too. What’s the good of waking her, I thought. Hasn’t she had enough unhappiness already?’      She whispered these last words into Mouchette’s ear. Mouchette slowly looked up.      ‘I know you understand.’ Her wrinkled cheeks coloured. ‘I suppose you haven’t even a sheet at home to wind her in? It hurts me to see how they look after their dead here. Before Jesus came, they used to embalm them with perfumes -- spices, they called them -- it cost a fortune. And now they don’t even wash them. Even the Marquis had a week’s beard and dirty nails. If they dared, my dear, they’d put them in their coffins straightaway, and the curé would back them up. What’s he want to walk round the coffin for, with his holy water and incense! He just thinks the body is something to get rid of, like an empty bag. You should treat a dead person better than a sweetheart and be nice to it and spoil it before it goes off to purify itself under the ground.’      Her faded eyes gleamed bright blue. Mouchette gazed at her in amazement. It was clear that the old woman was lost in her own mysterious memories. In her voice, her features and her fixed smile there was a kind of frightful innocence.      ‘I’ll bring one of my sheets, my very best one. We’ll wrap her together, my dear. I’ll do that for you because you’re listening to me without laughing.      ‘I come from somewhere you’ve never heard of, in the mountains. In my village, once autumn was past, you didn’t see the sun any more. It came up one side and set on the other and never got high enough for you to see its silly face. In winter, the ground was frozen so hard you couldn’t bury the dead. They used to hoist the coffins into the roof of an isolated barn, and the cold preserved them till spring. The cemetery was just by our house, and the church, just a tiny one, half stone and half wood. The road was poor, and was always being cut by avalanches, and for six months on end the curé scarcely used to show his face. The sacristan had to read the gospel on Sundays because there was no Mass. There wasn’t much room, and they’d made the cemetery on a kind of small piece of flat land -- but the sides dropped a hundred metres. it was just a tiny little cemetery, but you can’t imagine anything prettier. I used to get up at night to look at it. Even when there wasn’t a moon, you could make out the crosses.’      She spoke without raising her voice, but more and more quickly. It reminded Mouchette of the little wooden windmills that the local boys made. There was one behind the house, unnoticed since the summer, and now almost covered by the swollen waters of the stream, whose insect-like sound could still be heard above the gushing of the spring.      ‘Listen,’ said the old woman. ‘Because we’re friends, I’m going to give you this nice sheet. There are a lot of rich people who don’t leave us so nicely-dressed -- families are so nasty! And I’ve a nice surprise for you, too.’      She picked up the half-open parcel from the bed.      ‘It’s a souvenir,’ she whispered. ‘You’ll find something nice to wear inside, if you feel that you should. It must be your size. But I’m afraid the colour isn’t very suitable -- it’s all either blue or white. The poor girl was pledged until she was fifteen, you know.’      ‘Pledged?’ said Mouchette. ‘What does that mean?’      ‘It was a vow her mother had made. Her mother had been old M. Trévène’s daughter, the big mill-owner from Roubaix, a very rich man. He’d bought the château at Tremolens, about eighty kilometres from here. I used to be in service there every summer. When I was getting on for thirty I wasn’t in too good health -- I was very  thin and sallow and my breath was bad. No boy looked at me without laughing. Never mind! The little girl would only play with me, and the grandfather had nothing against it. I say play, but she really only liked reading and talking. I was slow and didn’t understand much, but I liked to watch her. I know now that you mustn’t go by appearances. I’ve seen so many of those lovely girls die! Anybody seeing the two of us together wouldn’t have thought much of my chances. I was as thin as a rake.      ‘When Mademoiselle came back in the summer, jumping out of the big black carriage full of leather trunks, all white and sweet-smelling and young, she never missed telling me, with her little hand on my shoulders, how sad I looked. One year she came back from town a lot earlier than usual, in the spring. I’d never seen her looking so beautiful, and for a long time I didn’t notice that she’d lost weight. The funny thing is that from that moment I started to get better. I didn’t know why. The servants hardly recognized me. They told me I’d got a different face. It wasn’t my face; I felt that something wonderful was going to happen to me, that it was my turn now.      ‘When I was with Mademoiselle I never felt embarrassed any more. In any case, everybody made a fuss of me because Mademoiselle was ill and I was looking after her as well as I possibly could. Nothing was too much for me. I stayed up three nights running with her, even though it wasn’t necessary, and watched her sleeping. Perhaps it was by watching her like that that I began to like watching over the dead. Just before dawn, especially, her face lost its bloom and its youth. It was a face that belonged to me. The distance between us seemed suddenly wiped out. You would have thought that all the strength and freshness she lost while she was most deeply asleep were passing into me. It was like another blood flowing under my skin. Sometimes Mademoiselle was resentful. She’d ask me why I was looking at her like that. I’d tell her not to be afraid. When I went near her, she would laugh in a strange, quiet way. And yet she always gaze way in the end. My pity was stronger than her revulsion. Sometimes she even put her head on my shoulder and cried.      ‘Her fair hair smelt of heather. It was so nice that it made me think about love -- me, who’d never bothered with me. But even at those times I couldn’t forget how ill she was. The sweat on her forehead was cold and think. She wiped it off all the time with her finger-tips, pulling faces, and I always pretended not to notice anything. But it was still our secret. And it was for a long time, because she made up so carefully every morning that it was a long time before her mother realized how ill she was. But she was getting worse very quickly. I heard the doctors talking to each other, saying she wasn’t putting up a fight. Why should she put a fight? After a few weeks, as soon as she was alone with me, she gave up. I think she even liked to let me see her at her worst, as pale as death under her make-up, with her eyes lifeless. In the neck of her blouses -- I’d always envied them -- I could see how hollow her chest was. Perhaps that was how she made up for the show she’d had to put on during the day? Now she insisted that I slept in her room on a camp-bed. The grandfather had booked a room for the autumn in one of those places they call a sanatorium, a hospital for millionaires. “It’s not so urgent,” her mother used to say. “In summer the climate’s as good here as anywhere, and you can see that she can’t do without Philomène.” And she did cling to me more and more, and I clung to her. Her mother was a bit mistrustful. The grandfather would say I wasn’t looking after myself properly, and she’d answer that I was putting on weight. It was true. The watching at night had no effect on me -- I could do without sleep. And Mademoiselle could do without sleep too, or she no longer liked to sleep.      ‘During the day, she came and went as usual, and sometimes she laughed. I kept myself away from her as much as possible, but if she happened to meet me, she would pretend not to see me, or smile in a funny, embarrassed way. When we were alone together, she always began by pretending to be asleep. About midnight, her cough used to wake her. I had to sit on her bed. Her nightgown was sticking to her skin. Once the crisis was over, she’d no more strength than a child. She would tell me that she was going to die, and that she knew it, and that all the doctors’ lies made her ashamed. From then on, it seemed to me that you just had to give in to death. She cried for hours, quietly, with no sobbing, without even blinking, just as if life were passing out of her. In the end I’d cry too. She used to say “How you love me!” They weren’t bad tears, because tiredness was never too much for me. To tell the truth, I’d never had such an appetite. I was always first in the kitchen in the morning, before the milk was in the saucepans. I could have eaten a horse!’      She was clearly speaking to herself now, forgetting Mouchette and the parcel in her lap with her trembling arms around it. She had reached, in her confidences, some deep inner depth -- but in vain.      ‘What become of Mademoiselle, then?’ Mouchette’s hoarse voice interrupted her. She seized the old woman’s arm nervously, with her ‘bad look’ on her face.      ‘You frightened me, my dear. Where was I? I can’t remember. You startled me, my girl.’      The short rest had refreshed Mouchette. She felt a well-known flush on her cheeks and a circle of pain round her head, a sure sign of the stubborn bad temper which exasperated the schoolmistress.      ‘You horrible old woman. If I’d been the young lady, I’d have strangled you.’      ‘Look at you,’ retorted the old woman, with no trace of fear. ‘A real wild-cate. What have you got to do with the young lady; you’re too swarthy. She was pretty and fresh. You’re like a gipsy.’      With a sudden unexpected movement which took Mouchette unawares, she went up to the girl and put her hand on her breast, over her heart.      ‘I only wish you well,’ she said. ‘You’re bad, but it’s only because you don’t understand. I think I know your story already. You just tell me about it, my dear.’      She had curled up in her chair, and her fingers were moving so restlessly and quickly along her black dress that her hands were like two small grey animals hunting an invisible prey.