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eddiesfaerie · 4 years

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Long Sleeves (part 2)

Summary: Pushed to its absolute limits; a retelling of the past 4 months of you and Charlie’s complicated relationship (13.5k words, i dont know what to say other than im so sorry)

Warnings: NSFW, f!reader, major angst, annoying fluff, mentions of divorce, affairs, age gap (between Charlie and reader, previously implied), nudes, phone sex, PIV sex, daddy kink, some size kink, pain kink(?), rough (and angry and sad) sex, dom and sub themes, spanking, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), i also mention christmas a lot at the beginning which isn't really a warning but i know not everyone celebrates it!

Part 1

A/N: for those of you who are not a fan of d*ddy kink but who may still want to read this; i only use it between the time stamps of Christmas Eve to March, following the March timestamp there will be no mention or use of that word! just thought i’d mention cause the ending is cathartic!

LATE DECEMBER - APARTMENT

With Henry and Nicole staying in LA until after the holidays, Charlie would be alone with you until he left again.

And he didn’t leave your apartment once in the meantime.

Making up for lost time, is what you could call it.

The hours, days, spent in between sheets, on countertops, on couches, in the shower. Like he was trying to mark your apartment with his scent, make sure you never forgot him when he would leave again for LA in a few days.

You would remember him everywhere.

The way your knees bruised on the tile floor of your shower. The welts on your ass from his harsh hand. The bite marks on your shoulders, the bruises littering your neck, stomach, anywhere he could reach.

You would remember him everywhere.

The thousands of ‘good girls’ he praised you with and the thousand and one ‘fucking sluts’ he punished you with. Charlie was coming to know your insides and outs better than you could at this point, it was a certain level of familiarity you were happy with him reaching. He was becoming more and more comfortable around you.

You could tell not just because of the frequent sex, the hard fucking, but because of how he was opening up to you about the divorce. About what was really going on down in LA, what was happening with Henry, what had been happening (or more so, not happening) with Nicole for nearly the past year.

He told you about how she ignored him, refused to have sex with him, even touch him. How he had found solace in a one time affair with their stage director, how he just missed feeling needed, feeling wanted by the only person who was supposed to fulfill that innate human desire.

He told you everything he could think of, every little detail. He was tired of hiding, holding it in.

He realized he would have to tell you when he would get a random call from his lawyer or from Nicole herself, when he would talk to Henry. When he yelled through the phone or hung up crying, slamming his device against the wall, nearly breaking it.

He knew he would have to explain it to you, he owed it to you.

You deserved to know, especially now that he was involving you in this to some degree. He didn’t want to, didn’t want to involve you but he needed you more than he needed anyone else right now. More than he was ready to admit perhaps, just how much he truly needed you.

And that’s why going back to LA would be the hardest thing he’s done all week.

He stood at the door, dressed, suitcase packed, heart lurching, thumping low in his chest with dread, resent, fear, and some feeling he couldn’t fucking name.

Lo-

“I wish you could come.” He says instead, the saddest smile you’ve seen adorning his perfect lips. You smile back, just as sadly. You know there was absolutely no reason for you to go to LA with him, to spend Christmas with Nicole and Henry and whatever extended family would be there as well. It would never happen, never work. At least, not right now. Not like this.

The divorce proceedings were on break till after the holidays, both in and against Charlie’s favour. It meant not giving Henry two Christmases, one last normal one. But it also meant pretending, indulging in that… façade that him and Nicole have been keeping up for too fucking long now.

The deed would be done sometime in February, maybe March, Charlie couldn’t remember. He tried not to think about it too much. Think about losing everything-

“I know. But you’ll enjoy yourself. Henry will be happy.” You remind him, letting him hold you so, so tightly. His vice grip, digging into you, trying to anchor himself to you.

“I can’t believe I’m leaving you alone during fucking Christmas.” You laugh.

“I’m going home to see my parents, I won’t be alone, Charlie.” He nods his head, hearing the words you’re saying but he still can’t stop the guilt from creeping up on him. He doesn’t want you to think he’s abandoning you. He won’t abandon you, like everyone’s abandoned him. He just hoped you wouldn’t abandon him either.

Charlie presses his forehead against yours, his hands gripping your waist and pressing your body against his. Your arms wrap around his neck.

“I’ll call you this time, I promise. Every night… I’ll call.”

“Okay.” You giggle, believing him.

His hand sneaks its way up your jaw, gripping your cheeks gently but angling your face for you to meet his dark, dark eyes. You know that look, so familiar now. You feel the pressure start to rise inside you, heat pooling in the very pit of your stomach.

“You’ll be good for me?” You nod immediately, fervently.

“Yes, Charlie.”

“If I ask you to send me pictures, what’ll you do?”

“S-send you pictures.” Breathless, your voice sounds so breathless. Your eyelids threatening to close but you keep them on him, always.

“That’s my good girl.” He growls, tilting your face all the way to his lips, a kiss, a seal of approval. You moan against his lips, letting your eyelids flutter shut, imagining yourself in all those new lingerie sets he’s bought you over the last week.

Your early Christmas presents, he had told you.

“The… the taxis waiting out front.” You say against his lips, not wanting him to leave just yet, but also not wanting him to leave you high and dry before getting on a plane set for across the country for at least another week, probably longer. Charlie ignores you, shoving his tongue down your throat, his grip on your jaw moving down to your neck, squeezing ever so slightly, fingers ghosting over bruised skin, enough to make you fall further into his chest, gripping his perfectly ironed shirt, ruining it.

He pulls away all too soon, no doubt doing this to you on purpose. It was 7am and you were already whimpering into his parted lips.

“I-I’ll miss you.” You admit, heart crashing into your ribs.

You hadn’t meant to say it but he was making your brain foggy, your thoughts were jumbled together and you just let it slip past your lips. Charlie stares at you, red lips swollen like petals, cheeks matching, hair perfectly in place with your help nothing but fifteen minutes earlier. It feels like a lifetime has passed before he says anything back to you. The taxi honks outside on the curb.

“I’ll… I’ll miss you more.”

CHRISTMAS EVE - UPSTATE NEW YORK

It was relieving to be away from the city, surrounded by more wilderness, more foliage, more trees, more animals. A literal breath of fresh air that wasn’t tainted by sewage and the ever present scent of smoke coming from somewhere or someone.

You loved coming up here. Escaping. You hadn’t been back home since last Christmas. You moved away when you were quite young, the relationship you had with your parents was complicated, clashing personalities, it was difficult to understand each other when you were younger but there was clarity that came with age. They finally respected you, and you finally respected them as well, understanding them better.

You think spending so much time with Charlie and Henry gave you an insight into parenthood that you had never been privy too beforehand. You were thankful for that, not only did you appreciate your parents more, but now parenthood had many more benefits that you had never considered before. Magical, rewarding, fulfilling.

Charlie kind of made you feel that way too.

It was still awkward at times with your parents, that was unavoidable. No siblings around meant all eyes were on you. They were asking for too many details, prying too deep and you just never felt comfortable indulging in yourself this much. But you always came prepared, it was the holidays after all, things always got weird.

After Christmas Eve dinner, your parents invited you out on a walk with them around their little town. They did this every night apparently, just walking together, talking. It was cute, endearing. You declined their offer, however. Thankfully you weren’t sixteen anymore, and your parents didn’t press you any further to come along with them like they used to.

They’d be back in thirty minutes.

That gave you thirty minutes to call Charlie. Just as he instructed.

Earlier this evening, as your parents were beginning to prepare dinner, Charlie’s family was just finishing lunch out in California. A perfect time for a perfect distraction, or intrusion.

You had packed a few sets of the new lingerie Charlie had bought you, not knowing what he would want to see on you or how often you should switch it up. You nearly brought all of them but didn’t want to take up too much space in your luggage and be suspicious.

You put one on that you thought Charlie was particularly fond of, a skimpy little number that revealed more skin than hid, it’s colour complimenting your skin like it was made for you, made to hug your figure in all the right places. You forgot that Charlie had such a visual mind sometimes, he knew exactly what you would look good in.

Nervous and a bit shaky, you tucked yourself away into your childhood bedroom to take your pictures for Charlie. You felt like a teenager again.

Charlie was not pleased with the timing of your pictures, seeing as he was surrounded by family and innocently looked at his phone only to get a glimpse of your beautiful fucking body, all the blood going from his head straight to his cock. He nearly fainted. His cheeks lit up like Nicole’s Christmas tree and he stumbled from his chair. Thankfully, everyone seemed to be more occupied with paying attention to Henry than to notice him sprint to the bathroom to scold you over text.

That was hours ago. Charlie had told you to call him exactly at 11pm eastern time. That was only 8pm where he was but he said it worked out perfectly so you didn’t argue. You just waited patiently on your bed, number dialed on your phone and ready to call, all the clock head to do was strike eleven.

Finally, the clocks ding around the house, your thumb flies across your screen and you hold the phone up to your ear, worrying the flesh of your lip between your teeth. It rings once, twice, three times before you can hear his breath on the other end. It already sounds heavy.

“H-hi Charlie.”

“What are you wearing.” His voice is strained, maybe he’s already holding himself in his hand.

“Merry Christmas Eve.” You twist your fingers together nervously. Charlie grunts on the other end, a frustrated sound.

“I f-fucking told you, no pleasantries. I-it’ll only make us miss each other more-” You stayed quiet. You knew he was right, but you already missed him so much and hearing his voice was making it worse. You felt your lip tremble, you missed his arms, his warmth, his-

“Are you fucking pouting right now?” His voice was firm, sturdy, and annoyed.

“No, Charlie.” A lie.

“Good, now tell me what you’re wearing.”

“I’m wearing your favourite, the one from earlier. I’m barely covered.”

“Oh I know baby, your tits looked so fhuuuucking good in those pictures you sent me.” The fluctuation in his voice was rising and falling randomly, you could picture his hand wrapped tightly around his angry cock, the head flushed red, precum dribbling out the top, just begging to be licked. He tasted so good…

“A-are you touching yourself?”

“No, you didn’t tell me to.”

“G-good girl, you’re so fucking good to me, you know that?” You pictured his chest, the way he flushes right in the center, between his pecs. The way the red splotches climb up, up, up his neck and onto his cheeks and up to the peaks of his ears. You thought about the heavy rise and fall of his chest as well, how fucking wide he is, how much bigger than you he is. You audibly moaned.

“Tell me what you’re thinking about?”

“Y-you.”

“Be specific- fuck.”

“Um, your- your cock. How big it is, how big you are. How it feels when you stretch me out, when you go so deep I feel you in my stomach-”

“Keep going baby, I’m… I’m so f-UHcking close.”

“I think about the first time, a-a lot. How it felt the first time you split me open- fuck Charlie you’re so big I never think you’re going to fit but I always take it, I-”

“Yeah, yeah you always take me like the good little girl you are, such a good fucking slut for me, taking my cock in that tight fucking pussy.” He sneers, you can tell he’s talking from behind clenched teeth and you moan again, loudly. Your brain short circuits, what comes out next, comes from the deepest part of you.

“Oh Daddy,-”

“What did you just call me?”

Fuck.

You hadn’t really meant to say it, you were just so caught up in the moment, the feeling, the sound of him that you completely lost your inhibitions and let it slip out. You expected him to just end the call now.

“Charlie I’m so sorry-” He cuts you off with a firm call of your name.

“I asked you a question. What… did you call me?” Your stomach flips and your insides threaten to spill past your lips and onto your floor.

“Daddy.” You say so quietly you’re not sure he even heard you.

“I didn’t catch that.”

“Daddy.” Frustration laces your voice as you project the word throughout the entire upper floor of the house. He definitely hears it that time. You think you hear Charlie moan on the other end but you don’t want to be too hopeful.

“You wanna call me Daddy? Hmm? You want me to be your fucking Daddy, is that it?”

“N-no…” You’re not sure what he’s getting at, but you feel like he’s just going to torment you.

“Don’t fucking lie to me you little slut.” His breathing picks up again, his voice booming, heavy breaths between every few words. You can hear the slick of his hand as it moves quickly over his length.

“Yes! Yes I- I want you to…”

“Say it.”

“I want you to be my Daddy.” Charlie moans loudly again, his hand somehow moving faster. You can tell he’s close. You can’t believe he likes this. You love it.

“Yeah, I’ll be your fucking Daddy. You better fucking call me that non stop when I get back to you, my sweet little girl.” You moan this time, squeezing your thighs together, feeling your arousal trail slightly down onto your thigh. You were so distracted you hadn’t realized you’d completely soaked through your underwear.

“I will, Daddy.”

“Fuck, I’m-”

Confidence surged you. You still couldn’t believe he liked this but you finally gave in, feeding his desires. When you spoke, your voice was filled with something wicked, sickeningly sweet and most of all, evil.

“Are you going to cum for me, Daddy? Make a mess for me?”

You felt like you hadn’t even finished your sentence before a loud moan punched through your phone and into your ear. You moaned as well just from his release, feeling it in your mind and in your chest, squeezing your thighs again for any sort of friction. Charlie continued to moan through his release, you pictured his silky cum painting his taut abdomen and his beautiful chest. You imagined it blending in with his moles and freckles, you pictured yourself rubbing your hands through it, massaging it into his skin before licking it all up.

He wouldn’t even have to ask, you would just do it.

“Y-you’re fucking perfect… you fucking angel.” He’s so breathless, completely spent and wasted from your voice alone. You felt so hot. You needed to relieve yourself but you didn’t know if you should ask for permission or not. Before you could even debate it, Charlie spoke again.

“Go to bed, wouldn’t want Santa catching you up like this.” You laughed softly at his comment. Static on the other end. He said your name as if to check if you were still there.

“Yeah?”

“Merry Christmas.”

The line went dead.

JANUARY - BROOKLYN

You had sent Charlie pictures nearly every night after that. And you two called each other every other night as well.

He asked it of you and you couldn’t say no to your Charlie. It was a bit tricky while you were still staying with your parents, he would simply text you and you would have to scurry off to your room or the bathroom and snap as many flattering pictures of yourself as you could. You tried to make it seem less suspicious by drinking tons of water and just blaming it on your bladder.

But the new year had finally come, and you were now back home in your apartment. Charlie would be returning tonight and you were counting down the hours until you saw his taxi pull up on the curb side. You distracted yourself until then.

At around 7pm, you got an unexpected call from Charlie.

“Hi.” You felt like your smile was audible through the phone.

“Hey,” Charlie chuckled darkly, his voice always sounding deeper and richer through the receiver. “I just got in. I was wondering if you’d like to join us for dinner tonight?”

Us? He didn’t mean….

“It’s just me and Henry, Nicole’s uh, staying in LA until further notice. If you’re busy or if you can’t that’s-”

“I would love to,” The fact that Charlie would ask you to spend dinner with him and Henry warmed your heart beyond comprehension. Your weeks of loneliness suddenly dissolving into the background and becoming nothing more than a distant memory, a distant feeling. “but is Henry okay with it?”

“Of course he’s okay with it. He’s actually been talking about you quite a bit. I think he might have missed you more than I did,” Charlie choked a bit on his last words, “not that I didn’t miss you, I just meant that he, you know, Henry was-”

“It’s okay, Charlie I understood what you meant.” You giggle, finding his slight awkwardness endearing. How was it that you both were having incredible phone sex for the past two weeks and now you both sounded like teenagers calling their crush?

“So, you’ll come?”

“Yeah, I’ll come.” Charlie groans at your suggestive tone.

“Don’t start now.” His voice stern, unwavering. You laugh again, more mischievous this time. You test the waters, not stepping in enough to drown... just yet.

“I’ll be over in ten minutes, is that okay, Daddy?” You hear rustling on the other end of the phone and then Charlie cursing a low ‘fuck!’. You think you hear Henry’s voice too, followed by more of Charlie’s now muffled voice.

“Ten minutes is fine.”

Henry had bombarded you at the door, he wrapped his tiny arms around your legs and hugged himself tightly to you. It took everything in you not to cry, you knelt down so you could hug him back.

“I missed you.” He dug his cheek into your shoulder. This kid was the sweetest, he would melt your heart every time.

“I missed you too, Henry. How was LA? How was Christmas? Tell me everything!”

Henry grabbed your hand and dragged you into the living room where all his new toys were laid out, ready for him to play with. As he was pulling you there, Charlie emerged from around the doorway like an angel himself. Your eyes met and you felt as if you were moving in slow motion, and not being dragged at top speed by his child.

“Hi.” You greet, almost shyly. Unsure of how to act around him with Henry present.

“Hi.” Charlie repeats, grabbing your free hand for the briefest moment, giving it a tight squeeze until it's pulled out of his grasp by Henry.

You’re not sure how long you spent playing on the floor with Henry, him retelling you the events of the last two or three weeks while Charlie sat on the couch, glancing at the two of you every now and then. You tried not to think about the position you were in, kneeling on the floor, carpet digging into your knees, Charlie sitting tall above you on the couch, looking down at you from between his parted knees. It looked like such a natural position for him, almost like he was too comfortable like this, too familiar with it. You wanted to-

The doorbell rang, making both you and Henry jump from the sharp noise.

“Henry would you like to go pay the pizza guy?” Charlie asked, already pulling his wallet from the pocket in his pants.

“Yes!” Henry shouted, jumping up from the carpet, whisking the crisp bills from his dad’s hands and running to the door to answer it. Charlie figured he had a minute or less before Henry came back.

He lifted himself from the couch, taking your jaw into his hand and bringing you to stand with him. He crashed his lips into yours, violently shoving his tongue down your throat and you had to bite back the moan that threatened to spill through your lips and into his awaiting mouth. His hands had a deadly grip on your waist and on your jaw, you only wished he would ease up because you didn’t want Henry to wonder why you both looked so flustered.

“I can’t wait until tonight.” He said against your lips, his hand on your jaw moving to trail down your throat.

“W-what’s tonight?”

“I got it!” Henry came rushing back into the living room but not before Charlie pushed himself away from you and let go of your throat and waist. It looked like nothing had happened.

“Let’s go set it up in the dining room.” Henry stomped his foot in retaliation, whining slightly.

“Nooo, Dad, can we please watch a movie with pizza?”

“Henry, we have a guest-”

“Please!”

“What movie do you want to watch?” You asked, budding in, trying to stop a tantrum in its tracks. Henry’s eyes lit up and he glanced between you and his dad.

“Have you ever seen ‘Frozen’?” You actually had, but he didn’t need to know that. You gasped.

“I haven’t!” You glanced over at Charlie. His eyes were dark but an innocent smirk pulled at his lips.

He was thinking about how this just meant it would take longer before he could finally fuck you again, a two hour movie cockblock. It had been over two weeks since he had felt your body against his, nothing to satiate him but the sound of your voice and some mediocre photos. Charlie thinks he should show you how to take some really good ones sometime soon. Not that yours didn’t most definitely do the trick, he just thinks he likes the idea of directing you, positioning you...

But Charlie was also thinking about how he found it very sweet, very heartwarming to watch you bond with Henry. He loved watching you have such a good time with him and treat him like a person, not just a child. And he could tell that Henry really liked spending time with you too. Not just from how much he talked about you when you weren’t around, but the smile that lit up his face when you came over or when he went over to your place.

It was getting harder and harder to get Henry to smile like that.

You all sat down on the couch, little wooden fold up tables in front of your seat to hold your plate of pizza slices. Henry sitting between you and Charlie, of course.

Henry sang along passionately to almost every song, sometimes with bites of pizza in his mouth and Charlie would scold him for it, afraid he would choke but Henry ignored his dad’s requests, just continuing to belt out along with the characters on screen.

As the movie progressed and neared the end, you could feel Charlie getting more and more sleepy on his side of the couch. He would rearrange his sitting position every now and then and his eyes would close for minutes at a time. He looked so soft with his arms folded across his chest, his eyelashes fluttering against the tops of his cheeks, his lips coming to rest in the softest little pout. You nudge Henry gently and he turns to look up at you.

“Looks like your dad’s asleep.” You giggle, pointing to Charlie. Henry immediately jumps on him, startling Charlie awake.

“Dad I can’t believe you fell asleep again!” Henry pouts, grabbing Charlie’s face between his hands and shaking him from side to side. Charlie grabs his son’s little hands to stop his efforts, sitting himself up straighter on the couch and hugging Henry to his chest.

“Mmm’wasn’t sleeping.” Henry rolled his eyes.

“Why don’t you go get your daddy a blanket so he can get comfy for the rest of the movie.” You wink at Henry, sending him searching upstairs for the perfect blanket for his dad.

Charlie groans and drops his head on the back of the couch, his hand draping across is as well, coming to rest on the very tip of your shoulder. He wraps his fingers along your muscles, squeezing the flesh into his palm, tightly.

“I heard that.”

“Heard what?” Daddy.

His head lifts from the couch to glare at you, his stare deadly, shooting right to the deepest parts of you. Why were you teasing him like this?

“Dad is the dinosaur one okay?” Henry calls from up the stairs, slowly making his way down and back to the couch.

“It’s perfect, Henry. Thank you.” Charlie takes the blanket from Henry and kisses the top of his forehead before he settles back on the couch, cuddling up next to his dad.

You unpause the movie, admiring the two of them every now and then, watching Henry becoming more and more sleepy as the film nears its end. As the credits roll, Charlie removes the blanket from around himself and moves it to wrap around Henry.

“I’m going to go tuck him in.” Charlie whispers to you. You nod sweetly at the two of them. Charlie carries Henry in his arms towards the stairs before Henry grumbles, calling out your name to you back on the couch.

“Will you come too?”

You look to Charlie for guidance, you don’t want to overstep any boundaries. You’ve never been in the upstairs part of their apartment, you’ve never seen the rest of their place, Henry’s room, Charlie’s room, their bathroom. You’d never seen any of it and it all felt incredibly intimate and incredibly wrong in some way. You didn’t want to accidentally see something you shouldn’t. But Charlie just smiles back at you and nods his head gently.

“Of course, Henry.” You follow them up the stairs, smiling at Henry who smiles that shiny little kid smile at you before laying his head back down on Charlie’s shoulder, resting his eyes again.

Henry’s bedroom is exactly like you imagined it would be. Colourful blue walls, vibrant comic book patterned bed sheets, toys absolutely everywhere yet Charlie avoids them like their place on the floor has meaning, like he’s ingrained it into his mind from stepping on them too many times, muscle memory. You stay in the doorway, leaning on the door frame watching them, not wanting to intrude.

Charlie carefully lowers Henry onto his bed, tucking him in the covers and kissing his forehead. He says sweet words to his son, lulling him further to sleep and Henry smiles dopily back at him, whispering a quiet ‘love you, dad.’

Charlie turns around to face you, he flicks his head in the direction of the stairway mouthing the word ‘go’ to you, you nod and head down the stairs, waiting for him in the living room. You decide to settle yourself at the foot of the couch, sitting on your knees, feeling the burn of the carpet again and waiting for your Charlie.

He descends the stairs slowly, achingly slowly. Making you wait for it, making you feel the weight in his steps, his foot pressing into the wood, applying his weight until he shifts down another step before finally, finally, making his way to you.

You look up at him from your place on the floor, you try not to let your mouth hang open as you gaze up at him, this beautiful man. Sometimes, when you look at him, you wonder if whatever god or gods were out there made him like this on purpose. Sent him here looking the way he does to taunt you, to test you. Test your strength, your will to defy him when you know there is no humanly way possible to deny this man of what he wants. And what he wants is you. Why would you say no? How could you?

After observing you on the floor below him, Charlie seats himself down on the couch like before, knees spread, looking down at you. You scoot closer to him, hoping he doesn’t tell you to stop. His hand comes to rest on his knee before he pats it.

“Lay your head down on me.” His voice rumbles in his chest. You think you feel it through the floorboards, through your knees, up your spine and in the pit of your stomach. You listen and scoot closer, resting your head on his bony knee, nuzzling it with your cheek and looking up at him through thick lashes. You continue looking at him as you press a tender kiss as well, just for fun.

The lights are dim in the living room, the time ticking closer to midnight, Henry asleep upstairs. You both had to be quiet, you both knew this. Charlie’s hand comes to brush against your cheekbone, he trails his index finger all along the valleys of your face and then moving into your hair, gripping the back of it into a fist before relaxing again, bringing his hand back to hold your cheek.

“I’ve missed this.” He says so quietly. You nod, biting your lip.

“Me too.” You say, eagerness beginning to fill your voice. You adjust your position, coming to lean further into him, closer to his crotch where you can tell he needs you. Charlie hums contentedly.

“Mhmmm. Tell me what exactly you missed. Who you missed.” You let your hand glide over his knee, over his muscular thigh and towards his crotch, feather light touches along the fabric of his pants. You could feel how hard he was, it seemed painful.

“You. I missed your cock too... Daddy.”

There it was. He found what he was looking for. His hand found its way into a fist again in your hair, tugging it tightly, his head falling back against the couch as you pressed your lips over his covered cock, straining in his pants.

“You can do better than that,” he groaned, voice almost as strained as his cock yet still so forceful, “show Daddy how much you really missed him.”

You whimper at his tone, your voices both so hushed, rasped and desperate, spurring each other on much quicker than usual. Your hands, shaky with desire, reached up for his belt, grasping the cold metal into your hands and unbuckling it as quickly as you could. Only when you got to his zipper, did Charlie stop you with a light tap to your cheek.

“Teeth.” He scolded. You nodded.

You brought the zipper in between your teeth, biting down on the tiny piece of metal and slowly dragging it down over the hill his cock was creating in his pants. The heat radiating from his body was palpable, you could feel it coming onto your face the lower you dragged the zipper and the more he was revealed to you. You could also smell him, that smell that was undeniably Charlie; musky, earthy, a hit of fabric detergent and just the natural smell of his skin, like almonds in the summer. It made you dizzy, drunk off of him already.

You hadn’t even gotten him in your mouth yet.

You nuzzled your face into his clothed crotch, feeling his hard member pressing into your cheek, you could feel it pulsing, you could feel him wanting, waiting for the moment your mouth would take his length as far back as you could. You whimpered at the thought.

“You like it? You like my cock?”

“Yeah, I love it.”

“Then show me with that pretty fucking mouth of yours.” He sneered, pulling harder on your hair. You hummed and smiled, you felt giddy, maybe you really were drunk. You nuzzled your face into his crotch one more time before bringing both of your hands up to his waist, letting your fingertips dance around his beautiful skin that lay revealed to you above the waistband, you lean up, up, up pressing the softest, delicatest kisses to his skin.

Charlie groaned, pressing on the back of your head, pushing your face further into his tummy. You left more and more kisses before you gave him a tentative bite, not letting your teeth sink in too much before you lave your tongue over the abused flesh.

“Fuck that feels- fucking good.” Charlie moaned, looking down at the new mark that would only darken itself by tomorrow as more blood rushes to the affected area. It was placed beautifully next to his hip bone. You think it looked pretty. So did he.

You finally let your fingertips dip into his waistband but not before latching your teeth onto the stretchy fabric as well, aiding your fingers in removing them. You dragged it down, down, down his skin, just until his cock sprang free and laid heavy on his lower stomach. Charlie hissed, his hips bucking slightly from the sudden freedom.

He has the prettiest cock you think you’d ever seen. You never get used to seeing it, taking it in your mouth or your cunt. The stretch is always so painfully good, you’ve come to crave it. And going without it for the past however many weeks has made you near delirious for it. You stick your tongue out and run it all along the underside right to the very tip, where a shiny, pearly bead of precum has just begun to spill over. You hum as you lick it up, eyes nearly rolling back into your head.

“Don’t be a fucking tease.” Charlie grits from behind clenched teeth. You look up at him innocently, you notice that he’s clenching and unclenching his jaw like clockwork, his eyes look glassy and his cheeks are a few shades darker. He already looks so disheveled, so perfect like this.

“I can’t help it… it’s so pretty.”

“You think Daddy has a pretty cock?” You nod your head, humming, which you can’t seem to stop doing tonight, he just has you feeling so content, so safe. You don't think you could be like this with anyone else. You trace your fingers along his length, watching it bob from the slightest of touches, even Charlie tries to bite back his groans.

“Can-can I kiss it?”

“Please.” You lower your head towards his length, pressing your lips so softly onto his red angry head, giving little kitten licks in between kisses which has Charlie gripping your hair like a vice, afraid you’ll float away. You like the way his stomach flexes in response to your touch, like his body is bracing himself for the tidal wave of pleasure that’s bound to hit at any moment.

You finally take the spongy pink head into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it before letting a few inches fall past your lips as well. Charlie’s tummy flexes even more, the v shaped muscle becoming more and more prominent and you moan onto his cock. His free hand that had been clenched into a fist comes to hold one side of your head and the other comes to meet it. He holds your head in his hands and forces you to take more of him, but not all of it just yet. You start bobbing your head up and down on his length, his hands helping you find his ideal speed.

“Fuck yes, oh my god, j-just like that-” Charlie moans your name, his fingernails digging into your scalp making you moan on his cock again, only making him dig deeper, pressing your head further down his length, forcing you to take him until he hits the back of your throat.

“Gonna let Daddy f-fuck that pretty little whore mouth of yours?” You let your jaw go slack more than it already has and do your best to nod with his cock half way down your throat, tears already beginning to brim in the corner of your eyes. Charlie starts lifting his hips off the couch slightly, all the while moving your head further up and down his cock, forcing it down your throat as far as it’ll go without you making obscenely loud gagging noises.

His son was asleep right upstairs, after all.

You let your eyes roll back into your head, letting Charlie take control and just fuck his cock into your mouth like you know he needs to, like he knows you need it too. It’s been too fucking long. Too fucking long since he’s had you like this. At his disposal, his little plaything to do whatever he pleases with. And you fucking love it.

The cool, sharp metal of his unzipped zipper digs into your jaw and occasionally your neck, biting into your skin and scratching your skin when Charlie lifts his hips up particularly high but you don’t care. In fact, you welcome the pain, embracing it as a mark of Charlie’s rough loving. You hope it draws blood.

“Fuck, your mouth i-is so fucking perfect, so warm... I don’t-” He doesn’t finish his sentence, his eyes screw shut and you can feel his cock growing impossibly harder. He looks down at you, his face twisted in absolute pleasure as he loses himself in your tight little mouth. He pulls you off his cock with all of his strength. A trail of saliva connecting your spit swollen lips to the head of his cock. You start pumping him quickly with your fist.

“No-no wait I don’t…”

“I want it Charlie, please,” Charlie throws his head back, moaning your name, “cum in my mouth... please.”

You nearly whine that last part. Charlie grabs your hair and tugs it, shaking your head a bit.

“I want to fuck you, I don’t wanna cum yet- FUCK!” You hadn’t stopped your hand movements, your fist moving faster over his cock while he fights his release.

“You can fuck me tomorrow.” You say quickly before attaching your lips around the head of his cock, sucking on it until you feel his thighs, abdomen, hands, mind and soul tense up before he bites back his guttural moans, letting them rumble through his chest like thunder passing, before spilling himself onto your tongue. You moan as it lands, letting it slide down your throat as you taste him, taste all of him until he’s completely drained.

You look up at him through heavy lashes, coated thick in tears that have streamed down your cheeks. Chest heaving, abdomen pulled taught, cheeks incredibly flushed, lips swollen, eyes heavy and tired. Completely spent. He looked so beautiful, your Charlie. So beautiful like this.

“S-show me.” His hand reaches for your jaw, pinching your cheeks to force your jaw and mouth open. You stick your tongue to show him. All gone, you swallowed all of his cum, for him.

“Good girl.” He whispered, patting your cheek affectionately. You smiled sweetly at him, coming up with your hands resting your weight on his thighs, pressing your swollen lips to his. As you extend your knees to stand, you feel the ache in the joints, the bruises already present, no doubt. You loved the pain. Your lips glide effortlessly across each other, so tired, so worn out but always wanting.

“Stay, please.” He says against your lips. You shake your head, no. It was a simple answer. A simple predicament.

“Henry.”

You pull back to look into Charlie’s eyes, he pulls you into his lap and he winces as you apply just a bit too much weight onto the base of his cock. You look into his eyes, already so sad at the idea of you leaving. But Henry would ask too many questions in the morning.

Why is the nice lady from next door still here, Dad?

Did she stay the night, Dad?

Did she sleep in your bed, Dad?

You and Mom’s bed, Dad?

“I know, I know.” Charlie says, defeated. He presses you into his chest, hugging you to him tightly, tighter than you were expecting. It was a hopeful thought. He understood why it couldn’t happen, couldn’t work. Maybe he just wanted you to entertain the idea for a minute with him. Maybe it would happen one day.

“I really did miss you.” He whispers into your hair, cradling the back of your head with his large, warm hand, pressing you further into the nook of his neck.

“I did too. I really missed you too, Charlie.”

MARCH - BROOKLYN

Charlie was currently back from his third visit to Los Angeles, hunting burroughs for the perfect new home for himself and for Henry. Maybe for you as well, but Charlie didn’t like to dwell on that for too long, he couldn’t allow himself such hopeful thoughts, he would only be let down.

Would you really want to move in with him? Was that moving too quickly? Would you think he was insane? Crazy? Obsessed? The truth was, he is all of those things; insane, crazy, obsessed with you. He couldn’t help it, no. Not when it came to you.

He would always be desperate for your affection, your attention.

Things were escalating with the divroce. Nicole and Charlie had turned bitter, viscous, backstabbing, conniving. Both fighting for a child who has no intention of hurting anyone, certainly not his mother or father.

Henry had no idea what weight his actions or words held, no idea what it meant when someone came over to observe him and his dad, or him and his mom. When they sent someone out to New York to watch him there, sometimes you would be over too. They asked you so many questions, he didn’t understand why. Why were strangers suddenly so involved in every little thing his parents did? Were they in trouble? Were they bad people? Was he a bad kid? Did they hate him?

Henry pouts as you hold his hand, walking up the driveway to the new apartment Charlie was almost one hundred percent decided on renting. It was in more of a family oriented neighbourhood, still close to his school. Somehow, it had a decent sized backyard (which you had never heard of in New York, even Brooklyn), three bedrooms, an office, a beautiful kitchen, it was basically perfect in Charlie’s eyes.

The first time he visited it back in February, he sent you dozens of pictures and little videos when he had gone alone. He quickly booked another appointment for you to go and look at him with it so he could get your opinion. He made it very clear how important your opinion was to him on this matter, he was always asking you questions about the apartment, even bringing it up randomly. He would scroll through the pictures he had taken, scrutinizing every detail and ask you about it.

Do you think the backyard is big enough?

What if I end up getting Henry a dog? Would there be enough space for that?

Do you really like the kitchen? Be honest.

What about the office room? Do I really need that? Is that too much?

What about the guest bedroom?

You wonder if he was so invested in your opinion because he trusted you, or because he wanted you to move in with them. Neither of you had ever spoken about it before, never had that conversation. And even if you did, Henry would always have the final say. If he didn’t want you living with them, well, that was that. You couldn’t argue with Henry, not when his childhood and upbringing was in question. Especially after this divorce. Charlie would do anything for him. Even if it meant risking you.

Charlie ended up getting the house he had been eyeing for nearly a month.

Him and Henry would restart here, no painful memories embedded in the walls, in the flooring, in the holes in the walls, the slammed door frames, the windows that threatened to shatter from all the screaming and crying. None of that was here, it would never be here. None of that would happen again.

Charlie hadn’t asked you to move in.

And you hadn’t necessarily been waiting on him asking either.

You were already coming over pretty frequently. And not just on account of Charlie, Henry still loved seeing you and hanging out with you. You still babysat him when things at the theatre ran late.

When Nicole moved to LA, Charlie was thrown full force into his work. Forced to recast, rework, and rewrite so many things that she had just left hanging. You watched Henry those nights, stayed until Charlie got home and then took the subway back to your place, next to their now vacant apartment.

You were so lonely those nights you couldn’t sleepover at Charlie’s. You missed his warmth. You hadn’t realized just how much comfort you got knowing he was just next door, just beyond a thick wall. You could have touched it and felt his presence radiating through. But now, nothing. It was cold, dark, empty, meaningless.

And because Charlie had been so overworked for the past few months, the stress was starting to get to him. The constant obstacles and backtracking in the theatre production. The random calls from Nicole, his lawyer, the random flights down to LA, the weeks Henry spent away from him, the nights he lost himself in you, using you as an outlet. You let him, you liked it when he took it out on you, you liked how rough he would get, all that pent up anger being pounded out into your hot cunt. You loved it. Loved when he got mad, frustrated. You were always there for him. You would always be there for him, you hoped he knew that.

But what you didn’t love, was when he started neglecting you.

He would go days sometimes without calling you, so much as even texting you. You would get no word from him for a couple of days and sometimes you would just randomly piece together that he was in LA and he just forgot to tell you. You tried to not let it upset you, you couldn’t imagine what he was going through, the stress of the divorce, the potential of losing Henry, his whole life hanging by a thread. It really wasn’t his fault that he just forgot to mention it to you.

Sometimes he would lash out at you, a small comment or action rubbing him the wrong way and he would erupt, say something he didn’t mean or just walk out on you. Times when things go heated, you tried your best to keep you composure for his sake. He didn’t need you being upset at him too on top of everything else, so you kept it in, for Charlie.

Sometimes he would lash out before you two went out with his theatre friends. He would smile and hug everyone, but kept somewhat of a distance from you. Barely speaking to you, barely including you in the conversation unless someone else asked you a question or directly addressed you. What did you look like to them? Friends? Friends with benefits? Did you look like his whore? The babysitter that he was secretly fucking?

You kind of were.

You drank a lot that night. He fucked you when you got back to his new place. He fell asleep quickly after. You pulled on your long sleeve shirt and nice dress pants that you had been wearing that night after laying next to his warm, sleeping body for thirty minutes, debating, thinking, worrying, dying inside.

You stood up and walked to the door, you looked back to find him watching you. You nervously tugged at your sleeves, staring back at him until he turned around, pushing his face into the pillow, as if silently willing you to leave. You left. You called a taxi and left. You didn’t sleep that night.

You think it was because he told you he was going to Los Angeles again.

Maybe he mentioned Nicole? His lawyer? Something about Henry? The theatre?

You couldn’t remember what started all of this yelling, smashing. You were over at the new place, helping Charlie organize some things for Henry before he came back with him the next time he went out to LA again, which was in a few days.

Charlie was pissed and this time, you weren’t sure how much longer you could hold your calm resolve for him.

“Charlie if you just need some space from me tell me, it won’t hurt my feelings, I understand.” You decide to try and change the subject, maybe just cutting to the chase. Offering him what you think he wants, alone time. Time away from you, from everything. There’s no way he doesn’t need a break.

You hated how quickly you would give everything up for him. You would do anything for him, anything he asked.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He asked, eyes squinting in confusion. You sigh, running a hand down your face, your patience was running thin and you didn’t want to accidentally set him off.

“Everytime you see me you manage to get frustrated or mad about something. I just don’t want to give you more problems than you already have. I know you’ve been really stressed.”

“Elaborate, please.” His voice was clipped as he put his hands on his hips, stopping what he was doing and turning to you, seemingly giving you more attention than he had in weeks. You huff, not sure how to explain this to him.

“Charlie I-”

“No, what the fuck are you trying to say? That if I fucking ended things you would just leave? No questions asked?” His voice boomed, echoing off the newly painted walls, shaking the frames of yours and Henry’s dinosaur paintings from all those months ago.

He takes a step closer to you, you take one back, then another just for good measure. Your back hits the wall and you take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts as best as you can with him staring at you with those eyes. Those fucking eyes. They still managed to twinkle even when he was angry.

“I- I would… for Henry. You put Henry first, I put Henry first. If he wanted me gone-”

“He doesn’t fucking want you gone, you know that.” Charlie scoffed, walking closer to you, his face red in frustration, maybe anger. He says your name, it's never sounded so sad.

“Why are you lying to me?” He’s a step away from you now, chest heaving with laboured breaths. He’s trying to compose himself, you can tell. Trying to stay calm but his patience was wearing thin.

“I’m not, I w-wouldn’t lie to you, Charlie.”

“You would leave me?” You nod your head, lip trembling, tears burning, stinging in your eyes, your breathing becoming heavy too. Was this it?

“If that’s what you wanted, if you want me to leave I would.”

“Why? Why would you do something so fucking stupid?” His lip is also trembling, you feel like he’s about to spit in your face, yell at you for being such an idiotic little girl. The thought alone had you squeezing your thighs together, this was so fucked. You shouldn’t like this, shouldn’t like when he got frustrated, you resented the fact that you did.

You couldn’t think straight, the words leaving your mouth didn’t feel your own, like you were speaking some other language, possessed by a foreign being.

“Be-because…” Bile rising in your throat, you felt like you couldn’t breathe.

“Fucking why? Tell me why!” He was yelling, his face in yours and his voice breaking.

“Because I… because I love-”

And then Charlie was kissing you.

Charlie was kissing you.

His tongue swiped into your mouth like he was trying to strangle you with it. His hands came to your cheeks and pressed your body flush against his and the wall, sandwiched between the two. He was hard, you could feel his cock pressing into your stomach as he rolled his hips into you, you moaned into his mouth, tears spilling down your cheeks. He didn’t wipe them away.

“Don’t say it… don’t- fucking say it.” He said against your lips, voice so hush, so quiet and scared.

“Why? Why are you afraid of me?”

“I’m not fucking afraid of you.” He says, confused, angry, lips rough on your own. He keeps trying to kiss you, you don’t want to push him away but you try, you push on his tough chest, his heart beating wildly in its cage.

“Yes you are. You keep pushing me away.” You cry, hiccupping on a ragged sob that leaves your chest, as you ironically try to push him away from you. Charlie tries to kiss you through it, trying to suffocate you.

“I’m not.” He fights.

“You are.”

“I’m not-” You push, harder this time. He stumbles back, lips already swollen, his eyes are wet, glossy too. Like yours.

“You are!” You yell, voice breaking, choking on your tears. “Don’t act like you haven’t been treating me differently for the past month.”

When Charlie says nothing, you continue.

“You don’t call me, you don’t text me, I only come over to babysit Henry when he’s here and when he’s in LA you just fuck me and then get mad about something and leave. When we go out you don’t look at me, you don’t touch me-” Your voice falters, you’re not sure you can go on with the way the sobs wrack through your chest and into the rest of your body. You feel weak, like you might collapse into the ground. You wish you would, you wish the floor would just swallow you up and you could disappear.

Charlie sees red. His fists shake, clenched into fists at his side after you’ve pushed him away. His palms burn to touch you. He knows he shouldn’t, he knows he should listen to what you’re saying, let you talk, remind him how much he’s been hurting you. He knows what he’s doing, he’s not stupid.

He wasn’t trying to push you away, he definitely wasn’t doing it on purpose. But he was sabotaging himself, sabotaging everything because he felt he didn’t deserve you. He was a bad father, a selfish person for wanting to take Henry away from his mother, for wanting Henry to himself, a bad person for hating Nicole, a woman he once loved.

Love.

It was all because of love wasn’t it? Charlie wants to laugh at the thought. Wants to laugh and scream and yell and hit something at the thought of stupid fucking love. Was he really becoming that nihilistic already?

Would he come to hate you like how he hates Nicole? Would you come to hate him the way he hates himself? The way Henry probably hates him? The way his parents hated him-

His knees hit a hard surface, blistering, blinding pain shooting up his legs. He’s collapsed onto the floor before he’s even aware of it. Unaware of the sobs that push and pull at his lungs, forcing his chest to heave in the oxygen before choking it back out along with spit and tears.

He’s crying. You’re crying. Fuck, how did it come to this. This was all too familiar. He feels numb.

How could he love you when love was the scariest thing? When love was the most frightening emotion he had ever experienced. Everything that’s happened to him for the past two fucking years was because of love. Love would ruin everything. It always did. But he couldn’t…. he couldn’t lose-

“Y-you… you can’t- leave me.” He chokes, hands planted shakily on the floor, holding his upper body up, his arms weak.

You… you’ve never seen Charlie like this. And honestly? It scares you. Sure, you’ve heard him yell, scream, cry at Nicole, his lawyer over the phone. But this was different. This was visceral, burning desire, regret, shame, embarrassment… this was everything coming crashing down around him at once.

Fuck.

This is what you’ve been trying to avoid over the past month. That’s why you’ve tiptoed around him, letting him get angry, letting him yell, letting him ignore you, use you, fuck you and ask for nothing in return. You were avoiding this.

But maybe you had just prolonged the explosion? Let enough gas build up before it eventually burst into flames.

Eventually…

You had definitely made this worse, by ignoring it you’ve let it fester, let it rise and rise and rise, just pushing down the lid for your own sake. Maybe it was both of your own faults? You don’t know, you don’t care. This was bound to happen at some point. And it just so happened to be today. All you really care about is Charlie.

You kneel down on the floor in front of him, resting your palm on the floor like he has, letting your pinky finger graze against his. The slightest of touch as to not scare him off. He flinches, his head still hung low, eyes screwed shut.

You place your hand on top of his, feeling his burning skin, testing the waters. He doesn’t pull back so you continue your efforts. You intertwine your fingers with his, slowly, slowly lifting his hand up off the ground and closer to you. He still doesn’t look up. You keep moving his hand until it’s on your chest, covering your left breast. Only then does he look up, searching your eyes.

He feels it then. That same thing he felt the first time… the first time he had you. Your beating heart, pumping wildly in your chest just like his was. Did you know? Did you know what you did to him? Did you know how much he needed you, how much he thinks of you? Did you know that he… that he-

“I won’t.” You say, cutting him off mid thought. His hand clutches onto you through the fabric of your shirt, trying to reach through you and grab your heart into his hands. He wants to pull it from you, keep it for himself and lock it away, make sure you never fucking leave him. He was so selfish.

“I won’t leave you Charlie.” You say again when he says nothing, just watching his hand twist into the fabric of your shirt, tugging it strangely until he’s rid you of it. He places his hand back on your chest, feeling your heart better now through the barrier of only your flesh.

“I…. I’m sorry.” “You said you wouldn’t lie to me?” It feels like the first thing he’s said in hours, his voice rough around the edges, gooey in the middle. His post-yelling voice, you knew it too well.

“I wouldn’t.”

“Then why… why would you even say that? That you would leave me?”

“Because if that’s what you wanted, what you needed… I would do it. I would do anything you wanted, anything for you, Charlie.”

“Why?” He couldn’t understand. There was no fathamobale reason as to why he would deserve such devotion. Especially from you.

You’re quiet, unsure of how to answer him. This was the same back and forth you both had before he exploded, when you almost told him you… that you lo-

“I-I don’t know how to answer… you told me not to say it.” You whimper, tears spilling from your eyes again. His hand comes to hold your cheek, thumb swiping away the tear. You nuzzle into his hand, kissing his palm. You stay there for a moment, resting your face in his palm, feeling his warmth radiating from his hands, letting a silence wash over the two of you. It was sort of peaceful. A chaotic peace.

“Charlie, I-”

“Don’t... don’t say it.” You cry some more, tears spilling. His hand moves to your throat, squeezing gently, you find it oddly comforting.

“But I want to, I want to say it, please.” You grab the wrist of the hand holding your throat, squeezing his flesh, asking.

“No.”

“Charlie-”

“I said no.” He grabs your jaw, shaking you from side to side a little. You whimper, eyes screwing shut, pushing more tears past the precipice. He pulls you into his lap, you’re putty in his hands, letting him move you however he needs to move you. He holds you in his arms, your legs wrap around his waist and his legs bring him to stand up somehow, his strength always shocking you.

“You can’t say it... you can’t leave.” He continues, you sniffle, hiding your face in his neck, grabbing onto his hair as he carries you somewhere through the apartment, up some stairs…

“I’m sorry, Charlie, I’m- sorry.” You hiccup and cry into his neck, wetting the skin. You press your lips over the newly wet skin, feeling his heartbeat flutter underneath, teeth grazing the thin flesh.

Suddenly he’s lowering you down, down, down until you come in contact with a soft surface, his mattress. Charlie crawls on top of you, you let him rest between your thighs, keeping your legs up high on his waist.

“Don’t ever fucking leave me.” You shake your head from side to side in agreement with him, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. His hand trails down the length of your body roughly, burning your flesh in its unforgiving path. You’re left only in your jeans since he removed your shirt when you were still downstairs.

“I won’t, I-I didn’t mean-” You can barely form a proper sentence, choking on your own tears and sadness that wrack through your mind and body. Charlie’s hand in already palming your sex through the thick denim you wear, you whimper, trying to squeeze your thighs together but his body blocks them.

“Stop talking.” He barely gets out the words before he’s pressing his lips to yours again, letting his lips glide against your wobbly and swollen ones. You breathe each other in, letting your tongues dance across one anothers as you gasp and cry into his mouth. It’s all teeth and all tongue, it’s messy, clumsy, desperate, burning. You don’t care, he doesn’t either when your teeth clack against each other, nibbling on lips, biting sometimes.

Charlie flips you over underneath him so that you face the sheets, sliding down your body and roughly tugging down your jeans along with your underwear in one swift motion. You gasp as your wet cunt comes in contact with the cool air of the darkening day. Charlie stands on his knees behind you, pulling your ass up higher, higher, higher until he’s satisfied. His cheeks are warm, his ears pink at the peaks. Before either of you even have time to think, his hand comes down harshly onto your right ass cheek, you cry out, gripping the sheets by your head.

“Ch-Charlie!” You gasp, earning you another smack to your other cheek. You push your head down into the covers, trying to muffle your cries and moans as he keeps going.

His smacks you again, and again, and again and again until you’re a sobbing mess in the sheets. Words, languages lost to you in your muddled brain. A pool of spit near your mouth soaked into the white fabric, only a wet spot remaining to show for evidence of your euphoria. You can feel the imprint of his hand on your ass, you know it's burning red, you know the skin is raised and puffy. You fucking love it.

Charlie’s chest is heaving, breaths labored as he takes it all out on you like he knows you need it, knows you love it. He does too; love it and need it. The way your ass gets so much brighter, how big the imprint he’s left on you is. How fucking perfect you are for him... He’s pulling off his shirt before he knows it, shedding his pants too until he’s in nothing but his underwear. You’ve stayed exactly where you are, not daring to move a muscle since he hasn’t instructed you otherwise.

“So now you listen.” Charlie mutters to himself, it's barely audible to you since the blood is coursing so loudly through your veins, through your ears. You’re buzzing.

Charlie pushes you back down on the mattress so you lay completely flat. He pulls your jeans and underwear down the rest of your legs until you lay there bare before him. He inhales sharply at the sight of you. He could see the way you glisten for him, he could feel it on his hand when he had spanked you, your arousal having begun to trail down the tops of your thighs, he moaned at the sight.

His hand comes flying down, this time spanking you roughly on your pussy causing you to lurch forward into the sheets, crying out his name pathetically again. He leans over you, keeping his hand clutched tightly around your cunt, feeling your juices seep between his fingers, you moan and try to press back into his hand but he just slaps it again, your eyes screwing shut. He’s nearly got his entire weight on top of you, his hot breath fanning across your cheek as he comes close to your face.

“You’re so fucking wet for me… you want it that badly?” You nod your head vigorously.

“Yes! Yes, Charlie I want you, I-I need you so badly, please.”

“Hmmm, what do you need?”

“Anything, y-your fingers…”

“Where”

“... in me, in me please.” You’re completely desperate, your crying and sobbing from earlier making you especially weak to his ways, his voice, his body. God, he could do anything to you, and you would let him, you would beg him, you would thank him.

Slowly, Charlie sinks one thick finger into your soaking cunt. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he pumps it slowly, in and out, in and out of you. You try and push your hips back to meet the small thrust of his finger but he keeps you pinned down.

Charlie could feel you clenching around his single digit and he groaned next to your ear, nibbling on the soft lobe as he continued his ministrations. You whined, withered underneath the weight of his body, his hot chest pressing into your back, pressing you into the mattress.

“Charlie, please I-”

“What? You need more? You need more from me?”

“Please.” Charlie draws his index finger out of you before joining it with his middle one, probing your entrance teasingly, swirling his fingers around it but never going in.

“Fuck-”

“Do you think you deserve it?” He didn’t deserve it, didn’t deserve you, your pussy, none of it. He was only projecting his worthlessness onto you. He didn’t mean it, he couldn’t.

“N-no.” You say, tears welling in your eyes from a multitude of things. Overstimulation being one of them. You tried to get your hips to stop pressing into his hand but it was so hard when the temptation was right there.

“No… you don’t.” He kisses the tears that slip from your eye, pressing a finger to your mouth and you gladly take it in, laving your tongue around his salty, rough skin. His two fingers at your entrance finally push in deeper, causing you to cry out around his finger that was in your mouth, drool slipping past your lips.

Then he starts pumping, quickly, and you can’t stop the way your hips push into his hand, trying to meet him halfway through his thrusts, needing more so badly. You moan around his fingers, he echoes your moans back into your ear. You can feel his cock filling out, getting harder and harder against the back of your legs where it still lays confined in his underwear.

All too quickly he pulls his fingers from you and spanks your pussy again, you choke on a cry around the finger that’s still in your mouth. You’re already wrecked, and he’s nowhere near done with you.

“You only get to cum on my cock, understand?” You nod your head with vigour, eyes trying to meet his from where he’s positioned, behind you yet over top of you. You can feel him moving around, pulling his fingers from your mouth and his underwear off as best as he can without moving too far away from you.

“I understand, Charlie.” You cry, the tears unrelenting at this point, beyond your control.

Fuck, what weas he doing? Why was he doing this now?

What other way did he really have though, to show you what you mean to him? Definitely not words, no. No matter how much he writes for the theatre, words could never come close to describing what he feels for you, what he needs from you, wants from you, what he wants to give to you, tell you, provide you. None of it, no language would do.

Nothing would come closer to his body on you, in you, moving in tandem with you, hearts so close together that he loses sense of himself and just feels you wrapped so tightly around him in every sense. That’s the only way he could show you, the only way he could tell you.

He grabs his cock in his hand, pumping himself slowly and rests his head on your shoulder, groaning into your skin at the sensation. “Beg.” He spits, his lips moving against your flesh. He rubs the head of his cock against your slick folds and you yelp, pressing your hips back but he anticipated it, drawing his hips back, away from you.

“Charlie, please I-I need you so badly, I’ve never wanted… anything else but you, I just- please, I need you so bad, I-I, l...love-”

“I told you not to fucking say it.” He grits from behind clenched teeth, slapping your ass harshly and you let a sob leave your lips. The burn was so good.

“I-I’m sorry, I can’t help it-” You whine, fists bunching up the sheets with a grip so deadly your skin is turning white. He lets his head drop to your shoulder again, his own eyes screwing shut, trying to will his own tears away as he continues to run his cock along your pleading entrance, collecting whatever arousal has seeped out of you.

“Fuuuck, perfect little pussy... so desperate for my cock, isn’t it?” He mutters, almost to himself as he watches the way his cock moves between your glistening folds. Unashamed, you keep crying, moaning at the feeling of his big cock so close to where you need him most, nodding your head.

“Please, Charlie I need you inside m- fuck, just put it in, please-”

Your breath hitches in your throat as you feel him press in with the tip, letting the spongy head break through your folds and slightly dip into your entrance. Your fists clench and unclench against the sheets. With a sharp ‘fuck’ Charlie presses the rest of his long, thick cock into you, both of you moaning and breathing in one another.

He lets his cock sit in you, coming to interlock his fingers with yours, pinning your hands above your head, elongating both of your bodies but mostly yours, from how much longer his body is. Only then does he start snapping his hips into yours, letting his thrusts punch out your moans and cries from your chest.

At this angle, he’s hitting places inside of you so deep you never thought you could fathom, filling you up to the brim, you swear you can feel him in your stomach, punching your guts into your throat with every violent thrust.

You moan his name without relent, it’s the only thing you could possibly ever know. Charliecharliecharliecharliecharlie to infinity. You never wanted to know anything else, no other thought suddenly as interesting as him. He was the only thing that mattered. The way his cock filled you was dizzying, mind-numbing, and bone-shattering.

“You always need me so badly, you could never leave me, never leave this cock. Desperate little slut.” Charlie groans, head resting on your back as his powerful thrusts push you up the bed. He latches a hand around one of your hips, trying to keep you pinned down.

“You would never fucking leave me, you’d never fucking do it.” He continues, maybe to himself. You can feel him nuzzling his face into the skin on your shoulder, kissing and biting the skin, leaving a mark in his wake like he always does.

“I won’t, Charlie- I won’t, I promise.” You hiccup, his thrusts unrelenting in their assault. You could feel your release building, that bright white feeling rising inside of you. The only sounds in the room were your breathy moans, Charlie’s growls and the loud slap of skin on skin, his hips colliding with your ass every time.

“Dont ever say that s-shit again- dont ever fucking leave me. Don’t - ever. Fucking. Leave.” He growled, biting your shoulder and punctuating his words with harsher thrusts, fucking into you.

“I’m s-sorry Charlie-” You’re cut off by a sensation on your back. Hot, wet, slippery. Charlie sniffles.

He’s crying, burning holes into your flesh as they land on your back. Your own eyes well up all over again. The pleasure of his cock deep, deep, deep inside you and the emotions flowing through both of you was overwhelming, overstimulating, your mind was going blank, you felt like you would black out.

You hear it then, his quiet cries, the way his chest shakes as he finally lets it go, lets it out. And then he’s suddenly pulling out of you, grabbing one of your ankles and one side of your hip, flipping you over quickly, hiking your legs back up around his waist and continuing his punishing, relentless pace. You moan embarrassingly loudly as you watch the way his stomach flexes into you, the way his chest tightens and constricts, the flush that spreads from in between his marvelous pecs to his cheeks, his dark wet eyes, the red that fills them, the way his eyelashes clump together, making them look longer, darker, the dark halo of hair that frames his face. Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

It was beyond you at this point, you couldn’t stop what was already put into motion.

“Oh, Charlie…” You cry, chest arching into his, your nails scraping his biceps. He moans at the pain, dropping his forehead to yours. You’ve never heard him moan like this, never seen him cry like this, never seen him so lost and completely gone in you.

Even if it was a mistake.

Even if you would regret it tomorrow.

Or five minutes from now.

Or immediately afterwards.

It was the truth, your truth. His truth. It was the only thing you could ever possibly know.

“I love you.” You cry, burning tears streaming down your cheeks. Charlie’s eyes meet yours, lost, delirious, shocked.

“You… y-you can’t.” He doesn’t tell you to stop this time. Doesn’t tell you to shut up, doesn’t tell you how dumb and pathetic it is to love him. You love him.

“I do, Charlie I-I do. Fuck, I love you so fucking much.” You whine, nails biting the skin on his back. His hips never stop, he’s fucking common sense and all things rational out of your mind. All you know is him. All you ever want to know is him, Charlie.

His chin wobbles, moans escape past his lips as he refuses to stop fucking you, his cock so fucking hard it hurts him, almost more than this. Almost more than the chant that has started to leave your lips, the floodgates have been opened and you can’t stop your confession now.

“I love you, I love you- shit, Charlie I love you, I love you so much, I love your fucking cock, fuck!” You couldn't stop, you felt like you could never stop at this point. You never wanted to stop saying it, never wanted to stop telling him. You loved him, you loved him, you loved him.

“You’re… you’re not real… you’re- fuck, too fucking good for m-me.” Charlie gasps, his hips speeding up, his cock growing harder somehow. You feel him pulse inside of you. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, mouth hanging agape, no sound being emitted from you. Charlie moves his lips down to your exposed throat, kissing and sucking on the delicate skin before wrapping a firm hand around it, not squeezing too tight.

“Yours.” You manage to choke out, gripping onto his wrist that's at your throat with all the strength you had with your body gone pleasure weak. Charlie moans your name, it makes you cry more.

“I’m yours, Charlie.” You manage to say more clearly, using all your willpower to look him in the eyes. His eyes are blown black, the dark circles underneath them so, so pigmented. You could feel the crescendo building, he was about to break. His lips were glossy, spit slicked and roughly bitten.

“You’re mine.” He confirms, more to himself than to you. He just… he felt like he could never be sure enough. Like he would never believe that you were his. That you were in love with him.

You nod your head, hands interlocking behind his head, gripping tightly into his hair.

“I’m yours, yours.” You keen, hips rolling into his as you both neared your release. His hand around your throat keeps you pinned in place as his fucks you into the mattress, moaning, groaning, crying your name. The slight added pressure makes you see stars, your pussy flutters around his cock and your back arches, pressing your chest into his but Charlie keeps you exactly where you are, your body convulsing as you cum, cum, cum around his cock, screaming his name.

“M’gonna cum, gonna f-fucking cum s-so deep inside, fill you up-”

“Please, Charlie.” You whine, dumb from the high that he continues to fuck you through, tears stained on the skin of your cheeks. You tug on his hair roughly, meeting his thrusts with a roll of your hips and that sends Charlie over the edge.

“Fhuuuck-” He lifts his head slightly, to look at you better as he splits you open one final time, his cock stilling in the deepest parts of you before he cums so fucking deep inside your pussy with the most guttural moan.

He fucks his cum back in to you until it’s seeping back out onto his cock. He groans so loudly you feel it in your bones. His hands wrap around your upper body, holding you tightly as he spins to lay on the mattress, holding your body to his chest, his cock still nestled deep inside of you.

Charlie gives you a small thrust, pushing and mixing his cum with yours one final time. You gasp and cling to him, your nails digging slightly into his muscular pec at the sensation, the delicious burn. You feel so incredibly full, so full of your Charlie. You love him.

“I lo-”

“I love you.”

Your heart must have stopped beating, your lungs, forgotten their functionality, your brain short circuited, your limbs incapacitated.

You looked up at him with those big, shiny wet eyes. You looked like a fawn, lost on the side of the road who just found someone who could help them. Someone kind, someone gentle, honest, safe, warm. Someone worth loving. He was worth loving. Charlie was worth loving.

But you already knew that.

He said it again, so low in the dark room, the dark night, eclipsed with spilled feelings and sweat, tears too. So many fucking tears. His voice so low it almost didn’t register, the deep vibrato rumbling your insides and warming you up all over again.

He said it with you curled up on his chest, he said it again when you moved up his body to press your face into the crook of his neck, pressing your lips to his bruised skin, he said it as tears spilled from your eyes. He would say it as you fell asleep on him in the deadly hours of the night and again in the morning when you woke. He would remind you constantly, he couldn’t stop, couldn’t hold it in. Not anymore.

He would tell you he loves you a million and one times from then on, until you didn’t want to hear it from him anymore.

tag list! @morby @shesakillerkween @gamingaquarius

#charlie barber #charlie barber x reader #reader insert #charlie barber x you #charlie barber imagine #charlie barber smut #long sleeves #part 2 #tw: daddy kink #cw: daddy kink #my writing

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josephmyplace · 3 years

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ART EVALUATION - MULTIVERSE ASSIGNMENT

themes of the assignment

The multiverse assignment took us through a variety of artistic styles, drawing, printmaking, typography and collage, but there was also a narrative element introduced through the penguin book, we were tasked several times to draw inspiration from narrative elements from the book, or to depict scenes from it, this I felt was similar to fine art, however while on the computers we worked on 'postcards' (personally though I always felt their purpose was more like covers for our books), which again had inspiration taken from the book, this reminded me of graphic design; we were attempting to express a product through a visual means.

the three ‘postcards’ that had text added to them, overall i find that the first one below is my favorite, the central image i feel is a strongly emotive one, figures shrouded in darkness, almost in solidarity over some tragedy, which is why i annotated it “a reminder of better days”, as a reference to how i felt the image was tragic.

this image i annotated it with words associated with god, the drawing i used because i wanted it to resemble an old medieval representation of an angel, which i feels far more visually interesting, and below it is the shattered sky and broken buildings, riven by strange flames, all part of the ‘wrath’ and ‘profound fear’.

here was see the hand receiving what should cause ‘the rapture’ i used the sun as the object because i felt as though the sun’s connection to the heavens, and it being unreachable was going to add to the piece. i also inverted the colours of each of the annotations, to draw contrast between the statements.

This all being said I'm confused over how the multiverse plays into this, the assignment was about creating art based around a narrative, not around other universes.

Two artists I felt influenced the art I made during the assignment were Brooks salzwedel and pokras lampras, Brooks' art I have already examined, still, he depicts floating land masses, and strange forested scenes obscured by mist, while pokras lampras is an asemic writing artist, his particular

Brooks salzwedel

style was structured and merged aspects of Cyrillic, English, Greek and Arabic creating an interesting visual style.

Pokras lampras

What did we learn in lesson

This assignment did not focus on new artisic methods (in comparison to the last unit we learnt screenrinting, intaglio, chalk, graphite etc.) but rather ways to express ideas through it, in this case through the aforementioned narrative.

Animation:

animation is relatively simple, animations are composed of several frames, then the amount of frames per second will determine how the animation plays put, generally the higher frame rates are used for smoother, more high effort animations, 24 fps (Frames Per Second) is industry standard.

In a programme the last frame can be viewed to better let the animator decide where they want to go with the animation.

Light box art:

our light box art used tracing paper, each piece of paper was drawn on, the penned, the most 'misted' paper would be at the back, giving an impression of dictance, the paper in fromt would similarly appear closer to the veiwer.

Though as for what we used, screen printing, digital, painting, drawing were all used, of note was the continued use of animations in digital atr.

the use of light boxe was interesting particularly the use of layered tracing paper to create a obfuscated image, though I personally wonder how I could use them in my own art.

Out of lesson

digital art became my focus, I've found my transition from traditional methods difficult, lines are less stable, and dealing with confusing interfaces has proven itself difficult.

The quality of my artwork has been reduced as a result, but this is expected when moving to a new, unfamiliar medium.

Though digital art has allowed me to use colours freely, which again is difficult, as I never developed any real sense over how to use colours using traditional drawing methods.

Inspiration

Additionally I asked each individual artist the same three questions about their work, which were

what is your source of inspiration? (meaning what initially inspired you and what continues to)

how did you start? (what did you draw initailly, when?)

what processes and materials do you use?

void_illustration - Richard Saunders Illustration

Richards art either is obviously biological, where a creature is depicted, or has a distinctly biological edge to it, metals seem to bend,twist and stretch like flesh, nothing seems to be truly just a machine or device, rather every ridge, bulge and groove hints at a more organic truth to his figures and objects.

1. im inspired by so many things, its good to pull from a wide range of inspirations.

2. Ive been drawing for a long time, im not professional but im hoping to change that, most of my work forms into narrative universes and then develops on from there.

3. For materials I use a range. My 'bio warrior' series is mainly pencil sketches with marker colours and white paint pen highlights. My brown paper dragons are watercolour on strathmore toned tan paper, lined digitally, though I will layer them up further with paint and markers.

Fuelstains - Nikolay Georgiev

His work similarly to Richard's trends to directly be a creature or rather, monster, these organism often have strongly textured skin, often appearing to have many grooves, showing the musculature underneath, then there are his mechanical pieces, either directly depicting a machine of some kind, such as a robot, or depicting a human who has been massively altered by technological augmentations.

1.I was initially inspired by comics, as a kid, stuff like spiderman, bat man and transformers, but later on it could be anything that inspires me.

2.I started in primary school and it was mostly superheros or stuff from movies.

3.Pencil, ink fineliner, brushpen, watercolour, ballpoint pen, digital.

Milesr.art – Miles R art

miles' art focuses on creature drawings, particularly drawings of alien life, creating some truly bizarrely fascinating, most bearing little resemblance to earth organisms, if any. Another aspect of Miles' work that I appreciate is that it seems grounded, the animals, in spite of their bizzarreness still seem like they could exist.

1.some of my biggest sources of inspiration:

- C.M koseman, Brynn metheny, and dougal dixon are some of my most inspiring artists

-just thinking about the natural world in general like on our planet

2.what initially inspired me to draw and that goes into number 2) in kindergarten I saw some kid drawing a honey comb pattern with neon markers and was like huh okay im going to do that but better.

And I always drew monsters and characters, always becoming more based on science overtime, and here I am now.

3.Now I exclusively make finished things digitally with my ipad pro and apple pencil using procreate, but I often make sketches on post it notes with just regular pencil. In terms of processes I feel like I just do what I do it, its hard to define ones process.

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loadingluke · 4 years

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Stage 3 4 days post op update

Hi all, today I’m 4 days post op stage 3. I thought I’d do a little update as I’m out of hospital now.

I was discharged on Saturday afternoon. That morning I had my catheter removed (finally, bloody hate those things and I was starting to feel some bladder irritation). I had to do a void trial, so I had to pee into a bottle and then have my bladder scanned 3 times. If I wasn’t able to pee or I was retaining a lot of urine I may have had to be catheterised again, so I am very glad that that didn’t happen 😅. I had my canula removed as well, and was switched to oral antibiotics instead of IV. I was able to get up and wander around, albeit very slowly and carefully. Dr Goossen came in and removed all my dressings, including the large amount of padding on my penis, so I could actually have a look at it all, and it looks amazing! The prosthesis is VERY rigid, a lot more rigid than I expected, and the testicular implant and pump bulb have filled out my scrotum very nicely- only issue is that I am currently very swollen so it’s hard to really imagine what it’ll look like once it settles- but for now I am very happy.

I ended up getting the coloplast titan touch 3 piece prosthetic with one cylinder. Goossen said that he had to use an 18cm cylinder, which is a little longer than what he normally implants. This prosthesis is VERY rigid, and I have no concerns about the future with it and whether or not it’ll be hard enough. Even with one cylinder the rigidity I’ve gotten is very impressive. I can feel the harder end of the cylinder when I touch the tip of my penis, which also will provide some control down the line. I was initially concerned that the cylinder was too close to the end of my penis and that I was at risk of erosion, but apparently this is normal and as long as I can move the skin around the tip I should be okay. I’ve not noticed any pressure points or weird colour change due to it, so I’m not too concerned.

Goossen also managed to squeeze in a medium sized testicular implant in my right side. I was ecstatic hearing this, as I thought I’d only be able to fit in the smallest implant possible as he was uncertain if I could get an implant at all due to the size of my scrotum. So yay! Upon inspection he noted that both the pump and implant are sitting a touch higher than he wanted them to, but that is mainly due to all the swelling and hopefully I’ll be able to coax them down a little once the swelling dissipates. If they don’t budge, I can either leave them if they don’t bother me, or I can have another surgery to move them down again. I’m just gonna wait and see how it goes, I’m definitely not in any rush to have any more surgery unless I really have to.

I have two incisions on either side of my groin, one for the pump and one for the implant. I’m changing my dressings every couple of days, and they’ve actually been staying pretty clean and aren’t weeping much. I’m dressing them with steri strips and a large cutifilm dressing. Because of the location and the swelling, it’s a touch difficult to actually apply them, but we did our best.

Pain wise, I’m managing pretty well. As long as I take my ibuprofen and paracetamol regularly, I can usually tolerate it. I’m taking targin in the morning when I first wake up (when the pain is at its highest once everything wears off during the night) but I don’t need anything stronger during the day. I’m also taking oral antibiotics twice a day, which is a lot easier to remember compared to the 2 part regimen I was on after stage 2.

My only concerns at the moment are that I’m keeping my penis straight enough, as I don’t want to influence how it’ll heal, and infection. I’ve had no sign of infection at all, but it’s definitely scary as the consequence of the implant being infected is so huge. Im just monitoring myself, but I definitely am anxious about it, even though I have no real need to be.

One other thing to note is that I definitely can’t leave the house looking like this. The device is very obvious, and I am very conscious of it. I’ve just been wandering around carrying a strategically placed empty tote bag specifically to cover myself up, and that has worked like a treat. It’s way too hot to wear extra blankets anyway 😂 I’m just currently rocking my surgery pants, which are gym shorts a good 3 sizes too big, and a long T-shirt. I’m not planning on leaving the house anytime soon though, but even hanging out at home with my family friends feels awkward. my partner Maddy arrived on Saturday, and has done an excellent job at fetching me things so I don’t need to move, and checking to see if the coast is clear if I forget my decency bag. Honestly, this must be true love 😂🥰

I’ve got an appointment with Goossen on Tuesday morning, and I’ll probably make another update after that. All things considered this recovery has been worlds smoother than stage 1 and 2, and I’ve felt pretty comfortable.

Let me know if you have any questions as usual and I hope you have a good day!

#transman #lgbtq #trans #trans man #transguy #trans guy #phallo #lukes phalloplasty #phalloplasty #rff #rff phallo #rff phalloplasty #stage 3 #transgender #ftm #ftm trans #ftm australia #trans australia #dr goossen

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leta-the-strange · 5 years

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Spoiler-free COG feelings/essay/thoughts before I see the movie. Spoiler-free because the movie isn’t out here til the end of the week but obviously, I’ve picked up info from trailers and interviews and things like that so sort of common knowledge stuff but I guess if you’ve avoided all the promos for the year I wouldn’t want to ruin it for you now so don’t read until after you’ve seen it if that’s the case (again, I only know basic info).

I have a lot of feelings that I’ve been sitting on for a while because frankly, large parts of the Fantastic Beasts and Harry Potter fandom terrify me. It’s why in my nineteen years (okay, thirteen years – I had to learn how to read) I’ve distanced myself from engaging in the fandom too much and when I do, I try and stick to as safe, neutral content as possible.

But I’m going to write a little bit a lot (my anxiety’s poppin off the charts right now) not to antagonise anyone or personally offend people just to get this pent up crap off my chest before I see the movie.

I have Māori and Pākehā parentage. Although I am proud to be a Māori girl and I’m definitely not white-passing, I do acknowledge that out of my family, I was born with the lightest skin and being a lighter-skinned/mixed poc among my family and friends has made me recognise my privilege. That isn’t to say I haven’t experienced lifelong struggles with racism, bullying and discrimination but I will never experience the same micro-aggressions and experiences that they have. Although, I do have light-skinned privileges and I don’t ever want to take away the struggles of my family that I won’t experience on the same level, growing up looking a little different opened me up a lot of feelings of invalidation within my own culture. When I experienced racism as a child, I was also met with disdain for being upset about it when I wanted to talk about it. This was when I was a child and I didn’t understand lighter skinned privilege or the animosity from some of my own people. I am far more educated now, but during that confusing time I, like most children, turned to literature (which in turn is what helped me make sense of the world).

I’ve gotten a little off track – this isn’t overly important to what I’m writing about, but it is introducing my opinion as coming from a woman of colour who has experienced racism and horrible bullying, but I always feel the need to clarify my position as a lighter skinned poc before giving my opinion based on those experiences.

Obviously from my content, I love Leta Lestrange. Perhaps it started out as a matter of representation, but I feel like over the past year, I have become intrigued with her for a number of reasons. She’s striking me as a Sirius, Regulus and Andromeda Black type character. Different to her family and caught in a struggle of light and dark (magic, not skin colour). Loves magical creatures. I haven’t seen it yet but it seems like she is one of the centre point characters of the film. She seems to be connected to many of the main characters in one way or another and has always striked me as the most intriguing.

I really do hope I am wrong but the ‘other’ love interest’s in the Harry Potter universe are usually treated terribly. They experience character assassination to further the development of the canon/new interest.

I really hope this film doesn’t do the whole blow out a woc character to make the white, self-insert, classically beautiful, ‘im not like other girls’ character shine brighter.

Before everyone comes for me, I wouldn’t say I’m a Tina ‘anti’ whatever that is. There’s no like extreme hatred at all! I would say I don’t like Tina as a character, or Queenie for that matter. Not yet anyway. The new trailer gives me hope that this movie might win me over finally. It doesn’t need to be upsetting or offensive to anyone. There are lots of people out there with favourite and not-so-favourite characters. A lot of people dislike Ron, Dumbledore, Snape, even Harry…and there are people who have those characters as their favourite.

There are a lot of reasons I don’t like Tina and Queenie. I may address them in a different post if being vague upsets people more than going in-depth but at this point, I am trying to stay as unconfrontational as possible but I have seen people get extremely furious when they don’t deem your reason for disliking them to be ‘good enough’ so if not saying exactly what I find uncomfortable about them is not as preferable as telling people then I can write it up as respectfully as possible if I’m treated the same way. All I’ll say is that I think Tina is a good person, but, in my opinion, not a great character. Queenie is the opposite. I would not like Queenie as a person but I have to admit, she’s a good character. But I’ll hold the rest of my opinions until after the second film.

Honestly, the film adaptions leave some of my favourite book characters to be desired. Maybe if FB was a novel, I’d like Tina but I really dislike her in the movies. I have seen people blow up when this is said. I try to understand the outrage. I think one of the reasons I dislike Tina is one of the reasons why people love her. She is, at this point and in my opinion (which is ONLY an opinion), a self-insert character. Any Newt x Reader fanfiction can easily read as a Newtina fanfiction and vice versa. I know. Because I’m a FB fanfiction writer myself and tried to write her. Sometimes when you attach yourself to a character so much, it can feel personally offensive when someone says something as harmless such as they don’t like then. I don’t experience this as often. Every Reader/OC fanfiction is, perhaps unintentionally, but nearly always aimed at a white person in description. In actuality, nearly every character in literature is, intentionally or not, described with textbook white features or assumed white by the fandom/readers/watchers.

I know people are going to hate this opinion because I’ve seen people jump down other people’s throats when this gets brought up. I do believe, whether it is conscious or not, Leta not being white COULD, subconsciously, be a factor as to why she is so inherently hated. I’ve seen more hate for Leta than any other character – even the antagonist! I hate what they did to Lavender Brown, book and movie wise, but even she, being as over exaggeratedly unlikable as a romantic plot device, received and still receives far less fandom hate than Cho Chang (who was also eventually written to be ‘jealous, hysterical, unlikeable’, etc, etc – I don’t agree btw I love, understand and appreciate Cho and Lavender) who was smart, talented, kind, traumatised, and until it was no longer convenient to the main characters romance for her to be ‘likeable’ anymore.

I wish I could enjoy going through the Leta tag but often, her and Newt can’t even be in a scene or photo together and people lose their minds with anger and hate. Literally, the comments on any scene/photo they are in are all along the lines of ‘stay away from newt!/poor tina/urgh, don’t flirt leta/leta WHAT ARE YOU DOING?’. Sorry, to break it to you guys but it isn’t a love triangle. It’s a love conga line. The only person getting in the way of ‘Newtina’ is Newt. Instagram is even worse. By worse, I mean horrible beyond belief. The better comments are the ones are the ones merely (though still grossly) comparing her to Tina and how much they dislike her, the other ones are wishes that she’ll get killed or join Grindelwald. It’s literally not even hidden the fact they wish either of these things happen so Newtina can happen faster. I’m not a Newtina shipper at all (Yet. Again, this might change if the films improve) but this would be one of the worst ways to further your ship. That is literally not going to change the fact that Newt’s still in love with her (you can have feelings for two people at the same time. The filmmakers confirmed - in fact, one of the first things about the new movie that they confirmed - that Newt is ‘absolutely still in love with her’), it just makes her conveniently unattainable. I do have a feeling that Leta might die and if it happens, it better not be because she’s unwillingly in the way of a ‘love triangle’ that people have forced these three characters into. If Newtina is going to happen in a way that isn’t awful, rushed and horrible, it will be slow-burn and it’s in own time AFTER Newt has healed and properly fixed things with Leta. You can’t be best friends and in love with someone for 15+ years and fall out of love with them immediately after they die, turn bad and settle for a woman you met for like two days and collectively spent maybe ten hours with. It might be a Ron/Hermione situation where it’s slow and eventual. That’s the only way I could possibly get on board and I think it could be done tastefully if they don’t resort to lazy writing. I do have my fingers crossed I’ll start to like the Goldsteins before this happens and I can enjoy it as much as everyone else does.

To be honest, after seeing the trailers, I see only two endings for Leta (and I hate them BOTH):

She joins Grindelwald: If this is the plot twist, it’s the shittiest plot twist ever. Pretty much 90% of the fans since seeing the first film have assumed/liked to believe she’s pure evil. Probably the characters themselves all assume she’s evil from her last name. I was worried the whole ‘haha, I was on Grindelwald’s side all along!’ situation was going to happen. We know JK hates Slytherins. My ‘Leta joins Grindelwald’ theory would be that she has always been on the good side – or trying to be – and after YEARS of oppression and discrimination and being distrusted by maybe the central characters in this film no matter how hard she tries AND maybe finally realising that Newt isn’t going to ever forgive her she just snaps and goes all ‘f*ck you guys then’ (I wouldn’t blame her tbh). HOWEVER, I doubt this. In a trailer, you literally see Leta THROW a fucking spell STANDING BY HERSELF (what u doin bby?) at Grindelwald. Trust me, if this was Tina it would have been all everyone was talking about but of course the fandom was all ‘yeah, see, she’s in the same frame as Grindelwald SHE’S EVIL’. One of the trailers is literally titled Leta vs. Grindelwald. Everything in the trailers/promos points to Queenie joining Grindelwald but *shrugs, I guess*.

Leta dies: I get this may seem the preferable way to appease the Leta haters and the Leta lovers especially if she dies after redeeming herself or heroically or whatever but urgh, no. I know everyone’s like ‘DoNt MAKe ThIS AbOUT RaCe’ when the woc character inevitably is killed but I’m sorry. To have been able to sit in a theatre as a little girl and see Leta Lestrange in the wizarding world would have blown my tiny mind. Honestly, as an older teen seeing Zoe Kravitz in that little photo frame in Newt’s case in the first film was iconic enough for me. After growing up being made to believe I was ‘unattractive’ because of how I looked, seeing total dreamboats like Callum Turner and Eddie Redmayne’s characters being all heart-eyes over Leta is, like...wow! And I do have an uncomfortable truth for people who want Leta to die. That would possibly be the WORST thing to happen for the Newtina thing (would pretty much be the last nail in the coffin for me ever coming around to it). I’ve seen it happen in my family when someone you love dies. Your feelings for them essentially FREEZE. You can’t fall out of love with someone who is dead. That’s of course not to say that you don’t love again and just as much as the first time. But it takes time (LOTS of it) and there’s a little part of your heart that’s like…permanently sealed off. I don’t even like Newtina yet and I’m hoping for the sake of the Newtina fans that Leta doesn’t die because freakin’ yikes. Just let them heal and connect and be besties again goddammit, its POSSIBLE (and bet your ass I’ll write it my god damn self to prove it if they don’t).

I know these are highly unpopular opinions and I HOPE that I am wrong, and they do her character justice and don’t discard her via death or the dark side.

In summary, I suppose my biggest struggle with Leta’s character is definitely the overwhelming fandom hate which I still can’t quite comprehend. I really want to believe it isn’t a race thing. Though, I have seen horrible posts about Leta, mean comments on nearly every Leta promo, Zoe Kravitz literally being called a c*nt in the comments of a Leta post on tumblr, a lot of fanfictions having her be primarily evil, selfish, manipulative, in some a rapist even, ugly, cruel, etc. But honestly, she’s literally not interfering in Newt having a relationship with anyone at all??? She’s literally been villainised because her friend can’t get over her (getting Snily nostalgia). But buggered if I’ve been able to find next to anything of that calibre about Jacob’s fiancée (literally a Queenie doppelganger) who left him, like, the day he met Queenie. I get that it was a deleted scene for those non-hardcore fans, but Leta-hate was literally kicked off by a picture in a photo frame and a comment made by a, in my opinion, kind of not-nearly-as-infallible-as-people-think character that barely knows Newt breaking into his head non-consensually (after being repeatedly told not to) who had an agenda to hook him up with her sister. Sooo…*shrugs*.

Even I personally have tried to keep out of the fandom debates, but I wrote a Leta and Newt story (still ongoing) that I stopped for a while because the kind of disgusting comments I was receiving about people hating the pairing. Which, I get. You don’t like a pairing, that’s cool? Why are you going and seeking out a piece about them and then taking the time to leave a comment? Whenever I start to read a story about Leta being this horrific monster of a person and being torn apart and compared and occasionally borderline racist, I just…click out? I know it’s only a small patch of weeds in what is likely a garden of roses, but I have never come across such an insecure fandom for a literal canon ship. If the relationship was that pure and strong, you wouldn’t feel the need to kill or villainise the (non-existent) ‘threat’. I just hope the writers feel the same way. You can write healthy closures and strong women of colour characters without casting them aside for plot development/man pain/stereotypical Caucasian romance/plot device, etc... I’m going to go into the theatre at the end of the week slightly optimistic to be fair but I’m also fully expecting to be disappointed but honestly, Leta could avada kedavra every character and she’s still going to be my favourite, I don’t make the rules.

#fantastic beasts and where to find them #fantastic beasts #fantastic beasts the crimes of grindelwald #leta lestrange #not going to put this in any other character tags bc my anxiety is poppin #ive also been avoiding the leta tags because im trying to keep focused on not spoiling anything but its hard as hell #pls dont spoil it for me in the comments if you decide to comment

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ashleighxx · 7 years

Text

There's a time and place to die, but this ain't it.

Hey everyone, hope you're all doing well... Im gonna get around to finish reading all your lovely drabbles and klaroline art very soon, but I have been very rushed off my feet by demanding little kiddies... Here is my gift for the amazing ABBY! @3tinkgemini

Klaus held yet another monthly faction meeting since he came to New Orleans over a year ago. He had come to seek powerful witches to raise his brother Kol, who had died back in Mystic Falls at the hands of the Gilbert hunter, and to reacquaint himself as King of New Orleans after leaving the city in safe hands in Marcel’s care. The witches were a bit wary and cautious of his demands but nonetheless, his baby brother was brought back to the family, causing carnage in his wake.

Klaus suddenly stopped talking mid speech, mid pace, and dropped to the floor, the echo of his knees colliding with concrete filling the silence of the room. His right hand came to his chest, clutching at his grey henley, panting hard, gasping for breath. Trying to fill his burning lungs with the very air he didn't even need to survive anymore. He felt every ounce of life, of light, of love leave him in the piercing cold darkness.

The blood rushing in his ears drowned the concerned voices of his siblings, so much so that he only managed to see blurry figures flash over to him, Rebekah holding on to his shoulders, mouth opening and closing but he couldn't grasp on reality enough to hear what she said.

The room was growing heavy and dark, and the little he could see was a swirling spiral of colours.

As quick as it came over him, the darkness left him, bringing his hearing and life back into a dull existence. The light in the room was the same but his long life and artistic attention to details told him that the tone of colour he once knew was a few subtle shades more bland.

Klaus finally heard his sister’s and brother’s calls of concern, the ‘what’s going on?’, ‘what’s happening to him?’, ‘help him’ finally reaching him, calling him fully out of whatever had overcome him.

He went to stand up, to tell them he was okay, to demand to know what witch dared try to cast a spell on him, to kill them in retaliation, when his femur cracked under pressure.

Crashing back to the floor, he looked up at his sister in confusion, who stared back at him in horror. His other leg broke into pieces before his shoulders arched in pain, his answering howl bouncing around his home.

He was transforming into his wolf.

Determined not to go through the agonizing change, he tried to will his bones to change back, to stay in his human form. He was in a battle within himself, his mind demanding to stave off the change, but his wolf was stubborn and wanted to protect him.

To protect his heart.

His soul.

He finally put the pieces together, he understood what was going on.

She was gone.

Dead.

His wolf was turning from the death of his mate and he managed to croak out her name to Rebekah before letting go, growling in torment. His clothes tore into pieces, claws elongated from his fingertips and soft, grey fur covered his bare skin, his eyes becoming golden as his wolf was finally set free.

There wasn't much that had scared Rebekah throughout her long existence, her immortality ensuring she was the bigger threat. But watching her brother collapse without warning, no stench of magic in the air, had her own heart clutch in fear for him. She watched helplessly as his pain-filled eyes dimmed of all life, much worse than if he were turning the ever-elusive switch off that young vampires liked to pretend they had. She stood back as soon as she saw her brother change into his wolf, enough to be there for him but far enough to flash away if she needed to, not sure if he would recognise her. Nik surprised her though, looking at her sorrowfully before fleeing, Elijah hot on his heels like the ever dutiful brother. He would clean up after their brother while she would hold the fort here. "Well I take it the meeting is postponed. Off you go." She dismissed the witches, needing the seclusion to phone for information. She had no idea why her brother would mention her now - after all, they had left that awful, cursed town a year ago and to her knowledge he’d had no contact with the residents. The witches started to leave but Marcel and the wolf girl, Hayley, held back. She knew Marcel was just as curious as he was concerned for her brother but Rebekah had no idea why the wolf would stay. "I think I know what may be going on with Klaus." "Tell me," Rebekah demanded. She needed to know what was going on, and if the little wolf pup could shed some light, she could be more help to her brother. "It's rare-" Hayley started. "What is?" Rebekah butted in, her impatience showing. She had no time for stories. "Mates. Wolves are gifted with mates. Alphas mainly, but some betas and omegas are lucky enough to have them." "What does that have to do with Nik?" "If you let me finish," she paused, "whoever she is, he just felt his mate die." Rebekah was shocked. How had she never been aware that her brother could not only be susceptible to having a mate but to have one too. Could the blonde, baby vampire be his mate? She needed to find out if she had indeed died before she could have her proper answers. "Thank you for your information, but if you..." "I would never. No matter how many wrongdoings he has done, wolves would never go after mates or sell them out. We are as protective to other packs as we are to our own. Like I said, they are rare and we don't take them for granted. No matter the sins of the wolf who had one." She stood defiantly, her words ringing with truth. "Clear off then, I have a brother to help." Hayley nodded and walked out of the house, leaving Rebekah, Kol and Marcel alone. Rebekah swirled in Marcel's direction ready to dismiss him, threaten him, or both - she hadn't decided yet - but he beat her to it. "I'm here to help. I've told Joshua to keep the vampires at bay, not to attack any wolves and that if they see him, to let me know of his whereabouts. Hayley knows to do the same for the wolves. It's just the witches you need to be careful of, but I'm sure your very own witch siren could play his part," the vampire said. "Very well." She was grateful for his quick thinking while she had Hayley talk her ear off. "Kol, you know what to do. And should you kill anyone, you’re dealing with both Elijah and Nik. If whatever that wolf said was true, Nik will need as much power to bring her back as he can. Be careful." "I'm always careful, dear sister." Kol flashed off, ready to seduce his way to find any signs of betrayal and uprisings. Rebekah bent down towards the pile of tattered fabric that was once on her brother to find his phone, hoping he didn't have a passcode on it, and luckily enough, as she turned the device on it was unlocked. She flicked through his contacts to see a number under CF. Clicking the contact, the phone rang and rang before reaching voicemail. Hanging up, she scrolled through to find Stefan’s contact details and she thought she could chance reaching out to him. "Not now Klaus, we have too much going on here to deal with you too," he answered. She could tell he had been crying by the tone of voice he was using. "Well aren't you lucky it’s me then. I need to speak with Caroline." "You can't at the moment." "Why not?" She pressed. "Um, she's kind of not here right now." He tried to avoid the question. He knew she could detect lies and she knew he was trying to avoid the reality of the situation. "No worries, I can wait for her to return." "You may be waiting a while." His voice quieted a few notches, thick with sadness. "I know. I just needed confirmation. You’re going to have to bring her down to New Orleans as soon as possible. We have covens upon covens that can band together and bring her back. The sooner the better, Stefan." "How?" "Nik and his little spies everywhere. Don't make him tear your tiny pathetic town to pieces to get her." "But we have a lot going on here.." "No excuses. We don't need the whole rag team. You'll do just fine. I'm sure your brother can hold the fort for a little while," she mocked, hanging up on the younger Salvatore, not giving him a chance to argue. Her and Marcel worked around each other in silence. He had gone to set up some fresh clothing and some much needed alcohol for when Klaus changed back into his human form. She needed to prepare the guest room for her brother’s arrival. And his mate’s. -

Elijah had followed Niklaus to the Bayou. He kept his distance as the wolf hunted deer, rabbit and some fox; thankfully no humans were about for them to become target of his brother’s callousness.

After a few hours of hunting, his brother’s hunger dissipating, the wolf settled down and began to whine at the rising moon. A few bobcats and coyotes responded in kind, not that most humans nor vampires would be able to hear. Elijah’s hearing had been tuned in to detect anyone coming near.

Elijah waited patiently as the sun began to rise again when his phone rang, disturbing both the peaceful nature and Niklaus. Rebekah was calling to let him know the Bennett witch was nearby and he needed to get the wolf to change back into their brother.

Upon hearing some kind of news, Klaus, still in his wolf form sprinted his way back to their home, Elijah in pursuit. He was met by his siblings and Marcel in the family room, trying not to listen to the cracking of bones, and growls turning into human whimpers of pain. He poured himself and his brother a glass of bourbon in time for said brother, clothed, to receive his glass.

Downing the drink, he reached for his phone from Rebekah and dialed a contact, reaching the voicemail of Stefan Salvatore. Pacing, the whole room was eerily quiet except the echo of Niklaus’ footsteps and the phone ringing.

Calling Stefan, yet again with no answer, a knock sounded through the Mikaelson’s home, revealing Bonnie as Klaus eagerly opened it.

“Where is she?” Niklaus demanded.

“Right here mate. Thought it be best not to draw attention our way.” A British, male, voice spoke up instead of the Bennett witch. He stepped into their home cradling a body close to him, wrapped up in a soft blanket, blonde hair covering her face. To anyone it looked as if she was cradled in a lover’s embrace, sleeping.

Niklaus instantly took her body away from the dark-haired vampire and stepped back further into the house in order to let the two new guests enter. He flashed off up stairs for a brief moment, reappearing without the girl.

“Now explain who you are and what took you so long to get here.”

“Name’s Enzo,” the male introduced himself, bowing ever so slightly with some semblance of respect.

“I needed to prepare her body for the spell. I needed to make a healing salve for her heart to heal in preparation for the spell to bring her back,” Bonnie explained.

“And you couldn't do that here?”

“And make you wait longer for her return?” she bit back. “I thought with the long journey ahead of us to get here, the healing would nearly be complete. It only took us an extra hour. Was it wrong of me to give us the head start?” The witch raised her eyebrow in question, stopping his brother from replying. Obviously he was in agreement with her methods.

Miss Bennett proceeded to send the male vampire, Enzo, to grab her items from their car and was led into the family room. There she explained what transpired to lead to Miss Forbes’ untimely death and a few options she had in mind for her resurrection.

“My magic won't allow me to bring her back as she is, of course, a vampire. If she were human, I could have done it with some consequences like with Jeremy. Also, if the Other Side was still there and I were still the anchor, then I could have had someone else do the ritual and open the rift enough to let her pass back,” the witch carefully explained, trying not to set off Niklaus’ temper. “That limits the already limited options. So if you have any idea of a powerful object to tie her spirit, her life to then we can use that.”

“How powerful?” Kol questioned her. He knew the most elaborate spells and types of magic out of the family.

His knowledge would be helpful indeed, Elijah thought to himself. “Extremely, and very stable too. Her life would be tied to it. If that powerful object is destroyed, then so shall she.”

“Me.” Niklaus whispered. “I'm the most powerful creature to roam the Earth, immortal at that. Even more so if you find a way to destroy the spell my mother cast on that stake.”

“You have a lot of enemies though. You die and she’ll go right with you,” Bonnie said, her voice raised at Klaus’ idea.

“Do you not forget she’d die anyway? What with sirelines and all.”

“But if I tie her life to yours, she can’t die until you die. Or the object is destroyed,” Bonnie voiced her concerns.

“Not even a stake to the heart, head chopped off?” Kol enquired, a curious glint in his eyes.

Bonnie nodded her confirmation.

“Even better then. Tie, her life, to mine.” He demanded.

“I need a place of power to do the ritual, a graveyard, or a site where there's been a massacre?”

“Lafayette Cemetery. I can ask D to let us in,” Marcel chimed in with his suggestion, taking his phone out of his back pocket after Niklaus nodded.

Before Bonnie headed over to do the ceremony, she needed to check to see if Caroline’s heart had healed fully. The other flesh could heal once she’d returned and blood was in her system. Bonnie had asked for Rebekah's assistance, surprising them both, but she needed the vampire strength to turn the body over. She had been right to wait the extra hour to start on the healing balm, the journey had given them the head start they needed and the organ was now healed. Rebekah had brought some fresh clothing and suggested they change her outfit, one more fitting to be seen in front of others. Bonnie thought it was more for her brother’s emotional state than anything, but she didn't mind. She was actually glad she didn't have to see any evidence of her best friend’s death, so she helped tug on the white, flowy dress over the grey, ashen skin. There hadn't been enough time to register what had happened before Stefan had a phone call from the original sister demanding Caroline's body. Damon didn’t want to risk leaving Elena alone with the heretics around town and Stefan needed to stay to keep his mother distracted. Stefan had asked Enzo to take her to New Orleans, not that Bonnie minded, having grown closer to the vampire. He had really been a good friend to Caroline lately in her absence in the prison world, so she knew he wanted to be there for whatever Klaus wanted to do. Knowing the power that Louisiana drew, the amount of covens that lived in the state, and the fact of Klaus' obsession with her friend when he had been in town, Bonnie deduced that he wanted to bring her back to life. So on the drive, she studied her grimoire for any ways to revive Caroline. It wouldn't be easy, but she didn't want any other witch to do this job, someone she didn't know, didn't trust. As much has she hated Klaus and the Original family, other witches could loathe him more, enough to destroy any sort of happiness he could have, and if messing with brining Caroline back could hurt him, they probably would intervene. Knowing she would have a long, draining night ahead of her, Bonnie, under Enzo's orders, had made sure she caught a few hours sleep on the way. Gathering her strength to prepare for the long day ahead of her.

She made her way downstairs where the dark-skinned vampire, Marcel, escorted her and Enzo, her box of supplies and grimoire in hand, to the cemetery. He mentioned there would be a witch there to help her set up the ritual site for tonight and to invite Enzo inside.

As soon as she stepped onto the site after introductions were made, she was instantly hit with a wave of power. The young witch, Marcel’s friend - Davina - eyed Bonnie.

“Can you feel the ancestors?” She asked, curious.

“No. The tragic deaths that has happened on the grounds.”

Even though it was a cemetery that held mainly witches, it was the raw power of devastating deaths that had happened on the grounds itself that she was more consumed with. She knew this was a great place to bring her friend back, just as long as the local covens didn't interrupt or interfere.

Davina implied that they would be left alone tonight, only her and another warlock, Vincent, who was also the regent of all the covens to observe. Obviously not trusting the Mikaelsons, but not wanting to stop a fellow witch, even if it would help Klaus in the process.

The four of them found a large enough space to draw a salt circle and pentagram that would hold both Caroline and Klaus inside. Candles had been placed around the circle on the floor and scattered on tombs ready for her to light when everyone was gathered.

Just as she opened the box she brought down with her to get her grimoire out to check over the spell the Mikaelsons found them. Klaus cradled Caroline in his arms. Bonnie hadn't noticed the sun had set, the cemetery encased in darkness, as she had been too busy focusing on preparations.

She gestured now to Klaus, steering him and Caroline into the circle and she told him to lay beside her. Stepping into the circle, she walked over to Caroline’s body first, moving one of the hands placed over her chest and bringing it down to the floor, close to Klaus. Bonnie then took Klaus’ hand and placed it next to Caroline’s.

The Bennett witch took out the blade from her witch’s chest and explained to Klaus that she would have to cut Caroline's palm, then his, to join them as one. That if the spell was working, his blood would be drawn into Caroline, leaving him dessicated and that Caroline would be brought back. Explaining the last detail would be the consequence. If Caroline didn’t feed Klaus the blood that ran through her veins, then her spirit would wither away. If she did feed him her blood in return, the ritual would be complete and she would be bound to the hybrid.

Stepping back outside, Bonnie lit the remaining candles around the circle, the ones on the tombstones already lit.

She took a deep breath and started to chant lowly, absorbing the power around her more and more the louder she got.

Spiritus venti,

Spiritus sub pedibus nostris,

Spiritus animari!

Caroline’s body was slowly obtaining its pinky colour, Klaus’ turning grey in turn. The spell was working, taking its time, and Bonnie started to feel the power wear out. Her hand stretched in front of her, palms up and shaking under the strain of the spell. She knew the two bystanders wouldn't help her out, but a hand being placed inside hers firmly drew her attention up to hazel eyes.

“Channel me, darling.” Kol prompted as she stood there staring at him.

With new vigor and added power, she continued to chant.

Spiritus venti,

Spiritus sub pedibus nostris,

Spiritus animari!

With a startled gasp followed by a strangled scream, Caroline was brought back to life.

She woke up screaming, eyes scrunched closed, clawing at her own skin before she could vaguely hear chanting. Hear the crackling of fire, felt its heat around her. Sense his presence next to her. Taking a few calming breaths, Caroline opened her eyes to a strange and terrifying sight. Klaus was dead, or as dead as the original hybrid could be. He had no blood, marks or holes in his chest after a quick glance over, but it seemed he was desiccated. Instinctively, she pulled her wrist towards her mouth and tore into her pale flesh. She shuffled the small distance to his body and pushed her bloody wound into his mouth, feeling his tongue respond to her taste. His grey skin turned pink as his veins filled anew with her blood. The top half of her body collapsed over his body, her hair covering her face from prying eyes as she tried to tame her inner turmoil. She had no idea where she was. No idea what had happened to Klaus. All she could manage right now was to feel his tongue against her torn flesh, pulling mouthfuls of blood until he was satisfied. His trembling hand brushed through her blonde waves, parting them so he could touch her skin, see her eyes. "It worked. You’re alive," she heard him whisper in awe, drawing her eyes to his in shock. What did he mean by alive? She thought. When did I die? No sooner had the thought rushed into her mind when she remembered what had happened.

The gang had finally defeated Kai, a little setback with Elena being in a magical coma, but she had every confidence that the Salvatores and Bonnie would defeat the odds, as usual, and find the loophole to nature's balance.

They thought that they could concentrate on the spell, but the very next day, Mama Salvatore decided to wage war on Mystic Falls with her band of Heretics.

The town square was littered in dead bodies, blood staining the concrete under the victims she had grown up with. Had welcomed to the community. Had waved hello to in many of the town events.

She wasn’t too concerned with all the Salvatore family drama, she was heart broken for her childhood town and she wanted the heretics gone, dead or alive, she did not mind at all.

That’s what led Caroline to side with Damon, of all people, to help kill his mother, but like all plans the elder Salvatore concocted, it all went down hill.

Fast.

An unexpected stake to the heart and Caroline had watched the life fade away from her and descended into the cold.

The fiery heat that she first awoke to had faded at some point, and Caroline knew there were others around her. But all she knew, all she wanted, all she needed was to be wrapped up in Klaus. She brought her face closer to his, and his lips met hers as she tried to convey how sorry she was. Sorry she was terrified. Sorry she hadn’t come to him sooner. Sorry she’d died. Thankful he had somehow brought her back. Thankful that they could have that opportunity of being each other's last loves. Caroline didn't realise she had started to cry until his thumb wiped away a tear that escaped. They had stopped kissing and she leant her forehead against his, still determined not to leave his warmth for fear she’d return to the piercing, cold, dark otherworld she’d ended up in, now that the Other Side was gone.

REVIEW HERE :)

#klaroline #klaroline fanfiction #Ashleigh's fanfiction #klaroline vacay

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dong-hyucks · 7 years

Note

bts yoongi angst w/ a fem reader? it doesnt matter how it happens but sad end please~ im in a bad mood

Prank Call ; Suga

Characters: Suga (Yoongi) / fem!ReaderGenre: Angst // WARNING: Mention of death, murder(ish, not really), and blood. Do not read if you are not comfortable with these topics. Minor swearing.A/N: tbh yoongi is barely in this lmao

Masterlist

You felt light on your feet as you walked around the kitchen. The aroma of various foods, specifically Yoongi’s favourites, flooded your senses as well as your apartment. Behind you, Seokjin stood at the stove, stirring a pot of regular kimchi. You, admittedly, were not by any means a good cook. However, you did want to have a special dinner with Yoongi, since he had been so busy and stressed lately (more than usual, anyway), so you called the group’s eldest over for help.

Catching a sight of you humming as you helped with minor things, Seokjin chuckled. “You sure are happy,” he chortled. “I guess you can say you’re eggcited.” Following his pun, Seokjin held up a nearby egg. With a forced laugh, you pat his shoulder.

“Your jokes only work on Jimin, Jin.”

“What? Unbelibubble.”

“Kim Seokjin.”

“Right, sorry.” Turning his focus away from his jokes and toward the food, Seokjin grew quiet. You let out a small chuckle at his behaviour, going back to cutting vegetables. Before either of you could progress much, your phone rang. Bounding over to it, you placed the device in the crook of your neck, walking back to the kitchen slowly. Seokjin looked up for a second before going back to adding various things to the kimchi.

“Hello?”

“Hey.” Yoongi’s voice rang in your ears. You smiled instantly, leaning against the countertop as you listened to him speak. “I’m sorry that I’m still not there,” he began with an undertone of regret, “you said you wanted to have dinner, right?”

You waved it off, “It’s fine, Yoongles–”

“I told you not to call me that.”

“– you said you were going to be a bit late anyway. I can wait.”

When you heard him sigh, you felt your smile slowly slipping away. “That’s the thing. I don’t want you to wait because I can’t make it.” Suddenly, your heart dropped. “I still haven’t finished this song and management expects me to get it done by tomorrow. If I come over now I won’t be able to.”

Filled with disappointment, along with irritation, you openly frowned. “But Yoongi, today is our–”

“Wait,” you heard him talking to someone, but not clearly enough for you to figure out what they were saying. “Sorry, what’s today?”

You felt your eyes water. You weren’t even sure if the tears were because of hurt or anger. You knew he was busy and all but how could he forget such an important day? “What?” he spoke again, not to you. “[Y/N], I have to get back to work. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

He hung up. Seokjin looked at you with a raised brow. “He’s not coming,” you mumbled with a sigh. Seokjin gasped, dropping the spoon in his hand into the pot. You raked a hand through your hair in frustration.

“What do you mean he’s not coming?”

“Exactly what it sounds like, Jin. He has to work,” your voice cracked as you turned away from him. You glared at the cutting board in front of you; its normally white surface now splashed with a plethora of different colours from the vegetables. Rather than disappointment, anger coursed through your veins at the thought of your boyfriend. “He didn’t even remember what today was.”

Seokjin frowned, attempting to bring you into a hug. You, however, pushed away his arms and crossed your own. Slightly hurt by your actions, his frown deepened. “Maybe I can call him and persuade him to take the day off,” he suggested.

Shaking your head, you dug your fingernails into the skin of your arm. “It’s fine, Jin.” You looked away, “I’m sorry, but I think you should go. I appreciate the help, but I’m not in the mood right now.”

You didn’t bother to see him out the door as you trudged toward your bedroom. Though you didn’t even live with him, the room felt huge without Yoongi. It was empty and cold, despite the hot August weather. It felt like winter. You could hear the front door closing as Seokjin left but paid no attention to it. Falling back onto your bed, you stared up at the ceiling.

Your mood had drastically dropped. No longer upbeat and happy, you looked up with vexation. With a sudden strike of creativity, or what you’d like to think was creativity, you went back to the kitchen to retrieve your phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Jungkook. Random question, but how do you feel about pranks?”

You giggled quietly as you got into position. The wet, cold feeling of the flour-cranberry juice concoction gave you goosebumps as you laid upon it. Above you, Jungkook held a bowl of the liquid. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked for the umpteenth time since he had arrived at your apartment. He wore a look of worry as he fiddled with the rim of the bowl.

You rolled your eyes at him. “He forgot our anniversary, Kook. He had this coming.” You grinned up at him, “Besides, don’t you want the free food I promised?”

Jungkook nodded sheepishly, closing his eyes. “Do it for the free ramyeon,” he chanted to himself quietly. You cleared your throat. Cheeks flushing, Jungkook moved quickly, dipping a straw into the bowl. After gathering enough of the juice within the straw he dropped them over different parts of your body, focusing on your abdomen. “Done,” he murmured, looking guilty again.

You scoffed. “Stop it with that look. If you feel so bad, I won’t tell him that you were involved.” Jungkook looked at you with wavering eyes, silently agreeing to your idea. “Now get out of here before he comes. He said he was going to get here soon.”

Without a word, Jungkook scrambled out of your apartment (after dumping the bowl in the sink) and closed the door haphazardly. You looked at your watch. 1:27, Yoongi said he’d visit at 1:30 if you were willing. You, of course, agreed.

Not too long after Jungkook had left, you heard the door opening. You could hear Yoongi mumbling something about your lock and tried to refrain yourself from smiling. “[Y/N]?” His tired, raspy voice sounded loud against the silence of your apartment. Thankful that you took drama in high school, you opened your mouth.

“Yoongi,” you sputtered with a cough. Your voice sounded weak, just as you had hoped. You heard fast footsteps heading to the living room followed by an audible gasp. Yoongi came into view as he hovered over you, his face contorting into one of extreme panic. You said his name again, this time coughing out the juice you had kept in your mouth. You groaned, placing a hand against your stomach.

His eyes went down to your abdomen, where most of the juice had been. “What happened?” he choked, hugging your ‘weak’ frame to his own. “Fucking hell,” he mumbled, his grip on you tightening. “I need to call an ambulance–” his voice wavered as he felt around his pockets for his phone.

You stopped him, taking hold of his wrist with your hand. “I don’t think–” cough, “– they’ll get here fast enough,” you choked out. You scrunched your face up in what you hoped looked like pain. Yoongi stared down at you, wide eyed. His eyes were glazed over as he was on the verge of tears.

Shaking his head, he hugged you tighter, burying his face in your neck. You glanced over his shoulder as he did so, glancing at the clock. You bit your lip before going limp in his arms. Soon, your eyes flitted closed and your lips locked in an attempt to hold your breath.

Feeling your body go limp, Yoongi pulled away and held a hand to your face. “No,” he sobbed, repeating the word over and over again frantically, holding his ear over your mouth in hopes of feeling your breath fan across his face. When it didn’t, he broke. He started to sob, hugging you once again. “[Y/N]”, he whimpered, his tears falling atop your cheeks.

Opening your eyes quickly, you quietly laughed. Yoongi froze in his actions, looking at you incredulously. “Got you,” you whispered slyly. You wore a smug smirk as you looked up at him. You could practically see the cogwheels spinning as he tried to make sense of the situation. His expressions changed more times in that one minute than you had seen in the past month.

With an expression you knew as recognition, Yoongi dropped you. Ignoring your small groans of pain, he stood up, pants coated with the juice. “What the fuck?” he spat, glaring at you. When you chuckled at his reaction, he seemed to grow angrier. “Did you think that was funny? [Y/N], for God’s sake, I thought you died!”

Sitting up, you had a deadpan look on your face. “That was the point, sweetheart,” you drawled sarcastically. “That’s what you get for forgetting our anniversary–”

Yoongi shook his head, backing away from you. “You scared the living hell out of me, all because I forgot an anniversary?” When you looked dead serious, he sneered. “Wow,” he whispered, “I didn’t think you were this fucking childish.”

Narrowing your eyes, you stood up, ignoring the trail of cranberry juice travelling down your back. “Childish? You had this coming, Yoongi. You forgot such an important date–”

“There will be more anniversaries, [Y/N].” His interruption kept you quiet. “Just because I forgot one doesn’t mean you have to be an idiot and do this.” Yoongi looked sick. With another shake of his head, he walked away.

Following him, you furrowed your eyebrows together. “Where are you going?” You asked, your voice cold, “we aren’t done here.”

He turned on his heel, glaring at you with full force. You stopped dead in your tracks, a chill running down your spine at the sight of him. “No, [Y/N]. As a matter of fact, we are done,” he growled, turning to leave.

Your front door slammed shut, leaving you standing in the hallway, drenched in cranberry juice as you stared at where Yoongi once stood. Indignation filled your entire being as you let out a huff of annoyance.

“He’ll get over it,” you told yourself stubbornly, “he’ll get over it and then he’ll see that he was being an asshole for no reason.”

Yoongi returned to the dorm, covered in cranberry juice and insatiably annoyed. Jungkook and Hoseok, who had been talking on their couch, looked up at him in shock. “What happened to you?” Hoseok asked, knowing not to joke when Yoongi was pissed.

“My childish brat of a girlfriend thought it’d be a good idea to prank me just because I forgot our anniversary,” he answered coldly, throwing his jacket onto a nearby dining chair with little to no care. He grumbled on, looking down at his clothes in complete and utter irritation.

Guilt flooded Jungkook once again at the sight of him. He nervously gnawed at his lip, his fists clenching as he broke out in a cold sweat. Before Yoongi could disappear down the hallway, presumably to take a shower, he called out to him.

“Wait!”

Yoongi turned, now void of emotion as he stared down the youngest. He gulped, feeling the eyes of both him and Hoseok on him. “I have a confession,” he stuttered, gripping onto his own shirt nervously. “[Y/N] called me over earlier and asked me to help her with,” he trailed off, looking down guiltily. The room went completely silent.

Hoseok, who had no idea what truly happened, appeared more shocked than Yoongi did. Yoongi, instead, looked betrayed and furious. “You knew what she wanted to do to me and you helped her?”

Jungkook admitted to what you had promised him in return, his voice growing quiet as he realized how stupid he had been to agree. Yoongi looked beyond angry at that point, his breathing growing heavier as he glared at him. “I can’t believe you two,” he uttered, his voice low. The disappointment in his voice hit Jungkook hard, but he had no choice but to accept it. He watched as Yoongi stomped down the hall, followed by the slam of the bathroom door.

Following the loud noise, the rest of the members filled the hallway in confusion.

Jungkook swallowed thickly, explaining the situation to them. He didn’t dare look up, because he knew if he did he’d be faced with the looks of disappointment.

Days had passed since then and the both of you, Yoongi and yourself, have talked. You did think of texting him, but then Taehyung sent you a recording of him saying that he doesn’t want to talk to someone with the mindset of a child. That set you off immediately. The boys had been trying to get you two to talk to each other, but to no avail.

“Come on, [Y/N],” Taehyung begged, giving you a pout. “It’s been a week. If you just apologized–”

“I have nothing to apologize for,” you muttered, changing the channel. Your eyelids felt heavy. Exhaustion was hitting you slowly but surely. “He hasn’t apologized for forgetting our anniversary, so why should I?” Taehyung let out a groan at your stubbornness, falling back on your couch. Since your anniversary, he had been coming over almost every day to try to persuade you to talk to Yoongi.

“Please? If not for yourself, think of Jungkook!” Taehyung shifted, landing in your lap as he put his hands together to beg. “Yoongi started ignoring him too and now he’s just sulking around the dorm all day. Besides, there’ll be other anniversaries.” You rolled your eyes, squinting at the TV when it suddenly blurred. When it cleared, you saw some old action movie where the main character got in a car crash; boring. Switch.

“It’s not my fault he decided to confess to helping me. I told him he didn’t have to, but he didn’t listen to me.”

Taehyung shut his eyes in what was almost annoyance as he rolled off of your lap and onto your, now slightly red, carpet. “You’re both so hard-headed,” he croaked. Shooting up into a sitting position, Taehyung rested his chin on your knee. You paid no attention to him, still trying to find something to watch. You frowned, putting the remote down for a second to pull at the collar of your shirt, moving your arm back and forth to fan yourself. Why was the room so hot?

“What if I told you Yoongi misses you?”

You snorted, “If he missed me he would’ve called by now.”

“So you do want him to call!” he exclaimed, sounding as if he just won an award for outstanding behaviour. “Oh, I’ll tell Jimin–” He stopped short, frowning as he patted his pockets. Confused, he stood to search them more thoroughly. “I forgot my phone at the dorm,” he frowned.

Taehyung peered over at you, plopping onto the couch lazily. “What did you do anyway? Yoongi came home looking pissed that day.”

“Ask Jungkook.”

Your disinterest was starting to annoy even Taehyung. You caught this, and looked over at him. “If you’re annoyed with me too, feel free to leave.”

He looked alarmed at your assumption, his emotions completely transparent. You nearly laughed despite yourself, Taehyung had always been quite expressive. “You’re kicking me out?” he asked in a quiet voice. You almost felt bad, but shrugged to hide your own feelings. He brought his brows together in confusion, “Do you not want to talk about Yoongi? Is that why–”

“Taehyung, stop.”

He shook his head. “No, listen to me. If you don’t want to talk about it, fine. But you don’t have to push us all out just because you’re irritated with him.” He gestured toward your phone, “do you know how many times they’ve texted and called you? Do you even realize that you’ve been ignoring us, or are you doing it on purpose?”

“Taehyung,” you repeated quietly, “stop.”

“Just because you’re hurting doesn’t mean you have to hurt us as well, [Y/N],” he said with a sigh. “We’re trying to help you out here.”

“Then stop trying.”

There was a pregnant pause; the air thick with tension. Taehyung practically had the word hurt stamped across his forehead as he stared at you in shock. Your voice had come out much harsher than you had intended, but you couldn’t turn back time to take it back. What’s been said has been said.

Without a word, Taehyung stood from your couch. You were surprised as he walked before you, toward your front door. You couldn’t believe he actually took your words seriously and was leaving. The sound of your door closing sounded deafening, even against the buzz of your TV. You let out a pathetic laugh.

“I guess everyone’s leaving me.”

You leaned back, unknowingly leaning against the remote that you had tossed aside beforehand. The channel switched to a rerun of Weekly Idol, a show you usually enjoyed. This time, however, you couldn’t see yourself enjoy the episode. You watched as the camera panned in on Yoongi as he laughed, the familiar sound clouding your mind. Turning away from the TV, you turned it off with the click of a button.

You threw your head back against the couch, closing your eyes in thought. A bead of sweat slowly trailed down the side of your face. Thinking back to what Taehyung had told you, you frowned. Was he right? Memories of and with the boys made you feel melancholic.

No, you shook your head defiantly, I’m not the one at fault here. They’re trying to get me to talk about something I don’t want to. Don’t they realize that they’re the ones hurting me? You stood up, walking to the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of water.

Yeah. It’s not my fault that things have gone to hell.

You drank your water in one go, or at least– you attempted to (you missed your mouth a bit), leaning over the counter in exhaustion. Water dripped down your chin, falling to the marble countertop slowly. Your phone went off but you couldn’t have been bothered to go check it. With an angry cry, you pulled at your hair. The entire situation with Yoongi was stressing you out, with him ignoring you and the boys crowding you. You fell to your knees, right in the middle of your kitchen, bringing the empty glass with you. You paid no heed to the shattered glass as it pierced the skin of your legs. Silently, your back hit the cold tiles as your eyes fluttered shut.

What if…

What if you are at fault?

“[Y/N], I’m back and I brought– oh my God!”

“Taehyung, hurry! Call an ambulance!”

Jungkook and Taehyung were in the waiting room of the hospital. Since the ambulance arrived and brought you to the hospital, they had yet to be informed of your condition. Taehyung paced back and forth while Jungkook sat tapping his foot. “Sit down,” Jungkook mumbled, dropping his head into his hands. “You’re making me dizzy.”

Taehyung quietly sat down, fidgeting with the sleeve of his sweater nervously. With a shaky breath, he took his phone out of his pocket and dialed a number. “Namjoon,” he whispered to Jungkook, who had looked at him quizzically. Jungkook stayed quiet as Taehyung spoke to their leader, his voice hushed as he hunched over. He noticed that he sounded quite disappointed, but chose to wait until he was done talking with Namjoon.

Taehyung swore under his breath after hanging up. “Yoongi’s being pigheaded,” he groaned, disregarding his manners. “He was with Namjoon but when he told him, Yoongi thought I was pranking him with [Y/N].” Jungkook averted his eyes to the ground, feeling responsible for Yoongi’s actions. “Hey,” Taehyung swung his arm around Jungkook’s shoulder in an attempt to console him. “It’s not entirely your fault. [Y/N] was part of the prank too. Don’t shoulder all the blame.”

Jungkook stayed silent.

“Is [Y/F/N]’s family present?” a doctor asked upon entering the room. The two stood immediately, making the doctor look at them oddly. The doctor, Lee Jieun according to her name tag, looked exhausted as she walked up to them, tapping her pen against her clipboard as she moved. Jieun stopped in front of them, eyeing the duo suspiciously. “Friends?” she assumed, raising a brow. Jungkook nodded briskly, biting down on his lip as he exchanged looks with Taehyung.

“Her family’s overseas,” Taehyung informed her. “We were the ones who found her.” The doctor nodded slowly, almost as if she didn’t believe him.

“Well, you’d probably like to know about her condition?” Jieun didn’t bother waiting for an answer before looking down at her clipboard. “She fainted due to exhaustion and dehydration. She’ll need a few days to completely recover, but all that’s needed is lots of rest and water. The glass shards didn’t cut deep, but there were quite a few cuts on her legs, so we’ve had them bandaged.” Jieun let out a sigh, “She’ll be able to go home today, but I suggest you have someone watch her. Make sure she takes care of herself for a few days.”

“I’ll do it,” Taehyung and Jungkook said in unison. They spared a glance at each other for a brief second before looking at Jieun expectantly.

She merely chuckled, gesturing behind her. “You can go see her if you’d like. You can decide what happens at home then.” Guiding the boys to your room, she opened the door for them before heading off in the opposite direction. Taehyung and Jungkook clambered into the room, both relieved to see you up.

After what Jieun had said, the presence of exhaustion was obvious on you. Taehyung cursed himself for not realizing when he had been over before. “You okay?” Jungkook asked, almost waddling to your side. Before you could answer, Jimin, Hoseok, Namjoon, and Seokjin filed into the room. You frowned when Seokjin closed the door behind him.

“Sorry we’re here so late,” Namjoon panted, sounding as if he and the boys had ran to the hospital. “We had to get the manager to drive us and we tried to convince Yoongi–” he trailed off, looking down at you. “Never mind, how are you doing?”

“Fine,” you winced. Your voice was scratchy and rough, your throat dry. Jimin handed you the water bottle he had brought with him. Thanking him quietly, you took small sips from it. Swallowing, you placed the bottle to the side. “Thanks for coming,” you murmured. “You must’ve been busy. Sorry to take you away from your schedules.”

Hoseok smiled over at you, though it seemed forced. “We had the day off,” he smiled.

The room went silent. You stared at your covered legs, hesitantly pulling at the thin blanket atop of you, revealing your bandaged legs. Small spots of blood had leaked through the bandaging in numerous areas, the sight making you wince. The boys frowned at the sight of your bloodied limbs, making you cover them hastily in embarrassment.

“What happened after I left?” Taehyung asked, his voice soft and gentle as he spoke. “How did you get hurt?” You explained what had happened in a very brief manner, excluding your previous thoughts.

“And then I just, well, fainted.” You brought a hand to your mouth, picking at the chapped skin. It was a bad habit that had ended in bloody lips in the past, but now you couldn’t care less. “I guess,” you started, “I need to sleep a bit more.”

“You guess?” Jimin frowned. He shifted his weight onto one foot. “You do need to sleep more, [Y/N]. What if you hit your head when you fell? What would’ve happened if the glass had cut you deep? You could’ve been seriously hurt.” You refrained yourself from flinching at his cold tone. “You need to stop being selfish, [Y/N],” despite his harsh words, he kept his voice soft. “Think about the people around you. We worry about you; you’re like a sister to us. And what you did with Yoongi… You went too far, anniversary or not.”

You didn’t have to look at him to know Jimin held disappointment in his eyes. Seokjin looked at him with wide eyes, mouth slightly agape. “Jimin,” he murmured. Jimin took one glance at your legs before turning around and walking out.

Namjoon glanced at everyone in the room before following after him. You heard him call to Jimin faintly, but everything sounded dull to you. “He didn’t mean that–” Hoseok tried, shooting you a tense smile. You shook your head, bringing your knees to your chest, ignoring the slight sting the action brought with it.

“He did. It’s okay,” you sighed. “I deserved that. He’s right, I’m being selfish and I’m hurting the people I care about.” Taehyung looked at you, his eyes softening when you buried your face in your arms. “I want– no, I need to apologize to Yoongi.” You looked up, making eye contact with Taehyung. “I realize, now, that what I did crossed the line.”

Hoseok grinned, pretending to wipe away his tears. “My baby’s all grown up,” he joked, lifting the room’s atmosphere instantly. Jungkook and Taehyung laughed wholeheartedly, happy that you realized what you’ve done wrong. “I’ll go ask the doctor when you can be discharged,” Seokjin said with a chuckle. He quickly left the room, leaving the four of you behind.

“By the way, Jungkook,” you said, pursing your lips. “I’m sorry for dragging you into everything. Yoongi wouldn’t be ignoring you if it weren’t for me.”

Jungkook waved it off, claiming that it was fine. “What made you change your mind?” He asked curiously. “Before you were so adamant that you weren’t in the wrong.” Taehyung nodded in agreement.

You looked away, ashamed in yourself. You watched as the cars below drove past quickly, some too quickly, the sight distracting you for a single moment. “I was thinking about it before I fainted,” you admitted, “but hearing Jimin say that… It really set it in stone. What I did was horrible. Like you said, there’ll be more anniversaries.” A weak laugh passed your lips, “Though, I’m not too sure we’ll have another after what’s happened.”

Taehyung punched your shoulder lightly, “Come on, [Y/N]! Don’t be like that, I’m sure you two will have loads of anniversaries in the future. Like,” he paused for a second, “the anniversary of when you first texted!”

“Tae, no one celebrates that.”

“Oh.”

The room went silent for a moment before the four of you laughed together. Before much could happen next, Seokjin re-entered the room with a small smile. “We can leave now if you want to, [Y/N].”

You nodded, pulling the blanket off of you. You flushed, the fact that you weren’t wearing pants suddenly hitting you. Thankfully, the doctors didn’t need the take you out of your undergarments and your shirt, but you felt bare anyway. Blushing, Jungkook looked away. Seokjin chuckled at the youngest’s behaviour, throwing you a pair of sweatpants. “I grabbed them before we left,” he told you, “they’re [member whose height is closest to yours]’s. They shouldn’t be too long.”

You thanked him before wrapping the blanket around your waist, moving away to the bathroom to slip them on. It didn’t take long before you were walking down the hallway, with you walking slower than usual. You winced every few steps, but you ignored the pain. You had other things to focus on other than your less than minor injuries, like apologizing.

Namjoon and Jimin were waiting by the entrance. You had the will to smile when Jimin glanced at you apologetically with a bashful grin. You assumed that Seokjin got the chance to relay your words and that he wasn’t irritated with you anymore.

“We had to park across the street,” Namjoon mentioned, rubbing the back of his neck. “The parking lot was completely full. It’s as if everyone within a five mile radius had to visit today.” You easily spotted their van. It was across the street, as Namjoon said, and it stood out immensely next to the various cars around it.

The seven of you moved to cross the street carefully. You lagged behind the boys a bit, but they didn’t noticed as they were too absorbed in focusing on not getting hit by passing vehicles themselves.

Time moved slowly.

You watched as the boys walked ahead of you, looking at their backs rather than the busy road. You didn’t have time to react when you heard the deafening sound of a passing car’s horn.

You didn’t have time to react when the car’s bumper struck you, sending you flying.

You didn’t have time to react when you violently landed on the back windshield of another car, consciousness losing you for the second time that day.

Yoongi mindlessly scrolled through his old photos, sprawled across the couch in a tired fashion. Namjoon sat on the other side of the couch, equally as bored as him as he zoned out on the TV, not really watching whatever was on. It had been a slow day. They had a day off before they had to go back to practicing, so they just lazed around the dorm. Jungkook and Taehyung, however, were constantly coming back and leaving.

Though they didn’t say where they were going, Yoongi could tell that they were visiting you. They had, after all, requested Seokjin to make your favourite dish before disappearing with it.

Yoongi froze, his finger hovering over his phone screen. He had come across and old photo of you and him. The photo had been taking during the early months of your relationship, the two of you still looking somewhat awkward with each other. Back then, he had more time for you, for your relationship. Before he could get too caught up in his memories, he quickly deleted the photo. He wore a scowl at the thought of you and what you had pulled on him a few days prior.

Although the anger that burned within him was strong, he still thought of you everyday. Two days after your anniversary, he had seen a plushie stand while taking a break from working. One of the plushies had reminded him of you and, despite himself, he almost bought it.

“Hello?” Yoongi looked up. He hadn’t even noticed Namjoon take out his phone. “Yeah, one second.” Namjoon pulled the phone away from his ear, placing the call on speaker. “Go ahead.”

“We have a problem,” he heard Taehyung say. “You know how we visited [Y/N]?” Yoongi’s scowl deepened. He rolled around, facing the back of the couch. He felt tempted to leave, but the serious tone Taehyung had spoken in intrigued him.

“Well, after Kook and I left, we headed straight back to her apartment. It hadn’t even been half an hour since I had left first,” he said with a sigh. “Anyway, when we returned she wasn’t in the living room like we expected her to be, so I went to put the food in her kitchen and…” When he trailed off, Yoongi turned his head slightly.

“She was unconscious,” Taehyung’s voice wavered, “and there was blood and broken glass–”

Yoongi, unconvinced, scoffed. Namjoon glanced up at him, surprised when he walked away. “We’re at the hospital,” he concluded. “If you could, do you think you could get Yoongi to come? Maybe they can work things out when she wakes up.” Taehyung sounded as if he was just reassuring himself.

Namjoon stayed quiet for a moment. “I’ll try to convince him. We’ll see you there.”

Namjoon hung up, rubbing his face as he let out a heavy sigh. Hoseok, who had just walked into the living room, looked at him with a raised brow. “What’s up?

In his room, Yoongi slipped his earphones in, blasting his music at a dangerously high volume. He sat at the head of his bed, bobbing his head to the beat as he closed his eyes. He didn’t notice Jimin barge into the room until one of the earphones had been pulled out. He opened his eyes, annoyed at the sudden intrusion. He was already in a foul mood, he didn’t need Jimin making it worse.

“Get up,” Jimin said bluntly.

Yoongi responded with a cock of his brow. “Excuse me?”

“[Y/N]’s in the hospital, so hurry. We’re going to visit her.”

Yoongi snorted, rolling his eyes as he put his earphone back in. Jimin frowned, grabbing his wrist and pulling slightly. This seemingly made things worse, as Yoongi twisted his arm out of his grasp, pulling out his earphones angrily. “Stop it,” he spat. His eyes trailed off behind Jimin, only to see the rest of the boys standing in the doorway. “I thought you were all better than this. [Y/N]’s already fucked me over once this week, I don’t need her to do it again– much less with the help of all of you. I’ve had enough of her childish pranks already; grow up.”

Jimin looked hurt when he glanced over his shoulder. Seokjin merely shook his head, gesturing for the younger boy to just leave without Yoongi. With a heavy heart, Jimin followed the boys out. Yoongi shook his head when he heard the front door open and close, followed with the loud click of their dysfunctional lock.

The dorm was empty and eerily quiet. Though, most of the time some quiet was just what he wanted it was too quiet. He sighed. Without anyone around to complain, he unplugged his phone from his earphones and blasted his music loudly and freely. He moved off his bed, opting to take a seat on the chair across it. Hunching over the desk, he decided to use his time wisely and worked away, pressing pencil against paper.

Before he even realized it, an hour and a half had passed. The boys still weren’t back yet. He laughed bitterly, “They really expect me to believe them, don’t they?” he asked himself. He’d never admit it, but part of him was itching to call the hospital and ask if they had a patient under your name.

Like the world had been reading his mind, Yoongi’s phone began to ring. He answered it without checking the caller ID and stared intently at a mark on the wall. “Hello?”

“Yoongi,” Jungkook sobbed. He repeated his name again through his hiccups. Yoongi straightened up instantly, worry filling his entire being. Jungkook usually never cried, much less sobbed. “I, oh my God,” he stuttered. He could hear distant chatter in the background, followed by yelling.

“Jungkook, what’s wrong?”

“It’s [Y/N],” he choked, sniffling loudly. “We were just about to head over to the dorms when,” he had to stop himself, his voice was shaking too much. He heard shuffling and soon he was talking to someone else.

“Yoongi, you need to get here,” Hoseok’s voice answered. He, too, was crying, and he was crying very hard. “There was a car accident; [Y/N] got hit head on.”

Yoongi stayed silent. He felt confused. With your devious personality, you might’ve very well bribed the boys to play along with your little joke again, just like you did with Jungkook. On the other hand, he trusted the boys more than anyone. Memories of Jungkook confessing to helping you with your first prank flashed in his mind, and with it came outrage. “I could’ve expected this from the younger members, but you too, Hoseok?” he said in a cold voice. Blinded by his emotions, he hung up, throwing his phone onto his bed.

Not too long after, it rang again. He let it, covering his ears as he curled up in his chair. When it stopped, he didn’t relax. His hands shook as they clenched into fists, his teeth grinding together. He didn’t get like this often, but when he did the boys knew not to mess with him.

His phone started ringing.

Annoyed beyond belief, he stomped over, and picked it up. “What the hell do you want?” he spat without thinking. There was a brief silence.

“Is this Min Yoongi?” He blinked when a voice he didn’t recognize answered. He pulled away to look at the caller ID. He didn’t recognize it either. “Hello?”

“Who is this?”

“My name is Lee Jongsuk, a doctor at the Severance Hospital. You were listed as [Y/F/N]’s emergency contact. She was just hit by a car and is in critical condition, so I’d advise that you head over as soon as possible. There is,” the doctor stopped short. “There is a very low chance of her survival.”

Yoongi’s mind went blank. His eyes were blown wide, his mouth stuck in an ‘o’ shape. When he leaned forward to let in a haggard breath, his black hair falling over his eyes. “Min Yoongi?”

“I’ll be there,” he stammered quietly.

Without a word, he hung up. He didn’t move right away, still absorbing the newfound information.

You were actually in the hospital. You got hit by a car. You could die.

When realization settled upon him, Yoongi began to panic. His past anger fading away, being replaced with the anxiety that hovered over him like a cloud. “No, no, no,” he repeated, clutching his head as his eyes began to water. The same feeling that had consumed him when he walked into your apartment that day swallowed him whole once again.

With haste and little to no caution, Yoongi scrambled out of the dorm. He didn’t have time to call for a taxi and the manager hadn’t returned yet. Cursing loudly, he began to run in the direction of the hospital. People he passed by began to talk, and it wasn’t long before he got recognized. A fan attempted to talk to him, but he was rushing too much to stop.

He knew there would be pictures taken. He knew that the world would see him in such a vulnerable state by tomorrow, but he didn’t care. His mind was focused on you. An image formed in his mind, one of you lying helplessly, covered in your own blood.

Tears fell freely from his eyes, disappearing into his hair as the wind blew them back. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a van pulled in beside him. He stopped, recognizing the vehicle as the manager’s. Yoongi quickly pulled open the door and hopped in. The boys’ manager didn’t say a word before pulling away from the curb and toward the hospital.

“Are you crazy?” he muttered, pulling out a box of tissues from the back and handing it to Yoongi. “Did you plan to run fifteen miles to get to the hospital?” Yoongi didn’t answer, too busy catching his breath. No matter how much he wiped them away, tears kept wetting his cheeks.

The rest of the ride was quiet. The manager didn’t have the will to speak and Yoongi was preoccupying himself by staring at photos of you. He quickly recovered the old photo he had deleted, thankful that it was even an option.

When they arrived, Yoongi didn’t even wait for the van to pull to a complete stop. Running toward the entrance, he bursted in and rushed to the receptionist. “I’m here for [Y/F/N],” he panted. “Where is she?”

Before the receptionist could even answer, he heard his name being called. He looked to the left, immediately spotting Hoseok sprinting over, despite a worker’s scolding. His eyes were red and puffy, still glazed over; something Yoongi noticed right away as he got closer. “Why aren’t you wearing your mask? Or at least a hat?” He whispered, pulling Yoongi in the direction he came from.

“Does that even matter right now?”

Hoseok didn’t answer, instead taking off his own cap and placing it on Yoongi’s head. “It’s fine,” Yoongi mumbled, eyes searching the hall for any sign of you. “There’s probably photos of me running on the way here anyway.”

Hoseok looked over at Yoongi with a shocked expression. “You ran here? From the dorm?”

“Almost did.”

Realizing that Yoongi wasn’t in the right mindset to answer normally, Hoseok stopped talking. They turned a corner and instantly came across the boys. Each of them were either watery-eyed or crying. “You’re here,” Jimin cried. The boy was shaking from where he stood, eyes wide and full with tears. Yoongi flinched when he noticed a drop of blood that had splashed across Jimin’s cheek, knowing very well that it was yours.

“How is she?” he croaked. He was biting back tears.

“They’re still in there,” Taehyung whispered, eyes trained on the ground as he wiped away at his dampened cheeks. Yoongi’s eyes darkened as he remembered what the doctor who had called him said.

Nothing felt as real as his fear in that very moment. He feared that the last time he saw you, he would have been glaring at you. He feared that the last time he saw you, he told you that you were done. He feared that he would never see your smile again, hear your laugh, feel the warmth of your body against his. He feared that you would die, not knowing that he loved you.

He slowly fell against the wall, sliding down it’s hard surface until he was sat on the floor. He didn’t bother wiping away his tears, nor did he look up. He sat in silence, crying.

It felt like hours had passed already, when in reality it had only been one.

Since he had arrived, Yoongi watched as several doctors rushed in and out of the operating room, the one you were in, each one entering clean and leaving with blood splattered across their uniform-clad bodies.

Suddenly, all at once, his heart shattered into a million pieces.

As a doctor pushed open the door, it was obvious, deafening even. The boys froze in their spots when they heard it.

“Patient, [Y/F/N]. Time of death, 16:03.”

And in that moment, at exactly 16:03, Yoongi could feel himself pass with you to the world of the dead.

Tiny details:

[Y/N] feeling cold/empty despite the hot August weather; reference to the line ‘even in August, winter is here’ from Spring Day

Yoongi looking at [Y/N]’s photo before deleting it; reference to the lines ‘I’m looking at your photo, time is so cruel, I hate us’ from Spring Day

‘Time of death, 16:03.’ 16:03 = # of times they say ‘I miss you’ in Spring Day : # of times they say ‘hate’ in Spring Day according to this site

if you couldn’t tell, this was inspired by Spring Day hha ^^

#bts #bts yoongi #yoongi #kpop #kpop imagine #kpop scenario #bts imagine #bts scenario #suga #bts suga #yoongi scenario #yoongi imagine #suga imagine #suga scenario

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cityofnumbersix · 6 years

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Electric Moment - Chapter 11 - Bonus 2

READ ON AO3

MOTHER POST

Bonus 2: Return of the Filler

Bonus: After The Drop-Off

Katsuki wasn’t going to lie, returning back to his own apartment after having dropped off Kirishima was kind of a bitch. They lived on completely opposite ends of the city, and trying to make his way around the stations, on and off each last train before it departed was the second most irritating thing he’d had to deal with tonight. He wouldn’t complain though, not when he’d been the one to make the decision in the first place. He knew in the back of his mind that taking Kirishima back to his own stop would mean he’d be rushing around trying to make trains before he was left stranded, but at the time all that had really mattered was making sure the redhead got home so that he didn’t have to deal with Mina’s wrath if the drunken boy got himself into any more trouble than he already had.

And maybe, somewhere, in the back of his mind, he’d wanted to partially act on the manners his parents had drilled into him from a young age. “Make sure they get home safe Katsuki” –though ‘they’ at the time had most certainly been ‘she’.

Katsuki was currently pressed back into the warm patch of seat where Kirishima had previously been sitting. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t sat down himself before, maybe it was the fear of being too close to Kirishima, of pressing their legs together, brushing their shoulders, but now that he’d sat down, he relished the relief the action brought to his legs, that he hadn’t realised were quite so tired until now.

Katsuki relaxed into the seat behind him. It was stiff, but the heat that radiated up from it was a comforting contrast to the chill he had felt when the train doors opened upon different platforms, letting in waves of the city’s early morning breeze. He tried his best not to think of Kirishima, he really did, but the harder he tried to fast his mind would flicker back to the bathroom. With his eyes pressed shut in a drowsy fashion, the memories of blood and the feeling of Kirishima’s hard abdomen under his fingers played like a picture show over the back of his lids.

His phone was continuously vibrating in his pocket. He assumed it was probably Kirishima, a reason he’d never allowed the boy to have any more than his Snapchat in the first place –he did suppose a few would probably be his friends though, Ochako, Deku, checking up on him and asking why he’d left without a second word. He’d come up with a lie later, a believable one that didn’t involve pretty red heads and bootleg Marvel Comic attempted rapists, but only once he’d drank some water and gotten some sleep.

The vibrations continued, one after the other, and it got to the point where Katsuki was pulling his phone from the depths of his back pocket, the skim of his fingers along the denim of his jeans being a subtle reminder of how Kirishima’s own fingers had done the same, less than half an hour ago.

When he pulled his phone out, there were a series of different notifications. He was correct about Ochako and Deku, but there were even a few from Mina asking if he’d seen Kirishima, if they were both okay, because no one else had seen them in a while. The rest were indeed, Kirishima and Katsuki absently wondered why the boy had the time to spam the shit out of Katsuki, but couldn’t take two seconds to let his own best friend know that he was alive and well.

The notifications from Kirishima varied, at first they were just Line messages, simple drunken things like:

(LINE) <3 Kirishima <3: omg I just saw Ms Nakamura from next doors cat run into the alleyway behind her house.

(LINE) <3 Kirishima <3: Do u think it will get mad if I try to touch it?

(LINE) <3 Kirishima <3: Im not sure where this alleyway goes tho

(LINE) <3 Kirishima <3: omg BakuBro I see the cat

(LINE) <3 Kirishima <3: omg I’m going to send u a picture

(LINE) <3 Kirishima <3: nvm she ran away

(LINE) <3 Kirishima <3: omg Im 2 drunk for this

Something jumped from within Katsuki’s chest, and he swore it wasn’t his heart. It wasn’t his place to take care of Kirishima, nor was it his responsibility to worry about whether the guy was running around intoxicated through alleyways that he didn’t recognise, but still. A part of him had wished he’d picked up his phone sooner, so that he could tell Kirishima that those actions were most defineantly not a good idea.

He also did too, almost swapped out his Line app for the phone one. Considered hitting Kirishima’s number, dialing him just to make sure the idiot hadn’t gotten himself killed. That was until he read on.

(LINE) <3 Kirishima <3: Ok im out of the alley

(LINE) <3 Kirishima <3: that was super exciting

(LINE) <3 Kirishima <3: like an adventure

(LINE) <3 Kirishima <3: lets go on an adventure one day dude

(LINE) <3 Kirishima <3: ok im home

(LINE) <3 Kirishima <3: I hope ur almost home 2

(LINE) <3 Kirishima <3: u should reply to me soon so that I kno

(LINE) <3 Kirishima <3: safety is important

(LINE) <3 Kirishima <3: u should always have a train buddy

(LINE) <3 Kirishima <3: thats wat mama says

(LINE) <3 Kirishima <3: thx for being mine

Katsuki shook his head as he peered down at the messages that littered his screen. He may have even laughed a little, drawing the attention of another passenger, the only other one who was on the train. They peaked up at him, and Katsuki glared, shooting them down and snickering proudly to himself as the guy let his own eyes drop.

(LINE) <3 Kirishima <3: Omg

(LINE) <3 Kirishima <3: omg

(LINE) <3 Kirishima <3: holy fuck

(LINE) <3 Kirishima <3: im gonna show u something on snap

(Snapchat) New Snap from Red Riot

Katsuki blinked down at his device. The screen was glowing brightly, illuminating his face and making his eyes hurt just enough that it was irritating. There was something within him that began to rumble. He wasn’t sure what it was that Kirishima wanted to show him, but for some reason the possibilities were turning his stomach into a mess. He didn’t understand why. It was probably just something dumb like another cat, or a some other strange, yet completely mundane thing like that. Looking back at it, he should have trusted his gutt, shouldn’t have opened the pictures in public, even if his only other company was some tired looking dude who was probably now far too afraid to look up.

When he opened Kirishima’s snapchat messages, he was bombarded with three –for once brief, pictures of Kirishima. The first one was of his face as a whole. His eye was more swollen now, and had started to take on the deep purple colour of an eggplant. It looked painful, even though the screen of Katsuki’s phone. The next picture was still of his eye, but it was up much closer this time, and Katsuki could see the way the skin was risen high against the phone, the red tinted edges of the forming bruise.

“Fucking intense.” Was the caption on both of them.

It was the next picture though, that caught Katsuki off guard, sent his body into hyper drive and may have even caused a temporary outer body experience to occur.

It was another picture of Kirishima, but this time it was of him standing in front of a full length mirror. He was in what Katsuki assumed to be his bedroom. He could see the set of bunkbeds in the rear of the photo, the mess of what he assumed was clothing and other items that littered the floor. A mess presumably belonging to both Kirishima and Kaminari.

In the picture, Kirishima’s shirt was most probably amongst that mess, because it was no longer present upon his body. His torso, chest, and broad arms were on display, the phone held up above his face and flash shielding what would have been the outline of his head, and his hair. Kirishima’s pants sat loose and low on his waist, unbuttoned and held up only by his underwear and thighs.

That’s when Bakugou saw them, four finger-point bruises lining the area beneath Kirishima’s navel. They too, had begun to turn purple, but were still red around their perimeter. Fresh, new, and Katsuki knew almost immediately where they had come from.

“These ones are my favourite tho” the caption read, and everything Katsuki was currently feeling went straight to his groin.

Katsuki ghosted the ends of his own fingers along there area of his own body where Kirishima’s bruises lay. He dusted his touch over his own abdomen, eyes staring down at the screen of his phone as the photo ticked away, before disappearing completely. Katsuki had done that, he knew it for certain. It was when he was panicked, when he had Kirishima pressed up against him behind the vending machine at the train station. He’d known at the time that his touch had been too rough, but he’d been more concerned with making sure that Kirishima didn’t accidentally give away their position, that his wrists had become ridged, and he’d been unable to let up.

Katsuki wasn’t sure what to say now. He had both his hands on his phone, thumbs typing out a multitude of different responses. Anything that he could think of in response to the pictures. Kirishima had sent them to him, he’d wanted Katsuki to see them, and Kirishima knew that Katsuki knew it had been him to inflict those marks. He didn’t know how to respond however, what to say. He typed out apologies, jokes, rants, but nothing stuck, nothing felt right. So he simply types out:

BakuBae: That’s what you get for being such a loudmouth. Had to shut you up somehow.

Katsuki’s mind was still reeling. A part of him hoped that Kirishima had already passed out, surcome to his drunken body and fallen into a deep sleep where he wouldn’t see Katsuki’s reply until morning. Katsuki hadn’t even had the chance to lock his phone though, when his Snapchat began to flicker beside Kirishima’s name.

Red Riot is typing…

Red Riot: Kinda takes a lot more than that to shut me up

Red Riot: tho im not complaining

Red Riot: strong string fingers u hav there

Red Riot: bet they’re good for more than just guitar

Surely this wasn’t happening. Katsuki was far too drunk. Maybe none of this had really happened at all. Obviously he was already home, drunk, deep in sleep and having some kind of toxically realistic wet dream, because he’d been too drunk to actually release his frustrations before sleeping. There was no way that Kirishima was flirting with him, this wasn’t flirting. This wasn’t suggestive flirting directly after Kirishima had sent Katsuki a shirtless picture. Things like this just didn’t happen.

BakuBae

Just how fucking drunk are you?

Katsuki typed out with shaking fingers, positioned the text over a quick snapshot of the train floor. He glanced up over his lashes for a moment, making sure the guy at the other end of the train was still preoccupied with his own device, replying to his own messages, or playing some stupid game against the surface of the touch screen.

He knew he didn’t really have any reason to be nervous. From the outside, he probably just appeared to be having a normal conversation with someone on his phone. No one could tell that he had just been sent a couple of suggestive messages from his drunken band mate, his drunken band mate who was exceptionally attractive, and who may or may not have been the subject of Katsuki’s thoughts for weeks now.

The reply didn’t come straight away. For a while, Katsuki actually believed that this time Kirishima had actually passed out –that whatever situation that had just been arising, had also passed with the closing of his eyes. But then his screen lit up in his grip, and Katsuki, with his leg jumping up and down, free hand tugging at the tight fabric of his jeans, didn’t even hesitate to open the notification.

Red Riot

It was another picture of Kirishima’s abdomen, but this time it wasn’t in a mirror. Kirishima was presumably laying down, the edges of his hips fallen shallowly into the depths of what appeared to be a blanket. He was in his bed, and he still didn’t have his shirt on. The picture was closer this time, and Katsuki could clearly see the intensity of the bruises he’s made on Kirishima’s skin. There too, was the navel piercing that had driven Katsuki insane the few times Kirishima had decided to show it off, but now it was on full display in the picture, glimmering under the flash of Kirishima’s camera.

“Hardly” It was captioned, and Katsuki swore he was ten seconds away from blacking out.

Katsuki run his hand along the length of his own thigh, eyes peering down at the slight tent that now edged along his thigh. It was embarrassing, but he had been drinking, and it’s not like it was something that he could control. Plus, Kirishima was totally, like, saying all this with purpose right? Even someone like Bakugou could see that, but his brain was a mess of so many things. So much had already happened tonight -his first concert, Deku’s dumb boyfriend, being attacked, Kirishima saving him from being attacked. It wasn’t Katsuki’s fault he was reacting this way, if anything; it was completely unavoidable in every sense. There were a lot of emotions there, and a pretty boy flaunting himself all over his screen. What’s a guy to do in this kind of situation?

BakuBae:

You’re drunk, idiot

It wasn’t what he wanted to say. If anything Katsuki really wished he could indulge himself right now. It had been so long since he’d let himself have that, to let himself crave another person and let go of all the tension he built up inside himself for sport. He wanted to give Kirishima the responses he probably expected, but he was raised better than that. Plus, he didn’t want to start something he knew Kirishima probably wouldn’t want to finish. They were the same age, but Kirishima seemed younger in some ways, more curious, less experienced. It would make sense, with the way both Mina and Kyoka seemed to want to protect him from almost anything, from Bakugou especially. Maybe there was something they knew that he didn’t.

Red Riot is typing…

Red Riot: u don’t have to do anything

Red Riot: if you don’t want to

Red Riot: but I kinda do

Red Riot: idk

Red Riot: maybe it’s the adrenaline from hittin that guy

Red Riot: but ur really hot

Red Riot: u probably kno that tho

Red Riot

The next notification to pop up was a picture, and Katsuki allowed himself a few seconds to breath as he considered whether it would be a good idea to open it. There were so many things that could go wrong with this situation. Suddenly, every warning that Jirou had given him previously, all started to come together and make a whole lot of fucking sense. This guy, Kirishima, he was really hard to say no too, so fucking hard to resist.

Katsuki tapped his screen, watched as another picture of Kirishima’s abdomen came up on the screen. Same angle, same bruise, same piercing, but Kirishima’s jeans were nowhere in sight now. Maybe they were on the floor, or maybe they were pooled around his knees or ankles. It was really hard to tell from just a picture. Katsuki kind of wanted to ask, but at the same time there was no way he was going to let himself buy into this. No way was he going to allow Kirishima to realise how very weak he already was for him. Katsuki was stone, solid and jagged, holding in an intense inferno that no other human would ever be able to control.

The picture faded from view.

Red Riot: Im gonna take ur silence as a yes

Red Riot: b cur silences always seem to mean yes

Red Riot: I like that about u y’know

Red Riot: u don’t hav to say things

Red Riot: bc people listen anyways

Katsuki gaped down at his screen, head reeling as he attempted to process Kirishima’s words. Was this what sexting was to guys like him? Polite compliments and rambles scattered with teasing pictures of his highly worked body and killer abdominal muscles? He wouldn’t be the least bit surprised, it was Kirishima after all.

BakuBae: Im on the train dumbass

It was meant to be a warning, a kind of “You don’t have to do this, you shouldn’t do this”, but it ultimately failed, because Kirishima sent through a series of messages anyway, followed by a picture than Katsuki was yet to work up the courage to open.

Red Riot: Thats ok

Red Riot: u don’t have to do anything

Red Riot: I mean like

Red Riot: it would be cool if u did

Red Riot: bc then at least I kno im doing it rite

Red Riot

Another picture of Kirishima lit up Katsuki’s screen, and this time, almost as immediately as he looked at it, Katsuki felt himself instantly tilting his phone in a direction that he knew would protect it from any wandering eyes. Mostly because, this time, the picture was less of Kirishima’s chest and abdomen, and more of the length of his toned thighs, spread wide against what Katsuki certainly knew now was his bed. Kirishima laid there in only his boxers and on closer inspection, Katsuki could quite easily tell that he was at least semi-hard beneath them. Kirishima’s hand –the one that wasn’t handling his phone, had its thumb looped in the hem of them, pushing them down his hip on one side.

If Katsuki wasn’t hard before, he most definitely was now. He tried to hold back any visible response other than that from his body, however. He kept his face stiff, but casual. He never once looked up from his phone –he didn’t want to seem like he was on the lookout for wandering eyes, though this was insanely difficult, because all he really wanted to do was be on the lookout for wandering eyes.

Kirishima was either nervous, or really eager, because no long after Katsuki had opened his most recent picture, another one was already there, ready to be opened. Katsuki didn’t want to keep him waiting. He didn’t want to make Kirishima feel insecure, even if he really should have been stopping Kirishima from doing this in the first place.

Red Riot

The next picture was a little different. Kirishima’s boxers still tilted to one side from where he had tugged them down in the last picture, but this time the angle had changed once more and Katsuki was peering up and over Kirishima’s body. He could see the rise of the boy’s boxers where his member sat hard, flush beneath their grip, and Kirishima’s hand was up near his face, fingers teasing his mouth, cheeks pink and blotchy with presumably intoxication and arousal. He looked good, insanely good, with his biceps bulging and hair let loose from its previous tie –allowing for it to fall and frame Kirishima’s face.

Red Riot: I was attracted to u from the first time I saw u

Red Riot: but u could probably tell

Red Riot: thats y I got ur snapchat from mina

Red Riot: I was kinda pissy she kept u to herself

Red Riot: pls forget I said any of this in the morning

Red Riot: I kno its super embarassinf

Red Riot: its just ur really great

Red Riot

Kirishima followed his ramblings with yet another picture of himself. This one had Katsuki choking on air, gasping as he inhaled a mixture of oxygen and his own embarrassment. The guy up the other end of the car twitched when he did, looking up, only to be shot down by another one of Katsuki’s murderous glares. He wasn’t sure how much of an insidious affect it probably had, with his face assumed to be as bright as a tomato and his back hunched in order to shield his progressive issue in his pants. Maybe he would just look really drunk.

The picture, as it were, was far more provocative than any of the ones before it. Kirishima was sitting up now, propped against a wall, underwear pushed halfway down his legs, his length in his hand. He held the phone above his head, an aerial view of his entire form. His thumb was teasing over the head of his dick, and Katsuki couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like if it was his own hand in its place. How would Kirishima react, what would he sound like? He’d make him feel good; he knew that for a fact. He’d work his way over Kirishima’s body, finding every single place that made the redhead twitch; anywhere spot that could potentially make the younger boy dissolve.

Katsuki may not seem it from the outside, but he took pride in the way he cared for his lovers.

Katsuki was sunk deep into this phone, so far that he didn’t even notice when the next thing that came through on his app wasn’t actually a picture, but a video. He didn’t even consider the consequences when he immediately pressed it, the sound of Kirishima’s voice radiating out into the once quiet air of the train carriage.

“Bakugou…” Kirishima’s voice whined out through his phones speaker, causing Katsuki to flail his hands, dropping the device to the floor in front of him, and if he’d been doing a good job at concealing what he’d been up to until this point, he wasn’t anymore.

Everything around him appeared to go still in that moment. Katsuki could do nothing but sit there, in shock, staring down at the backside of his phone, its screen still lit and washing the edges of itself in its own light. He didn’t know if his fellow passenger was watching, but he probably was. There was no way he’d missed that in what had been one of the deadest silences in the history of silences.

Katsuki drew in a breath alongside the sound of the train’s automated announcement providing him with the necessary information that this next stop, would be his. He was grateful for it, because no matter how much stone Katsuki built around himself, there was absolutely no fucking way he was going to be able to continue sitting in this train car with that stranger after he’d just played Kirishima’s sex driven voice out loud like a symphony.

Katsuki scooped his phone up from the surface of the floor, just as the train began to shudder to a standstill. He gripped the device tightly within his fingers; eyes flickering up to knowingly meet the gaze of the man downwind from him, who watched him curiously, knowingly. Katsuki could do nothing but attempt to put up his wall. He smirk, smug and deep like it didn’t matter to him in the slightest if this guy knew what he’d been doing. He even made a show of it, adjusting himself in his pants so that it would be more comfortable for him to walk, not bothering to be subtle in any way.

Once he was off the train, that’s when he let himself breathe for the first time since Kirishima’s corpulent moan of his name had hit his ears. It was colder outside than he’d anticipated, and the chill from upon the platform was almost enough to cool the head of his skin, wind hitting his flushed face, neck and arms. Everything within him burned, with want, with desire.

He gazed back down at his phone, screen blinking as it vibrated repeatedly within his grasp.

Red Riot: uh so like was that too much??

Red Riot: I don’t kno ive never done this before

Red Riot: I dunno I just thought it might be hot for u to hear

Red Riot: do u think so???

Red Riot: oh shit

Red Riot: fuck I think someones hoem

Red Riot: ive gotta go

Red Riot: thx for like

Red Riot: letting me do that

Red Riot: yeah

Red Riot: don’t forget to call me in the morning!

Red Riot: I cant wait to hear ur voice ;)

Red Riot: be safe!

Red Riot: gn

Katsuki hovered in his place for what felt like hours, but was probably only a few minutes. It was dead cold outside, and he was in nothing but a pair of jeans and a t-shirt –his jacket still being with Kirishima, but for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to move. He just stood, staring down at his phone, the messages from Kirishima, the memories of what had just occurred running races around his brain. He wasn’t much sure how he was supposed to react, but Kirishima seemed to feel casual about it, so maybe that was a start.

Kirishima had also said that Katsuki should forget this in the morning, pretend like it had never happened. Katsuki was good at that, acting like nothing had occurred, even when it was something near impossible to forget. He told himself that he’d do that. That he’d follow Kirishima’s wishes, and he wouldn’t bring it up. He told himself it was for Kirishima’s sake, but somewhere deep down, what he was really choosing to do was to protect himself.

With nibble fingers, and a few taps across the cold glass of his phone screen, Katsuki types out a final few messages.

BakuBae: its fine Shitty-Hair

BakuBae: gn

And that was that.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

#electric moment #electric moment fanfiction #kyomomo #jirou kyouka #kyouka jirou #kyoka jirou #momo yaoyorozu #momojirou #yaoyorozu momo #kiribaku #kirishima eijirou #eijirou kirishima #katsuki bakugou #bakushima #bakugou katsuki #my hero academia #boku no hero academia

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icarushasfallenfromthestars · 3 years

Text

Found (Outside The Screen) (Dream x GN! Reader) Part 2

Request: That dream angst fuckin wrecked my heart..any chance for a part 2 with comfort(im not the og requester so if not thats fine its just OUGH my heart)

I have written this three times over because tumblr didn’t save it. THEN. Tumblr doesn’t show it to ANYONE unless they check my account. This happened to my Ranboo fic as well... I will honestly cry if no one sees this.

Part 1

Once again. This is a completely fictitious story and version of Clay.

TW: Panic attacks, self deprecating thoughts,

"(Y/n)!"

His voice echoed through the house as you scrambled around corners to escape the possible wrath of your boyfriend. Or maybe even soon to be ex boyfriend.

Despite living in this house with him for a little over two years, it was beginning to feel like a maze. You couldn't tell which way was left and which way was right, your head spinning with panic as you gasped for breath.

He's gonna find you...

The house wasn't even that big, and quite an open concept, so you had no idea why you were finding it so confusing. All you knew at the moment was...

Get out.

Once your eyes landed on the door that lead out, you made a beeline towards it and flung it open. Maybe you should've known better than to attempt to run from the manhunt god...

The footsteps pounding against the floor not too far behind you startled you enough to jump outside and slam the door behind you in hopes of giving yourself enough time to run farther.

There were plenty of things failing to register in your mind as you ran down the empty sidewalks. Such as the poor choice (or lack) of shoes you were wearing, or even the heavy night rain pelting down on your shaking body.

Your lungs were burning.. But your brain had thrown itself so far into fight or flight mode that you had no care for anything around you, hardly blinking twice as the signs of unfamiliar street names flew past you.

Eventually, when you physically couldn't breathe any longer, you sat on a bench and took awhile to think. The consistent rain pelting down on your head was actually a decent grounder to help you snap yourself out of it... But that only caused more confusion and another wave of panic to wash over you.

Where... were you?

Doesn't matter. Don't go back.

Oh God... He hates you..

Why wouldn't he..?

He was too embarrassed to show you to his chat!

What did you do that was so embarrassing?

God.. What was so wrong with you that he stayed in his streaming room for days on end!?

Pulling your knees up to your chest, you choked back a few sobs, trying your best to keep what was left of your composure. Very quickly, however, you gave up on trying to hold yourself together and broke down, hiding your face in your knees.

Time seemed to pass by way too quickly but also way too slowly at the same time.. Like time itself was giving you the one finger salute. When you finally stopped crying, you leaned back against the back of the bench and gave a shaky sigh before you decided to attempt to think rationally again.

You had no clue where you were. Nothing looked familiar. What time is it? No clue, you don't have your... Your phone!

You quickly scrambled to your pocket to pull out the cellular device, and stared at the black screen for a few seconds. Anxiety was the reason for your hesitance as you stared into your reflection, frowning slightly. Without thinking twice, you pressed the button and the screen lit up with various arrays of colours.

78 Missed calls from Clay💚

2 Missed calls from George👓🇬🇧

7 Missed calls from Sapnap🔥

Was... He so mad that his friends were trying to yell at you too? You tilted your head slightly and scrolled through the other notifications on your lockscreen.

Twitter seemed to be losing their minds over your boyfriend's stream and wondering who the stranger was. Seeing the headlines flooded you with immeasurable guilt and you almost put your phone down again, if your phone didn't start buzzing.

You glanced down at the screen and say Clay was making call number 79... Man, he was persistent.. and he would probably continue to call until you answered...

Your finger hovered over the decline button, before slowly moving over and landing on the green one instead. "...Hello...?"

"(Y/n)...?" Had... He been crying...? "Oh my god! You're alive!" He gasped out with glee before giving a few sobs of... relief...?

"...You... Aren't... Mad?" You whispered very softly and hesitantly, your voice scratchy and sore from crying.

He sighed and there was a little bit of shuffling as well as a few male voices in the background. "No. Not in the slightest... Where are you? I want to apologize in person.. And when it doesn't sound like you're in a hurricane.."

You lifted your head up to look at the rain that was continuing to pelt down on you before looking around. "..I'm not sure.." You heard your partner echo your statement in question form as you looked for street signs through the rain. Glancing back at your phone, you saw the screen light up again, this time it was a warning label.

Your battery was almost dead...

"C-Clay.. My phone is going to die.." You murmured softly, your heart filling with dread as you turned down your brightness and closed any unnecessary apps.

There was a little bit of clattering and shuffling on the line as Clay hurriedly walked from the windows to the door, trying to see you from the home. "G-give me landmarks! Hurry!" He practically begged as you shot up from your bench, ignoring the burning soreness in your legs.

Spinning around quickly, you began listing off a few company buildings you saw, trying to shout over the rain and a few cars driving by. "Yeah-yeah! There's also that little sushi place beside the restaurant too.."

You heard the furious typing of his computer before another almost sob of relief. "You're on Rosewood Avenue... How the hell did you run that far? Okay, you're going to walk in the opposite direction of the sushi place until you reach a road called Miller Road, got that?" He waited for a verbal noise of agreement before continuing, "Once you get there, turn left and keep walking straight until you get to a steakhouse. I'll meet you half way, if you don't see me there, don't move unless you have to. Got it?" He asked firmly, with a small hint of desperation in his tone.

You rubbed your face as you mentally repeated the directions to yourself. "Yeah.. Yeah.. I got it." You began to walk along the sidewalks, your shoulders beginning to tremble from the water induced shivers trailing up and down your spine.

"..(Y/n)?"

"Yeah?"

"I lov-"

Your phone died..

Pulling the device away from your head, you pressed the buttons a few times before groaning and shoving it into your pockets as you began to walk.

Your mind was blurry but also hyper aware along the walk to the road where Clay told you to go. 'What was he going to say? If... He doesn't hate me... was he going to say- No.. no. He hadn't said that line in over a few months now.. No reason why he would say it now..' You mentally scolded yourself.

The rain didn't seem to be too keen on letting up as you walked through large rippling puddles. Your clothes were soaked, your hair completely drenched and you were pretty sure you were gonna need to buy a new phone with how much your current one was getting waterlogged..

You rose your arm to shield your face from the onslaught of water that a car had caused by driving through a large puddle before running your hand down your face.

Part of you was still a bit.. angry... at Clay... He had ignored you for so long and wanted nothing to do with you.. Then suddenly you spill hot coffee on yourself and then boom, you have the man more focused than when he has a good speed run seed. What about all those times you were begging him to come to bed, or at least eat dinner at the table with you? Did you only matter when you were in pain?

Biting your lip, you shook off the thought as you looked up again to see the steakhouse that you were directed to go to, the signs glowingly and people shuffling in and out through the doors...

Then there was another man, standing under a large black umbrella wearing a damp lime green hoodie...

Only you'd recognize that face anywhere where others wouldn't.. Standing in the street lights perfectly was your boyfriend, Clay.

Your heart trembled but also melted slightly upon seeing that he wasn't paying attention to his screen anymore. You. He was focused on finding you...

As you began to walk closer, you saw him lift his head and stare at you for a few seconds before dropping the umbrella and lunge forward to wrap you in a loving embrace. "I'm sorry.." Was the first thing he whispered, his voice almost as hoarse as yours. "I know.. that a simple apology will never excuse what I put you through... You cared for me, and even after a stupidly ignored you... You still didn't leave, or get angry. I don't deserve you, I know that, and you have every right to be upset, angry or whatever you're feeling right now.. Please, it doesn't matter how long it takes... Just let me make it up to you and let me prove myself worthy of your love again.."

Your lips parted in surprise as you stared at him, the streetlight poorly capturing his normal beauty, but still doing it well enough that you felt your heart soar. "Clay..." Your eyes traced his features, his puffy and reddened eyes and his cheeks stained with tear tracks, "You have a lot to work and make up for... I'm not going to forgive you immediately, but I'm not going to leave you.. We can work things out.. Together, okay?"

He eagerly nodded and gently held your face in his hands before pressing a light kiss to your forehead. "I'll break away from video editing and streaming for a while.. So I can focus on repairing things with you.."

You buried your face into the male's sweater, that was beginning to become soaked as well from the rain and you, and closed your eyes as you wrapped your arms around him.

"(Y/n)?"

"Mm..?"

"I love you."

"I love you too, Clay."

#dreamwastaken #dreamwastaken x reader #dreamwastaken x you #mcyt x reader #mcyt #dream mcyt #x reader #reader insert #read #self insert #dream smp #dream team

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bambichim · 7 years

Text

7 minutes in heaven {pt.2}

PART 1

♡ pairing; jungkook x reader | taehyung x reader ♡ genre; angst,romance ♡ word count; 6.8k ♡ warnings; mild/strong language

[x cr] A/N; sorry that it has taken me MONTHS to post this second part, i was really struggling with the story line here :( i hope you are able to enjoy it nonetheless, pls like and reblog as it helps me out a lot <3

Jungkook still hasn’t slept a wink the entire night, the fatigue having already plagued his body hours ago and no matter how hard he tries, he can’t keep his mind off of you. Lying on his back in one of Namjoon’s spare beds, he stares blankly up into the dark ceiling that hasn’t yet been lit by the day’s sun, and repeatedly replays the kiss in his head. Feelings of yearning, intense passion and guilt begin to get mixed up in his mind, and he squeezes his eyes shut with the frustration that is starting to feel overwhelming. Why does this situation have to feel so complicated? The moment he stepped back into the cluttered living room that past evening, he felt the heat of various pairs of questioning eyes watching his every move and he didn’t dare look back into any of them. Although what had just happened was something he could’ve only dreamt about for months now, Jungkook couldn’t help but feel the horrible feeling of regret building up inside of him. He knew that you were practically in love with Taehyung at this point, so what strange energy possessed him to kiss you like that? He had accidentally met the burning gaze of Tae’s eyes, not being able to hold it for more than a couple of seconds. Suddenly, Taehyung bounced off the couch like it was made of hot coals, and darted determinedly for the door, causing a cool breeze to whip past Jungkook. “So, did anything happen with Y/N?” Jimin pressed, leaning forward with curiosity. With a lazy shrug of his shoulders, Jungkook pulled out his phone and slumped deep into the sofa, hoping that it would open up and swallow him whole. Would Y/N tell Taehyung that he came onto her? Will she cover up her tracks and make him look like the bad guy? Surely not… These were the thoughts that completely blocked out any possible sleep Jungkook might’ve gotten otherwise. But he has given up at this point, sitting himself up in the bed to grip tightly onto the covers for some reassurance. He can’t stop thinking about the way Taehyung had abruptly left straight after Y/N, looking at him with a slight touch of disappointment before opening the door to escape the unspoken awkwardness. Getting up to open the heavy curtains, a pool of radiant light spills into the room and Jungkook stands in it for a few seconds, feeling the early morning heat hit his body. A couple of groggy footsteps drag across the carpet outside his door, and he turns around to check the time on the wall. 9:15 AM Deciding that it was finally time to go and eat some breakfast, Jungkook slowly gravitates towards the door and opens it with a lazy grasp. “Hey, man,” Namjoon greets as he closes the bathroom door behind him, the puffiness in his face having been caused by sleep and alcohol, “Sleep well?” Jungkook cocks his head sarcastically, and by the light purple colour already taking place under his eyes, Namjoon guesses that his friend hasn’t actually slept yet. “Don’t worry; I’ll fix you up with a decently cooked breakfast and a cup coffee!” Namjoon says, reaching over to slap a sympathetic hand down on Jungkook’s shoulder. After a very long thirty minutes, Namjoon places down a plate of scrambled eggs on toast next to a mug of piping hot coffee, a smile of relief and gratification spreading across his face. “Bon appetit,” he announces before Jungkook tucks in gratefully. Although the toast was slightly burnt and the eggs took at least three tries to get right, Jungkook finishes everything on his plate quickly and leans back to let the satisfyingly full feeling take over. He’s glad that he can finally focus on something else that isn’t to do with you. “So…” Namjoon starts up after a couple of minutes, finishing the last drop of coffee swimming in the bottom of his stained cup. “What happened last night?” Jungkook’s breath begins to falter at the question, and without knowing what to say he just simply shrugs his shoulders, acting as if he doesn’t understand. Flashes of those intense seven minutes begin to rush through his mind as Namjoon’s suspicious expression grows in front of him. “You didn’t say one word to us for the rest of the night and blamed it on the sudden ‘tiredness’ you felt,” he continues steadily, not taking his eyes off of the nervous Jungkook. Namjoon is someone he could confide in without having to worry about the others finding out. He holds many of Jungkook’s secrets and has watched him go through tough times, so why was it proving too hard to tell him the truth now? Looking down at his clammy hands, he tries to focus on the irregular breaths coming out of his lungs, each one starting to come to a slow stutter. “I don’t get what you’re talking about, nothing happened?” Jungkook replies with confidence, shrugging his shoulders yet again. With a deep sigh, Namjoon accepts his response with a brisk nod of his head. “Some of us were just a little confused, we expected you to come down looking smug, but all we got was a room full of tension.” “Sorry I couldn’t fulfil the game’s objective,” Jungkook laughs breathily, getting up to push the stool back from him, “I’m going to head back upstairs to sort out my things - I have somewhere to be in a bit.” Before getting to see another confirming nod from Namjoon, Jungkook swiftly leaves the kitchen and hops up the stairs. Once he finally makes his way down the long hallway and into the spacious guest room, he grabs his phone and vacantly stares at the screen. As much as he wants to text you, he remembers he doesn’t have your number for his own personal use. He can’t ask Namjoon for it now, that would look too obvious… Looking back at the door, Jungkook sees a sleepy Hoseok stumble across the carpet, trying to find his way down the hall through the hazy like state he’s in. Once he hears the bathroom door slowly shut, Jungkook dashes out of his room and into Hoseok’s. Surely he would have your number, right? Stumbling around the room to find his phone, he sets eyes on the device and punches in the four-digit code that he had learnt through the years of being Hoseok’s best friend. Jungkook repeatedly checks behind his back, nervously scrolling through the contacts as he does so until he finally comes across your name. The letters stand out dramatically, and his stomach fills with butterflies. It only takes a couple of seconds for the determined Jungkook to secure your number into his phone, saving it with pride. Before anyone finds out what he has just done, he sneaks back out of the room, and starts to gather the rest of his things. _____________ Waking up from your deep slumber, you let yourself sink into the pillowy cushions and covers, allowing them to slowly devour your body. You hear the birds twittering outside in the bright sunshine, and a feeling of calm washes over you. The serene atmosphere of the morning soon diminishes though as you remember all that happened last night. Looking across the bed at Tiffany, a horrible feeling starts to emerge from the pit of your stomach and you fight back any tears that begin to threaten your eyes. Why did Jungkook kiss you last night? Was it because that was the whole point of the game, or was there a deeper reason to it? You contemplate the reasoning behind the boy’s actions as you reach over to grab your phone, remembering that you received a text late into the night. Cautiously, you press down on the home button to see Taehyung’s name shining on your screen. [Taehyung]: did you get home okay? - 1:15AM [Taehyung]: or just don’t text back?? – 1:25AM You roll your eyes in response to his simple messages, and although you shouldn’t, you suddenly feel bad for not responding back as soon as you got them. With shaking hands, you begin to type out a message. Multiple messages actually. But before you decide to send any of them, you stop yourself to back space on the letters, ending up with a blank box repeatedly. Finally, you muster up one reply. [You]: sorry I was asleep, I got home fine thanks – 9:30AM No more than two minutes pass before your phone vibrates, letting you know that you’ve received a message. [Taehyung]: im sorry about last night i was tipsy, are you mad? – 9:32AM Before you can think of another reply, your phone buzzes again. [Taehyung]: do you want to meet for lunch or coffee today? – 9:33AM Those anxious butterflies start to build up in your stomach, a feeling you’re all too familiar with. You contemplate what to do for a couple of seconds, your mind going through all the possible reasons for and against going. If this happened a couple a weeks ago, it wouldn’t have even taken you a second to enthusiastically agree to meeting up with your high school heart ache. Would he just interrogate you the whole time, trying hard to find out exactly what happened last night? But, you knew you wouldn’t be able to tell him. Even though you knew Taehyung was now seeing someone, you didn’t want to jeopardise your chance with him by telling him you kissed one of his best friends… You know that was a ridiculous thing to hope for, though. Before you even realise what you’ve done, you sent a text back to Taehyung. [You]: yeah sure, 11am at the book café? – 9:35AM After a couple of seconds, Taehyung agrees to your request and you slide off the bed in order to start getting ready. As you push aside the curtains to let in the early October sunlight, Tiffany irritably wriggles over in the bed, pulling the covers over her head. “No, I need more sleep…” she mumbles under her sleepy breath. “Carry on sleeping, I’ll bring us up some food in a minute,” you reassure her, trying your best to be a good friend. The guilt hasn’t stopped eating away at you since all those hours ago, and you pray that it goes away soon. You don’t have the right level of concentration to start using pots and pans to make breakfast -the ending result would only be a mess. Knowing that Tiffany wouldn’t be opposed to have pop tarts at this time in the morning, you shove some of the strawberry flavoured ones haphazardly into the toaster and wait for them to eagerly jump out at you. As the minutes tick by, you fall into a deep trance of emotional thoughts and memories. No matter how hard you try, you can’t stop thinking about Jungkook. You had never thought about him in a romantic way before, and you didn’t think he had ever either. But the more you think about his soft lips upon yours, you can’t shake the feeling of wanting to see him again… POP! The sound of the pop tarts leaping out of the red hot toaster makes you fall back in shock, and a small laugh arises from your throat. Quickly, you pull out the tarts and throw them onto a plate, trying hard not to burn the tips of your fingers on the pastry. At this point, you are determined to enjoy your breakfast with your best friend. Grabbing two cups of fresh juice to join your food, you warily balance everything on the plate, and begin your journey back to your room. “Finally, I’m starving up here!” Tiffany jokingly moans as she looks longingly over to the plate you’re trying so hard not to drop. “I’m going to have to be getting ready to head out in a bit, so watch this,” you announce loudly, taking an overly large bite into the unknowingly piping hot pop tart. The jam in the middle is like molten lava against your tongue, and you yelp in pain, almost throwing the food straight across the room. “Where are you going?” Tiff manages to get out after laughing at your foolishness. A look of suspicion creeps onto her face as you prepare your answer. “I-uh…Taehyung texted earlier, wants to get a coffee.” Tiffany raises a concerning eyebrow, obviously confused as to why you would want to be meeting up with him now after finding out about Belle. Honestly, you don’t really know why either. “You sure that’s a good idea? You need to get over him, Y/N!” she exclaims impatiently, “He’s messing with your head, I don’t want to see you get hurt…” Rapidly shaking your head, you down your glass of juice and begin to rummage for something suitable to wear. You don’t want to look like a mess, but you also don’t want to look like you’ve dressed up for him either… “It’s fine, Tiff,” you convince your cautious friend, “He wants to meet up with me as friends – anyway, I’d feel bad for turning him down.” With an audible sigh coming from Tiffany, she shrugs her shoulders and continues to finish off her breakfast. You pull on a pair of light-wash mom jeans that have white and blue paint splotches on them, and the only reason as to why you haven’t thrown them out yet is because Taehyung said that they make you look “artsy.” Continuing to scramble around through the mountain of clothes on your floor, you yank out your favourite mustard coloured sweater and proceed to put the woollen material over your body. The next forty minutes is spent with you applying a full face of makeup, whilst contemplating showing up at the cafe or not. A huge part of you is more than excited to see Taehyung, there’s nothing else you want right now. But after your mini argument last night, and the general tension that was left floating around in Namjoon’s house, it made the idea seem a little less appetising. You swing your keys around your finger as you slump down on the bottom step of your staircase. You’d have to leave in five minutes if you wanted to get there on time, but the anxiety was starting to take a hold of your legs, ceasing them to move. Taehyung did want to see you after all. He went out of his way to ask you for a coffee, taking the time out of his day for you… “Are you going or not?” Tiffany says from the top of the stairs, hand placed firmly on her hip. She hops down the stairs to sit a step above you, her mousey coloured hair bouncing around her like a cloud. “I should, shouldn’t I?” you slowly question, not giving her time to reply, “I should just go and see what he wants, maybe I’ll get a solid apology…” “Exactly, make him apologise for confusing you like this!” Tiffany cheers as she pushes you forward up off the step. “You’ve got to text me everything that goes down though, okay?” You sniff a little laugh and agree to Tiffany’s request, steadying yourself up off the wooden step. “I’ll tell you everything afterwards – my parents are back at 12pm, so please make sure the house is tidy before they get back,” you say in a hopeful voice, but knowing Tiffany, she’ll have the place looking brand new by the time they get home. _________ By the time you reach the café its 10:55AM, and your nerves are starting to heavily kick in. As well as kicking, they’re punching and head butting. As you stand outside, you look up at the rustic sign saying ‘The Little Book Café’, just to make sure you’ve come to the right place. Even though you knew there weren’t any other cafes around the area specifically tied to books… As you push against the hefty glass door, the smell of fresh chocolate cake, pastries and coffee hits your nose, filling you with instant delight. This is one of your favourite places to go to with Taehyung after school. The two of you would spread your art books out onto the hidden table upstairs, leaving every couple of minutes to go and pick out artist biographies and other helpful books to share with one another. No matter how tense you feel right now, you can’t help but let a small smile bite its way into the corner of your mouth at the thought of the endless hours you’ve spent here with him. The middle-aged woman who normally serves you is behind the counter, sending out friendly smiles to every eye she can catch. As soon as she sees you, immediate warmth radiates off of her, and you politely smile back. “Hello dear, I wouldn’t of expected to see you today!” she says with a pleasant surprise, “Would you like your regular hot chocolate and croissant?” You quickly take a gander at the mouth-watering cakes that have been carefully placed on individual stands behind the glass in front of you, biting your lip as you think about your choice. Today there’s: carrot cake and buttercream icing, chocolate fudge cake, blueberry muffins and caramel slices. The enticing smell coming off the food is making your stomach rumble, and you have to make a decision. “I’d love a hot chocolate with a slice of carrot cake please!” you eagerly say, the thought of one of your favourite cakes making you feel extremely excited. “I’ll have the same please,” a deep voice says behind you, and you turn around to reveal that it’s Taehyung. He’s wrapped up in a cream and red checked scarf, his mouth just peeping over the top to reveal his nose, which is tinted a pretty rose colour. The black puffer jacket he’s wearing makes him look so incredibly huggable, but you try your best to keep your arms pinned to your sides. There is also slight puffiness around his eyes, probably due to the lack of sleep. Nevertheless, he still looks as strikingly gorgeous as ever. “Of course, my dear,” the lady directs at Tae, sending him one of her comforting smiles, “Are you paying for both?” “No, I’m paying for mine separately!” you quickly intervene. “Are you sure, Y/N?” Taehyung says, raising an eyebrow at you. You don’t want it to look like you can’t pay for things yourself, like he has to always be there for you. As much as you would like to accept his offer, you bite your tongue and hand over the payment in full. “Upstairs, where we usually sit?” you question Taehyung as you take your metal tray balancing your cake and drink in preparation to go sit down, remembering quickly to thank the lady behind the counter. As you head towards the stairs, you try and collect your breath evenly into your lungs. This really isn’t the time to start panicking, not now. Determined to get to your usual spot, you speed up the pace a little, weaving in and out of tables, chairs, and book stands. ‘Your’ spot was placed directly next to one of the windows in perfect view of the street outside. Around spring time, the two of you would watch as the blossom petals drifted around aimlessly, twisting and turning in a way that was ever so slightly hypnotic. Winter was wonderful as well. The light snowflakes would delicately fall from the sky, making the warmth of your hot chocolate taste even better. The two of you would sit there in silence. Not the type of silence that was uncomfortably awkward, but more the type that was soothing and reassuring, like nothing and everything was being said all at the same time. Pulling out your chair to sit down, you look up to see an alert looking Taehyung studying his tray carefully, focusing on not dropping it this time. His floppy hair falls softly into his eyes, the sharp sun from the window bouncing off of it. “You don’t even like carrot cake,” you accuse him, laughing lightly. “I thought I’d be adventurous and get something different,” he shrugs after letting out a deep sigh of relief as his tray hits the table. Not waiting for him, you delve into your cake, watching as the metal of your fork makes a smooth cut through the sponge and buttercream. Once it hits your mouth, your taste buds are overwhelmed by the sweet taste of the delectable cake. You hear Taehyung giggle at your reaction. “That good, huh?” he asks before taking the first bite of his as well. The two of you sit in quiet for a few seconds, nodding along to the chews and swallows of the delicious cake. Opening your eyes at the same time, you both share a genuine laugh with each other, and a familiar feeling of contentment flows through you. Taehyung’s brown eyes shine back into yours, and the creases around them make you feel like you’re right where you should be. The sun beaming in through the window highlights the melanin in his skin, the colour glowing flawlessly. Although he was not yours, you felt a very strong tie to him, and there was no way you could willingly let him go anytime soon. You spend a long time filling the minutes with random chatter about school, artists and books, managing to avoid the main issue at hand. Although the two of you are sharing laughs, you can’t help but feel the gnawing of your questions in the corner of your brain. “So, how are you?” he asks suddenly, sitting back with his hot chocolate. “I’m fine, how are you?” you reply back simply. You reach out to grab a hold of your mug, clasping your fingers around the handle. The strong, thick smell of pure chocolate rises into your nose, causing you to feel a momentary bliss. “I’m okay,” Taehyung says bluntly after taking a sip, “Although, I’m worried you’re mad at me…” His stare falls down into his mug, and he scoots up in his seat a little. You subconsciously do the same, looking down into your cup at the melting cream mixing with the pure colour of the chocolate. The swirling white contrasting against the brown has such an effortless allure to it that it captures you completely. “I’m not mad at you Tae – just confused,” you utter quietly still examining the merging colours in your cup, and honestly you don’t know if you’re telling the truth or not. “You’re confused?” he questions you slowly, knowing why you would feel this way, but wanting to hear you say it. “With the way you’ve been acting…” you mumble before a confident Tae speaks over you slightly. “I didn’t go home with her last night,” Taehyung strongly says, still keeping his eyes stuck to his mug, “I didn’t go back with Belle last night.” You suddenly look up as your eyebrows pucker at his confession, wondering why on Earth this information was relevant. “Why, did you have an argument?” you ask curiously, watching his hunched posture. “I just wanted to be away from everyone I guess,” he shrugs half-heartedly, and any joy that was there before leaves his body slowly. “You’ve ignored me for a straight week, Tae,” you try to say casually over his last comment, “Why couldn’t of you of just told me, what was stopping you?” You watch as his shoulders tense inside his coat, closing up around his neck. The shuffling of his body begins to make you feel uneasy as you take another sip of your creamy chocolate drink, letting the warmth coat your taste buds. The bitter sweetness runs down your throat, and he looks up at you with his hazel eyes that make you feel a million different emotions. Except those eyes appear to be utterly lost right now, and you can’t quite figure out what is going on in his mind… BUZZ! The two of you instantly look down at your phone vibrating against the polished wood of the table, and you tilt your head in slight confusion at the unknown number on your screen. As you slowly lean in, you begin to read the surprising text underneath the numbers. [?]: hey y/n its jungkook please can u reply when u get this? i hope its okay that ive texted u – 11:20AM Your eyes begin to widen as the uncomfortable tense feeling in your stomach expands, and you snatch your phone off the table in the hopes that Taehyung didn’t get the chance to read it. Holding the phone in your fumbling hands, you re-read the text over and over again, thinking about how he got your number and why he would be texting you now. The thought of a timorous Jungkook sitting slumped on a bed or sofa staring longingly into his phone sends a pang of sadness through you, and you fight the urge to text back immediately. “Who was that?” Taehyung calmly, but firmly questions. “I-I don’t know, I think it was a wrong number,” you stammer as you shove your phone deep into your coat pocket, hoping he wouldn’t pry anymore. Both of you exchange disconcerting looks, and you try not to give away too much information with your eyes. Taehyung studies your face carefully, watching each and every crevice with intent. He’s usually quick to tell how you’re feeling just by observing your movements and tone in voice, so you put in the extra effort to cover up any suspicious notions. The taut looking boy opposite you breaths in deeply, swishing his head to gaze out of the window. You follow his direction and watch the delicate ginger leaves fall to the ground one after the other, twisting and turning until they get there. He knocks back the last of his drink, wincing as the surprising heat of the liquid hits the back of his throat. The uncertainty of the situation feels salty on your tongue and you want to know why, but it feels like the time to ask those sorts of questions is up. Your eyes lazily fall half shut, the tiresome events catching up to you. “Do you want to head out?” Taehyung softly asks, almost whispering. You’ve been daydreaming into his unfinished carrot cake, the buttercream icing having been smeared on the metallic fork with flecks of rust coloured crumbs speckled on top. The wispy thoughts haven’t been able to leave you alone quite yet, and an annoyance bubbles inside of you. Without answering, you stand up and stretch out your arms. Taehyung takes this as his queue to prepare to leave as well as he re-wraps his comfy scarf around his attractive neck. “Let’s go,” you simply say, taking one last bite off of your fork and a sip of the luke-warm chocolate drink. The two of you silently walk out of the atmospheric café, the books around you speaking to each other about all of the wondrous things they know. As you push open the door, the crisp air bites softly at the tip of your nose and whips around your head. You look over to Taehyung, who seems to be engrossed in the way the leaves are falling mesmerizingly around him. The boy doesn’t need to do much to appear effortlessly beautiful.

Your surroundings feel comfortably silent, and the light sound of the wind rushing around you fills your ears. “Well, I guess I’ll be going back home…” you manage to catch Taehyung’s attention, and he seems to deflate slowly like a balloon that was once full of helium. He quickly moves towards you, wrapping his sturdy arms around your body tightly. You freeze up at the sudden connection, confused as to why he would do this, but then allow yourself to sink securely into place. The sweetness of Tae’s scent makes you feel hazy, and you can’t think straight, your mind only focusing on the love you regrettably feel for this boy. “I’ll see you soon,” he breaths over your ear, nuzzling his head into your shoulder slightly which sends a shiver to zap down your spine. He then parts briskly with a soft smile, and turns to stroll down the concrete street. You wobble on your feet a little, still feeling the warmth that emitted from him moments ago, and you’re not too sure about how to feel. Watching for a few seconds as he disappears around the corner, you turn away and decide to carry yourself back home. The air feels floaty and light, and the cold continues to nip at your exposed face. Taehyung is never obvious about his feelings and always keeps it to himself, no matter how many times you let him know that his thoughts are safe with you. So after this mini meeting, it’s no wonder that you feel utterly lost with the minimal information he’s provided you with. Why are you this way, Taehyung? You delve into the pocket of your coat to find your tangled earphones, and after spending a couple of seconds trying your best to unravel the mess of the wire, you finally manage to get them free and you proceed to plug them haphazardly into your phone. Not before long, you finally reach your house. The walk back was quick, and you had tried not to notice the many couples strolling past you, holding hands and whispering their sweet love to each other. You couldn’t help but feel the all too familiar feeling of jealousy fizz up inside you at the sight of them. Walking inside, you sniff a laugh at the amazing job Tiffany managed to do to your house. The cleanliness feels refreshing, and it helps to clarify your mind a little. “Hello?” you say boldly into the silence of your abode. You look over to the ticking of a clock on a nearby wall, and see the arms signalling that it’s 12 o’ clock. Your parents should be back from work soon, so you take yourself to your room and flop down onto the pillowy material of your bed. Taking a few moments to stare blankly into the vast ceiling above your head, you reach over to where you have placed your phone on your bed-side table and pick it up to send a text. Your hands are shaking a little bit, but you try hard to concentrate on steadying them. [you]: Hey Jungkook, it’s nice to hear from you but I don’t know if texting each other right now would be the best idea after last night – 12:13 PM As much as you like Jungkook, the situation feels too confusing to even try and think about right now. Shutting him down early just seems like the best thing to do. But, you can’t ignore the excitement that has been bubbling in your body for the past twelve hours or so. As much as you try to deny it, you have had a longing for a simple kiss like the one the both of you shared last night.

[jungkook]: maybe its not the best idea but i feel like we need to talk about it instead of ignoring it – 12:17 PM

You guess he’s right. As per usual, you would prefer to ignore the whole circumstance and pretend like nothing ever happened. However, walking around with that feeling just wouldn’t feel settling at all. The hours that have passed by already have been uncomfortable enough, and you don’t want to have these unspoken words floating around your mind forever.

But, what could you do? Surely it would be a slight act of betrayal to meet up with Jungkook seeing as Tiffany has such a large crush on him. You don’t like him as anything more than a friend, though. If you were to see him, it would just be a casual and mutual meeting…

Maybe you could find him around school sometime soon and just clear up anything that needs to be said. You can guess the two of you have quite a few straggled thoughts you’d like to let loose.

For now, you’d have to wait until Monday morning came around, presenting a fresh week for you. You aren’t too sure if you want to have to confront the awkwardness that is obviously there, but you have to. Just then, your phone starts buzzing and a cheesy song rings through the silent room. Panicking, you swivel your eyes over to the screen, expecting to see the name you really didn’t want to see. But to your relief it’s only Tiffany, and you let your shoulders relax at your sides. As soon as you pick up the phone, you start explaining the confusing café meeting with Taehyung to your curious best friend. ______________

Once the bell begins to screech signalling to everyone that fourth period has ended, you leave your English literature class, feeling your hands beginning to get clammy over the thought of bumping into Jungkook. Why on Earth is this making you so nervous? You’ve been cautiously roaming through the school the entire day, scurrying over to your next lesson whilst trying not to make eye contact with any of the students around you.

There’s no reason for me to be this anxious for Christ’s sake!

Stopping to breath for a millisecond, you close your eyes lazily and let your body relax. You’ve let the entire situation get to you way too much now. Feeling your stomach rumbling under your sweater, you decide to head to the cafeteria.

Picking up your usual cheese ciabatta, juice box and fruit pack, you make your way over to pay. As you wait, you let your eyes scatter around the faces filling the room. You shake your head a little, scolding yourself for worrying again.

As you’re wandering back to the study room for the upper students, you bump into a fairly broad and strong body just like in a cliché high school movie. Before you even look up, the strong smell of the sweet cologne jogs your memory, helping you guess who is standing in front of you.

“Hey…Y/N,” a wary voice greets you, and straight away you manage to match the sound to the strikingly cute face of Jungkook. You look up to see his shiny glass eyes staring back into yours, and he clears his throat after a few seconds, blinking profusely whilst trying to find somewhere else to hold his gaze.

“Sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going,” you lightly laugh and shrug your shoulders, receiving a soft smile from the boy. You begin to push past him to escape the tightness of the situation, but manage to snatch that thought up quickly before going through with it, taking a few steps back.

Jungkook’s eyes circuit your face, clearly waiting for you to say something. You wrack your brain for a simple sentence to shoot at him until you finally do. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you, which I guess doesn’t make sense as I haven’t replied to your text…” you rush out rather messily, and a small smile etches into the corner of Jungkook’s soft lips.

“It’s fine honestly, I guess it’s better to talk in person really,” he says lightly, “Shall we walk back together?”

You begin to walk back slowly, managing to keep a comfortable space between the two of you. Although the words that need to be said are circling around on your tongue, none of them are succeeding in coming out. Up until now, you hadn’t realised that Jungkook has been taking you the longer route back round. You glance at him in your peripheral vision to see him looking rather confident, shoulders broad and chin up, not something you’re used to seeing from him.

Turning into a fairly empty corridor, Jungkook slows down his pace which, in turn, slows down yours too. You turn back to see him looking down at his dawdling feet.

“Look Y/N, I’m really sorry for what happened the other night…” Oh no, is he going to confess to something?

“I really didn’t know what I was thinking, but I’ve been meaning to tell you that I-”

Before he can finish his sentence, you awkwardly rush to place your arms around his strong body, trying to hug away the sentence he was going to spill. As much as you want to regret this feeling, you can’t help but feel ever so slightly comfortable in his arms, like you meld perfectly into him.

The two of you freeze for a couple of seconds before he brings you in tighter. Now you feel like you can’t back out. By trying to fix the situation, you’ve only gone and made it so much more complicated.

“It’s all fine, honestly,” you murmur as you push yourself out of his hold, “Just a little… confusing, that’s all.”

A pair of high heels clip-clop down one of the hallways nearby, making you decide it’s time to head back and fast. Without giving him a warning, you carry on your endeavour down the corridor to the student room, hearing his sneakers squeak on the flooring behind you to catch up.

The two of you are welcomed back into the room by loud male voices and a snide look coming from Bella’s pointy face. You screw your eyebrows together lightly, not knowing whether to smile in response. Namjoon and Hoseok whizz their way up to Jungkook and greet him with a slap on the back before noticing you standing by his side. “Oh hey Y/N, how’re you doing?” Namjoon calmly asks, swivelling his eyes carefully between you and Jungkook.

From over Namjoon’s shoulder, you notice Taehyung perk up a little at the sound of your name. He had been sitting with his back to the door when you entered, with Bella chattering away to his face, clearly trying too hard to impress him. You watch as he turns his head around, his stare melting immediately into your eyes. It has only been a few days since you’d seen him, but his beauty feels just as refreshing as ever.

Taehyung’s eyes quickly darken as he notices Jungkook’s sturdy body standing closely by you, and he runs a nervous hand through his soft, shiny locks. For some reason, you find yourself hoping that somewhere in his mind, a green surge of jealousy is digging away.

Bella swings her head from side to side, her bright hair flowing around her face majestically. Her pointy eyebrow arches like a dagger and you quickly divert your eyes from hers. A couple of seconds pass by with no one saying a word, so you decide to take it upon yourself to fix the situation. “Come on then, let’s go join the rest of them!” you say proudly, putting your arms around Hoseok and Jungkook to pull them both forward to the group sitting in the corner.

Taehyung abruptly turns his back to face you again, and you feel slightly taken aback by the harshness of his movement. The atmosphere in the room feels off to you, the dryness in your throat starting to itch. But with some forced energy, you try to ignore it.

“Hey, everyone!” you announce, managing to somehow catch the attention of the well-dressed guys who are mindlessly spinning around on chairs. Each one of them has a unique sense of style, something that is so aesthetically pleasing to you. Next to Jimin, you notice a pretty face surrounded by a mass of mousey brown curly hair staring at you in awe. It’s Tiffany. You have been so distracted by Taehyung that you hadn’t even noticed your best friend hiding away in the corner.

She has her hands clasped to her phone and is looking up at you with a sort of scepticism. A thin layer of cold sweat breaks out on your back, and you hold your breath for a couple of seconds. You guess that she has been watching the entire time.

“Hi, Y/N,” Bella replies through her teeth, “And hello, Kookie.”

Your body cringes at the nickname. Taehyung has told you multiple times that Jungkook is rarely called that, the name only staying safe within their tight friendship group. You look out of the corner of your eye to witness Jungkook’s shoulders tensing slightly, watching as a little puff that resembles a laugh slip through his lips.

Before he can even reply, Bella carries on talking. “So, how are you two? Is this a thing now?” She raises both of her hands to exaggerate her point, causing the rest of the group to look like they’re watching a tennis game, turning their heads carefully to look at the two opposing sides.

You look at her for a couple of seconds, trying to make sense of what she means. Tiffany looks at you with an added awareness of the situation and you shake yourself out of your thoughts.

“What do you-”

“It’s just that I saw the two of you looking rather cosy in the hallway back there,” Bella callously interrupts again, looking straight through you with painfully innocent eyes.

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