#it’s why I dedicate so much time to working out (when I’m healthy enough to)

[pangur-and-grim]

this broken leg experience has made me realize how much muscle you need just to move around the house. I can walk without the cast now, but squatting to pick something up? kneeling and then rising? even standing for a long period in the kitchen takes a lot. and carrying things too, that’s something I couldn’t do while hopping about on crutches. every night I’ve been going to sleep with sore legs and arms just from performing my normal non-intensive household tasks.

[cinewhore]

The Only Exception - extended cut

Pairing: Michael Berzatto x fem!reader - Carmen Berzatto & fem!reader

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: mentions of drinking, toxic family dynamics, smut 18+ (groping, male receiving oral, penetration, unprotected sex, facial cumshot), canon death, angst and fluff. 

A/N: I wrote something a tad bit sadder and decided not to post it because the episode (s2 ep 6) was bad enough but why not? Dedicated to my lovely friend @spiderispunk​. No beta cause I don’t wanna. Ignore all spelling errors. Hope y'all enjoy. Credits to the gif creator. 

Nothing ever goes smoothly with the Berzatto’s.

Why you thought this holiday dinner was going to be any different was beyond any rational comprehension.

Trying not to be a complete klutz and ruin the side dish you’ve been working on the entire day, you delicately balance it in your left hand while adjusting your scarf tighter around your neck with your right. Putting a pep in your step, you round the corner from where you parked, spotting the stoop instantly.

It was a rare sighting to see all three of the Berzatto siblings together. With Carmy being away at culinary school, Mikey doing his own thing with the restaurant and Natalie living her life, one person always missed the other. It warmed your heart to see just how much they cared about each other, even if they didn’t show it in a normal or healthy way.

“Is that who I think it is?” Mikey’s voice booms over the light traffic passing by, handing Carmy the cigarette he was puffing on.

You crack a smile, despite it feeling like your lips were stuck together due to the cold weather. “Sorry, I’m a bit late. Fuckin’ cat had my keys.”

“How many times did I tell you to get rid of the cat?” Mikey leans down to kiss you but you turn your head, forcing him to peck you on the cheek instead.

“C’mon, baby.” he drawls, throwing you a bashful smile.

You huff out a sigh, lowering your voice. “You know I hate the smoking.”

Mikey nods, face fading into something serious before vanishing. “I know you do. You didn’t bring fish, did you?”

Side-stepping the tall Berzatto, you get pulled into a hug by Natalie, followed by Carmen.

“Hello, gorgeous! It’s so good to see you!” Natalie kisses you on both cheeks before making the move to grab the dish out of your hands. You pull back, shooting her a look.

“Nat, please. I got it.”

“Are you sure?” you watch as her bottom lip quivers a bit. You steal a glance at Carmy, who just shakes his head..

“Fuck. How bad is it?” you gaze at the disheveled trio, awaiting an answer.

Finally, Mikey breaks the silence.

“It’s at a five. Six, at best.”

You lick your lips, rocking back and forth on your heels. “That’s not too bad, right?”

“Right.” Carmy agrees, with Natalie humming in agreement.

“Just don’t fucking ask if she’s doing ok.” Mikey glimpses at his sister, placing hand on your lower back to guide you into the house.

You take a deep breath and exhale through your nose, plastering a smile on your face before entering the shit show.

You’d only been there an hour and you were called the wrong name three times, objectified, cursed at and now Fak was trying to get you to put up five hundred dollars for baseball cards.

Listening with great intent, nodding at all the right times, twirling the wine in glass in your hands desperately wanting to get another refill had your social energy spent.

“We could make you a lot of money, cousin.” Fak goes on, nudging his brother for support.

“Yeah-yeah! Think about what you could do with fifteen hundred bucks! Cold hard cash!” Theodore chimes in.

“Wow, no, yeah this-this sounds like the opportunity of a lifetime.” you murmur. Don’t take it the wrong way, you loved Fak. His personality was infectious, you’ve never seen him get overly angry despite the other guys giving him shit and he genuinely goes out of his way to help everyone. Back when you first started dating Mikey and moved apartments in the city, Fak volunteered to make sure your place was in tiptoe shape and refused payment.

Just then Steve, Michelle’s husband, passes by and you seize your opportunity.

“Steve! How are you?” you beckon him over, scooting over on the tiny couch so he could sit beside you.

“Ah, yes. Mikey’s girl who we aren’t sure how he managed to snag. Good to see you again.”

You brush off his comment with a tired smile, gesturing to Fak and his brother. “So, these guys have a proposition for you, right?”

You nod enthusiastically with them, giving Fak a secret wink.

“Oh, yes! Yes! Do you like baseball cards, Steve?”

“On that note,” you stand up and maneuver yourself out the nook. “I’m gonna go get a refill. Leave you gentlemen to handle business.”

Mocking a military salute, you dash towards the kitchen bypassing other members of the family.

Donna flurries around the kitchen, shouting instructions to no one in particular. You didn’t greet her as soon as you came in, knowing how she gets around this time of the year. To be honest, you were sure that she didn’t exactly like you.

“Donna, my goodness! You look wonderful.” you lay the complement on sweetly, smiling brightly. If you don’t wilt in her presence, she wouldn’t be able to smell the fear on you.

Donna swivels her head to look at you, cigarette dangling from her lipstick smeared lips. Eyes lined in thick mascara, her disapproving expression ripples through you. You smile wider.

“I brought over a little casserole. I figured it would compliment the fish nicely.”

Shifting to face you fully, Donna crosses her arms. “Casserole? What casserole?”

You point to the tin foiled dish. “That one. Mikey brought in, did he not tell you?”

She scoffs. “Yeah, just like he told me about him breaking things off with what’s her name.”

“Anna.” you mutter, swallowing the lump that quietly made its way up your throat.

“Yeah, Anna.” Donna turns back to the task at hand, haphazardly swinging a knife about. “I liked her better.”

Forgoing your much desired glass of wine, you stalk out of the kitchen. On the outside looking in, the Berzatto’s appeared to be your average family. The warm glow of the lights shining out into the frost covered sidewalks invited you in all those years ago and once inside, you then realized why people were so hesitant to accept invites or why Mikey refused to bring up his past.

You didn’t have this growing up. Your family life was much quieter, mom and dad both kept to themselves. Distant cousins never visited for the holidays and you were an only child so there weren’t any siblings to fall back on.

It was boring.

Drove you crazy.

So when the Berzatto’s welcomed you in with open arms (well, some of them) you threw yourselves to the wolves willingly. It helped you grow a thick skin, talk over people and man handle the biggest guys in the room. For that, you were thankful.

A hand reaches out and grabs your wrist, dragging you away from everyone and up the stairs. Mikey is headstrong in his quest to get you alone, not caring to see if you were keeping up the pace. You both stagger inside his room, the door shut soundly behind you, followed by the lock turning.

Mikey doesn’t give you a second to react, mouth leaving open tongued kisses along your jaw and collarbone, hands working at tugging up your skirt.

“Mikey, baby, baby, wait-” you plead, backing up to create space between the two of you.

He flops onto the bed, hands on his knees, fingers raking through his hair again and again.

You’re careful as you sit next to him, scratching your own fingers along the center of his back. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” is all he utters.

“Bullshit. Talk to me.”

He doesn’t have to say anything else, you get it. The party continues below you both, profanities and insults flying like it's nobody's business. It was too much. For Mikey, Camry, anyone. The more time you spent with his family, the more you realized why Carmen never came back to visit.

Why Mikey feels trapped.

“I know.” you whisper against his shoulder, mouthing pressing in tiny kisses. You lift his head up with both of your hands, cradling his face gingerly. The tiredness exudes for nearly every crevice, eye bags worn and solidified. You use your thumb to smooth out his forehead, laughing softly when he wrinkles it more.

“You’ll always have me, Berzatto.”

“I don’t deserve you. Never did.”

You tut. “That’s not true. You’ve always had me. From the moment you sold me that greasy, sloppy sandwich down at The Beef. I was a goner.”

Mikey chuckles, leaning into your hands more. “I got you something.”

Your eyes go wide, brows forming a skeptical look. “Is that so?”

Mikey flickers his eyes down to his pants and you scoff.

“Wow, Michael. Are you gifting me your penis? Again? I must’ve been too nice this year.” you gently slap his face is mock anger.

“Haha,” he deadpans. “Try my pockets, detective wiseass.”

You let go of his face and rummage through his pants pocket, producing a ball of torn tissue paper, kept together by a single piece of tape. Confused but curious, you unwrap the gift, facing dropping as your eyes find his.

The tissue tumbles to the ground, revealing a necklace. At the bottom of it dangled a charm of…cheese?

“I remember the first day you came into the shop. Like a goddamn bat outta hell. Never seen anything like it. You ordered a grilled cheese sandwich and asked for, um, what was it?”

“Havarti-”

That’s right! Fuckin’ havarti cheese! What the hell even is that?”

“How do you own a sandwich shop and not provide a variety of cheeses, I don’t understand it.”

Mikey gawks at you. “Babe, we’re called The Beef. Not the cheese. But you wanna know what I did?”

You encourage him to finish, as if you didn’t know the rest of the story.

“I told you to wait and-and I was gonna go check in the back. I booked it out of the back door, all the way down to Malik’s corner store and bought the most expensive cheese he had. I rush back to the shop and guess what?”

“You made the sandwich.”

Mikey’s face cracks into the biggest grin you’d ever seen, eyes crinkled at the corners. “I made the goddamn sandwich. Brought it out to you myself. Told you that we didn’t serve grilled cheese but for you, I’d make an exception.”

Your eyes well over in tears and you blink rapidly to keep them from falling. “That’s the sweetest thing anyone has done for me, ya know.”

“You’re telling me all I had to do was buy you some cheese to get in your pants? Hot damn.”

You playfully shove Mikey back against the bed, crawling over to straddle him. “Well, it worked after a while, didn’t it?”

Mikey thrusts upwards, growing erection sliding against your damp underwear.

“It sure did.”

He grabs the back of your neck, surging up to slot his mouth against yours. You aren’t delicate in the way you claw at him, nails digging into his tanned flesh. Pushing up your skirt, Mikey palms your ass, stroking it before landing a hard smack against it. You moan into his neck, biting down.

“Perkiest ass I’ve ever seen, baby, shit.” Mikey groans, voice an octave deeper.

“And it’s yours. All yours.”

Mikey secures the back of your head as he flips the two of you over, pushing you down on your stomach. You do the rest of the work for him, sticking your ass up, and curving your back into an arch.

Mikey readily pulls down the zipper of his pants, hands readjusting his briefs until he is able to free himself. Spitting obscenely in his palm, Mikeuy shoves your panties to the side and rubs his silvia across your slickness. You buck back into him, whimpering when he graces you with a lone finger to loosen you up. You whine, and wiggle your ass some more, ready to receive all that he was going to give you.

“Gonna give my baby what she wants, don’t you worry.” Mikey purrs, aligning himself to enter you. He slides in easily, the strained sigh as he fully situates him inside you never ceases to make you wetter.

You pull yourself up so that you were resting on your hands, peeking over your shoulder to catch a gaze at Mikey as you being to fuck him. He was enthralled at the sight of his cock pumping in and out of you, the way you were able to handle him without saying a single word.

He would love to take his time and thoroughly explore your cunt but time is of the essence. Wrapping his right hand around your neck once again, he yanks you up into a deeper arch, left hand on your hip in a deathgrip. He meets your thrusts with his own, dropping his left leg down on the floor to gain some balance.

Between the familial bickering creeping up the stairs, all that could be heard was the squelching of your pussy and the labored breathing of Mikey, muffled praises spurring you on further.

He slaps your ass again and you tighten around him, eyes rolling to the top of your head as you attempt to hold onto his arms for dear life.

“Mikey, oh fucking god, baby you’re gonna make me come so hard. Please, please, please!”

He answers you by sticking his fingers in your mouth and you automatically clamp down on them, sucking and gagging until spit dribbles down the side of your mouth.

Mikey picks up speed and the line breaks as you reach your peak, legs stiffening as you rear back against Mikey. He continues to fuck, albeit at a slower tempo, humming as you spasm against him.

“That’s my girl, my favorite fucking girl. Where do you want mine, huh? Tell me where you want it.”

He removes his fingers and lets them trail down to tease and pick at your hardened nipples that now poke through your shirt.

“I wanna taste. Want it in my mouth.”

“Fuck.” Mikey lets you go and you catch yourself before you fall completely face first into the bed.

“Get on your knees, now.”

You do as you're told, scurrying to position yourself on your knees in front of Mikey. Mouth open and head tilted back, you let a hand caress your breast as the other slithers up his thigh.

Mikey is affectionate as he goes to grab the back of your head, other hand tirelessly stroking his cock. A vein pops out of forehead as he grunts, a few milky droplets coating your face, before steady ropes accompany it. A few of them land in your mouth and you swallow them all eagerly.

Mikey tries to calm his breathing, watching you with hooded eyes as you lick at the tip of his cock, cleaning up the remnants of yourself off of him. You take him down all the way to the shaft for shits and giggles, pulling off of him with a low pop.

“Goddamn devil.”

You wink, swiping at the mess you could feel dripping on your face. Mikey helps to clean you up, both fixing each other’s clothes to appear less wrinkled. Seemingly ok with your appearance, you start to head downstairs but Mikey stops you.

He steps behind you, lifting up the necklace he got you. He fastens it, walking to your front to admire it.

You grab his hand and bring it to your mouth for a kiss.

“It’s you and me, Berzatto.”

“You and me.”

Inhaling heavily, you open the door to reenter the Berzatto family chaos, a new found confidence lighting your path.

That was roughly four years ago.

Or maybe five.

You stopped counting.

You had been going about your day as usual, still getting settled into your new apartment. Boston was a whole new monster to wrangle with but you managed to get by so far. It didn’t feel like home but you figured over time, it would. A lie that spun around and around in your head until it sounded like a foreign language.

The invitation throws you off guard as you thumb through your mail, ignoring the pile of bills for the yellow envelope sealed with a stamp of a bear.

Your hands twitch a little as you instantly drop everything else you were holding onto the overly crowded dining table. You don’t think twice as you rip the stamp off, clawing to get the card out.

Missing you. The Bear opens soon, I’d love to have you come out for a pre-opening. Hoping that you’re doing well in Boston, we have so much to catch up on. My number is still the same.

See you soon - Sugar

P.s. - Fak says hi.

The bottom of the card details the information for the restaurant and the date of the opening. You bite at your lip, glancing around your apartment. It was a dream: your new job, the neighborhood, the coffee shop down the block with the best matcha latte. It was quiet, not complicated and yours. All yours.

Going home, back to the place you ran from seemed stupid. Everything would unravel and you’d fall to pieces again but this time no one would be there to put you back together.

Reaching across the mess, you fish out your laptop. This was a reunion worth unraveling for.

You’re late. So fucking late. It wasn’t your fault though! The plane got delayed and then there was the traffic and you smelled like an airport and desperation so you rushed to the hotel to change. One thing always leads to another but it didn’t matter anymore because you were stepping out of the taxi, smoothing down your coat and anxiously fixing your hair.

You take powerful strides as you approach the restaurant, mouth agape. You couldn’t believe it. What used to be The Beef, the place you spent the majority of your time after work fucking with Richie until Mikey got off, was gone. It was now replaced with a groomed, streamlined, chic replica that stuck out like a sore thumb amidst the rest of the block.  

A car horn sounds and you’re brought back to reality, invitation gripped tightly in your hand. You mumble one last prep talk to yourself before pushing the door open.

A wave of amber and vanilla hit your nostrils first, eyes picking out the candles that were placed around the dining area. The place wasn’t packed but you knew this was because you were late and not because it wasn’t good. If you knew anything about Carmen and his career, it was that the fucker knew how to make good food. He just didn’t know that he did.

A woman clad in all black smiles as she walks up to you, a slight quizzical look on her face.

“Forgive me ma’am but I’m afraid that this is a private event. The restaurant will open to the public soon.”

You shake your head, waving the letter in front of her face. “Oh, I was, uh, invited. I’m so sorry I’m late, my plane-”

Richie strides out of the kitchen, stopping in his tracks once he sees you.

“Holy fucking shit.”

You couldn’t help the amused grin that crosses your face, taking in the new and improved Richie. You hate to admit it but he looks good. Tapered cut, fitted black suit, not too heavy on the cologne and simple accessories to match? What the hell did you miss?

“Holy fucking shit.” you whisper, voice morphing into a high pitched squeal as Richie hugs you, lifting you off the ground.

Upon putting you down, you stand back, motioning wildly at Richie’s figure.

“Oh my god! Are you in a cult? Did they brainwash you? Will the real Richie please stand up.” you clap in front of Richie’s face a few times, to which he swats away.

“A real fucking comedian, huh?” He pulls you into a hug again, inhaling your scent.

“How have you been, cousin?”

Richie pulls away, leading you to a fully set table. You thank him as he pulls out your seat, taking the one across from you. He shrugs at the question, gaze traveling around the restaurant.

“Been busy. Bustin’ my balls to keep this place in tiptop shape.”

You nod, momentarily distracted by a server filling up your wine glass. You pick it up and take a whiff, eyebrow raised. A classic white. Your favorite.

“This is really nice, like, I expected something but this,” you take a moment. “This is something else entirely.”

“Yeah, it is.”

Richie admires you as you sip your wine and continue to look around, getting washed over in nostalgia. He remembers the good days. The days were Mikey was happy, the two of you bantering while making dinner for him, Eva and Tiffany. You were making sure he stayed the course, keeping him sober. Then, for whatever reason he just couldn’t fucking understand, it collapsed. He lost everything he never really had in the first place.

Natalie barges from the back of the house a few seconds after, screaming at the top of her lungs the second she sees you. You both speak over each other, holding each other tightly and taking turns petting Natalie’s stomach.

“Oh my god, Nat! You’re going to be a mom!” you exclaim, hands pressed on the sides of your face.

Natalie sighs, tears falling. “I’m gonna be a mom!”

“I can’t fucking believe it.”

“Neither can I. It just sort of happened.”

You nod, plopping back down in your seat while Richie gets out of his, helping Natalie sit in it instead.

“Cousin, I’m gonna get your order sorted. I’ll be right back.” Richie announces, planting a kiss on Sugar’s head before disappearing to the kitchen.

“It’s been like four years?” you say, gauging Sugar’s expression. You didn’t mean for her to get caught up in your mess once you moved away but she was the only constant reminder of Chicago that you had and you were thankful. The eldest and only daughter syndrome really popped off with her.

It’s amazing how easy you’re able to flow back in conversation with her. You catch up with each other’s lives, tiny bits of gossip filling the cracks. You avoid bringing up Donna, not wanting to tamper Natalie’s mood as she happily chatters about the nursery. Dinner feels like old times and before you realize it, you were scraping your finger across the dessert plate to savor the sweet tanginess of the course.

“Where’s Carmy? I’d like to congratulate the man of the hour.” you wipe your hands with your napkin, polishing off your wine.

Sugar rocks her jaw, eyes cast downwards. You knew the two of them had a somewhat strained relationship but you figured since she decided to work with Carmy, things had settled between the two of them.

“He should be in the kitchen cleaning or probably out back smoking a cigarette. Filthy.”

You hum, sliding out from behind the table. You peck Sugar on the cheek and stroll through the kitchen, murmuring hello’s to those you haven’t seen in a while.

Sugar’s assumptions are true, Carmy perched on the concrete near the dumpster. He does a double take when he sees you but doesn’t get up from his spot.

You’re careful as you sit next to him and upon seeing that you’re wearing a dress underneath your coat he panics, trying to stop you before it’s too late.

“Hey, no, you don’t need to sit down here, we can go back inside-”

“Carmen, sit down. Please.”

Carmen nods and joins you. You dig around your coat pocket for your vape, taking a long drag before exhaling.

You two smoke in a comfortable silence for a while. Carmen was your favorite in this regard, knowing that around him you didn’t have to say anything. You could just shut the fuck up and enjoy each others presence.

Carmy nudges his knee alongside yours. “You think he would’ve liked this?”

You ponder on it a little, taking another hit from your pen. “You definitely would’ve fought over the menu. And where is the poster?”

“What poster?”

“The poster, Carmen.”

“What fucking poster? I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“The goddamn baseball poster! You know the one. It was in the office before, I think.”

“Oh, that one. Yeah, Sydney fell through the wall, tore a hole in it.”

You scoff, taken aback by Carmy’s nonchalant response. “Fell through a wall?”

“Yes but don’t worry. Richie taped it back together.”

“Fuck the poster, Carmy, how is Sydney?”

Carmen shrugs. “She’s good. Makes a good partner.”

You nod, staring back at the restaurant. “She managed to pull this shit out of your ass, color me impressed.”

Another beat.

“Hey,” you move your legs so that you are leaning against Carmy, huddling against his shoulder. “I want to apologize.”

Carmy takes the bait. “For what?”

“For leaving. I just ran. Didn’t say goodbye, didn’t look back. You didn’t deserve that. None of you did. Mikey fucking ruined me. I felt selfish though, you know? Cause I was just someone he dated but you, Sugar, Richie..y’all were his blood.”

You feel Carmy take a deep breath, head drifting over to the side so that it rests on top of yours. “You don’t need to apologize for that. You were his fucking heart, he talked about you all the time it was annoying as shit. Plus, everybody runs.”

“You didn’t.”

Carmy glares at the restaurant. “Not sure I can agree with you on that.”

“After Mikey, I just felt like I failed, you know? I tried so hard. I did. I thought we made it over the rough parts but just like that, he slipped. I couldn’t pick him up anymore.” you pluck at your legs, getting stuck in your thoughts.

“You didn’t fail him.” Carmy mumbles.

“Neither did you.”

For once, Carmy lets the words settle in his chest, soothing the frightened side of him that constantly tells him he’s not good enough. It was temporary, he knew this, but it didn’t stop him from indulging in the sentiment.

“You could stay, you know. I could take care of you.”

Camry’s offer catches you off guard and you untangle yourself from him to look in his eyes. Behind them you could see the Carmy you once knew. It hurt, knowing that he was still torturing himself over the loss of Mikey, grappling with the opening of his restaurant. So much pressure on one person who swore that he couldn’t feel it and wouldn’t dare let anyone help him carry the load.

You smooth his hair back, giving him a sad smile.

“I think it’s time I took care of myself, Carmen. Boston is good. I’m gonna be ok. You need to take care of you, man. Someone’s gotta make sure Richie doesn’t strangle himself with his new ties.”

Carmen laughs and even flashes teeth.

“By the way, what is up with that? Fucker looks like he belongs with the secret service.”

“He was mad about the forks.”

You give a half shrug. “Forks. Yup, got it.”

You weren’t sure what was going to become of The Bear but you knew that if Carmy kept his head on straight, he’d get through all the shit life put him through.

He was a fucking Berzatto.

They never went down without a fight. And god help those who fucked with bears.

[igglemouse]

So today is Summer Solstice Day which means...a celebration of summer, I guess? I do have one minor plan for it and that's to visit the local swim park later today with Pascal. At least for a moment. He actually has to work today but I know we'll make the most of the time we have together.

As for now I'm starting my morning cooking an egg salad! I think that's a healthy breakfast!

I think I've gotten used to cooking breakfast for Pascal. I never would have imagined it, to be honest, spending my time in the kitchen for my boyfriend but...it's not a problem for me because cooking is no chore. It's something I really enjoy doing and it seems like Pascal enjoys it as well.

"Egg salad?" he looks down at the meal I had prepped for him with some, looking down at his bowl with some distaste. "N-no, I'm not saying its bad but-"

"Give it a try!" I tell him, although the look on his face tells me he's not too excited about it. "You said you are on a strict diet! I figure you'd need lots of proteins and-"

"Frida, yes, but...it's nothing. I was hoping you'd cook those waffles of yours or pancakes or...something like that? This way I have an excuse for cheating on my meal today when the team dietician asks me. I'd say, oh, my girlfriend made this, but this..." he looks down at the bowl again and shakes his head. "You are way too considerate!" he jokes.

After we finish our breakfast we settle into something more usual. He was studying his next opponent while I couldn't allow myself to live in a dirty house with dust floating around everywhere.

And after that he's outside kicking a ball around. It makes me think about what Sara had said days ago of him. How dedicated he is to his craft which is something I certainly see now. It's almost like he's practicing before going out to practice?

But as I've mentioned today, for me at least, is about summer and celebrating summer! So, I manage to drag Pascal off to the community pool park and thankfully, with it being so cloudy for whatever reason, we both drop right into the pool before others arrive.

We basically just spend some time wading through the water, teasing each other, and splashing each other.

"You know, if you're such a big shot, why has no one asked for your autograph yet?" I taunt and at that he splashes me in the face with a handful of water.

"I'm still a sub, you know!"

I splash him back in the face then, revenge, but he only laughs at my attempt.

"I'll be giving you my autograph later tonight," he tells me and I can't help but laugh at that. You know, he just might, but I've learned pretty quickly that Pascal is often so very tired after 'work', yes, so tired that sex just isn't appealing and that's saying a lot because we've been at it a lot since I've virtually moved in.

Our outing together wasn't long and so off to 'work' Pascal goes, leaving me at the park pretty much alone. Some people wander in but they seem to also be on some kind of solo mission. Perhaps this is a place people come to celebrate Summer Solstice alone?

So, with little else to do I find the nearest grill and get to cooking. Barbecue is not my specialty, in fact, this is my first time using a grill and so why not try the first thing one thinks of when grilling?

I feel like my first attempt at ribs are not bad, nothing perfect, but definitely good enough to eat. Cooking is cooking, after all, and its a lot like riding a bike. At least for me.

But I really do not plan on spending the rest of this day alone and so I call in some reinforcement. Sara and Marj who, still being single ladies, were both just sitting at home doing nothing. They both jumped at the chance to meet at the pool.

It did not take long for either of them to arrive and it did not take long before we decided to settle into a hot tub. Sure, it's a public one, which kind of sucks, but once you're in, you're in, and you put any stray thoughts about what might go on in a public hot tub out of your mind.

"Surprised you just didn't invite us over to Pascal's place, I imagine it has a pool, hot tub, game room, a-"

I'm shaking my head as it really has none of that stuff.

"Must be the frugal type," Marjorie adds in along with a chuckle.

I shrug. "I've not been with him that much," I say, because I don't know anything about his finances only that they are better than mines. His house is nice but it's not the kind of place they've imagined it to be.

"You know," Sara says. "I kind of doubt that. He's the flashy type on the field. I've seen him kick it over a defenders head a few times, and then he-"

You can almost hear Marjorie's eyes rolling. "Can we not spend our time here talking about socc-"

"Fútbol!" Sara insists.

I just laugh. I might be a third wheel when it comes to these two but it's fun to watch them go back and forth.

We weren't just here to chat though because what is a day celebrating summer without some kind of summer activity? There was a waterslide at the park and no one was using it so it seemed a perfect chance to let loose a little and enjoy the day doing something a little different.

As you can see, some of us were better at water sliding than others. I won't name any names but at least no one got hurt!

We linger a little more around the pool since the day was nice, perfect almost, and it allowed us to just hang around more without the fear of melting.

Of course Sara wanted to talk about Pascal a little more which at this point I would not allow because she can be annoyingly nosy. Already knowing about Sara's situation and her lack of confidence when it comes to men I instead direct my curiosity towards Marjorie. "Do chu have a boyfriend?"

Sara starts to laugh then and Marjorie does too but only after some time.

"Marjorie has a mens every season, for about a week and then..." she starts laughing again. "He dumps her-"

"No!" Marjorie cuts in right away. "I dump him! Look, my advice to you, Frida, if Pascal is halfway decent, cling to him, because you might not find anyone better."

"She's very picky," Sara teases although I can tell this tease isn't met with mirth or humor from Marjorie.

"That is bad?" I ask a little casually but I can tell from the small smile Marj gives that she appreciates that.

"Thank you, Frida. Some of us just have high standards. I'd rather be single and happy than coupled and miserable."

Thankfully the tension between these two remained light and we were happy to continue our outing and talk about anything other than relationships or Pascal.

I get back home and decide to make a little ice cream for myself. I think sometimes I get so caught up cooking for others that I rarely make things for myself. That definitely needs to change and so it's nice having a cone of ice cream solely for myself.

I wasn't sure what to do with the rest of my day and just when I think it'll be possible to just sit back, kick my feet up, and relax, I get a call.

It's from Irene, my new friend. She asks if it is alright if her boss comes over and talk to me about a job opportunity. That he's interested in hiring me.

How can I say no to that? I might as well see what he's offering, like I mentioned before.

And so I wait until he arrives and once he does we sit down on the couch. I'm starting to realize that while I don't really live here I'm staring to behave as if I do, after all, I'm inviting someone into Pascal's place while he's not here. I hope he'll be alright with it? He's not here to say anything about it at least.

Any ways, the man introduces himself as Martin Lucena and I can tell just by how he carries himself that he's a man that gets right to business and he proves it because the first thing he says to me after introductions is "So, here is my offer. You come in as a sous-chef, 2nd in command, and-"

"I-I'm not sure I can do that," and here I am already denying his offer. My reply comes out too quick, I'm not sure why but already the vibe is off. There's a desperation hiding in his offer that tells me this is the wrong move. I'm ready to tell him to have a good day and escort him out but he's stuck to the couch, deciding he will not be put off so easily.

"I was going to say that you would not have the responsibilities of the role, do not worry, I realize you don't have the experience for it but I do think your presence would help my business."

No, this is not right. I might not be the smartest girl but I was born with street smarts. I had to be in order to still have a head on my shoulders. Why give someone a job if you don't think they are capable of doing it? "How? How can I help?"

"You bring a level of authenticity to the restaurant," he admits. "Your food stand is as authentic as can be, its why it's doing so well. People can tell you do it because you enjoy doing it, people can tell you honor your heritage, people can just feel it. It's, well, IT, as it's called. You have an aura around you that people want to be around."

"Yes yess..." I'm not convinced.

"So you'll be paid well, you won't have to do much. You'll have to close your food stand, of course, you'll be making a lot more," he laughs a little, too dismissively for my tastes. "So you won't need that little stand right now."

"No." I say, that decided it for me. While his logic is sound I don't like the feeling of it. It feels wrong. If he had told me that I could keep my stand open maybe I would have changed my initial feeling on this but...

"No?" He repeats as if he needs to hear it again. "What do you mean no? We can negotiate a little, we can-"

"No, no to it all." I clarify because it seems he wasn't getting it. "Thank chu for the job but no. Just no."

A large groan pushes from his lips, his face twists into one of anger and only anger, and I'm suddenly wishing Pascal were here but before those fears could settle his face softens.

"What a stupid mistake, the biggest mistake you've made in your young life." The tone to his voice tells me this is not over. What this is, I'm not sure, but I know that I've made an enemy today.

"Y-your place es very good, Mr. Lucena! I love eating there and I-"

"We're done here. I do not waste time with fools."

He leaves in a huff and a puff and makes me regret meeting him at all.

Episode List - Next Episode 5 ‘Offsides’

[niyana-the-ambiguous-mobian]

New Story time!

This one is dedicated to the ever so talented @cosmoshard, who made the rough sketch that inspired this piece in the first place,

also, this serves as some semi-revenge on her for making me cry on my birthday XD

This time, the story is focused the ARK siblings themselves, Shadow and Maria!

=========================================

“Are you almost done yet grandpa?” Maria impatiently rocked back and forth on her feet, earning a light wack on her head from a piece of paper. “Hey!”

“Hold still, Maria! Your back needs to be straight and still.” Gerald exclaimed, the marker he was holding nearly creating a mark on top of Maria’s head, taking a moment trying to rub the stain from her hair with his fingers.

Maria made a face at Gerald, moving her head away from his hands. “I am holding still, grandpa! I’m trying to make sure I’m getting taller!”

“Well, you’re not making it easier with you doing all this fidgeting.” He placed his hands and her shoulders to keep her still. “Now just keep still. And don’t stand on your toes either.”

The girl fought the urge to roll her eyes as her grandfather finally made a mark on the wall, drawing a straight line while she backed away, bouncing on her feet. “Ok, you’re all done.”

She looked among marks and lines from previous measuring sessions, seeing that the current one was hovering above the previous line.

She let out a gasp and started jumping up and down. “I grew! I got taller, grandpa! See, look at it!”

”Yes, yes I see it.” He gave a pat to her head, taking notes on his clipboard. He walked over to his desk with Maria following close behind him.

She moved in front of him while he continued to write. “I can’t believe the new line you drew was higher this time! How tall am I now?”

Gerald paused and lifted up one of the papers to read it. “Well, according to the results, you’ve grown…” He stopped mid sentence, a look of surprise. “Oh my, this is odd.”

Maria stopped her joyful skipping, sensing his change in tone. “What, what is it?”

”It says here that your height from this month is less than it was last month.” He hung his head down, sighing dramatically and placing a hand on her shoulder. “I’m afraid that you're shrinking, my dear.”

His granddaughter’s face went from worried to annoyed in a second flat, pushing his hand away and rolling her eyes. “Grandpa….”

The man chuckled at her unamused expression. “I’m only teasing, you’ve grown about a total of 6 inches from last month. You’re about 4’3 now. Almost getting to 5 feet already.”

Maria’s face lit up and did a celebratory dance with some spinning involved, nearly bumping into Gerald in the process and tripping over her feet. He quickly caught her before she fell over, slinging an arm around her and pulling her close to his side.

”My goodness, I’ve never seen you so excited about something like this before, may I ask why?”

Wrapping her arms around him, she raised her head with a wide smile on her face. “Because! It’s the first time I’ve gotten this tall in awhile. You always told me that healthy kids grow big and tall whenever they eat their veggies and get enough sleep, it’s finally working for me!”

The smile on Gerald’s face faltered when she finished by hugging him tighter. Bless this child for keeping her hope high with a statement like this.

He always told her when she was younger that those things were important to do, eating as much healthy food to keep her immune system from failing, getting enough sleep so her body can get its rest, even those times where he told her not to tell lies otherwise her nose would grow long each time she did.

It made him grateful knowing that these little things were making a difference for her in her lonely life up here in the colony, even though it felt like it was wrong giving her such high expectations for her condition, since there was no cure for it but making her think that something like this is actually helping her illness when in reality it would barely make a dent in it overall broke his heart even more.

He forced a smile on his face and squeezed her back. “You're very right on that. I told you it would work out eventually.”

Maria beamed a wide smile, skipping towards the door. “Where are you heading off to?” Gerald called after her, making her nearly slip on the floor when she slowed herself down.

“I'm going tell him about it!”

“Who?”

“Shadow! He's been wondering if I was getting better, I gotta go and tell him before he gets worried!” She ran out of the room as soon as she finished, her pigtailed hair flying out wildly behind her as she disappeared before the doors even closed.

Gerald stood there in ear numbing silence, his hands clenched up into fists as those last words lasting through his ears like a forever frozen echo.

‘Wondering if I was getting better’....

A grim expression masked over his face. “Oh my child, if only it were as simple as that for you.”

Read the rest on Ao3!

[ryuichirou]

Replies

Today we talk about Idia ships again + the Leech parents (there is a sketch down there) + some other random stuff!

Anonymous asked:

i found out that one of my favorite western artists has a partner whose art i also like. that makes them the third english speaking artist couple that i can count on for my favorite cesty ships (two shroudcest and the other is of another fandoms' ships), and that includes you two on the list :D i just think it's funny and cute enough to share

Ohh, that’s so cool and adorable! I love artistic duos hehehehe.

Thank you for telling us, Anon! I’m happy that we are on your list ❤️

Anonymous asked:

Do you like reading or hearing about other folks OCs?

I do, but unfortunately I don’t have time, energy or mental capacity to do it these days. There are a lot of people waiting for me to reply at this point and I feel bad enough for making them wait…

Whenever I draw commissions though, I like it when a person talks about the character a little bit. It helps me to get a better feeling of what the character is like as I draw them.

Anonymous asked:

So you have who Idia would be the happiest with…now who would he be the worst off with? Also who would he have the most toxic relationship with and why?

Hmm, let’s just say that any ship that we have with Idia has some potential to become toxic at some point. Especially considering the fact that we kind of love toxic ships lol Ortho/Idia is toxic in a way: aside for obvious reasons, they have codependency, and them being together would enable Idia to never poke his nose out of his shell. But even if this situation ends up being a huge mess and dynamic becomes completely unhealthy, I can’t imagine Idia being miserable or unhappy in any way: Ortho is his everything.

Speaking of shells, Azul/Idia also has a lot of toxic potential, and this is really the point of our Marriage AU with these two. They work well together, and they would have happy moments, they could even end up being an almost healthy couple if they work through their issues (and both of them got plenty), but it requires a lot of dedication, empathy and being able to compromise, and they kind of lack some of these things. Communication also matters – Azul doesn’t want to show his vulnerable side and doesn’t even register some of his own emotions, and Idia doesn’t want to burden himself with helping Azul through this either. So it’s very possible for Idia to realise that he is very unhappy with Azul after some time… well, we talked about it a lot in replies about Idia escaping Azul’s “golden cage” in the AU. It could also take a very dark turn, because Azul is capable of doing scary things when he is hurt, and he is very jealous, petty and vindictive.

Can’t say much about Lilia, because as we established it wouldn’t be much of a relationship, but all the time they would spend together would probably be a happy time for Lilia and Idia; the only thing that sours this experience and makes it a horrible memory is the fact that it would end at some point.

The Tweels would probably be an easy answer for this question lol But then again, they wouldn’t really date… but realistically, Idia is the worst off with them. They’re just playing with Idia, even if they genuinely like him. Even if they’re obsessed with him and want to keep him by their side forever, he is still more of a pet than a partner, and that’s kind of toxic lol

I guess Sebek is also an option, but if they miraculously end up having an affair, it would probably end pretty soon :( It would be a very fast yet toxic storm of emotions lol

Speaking of Sebek…

Anonymous asked:

I notice that in several different posts that Sebek never really sees Idia as an equal rather as someone who should feel lucky that he even has Sebek’s attention for any amount of time. On the flip side, though, I also noticed that Sebek also gets jealous (such as in the Evil Exes post and the reply where he caught Lilia and Idia doing it). Is this a purely possessive thing where he thinks that Idia has no business being with anyone else because reasons, does he genuinely have feelings for him, or does it just hurt his feelings in a general sort of way? What are they, really, in their own minds?

Hehehe SEBEIDE MY LOVELIESSSS thank you for sending an ask about them, Anon! I’m happy to talk about them. And that you saw the Evil Exes post, which means you’re from ko-fi. Thank you for supporting us <3

Sebek is very confused: it’s probably a mix of everything that you’ve described. He doesn’t like Idia because he irritates him and makes him mad in record times with just one little provocation or snarky remark. Idia goes against everything that Sebek believes in, therefore in his mind they are… what exactly? Sebek can’t really pinpoint it, and he probably won’t even want to do so. Even if they have sex several times, Sebek flip-flops between “this is a huge mistake, why would I do it” and “I’m blessing your pathetic self with my glory and you should be thankful”. This is the level of Sebek’s own understanding.

In actuality, he does enjoy the intimacy; he does get thrilled when Idia provokes him. Maybe it’s due to the fact that Idia is just so wrong on so many levels in Sebek’s mind, but he is drawn to him. He wants to fix him, to break his cynical mind into understanding that he is wrong and Sebek is right. But Sebek only gets more mocking, which means no closure, which means the obsession grows stronger.

Is he jealous? Yeah, on a very childish level. He doesn’t like Idia, but he enjoys whatever they have, so he feels possessive. It also feels super wrong to him that people like Lilia would treat Idia any better than he deserves to be treated.

But also Sebek probably wants to be special to Idia. The fact that he spent all this energy screaming his truths into Idia’s snarky face and breaking his body into obedience and yet that ended up meaning absolutely nothing is very painful for his poor soul lol He desperately wants him to say “thank you, Sebek, for explaining to me how the world works”.

As for Idia… he absolutely tries not to think about it and to keep Sebek’s role in his life to a minimum. Even if they were to have sex, Idia probably puts the responsibility completely on Sebek, because it’s always him who initiates things. It’s not Idia’s fault that Sebek’s head is so far up his own ass that he doesn’t understand that he is just horny, and that Idia just happens to be an easy target because he is helpless against this beast. And yes, it doesn’t matter that Idia enjoys it too!

That being said, I think over time, if their relationship continued, Sebek would become calmer and would get used to Idia’s behaviour, at least on some level. He’d still get provoked by him, but he’d become more aware about it and even catch Idia’s intentions from time to time. After Idia’s next even worse remark he’d snap again lol But I do believe that despite this insurmountable obstacle Sebek can develop genuine feelings for Idia and they can get an actual working relationship, Sebek just needs more experience interacting with various people and becoming more open-minded, like Lilia wants him to be.

Anonymous asked:

headcanon that no one asked for, but I kind of love the idea that Idia has a thing for the reliable businessman type. Like, he may say that it doesn't matter who his internet friends are in real life, but he has still unconsciously built this image of Crimson Muscle as a serious older man with a job and a family, and sometimes he gets pretty worried about it. "He always takes the lead with no hesitation, does he have some important executive job irl? Wait, is he married? Agh, what am I saying, that's not something I should be worrying about... I'm his gaming buddy, not some kind of "other woman"! Oh, but he definitely has kids, hasn't he? Oh sevens... what if they are my age? If he finds out would he start treating me like I'm just a brat?". He can't decide if he likes the idea of a steamy romance with an older man (pull yourself together Idia, that'd never happen), or if he is just scared of losing one of his closest friends

I don’t even have much to add, Anon, you nailed it. I absolutely agree that this is the case for Idia. I don’t know why he is so drawn to this image of the older reliable businessman type man who is so experienced and so mature and serious and probably has his own life and family (and yet finds time to hang out with him!)… but he absolutely is. That silly boy.

Anonymous asked:

Do you think Mrs. Rosehearts would look exactly like Madam Red if she ever gets fully revealed?

Good question, both of them are doctors too, aren’t they?

I think Madam Red is too stylish for Mrs. Rosehearts, if that makes sense?? She is one bold woman, and Mrs. Rosehearts strikes me as someone who prefers very old-fashioned kind of look.

Victorian era Madam Red would somehow look more modern than Mrs. Rosehearts lol I also think she doesn’t wear lipstick.

Anonymous asked:

Hey Ryuichi, you probably heard of the Leech Mob theory. Apparently, it's hinted a few times that their parents are in the Mob. So i was wondering how do you picture their parents? As in personally and Appearance?

I enjoy reading how every fan pictures different versions of the Leech parents. I feel like Floyd is more like his dad, while Jade is more like his mom.

( Also, apparently, they have a grandma, too))

Yeah, it’s a pretty obvious thing! We really like that the Octa-boys have this yakuza/mafia motif, and the fact that whenever they talk about their family, it’s always kinda….ehhh... 😳 God how much I hope we’ll get to see their parents! AND THEIR GRANDMA TOO!

I made a rough sketch of how I picture them, but just like with the Ace’s brother sketch from the other day, the designs aren’t 100% concrete yet and we might change some stuff about them. Well, this time this isn’t even much of a design, just silhouettes lol But I think it’s still pretty easy to tell the overall vibe. The dad is freakishly massive and intimidating; the mom is very elegant but dangerous nonetheless.

Also, based on how they look, I guess I agree that Floyd is more like their dad and Jade is more like their mom lol

When it comes to their personalities, I think Papa Leech has this wild, scary and sadistic side that made him a legend in his own way, and he is chaotic in some ways, but he is also very disciplined and makes sure that everyone knows their place. He’s your typical mafia boss, the one which makes an entire room get silent as soon as he just walks in there. He is also a bit calmer now that he used to be + has a bit of a… silly? Side? He gets very into movies when he watches them, he talks to characters, yells at them, sobs when a dog dies, all this stuff. Sometimes he is a fun dad (although his idea of “fun” is sometimes scary), but he is the one who disciplines Jade and Floyd the most.

And Mama Leech is a huge worrywart, but only with her kids. With them she is dramatic and fussy, a bit overprotective, but it’s also not 100% obvious if she is genuinely worried about them or just completely messes with them. She kind of likes embarrassing her boys lol She is also a master of emotional manipulation and is much scarier and more powerful than she actually looks. She also prefers to make it seems like she is just a sweet obedient wife, but Papa Leech married her because of how deadly she actually is.

(don’t mind how sketchy the sketch is, it was a quick one)

[redheadspark]

this is from the grumpy and sunshine list- why don’t you give up on me like everyone else and you’re not gonna get rid of me that easily with azriel please! x

A/N - Awww this is sweet for Azriel! Thanks for the request, anon!

Lift

Summary - Azriel knows when you lift you when you're down.

Warnings - mostly angst with a hint of fluff

The silence in the room was a bit deafening as you heard the door opening and closing behind you, knowing fully well who it was thanks to your bond humming.  Of course, your hum was beyond happy that your mate was now in the room, though your spirit was less so.  The stress of work at the Community Center, almost losing some of your purchases that you made the day before thanks to mishandling when you were walking throughout the street, was all too much. You were rethinking the day over and over again, wondering where you went wrong and what you could have done to make it better.

But nothing was coming to mind, and you sighed in frustration.

“Bad day?” You heard a deep yet soothing tone, you said nothing at first as you were still looking at your lap, “Rhysand told me a little bit, but I wanna hear the rest from you,”

“Why?” You meekly asked, sniffling a bit as you had the overwhelming urge to cry on the spot.  How could your mate be so gentle when you were beyond angry with yourself?  When everything that could go wrong did go wrong, your emotions were all over the place, and all you wanted to do was hide under the sheets and help that it would all go away.  

“Because talking it out is the best way,” he reminded you soothingly as you heard him walking around the bed that you were perched on, finally having you feel his shadows lick against your skin to give you some sense of comfort, “Bottling it up is hard and not healthy,”

“I’ve done it so many times that sometimes….it’s the only thing I can do,” You admitted, another lick from his shadows along your arm as you felt a tear escape your eye and slide down your cheek, “Why do I let stuff get to me?”

“You have a massive heart, that’s why,” You looked over at your mate, Azriel, who smiled softly at you as one of his scarred fingers reached over to trace away the teardrop that was about to fall, then cupping your face gently, “But even those with the biggest hearts tend to be hard on themselves,”

You leaned into his hand as he kept his gaze on you with his hazel eyes, “I’m so used to dealing with this on my own for the longest time….and I don’t mean to shut you out---“

“I know,” He hummed, leaning over to kiss your cheek lovingly, “And you’re not,”

You both loved and hated how Azriel loved you with all his heart.  When you two found out you were mates it was awkward, to say the least since you two were merely acquaintances.  You were more uneasy with the notion of being mates with the Spymaster of Night Court, not to mention a Shadowsinger and one of the deadliest Illryians far and wide.  However, Azriel never minded being mated with you.  In fact, he was the optimistic one and took the bond wholeheartedly.  With plenty of work and dedication, you both became a fierce couple and deeply in love with one another.

But like all couples, you two had burdens and responsibilities that you carried. Azriel’s was more dangerous since he was a notorious spy and had to go out on missions constantly.  Not to mention, training new Illyrians at the camp, then going to plenty of meetings, and visiting other courts.  His plates were almost full on a daily basis, but Azriel made it a habit to not bring his work home to you and your small little home that was out in the countryside of Velaris.  

Your burdens were more deep, thanks to your troubled past and your brutal relationship with your father.  He was tough on you, making you feel so small and placing the notion of not being good enough in your mind.  The trauma followed you until your adult years, making you finally leave your childhood home and your father behind to find your new path in life.  The pain and uneasiness placed a rough callous over yourself, making you think that there was no way to be tender again.

Azriel seemed to be the one who broke away the callous and made your tender again.

“Is it wrong for me to wonder why don’t you give up on me like everyone else?” You asked in a mumble.  Azriel felt his heart break from the notion, wrapping you in his arms instantly as you nuzzled into him and breathed in his scent.  He knew of your past, how much pain you went through simply for being yourself and wishing to be the best version of yourself.  

Azriel hated your father for constantly making you feel useless and defeated, thanking his lucky stars that he never had the chance to meet the fae.  Azriel would have brought him pain for all he did to you, to use those unwarned notions in your mind to show him the night's true nightmares.  

Yet all Azriel had was you, and he was going to use all he could to bring you happiness.  

“You are far too kind and beautiful for anyone to give up on,” Azriel reminded you as his fingers rubbed your arms and shoulders, “I know you went through far too much for one person in their lifetime, and yet you’re still standing, right?”

“Right,” You mumbled into his shirt that he changed into.

“Don’t let those voices tell you otherwise,” Azriel explained, “Those voices are lies.  They mean nothing, not to the Inner Circle who consider you family,  not to Rhysand and Feyre who took you in when you came to Night Court and treated you like a family, and not to me as your mate and the love of your life.”

The tears were no longer falling, and a sense of warmth was now blooming in your chest from hearing those words that Azriel was saying to you.  He knew just what to do when you felt like you were at your lowest, knowing just how to lift you back on your feet with ease.  

“You’re not gonna get rid of me that easily,” Azriel hummed into your hair as he pressed a soothing kiss along your skin, “Not now, not ever.  I’m not saying that because we’re mates, I’m saying it because I love you,”

You kissed his chest, not needing to say more since you knew deep inside that he was telling the truth.  Azriel always reassured you that he loved you not just because of the mating bond you two had.  As time went on, you both grew as lovers and as a couple, not wishing to rely solely on your bond to make your relationship work.  You were companions and friends, leaning on each other through thick and thin. Of course, this was one small moment of sadness for you.

Small compared to the constant happiness and joy you felt when you had your mate at your side. 

The End.

[stuckinapril]

hey cianna!! love to me anon here (i don’t know if you still remember me, but here’s to hoping!), and i wanted to ask. how do you know when you’re absolutely done. like, i’ve given everything i ever had to everyone i’ve ever met and it’s still not enough.. but. there’s always a “but” to my mindset and words, and even though i’ve tried to fix it over the past few months, it’s just not working. i don’t know what else to do nor fix anymore

I’m done when I see that the person is willing to put 0 effort into trying and nothing will change. I’m done when I realize that the person has checked out of a relationship (romantic or platonic) and at this point I’m chasing breadcrumbs just to feel like they really care. I’m done when I see they refuse to communicate about the problem. I’m done when all the sweet memories I have w them are from a long time ago rather than recent, meaning I’m clinging on to a version of them that no longer exists.

Have you asked yourself just why you’re willing to extend so much grace to people? I feel like it’s easy to say “bc I’m just patient” “I’m attached to them” etc etc but I have had this issue before, and on digging deeper I realized a big part of it was bc of the scarcity mindset. I was scared that I would not find any better if I were to cut them off, or I was attached to a version of them that no longer existed, or dysfunction was all I knew and I literally could not even conceive the idea of more healthy, more dynamic friendships. I’m not saying that you should liberally cut off anyone you don’t 100% mesh with, but you should really uproot the reasons as to why you’re okay with disrespecting your own boundaries over and over for people who’re not even willing to return the effort. For me it boiled down to insecurity.

To reiterate, I’m not saying you have to dramatically cut them off or anything. This really depends on a case to case basis. But at the very least, dedicate less of your time to those who drain your energy and more to those who nourish it. You will be so much happier for it.

[kitttenteeth]

:,( vampy I was worried about you! Glitter angel <///////3 not to sound parasocial but things do feel rlly dull whenever you do your stray kitty thing. Always thinking about you, I hope you know you were missed! And hoping life has sweetened for you and that you were able to get that procedure for your bunny :( You’ve always been the sweetest girl to me and I know things started getting rlly hard, you are something so special and unique so pleaseeeee do not let this world take any of that sparkle from you. Idk why I am shy too shy send this off anon but I’m hoping any of this strikes some familiarity in you lol, message me if you ever need to talk! Love you kitty

;-; too sweet 4 me not to respond to rly quickly . Thank you so much! i feel too shy & very sugary over this lol, thank u ^^ My brownbunnie ended up not needing the botfly removal &she Is okay, i feel so blessed abt that. I am okay! my life has been feeling incredibly frustrating ! But all is okay. this msg means a lot & I feel inspired to vent. pretend we r all squished on the countertop 2Gether like we used to , when I was miss blogger. i’ve been In limbo with my living arrangement for nearly half a year + My family situation is . if I am speaking sweetly I would use the word disheartening lol + Mostly most of all When things go wrong with my animals There Is just genuinely no way of coping 4 me . i am so blessed that all the animals I take care of are currently healthy But a few scares happened + i became responsible for even MORE!! animals which ;-; isn’t necessarily where the issue lies . Ohh boo Trying not 2 ramble much but :

I have been taking care of animals truly as soon as i could start walking lol , my dad has always owned all sorts of farm animals & etc. And as a kid I took on a lot of that responsibility so it’s always been my life &very willingly so , It’s what makes me happiest [<- this is to explain I am confident in my care , It is so most definitely the thing i am best at / most proud of myself about. i feel strange sort of bragging abt it I guess but if it is true . Then YK i rly feel like i am allowed to lol! i do anything 4 animals I’m responsible for and I am rly proud of the amt of time &dedication & especially physical work I put into making sure they r all healthy and as happy as possible] flipside : I am aware it is a problem and all my life I have been told / attempted 2 work on it But anything happening to my animals has always been totally unsurvivable for me almost. it is , idk. It is rly distressing for every1 to see what happens to me ig And especially to hear the sorts of thoughts i have. So rambly ALL OF THIS TO SAY - i feel my dad Is irresponsible with the way he takes care of his animals So i have taken ~all~ of it up myself but with the limited resources i can afford + energy i have lost bcus I have been unwell for a while, i am rlyly frustrated with the circumstances and so badly at myself for not being able to give all these animals the type of care they deserve . If my love was enough Then they’d all be living in their own slice of heaven with heated blankets and heart - shaped ice cubes in their water containers but. :[ I have been doing the best i can with what I have the money for but this totally by far has been tenthousand bullets to my psyche And how can i blog when everyday i am crying abt my animals or digging the dirt out from my fingernails &cleaning outside until a snotbubble is frozen to my face . I just wish every animal in the world was okay lol . anyways. I love u! iknow who you r silly I will dm you soon <🐾3

[tomorrowxtogether]

TAEHYUN: “I think once you’ve felt your fans’ presence it’s impossible not to work hard”

TOMORROW X TOGETHER The Name Chapter: TEMPTATION comeback interview

2023.02.09

Affection, a sense of purpose, MOA, the members—these are what keep TAEHYUN moving forward tirelessly down an endless road.

I saw the “indoor lighting” picture you uploaded on Weverse. Looks like you’re working out a lot. (laughs)

TAEHYUN: There are few places you can see progress faster than you would expect, but that’s one of the perks of working out. I keep at it because I feel a sense of responsibility to become a perfect model for when I do commercials or other photoshoots so it’s a habit now. Now I sing and dance so much that it’s a form of insane cardio so I only work out enough to make up for losing my muscles.

You also work out with your Eonbuk Homies.

TAEHYUN: They came to Yongsan to meet me just yesterday. Only a few of the six of us were close at first. It started as maybe three of us from second year of high school calling ourselves the Eonbuk Homies and we added more and more people until we ended up with six. That was back when I debuted and my friends were preparing for the university entrance exam. We learned to rely on each other during that time because it was the hardest time of our lives. They knew me before I started down this career path, and when I was a trainee, and once I became an artist. They understand and respect all aspects of me.

Most of the people in the Eonbuk Homies were born in 2002, so people must bring the 2022 World Cup up to you a lot. What did you think of the recent World Cup in Qatar?

TAEHYUN: I loved that Korea made it to the round of 16 and I applauded the other Asian countries for putting on great performances, too. I watched the finals with the Eonbuk Homies and we were really rooting for Messi. Seeing France and Argentina go to the finals and then Argentina winning was really … (laughs) There will be a lot of naysaying if there is a TV show with such a storyline.

You wrote an overview of each game on Weverse, too.

TAEHYUN: Weverse is fun and I have a habit of showing up there, and I show up there even more often because I think it’s healthy to have a two-way relationship with MOA.

I can tell you’re dedicated by the way you say you “show up” to Weverse. You also posted a demo version of a song you wrote called “Ring” on there.

TAEHYUN: After watching the movie We Made a Beautiful Bouquet, I could really relate to lyrics like, “One day [we] meet and love each other like that,” and, “Probably because reality will get between us.” The movie’s about how the love is as beautiful as a bouquet at first but it eventually wilts—and there’s nothing dreamy about that at all. I thought there’s probably a lot of couples who break up over realistic and unavoidable reasons and I wrote that into the lyrics. I actually think that the love pretty much everyone has is meant to be. (laughs) That’s why the demo version was a love song. The album was about breakups, so the song was reimagined as a breakup song.

Did you write the lyrics in Japanese?

TAEHYUN: I write the lines I can in Japanese and get them checked by my Japanese teacher. I say something like, “I’m going to use these as lyrics. Does any of it sound awkward?”

How are you so good at English and Japanese? (laughs)

TAEHYUN: Well, I’m a sports fan and a music fan, so I think I got better from looking up a lot of interviews with athletes and artists. And I’m good at my mother tongue! (laughs) I think you have to be good at your first language in order to be good at a second one. I think I have an advantage there because I love to talk in Korean, even. I work hard at it because I want to talk using my own words.

And you sang in Indonesia and the Philippines in the local languages at your concerts.

TAEHYUN: Even though overseas MOA can’t really see us like in Korea unless we’re on tour, they still show us so much love, so we wanted to give them something special. I figured that, even though we can’t visit there that often, our sincerity would come across more if we sang in the languages of those countries.

You were getting ready for your year-end performances even while on your world tour. What was that like?

TAEHYUN: I was quarantined in Korea because of COVID-19 while the other members went to Chile, so I practiced the choreography alone first before reuniting with the group, then we rented a practice studio while staying in the US. We always started early and finished late so we would have more time to practice. I was worried whether we could do a good enough job considering how hard the first version looked and how little time we had but after we gave up our vacation time and practiced really hard it slowly started to come together. So when the performance was done, I thought about how it always seemed like it wasn’t going to be good but then it was, and also how proud and lucky I was to have the other members. But on the other hand, I wondered if they keep giving us hard stuff because we manage to do it every time. (laughs)

Wasn’t it tough practicing?

TAEHYUN: I was desperate. I felt sorry because there were all those MOA waiting for us ever since we dropped our album in early 2022 and I was desperate for an opportunity to show that we’re different now and could put on a good show.

What exactly did you want to show them?

TAEHYUN: That we can fill a stage, just the five of us. That we’re still good no matter which one of us is center stage. That we’re good at performing live.

And what about you personally?

TAEHYUN: Doing things the way I was taught, properly, is both a strength of mine and a weakness. I’m really used to doing group dances, but I think I still need some studying and to sharpen my skills for when I have to do a part alone. So I thought I need to bring up my quality level to be on par with someone like YEONJUN who has natural talent. I thought that would put him at ease. Recently, YEONJUN did “Lonely Boy (The tattoo on my ring finger)” and the four of us did a performance, and when it was all done, YEONJUN said he was never worried about us even from the start—that when he saw us perform, he thought we looked cool and everything would work out. Then he said he didn’t tell us we were doing a good job while practicing because he thought we’d be even better if he didn’t say anything. I thought we managed to take off some of his burden because he could at least take a short break while we were performing.

Is it true that you personally approached the BTS members for advice when you were doing a cover of “DNA” for 2022 SBS Gayo Daejeon?

TAEHYUN: I’ve been talking with Hobi since a while back, and the best part of being with the same label as people at that level is that you can get their advice. I grabbed each of them to ask them about “DNA” and they all said the same surprising thing: “Try relaxing a bit and you’ll look cooler.” So I passed that on to the other members, too. But it’s BTS’s song and when all those people are watching you, it’s not quite as easy to relax as you might think. (laughs)

Why is it you put your all into each and every performance?

TAEHYUN: There’s going to be people who are passionate and people who aren’t no matter what field you’re in. We decided upfront to be serious about it. All of us agreed that people would be able to understand that if they can see how full of grit we are. I’ve been in this field for years and the people who work hard really stand out. So we said we’re going to be those kinds of people no matter how many years we’re at it and hold onto our grit.

You revealed a bit of “Sugar Rush Ride” at the 2022 Melon Music Awards. Unlike your usual uplifting vocals, you sang in a seductive and sexy voice.

TAEHYUN: Everyone has their strengths—some people are best suited to uplifting music, others sing like angels, and then there’s people who sing really deep and soulful. I like to sing songs in a really clear voice no matter what. But you have to sing that song a little rough to make it really work. There’s a lot of parts that require singing sexily and a little over the top, and those were the parts I had to focus on bringing to life.

How do you manage to bring out a different style in every song?

TAEHYUN: I’m actively involved in the direction when I record vocals. I usually tell the recording engineer, “I’ll do that part again,” or make a part and record while talking it over with the producer. I think I should play it safe and dance the way I’m taught by the experts for now, but I’m more involved when it comes to singing lately because I work on songs too and have started to be able to see the big picture of how it’s going to turn out.

Were any of the songs changed to incorporate your ideas?

TAEHYUN: I changed how I express the lines in “Farewell, Neverland” from the demo version and it turned out great. We have a six-person group chat with Producer Bang and he sent us a message saying he was amazed how the recording turned out so well. I said, “Thank you. But didn’t you think ‘Tinnitus (Wanna be a rock)’ sounds really good, too?” (laughs)

You’re in the credits for “Tinnitus,” right? (laughs) It takes guts to put your ideas out there like that, doesn’t it?

TAEHYUN: One good thing about the producers we work with and all the people at BIGHIT MUSIC is that they’re open-minded so there’s no issues when giving them ideas. When I toss out an idea, it’s backed up by how hard I’ve worked to come this far, so one reason I work as hard as I do is so I can give my thoughts on things. It's like I’m taking one major, this one thing I’m really good at, but I believe I can double major with something else if I try really hard.

I think effort is one of the best talents a person can have. (laughs)

TAEHYUN: I used to think I wasn’t born with any, but now I think I was born with a strong will toward effort. It turns out it was a talent all along. It’s actually a talent to be able to put in the effort without much motivation.

You sing about arrested development on the latest album, but you seem to aspire toward growth more than anyone else.

TAEHYUN: I want to grow any way I can because growing means I’m alive and it’s how I demonstrate my identity. Putting on way better performances and singing good songs come first. All five of us make songs and I aspire to make good music. Being a good person is important, too. It's important to behave like artists, too, but this is a job where we work with other people, so it’s also important that the work is fun and nobody gets their feelings hurt so that the staff will feel affection for the whole team.

Have you never wanted to put your development on hold and give into temptation?

TAEHYUN: So many times. (laughs) But I never really give into temptation, no matter how tempting it is. There’s temptation constantly: today, yesterday, the day before that—every day. I think about sleeping more, taking a longer break, going home without practicing—but I realize I’m practicing anyway. I’m always practicing so I can improve myself musically, but sometimes it feels like an endless road because there’s no perfect solutions like in math.

But what is it that keeps you moving forward?

TAEHYUN: Affection’s first. I’m still in love with singing and dancing. Second’s my sense of purpose and third is MOA. I think, once you’ve felt your fans’ presence—once you’ve seen your fans singing along in concert—it’s impossible not to work hard. And I think that leads to a sense of purpose in the end. Fourth are the other members. If I work hard, I think it’s helpful to the group and to the other members.

What you’re saying seems to be reflected in “Happy Fools” (feat. Coi Leray).

TAEHYUN: I think it is an unbelievable blessing if you’re doing the work that you want to do. I also experienced a clash between things I want to do and things I have to do and I’ve ended up doing the things I have to do. There is a line that I wrote that goes, “There’s so many things to do but I don’t wanna do them.” There are also lyrics like  “People say the future’s always more important than now,” “Locked in a sweet moment,” and, “Every day’s so happy.” The most memorable line for me is the “People say the future’s always more important than now.”

Why’s that?

TAEHYUN: Everyone’s thoughts are future-oriented, right? It’s actually more fun and happier if you don’t study right now but grown ups tell you to study for the future. Would the happiness of the future or tomorrow be more valuable than the happiness of today? I don’t think so. That’s why I wrote “People say the future’s always more important than now, but I’m not planning on doing it.” But I’m the type that doesn't practice what I preach because I’ll still be studying. (laughs)

You helped write the lyrics to “Tinnitus (Wanna be a rock).”

TAEHYUN: It’s my favorite song of the album and when I first heard the theme I was like “this is insane.” Everyone is bound to meet a hurdle. Let’s say if I’m doing rock, then I will someday bump against this doubt that I will never become like Nirvana or AC/DC. That is why I talked about how I would rather become a rock and do nothing than be a star that feels empty and even hears tinnitus when the fun’s over.

What’s the meaning behind the lyrics you wrote?

TAEHYUN: “Rockstar minus star, just a rock, ok?” is just a pun. (laughs) There’s a line that goes, “I don’t have that kind of talent or deep backstory,” and I think those lyrics are relatable for many people, but I think the key point of that line is the “deep backstory.” Groundbreaking artists like Kurt Cobain, Eminem and Justin Bieber struggled along or have start-from-the-bottom stories, but I really don’t have anything like that. (laughs) So I thought it would be fun to be honest and sing about how I’m not as gifted as them and don’t have their backstories.

I don’t think you’d be satisfied being “just a rock” though.

TAEHYUN: We sing about not having the potential to become rock stars in “Tinnitus,” so I thought it would be fun to write a song later called something like “We’re Rock Stars Now” if we do become groundbreaking artists. There was a time when I struggled with that and wanted to be a rock, but, no—I’m gonna be a rock star. I’m a rock star.

[avisafterall]

made this blog for my writing, but i don't yet have anything shareable for the book i'm working on now... so (beside this being a call to the void to connect with other writers on tumblr hi hello) i thought i'd share an old story with OLD versions of some of the wayfarers characters!

this is back from one of the first iterations of their story - a more superhero-esque universe, where a small percentage of kids born after a certain year were born with innate Gifts (powers) that ranged from simple enhancements, like a perfect memory, to dramatic physiological alterations, like turning into shadows - these Gifts are taxonomized in levels, with Level 5 being the mundane and 1 the extraordinary, guidelines permitting. this is not a super unique premise, but it's one i always eat tf up because who doesn't love cool powers c'mon

this particular story features lolha, back when she was a level 4 (psionic) with Empathic Insight before I changed her to being a Level 0 (unidentified, ooooh), and fitz, a level 1 (enhancement) with Enhanced Dexterity. of course, these labels mean nothing to their characters as they exist in Wayfarers (a realistic, no-magic adventure saga), but it still carries my idea of who they are and how they engage with their identities.

fitz and lolha have always been a tough duo for me to nail down. they're very similar in that they're stubborn, outspoken ride-or-dies, but very different in how they approach the world - lolha, with dedication, rigor, and a healthy dose of rule-breaking, and fitz with a lackadaisical optimism that forms the protective exoskeleton of a rather unforthcoming character. they're besties, they're worsties, they're found family, they would die for each other and they're always at each other's throats.

regardless, fitz is a FUN character for me because she is SO chatty but says so little about herself, down to the ultimate reservation of never sharing her first name. in this story, i ignored my better judgement and any sense of storytelling for the greater narrative to brainstorm a scenario in which lolha's power - empathic insight, a sort of divination or mind reading via others' feelings - works differently than how she interprets and reveals a snippet of a very buried memory. hehe!

She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. 

The rain is warm on her face but sharp, falling in sheets that slice through the dense treetop overhead. 

Her heart races in her chest, blood rushing through her ears and branches snapping underfoot. The forest doesn’t have a footpath, and frustration wells up inside her, stuck in her throat with all the cries she’s swallowed since she first started running. Thunder and pounding footsteps and the acrid burn of fear are overwhelming, clawing at her senses as soon as she’s gathered them, but just like every other time she’s ended up in this nightmare, they’re never the first thing she focuses on.

“My hands are bleeding,” she tells Mischell, her voice wavering. “They’re wrapped up, and- I must have hurt them again on my way out.” 

The bandages were white once, she knows that much. She has a faint memory of gentle touches at her wrists, the ghost of concern pulling gauze across scored hands, pain ebbing away under the touch. She can see pristine fibers peeking through even now, but they’re scarce between grime and blooming stains of deep red. The skin beneath the wraps is aflame. Whatever recovery her palms had made has been ripped open in her escape. Despite every other pressing concern, this fact alone is enough to make her eyes prick with tears.  

“Your way out?” Mischell repeats.

“Out. I’m leaving. Today’s the only chance I’ll have in a long time, I think, and I can’t wait until the next.” 

“I see.” Pen against paper pierces the forest for a split second. “Why today?” 

Thunder cracks overhead, and she looks to the canopy, squinting as the rain falls harder. “It’s a storm. The biggest one we’ve had in years. Everyone was talking about it, how they’re scared it’ll tear a house down or something. No one is going to follow me out here- they might even think I’m dead. They might never look for me again.”

“But they may be looking now.” She flinches against the rain. Her racing step has paused, but his words light urgency in her chest once more. “Have you considered that you might die, if the storm is so bad?”

And urgency flickers out, just for a second. “I’ll still have gotten out.”

-- 

Seren is silent when she visits them next. 

“We’re almost done,” Lolha says finally. The park is the only one on school grounds, near the edge of the campus and cut off by thick woods. There’s a single park bench they sit on to meet with Seren, dressed in identical uniforms, save for Fitz’s gloves. Seren, perched on the edge of the bench, the toes of her shoes poised in the mulch to sprint, just nods. 

“It’s taking us longer than we expected.” Lolha clears her throat. “But we’ve got a plan. We’ll need to do it soon- do you know when you can get away?” 

Seren’s eyes are locked on the main school building. “I’m not sure.” 

Fitz sends a short glance at the same time Lolha grits her teeth. 

“Well- actually…” Seren straightens up, her eyes flickering to the sky. “Actually, there’s a storm coming.”

Fitz’s glance is longer this time. “A storm,” she repeats. 

“I think. One of the girls is- her Gift is something to do with storms or rain, I don’t know, and they have her on lockdown for the next week. I heard some Track Two girls talking about it.”

The memory of rain and blood mingling on her palms sends a shudder down Lolha’s spine. 

 --

“I’m wearing pants.” 

She doesn’t need to open her eyes to know Mischell tilts his head. “Important details, Lolha. Focus on what’s driving-“

”It is important.” 

Mischell goes silent, the scratch of pen paused.  

“I don’t usually wear them,” she explains, breathless, and in her mind’s eye she spares a moment to feel the waistline, fingering the rough belt around her middle. “They don’t fit me quite right. They’re big, and I- I tied them with rope. I couldn’t run in the skirt.” 

Furious scribbles cut through the downpour in her ears, Mischell taking down notes faster than she can finish them. Her clothes are soaked through, clinging to her skin, slick against the burlap pack pressed to her back, but the urge to peel the cloth away as she idles is overrun the instant she hears rustling behind her. It’s quiet - everything is muffled in the downpour - but hot, prickling fear crawls up her throat. 

“Someone is out here,” she whispers. “Someone is looking for me.” 

“Who?” 

“I don’t know.” But she does. Somewhere deep inside the memory is a name, a face. She searches for it in the gaps between trees, eyes flitting wildly, chest heaving, and prays she won’t find the answer. That she won’t fall prey to whatever is hunting her. “It’s a man. Older, I think.” 

“Your father?” 

She turns the word over in her head, but before she can answer, another step rings out behind her, and she’s sprinting again without a second thought. 

The rustles behind her turn to thuds, crashes against the ground that echo in her ears between her racing heart. 

“Lolha,” Mischell’s voice cuts through, calm, even. He’s at ease beyond the forest and frustration bubbles up in her chest, a scream lodged in her throat, help me or get out of my way. “What’s happening? Who is it?” 

“He’s behind me,” she grits out, “chasing. He’ll- if he catches me-” 

“How close is he?” 

She strains her ears, swallowing panic to focus on the rapid footfall approaching, and a shard of something almost hopeful settles inside her. “Close,” she says, “but I’m quick, much quicker than him, and steady.” 

Mischell is silent. When he speaks again, what feels like hours later, his voice is hushed. “Steady?”

Her hands are trembling in her lap, bleeding heavier in her mind, but her voice is even. She takes a deep breath and sees the forest floor is a blur underfoot. 

“I’m bleeding. There’s things in the way- rocks, and roots.” She swallows fear down, breathes out her one victory. “But I never trip. Not once.” 

--

Rolling stormclouds are gathering in the sky above them. Fitz glances up at them every so often, her eyebrows furrowed together. 

“She should be out by now.” That furrowed look turns to Lolha. “She said she’d be out here by now to meet us. We told her the right building, didn’t we?”

“The fieldhouse,” Fitz confirms, turning back to face the forest and crossing her arms. There’s nothing between the trees - no chase scene yet, even as Lolha searches for racing shadows and listens for running in the leaves - but Fitz stares silently at the woods, her eyes unreadable. It’s hard to tell if she’s worried or bored. Sometimes it seems they’re one in the same for her. 

Lolha’s attention is pulled away from her blank stare as thunder cracks in the distance. Wind carries the smell of rain to their rendezvous, and dread wells up in her stomach as she looks around, squinting at the school’s entrances in the distance. The twinge of fear flickers brighter with a flash of lightning - Seren is nowhere to be seen.

“Maybe she’s not coming,” Fitz says.

She doesn’t look away from the forest when Lolha glances over. “What?” 

“Maybe she decided not to leave and we’re waiting here for nothing.”

“She didn’t-” Lolha forces a deep breath. Another wave of twitchy something washes over her, fear and panic mingling in her chest, constricting. It’s unpleasant and growing stronger, but she prays that it means Seren is on her way. “Why would she not come?”

Fitz just shrugs. She’s still staring at the forest, and Lolha wants to grab her by the shoulders and shake urgency into her. 

“It’s a stressful thing to do,” Lolha snaps, and Fitz’s gaze flickers to hers, eyes flashing. “It doesn’t mean she bailed.” 

Movement dances in the treeline. Fitz’s mouth snap shuts before she can retort, eyes torn to the woods as quickly as Lolha’s. Buzzing silence settles between them as they both go still, watching the gap in the trees, waiting, when the storm siren starts to wail from beyond the forest. 

Lolha tears her eyes away as she catches motion in her periphery. She looks over, down, and the prickling dread in her chest stalls. Fitz’s hands are shaking.

--

The fear before had been suffocating, tight like a vise around her heart and crawling up her throat; each breath was a desperate struggle, cries nonexistent. That fear feels kind beside this one. 

Panic encompasses her, spreading to every end of her body, crackling in her fingertips and pounding through her footsteps, and her heart is beating so fast that her chest feels empty as her lungs. She doesn’t dare stop for a breath - she knows if she pauses for even a second, her chance will be gone. Rain bleeds into her eyes and muffles the sounds behind her. She hopes - and hope is just as painful as the fear, sharp enough to pierce through the haze of escape - that the storm muffles her footsteps, too. 

The backpack thumps painfully against her spine, but now she knows it’s less of a backpack and more of a satchel she’s wound around her torso, crossing the strap over her shoulders and waist to keep it against her back. It’s not her bag; somehow, that bothers her most, a worm of guilt gnawing away even as she sprints through the trees with heavier things at hand. A name flickers in her head with the gnawing. It disappears before she can grab it, drowned out by the sound of twigs snapping in front of her. 

She skids to a stop. She knows this scene - the man will be there, waiting, smug and seething, and only moments later, he will be writhing on the ground, blood pouring from a mutilated socket. The fear of confrontation has twisted now, though. At last she identifies the prick in the back of her mind from before: it’s anger, a burning thing that sears her thoughts, cauterizing the panic for just a moment as she claws for the dagger tucked into her makeshift belt. 

It’s not a dagger now, but a sharpened kitchen knife, and the weathered handle is comfortable in her bandaged hands. She grips it tighter.

The battle is how she remembers for the most part, though she feels shock course through her body with anger when the knife is in his hands, knicking her face as she kicks from under him. She lands a knee to his stomach and he doubles over; the knife is in her hands and swiftly in his eye. The spray of his blood is warm and sticky across her face. Just like the first time she was thrust into this sequence, she suppresses a gag, knowing now that escape is more urgent than disgust. She kicks again, and he topples over, grotesque and bleeding on the wet earth. She’s up and running before his screaming can reach her ears. 

The forest is a blur underneath her feet, and it’s only then that she realizes where her mistake has been. Her sprint is not a feat of speed; she’s quick, yes, but she can feel her body protesting the unfamiliar endeavor beneath the high of adrenaline. What is truly natural is her balance. She doesn’t need to look at the forest floor as she runs; she knows, despite the fear and speed and lack of a true destination, that she can correct any stumble before it ruins her. Her muscles scream, but she’s in perfect control of them. 

And as she reaches the end of a stretch of wood - the first time she’s ever seen where the trees taper off, the first time she’s free - she is no longer her. She is no longer Lolha playing an unwitting lead role. She pulls away at last, and she sees a flash of red hair.

Blood pours from Fitz’s brow where the knife caught her face, spattered across her nose and cheeks from the man’s mangled eye. She’s older than Lolha expected; she barely looks different than they know her now, just more gaunt, disjointed in the unfamiliar clothing and glaring fear on her face. Her eyes are wide and wild as she stares at the clearing in front of her - her bandaged hands and high-necked blouse are mottled with dirt and blood, and she glances down at them once, shaking, before she sets off in another sprint toward the long stretch of road in the distance. 

Lolha watches from the edge of the forest as she disappears into the storm. Footsteps pound closer behind her, and as her grip on the memory fades, her mind returning to her own present, she hears at last what the voice has been screaming after her. 

[spoiler ;)]

[misscorn]

Day 4 - Stress/Relaxation

Decided to take some inspiration from my real life for the last bit of this entry for @sihjrweek lol enjoy

-

Takano Masamune was trekking back with Onodera Ritsu to his - their apartment after what felt like a particularly long day at work. The two of them were discussing anything work-related that couldn’t wait until tomorrow as they stepped off the elevator. After Ritsu had confessed (and moved in, which had happened pretty soon after due to Masamune’s insistence) there had been a rule set in place about work-talk at home. 

Masamune was a bit of a workaholic, but Ritsu was definitely a million times worse and if they were going to be able to function at all - not only as a couple that worked together, but as healthy adults - then they needed to limit work at home as much as possible. They both agreed that sometimes it was unavoidable - or that there were unexpected emergencies due to pop up - but their time together at home should not be overwhelmingly dedicated to stressing over work matters. 

“One more thing,” Masamune said as he started to take out his keys. “Your most recent proposal? I’m gonna need you to scrap it and start over.” He unlocked the door and pushed it open, stepping inside. 

“What?” Ritsu followed him hurriedly. “Are you insane? I’ve been periodically checking in with you while I was working on it so I could avoid this kind of thing, why do you want me to start over now?!” 

“We’re home, which means we only talk about work if it’s an emergency.” Masamune said, effectively infuriating Ritsu as he casually toed off his shoes and started to take off his coat. 

“You don’t just get to drop that on me at the front door and then say we can’t talk about it!” Ritsu said, hurriedly taking off his own coat and hanging it up. “Why do I need to start over? Why didn’t you say something sooner?” He asked, his blood pressure rising higher and higher. Ritsu was beginning to consider demoting Masamune from ‘boyfriend’ to simply ‘primary stressor’. 

“It’s your fault.” Masamune said. “When I’m talking to you about things it's easy to get on board because you’re so excited and cute and earnest. So it takes me a second to realize when it’s a bad idea.” 

“I’m going to kill you.” Ritsu decided. “This is it, this is the final straw for us, I’m going to kill you.” 

“Okay. Take your best shot.” Masamune replied, obviously not at all threatened as he stood and faced his boyfriend, waiting for Ritsu to make a move. 

Ritsu got in his face, hands on his hips with a sneer curling on his lip. “You are completely infuriating. I can’t stand you at all.” It’s moments like this that I wished I still had my own apartment! Ritsu thought, but even in his fury he thought that might be a little too mean to say. “And how dare you say it’s my fault?! I was doing what I was supposed to do, I was using you as a resource like you always tell me to do! It is not my fault you can’t look at me for two seconds and maintain any kind of professionalism at the same time. Not to mention you dropping this news on me right before we got inside, as if that was going to save you from me being absolutely pissed for the rest of the night, you can’t possibly be stupid enough to think that was going to work!”

“Are we about to kiss?”

The question stunned Ritsu into a momentary silence, but it did force him to recognize just how close he was standing to Masamune during his entire rant. 

“No, we are not about to kiss, you idiot!” Ritsu exclaimed before storming past him. 

“Are you really gonna be mad at me all night?” Masamune asked as he followed close behind. 

“No, I’m gonna be mad at you all week.” Ritsu corrected. “Now leave me alone, I need to start rethinking my entire proposal.” He added snippily, sitting down on their living room couch and taking his laptop out. 

Masamune sat beside him and leaned heavily against him, resting his head on Ritsu’s shoulder. 

“Get the hell off me, you’re about to crush me.” Ritsu complained, trying to push him off. 

Masamune just became total deadweight against him. “No. Not until you kiss me.”

Ritsu groaned. “Fine, make yourself comfortable I guess.” He said stubbornly, opening his laptop and attempting to get to work even with the extra weight pressing against him. 

Masamune shut the lid to the laptop before grabbing it and holding it. “No more work, we’re at home.”

“Masamune,” Ritsu said, exasperated. “You can’t drop a bunch of extra work on me and then expect me not to do it!”

“It can wait until tomorrow.” Masamune insisted, holding Ritsu’s laptop away from him as he attempted to reach for it. “Plus, you can’t say my name like that and then expect me to give this back to you.” He added, smirking suggestively.

“Like what? Angrily?” 

“Yeah.”

“There is something wrong with you. Several things, in fact.” Ritsu said. 

“And you love me, so what does that say about you?” Masamune asked. 

“Give me my laptop back.”

“Give me a kiss.”

“You’re so infuriating.”

“You knew that before you moved in with me.”

“Well, maybe I’ll move back out.” Ritsu said, knowing the threat was totally empty.

“Then who would annoy you every day?”

Ritsu rolled his eyes. “No one, that’s the whole point.”

“Sounds boring.” Masamune sighed. “You’d start missing me right away.”

Ritsu just huffed, not willing to disagree with that statement because he knew it would inevitably end with him admitting that he would in fact start missing Masamune. Ritsu was angry with Masamune right now, he couldn’t go around doing or saying anything that would result in boosting his ego. 

“Fine. I’ll wait till tomorrow to work.” Ritsu said through gritted teeth. “But if you know what’s good for your health, you’ll leave me alone and let me relax for a little bit.” He added before retreating into their bedroom. He took a few deep breaths as he looked through their shared bookcase. He decided to grab an easy and reliable read, pulling out a well worn and loved book he had visited several times before sitting on their bed and opening it. 

Ritsu flipped through the first few pages, feeling the tension slowly leave his body as he read the opening of the novel. However, this brief moment of relief only lasted so long as Masamune soon stood in the doorway of their bedroom. 

He really doesn’t know when to give up, Ritsu thought, holding back the urge to groan. You know what? I’m just going to ignore him. Maybe he’ll get bored and leave me alone if I do, Ritsu thought. 

“What are you reading?” Masamune asked.

Ritsu didn’t answer, he just continued to pay attention to his book. Or, at the very least, he gave the appearance of paying attention to his book. It was difficult to actually concentrate on reading with Masamune staring at him and now approaching the bed. 

“That book looks like it’s ready to fall apart. I thought you took better care of them than that.” Masamune said as he sat beside Ritsu. Ritsu knew that Masamune was just attempting to get a reaction out of him. Ritsu - for once - wasn’t going to give it to him, he just quietly turned a page. 

“You must really like this one. How many times have you read it?” Masamune asked. “Do you think I would like it? Should I read it?”

He’s trying to change tactics, Ritsu thought. Since annoying Ritsu hadn’t garnered any desired results, now Masamune was trying to get Ritsu to engage with him by offering to talk about a topic Ritsu was invested in and excited about. It’s not going to work, Ritsu thought stubbornly. 

“You’re not really going to ignore me for the rest of the night, are you?” Masamune asked.

The only response was the sound of the pages turning once more. 

Masamune let out a sigh and for a second Ritsu thought he might be on the verge of giving up, but then Masamune opened his big mouth once more:

“You wanna fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid.”

Ritsu’s head snapped up at that to look at Masamune, face burning red and his expression contorting into an instinctive scowl. He opened his mouth to yell at Masamune for being such a horny idiot-

“Now are we gonna kiss?” Masamune asked, leaning in just a bit, making Ritsu realize just how close Masamune had sat next to him, their foreheads now touching. 

“No!” Ritsu leaned away and bonked him on the head, making Masamune let out a quiet ‘ow’. 

“Okay, then when are we gonna kiss?” Masamune huffed.

Ritsu took a deep breath so that he wouldn’t hit Masamune with his book and risk damaging the novel. 

“We can kiss when my proposal is finished.” Ritsu said after a moment of careful consideration. 

Masamune scowled, not liking that answer at all. “Hell no, I’m not waiting that long.” 

“I won’t be able to enjoy kissing you while I’m stressing about it, so it’s just going to have to wait.” Ritsu said simply, attempting to go back to reading his book. 

“Then what are you doing laying around here and reading? You should work on it.” Masamune said. 

“No. We’re limiting work at home when we can, remember?” Ritsu said, deciding to get even cozier and put his legs under the blanket. “If you’re not going to be quiet and let me read then go away.” 

Masamune groaned miserably, laying his head in Ritsu’s lap and trying to stare up at him, but the book blocked his view. 

“Don’t do this to me, Ritsu.”

Ritsu went back to not responding. 

“It's not like I want you to start the proposal over for my own sick amusement.” Masamune continued.

Ritsu read silently. 

“I love you.” Masamune tried.

Ritsu let out a sigh at that before one of his hands reached down to briefly run his fingers through Masamune’s hair, but he still didn’t reply. Masamune thought he might be satisfied with the affectionate touch, but it didn’t even last as Ritsu went back to holding his book with both hands.

“How long do you think redoing the proposal will take you?” Masamune asked. 

Ritsu did not answer.

Masamune had a terrible feeling that he’d be going kissless for longer than he could handle.

-

“My laptop! Oh my God, Kisa-san, are you seeing this?!” Ritsu suddenly shouted from his desk. 

Masamune looked toward the commotion, in a much worse mood than usual due to the fact that yesterday evening he had gotten zero kisses: no kisses good night before bed, not even a good morning kiss today before they left for work! But, hearing Ritsu so distressed naturally made him put his own grievances aside to make sure he was okay. 

“It’s smoking out of the charger port! What the hell?!” Ritsu exclaimed before the screen suddenly went dark. 

“That can’t be good…” Kisa said unhelpfully. 

“No! No, no, no, no, no, this can’t be happening, my laptop can’t be giving out on me, I need it!” Ritsu desperately tried to turn it back on several times.

“Is that a good idea? It was just smoking…” Kisa said. 

Good idea or not, Ritsu failed at getting the computer to power back on, making him drop his head on to his desk in despondency. “I hope it catches on fire, if it burns down the building I won’t have to work anymore.” He said. “My proposal…” He added miserably, moreso to himself than anyone else. 

The laptop made a concerning sparking sound, officially becoming Masamune’s competitor as Ritsu’s primary stressor. 

“You should probably do something about that before it really does catch on fire.” Hatori said and Ritsu just made a sound of misery. 

“...That proposal’s not gonna get done today, is it, Onodera?” Masamune asked. 

Ritsu let out another groan of despair. 

Masamune started to hope that the laptop would burn down the building too because if there was no more work to be done then that meant he could finally be kissed once he got home. 

Of course, neither he or Ritsu could be so lucky.

[sometimesiwritethings]

Waste It on Me | Namjoon & Jungkook

🌑pairing | Kim Namjoon x gn!reader x Jeon Jungkook

🌘genre | smut and lots of feelings

🌗word count | 6.3k

🌖includes | established relationship, boyfriend Namjoon, drunken confessions, best friend Jungkook, friends to lovers, threesome, power dynamics, dirty talk, voyeurism, unprotected sex, sub drop, (belated) healthy communication, polyamory

🌕blurb | Jungkook realized his mistake as soon as he saw the wheels turning furiously behind Namjoon’s narrowed eyes. “I’m not in love with you. I just... I love both of you! As buddies! It’s not lik-”

Jungkook tossed and turned for what felt like hours, even though his phone claimed he'd laid down less than twenty minutes ago. It wasn’t just the limited space of your couch that kept him awake, nor the inevitable fact that he'd wake up with a stiff back in the morning. No, it was his overactive mind that betrayed him.

All he could do was play the night’s events over and over again in his head. Each quick glance Namjoon shot you at the bar. Every kiss you stole from his hyung while Jungkook took his turn at the pool table. The fire in Namjoon’s eyes as he practically dragged you into the bedroom, leaving Jungkook alone the moment the three of you made it back to your apartment. He wasn’t sure if it was the memories or the alcohol creating the tight burn in his stomach, but the feeling grew stronger until he buried his face in the cushions to muffle his whines.

It was all so perfect.

Jungkook had been the biggest supporter of your budding relationship ever since you confided in him about your crush on Namjoon. After all, Jungkook had introduced the two of you. So, of course, he'd been excited when both his closest friends began to date in secret.

Whenever he noticed your relationship hit a rough patch, Jungkook felt it was his personal responsibility to make sure you two came out of it stronger than before. Plus it was a nice distraction from his nonexistent dating life. He preferred it this way. Love had never worked for Jungkook before, he was no stranger to heartbreak and the pain of always being let go. He would much rather dedicate his time to making sure you and Namjoon had better luck than he did.

Lately, it seemed like the two of you were stuck in a rut. Tonight had been his attempt to recreate the first date Namjoon had taken you on, hoping to highlight the reason you two had fallen in love in the first place. It was a last-ditch effort, but thankfully it paid off.

As great as this victory was, Jungkook was doing himself no favors by letting it run on repeat in his mind. There had been mention of brunch plans that he was going to miss out on if he didn’t get to sleep soon. He vaguely remembered there was a bottle of melatonin in your medicine cabinet and rolled off the couch in search of it.

A thin beam of light escaped from the crack in your doorway to illuminate the dark hallway. The idea of you and Namjoon staying up well into the night thanks to Jungkook’s role as cupid made him feel strangely satisfied and warm to his core. He really did try to allow the two of you some semblance of privacy and ignore the whispers coming from your room. But when he heard his name not once, but twice in a hushed tone, Jungkook couldn’t help but stop and listen.

“… always there. How am I supposed to focus on us when we never have time alone?” Namjoon’s voice was thick and raspy after a night of drinking.

“That’s not fair and you know it.” Your voice was softer and more controlled, though it still held a stern warning.

“Why not? You know it’s true,” Namjoon was quick to defend himself. “Let’s face it, we’re not a couple. It’s like our relationship has a third hidden member and I just don’t know what that means for us. I don’t know how to deal with that without-”

If he'd been sober, Jungkook would have had enough self-awareness to retreat back to the living room. He would have spent the rest of the night quietly dissecting Namjoon’s words before reaching the inevitable conclusion it was his own fault your relationship was unable to move forward in any meaningful way. He would have slipped out of your apartment before the sun rose and begun to distance himself from the two most important people in his life, no matter how it would break his heart to do so.

But there was just enough alcohol in Jungkook's system to make him overly sensitive and in desperate need of answers, no matter the consequence.

“What do you mean you’re not a couple!” Jungkook demanded as he burst into your room. He ignored your surprised yelp and set his sights on Namjoon, who stood by your desk wearing only a pair of sweatpants and a weary expression. A small voice of reason tried to warn him that he'd regret this in the morning, but Jungkook was too heated to listen.

“I call to the stand my surprise witness: Jeon Jungkook,” Namjoon remarked with a heavy sigh. He ignored Jungkook entirely and turned his attention back to where you sat on the bed. “Do you get it now? This isn't normal.”

A feverish heat raced across Jungkook’s cheeks. How dare his hyung keep gossiping as if he wasn’t there. He stepped directly in front of Namjoon, refusing to be ignored. “You should be grateful to have such an abnormal friend! Do you have any idea how many hours I’ve wasted on both of you? Arranging dates. Late-night advice. Keeping it all a secret.” With each example, he poked Namjoon’s bare chest for emphasis. “You think I'd do that if I thought you two weren’t perfect for each other? If you weren’t a real couple?”

“Kookie.”

It was only a single word spoken barely above a whisper, but it was enough to bring his rant to a halt. He exchanged a guilty look with Namjoon, who almost looked as shameful as Jungkook felt, before he turned around to face you.

You had always made him feel soft, but the sight of you dressed only in a pair of fuzzy socks and Namjoon’s oversized sweatshirt made Jungkook’s heart melt. For a brief moment, he wondered if you were still wearing the new underwear he helped you pick out earlier that week or if you'd already stripped it off.

“I really didn’t want to have this conversation with either of you tonight, but here we are,” you huffed. A tired smile flitted across your lips as you reached out to take Jungkook’s hand in yours. “I’m sorry you overheard us talking, but I promise it’s not as sinister as it sounds. Please, sit down?”

Jungkook spared a glance over his shoulder, but Namjoon was busy ignoring him again and pacing the length of your room. A gentle tug on his hand brought Jungkook’s attention back to you. There wasn’t a man alive who could resist your cute little pout, so he took a spot next to you on the bed and rested his head on your shoulder. The scent of your lotion still clung to your skin and mixed nicely with the smell of Namjoon’s sweatshirt.

The blend of the two scents helped to calm Jungkook’s racing heart, and his eyes slid shut as he inhaled it deeper. It was a smell that was soothing, consoling. One that assured him that he'd found his place in the world. He was always meant to go through life with you and Namjoon at his side. And yet, for the first time, he was worried his safe haven might crumble beneath his feet.

“Are you guys going to break up?”

Jungkook hated how his voice betrayed him, making him sound as small and uncertain as he felt at that moment. Of course, he'd known on some level there was a chance that your relationship might not last forever. But he never imagined the end coming so suddenly - certainly not after he'd orchestrated the perfect date. Nor had he ever considered the possibility that he'd be the catalyst for the end of it all.

Your arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders and pulled him closer against the curve of your neck. “I told you it wasn’t like that,” you sighed. Deft fingers combed through Jungkook’s hair as he relaxed deeper into your touch. “It was your big mouth that started this, Joon. You explain it to him.”

Jungkook peaked his eyes open to find that Namjoon had stopped his pacing and now stood directly in front of him. The withering look in his hyung’s eyes made Jungkook feel small in your arms. He couldn’t help but notice the way Namjoon’s jaw jutted forward in irritation, or how his broad shoulders were pushed back to bring himself to his full height.

It was clear that Namjoon felt a touch territorial at that moment. Jungkook tried to squirm his way out of your arms, but you simply held him tighter. Above his head, he could feel your jaw move as you silently mouthed something that made Namjoon huff and roll his eyes. Whatever secret message that passed between you two managed to soften his edge, though.

“I know how much you do for us Kook, I really do,” Namjoon reassured as he began his nervous pacing once more. “But that’s the weird part. You’ve never put this much effort into any of your past relationships combined.”

Namjoon sighed and shot Jungkook another look, one that made Kook’s stomach turn with how lost his hyung appeared. “I want to think things would have gone just as well without your help, but I honestly don’t know if that’s true. You’ve always been an unofficial part of our relationship.”

“And you want me to take a step back to let you guys be a real couple,” Jungkook mumbled.

It was only logical. Of course the two of you wanted more time alone; you were brilliant people with so much to learn and love about each other. And here he was selfishly getting in the way every time.

“No, no, no!” In a flash, Namjoon knelt in front of Jungkook and grabbed him by the shoulders to pull him upright out of your arms. “That’s the last thing either of us want,” Namjoon assured him. He took a moment to study Jungkook’s wide eyes before he took a deep breath and cupped the younger man’s cheek. “I just need to know. Why do you hang around us so much? What’s in it for you?”

Perhaps it was the lingering effect of the alcohol or the whirlwind of Namjoon’s shifting mood. Whatever the reason, Jungkook found himself nuzzling against the warm hand on his cheek as the confession escaped his lips, “Because I’m in love with you.”

Shit.

Jungkook realized his mistake as soon as he saw the wheels turning furiously behind Namjoon’s narrowed eyes. He knew his hyung was weighing his words and would soon realize the hidden depth to them not even Jungkook had fully come to terms with. “I’m not in love with you. I just... I love both of you! As buddies! It’s not lik-”

Namjoon grabbed the back of his neck, warm and Jungkook fully believed he was about to be thrown out into the dark hallway. The last thing he expected was to feel Namjoon's mouth crushed against his own quivering lips. Jungkook froze. His confused mind took far too long to realize he was experiencing a kiss.

It was a delicate kiss despite all of Namjoon’s earlier posturing. His lips felt warm and safe, just as inviting as the man they belonged to. Jungkook found himself melting against those soft lips as he hesitantly returned the kiss. He had no clue what was going on or why, but he had experienced too many guilty dreams about this exact moment not to give in a little.

It wasn’t long before the grip on Jungkook’s neck tightened. The kiss began to deepen and Namjoon nipped at his lower lip. Jungkook yelped out, more from surprise than pain, and pulled away from the kiss. A strained growl rippled in Namjoon’s chest, but he didn’t fight against Jungkook’s retreat.

Jungkook struggled to straighten his head and catch his breath. He caught Namjoon watching him closely with a hungry expression, his eyes hazy with need. It made Jungkook shiver, but he froze as a pair of hands wrapped around his waist and he guiltily remembered you were sitting right next to him.

And you had watched Jungkook share the most intimate kiss of his life with your boyfriend.

“Slow down, Joon,” you laughed. You rested your chin on Jungkook’s shoulder and gazed up at him. Your eyes held the same need as Namjoon’s, but more playful and curious. “Kookie hasn’t had as long to process this as we have. Give him a chance to catch up.”

Jungkook glanced between you and Namjoon, feeling absolutely lost. He felt as though all the pieces were there, but for the life of him he could not figure out how they fit together. It was like the two of you read ahead to learn the twist ending and were waiting patiently for Jungkook to figure it out himself. But his mind was a mess; he was too busy staring at Namjoon’s lips to think straight.

“I’m so confused,” Jungkook confessed.

Namjoon chuckled and laid his hands on Jungkook's thighs, causing his heart to stutter. “We’ve tried to do this on our own, but it always feels like there’s something missing.” You hummed in agreement when Namjoon glanced at you for support. “We don’t want you to take a step back, Kook. We want you to stop hanging out on the sidelines and start being a real part of our relationship.”

Jungkook’s brow furrowed in deep thought. Somehow he felt even more confused after Namjoon’s confession. Sure, he'd entertained this very what-if fantasy more times than he cared to admit. But it was a delusion that he had never put any real thought into. He knew for certain that indulging himself would only be a waste of time. He knew what love did to people.

How many times had he sat back and laughed at the chaotic love lives of his hyungs? At least when he kept to the sidelines, Jungkook could keep his wits about him. He could see the trouble on the horizon and squash it before it had a chance to ruin things.

If Jungkook were to leave the sidelines and join in the game, he knew his heart would get the better of him. He'd become just as blind as everyone else. He wouldn’t be able to protect you and Namjoon the same way he did now. Even worse, he might become the cause of tears and heartbreak for you two. And Jungkook had no idea how he'd ever hope to pick up the pieces if that happened.

Jungkook smiled bitterly and he shook his head. “I can't, hyung.”

“Why not?” Namjoon demanded with a frown. “You just said you were in love with me, with us. We love you too, Kook.” He reached forward to brush back Jungkook’s bangs, looking wounded when he pulled back from the touch. “I know it’s a lot to process right now, but don’t turn us down without thinking it through.”

Jungkook sighed because he had thought it through. Countless times. And each time he mentally watched it end in warfare that destroyed his closest friendships. He didn’t want to be eaten up and then thrown away once you both realized he wasn’t to your taste. At least this way he could stay in your lives without shattering the delicate balance he'd worked so hard to achieve.

“Of course I love you guys, you’re my friends,” Jungkook enunciated. He swallowed hard around the lie when your arms became rigid around him. “But I don’t want things to change. I’m not interested in either of you like that. I just want to be your friend and stay by your side through everything.”

Namjoon let out a harsh laugh. He leaned back on his heels and fixed Jungkook with a stern look. “Don’t lie to us. Is that why you kissed me back? Because you’re not interested?”

“You took me by surprise is all,” Jungkook muttered as he fidgeted beneath Namjoon’s gaze.

“Fine, so you don’t want me.” There was a flash of genuine hurt in Namjoon’s eyes. Jungkook hated knowing that he was the cause of it. The vulnerability was swiftly replaced by the posturing from earlier as Namjoon held his chin high. He stood and pointed to the floor.

“Sit,” Namjoon commanded.

Jungkook scrambled out of your arms and practically dove towards the floor. There was something so final about that single word that made it impossible to disobey. He watched with wide eyes as Namjoon took over his spot on the bed.

Namjoon turned his attention to you with open arms. He patted his thigh in an invitation, but you hesitated and glanced down at Jungkook. He could see his own questions mirrored in your eyes. At least he wasn’t the only one completely thrown off by Namjoon’s volatile mood.

“What about-” You yelped as Namjoon wrapped one arm around your waist and hauled you into his lap. His lips crashed against yours in a frenzied kiss. Namjoon pressed a hand against the small of your back to hold you close as the other tangled in your hair.

Jungkook couldn’t help but stare with his mouth hanging open. It made him feel shy to witness such an intimate moment. He'd seen Namjoon kiss you before, but only quick little pecks on the corner of your lips. This kiss was different. It was demanding and possessive, harsher than Jungkook had ever imagined his hyung could be. It made him remember his own kiss with Namjoon and his lip throbbed where Namjoon had bitten him.

Jungkook licked his lips, his mouth suddenly feeling dry. He leaned forward and placed his hand on Namjoon’s knee, reaching out in need but not quite sure what it was he wanted. Namjoon practically growled into your mouth as he slapped Jungkook’s hand away.

“No touching,” Namjoon barked.

Jungkook whined softly but obediently sat back on his heels. He wanted to be good for Namjoon. He didn’t quite know what to do in this situation besides fidgeting into a more comfortable position as Namjoon kissed you again.

Namjoon rested his hand on your knee. It crept up the expanse of your thigh, pebbling the skin as his fingers skated upwards. His hand dipped beneath the hem of your oversized sweatshirt. Your legs clenched around his hand and you gasped, breaking the kiss.

“What about Kookie?” You glanced down at Jungkook, meeting his entranced gaze for the briefest moment before you looked away.

Namjoon smirked. “What about him? He said he wanted to just sit back and watch us, right? So we might as well give him something worth watching.”

You worried your lip between your teeth. “What if he doesn’t want to just watch?” The double meaning of your words - what if he doesn't want to see this and what if he wants to do more than watch - made Jungkook’s ears ring with curiosity.

“He knows where the door is,” Namjoon growled, only answering one half of the question. You shifted in his lap, hesitation still evident in your face. Namjoon softened and lifted your chin with his fingers.

“It’s okay, baby. Remember your colors.” Namjoon’s voice was low and comforting. Jungkook’s shoulders relaxed even though he wasn't the one being spoken to. He always loved seeing Namjoon treat you so gently. You looked at ease as Namjoon asked, “Where are you at?”

You gave Namjoon a small smile and muttered something under your breath that Jungkook didn’t catch. But Namjoon’s eyes turned dark at your answer. He leaned over to grab the vaseline from the bedside table and coated two fingers in the jelly. Namjoon slipped his hand back between your thighs. This time, you didn’t stop him.

Jungkook watched how you responded to Namjoon’s touch with rapt attention. He noticed the way the muscles in your thighs tensed up, the way your breathing turned heavy and affected the rise and fall of your chest. He loved seeing all the different facial expressions you made trying to stay quiet while Namjoon opened you up.

Namjoon cupped your cheek with his free hand, dragging his thumb across your lips. “Such a pretty mouth,” he whispered. Jungkook couldn’t help but groan in agreement. “How often have you thought about these lips, Jungkook-ah?”

“You’re not playing fair,” Jungkook whined. He was struggling to hold onto his reasons for not getting involved, trying to remember why he was so resistant to giving in to what he obviously wanted. He knew it had been important, but his mind was too clouded to remember.

Namjoon let out a deep laugh, one that rumbled through his chest. “It sounds like you’ve thought about it a lot. How did they feel in your daydreams? Did you imagine them kissing down your throat?”

Jungkook could do nothing but whine in response. He'd thought about kissing you lots of times, almost as often as he had fantasized about kissing Namjoon. It was agony now to watch your lips spill out gentle moans as Namjoon continued to play with you.

Namjoon pushed his thumb into your mouth. He smiled as you wasted no time in hollowing out your cheeks to suck him. “Such a greedy little mouth,” Namjoon praised in a low voice. “You ever think about these lips wrapped around your cock? I bet you have.”

Jungkook felt overheated. He stripped off his shirt but it did nothing to cool him down. His cock strained against the fabric of his pants and he reached down to adjust himself.

“No touching.”

Jungkook whined, feeling small under Namjoon’s critical eyes. First he couldn’t touch either of you and now he wasn’t even allowed to touch himself. He wanted so badly to feel some sort of relief, but he feared Namjoon would stop everything if he didn’t behave. Jungkook shifted to sit cross-legged, one hand placed palm down on the floor between his thighs.

Namjoon pulled his thumb out of your mouth. He shifted you in his lap so that you now sat with your back against his broad chest. He hooked your legs over his knees and forced your legs open as he spread his thighs. Namjoon’s hand dipped down between your thighs once again as the hem of the sweatshirt rode up, barely concealing anything from where Jungkook was sitting.

“Let me see, hyung,” Jungkook begged. He felt small as Namjoon fixed him with a hard look, adding a soft, “Please.”

“I don’t know, Kook, you haven’t done a good job obeying my one rule.” Namjoon began to play with the hem of your sweatshirt, teasing Jungkook. “Do you really think you deserve a reward?”

“No, but I promise I’ll be good from now on.” The words spilled out of Jungkook’s lips the same moment he realized it was an impossible promise to keep.

Namjoon hummed thoughtfully to himself. He took his sweet time mulling over Jungkook’s words, but finally hiked up the sweatshirt. Jungkook shifted his hips forward on instinct, grinding his cock against the palm of his hand as discreetly as possible. He knew he was already breaking his promise to Namjoon. But he couldn’t help it. He watched with wide eyes as Namjoon's slick fingers toyed expertly with your body.

You moaned and leaned your head back against Namjoon’s shoulder. The expanse of your throat was laid bare, and Namjoon was quick to take advantage of it. “Do you know how hard it is for me to share?” Namjoon muttered against your neck as he pressed kisses to your skin. “I don’t normally let others play with my toys.”

Jungkook groaned and rutted himself against his arm as he realized Namjoon was talking about you, as if you were nothing more than an inanimate object. He was surprised by how much he liked it. You must have enjoyed it too, considering the way you rolled your hips down on Namjoon's fingers.

“It took so long to warm up to the idea of sharing.” Namjoon slid his fingers out of you. He held out his hand towards Jungkook, and Jungkook nearly fell over himself for a chance to suck Namjoon’s fingers clean. ”Then you had to act so mean and refuse to play with me.”

Jungkook’s lips barely brushed the tip of Namjoon’s fingers before Namjoon pulled his hand away, leaving Jungkook to whine and lick the faintest taste of you from his lips while Namjoon popped his fingers into his own mouth. “How do they taste, hyung?” Jungkook asked in a small voice.

Namjoon sucked his fingers clean, pulling them from his mouth with a wet pop. “Better than you could imagine, Kook,” he said with a smirk.

You wiggled in Namjoon’s lap, pushing your hips back against him. “So are you going to fuck me, or do you just plan to blue ball all three of us tonight?”

“Don’t get mouthy,” Namjoon warned with a smile. He held you steady with an arm around your waist as he shifted his sweatpants down around his ankles. He yanked off your sweatshirt and gave your butt a playful smack before leaning back on his elbows against the mattress. “Go on and fuck yourself since you have no patience.”

You got up to stand between Namjoon’s open legs, your thighs spread wide as you grabbed his cock by the base and lined it up just right. Jungkook took the moment to admire how big Namjoon looked with your hand wrapped around his cock. Of course he'd seen Namjoon naked before, but only been in passing during wardrobe changes or when he'd forget to bring clothes into the bathroom after a shower. Jungkook had never seen Namjoon like this, fully hard and leaking precum as you rubbed his cockhead between your thighs.

You sunk down slowly onto Namjoon’s cock. Jungkook watched in amazement at how you stretched around Namjoon’s girth, watching you quiver as he filled the need inside of you. Jungkook wondered if you'd look just as good with his own cock stuffed inside you.

You took a moment to adjust to the girth inside of you, but Namjoon seemed to have other plans. He thrust his hips up, pushing the rest of the way inside of you until he bottomed out. The force of it nearly sent you falling forward, but Jungkook was up on his knees in an instant to help steady you.

Jungkook licked his lips as he met your eye for what felt like the first time in years. You offered him a small smile that he couldn’t help but return. “You can use me,” he breathed out before realizing how it sounded. “For balance, I mean.” He put your hands on his shoulders and let his arms drop by his sides. You gave him a quick squeeze that brought back that troublesome warmth in Jungkook’s chest.

You ground down on Namjoon’s cock, rocking back and forth as you found your rhythm. Jungkook felt torn. His eyes keep darting between your face and down to where you and Namjoon were connected. You began to bounce on Namjoon’s cock after a bit, your lips open as you moaned in mindless pleasure.

Jungkook couldn’t pass up the chance to lean in to kiss you, his tongue sweeping into your mouth. It was so weird yet amazing at the same time to feel your lips working against his. Namjoon huffed and kicked out his foot to hit Jungkook in the thigh. Jungkook grunted into the kiss but he didn’t pull back. Not even the threat of Namjoon’s wrath was enough to drag him away from your lips.

Namjoon grabbed your hips, pulling you back from the kiss and deep onto his cock. “I thought I made myself very clear about touching,” he growled. He laid down fully on the bed and planted his feet firmly against the floor. He fucked up into you with a new passion, gripping your hips so hard that Jungkook was certain it would leave a bruise. You could only blabber apologies as Namjoon pistoned into you, leaning back and clenching the sheets into your fists.

Jungkook palmed himself through his pants in another blatant act of disobedience. He shuffled closer, trying to stroke himself in time with Namjoon’s thrusts. He wanted to see you cum while clenched around Namjoon’s cock, wanted to watch as Namjoon filled your hole until it dripped out of you. Before he knew it, those very words were cascading out into the world before he had a chance to stop them.

Fingers tangled in his hair and Jungkook allowed you to drag his head between your thighs until he was only a breath away, watching as Namjoon fucked into you without mercy. Jungkook leaned in to lick you, his tongue dragging across Namjoon’s shaft as he teased your hole. He couldn’t help but enjoy the way Namjoon’s hips stuttered.

“Behave,” Namjoon barely managed to choke out.

Your hands were firm on Jungkook’s head, giving him a silent and entirely contradictory order. Jungkook flattened his tongue and let you guide him by his hair, using his mouth to help chase your release. He felt you clenched rapidly beneath his tongue as you came, coating his face as you rode out the intense pleasure.

“Fuckin’ swear, Kook. When this is over I’m gonna-” Namjoon choked on the threat as Jungkook began to knead Namjoon’s balls with the palm of his hand. Jungkook pressed his thumb against the base of Namjoon’s cock when he came inside you, knowing firsthand how intense it made his own orgasms feel. It seemed to have the same effect on Namjoon if his throaty moans were anything to go off of.

You released Jungkook just as Namjoon’s hips collapsed against the mattress. You lifted off his cock slowly and Jungkook watched as it bounced up to smack against Namjoon’s abs. His own cock was still hard and throbbing. Jungkook couldn’t resist leaning in to drag his tongue up the full length of Namjoon’s shaft to taste the tangy mix of orgasms. His lips wrapped around the tip when he reached it.

“Can’t you be good for one second?” Namjoon groaned. He rested his hand against the back of Jungkook’s head. Jungkook hummed in response. Namjoon pulled Jungkook off with a wet pop and pushed him into your arms. “Go be a little cumslut over there.”

Finally, a command Jungkook could happily obey. He pressed kisses down your stomach as you guided him between your legs. Jungkook wasted no time in burying his face into you, eager to lick and suck you clean. His hips ground down against the mattress as he ate you out. He was hyper-aware now of his neglected cock, so close to his own release despite going completely untouched.

Namjoon’s strong hands gripped Jungkook’s waist to lift him away from the delicious friction of the sheets. He could have cried in frustration. When he realized that Namjoon was wrestling him out of his pants, Jungkook did his best to helpfully wiggle his way out of the last of his clothing.

Two sets of hands maneuvered Jungkook so he laid on top of you. He quickly buried his face into the curve of your neck, completely incapable of maintaining eye contact when he was so far gone. His hips slotted between yours, his dick twitching as he desperately ground down against the combined mess of Namjoon's cum and his own spit.

There was a hand in his hair, one scratching down his back while another cupped his ass and squeezed. Yet another hand cupped his balls, and sooner than he would’ve liked, it became too much. His skin felt too small to contain him, and Jungkook muffled his own groan as he came across your stomach.

He felt sticky, hot, and over-touched. Yet he still huffed in annoyance when you rolled him off of you, defiant in the way he curled up as close as possible. It was too many sensations at once for his exhausted body to take, but he refused be the first to pull away. Because there was a warning going off in the back of his mind. He wasn’t quite sure why, but he felt a growing certainty that once he let go, he'd never get to touch either of you again.

“Hey.” Your voice pulled Jungkook out of his own head and back into reality. You pushed his sweaty bangs out of his eyes. “How are you feeling?”

Jungkook opened his mouth only to realize he had no idea how to answer. The haze in his mind was finally starting to clear after coming down from his insanely horny high. Suddenly he was able to look back on the night’s events with a growing pit of dread in his stomach. His confession. Namjoon’s kiss. Every time he touched you despite the strict orders not to.

He didn’t realize he was crying until you wiped your thumb across his wet cheek. “Joonie. He's dropping.”

Jungkook didn’t know where Namjoon had slipped off to, but he was back on the bed in an instant. Jungkook was wrapped up and pinned against Namjoon’s chest while the other man murmured sweet nothings into the shell of his ear. It felt safe and warm and right, and it made Jungkook sob even harder.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” Namjoon crooned. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

“No, it’s not!” Jungkook pressed the heel of his palms against his eyes. “I knew I couldn’t do this right. I kept doing the one thing you told me not to do. No touching. I saw how upset it made you when I was hugging-” He bit his lip, unable to bring himself to even say your name. “Then I went and did all that and I fucking ruined everything!”

“You ruined nothing.” Namjoon’s voice was stern. His large hands began to trace absentmindedly across Jungkook’s back. It wasn’t enough to calm him down, but it soothed Jungkook enough for him to regain control of his lungs and suck in a deep breath.

When Jungkook’s sobs quieted down to soft hiccups, Namjoon spoke up. “I wasn’t mad at you two for cuddling up together. I was mad at myself.” He paused, searching for the right words. “It hurts seeing you get so worked up, Kook. Hurts double when I’m the reason you’re upset. Cause then I can’t be the one to hold you and tell you it’s all okay.”

Jungkook allowed himself to consider the full meaning of those words. Looking back with what he now knew, he could almost believe that Namjoon had been jealous over not being able to comfort him. The fact that he was currently cradled in Namjoon’s arms helped with the realization. “But I kept breaking your rule: no touching.”

“Aish, I wanted you to touch,” Namjoon chuckled. “But you were being so damn stubborn, so I figured a little reverse psychology couldn’t make things any worse. And maybe my ego was a little bruised when you said you weren’t interested in me.” Namjoon’s arms tensed up around him. “Which is fine! I get it, I’m not the most…”

Jungkook sat up and put on his serious face to stare Namjoon down until he trailed off. Then he leaned in to properly finish the kiss that set the whole night in motion. “I might have undersold my interest at first,” Jungkook confessed once they pulled apart to breathe.

“Told ya Kookie was into you,” you chirped up. Namjoon glared at you, but it held no weight. You leaned across Jungkook to kiss the sour look off of Namjoon’s face.

Jungkook smiled as he laid back to watch the two of you get lost in your own little world for a moment. It almost felt like normal. Try as he might, he couldn’t spot a forced smile or a single hollow word that could prove that anything had soured between the three of you. He could almost believe that nothing had changed if not for the fact that he was still naked and covered in his own cum.

“What happens now?” Jungkook’s voice was barely above a whisper. It was a question he didn’t want to ask, worried that it would be the moment that would ruin his warm, fuzzy feeling. But it needed to be asked.

You and Namjoon finally broke apart. There was a thoughtful look shared between you two, one that Jungkook wished he understood. His stomach flipped as he wondered if he would be able to get close enough to communicate with either of you through just a glance.

“Sleep is what happens now,” Namjoon decided. “Then a shower when we wake up.” He untangled himself from the mess of limbs long enough to turn off the lights before flopping back into bed.

“I think the brunch plans are shot to hell,” you mumbled as you sorted out the sheets. “But there’s a half-decent diner just a few blocks away. We could probably make it in time for the dinner special. And we can figure out the rest after that.”

You curled up against Jungkook’s chest as Namjoon threw an arm across his stomach. Jungkook was squished between your naked bodies but it didn’t feel awkward in the slightest. He still had about a million questions about your relationship dynamic and how the hell he was supposed to fit into it. But then you kissed his chin at the same time Namjoon whispered good night in his ear, and Jungkook decided those questions could wait until after sleep and showers and dinner.

He'd already wasted so much time on the two of you- what was one more night?

A/N: See, I can write something other than fluff with Joonie ;-;

Thank you so much for reading! Please like and reblog if you enjoyed this fic, and consider following me to be notified of future posts. Or check out my masterlist for more content~

[jjm-blogspot]

Writing Tips: Advice on writing a good plot twist

Hey all, I’m back with some writing tips! My schedule has become somewhat packed, so I’m going to downgrade a bit and try posting tips every Monday morning to start everyone’s writing week off strong. Today I’ll be focusing on plot twists! This is something I utilize a lot in my writing, so I thought it might be fun to share advice on what I consider when crafting one.

Here’s what I’ve got:

1. Lay the foundation for the setup

Setup plays a large part in crafting a good plot twist because you never want your readers/viewers to be completely blindsided when it occurs. Plot twists are great because they give you a healthy in between. They make readers experience a range of emotions, and they also come with receipts. And by receipts, I mean your readers can backtrack through your story, and have somewhat of an epiphany. A great plot twist allows readers to say, “Oh yeah! That twist makes sense because of what character X did in chapter 18!”

Laying breadcrumbs is the foundation that holds it all together. A good plot twist is something that has been in the works long before it happens. It’s not something randomly thrown into the story to cause random mischief. If character Y, who has been loyal to a specific cause their entire life, suddenly decides to betray the organization they’re dedicated to…it doesn’t really make any sense. Now, if character Y went on a journey with an enemy, and learned a different side to the story, becoming sympathetic, then the betrayal works. It may be a shock, but it’s also kind of expected.

Here’s an example of a plot twist reveal in a She-Ra fanfic (Exploits of Power) I wrote a while back:

Mara keeps the wand aimed at Adora as she asks, “What tipped you off?”

Adora finds no use in lying now, “Retirement…I know you—at least, I thought I did.”

“You came to this conclusion all because I said I’m retiring?” Mara shakes her head. “No. You’re too dumb for that.”

Adora flinches—she knows she shouldn’t care what Mara has to say, especially not after what she’s learned, but Mara was her mentor.

“The hybrid tipped you off.” Mara spits with a cruelty Adora’s never heard off her tongue.

Adora shoots back, “I have a mind of my own. I’m the one who figured you out. I went to Lonnie’s house the night Octavia was arrested, I was under a glamor spell—”

“You were right there,” Mara realizes with a start.

Adora frowns. “And when Octavia said you were showing up I thought to myself, why would the Director of Magical Security be coming all the way out here just to sort through a stack of papers? You couldn’t search the house the first week of the murder because the case was still hot—too many people were investigating—so you gave it some time to cool off before you made your move. See, not as dumb as you think.”

In this scene, I focused on emphasizing those breadcrumbs I placed in my earlier chapters by having Adora mention it in her dialogue.

2. Don’t hold the reader’s hand

I know you’re excited about your story. When a big reveal approaches, you probably want to show all your cards, but don’t. One of the fun things about reading is coming to these kinds of conclusions on your own. Don’t be afraid to withhold information from your readers. And if you do release some information, make sure it’s subtle.

If you’re still worried about showing too little, it would be wise to find some beta readers to check out your first couple of drafts. Ask your betas how they felt during the plot twist reveal, and ask them at what parts of the story did they start realizing something was off. Was the reveal too obvious? Or was it not obvious enough?

3. Don’t let it be too much of a shock

I mentioned this a little bit earlier, and it ties into laying the foundation. Just keep in mind that your readers should be able to say, “That makes sense.” after a plot twist has been revealed. When the proper breadcrumbs aren’t left behind, that's when people say something was “rushed” or “that came out of nowhere”. So make sure to take the time to make sure you’re guiding your readers along the proper path as you approach that fork in the road.

4. Utilize characters no one would expect

If you’re stuck on coming up with a good plot twist then you can never go wrong with utilizing that quiet person on your character list. You know, the one who all your other characters would go above and beyond to ensure their happiness. A great aspect about this is, it also allows you to add some depth for that specific character. I’m sure we can all relate to googling a random name for an extra who ends up having a much bigger part in the story than we expected.

As long as the foundation is set, you’ll be good to go.

5. Stick the landing for the payoff scene

Okay, this is where it all comes together. You’ve set the foundation, and sprinkled those breadcrumbs, and now you’re ready for the big reveal. The question is...how do you do it? A good place to start would be asking yourself: which characters will be in the reveal scene? And more importantly, why these specific characters? Personally, I like to include the characters who have the most emotional ties to the reveal—the ones who will break down the most when they’re hit with it. Most times it will be the MC.

I usually place my MC in the reveal scene because, by this point in the story, the readers have grown with them. They’ve seen my MC struggle with rising conflict, and so they want to see what they’ll do when they’re faced with their biggest challenge yet.

If you’re able to put all these things together, then you’ll hit the nail on the head with your payoff scene. And believe me when I say, you want to stick this landing. Your readers have likely been with you from the beginning, following your characters on this wild journey, so you want to make it worth it for them.

6. Have fun!

Working on your plot twists, and reveals should be fun, and exciting (maybe a little—a lot—nerve wracking). So find joy in that aspect, even though you’ll probably have to do some crazy editing once the draft is complete.

Make sure to enjoy the ride. Just try not to laugh too manically when you’re spreading those crumbs.

[tordenvejr]

hi vic! i’m sorry to bother you with this, and you’re absolutely free to not answer, but how does it get better? does it ever? i’ve been feeling stuck for so long i genuinely don’t know what to do anymore. feels like i’ve tried everything - therapy, just cleansing, trying to change my mindset, new habits, etc., and i just still feel not enough. profoundly worthless and stupid, always working and hoping to no avail. and i know where it stems from, but does it really matter? i’m so lonely anyway. i can’t stand myself. it’s like i can’t stop hating myself no matter how hard i try. i just feel so unlovable and dumb, i’m feeling so bitter it scares me and i really don’t wanna try anymore. i’m exhausted, i just wanna give up now

there are so many ways it can get better, with practice, with release, with love, with time, with healing, with freedom, with fun, with dedication, with boundaries, with nourishment, with rest, and on and on and on.

the mind likes to confirm to itself what it thinks it already knows, and if it thinks it's tried all there is to try, done all there is to do, then it'll block out any evidence to the contrary, it will miss the outstretched hands of help that can be found not just attached to people.

what is your deepest wound? maybe, likely, there's more than one.

what does it mean for you to be good enough? who do you need to be good enough for? and when did those people make you feel as if you weren't?

the thing with a wound centered around not being good enough is that it goes so much deeper than self worth or love, on a physical level our bodies have evolved to seek belonging for survival. and when we are faced with the threat of being expelled from our flock, our body recognizes this as a threat to our survival. no group, no food, no protection, no life. this wound is even deeper when it comes from those who raise us, to a small child their parents are their world, they sustain them; without them they cease to exist.

so when you say you don't feel good enough, what may go unnoticed is that there's also a deep fear of not being able to survive, of imminent death stuck in your body with no outlet. this creates pain.

what do you think makes someone worthy? and of what? is this quality actually important to you, or has it just been instilled in you that it is. why do you think that you're dumb and stupid? what do you need to know about that you don't? and why do you need to know it? what or who do you think someone needs to be to loved? is this healthy or is this a result of trauma? examine these beliefs.

what kind of therapy have you received? there's a huge difference in effect when it comes to talk therapy or body-based therapy. has the stuck pain in your body received an outlet? love? or do you simply understand why it's there? understanding alone is not healing. what kind of cleansing have you done? has it followed deep acceptance or has it been bypassing of the parts in you that really need to be given space and care before you tell them to leave? does your bodily states match your desired mindset? has it healed from its trauma? if not it is very difficult to sustain a new mindset. what kind of habits? and why are they not sustainable?

if you want to give up, then give up on what pains you. all of these expectations that might not even be authentic to you in the first place; in fact they aren't, because what is authentic to you does not suffocate you. give up on fulfilling other people's needs

[ramp-it-up]

It Takes Two

Pairing: Soft Dark!Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings:  18+, Minors DNI. Curate your own experience. Cursing, drinking, cheating, breakups, rehab, recovery, deception, lies, celibacy, manipulation, wedding planning, semi-public explicit, rough, sex, oral sex (m receiving), degradation kink, breeding kink, choking, dubiuous con (b/c of deception). Darkish! Scott Evans. This is not proofread!

A/N: @lovebittenbyevans gave me a great idea about still dealing with Chris when commenting on The One.  I thought that the Chris in that fic could really go left and get pretty Dark and dirty. And then.... 

Anonymous asked:

Imagine Chris cheating on Y/N …

That made me think up this fic. It is a sequel to The One. I hope you like it!

-----

You left him.

You flew to Montreal to surprise him on set, trench coat and lingerie and everything, and when you opened the door to his trailer, you saw Heidi on her knees giving Chris a blowjob.

You cussed him out, threw the ring back in his face and turned around and left. 

You blocked his number, moved out of his house and cut off all contact.  You were done.

The audacity of Chris being indignant about your warnings about Heidi when he was boning her all along.

You loved Scott, but you had to cut him off too after he tried to explain that Chris was drunk when you found him, and was going to rehab to deal with his issues. 

 It was classic celebrity bullshit and you didn’t have time for it.

You decided to center yourself, and swear off all relationships and sex. You wanted to purge your mind of all that weighed you down. 

You concluded that love, sex, and Chris Evans made you feel heavy as fuck. 

You moved to New York City. It was far enough away from Chris and your folks in Houston to give you some peace. 

You could still run your business and even think about a storefront.  It was the perfect location to live your best life, eat healthy, exercise, socialize and network. 

You fell in love with yourself, and you didn’t think much about Christopher Robert Evans at all.

Only every time you went on IG or Twitter, even though you blocked him and his hashtags.  And every time you went to Target, because his fucking movies and merchandise were everywhere. 

But you were cool, because you were doing you. You weren’t looking for love.

Of course, that’s when it found you.

Six months after you left Boston, you were at a natural beauty products expo in Brooklyn hawking your wares.  

Your business had taken off, with almost a half million dollars in sales, and you were being interviewed by a major news outlet of color when one of the correspondents caught your eye. 

You flirted, exchanged numbers and ended up going on a date. In another three months you were engaged to him.  

Kevin Watts made you feel safe, protected and loved. And he wasn’t just after sex. He was well off, and secure in himself and you.  It just felt right. 

When Kevin proposed, it was just you and him at your favorite restaurant. So romantic. 

Not like the rowdy family 4th of July party at which Chris asked you to marry him last year, in front of both your parents.

The laughter and the joy was just a little much. 

This was perfect. You didn’t miss Chris at all. You set about planning your wedding with a profound sense of peace and safety.  

You and Kevin were meant to be.

----

Chris was nothing without you.

Nothing but an award winning actor and producer, a multi-millionaire and founder of a major organization dedicated to bringing opposing political viewpoints together. 

All of that was cool, and it kept him going, but when he lost you, he lost his motivation.

Chris didn’t take any more roles after the sequel with Heidi, and he dumped her post haste. He did enter rehab and realized that he depended way too much on alcohol to dull his emotions. 

He got drunk off his ass when he was away from you because he missed you so much, and that led to him letting Heidi think that she could have him.

She’d had him physically, but never his heart. Or his mind. You owned those.

Chris followed your business closely, and was proud of your success. 

Of course he followed your social media on burner accounts and saw that you were doing well. 

You looked like you enjoyed being single and seemed healthy and happy.

He couldn’t ask for anything more for you.

Except to be his again. 

Chris was just biding his time for your reunion, deciding to give you a year before he made his move. 

Now he felt every emotion, and he knew that you must still love him too.

You just needed to realize that your life would be even better with him back in it.

The year apart would be just punishment for what he’d done to you, and when you came back together, it would be better than before.

Everyone speculated on his bachelorhood, wondering if he would settle down, speculating and gossiping about who he was with, but he just played coy and kept quiet.

No one would know that he was yours and yours alone, and that you were still his.  

You just didn’t know it.

But you weren’t going along with the plan that you didn’t know about. 

About seven months into his self-imposed purgatory, a complication started popping up on Chris’s feed. 

Kevin. 

And a couple of months after that, a post of a proposal, in a restaurant.

The asshole probably didn’t even ask or involve your folks.  Chris was in a rage for a week. 

He almost started drinking again, but as he got ready to drive to the liquor store, Kevin’s face flashed on his screen doing a report on the election.

Instead of making him even more angry, he smiled, elated at the thought that came to him.

Chris had a new plan, and it was going to be even better than before.

-----

The last three months had been a whirlwind, and you never thought it would turn out this way.  

You were planning your wedding with your mother, discussing the seating at the reception, and you deciding where Chris Evans and his date would sit.

What a time to be alive.

Your mother only let it slip a couple of times that you should be marrying Chris, but for the most part, she kept it cute.

You explained to her that everything was squashed between you and Chris, and that he and Kevin had a great relationship, were friends, even.  

They’d bonded over politics when Kevin interviewed him, and became buds before Chris even realized that you and he were together.

Kevin knew, but he wasn’t the jealous type, and he didn’t want to make things awkward. Surprisingly, Kevin insisted that he be at the wedding. 

You thought about it and decided it would be the ultimate closure for Chris to watch you marry someone else. 

You were pleasantly surprised at Chris. He was handling this very well. He never tried to contact you, and according to Kevin, never even mentioned you. That was growth. 

Maybe you too could be friends. 

You felt good about it. So much so that you unblocked him and started a dialogue.

-----

Hi.

Chris saw your number come across his apple watch and he practically did a dance. It was 9:24 pm.  He picked up his phone and stared at the word, forcing himself to wait and not respond.  He went to work out.

47 minutes later, he responded.

Hello?

This time, he sat and waited for your response, which came 7 minutes later. 

I just wanted to say, I appreciate the way you're handling this.

Chris bit his lip, imagining you sitting there, thinking of what to say and staring down at your phone.

I’m sorry, I don't know who this is. You may have reached a wrong number?

He grinned at the play. 

----- 

Your heart dropped. Did he no longer have your contact?  

Why would he do that?

You don’t know why you felt some kinda way; you’d blocked him. 

Maybe he had changed his number and this was no longer his. Your heart was beating fast when you texted back.

Is this Chris?  This is Y/N.  I was just texting about Kevin Watts.

You anxiously watched the thought bubbles on imessage.

----

Even though you’d texted back almost immediately, Chris kept you hanging for just a couple of minutes. His dick was hard at the thought of communicating with you. 

Fuck, you were such an aphrodesiac.

Oh shit! Y/N I’m sorry.  I got a new phone.. You know how it is…

He knew you wouldn’t believe that. That’s why he said it.

You just stared at the phone. That was bullshit. You can easily port your contacts into a new phone.  You just never believed that Chris would really move on.  And you didn’t know why. 

You had.

You took a deep breath and continued.

Lol, No worries!  Just wanna say thank you for being cool with my Boo. I’m gonna turn in now. Check you later.

You tried to keep it light.

Chris ignored the ‘my Boo’ comment and focused on the thought of you in bed. 

You usually slept in a tank top or t-shirt and panties, and the top would invariably come off because you got hot. 

And then things would invariably get hotter if he was in bed with you….

Cool! Sweet dreams. Check you later. 😉

Chris made sure to exit your message thread and come back so that you wouldn’t see the thought bubbles that he saw when you kept staring at the text.

You  were lost in the times that Chris always used to say that to you, and when he whispered “Sweet Dreams” in your ear when he was far away, you always had wet dreams about him. 

And that wink. 

How could a fucking yellow emoji turn you the fuck on?

You reached for your bullet vibrator as you continued to stare at the interaction.

Chis had already started stroking himself when you told him you were going to bed. 

Knowing that you were thinking exactly what he wanted you to got him close, and he didn’t even have to pull up your old videos to get off. 

Not tonight.

-----

Over the next few weeks. you’d texted a few times, Chris ‘made amends’ and you accepted his apology. 

Then, you started texting more regularly, mainly joking around about sports, your Celtics/Rockets rivalry ever raging. 

From your perspective, Chris was always appropriate and respected your relationship with Kevin.  You were glad because you’d missed your friendship with him.

You felt giddy that your life was working out so well, and you traveled to your weekend getaway in the mountains for your bridal shower with a light heart.

Chris attended Kevin’s bachelor festivities with only a week to go until the wedding.

——

From Chris’s perspective, things were working out better than he’d hoped. 

Scoring an invite to the wedding was more than he’d imagined, and Kevin inviting him out to his Bachelor party was just icing on the cake.  

Maybe he could make Kevin slip up enough so that you would dump him before the wedding. Chris was hopeful.

If not, Plan B was the nuclear option. 

-------

Kevin was following the stripper’s ass like a puppy. He was lit on booze and pills (that Chris provided) and his guard was down.

Kevin considered Chris a friend. 

Chris just wanted to keep Kevin close because he was the enemy.

They were talking about you.

“She’s so fucking innocent. A sweeter angel there never was. I’ll have to teach her how to fuck.”

Chris almost choked on his water.

“I'm sorry. What now?”

Kevin just barreled on, ignoring the question.

“That's how I know I need to wife her.” He was talking to Chris, but still staring at the stripper.

“She would never chase the D. Hell, she won’t even touch mine. You know, her being celibate and all.”

Chris raised his eyebrow and smiled, which Kevin never noticed. Chris shook his head at your antics.  His little beautiful love.

“That’s why I was never pressed that you are her ex. I mean, I’m impressed you were with her as long as you were.”  

Chris just smiled and nodded, curious as to where this was leading.

“A man like you don’t have to put up with that. You must have punani lined up for days, bro.”

Chris’s heart lept. This dullard did not have access to your pussy. HIS pussy.  Never has.

Chris could fuck a lot of people a million ways from Sunday with one text. Except for you. And you were all that mattered. 

“I don’t know about all that.” Chris put on his best, ‘aw shucks’ act.

Chris was over the moon. You were still his. In every way.

Kevin kept tipping the stripper and was trying to call her over. He asked her about a private lap dance.  Chris’s eyes lit up. This asshole was making it too easy.

The stripper nodded and went back to finish up her set.  Chris walked over to the bar.

“Aye!” Chris summoned tha bartender over. 

“What can I get you, Sir.” 

“I don’t need a drink.  I wanna take care of my friend over there. He’s gonna have a lap dance with Star. It’s his bachelor party.  I need it to be extra special.”  

Chris started peeling off hundreds so the barkeep could see. 

“And I need him to have some keepsakes, so he’ll remember it always.” 

More hundreds came off. The bartender’s eyes got bigger and bigger. “That’s no problem.”

Chris flashed his famous smile.  

“Great, let me tell you where to send them. Wanna make them a wedding present.” He wrote down an address on a napkin. 

He was now on Plan C. And it was perfect.

------

A week later and the rehearsal at the church was more fun than you thought it would be.  You weren’t allowed to participate, just watch, as the result of an old wives tale.

The church secretary found you in the pews. She handed you a manila envelope.

“This was mailed here yesterday, probably an invoice of something for the wedding, I put it aside for you, sweetie.”

You smiled back at her and tucked it into your purse, not wanting to distract yourself with more wedding bills. 

Later, when you and Kevin were in the back of the car to the restaurant for the Rehearsal Dinner, you pulled it out and opened it. You couldn’t believe your eyes.

“What the ENTIRE FUCK KEVIN!”  

You threw the pictures of him fucking a stripper in his face, startling him out of staring at his phone.

He picked one up, his mouth dropped open and started talking. 

“Look, Baby, Baby! I can explain!...”

“DO NOT FUCKING LIE TO ME KEVIN!  WE HAVE OVER 300 PEOPLE HERE FOR OUR WEDDING TOMORROW MORNING.” 

Kevin was on his knees in the back of the suburban. 

“Listen to me.. Listen.  I’m a man. I have needs…”

“Kevin, I swear to god….”

“Okay, okay… I admit it…”

You listened to him and your heart went silent.  You couldn’t even absorb what he said.

When you pulled up to the restaurant, you straightened your dress and looked at him coolly.

“I am NOT going to deal with this tonight. Tonight was supposed to be a fun celebration of our wedding. I will decide later if it's still going to happen.”

Kevin was terrified.

“Right now, you and I will go into this place, greet our friends arm in arm and pretend that you are not a fucking narcissitic asshole who just ripped my heart to shreds. Got it?”

“Yes, but I-”

“Do NOT speak to me unless I speak to you first. Or it's automatically off.”

Kevin just nodded and cleared his throat.

You raised your chin and said, “Let’s go.”

-----

Two hours later, dinner was over, and you were lit on your way to TURNT.

Chris observed you, from the moment you entered holding hands with Kevin to the second you dropped his hand in disgust, to the way you held yourself away from him at dinner, but then put on a sweet face when everyone spoke, to Kevin, who was an absolute mess.

He figured you got the pictures. He suppressed the glee that was coursing through him.

But he couldn’t figure out why you were still going on with the charade.

Chris didn’t make a beeline for you like he wanted to, he just let the natural flow of the party lead you to him.  He was talking to your cousin when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around.

“Hey you.”  

You cocked your head at him in that way and looked up at him, your smile brightening your face.  Damn, he had to plant his feet. You smiling at him like that made him feel faint.

You both heard your cousin say something, but you didn’t pay attention, caught up in your own orbit.

“Hey.”  

Chris crossed his arms, and you swore that he was recalling the time when you told him your forearms made you horny. Fuck. Chris made you wet and you were fresh out of fucks tonight.

“So, I can’t have a hug?”  

Chris shook his head at your line and opened his arms to embrace you, keeping a respectable pressure and distance until you hugged him tight and pressed close.  

He couldn’t help but pick you up, but he put you down immediately, cleared his throat and backed up, looking uncomfortable.

That wouldn’t do. You wanted more of his scent, his warmth, his HIM. You pouted unconsciously in your buzzed state.

Chris’s cock stirred.  That fucking mouth had haunted his dreams for almost a year. He was pleased that you were flirting, but he had to work the plan.  Couldn’t go too fast.

“You look… great.  I can’t wait to see you tomorrow in your wedding dress. You will be a beautiful bride.”  

Chris broke his voice in just the right place to convey a wistfulness, making you think that he thought he lost you.

You felt bad.  Chris was so sweet.  You thought about him and you thought about Kevin. 

What was the difference between what Chris did and what Kevin did?  

And who did you have more chemistry with? Chris.  

Why were you even marrying Kevin?

You looked over at him looking at you and Chris like a lost dog.

You had no idea why you were marrying him.

“You look… Like Chris fucking Evans.” You two laughed.  

“I bet you’re fighting them off with a stick.”  You sideyed him.

Chris reveled in your interest in his sex life.

“Well, you know. After rehab, I’ve laid off the... physical part of my life. It only brought chaos, you know. I’m trying to be more… zen. Haven’t really had… that  for the better part of a year.”

He watched your eyes get big.  

“Word?”  You smirked. “So you…”

Chris held up his hand.  The one you knew he jacked off with.  You grabbed it and started drawing on his palm.  Chis pulled it back and cleared his throat again. 

You pouted again. Him being hard to get made you wet.

And Chris knew that.

“So… you ready to marry the love of your life?”

 Chris’s sea blues looked you deep into your cocoa browns. You were transported back in time.

“Yes.” 

 Then you snapped out of it.  

“I mean… the church is set up, the dress is bought, everyone’s here. I guess so.”

Chris laughed as if you were telling a joke.  

“I miss your sense of humor.”

You all made small talk and you caught up a little before you asked what you wanted to know.

“So what are you up to tonight?”

Chris looked at his watch.

“I’m actually about to go to my condo an turn in. I get up early to work out.” He felt your eyes sweep up and down his body, and he flexed even though he was fully dressed. It was true. Working out was a regimen. He wanted you drooling for him. 

“It’s the Marvel condo in Brooklyn?”

You nodded, remembering good times.

“So you have a car picking you up?”  Your mind was whirring.

“I actually have a rental.” 

You gulped your drink down, not daring to look in his eyes. Now, not only was your pussy wet, your nipples were hard as hell. 

“It’s in the parking garage down the block.”

“Well, I need to clear my head. I’ll walk you there, and you can drop me back?”

Chris looked down at your cute face, and then around the room, spotted Kevin and gave him a nod.

“You sure that’s a good idea?”  

You looked at Kevin, too.  You wanted to stick your tongue out, but you just took Chris by the arm and headed toward the door.

“I’m a big girl. Nobody owns me.” 

You looked up into Chris’s eyes and instantly regretted that statement. You played it off and pulled him through the door.

You didn’t talk at all the entire way, both of your heads deep in the clouds of you and him.  The chemistry was crackling the air between you.

You held on to his arm, and he let you, reveling in your touch.

When you reached the parking garage, Chris pressed the button with his knuckle and you got in, headed for the top deck.

You just stared at each other, both thinking the same thing. Chris chuckled.

“You’re dangerous, night before your wedding, you probably have cold feet, I’m here. Maybe you want to be sure that you’re sure…”

You cocked your head. “Who said I wanted to fuck you, Chris Evans?”

Chris cocked his head too, mirroring you.  “Who said ‘fuck?’ I was thinking you wanted to talk.”

He smirked and you scowled as the door opened.

Chris left you in the elevator stewing as he walked over to the black Tesla he’d rented. There was no other car on the deck.

You scoffed, and followed him out.

He was about to walk around to the driver's side door when you grabbed his arm before he made it. He stopped directly in front of the car.

“Do you mean to tell me that you don’t want me?”  You were hot, in more ways than one.

Chris leaned back against the hood.

“That’s not what we’re talking about, y/n. You’re getting married tomorrow. To someone else.”

You smiled and reached up, fingers grazing his neck and playing with the hair at his nape. You ran your fingers through his beard.  Kevin’s couldn’t compare.

“That’s tomorrow. Tonight I’m single as fuck.” 

You stood on your tip toes and brushed your lips against his, reveling in the moan that came from his throat.

Chris fought to control his urge and continued with his act. His fingers tightened around your waist and you thought this was it.  He turned you around in front of the car and then let you go, stepping back to pace back and forth.

“What? What is this? You’ve had almost a year. Kevin’s my friend. What do you want from me?”  

He advanced on you, and you had to remember to breathe.  He knew what you wanted.

“You. I want you, Chris.”

Chris attacked your lips with his own.  He took two seconds to savor them before he ravaged your mouth with his tongue.  You moaned and he broke from your mouth to re-discover your face, your neck, your cleavage.  He had to control himself not to rip the bodice of your blush pink chiffon dress.

He had a raging hard on, which you were feeling up, remembering how you always struggled to take him.  You wanted him to hurt you with it now.

“Give me this Chris… please…”

You were reaching into his pants, thumb caressing his wet, thick tip. He was leaking for you.

“Remember when you told me that I would meet you in a parking lot, and let you fuck me over the hood of your rental car? Even if I was with someone else?”  

You pulled your hand out and started sucking your thumb, closing your eyes at the taste of Chris after so long.  You pulled it out with a pop.  

“You were so right.”

Chris practically growled, grabbed your arm and spun you, pushing your back until your chest hit the hood of the Model X.  He leaned over you, pushing his covered crotch into the back of your dress, you moaned, wanting more.  His mouth was at your ear.

“Oh, so you want to be my cock whore on the eve of your wedding to someone else.”  You moaned because it was true.

“It’s been so long, Chris…”

He reached down in between you and flipped the flouncy skirt of your dress up, exposing you to the wind of New York City.  He looked at it for a minute, your ass always his favorite.

He caressed it with both hands, pressing into you with his thumbs.  

“So you want me to feel you up?”  He pulled his hand back and sucked one of them, practically jumping for joy when he tasted you. 

“You want me to pull your panties to the side….” and he did so, seeing your slick shine in the moonlight, and playing in it for a minute, tracing your lips and making you quiver around nothing.

The way you were moaning his name was everything right now.

Your face was pressed against the cool metal of the car, and it was the only thing tying you to the earth.

“Oh yes, Chris…. Please please yesss...fuck me… damn...stretch me out…”

Chris’s dick pulsed and he needed you around him. He moved close again and unzipped his pants, the sound making your knees weak.

He teased your cunt with his tip, collecting your arousal and smearing it not only around your pussy, but around your asshole.

“I know you’ve fucked him, but have you let him have your ass?  Am I still the only one…?”

Chris was still playing the game. 

“No, no, no… I haven’t let him… I haven’t given him anything. I’ve been celibate, too.  It’s still yours Chris. All of me is still yours.”

Chris almost came just hearing you say it out loud. He already knew, but hearing you say it was the shit.

He pushed into you with a grunt, and it was difficult.  He didn’t make it. Your cunt squeezed him out.

“Ffffuck, y/n. You’re practically closed down.  Is it true?”  

He started rocking his tip into your pussy slowly, both regretting and reveling in the fact that he didn’t stretch you out with his fingers beforehand.  Then he decided that he wanted you to feel this fully.

You couldn’t answer, only responding with moans has he painfully breached you. You welcomed it, though.

“Ah, ah, ah, ah… yes Chris.  Only you.. Since you and I….”  Talking about it and the fact that you were taking him again made you wetter, and eased Chris’s way, although your pussy was already stinging with his girth. Your eyes rolled back in your head.

You would never get over this and were so grateful for the feeling again.  

Chris watched you and had to grit his teeth to hold back from the reality that he was taking you again. 

He leaned over you, hot breath huffing in your ear, puffing and groaning as he fucked you slowly.  He was trying to feel every sensation. He wanted you to know that each and every millimeter of your glorious wet, tight pussy was his.

‘Ohhhh. Fuck Chris… YESSSS!”  Your voice echoed off the concrete walls, and Chris wanted you louder.

“This what you wanted?  You wanted your thick cock inside you again. Hunh?  You wanted me to stretch your walls and fuck you raw, hunh?”  He started speeding up in time with your moans.

“Such a fucking filthy cockslut for me, baby.”  Chris grabbed your neck from the back. “Why didn’t you let Kevin hit, hunh?”  

You didn’t answer, you just moaned and Chris smacked your ass, hard.

“Chris! Fuck!”  

You screamed. You missed his ruthlessness when you fucked, you missed him making sure that you knew that he knew that you knew. You belonged to him. 

 “Please!”

“I know why.” 

Chris stopped fucking you and pressed down harder on your back, reaching around to find your clit.  He swirled around it once, then started to press down slowly. 

“Because you would never beg him for that subpar dick that he has. You’re MY whore. You belong to me.”

He pressed down roughly, and you detonated around his dick.  He didn’t have to move.  Chris pulled out, leaving you cold and bereft.

You turned around and leaned up against the hood, panting and still desperate for him.  He stood there in front of you, dick sticking out of his pants, which were ruined, and still rock hard and ready. He was in a quiet rage.

“Why did you leave me?” 

You searched his face.  He sounded like he was about to cry.  You couldn’t quite see his entire face, but his eyes shone, bright with liquid.  You went toward him.

“You hurt me Chris.  I couldn’t stay. But let me take care of you now.”

You got on your knees in front of him, the hard concrete of the parking structure digging into your knees.  

Again, you welcomed the physical pain, distracting you from what you were doing to Kevin, to Chris, and to yourself.

Chris felt like he could fly.  You on your knees for him again was a dream. 

He took his cock in his hand, stroking it, while moving close to you. In no time, the back of your head was in his palm, and you opened wide to accept him, hand coming up to stroke what you couldn’t fit.

“Ah, ah. Let me.”  

You looked up at him to see an evil grin shine down on you. 

Chris looked down on an angel trying to swallow him whole. He brushed the tears away from your eyes as you struggled to breathe. You were perfection.

Moaning around him, you relaxed your mouth and throat and let him use you.  It was difficult, because you were out of practice, but you welcomed the letting go of all thought. 

You dripped down your thighs as Chris pumped into you, ready to accept what he had to give. 

After a few minutes, he stopped, and pulled out, grabbing you up to your feet. 

Then he bent down and grabbed you by the back of your thighs and you wrapped your legs around his waist, kissing him and trying to grind down on his still-erect cock as he backed you to the car.

Your ass hit the hood, and Chris reached between you to first tear your panties off. He put them in his pocket as he swiped his dick up and down your dripping wet folds.  

He looked back up to watch your face as he pushed inside you, now, an easier path to nirvana.

He pulsed as he watched the pleasure take over your face, with your mouth slack and your eyes glassed over. This was his main purpose in life and he almost lost it.

He brought his hand up to bring you closer, breathed into your mouth as he squeezed your throat. You were high instantly, and clamped down on his cock as your body was wracked with waves of pleasure.

Chris let your body descend back down to the car as he pumped his seed into you, his mind fantasizing that he was impregnating you. 

He shook your body as the last ropes of cum spurted out of him. He ran his hand down your body as he pulled out, zipping up his pants as you came back to your senses on the hood of the car.

You stared at the stars as you realized what you had done.  You sat up and adjusted your dress, gingerly climbing back down to the ground.  

Chris kissed you on the forehead, and this time you let him get into the driver’s seat. You got in the passenger side and Chris reached into the glovebox and handed you some wet wipes.

“Fix your face. And your knees.” 

He nodded down to your legs, which were dirty from the parking structure floor.  He watched you wipe your knees off, but stopped you as you went higher.

“No. I want you to feel me all night long.”  

You wanted to be a brat, but you didn’t feel like sass right about now. You felt kinda terrible.

You got another wet wipe and fixed your makeup as best you could as Chris drove you back to the restaurant.

“Chris, I…”

“I know.  None of that meant that we’re back together.  That was for some kind of something, I dunno, something Kevin might have done?” 

You looked down, ashamed. Chris lifted your chin up with his hand.

“I want you to come to me on your own.  You’ve gotten that out of your system, and I’m glad to be of service.”  You looked up into his eyes and at his wry smile.

“But remember, you still have a choice. I’m here if you choose me.”  

He leaned over and gave you a tender kiss in front of the restaurant.

You smiled at him and climbed out of the car, watching as he drove off.

Chris’s heart was beating out of his chest as he watched you turn and go back inside. He fought the urge to turn around. It was better this way.

----

You walked in the restaurant, and pulled Kevin over to the side of the restaurant in dark alcove. 

“Listen. Do you still want to marry me?”

He looked you up and down, taking in your state, from the faint marks on your neck to your scuffed knees.  He knew exactly what was up.

You raised an eyebrow at him.  

-----

Three hours later, a sleepy Chris answered the doorbell in Brooklyn.

He smiled at you, in the Captain America t-shirt and jeans that you’d stolen from him after a photoshoot, looking like his favorite Disney princess. You.

You took him in, clad in grey sweatpants that hung off his magnificently cut body.  He blinked at you sleepily.

“The wedding is off. Chris, I….”

He reached out and grabbed you, pulling you in the brownstone and shutting the door behind you.  He had you pinned up against the wall as you tried to speak.

“Shut up and let me taste you.”  

You grinned and wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you upstairs.

--- 

The next morning, Chris was on the phone with Scott.

“Yes, tell the workers at the warehouse to dump all the products….I don’t care, the river, the landfill…. Y/N can’t find out that I bought up all her stock…. We’re going to be married..... I know what the fuck I’m doing Scott. We leave for Aruba this afternoon. Listen, I’ll call you later.”

Chris hung up and turned to find you in the doorway, frowning and rubbing your eyes.  

“We’re going to Aruba?”  

You smiled and yawned, sleepily stretching.  That was all that you’d heard of the conversation.

Chris gave you his stunner smile.  

“Yes. It was going to be a surprise.” 

He reached down and swung you up in his arms, carrying you into the bathroom bridal style.

“Now let’s get in the shower.  You’ve been very naughty, gotta get you clean for your wedding day.”

You giggled as you relaxed in Chris’s arms. “It takes two to be naughty, Chris.”

He winked at you as he turned on the shower. “Don’t I know it.”

-----

I know it’s different. Let me know if you like it. Like, comment, reblog! 

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[cinnaminsvga]

a love that endures | Yoongi

→ summary: 

“Oh come on! Just go say hi to him already,” Seokjin huffs. He wiggles his eyebrows, striking you with the urge to shave them off in retaliation. “I could feel your ‘God, I miss his dick’ vibes from across the room!”

“I do not emit dick thirst vibes,” you respond hotly, swatting him in the tit. You pause, considering. “Wait, but do you think he misses my p—”

“Say no more,” Seokjin interrupts, a wicked smirk gracing his lips. His gaze is fixed somewhere behind you, but you have a sinking suspicion you know why he looks like he’s won the lottery. “Speaking of the devil, look who’s coming over to say hello!”

{or alternatively: Yoongi and Y/N. Y/N and Yoongi. High school sweethearts that were never meant to last, until a reunion ten years later manages to reignite a flame that never quite burnt out.} 

→ genre: high school reunion!au, exes to lovers, fluff, humor, minor angst → warnings: shy!yoongi and shy!oc live rent free in my brain, mutual pining is poggers, hoseok and seokjin aren’t evil for once in a cinnaminsvga fic, implied smut so it’s pg-13 because i’m a wimp → words: 14.4K → a/n: SHE’S ALIVE!! this is dedicated to @himbeaux-joon​ who commissioned this piece ages ago. thank you again for requesting this because this was honestly so much fun to write. i’ve been in a bit of writing slump these past few weeks but this fic came out so easily and got way longer than expected (perhaps because it’s about yoongi and he’s always been the easiest one to write for me). enjoy!! ;o;

The mere sight of him is enough to knock the wind out of you.

Your body freezes, the hand curled around your paper cup filled with punch tightening ever so slightly. It isn’t like you’re surprised that he came; you aren’t supposed to be. Of course, you should have expected his arrival, but you’ve been hoping all night that he might have been too busy to attend.

He isn’t even on time—it has almost been two hours since the event started and you had been filled with a false hope that perhaps he had RSVP’d and decided he couldn’t make it. 

You had seen Hoseok, his best friend from your younger days, standing outside the entrance of the ballroom before they had started letting people in. The moment Hoseok saw you, he immediately came over to sweep you into a tight hug, his infectious laughter ringing in your ears. He had greeted you happily, expressing how much he missed you since high school, but never once bringing up the elephant in the room.

It wasn’t like you were going to bring him up first. No, that would be weird on your part. Nevermind the fact that going to high school reunions was a recipe for reliving past traumas and seeing all your childhood friends either married or pregnant—you weren’t going to be that person who asked where their ex was. You refused to be the person craning their neck to spy on the entrance every two minutes, hoping to catch sight of an old familiar face.

The problem is that you are that person, and you kind of hate yourself for it. However, it is also the reason why you are probably the only person in the entire ballroom who notices his quiet arrival.

He has never liked causing commotions, which is often apparent from the way he conducts himself. He walks into the room just as a loud round of applause breaks out; an old schoolmate of yours is walking up to the podium, probably the person who had arranged the get-together in the first place. It is a perfect distraction for him as he slinks past the door, keeping near the wall so as not to be seen by anyone just yet.

(Except he has been seen—he just doesn’t know it yet.)

You do not know for how long you stare at him, just that it takes you a moment to realize you haven’t taken a breath since he stepped foot into the same space as you. You take a deep, shuddering breath, forcing your racing heartbeat to calm down. You swallow thickly, throat so unbearably dry that even drinking from your lukewarm cup of punch doesn’t seem to do anything.

But the undeniable truth is there, standing only a few meters away from you, and nothing on earth will be able to wash away the nerves flooding through your system.

After ten years of radio silence, Min Yoongi is in your orbit once again.

In the grand scheme of things, ten years wasn’t all that long. Four years in university had passed by in a blur, and the absolute chaos that ensued right after you graduated as you scrambled to secure a job and move out of your hometown had made the days seem shorter than they actually were. You had not even noticed that time was passing until you found that cream envelope waiting for you one day after work, your alma mater’s school crest painfully recognizable even after all these years.

During all that time, the world around you shifted without you noticing, and that meant people were changing too.

Yoongi is 28 now. And so are you, after many months of denial. You have not seen each other since you were both 18—both of you far too young to know about any of the things you would experience in the next ten years.

He might have grown a little taller since then, something you are sure that your brother will find amusing. His hair isn’t dyed like you remembered, as he has opted to keep it his natural dark black that you have not seen since you were both in middle school. It’s styled differently too: combed over and gelled back, with his bangs pushed back and his forehead exposed. When he turns his head to the side, a gasp spills past your lips before you can stop it.

“Is that a fucking undercut?” you mutter in shock, your eyes straining out of their sockets as you try to drink him in. Even under the dim lighting of the ballroom, his new haircut is hard to miss. No one else seems to be undergoing the same mental collapse as you, judging by how everyone’s attention is still fixated on the person speaking at the podium. How the hell is no one else losing their fucking minds to the sight of Min Yoongi with a fucking undercut? Some questions are impossible to answer, you surmise.

When you decided to attend the reunion, you had not once thought about how Yoongi would look like. Somehow, you had developed this stagnant picture of him in your head, even after all these years. To you, he will always be the boy with the stark blonde hair, the mismatched eyelids, the pouty lips, the dumpling cheeks. He is the boy who can’t wear his own contact lenses to save his life, the boy who sometimes wears his favorite leather jacket to sleep, the boy who only drinks Americanos like it was water.

Gone are those days, you realize. That image of him has been smashed to pieces, instead replaced by this dashing (and incredibly hot) man—a stranger. A stranger with unbleached (and healthy) hair, a jawline sharp enough to cut glass. He has his glasses kept away, and there is no leather jacket in sight.

But you can see him, if you look hard enough. The same spark in his eye, the same curve of his lips. You catch him smiling for a second, and his cheeks still puff up like dough. Maybe it’s just hopeless thinking, but you see him. It’s still him. To you, he will always be your 18-year-old Min Yoongi, the one who would greet you with a sweet kiss on the forehead every time you would—

Raucous applause breaks you from your train of thought, and you blink rapidly in surprise. You have to forcibly pull yourself out of your Yoongi-induced trance, clapping alongside everyone without really knowing what was going on. All of the extra noise sounds like buzzing in your ears, especially when it is drowned out by the roar of your blood rushing to your head all at once.

“Once again, I’d like to thank you all for coming tonight. We will begin the program right after dinner, so please feel free to help yourselves to the buffet! Cheers everyone!” You faintly hear your old schoolmate speak, before her voice is quickly overrun by the commotion of people walking over to the extravagant display of food. It takes a moment for the crowd of heads to disperse, so when you can finally look back to where you last saw Yoongi, he is no longer alone.

Hoseok has his arm slung around Yoongi, his infectious laughter loud enough to be heard over clinking plates and silverware. The two are as different as night and day, with Hoseok practically bouncing from excitement and Yoongi rolling his eyes from annoyance. But it is easy to see that his pout is nothing but a ruse; you can already catch the beginnings of a smile tugging at his lips.

You feel your own seams breaking, unwittingly sporting a grin of your own. It is nice to know that Yoongi hasn’t been alone all this time, that he still seems close with his old best friend. You cannot count the number of friendships that you have lost over time, and you still grieve many of them during your quiet moments. Alas, it was often never even anyone’s fault, the strains of adulthood often being the biggest deal breakers in your relationships.

That is, of course, except for one.

“Enjoying yourself? I didn’t think we’d share the same voyeuristic tendencies,” says a voice, creeping up behind you. Now, normal people would not usually expect other sane people to invade your personal space and breathe directly into your ear, but that’s just your humble opinion. What you do know is that one certain individual enjoys breaking the mold when it comes to societal norms, and it is none other than…

“Jesus fucking Christ!” You shriek, nearly sucker-punching the offending degenerate in the face. You hold back your fist from connecting with his face, but your resulting irritation remains. Whether that irritation is because you regret holding back or not will unfortunately also have to remain unanswered. “Oh God, it’s you.”

“Oh, no need for that. Most people usually call me Seokjin,” he snickers, thoroughly enjoying your flushed face. Kim Seokjin pats you on the shoulder, his trademark “pretty boy” smile still as radiant as you remembered. It does nothing to quell your urge to raise your fists again, however. “Hello, Y/N. Fancy seeing you here!”

“The feeling is not mutual,” you snort. Much like how Yoongi was with Hoseok, your derision is nothing but a rouse. As much as you want to kick Seokjin in the nuts, you also cannot ignore how much you want to hug him the slimy bastard—but you definitely will not be the first one to admit it. So like the tsundere that you are, you decide to insult him instead. “Why are you here? You’re not even from this class. Don’t you have other things to do? Or rather, people to do?”

“My heart! You wound me,” he gasps, grasping his chest as though he’d been shot. “How could you say that to your best friend in the entire world? Don’t you know how much I missed you?”

“Easy. I do it because the only other alternative would lead me straight to prison,” you shrug, but your grin betrays you.

This time, you don’t jolt away when he closes in for a hug. “And I guess I miss you too,” you say, your words slightly muffled into his chest. Like always, he sees through your prickly act because as much as you like to pretend, Kim Seokjin is kind of amazing—loose bolts and all.

“It’s nice to know that your tongue hasn’t lost its edge, though I suppose I wouldn’t be intimately knowledgeable in that area. After all, I still am very much a raging homosexual and pussy isn’t really my forte,” Seokjin guffaws, his volume causing a few nearby guests to raise their heads in alarm.

You bow at them, sheepishly apologizing on his behalf before grabbing him by the collar.

“Will you stop being embarrassing for just one second? I swear, I thought I retired from my babysitting job when I graduated high school,” you hiss, but the way his mouth curls up with mischief is answer enough. God, you missed this son of a bitch.

“Unfortunately for you, being a pest is part of my DNA,” he smirks, carefully plucking your hands off from his neck, as though your nails were not mere inches away from ripping his trachea into pieces. “Though, I am offended by your assumption that I am still the same slut that you knew. I’ve grown up a little, you know! I’m a changed man!”

“Oh, please. Don’t tell me you of all people have settled down,” you laugh, not missing the way Seokjin’s perfectly stenciled brow raises slightly.

“I know we haven’t seen each other since Christmas, but come on Y/N! You of all people should be applauding me for my improved behavior! You must have noticed how much I changed when I visited.”

“When you visited me last Christmas, you immediately insulted my taste in kitchen towels, went on Grindr to find a hookup despite my numerous pleas, and promptly desecrated my guest bedroom that no housekeeper or priest is willing to exorcise to this day,” you gag, shuddering at the memory. “And then you ate all my ice cream and proceeded to clog my toilet!”

“Um? Aren’t you forgetting that I also bought you that dress you wanted? Rude,” Seokjin retorts, not the least bit remorseful. “Well, that’s what you get for agreeing to be my best bitch for life. You know that I take pinky promises very seriously.”

Unfortunately, he does take his promises seriously. It is probably the only thing he’ll ever be serious about, as much as the man enjoys parading his depravity. “Okay, whatever. I’ll bite. Who’s the unlucky man you’ve managed to deceive into a relationship?”

“Oh, it’s someone we both used to know. I’m his plus one for tonight,” he says, supplying you with the most useless non-answer imaginable.

“Seokjin. We’re at a high school reunion. We know everyone here. That could be anyone!” you exclaim.

“Well, isn’t that fun? Then we can do a scavenger hunt!” Seokjin grins, clapping his hands together excitedly. He pulls you in front of him, forcing the two of you to survey the crowd. “Okay, hold your arm out like this—” After a few seconds of you failing to resist him, he manages to get you to unfurl your finger as if you were about to order something from the dollar menu at McDonalds. Unfortunately for you, the tall twink is stronger than he appears. “—and just keep pointing around until I tell you that you’re getting warmer!”

“Seokjin, I don’t think this is very—” you start, but Seokjin is already moving your arm for you. Like a hurricane, Kim Seokjin listens to no one but his own homewrecking whims.

“Park Chanyeol? Close, but not really. You should know that I don’t double dip with past flings,” he says, shifting you to the left. “Kim Namjoon? Now that’s a hunk of meat that I wish I’d taken a bite of, but unfortunately he’s as straight as a ruler. Pass,” he hums, continuing to move you bit by bit.

You’re both getting uncomfortably close to where Yoongi is, and Seokjin doesn’t appear to be stopping any time soon. You did notice that Yoongi had come dateless to the reunion (a fact, by the way, that you did not rejoice over when you had noticed), but that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s single. You have known Seokjin for more than a decade at this point, and despite your odd friendship, you are sure that he would never do anything to hurt you on purpose.

Though, that does beg the question… How far does his dick thirst really go? Maybe you’ll finally find out today.

“Warmer, getting warmer…” Seokjin inches you closer and closer to where Yoongi is standing. You feel frozen in his grasp, unsure if you wanted to know anymore. If Seokjin really is dating Yoongi, then what? It’s not like you were dating him anyway… What difference does it make if it’s Seokjin?

(It makes all the difference, but you refuse to think about it.)

“Nope, not Wonho... A little bit to the left… Bingo!” Seokjin declares, stopping your finger right on— “No, Y/N! Stop moving! You’ve gone too far to the wall! I was pointing at him.”

“H-Hoseok? You’re dating Hoseok?!” You squeak, an avalanche of relief flooding through you. You don’t even have the energy to pretend to be composed as your entire body starts untensing involuntarily, your shoulders slumping as though a weight has been lifted from you. “Why couldn’t you have just told me like a normal person? Why must everything be tortuous and dramatic when it comes to you?”

“I am a naturally insufferable and theatrical person. Sue me,” he shrugs, greatly enjoying the exhausted look on your face. “What? Were you actually scared that I was dating your sloppy seconds? What do you think I am? An asshole?”

You stare at him. “Is that a rhetorical question?”

Seokjin scoffs. “If I wanted to get roasted, I would approach two tops at a gay bar.” He pauses. “Wait, are you seriously not going to congratulate me for finally snagging a boy who has a functioning moral compass?”

“Define ‘snagging.’ Did you, like, tie him up and blackmail him to become your boyfriend like those terrible One Direction Wattpad fanfics, or—” You stop halfway, giggling at your friend’s unamused pout. “Okay, okay. Yes, Seokjin. I am very proud of you. Congrats on finally becoming an adult. Your hoe days are over.”

“Who said they were over?” He snorts. Noticing your alarm, Seokjin rolls his eyes in exasperation. “Oh, don’t give me that look! I’m not into infidelity and you know that. I just meant that I’m still a hoe with significantly fewer options.”

“How did that even happen in the first place?” you say, jabbing your thumb in Hoseok’s direction. Thankfully, the man in question is still busy talking to Yoongi, though you don’t know for how much longer. If Seokjin isn’t lying, then there’s a high chance they’re going to walk over to say hi and you’re not sure if you’re mentally prepared to go through the five stages of grief all over again.

“Believe me, I’m surprised as well. I started dating Hoseok after he asked me for help with his sister’s wedding gift. He asked me to help arrange an itinerary for her sister’s honeymoon in America,” Seokjin explains with a dreamy smile. He sighs, holding a hand up to his chest. You can physically see the heart emojis circling his head like a halo. “We hit it off from there and dare I say… Not only is he the only person who can keep up with my high maintenance lifestyle, but dear Lord, he could totally be recruited into the NDA for his astounding dick game—”

“Ever heard of TMI? Gross,” you interrupt, your face crumpling in disgust. You shove him away when his loud cackles start rattling your eardrums.

“You were scared though, right?” he says through his giggles. “When you thought that I was dating Yoongi?”

Of course Seokjin had noticed your mini-mental breakdown, judging from the shit-eating grin on his face.

“N-no,” you stutter, but your heated cheeks and averted gaze give you away. “E-either way, I wouldn’t have cared if you did!” you say. You know, like a liar.

“I bet you don’t care that Yoongi got significantly hotter in the past ten years too, huh?” Seokjin teases, snickering loudly. Under the harsh lighting of the fluorescent chandelier lights, you might have mistaken the boy in front of you for the devil instead of your best friend of almost twenty years.

“I sincerely rue the day I introduced myself to you in the third grade,” you hiss, sipping from your cup to hide your humiliation.

“Aww, you’re so cute when you’re all embarrassed,” Seokjin coos, pinching your cheeks with the gentleness of an ape. You slap his hand away, unable to think of any retort.

“Cat got your tongue? You didn’t even deny it when I accused you,” Seokjin laughs. He claps his hands jovially, acting as though he’s enjoying a show at the circus. Given your performance tonight, that statement isn’t all that far from reality.

“I don’t need to defend myself from you,” you say, puffing your cheeks indignantly. “I just… think he looks handsome. Is that illegal or something?”

“Certainly not. Though, you might want to dial down the pining a teensy bit,” he singsongs. “That’s how I found you in the first place. I sensed your pining from a mile away and came as soon as I could!”

“I wasn’t pining!” you exclaim. “I was just… admiring the plant beside him.”

“Right, sure,” Seokjin says, arching an eyebrow in challenge. You feel your hackles rising at his smug expression, your ‘Seokjin-is-about-to-ruin-your-life’ alarm ringing in your ears. “So, you wouldn’t mind if I brought you over there to say hello? After all, my boyfriend is over there and as much as I enjoy pestering you, I also want to be with him very much.”

You whistle lowly, impressed. “Wow, that’s actually kind of sweet of you.”

“Yes, I know. Kim Seokjin’s heart grew three sizes that day, yada yada yada.” Seokjin says sarcastically, but his lovesick smile ruins the effect. When he opens his mouth once more, the mirage instantly disappears. “But you would understand if you saw how much he’s packing—”

“Shut up, I didn’t ask—”

“Fine, then let’s ask the man himself! Besides, you know you’re being ridiculous, right?” Seokjin tuts, annoyed. He fixes you with a glare, making you feel like a scolded child. “It’s just Yoongi. You and I both know he doesn’t have a mean bone in his body and probably would love to see you after so long.”

You wave your hands around helplessly, almost sloshing your drink onto a nearby bystander. After muttering a meek apology at your harried classmate, you turn back to Seokjin with a defeated sigh.

You know that he’s right, and you absolutely hate him for it. “Jinnie, I’m a mess! I can hardly think with Yoongi standing meters away from me, much less if he were to stand right in front of me! I’m just going to embarrass myself,” you lament, holding your head in your hand.

“That’s true. You will definitely embarrass yourself,” Seokjin hums, nodding sagely. He shrugs his shoulders. “All the more reason we should do it. Relax, I’ll be your wingman like old times! All we have to do is remind him of all the fantastic, mind-blowing coitus you had in your youth and he’ll be a goner for sure.”

“If by goner, you mean he’ll be gone from my life permanently this time, then you’re right,” you groan. You have a half a mind to dump the remainder of your disgusting punch all over his expensive Bottega Veneta coat, though you also don’t want to spend the next three months receiving packaged turds from Seokjin in your mailbox. “Please, just let me suffer in silence for the remainder of the night, okay? Is that really too much to ask?”

“Oh come on! Just go say hi to him already,” Seokjin huffs. He wiggles his eyebrows, striking you with the urge to shave them off in retaliation. “I could feel your ‘God, I miss his dick’ vibes from across the room!”

“I do not emit dick thirst vibes,” you respond hotly, swatting him in the tit. You pause, considering. “Wait, but do you think he misses my p—”

“Say no more,” Seokjin interrupts, a wicked smirk gracing his lips. His gaze is fixed somewhere behind you, but you have a sinking suspicion you know why he looks like he’s won the lottery. “Speaking of the devil, look of who’s coming over to say hello!”

Swiveling around, you see that your intuition is right: Yoongi and Hoseok are swiftly making their way through the crowd, one of them appearing to be more enthusiastic than the other. You swallow thickly, your palms growing damp as they get closer to where the two of you stand.

"Seokjin, we gotta go!" you hiss, but your panic goes largely ignored as your best friend leaves you to envelop his lover in a dramatic embrace.

The two men exchange teary and heartfelt touches, acting as if they had been separated by years of war instead of the meager minutes they had spent apart to greet their long-time friends.

"My honeybunch! Oh, how I've missed you so much!" Seokjin cries, nuzzling his nose into Hoseok's neck. You might have mistaken him for a vampire with how aggressively he sniffs Hoseok's skin. Had Seokjin been 5% more unhinged, you do not doubt that he might have started suckling on his boyfriend like a leech.

"Oh, hyung. It's barely been an hour, but why does it feel like it has been forever?" Hoseok sighs forlornly, jaw clenching as though he's in pain. He croaks out a sob, lifting Seokjin in the air and spinning him around. "My love, let us never part again!"

You take a few steps away from them, trying to make it apparent to all the bewildered onlookers that you have nothing to do with homosexual Tweedledee and Tweedledum.

"What kind of shitty production is this? I want my money back," you murmur, fake-gagging behind the two of them. The lovesick fools pay no mind to your disgust; in fact, they seem to relish in it. Their efforts double, their theatrical kissy-smoochy sound effects causing goosebumps to form on your arms. "Seriously, I've had enough of this and I've only been forced to witness it for two seconds."

"Tell me about it," says a voice to your left. Startled, you nearly let out a shocked gasp when you realize that Yoongi had found his way by your side, his own disgusted gaze fixed on the bumbling buffoons still lost in their world. He glances at you for a second, quirking his lips into a small smile. "Hey, Y/N."

In just six words, Min Yoongi manages to make time grind to a halt. You gape at him, your brain ceasing in function. It takes you a full minute to realize that the man standing beside you is not a figment of your imagination. You had been so caught up in the absurdity of the situation that for a moment you had forgotten that Yoongi is a real person.

It's Yoongi, your first love. The person you haven't seen or spoken to in years. The man who has haunted your dreams for over a decade. He's standing right beside you, and he's smiling at you. He's here, he's hot, and he's saying hello.

Like the incredibly eloquent and profound person that you are, you reply: "Yellow!"

You had meant to say "Yoongi, hello!" like a normal person, but your brain had amalgamated your words during its rebooting process. And so, you are left standing there silently, frozen by your embarrassment. You swear you can hear a pin drop as you beg for the earth to swallow you whole.

Unfortunately for you, the floor remains painfully tangible beneath your feet, forcing you to clear your throat and expound on your mystifying exclamation. Yoongi watches you with curious eyes, patiently waiting for you to speak.

"W-what I meant to say is, uh," you stammer, your cheeks heating up to an alarming degree. "Those yellow streamers are pretty tacky, don't you think?"

Nice one. In terms of comebacks, you would personally give yourself a C for effort. (Note: C stands for "Can I please shove a fist up my ass and crabwalk the fuck out of here?")

Yoongi contemplates the tacky decorations in question, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, I guess. They pretty much look like the stuff we'd make in elementary school during Arts and Crafts." He points to your mutual friends, grimacing in annoyance. "Them, on the other hand? No child should ever come into contact with those heathens."

"You're right," you snort, shaking your head.

There is a long and awkward pause. Yoongi clears his throat, swaying from side to side while staring at his shoes. You aren't any better, twiddling your thumbs as you will your cheeks to stop flushing. Your senses are practically screaming at you to run away and hide forever, but your limbs feel disjointed from the rest of you.

It's like we're at the zoo on a date and the monkeys won't stop fucking each other, your mind unhelpfully supplies, offering you an image that will permanently make its home on the backs of your eyelids.

Desperate to break the silence, eventually you say, "Hey, Yoongi—"

Right at the same time, Yoongi says, "Hey, Y/N—"

Another pause, but this one is slightly less tense. The two of you share a nervous laugh, though yours sounds a little bit more hysterical. You motion for him to speak first.

"I, uh... wanted to say that you look great. Yeah. Like, you haven't aged a day at all. N-not to say that I don't think you've matured or..." Yoongi stumbles over his words, his voice cracking.

Instead of feeling relieved that he's just as nervous as you, his anxiety only exacerbates your own. There's a reason you have never been good at public speaking, and this is a good example of why:

"No! I get what you mean, don't worry about it," you laugh, on the verge of a mental breakdown. What the fuck is this conversation, even? "You look exactly the same too. Umm... Of course, except for the, uh, hair?"

"Oh, you mean the gray hairs?"

"No, no! Of course not! I m-meant your hair looks really hot—I mean good! It looks GOOD," you repeat, frantically emphasizing the last bit. You had instinctively panicked, your voice rising in pitch.  If your cheeks weren't flaming hot already, then they're definitely redder than Seokjin's ass after a Friday night of fun.

The apples of Yoongi's cheek match your own flustered state, though you can imagine that you’re probably at least a hundred times worse. “Well, thank you. I was actually feeling self-conscious about my hair, so hearing that from you is really… nice,” he says, brushing his hair shyly. “I’m kinda done with bright colored hair for now, so seeing my hair in its natural state is still kind of weird.”

“I seriously doubt that Y/N was talking about your hair color, Yoongi,” Hoseok interjects, magically reappearing behind you when you don’t notice. You flinch in surprise, causing him to let out a hearty chuckle at your jumpiness. It seems that today is “Let’s scare the living shit out of Y/N” day with how many people have crept up on you in just one night.

Beside him, Seokjin looks like a bomb ready to explode, his fist jammed up his mouth to keep his guffaws from slipping out. “God, this is even better than the cringe compilations I watch on Youtube,” he wheezes, wiping a stray tear.

“Don’t be so mean to them, hyung! Don’t mind him,” Hoseok says to you, bowing apologetically. He smiles cherubically at Yoongi. “See, Yoongi? I told you that Y/N is even hotter up close!”

“God, fucking kill me,” you hear Yoongi groan.

“So, have you guys caught up yet, or have you just been fumbling around each other like a couple of horny teenagers?” Seokjin snickers, narrowly avoiding your heel stomping his foot.

“We’ve only just said hello. Leave us alone, jackass,” you huff.

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Well, Hoseok and I can go on our merry ways if you wish—”

“Yoongi! Did you tell Y/N about your work back in Seoul? I bet she’d love to hear about it,” Hoseok interrupts smoothly, saving you from further embarrassment (courtesy of his infuriating goblin of a boyfriend.)

You blink in surprise, turning to the man in question. “You live in Seoul now? Did you move there after finishing university?” you ask.

“Well,” Yoongi starts, clearing his throat. He’s permanently pink at this point, not that you mind in the slightest. He always did have the cutest blush (and once upon a time, you used to love teasing him about it.) “I sort of dropped out of university early. Decided it wasn’t really my thing, you know?”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Yoongi. You were a fantastic student. I’m sure Y/N remembers how smart you are,” Hoseok says, winking inconspicuously at you.

You force out a laugh in response. You know perfectly well what he was trying to do; Hoseok isn’t slick in the slightest, though you do admit that you are intrigued to find out what Yoongi had done over the years.

It isn’t like you haven’t been keeping tabs on him. In your defense, it’s hard to stay away from news about Yoongi when he’s such a big deal. So what if you’ve watched a couple of his interviews and streamed all of his songs? He’s always been talented with music, and all the radio shows seem to agree. You couldn’t get away from him if you tried (and it’s not like you were trying very hard, anyway.)

Yoongi shrugs, rubbing his neck bashfully. “E-either way, I decided to tough it out, you know? Follow my dreams and all that, even if it nearly killed me.”

“And now, he’s working in a famous idol company as one of their head producers,” Hoseok finishes for him, chest puffing up in pride. He slaps his best friend on the back, not noticing that he had inadvertently caused Yoongi's spine to cave in from his strength. “Yoongi is so cool, and humble too! He’s been working behind the scenes for a bunch of big names and never got greedy for attention even though he totally deserves it.”

“Damn, so no street cred? Bit schewpid, innit? Imagine all the chicks you could’ve landed, bruv!” Seokjin says, imitating a terrible British accent. You make a move to hit him in the groin, but for once, Hoseok beats you to the punch.

“Nope! Yoongi-chi is super single, aren’t you?” Hoseok says with a sweet grin, ignoring the pained groans of his lover on the floor.

“No need to rub it in, Seok-ah,” Yoongi grumbles defensively. He coughs into his fist, grinding his foot into the floor. He throws a glance your way. “Just been… too busy, I guess.”

From the floor, Seokjin holds up a hand, grasping at Hoseok’s pant leg to hoist himself up. “What a coincidence. Y/N is super single too. In fact, her pussy is so dry that there’d be no chance for any yeast infections to develop—WAIT, DON’T HIT ME AGAIN I PROMISE I’LL BEHAVE!” Seokjin is on his knees, holding his arms up in surrender as Hoseok’s boot is about to connect with his stomach.

“I know I said I was into BDSM, but not like this!” Seokjin says, faking a sob.

“Then behave, darling,” Hoseok replies, eyes lighting dangerously. When he returns his attention to you, you and Yoongi back away instinctively. “Sorry about him. We have an… arrangement,” he says, waving his hands vaguely.

“Understood,” you both say, not understanding but also not wanting to.

Seokjin manages to straighten up eventually, his skin slightly paler than it was before. “A-as I was saying,” he exhales, still gingerly cupping his crotch. “Y/N has been single for so long, but I don’t blame her. Not after that awful disaster of a boyfriend, right? God, Sungjae fucking sucked ass, and not even in the sexy way.”

“Um, yeah…” you say hesitantly, avoiding eye contact. You can feel Hoseok’s and Yoongi’s eyes trained on you, but you’re not confident enough to know that you can keep your face neutral.

With your gaze averted, you don’t notice the way Yoongi’s posture tenses. “Is that so,” he says carefully.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Hoseok says. You can hear the genuine sadness in his tone, and you chance a peek at him. He pats your shoulder gently, giving you a soft smile. “Honestly, I feel you. I’ve definitely been there, done that. That’s why I’m grateful for Seokjin-hyung, believe it or not. He’s been really good for me.”

“Hah, I told you I’m a good person!” Seokjin says. Again, he goes ignored.

“It’s fine. It’s all water under the bridge,” you say, shrugging. You can still feel Yoongi’s persistent gaze on the side of your head like a brand. You’re kind of afraid to see what sort of expression he has despite the curiosity burning inside of you.

You are still in the middle of debating if it’s worth explaining or not (and to a lesser extent, why you feel like you need to explain yourself to anyone), everyone’s attention is caught by the onslaught of waiters bringing in a fresh batch of food to the buffet. Your stomach growls in response, and you are reminded of the fact that you haven’t eaten since breakfast in preparation for tonight’s event.

“Hold that thought, Y/N,” Hoseok says, holding up a finger. “Hyung! I saw a platter of tuna belly and I know that shit is gonna disappear in two seconds. Let’s head out!” He tugs Seokjin in a hurry, the elder’s gangly legs flying about as he trips over himself to keep up. Seokjin yelps and hollers for him to slow down, but the hangry Hoseok train stops for no one. They run off, leaving Hoseok-and-Seokjin-shaped dust clouds in their wakes.

“Wow,” Yoongi says, dumbfounded. “Did we just get ditched by our two self-proclaimed best friends in the world?”

You nod, equally dumbfounded. “I guess we did.”

He shakes his head. “Fucking traitors.”

And just like that, the conversation dies.

Without your friends acting as buffers, the pair of you return to your painfully awkward states. You rack your brain for a conversation topic, anything to keep the tension at bay. You don’t feel nearly comfortable enough to ask him about his love life, even though you want nothing more than to shake the details right out of him. For perfectly sane reasons, of course.

Lucky for you, Yoongi thinks of a solution. “Um, I guess we should go grab our food as well? I’m assuming we’ll be sitting together since our friends are... you know. Unless you don’t want to, then that’s also perfectly fine with me. I can find somewhere else to sit.”

“I’d love to sit with you,” you say, cringing at your choice of words. Love to? What are you, desperate?! your brain screeches at you, and you mentally beat yourself in the coochie.

Deep down, you know that you’re overreacting, but you can’t help acting like a blushy teenager talking to your crush when you’re around Yoongi. It’s almost as if you’ve reverted to your high school days, back when you’d both started to notice your feelings for each other and the steady flow of butterflies erupting in your stomach had felt less like a burden and more like a revelation.

After tossing your disgusting drink into a nearby bin, you and Yoongi line up behind the rest of your classmates for the buffet, the scene reminiscent of having lunch at your old high school cafeteria. You’re still mildly distracted by Yoongi’s proximity, not looking at what food you were getting and randomly scooping and hoping you don’t dislike all of them.

From the corner of your eye, you notice that Yoongi’s plate is steadily piling up, probably with enough food to feed two people. You’ve never known Yoongi to be much of a heavy eater, but you suppose that free food is still free food at the end of the day.

“So,” Yoongi says after a beat. He pulls you from your trance, and you catch the small smile on his face that tells you that he figured you had been distracted. “How is Jungkook, by the way? He graduated from university a year ago or something, right?”

You pause, your hand stilling on the metal tongs. “How did you know he graduated last year?”

He shrugs. “Well, assuming that he didn’t take any gap years, I did the math and figured he should be at the age where he’s looking for a job.” He turns to you with a sly grin. “Plus, I’m still his friend on Facebook.”

“That’s surprising,” you comment. You backtrack a little, “And I mean it’s surprising in the sense that… All his posts are reshares from dank meme pages and I thought you wouldn’t be into that.”

Yoongi laughs. “I’m not. But… it’s nice to know how things are back home, I guess.”

Do you wonder about me, too? you think, but you internally shake your head. But why would he? He doesn’t owe you anything.

“And your dad? I heard he got hip surgery last fall,” Yoongi says.

“Wait, Jungkook has been posting about our dad’s surgery on his Facebook?”

“Oh! No, not exactly.” Yoongi clears his throat, suddenly nervous. He heaps a big portion of kimchi, some of it staining his sleeve. “I… called him a few days ago, to catch up.”

You’re staring at him, and you dimly register the people lined up behind you huffing impatiently. “You… called him? You have his cell number, too?”

“No, I just… happen to still have your home telephone number memorized and hoped that you guys hadn’t moved,” he says, a little guiltily.

You’re silent for a moment, thoughtlessly scooping more bean sprouts onto your plate than any sane person would be comfortable eating. The two of you inch along the buffet display as you attempt to process his sudden confession.

On one hand, you’re slightly betrayed that your own brother hadn’t thought to mention that your ex had called him, but on the other hand, what would you have done if he did? Ask if you could say hello? The Y/N from last month probably would have laughed if she had known that Min Yoongi still cared enough to call and check on her family, much less have her landline memorized even after all these years.

He still cared.

Unbeknownst to everyone in the room, your heart skips a beat at the thought. You cradle a hand to your chest, urging your nerves to quell. Keep it together, you beg your stupid, naive heart. You can survive one night without falling in love again, can’t you?

...can you?

“I…” you stammer. You swallow thickly, desperate for something to say, anything to stop your mind from going in the wrong direction. “They miss you, you know? You have no idea how many times my parents ask if you’re coming home for Christmas, or—I don’t know.”

“Yeah, my parents are the same. They always wanna know if I’m coming home for the holidays, and they,” he hesitates, swallowing thickly, “They always ask about you, too.”

Oh.

“Oh,” you mutter lamely. Your cheeks feel like they’ve been lit on fire the moment you got here, and you haven’t even visited the bar yet.

You finally make it to the end of the long buffet table where there is a large chocolate fountain just begging for you to ravage if only your stomach wasn’t besieged by butterflies. Yoongi glances at you, his own hands too full to get any desserts, but he still pauses as if he’s waiting for you. When you make it apparent you aren’t interested in the mouthwatering cakes and pastries (a big fat lie, but you also don’t want to vomit in front of him and your hundreds of schoolmates), he raises a brow as though he’s surprised.

“What? I’m not that much of a sweet tooth,” you scoff.

“This is coming from the girl who broke into her little brother’s piggy bank to buy some ice cream from a passing street vendor?” he teases.

“That’s the old me. Now, I make enough money to buy my own sweets,” you say smugly.

He rolls his eyes. “Whatever you say.” If you didn’t know any better, you might have thought he looked endeared.

The pair of you search for Hoseok and Seokjin, only to find that the couple had somehow found a table for all of you somewhere near the back. With one last longing glance at the wondrous chocolate fountain, you walk away with Yoongi in tow. You have to push through throngs of people, a few old familiar faces stopping to say hello before they notice the precarious situation on Yoongi’s plate and let you through. You wave at them, promising to greet them later before turning to Yoongi.

“Isn’t it kind of weird to see all these people again? Not gonna lie, it’s almost hard to recognize a few of them.” You note some of the crazy hair colors and drastic fashion choices that you never thought you’d see a decade ago. An even stranger sight, however, is the occasional schoolmates with little ones attached to their hips. You recognize one of the new parents, your mouth dropping in shock.

“Wait, is that Seulgi? And is that her—”

“Her son? Jesus Christ,” Yoongi mutters, equally as bewildered as you. “Damn, I did not expect her of all people to be one of the first to have a kid. I’d always thought it’d be Sooyoung.”

You nod in agreement. You observe the little boy tug roughly at her skirt, his tiny fists making grabbing motions at the cookies on her plate. “Yeah. I always thought I’d have a kid before Seulgi, at least. What a surprise.”

You speak before you think, and it takes longer than it should have for you to realize your mistake. By then, Yoongi’s expression had already morphed into astonishment, his eyes bugging out as he chokes on his spit.

Your cheeks are burning, your mouth opening and closing as pure panic seizes you. You cannot believe that you just said that! No fucking way! Did you eat lube this morning or something? Why are words just spilling out of your mouth at an unprecedented rate?! You’re begging your brain to come up with something, anything, to control the damage, but alas your thoughts remain resolutely frozen.

If aliens were to choose to study the human race right now, they’d be sorely disappointed to find the lack of intelligent lifeforms. No complex thoughts going on over here! Not one goddamn neuron firing in this bitch!

“O-oh, well, that’s…” he trails off. He clears his throat, his jaw clenched as he awkwardly tries to feign composure. “I didn’t know you were, um, interested? Well, n-not that I think you were averse to the idea of having kids, since I remember you mentioning it when we were, um,” he pauses, struggling to find a word other than dating, or together, or in love, or not painstakingly careful around each other, like every conversation topic was a fucking minefield.

“Younger?” you supply. A safe, neutral word. Yay for you! You deserve a snack from your animal care keeper right about now.

“Right,” he nods. He looks down at his shoes, revealing his flushed neck. He’s frustratingly adorable like this, but it does nothing except distract you. “Were you, um, planning on having a kid with your ex-boyfriend? Before you broke up?”

Ex-boyfriend? Why is he bringing him up all of a sudden? You stare at him in confusion for half a second before realization strikes you. Thankfully (or unthankfully), it seems that Yoongi misunderstands the implication behind your words and has taken your little slip-up the wrong way. For once, you are so thankful that Yoongi almost failed Math during the 10th grade and never learned to put two and two together.

“Definitely not,” you bark out a laugh, but it sounds incredibly forced, even to your own ears. You stare at the plate of food in your hands, a wave of unpleasant memories washing over you. “I doubt he’d ever want kids, anyway. Seokjin used to make fun of him and call him the world’s biggest toddler.”

Yoongi winces, his brow furrowing. “How long were you together?”

“Like, two years?” You shrug. “It felt longer, to be honest. Even if we dated for so long, I could never imagine myself having a family with him,” you say.

It was almost the truth, but not quite. While your ex-boyfriend had undoubtedly been a pain in your ass, he wasn’t completely bad, especially in the beginning. You had enough self-respect that you would have ended the relationship earlier if he didn’t have any redeeming qualities. The main problem was that he had a tough act to follow, and you don’t think any man on earth would be able to live up to your lofty expectations at this point, not when you’d constantly be comparing everyone to—

Yoongi speaks up again. “Seokjin seems to really dislike him. Was he really that bad?”

“Seokjin has never really liked any of my past flings,” you admit, rolling your eyes. (You fail to mention that Yoongi has always been the only exception.) “Despite his own disgustingly high body count, I can’t say he was wrong. Sungjae was a self-centered prick who never gave me the time of day. Hell, I was almost thankful when I caught him cheating. It was the final push I needed.”

Even though it’s been so long, the pain of seeing your ex-boyfriend locking lips with a stranger he had randomly picked up from the street still throbs inside of you. It wasn’t like you were particularly sad or surprised to find out, but you’d always been a bit sensitive to people who kept secrets from you. Plus, it kinda sucked to know that they had fucked on your favorite Egyptian cotton sheets.

“Fucking bastard. If I ever saw him in person, I’d definitely kick his nuts ‘til he’s left with a concave crotch,” he seethes, eyes narrowing.

You laugh. You have to confess that the mental image is satisfying. “You don’t even know what he looks like though!”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m sure Seokjin would tell me if I asked,” he huffs. He mutters something else after, but his volume drops to a whisper and you have to step closer to properly hear him.

“What? Sorry, I missed that,” you say, but you could have sworn he said something like “I wouldn’t have done that if it were me” but you couldn’t be completely sure.

“N-nothing,” he stutters, waving off your confusion. He tacks on a smile, but you can tell that he must have been embarrassed by whatever he’d said. If it was anything like what you thought he’d said, then you could understand. It wasn’t like he was wrong, anyway.

He makes a move to rub the back of his neck, but he greatly underestimates the weight of his platter and nearly drops everything. Something deep inside of you kicks in, and your body instinctively moves to hold his plate with your free hand, saving him from a very messy situation. However, that also means that your hands are now touching each other, your fingertips grazing his knuckles.

Instead of letting him go like a normal person, your ape brain makes the first move (as per usual).

“Your hands are still cold,” you say dumbly. You had wanted to say more, like “your hands are still as cold as they were from when we were younger,” but bringing up your past together, even for something so harmless, still feels taboo. You keep your hands where they are, your eyes locked on his. It feels like you’re in the middle of a dramatic TV show while I Will Go To You by Ailee plays in the background. You can almost imagine the numerous ads for random Korean cosmetic products framing the two of you in slow motion.

Yoongi chuckles, reluctantly pulling away from you. You already miss the sensation of his skin on yours. “I guess some things never change, huh?” he says, wavering slightly. He stares at you for another moment before shaking his head, as though he’s pushing away some unwelcome thoughts. He turns away, leaving you behind to make his way to your table.

Despite the unbidden emotions bubbling up your throat and threatening to spill over, you have no choice but to follow.

At the table, Seokjin and Hoseok speak mutely with each other, though the exaggerated expressions on both their faces tell you that they had been in the middle of an argument. When Yoongi takes his place beside Hoseok, the couple pauses in their bickering to greet you.

Hoseok looks at Yoongi’s overflowing plate. “Dude. I know I teased you about being a skinny twig a while ago, but I wasn’t implying that you gorge yourself.”

Yoongi jolts in surprise before staring back at his plate. Weirdly enough, he looks just as shocked as Hoseok to find the amount of food he had gotten, as though he hadn’t even noticed.

Perhaps he was just as distracted as you had been? you think, staring at your own meager pickings. Oops, you definitely didn’t get enough food to fill your ravenous appetite.

“That’s fine. I can share with you guys,” Yoongi says.

Seokjin peers at your plate, smirking knowingly. “Oh, yes. I’m sure Y/N would love to get some of your food. It seems like the two of you either over or underestimated how much you’d eat.”

“Aww, cute!” Hoseok coos, pinching Yoongi’s cheek. “You still have the habit of getting food for her. That’s so sweet that you still remember that about her!”

You had been in the middle of taking a swig of your water, but Hoseok’s comment nearly causes it to spew out from your nose. You cough harshly, beating your chest as your nose burns, among other things.

“Hoseok!” Yoongi scolds. He hits his friend on the shoulder, but Hoseok’s giggles refuse to stop.

“Oh shit, you’re totally right! Remember all those times when either one of us was forced to third-wheel with them?” Seokjin guffaws. “Y/N always orders something gross whenever we eat out together, and Yoongi ends up having to share half of his food with her when she starts moping.”

“I did not mope!” you retort vehemently.

“You kind of did,” Yoongi mutters under his breath, but you catch him this time.

You cross your arms, scowling. “Did not!”

Yoongi covers his mouth to fake a cough, but you can tell he’s smiling from how his eyes start to crinkle.

“You guys are so cute,” Hoseok sighs, squeezing Yoongi into a hug. Yoongi paws at him weakly, but you know that he enjoys skinship too much to push his friend away.  Still, he pouts cutely, his cheeks puffing up like a pastry.

“Anyway, why were you guys arguing a while ago?” Yoongi asks, changing the subject. “Seokjin-hyung is kinda red in the face.”

“Oh, we weren’t really arguing. Hyung had gotten some wine from the bar but he forgot to get me some,” Hoseok says. He glares sharply at Seokjin. “Bastard.”

“You just said we weren’t fighting!” Seokjin whines. He stands up, raising his arms in surrender. “But fine! I’ll go get your damn wine,” he sulks, groaning when he stretches his back and a few worrisome pops resound from his joints.

“Damn, hyung. I know I told you that I hope you grow up well when we were kids, but I didn’t think you’d take it that literally,” Yoongi jokes, earning a sharp laugh from you. Yoongi glances at you then, visibly proud when he catches the wide grin on your face.

Seokjin gasps, offended. “I am not old! I’m literally a year older than you guys! And here I was, about to get you both drinks as well! It sucks to be the nice one in a friend group,” he sniffs.

“Yes, we are eternally grateful for your service,” Hoseok says sarcastically. “Oh, and remember to get some drinks for Y/N and Yoongi-chi too!” Hoseok adds, slamming his palm on Seokjin’s sore back.

Seokjin yelps, before biting his lip. “Owwie, that hurt,” he moans, winking salaciously.

As the closest person to him, you make it your right to jam your heeled foot onto his gelatinous and push away with a shout of disgust. “Leave, wench!” you snarl, but you’re unfortunately drowned out by his cackling. Even so, he does make his leave, affording your table some level of peace.

“So,” Hoseok starts, a twinkle of mischief in his eye. He cradles his chin with his hands, smiling innocuously at the two of you. “How’s it goin’? Are you both having fun?” he says, laced with meaning.

Ah, you had forgotten; peace was never an option.

Though he is undoubtedly less annoying than Seokjin, you still don’t trust the way he’s staring at you, like he’s waiting for one of you to jump into the other’s lap and recreate his favorite porn scene.

(A terrible thought to have, especially when you’d probably be as begrudging as you should be if you were swayed sufficiently.)

“It’s going fine, thank you very much,” Yoongi responds, giving his best friend a stern look.

You nod wordlessly, unable to trust yourself to keep from stammering and making your frayed nerves apparent (if they aren’t already.) You grab your glass and busy yourself with your drink to delay answering.

You don’t notice that you had taken Yoongi’s cup by accident until you’ve already gulped a third of his water, dropping it with a loud clunk. “Oh shit, sorry! I didn’t mean to drink from yours,” you say sheepishly.

Yoongi smiles at your concern. “No worries. It’s just a cup.”

“Sharing cups too? Damn, what happened while Seokjin and I were away?” Hoseok laughs. Yoongi flicks him lightly on the wrist in retaliation.

“It’s just a cup,” he repeats before turning to you. “Sorry, I think he’s a bit drunk.”

“Haven’t had a single drop of alcohol but whatever,” Hoseok says, shoveling a large piece of tuna belly into his mouth.

The sight of him eating reminds you of your own hunger, your food slightly colder now after talking to Yoongi and your friends for so long. You take a spoonful of chicken, the taste not terrible but not as good as you would like. Your face must give your disappointment away because you hear Yoongi chuckling beside you.

“Bad food again? Guess you really are the same,” Yoongi says, low enough that Hoseok wouldn’t hear. He pushes his plate towards you, carefully nudging some of his bulgogi onto yours. “This tastes kind of sweet, so I’m not really into it. But you prefer it sweeter right?”

All you can do is nod in agreement, watching as he piles your plate with his food. His sleeves, which had already been stained previously by some stray bits of kimchi, become even more saturated with sauces and oils. Now that you see it up close, his sleeves seem a bit too long for him, his palms half covered like sweater paws.  

Without thinking too hard, you place your hands over Yoongi’s wrists, his entire body freezing as he waits for what you will do. Gently, as though you’re approaching a frightened kitten, you fold his sleeves until they’re no longer dangling into his food. The gesture is more intimate than you had intended, his proximity allowing you to smell the familiar fragrance of his cologne.

Paco Rabanne, your mind reminds you. Of course.

You pull away, trying your best to appear as unfazed as possible. You clench your hands and dig your nails into your skin to keep them from trembling. “If I’m the same, you’re no better. You always used to forget to pull back your sleeves before eating.”

After a beat, Yoongi returns from his stupor, licking his lips. “My hands were cold,” he explains.

“I know.” You lick your lips too, suddenly parched despite all the water you have drunk.

A forgotten treasure trove of memories resurrects inside of you, things that you had thought had been buried too deep for you to find again. You are filled with this odd feeling, an awareness. An old wound has resurfaced, one that you thought had healed long ago.

That wound throbs, still.

It’s so strange, being with him like this. A piece of your past that has come to your present, both the same and different as you remember. He knows parts of you that no one else will, as do you with him. But those parts were only ever supposed to stay buried: memories, after all, aren’t supposed to be tangible.

And yet, here he stands: real, alive, close.

It leaves you feeling emptier than before.

The atmosphere grows somber after that, neither of you offering much to the conversation. Hoseok is more than happy to pick up the slack, filling the stark silence along with the occasional hums from Yoongi. When Seokjin returns, he makes no note of the change in mood and focuses more on eating and talking with his partner. It allows the two of you to remain deep in thought.

You are pushing your remaining bits of food around your plate when the soft instrumental music playing on the overhead speaker stops abruptly, and the sound of a microphone being tapped prompts everyone to turn to the front of the ballroom. The host of the event announces that the next part of the reunion will begin shortly and encourages all the performers to head to the sound booth to prepare. A couple of your schoolmates rise from their seats, most of whom were the students you remembered being part of choir or band.

You half-expect Yoongi to stand up as well, but he stays rooted to the spot. Apparently, Hoseok is wondering the same thing.

“Yoongi? Didn’t you say that the organizers asked you to perform some of your songs?” Hoseok questions.

“They did.”

“But?”

Yoongi brings his fingers to his teeth, biting on them anxiously. Your hand makes a move to pull them away, but you think better of it. No need to supply your friends with more teasing ammunition. “But I changed my mind last minute. I felt kind of embarrassed to be performing my own songs. I’m more of a producer, not a performer.”

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Yoongi. You’re poggers, as the kids like to say,” Seokjin pipes up.

“I wouldn’t put it like that, but he’s right. A lot of people like your music and think you’re a great performer,” you assure him. “And I like your music, too,” you add shyly.

Yoongi’s hand drops from his mouth, eyes glittering with disbelief. He looks like he wants to disagree with you, but eventually decides to just smile in gratitude. “I didn’t know you listened to my music,” he says quietly.

Before you can reply, Seokjin chooses to interrupt with his migraine-inducing cackle and ruin the moment (as he is prone to do.) “Oh bitch! If you only knew how much this girl loves your music. She even buys your physical CDs AND collects your photocards.”

“I do not!” You scream, flinging a piece of bread at his head. You refuse to peek at Yoongi.

“Don’t worry, Y/N! I collect his photocards too. Wanna trade sometime? I’m missing the one when he still had mint hair,” Hoseok giggles.

“Will the two of you stop? God, it’s like you both had been planning to embarrass us as much as possible,” Yoongi exclaims, incensed.

When neither of them responds, you and Yoongi whip your heads towards them only to find two self-satisfied, smirking shitheads.

“Why watch reality shows when you can make your own?” Seokjin says in lieu of an answer, pointing finger guns. He blows you a kiss with a wink.

You clutch your chest, pretending to wince in pain. “Augh! Poison damage!”

Seokjin scoffs. “Swagever, man. You’re just mad because you’re angry,” he retorts, sticking out his tongue.

While you were occupied bickering with Seokjin, you had not seen that one of your old schoolmates had invited herself to your table. She sandwiches herself in the space between you and Yoongi, bumping you roughly enough to topple you out of your chair.

“What the fuck?” you yelp in surprise, holding onto the table to balance yourself. After straightening back into your seat, you find that your view of the world has become obscured by asscheeks the size of beachballs.

“Hi Yoongi,” she purrs seductively. Or at least, what she thinks is seductive. To you, her voice sounds like nails grating on a chalkboard.

“Hello?” Yoongi says, but it comes out sounding more like a question. It’s clear that he doesn’t remember her name, as he searches your eyes for help. You shrug unhelpfully; you deleted almost all the names of everyone that you had gone to school with right after graduation. Besides, her horrendous plastic surgery makes it even twice as hard to discern her identity.

“Hi Hyejin,” Hoseok speaks up, answering your unspoken question. Oh, right. The name does ring a bell, somewhat. You don’t recall her looking like a cartoon character before, but you suppose beauty standards are meant to be subjective. Maybe she wanted to look like a One Piece character.

Hyejin purses her lips into a tight smile but doesn’t return his greeting. She turns back to Yoongi, bending forward until her boobs are practically smooshed against his face. You wonder idly if stabbing her chest with your chopsticks would cause them to burst like a balloon, or perhaps drain like a puss-filled pimple. Both, you surmise, would be very entertaining to watch.

“It’s been a while since we’ve last seen each other, hm? I heard you’ve been very busy ever since we graduated from high school,” she says, batting her eyelashes.

“Uh, yeah? Some of us have jobs,” he says, passively dissing her. You let out a strangled laugh, causing Hyejin to aim a glare back at you. You bring your (his) cup of water to your lips, feigning innocence.

Hyejin rolls her eyes. “Right. But I meant that you’ve become a real star back in Seoul! I didn’t know you were such a musical prodigy!”

“I’m really not. I just work hard,” he shrugs. He’s visibly uncomfortable, especially since Hyejin was pretty much breathing the same air as him. Every time he leans away from her, she takes it as an invitation to come closer. He is nearly lying horizontally at this point, his back parallel with the floor.

“Humble as well as handsome? My, my. I didn’t think you’d be such a charmer,” she laughs, saccharine sweet. She twirls her dyed brown hair with her perfectly manicured acrylic nails. You rub at the goosebumps forming on your arms, cringing at the phantom sensation of her nails digging into your skin.

“Just spit it out. What the hell do you want so you can leave,” Seokjin interjects. Everything about his demeanor says calm and collected, but the way he presses his lips into a thin line says otherwise. You can sense the air dropping in temperature, despite the embers burning behind his eyes.

“I came over here to ask if Yoongi could give me his autograph, that’s all. I am his biggest fan, after all,” she sulks. She winks at him for extra measure. “And maybe his number too? I’d love to discuss your music with you sometime!”

“Oh, um. That’s—” he cuts off, hesitant to answer. He tugs at his ears nervously, exchanging subtly alarmed glances with you.

You remember that signal very distinctly; it’s a distress call that he would do whenever he needed a way out. He used to do it a lot when you were at social gatherings, especially when people would trap him in boring or awkward conversations. He never did like socializing with people outside his circle, but he was often dragged to parties by his more extroverted friends.

He might be hot as hell with his stylish clothes and jaw-dropping undercut, but he’s still awkward as hell around strangers. When the universe created him, they made sure to keep everything in balance. If they hadn’t been fair, you certainly would’ve died much earlier.

“Yoongi, don’t you have spare CDs of your music?” you quip, dragging Hyejin’s attention onto you. Her eyes narrow imperceptibly, suspicious.

“I do?” He stares at you blankly.

You resist hitting your forehead in exasperation. “Yes, Yoongi. Remember? You left a couple of them in my car.”

Yoongi’s eyes light up in understanding. “Oh, right! I left my CDs. In your car. That we drove here. Together. We came here. Together. Yes, correct.”

From your periphery, you can sense Hoseok barely holding onto his sanity after witnessing that pitiful display. Who can blame him when Yoongi’s infamously terrible acting skills are having their first appearance in over ten years? How he managed to pass Drama class is still a mystery to this day.

“Yup,” you say, popping your p.  You give Hyejin a winsome smile, your hands folded neatly on your lap. You can almost see the steam blowing out of her ears. It fills you with delicious satisfaction. “Why don’t Yoongi and I go get them so he can sign one?”

If her eyes had been made of lasers, you’d be a cauterized mess jumble of organs by now. Can’t say you would regret it either way.

“How kind of you.” She sneers. “Also, I wasn’t aware that you two were still a thing.”

“I wasn’t aware that we were required to inform you of anything,” you retort placidly. You plaster on your fakest grin. “Now, if you can please move your fat ass—I mean, if you can please move out of the way so I can go to my car...” you trail off, gesturing for her to leave.

After a few more indignant sputters on her end, she eventually makes her exit. She throws a couple of poisonous glares, but they go largely ignored by you and your friends. With her gone, you feel as though you can finally breathe fresh air again.

“Great stuff, Y/N! Congrats on winning your first bitch-off,” Seokjin chirps, back to his usual self. You roll your eyes at his antics but smile nonetheless.

“Thanks. I learned from the best.”

Yoongi clears his throat. “So, are we still gonna go?” He looks back and forth from her to you. “Just so we can pretend you actually have my albums in your car?”

“Trust me, Yoongi-chi. She does have your albums in her car.” Seokjin titters. “I wasn’t kidding about the photocard collection.”

“Ignore him. And yes, I do have your albums. I listen to them in my car from time to time,” you say, attempting nonchalance. “I’d hate to give them away to that bitch, but if it keeps her away...”

Away from you is left unsaid, but it’s heavily implied.

(No, you aren’t jealous. You’re above jealousy. It’s not like that bitch would ever have a chance with him anyway, unlike you—!

Woah there, cowgirl. Let’s stay on the right path. Don’t want your heart getting chewed up and spat back out all over again, do you?)

“I’ll just mail you a new one. Signed, if you want. You can probably sell it on eBay or whatever.” He tries to say it like a joke, but his brow is too furrowed to be convincing. (You want to kiss him there and make it go away.)

You don’t trust yourself to speak, so all you do is nod mutely. You stand up and Yoongi follows suit.

“We’ll be right back. If she comes back before then, tell her to scram,” you tell Hoseok and Seokjin. They salute you in response (well, Hoseok does. Seokjin does a very rude gesture with his fingers that is supposed to mimic something explicit. Feel free to use your imagination.)

The walk to the parking lot is a quiet one. The two of you stay side by side, his strides naturally matching your own. Unlike before, you don’t feel the need to fill the silence for once, content to just be in each other’s presence.

The hotel that your reunion is being held at is unusually unpopulated. The lobby consists of a handful of employees milling about, a few of whom look ready to fall asleep on their feet. You nod politely at the bellboy who opens the main doors for you, declining his offer to call the valet service to fetch your car.

“Just hand me my keys. I’ll look for my car in the parking lot.” It wouldn’t be hard to find, anyway. Your beat-up Toyota Corolla looks as though it’s been through three wars and then some.

It isn’t long until you find it parked close to the entrance. You unlock your car from the passenger seat, shimmying the glove compartment open to reveal your collection of CDs.

“Wow, you weren’t lying when you said you listened to my music,” Yoongi says, voice loud amidst the tranquil night. It startles you, and you accidentally knock over some of the albums onto your car floor. On top of the pile lies Yoongi’s most recent album, the one you recall he had released a couple of months ago.

Strange, how just hours ago you were listening to his music on the way to the reunion, only for the boy on the cover of the album to be just inches away from you.

“Yeah, well. You’re a pretty good artist,” you say.

“Only pretty good?” he repeats, amused.

“Don’t push it,” you snort. You grab the album on top, waving it in front of him. “This should be good enough, right?”

He plucks it from your grasp, an unreadable expression clouding his eyes. He chuckles, but there’s an edge of sadness in his tone. “Good enough,” he agrees solemnly.

His sudden quietness is different from the peaceful one before. It’s sorrowful, maybe regretful. He looks like a man stuck in grief.

“Did you know that I didn’t finish this album before releasing it?”

The question seems a little out of the blue, but you answer regardless. “No, I didn’t. They don’t sound unfinished to me.”

“The songs themselves aren’t unfinished,” he explains. He turns the album over, his finger running down the back where the tracklist is printed. “One of my songs never made it in.”

“Couldn’t you have delayed the album launch so you could complete it?”

He shakes his head. “It was actually the first song I finished out of all of them.”

“Then..?”

“It didn’t matter, at the time. I wrote it for someone specifically, but I didn’t want to put it on the album if she—they didn’t listen to it. It wouldn’t matter if the whole world heard that song because only they would understand it.”

“But now? What changed?” Fear and hope run down your spine in tandem when the question tumbles out of you. You hold your breath, and the world shifts from its axis.

But he doesn’t elaborate further.

x x x x x

You return to the hotel after acquiring both an album and some more tension. The album feels heavy in your hands, weighed down by secrets you are still too afraid to uncover. Not that Yoongi would ever willingly divulge them to you—because revealing them would make them real, and making them real would mean you would have to accept them, and accepting them would cause you to—

“They’re gone,” Yoongi announces when you reenter the ballroom. You can’t spot your table from the entranceway, but the certainty in Yoongi’s tone makes you believe him.

“No fucking way. Did those two little shits ditch us to exchange body fluids or something?”

Yoongi grimaces. “Please don’t say it like that. It’s bad enough that I was sitting close enough to Hoseok a while ago that I got accidentally footsie’d by Seokjin hyung.”

You wince, placing a pitying hand on his shoulder. “God didn’t make us his strongest soldiers.”

Yoongi tries dialing Hoseok a few times, but none of the calls connect. “Just my rotten luck,” he groans. He types angrily into his phone, worry creasing his forehead. “He was supposed to be my ride back to his place.”

“Seokjin isn’t answering his phone either,” you say apologetically. “How much do you wanna bet this is part of their evil scheme to leave us together?”

“I don’t doubt it in the slightest,” he deadpans. He sighs tiredly, rubbing his temples. “I suppose I can take a taxi there, but I also don’t know if he’ll be home to open the door for me.”

“Then why don’t you just stay with me?”

You don’t know what you’re doing.

In your head, the offer makes sense. He’s just a friend, you remind yourself. Nothing is stopping you from rekindling a friendship with him. You have purely platonic intentions. Friends help each other out.

Never mind the fact that your heart hasn’t stopped fluttering the entire night. Never mind the fact that you’ve caught yourself staring at him just as many times as you’ve caught him staring at you. Never mind the fact that you don’t want the night to end, not now not ever.

(Never mind the fact that you’ve never quite stopped loving him.)

So when he accepts, you convince yourself that offering had been the right thing to do.

(Maybe. Hopefully. You just wish your heart doesn’t end up as collateral damage.)

The drive home is short, thanks to the late hour. You had asked him if he had wanted to stay until the end of the reunion, but he had declined. “Nothing else left for me there,” he says.

You feel as though he’s hinting at something. Your grip on the steering wheel tightens. “At least I get to keep my album.”

Yoongi laughs, short and sweet.

As much as you try to fight it, sitting in the car with him brings up a lot of memories.

The two of you in the backseat as his older brother drives you to his house for dinner, backpacks filled with crumpled notes and loose pens, a promise of an intense study session for your upcoming exams ready to be broken. You remember how the sky would turn orange in the afternoon, the warm light streaming through the car window and washing Yoongi’s skin with a soft glow.

His cheeks had looked inviting, his lips even more. And you would lean over, kissing him like it was easy. Because it was easy, and you never had to think twice about it.

Your trip down memory lane doesn’t end in the car. As you walk up the steps to your childhood home, you hesitate by the door, your keys frozen over the lock. You can hear Yoongi’s soft breathing behind you, but his presence doesn’t feel as stifling as you thought it would be.

You’re far from being at ease, but you aren’t frightened either. Mostly, you’re just filled with anticipation. Of what? You aren’t sure.

“Excuse the mess. Jungkook is in the middle of moving out so there’s just stuff everywhere,” you say just as you open the door. You toe off your shoes by the entrance, kicking them off haphazardly into the pile of sneakers and boots.

You hear Yoongi huff out a laugh behind you. “Aish, that kid. Still hasn’t let go of his Timbs, huh?”

“He has also been really into chunky sneakers these days. I think he’s finalizing his transformation into Thumper,” you joke. “He’s staying at his new apartment for the weekend with my parents, so you won’t be seeing them. They’re helping him settle in.”

“Really? He didn’t mention moving when we spoke. Where is he moving to?”

“Busan. He and his best friend from college are going to start a restaurant in his hometown. Which is funny, since neither of them are the best chefs.”

Yoongi whistles. “Still, that’s impressive. I can’t remove the image from my head of when he was a kid. He was so scared of anything. He wouldn’t let go of your mom’s leg even if his life depended on it.”

He steps deeper into the house, his gaze jumping from end to end as he surveys your childhood home. You watch him, noting how right he looks standing there in the middle of your living room, like a chipped painting that has been restored.

It’s scary, how easily you’ve accepted him back into this place.

He stays rooted to the spot, the moonlight filtering through the kitchen windows and illuminating his frame. The air pulses with something magical, something dream-like, and it muddles your vision. It’s the only explanation you have for why your chest tightens when he turns to face you, with a gaze filled with sadness, mourning, yearning.

“Jungkook’s height chart is still here,” he murmurs. The small nicks on the kitchen door frame are hard to see, and other people have mistaken them for signs of wear and tear. But he knows what they are because he was there when your mother had etched the first scratch.

He looks at your ancient dining table, his hand brushing over the surface. “This too,” he says, rubbing at a large burn mark on the wood.

“Mom made sure to use placemats after that. I didn’t think a sizzling plate would burn through the table like that,” you say, giggling as you reminisce. “You know, we still use your mom’s galbi jjim recipe. We haven’t found a better one.”

“I’m sure she would love to hear that,” Yoongi smiles, but it fades just as quickly. “It’s so… strange. Being here again and seeing that nothing really changed.”

But things did change. Upstairs, in your bedroom. That night, ten years ago.

You still remember what you had said to him, when you had said it to him, how you had said it to him.

It was a sunny afternoon, the time of day when you’d be on your way home from school. The two of you had stood in your room, neither of you wanting to sit because sitting meant staying, and staying only made this harder.

There hadn’t been many tears in that moment; those were shed only after the realization had sunk in, when you’d fully understood what had happened. At the time, the decision had been as easy as breathing.

Except you had both been drowning. The clock was ticking down to the end of high school, and the inevitable wasn’t slowing down.

Yoongi wanted to chase his dreams in Seoul. You wanted to stay closer to home, with your friends and family.

You weren’t going to be the one to hold him down. You weren’t going to be that person, not when he’s destined for greater things than his hometown could offer—not even a girl who loved him would be worth staying for.

He had suggested it, first. He had been prepared for you to cry, or maybe scream, but you did none of that. Instead, you pulled him close, hugging him tighter than you ever had before. You wanted to make it last, imprint the sensation onto your brain so that his warmth might stay with you, even after he’s little more than a distant memory. You trembled, terribly so, even though the beginnings of summer crept on your skin like a brand.

It’s time to let him go, Time whispered. You refused to listen, just for another moment.

Let me have this last moment, you beg. But Time refused to listen.

“Do you know?” Yoongi had spoken into your neck, had hoped his words would stain there. “Do you know how much I love you?”

Love, not loved. “I did,” you say. You think better of it. “I do.”

When you separated, for good this time, it had left an ache deeper than you could have ever imagined.

But you were young. Young love was supposed to hurt, but it wasn’t supposed to last. “You’ll find others,” your mother had said, brushing a soothing hand through your hair as you sobbed.

Then why? Then why has it lasted this long?

It has been a question you’ve asked yourself, and you’re starting to think that the answer has always been right in front of you.

The answer is standing in front of you: real, alive, close.

“Why didn’t you ever date again?” you ask. You ask even though you know he can lie, if he wants. He can tell you anything and you would believe him.

But he wouldn’t; you know he wouldn’t.

“I was afraid of closing a door that I never meant to close in the first place,” he says. His voice crackles like static, but that might be the blood rushing to your head. He moves toward you but keeps a hand’s width away. Still too far.

He continues. “After that day, when I left,” he swallows, “after I left, I think… I think I left a piece of me with you. A-and I don’t think I ever stopped…” he cuts off, exhaling shakily.

“Stopped what?” you breathe.

“You know.” He waves his hands around helplessly. They fall heavily back down to his sides, defeated. “You know?” he repeats.

You do. Because you are the same. The old wound had never healed; it burns and it bleeds like new.

Your skull feels like it’s stuffed with cotton when you close the distance between the two of you. He circles his arms around your waist, tentative, but he relaxes when you wind your arms around his neck. Your vision is warped, so you choose to close them. You wait, with bated breath, as his warmth inched closer and closer.

The sensation of his lips on yours jolts you back to your senses. His kiss reminds you of your youth, of a love that had made you excited to start your day. Even now, your body remembers, and it rejoices.

The tenderness does not last long before it turns fervent, tongue and teeth crashing like waves against the shore. If his kisses could speak, they would tell you stories of how much he missed you, of how much he mourned the time you had both lost. They would tell you of the days when he’d almost pressed your number onto his phone, of the nights when he’d stare at the polaroids he had kept of you.

They would ask if you still love him like he still loves you.

He tastes of desperation, and you are likely to be the same. It is a desperation you haven’t tasted in years—but it doesn’t feel scary like it used to. Time no longer feels like it’s racing against you, like you had something to prove before the hour was over. This reckless abandon feels like home against your skin—it is an ache being soothed after having ripped your scabs over and over again.

It’s Yoongi.

And when he pulls you to your room, he doesn’t even need his eyes to find his way as his feet still memorize the floorboards. He struggles with the doorknob, forgetting that it always jammed, but it’s okay because you can always teach him again. You can teach him everything again.

The bed creaks under your weights and even the mattress sounds like it is sighing in relief. That sigh echoes from your lips when his hand slips under your clothes, his palm stopping over your heart.

“I won’t break it, this time,” he says. He promises. “If you let me.”

You wonder if he can feel your heart soaring, pounding against your ribs. “I think the line has long been crossed to ask for my permission.” You place your hand over where his is laid. You squeeze tight.

This time, you don’t let him go.